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dufferpuffer · 3 months ago

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~~ Looking at Lycanthropy ~~

Part 5: Wolfsbane vs Wolf - Theories of Treatments

Looking at Lycanthropy (all parts)

Words: Approx. 4000

Potion Information Other Treatments

PRISONER OF AZKABAN

Chapter 8

pg 117 The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. … … 'Fascinating,' said Snape, without looking at it. 'You should drink that directly, Lupin.'

- Wolfsbane is taken a goblet-full a day. - It should be taken directly, in one sitting. - It smokes faintly.

pg 118 'I made an entire cauldronful,' Snape continued. 'If you need more.' 'I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.'

- Wolfsbane is made by the cauldronful. Since he is letting him know there is more – is this the first potion of the week...? - The same cauldronful can be kept for more than one days use.

'I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.' He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. 'Pity sugar makes it useless,' he added, taking a sip and shuddering. … … 'I've been feeling a bit off-colour,' he said. 'This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it.'- Wolfsbane is a complex potion. Not many wizards are up to making it.

- Sugar makes it useless. - It tastes awful. Love that either it has a flavor that might be palatable with some sugar – or Remus just wants to drown it in sweetness because he's that sort of guy.

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.'Disgusting,' he said. 'Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you at the feast later.' … … The empty goblet was still smoking.

- Even empty – or with just drops left – it still smokes. Very smokey brew. Big vapours from this icky boy. Is it 'smoke', actually? Could very well just be a word to describe how it looks, when it is something entirely different. Harry should know the difference being a third year Potions student, but it could just be slang. - Gross enough to pull faces, even after taking it repeatedly. - Remus and Harry were having a chat – and as soon as the potion is done, he sends him away for the rest of the day... is it possible that it'll have side effects? Make him feel ill? Or does he want to catch up on all the 'disorganised', 'late' work Snape says exists? Chapter 11

pg 170 'I doubt,' said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, 'that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?' 'Yes, Headmaster,' said Snape. 'Good,' said Dumbledore. 'Then he should be up and about in no time ... Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent.' The first year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

- Wolfsbane improves recovery time post-Full Moon. (Love that's the reaction regular students have to being spoken to by Albus. They never see him outside of feasts, he doesn't go to Quidditch games, just paces his office. Same, dude – nice to the kids but avoid them 99% of the time lol)

Chapter 18

pg 258 'I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The Potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform... I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.''Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month.It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.'

- Wolfsbane was invented in the last 15 years – or even more recent. - It 'makes him safe': 'keeps his mind' when he transforms, 'harmless', curls up in his office... but still transforms, still waits for the moon to wane. Without he is a 'fully fledged monster'. - Needs to take the potion 'the week' preceding the Full Moon. As in every day for a week. - There were 'other things' his parents tried – none successful.

pg 259 'My transformations in those days were - were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits.'

Just reminding that this is the experience of untreated Lycanthropy.

'And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.'

I mentioned this before, but 'best times of his life'. He went from screaming so loud the village thought he was a pack of ghosts, biting and scratching himself, feeling 'terrible'... to them being his happiest memories.

pg 260 'They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,' said Lupin. 'A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. ... Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.'

We know some of that is bullshit. He is a danger to animals as well. But James, Sirius and Peter weren't animals, really: They were people. Just like Remus is a person. They could look and smell like Beasts, but act and think like Beings. Inbetween. Just like him. His mind was less wolfish – 'he keeps his mind under their influence', just like he describes the effects of Wolfsbane. Chapter 19

pg 263 'I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your Potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along.'

I went through this more in Part 3, what I think was happening to make Snape comfortable enough visit Lupins office after dark to serve him his potion but not bring it into the Shack. But for now I just wanna note that it wasn't too late to drink his potion as the sun set.

~~~ HALF BLOOD PRINCE

Chapter 29

pg 517 Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill’s pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy’s Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand. “Can’t you fix them with a charm or something?” he asked the matron. “No charm will work on these,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I’ve tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.”… … “No, I don’t think that Bill will be a true werewolf,” said Lupin, “but that does not mean that there won’t be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and — and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on.”

- Fresh bites are treated – dabbed at – with some sort of 'harsh-smelling green ointment'. - No charms work on werewolf bites. - Werewolf bites are 'cursed wounds'. - Werewolf bites are unlikely to ever heal fully.

pg 524 Mrs. Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey and began dabbing at Bill’s wounds.

- Ointment is nasty-smelling as well as harsh.

~~~ DEATHLY HALLOWS

Chapter 4

pg 66 “Will George be okay?” All Lupin’s frustration with Harry seemed to drain away at the question. “I think so, although there’s no chance of replacing his ear, not when it’s been cursed off –”

A different curse, yes – but another example of a cursed wound being difficult to heal.

pg 68 Mrs. Weasley looked around and said, “I can’t make it grow back, not when it’s been removed by Dark Magic. But it could have been so much worse He’s alive.”

Dark Magic seems to have the effect of making things difficult to heal.

~~~ Wolfsbane

Wolfsbane is a complex potion to brew. Not many are up to the task. It is disgusting, drinkable but difficult to get used to. It might make one feel unwell after consumption. It is a modern potion – invented in the last 15 years or so. Brewed by the cauldronful for more than one day's use. It is taken, one gobletful a day, for the whole week preceding the Full Moon. It is to be had directly, in one sitting. It 'smokes' faintly – persisting even in tiny amounts. Sugar negates the effects.

When taken for the entire week before the Full Moon, it will help the Werewolf 'keep their mind' when he transforms: Not a 'fully fledged monster' but a 'harmless wolf' that can stay calm and wait for the moon to wane. Some of that may be a little hyperbolic. It also helps speed up recovery time after the transformation. (Perhaps because the werewolf is resting, rather than running around or lashing out.) … As it is: Wolfsbane is a barely functioning 'treatment'. I'd say it's almost not worth the effort. Remus goes through every painful, debilitating and humiliating symptom he normally does, takes days to recover – and it has its own down-sides to boot. He probably isn't even fully safe. It just makes him less of a danger to others, shortens recovery time to two days... and probably stops his self harming. But he is still locked away, shunned, hated, feared, humiliated... still in pain. After every Full Moon Remus still looks thinner and worse. The potion barely helps him physically. It's 'best effects' are making him calm enough to stay inside – and faster-recovering to work a job.

But it is a recent potion. Perhaps it can be improved...? + Just being easier to brew would be enough to greatly increase its usefulness: it might not be perfect, but being easy would give werewolves more agency in caring for their own condition. It'd also help if they got to go to school and study Potions – maybe a treatment or cure would have been found by now if Werewolves could learn to study themselves. + Having the dose be smaller than a gobletful for a whole week. Going through such discomfort for a treatment is crushing in its own way and makes it less likely to be taken correctly. + Ideally, being able to prevent the transformation altogether would be amazing, even if they still felt like shit. The transformation is painful and literally dehumanizing. + If it's impossible to prevent, than keeping total sobriety is good, too. A lack of bloodlust even amongst humans. Remus could catch up on reading essays and be safe – like an Animagus. Edit: This might be what Wolfsbane actually does. I don't read it like that - but that could be my bias. From what I think: I'd like it to do it better. Not feeling like he has to curl up and wait 'as a 'harmless' wolf', but be a full human mind in his wolf body - no wolfish instinct and no sedation. Regular Remus sipping tea.

'Other Things'

We are given no information on the things Remus' parents tried... but the fact 'none of them worked' is pretty harrowing. It suggests a wide array of rumours and snake-oil treatments, meaning its a condition people are especially desperate for help with – and that desperation is abused. There's the funny or scary way of imagining this, where his parents are getting him to do weird things in the vague hope of a cure – but... all in all, it's very sad. Damaging.

The constant false hope that 'maybe this one will work'. Putting money into something for it to be a dud, meticulously following a formula and yet he still transforms just as painfully.

That sort of thing hits parents hard. They're desperately trying to at least ease the suffering of their sick child and are powerless. But it hits the child harder. Because they suffer... and are watching their parents struggle to stay positive. They feel like THEY are failing them by being sick. Ask me how I know. This one little line from Remus... says a lot.

'Harsh-smelling Ointment'

Werewolf bites are 'cursed wounds' – Lycanthropy is, at least partially, a type of curse. It prevents the wound from healing fully. No charms are known to work on werewolf bites, or perhaps on any cursed wounds. Dark Magic seems to have the effect of making wounds difficult to heal. (a cursed-off ear can't be reattached or regrown.) There is a treatment for fresh werewolf bites at least: 'A harsh, nasty smelling green ointment dabbed frequently and directly on the wound.' The only effect we see it have is its non-effect: as in its hardly closing up the wound with magic. It's not described as doing anything. It works slowly, which is rare for magical remedies. Perhaps it stops bleeding? Encourages healing? Removes cursed interference of natural processes?

We are told there's no charm known to work – but we do see Severus using a charm to heal Draco after Harry's Sectumsempra. Is that a different case? Is his spell a different type of curse? Has Severus invented a healing charm that will work on Dark Magic? I wouldn't put it past him – the fucker can fly. It's unknown. I will say that, knowing Severus, if he had invented a healing charm that could work on all Dark Magic wounds, he would probably have shared it. He enjoys when people don't die – and the Dark Lord and his followers use Dark Magic. But I still wonder, if he were there, if there was anything he could do for Bill. Albus, too. Tragic.

~~~ GREYBACK VS. LUPIN

(Not to the death. But Greyback would absolutely win btw. Lupin would get caught up in his feelings, flub a spell and rattle about like the bag of bones he is while Greyback gnaws on him.)

So its pretty clear that there's some massive differences between werewolves – not just between genetics, but the way their Lycanthropy affects them... and nobody bats an eye. It's normal. Fenrir Greyback has whiskers. Sharp teeth. Hair on his face. Strong, hardy, fast, heavy – comfortable and powerful on all fours. He wasn't always this way: about 30 years ago his Lycanthropy was unknown. Most werewolves seem to be unknown-looking – they hide amongst society, if they don't leave it entirely. Remus Lupin is unknown-looking, too. He looks like a regular Wizard... a sick one. Thin – and thinner after every Full Moon. Pallid. Shadowed eyes. Ill. He can barely fight a dog, even transformed – and looks like 'one good hex could finish him off'. What is with this difference...? Remus has been a werewolf for about 30 years... that's 360+ Full Moons. Fenrir has been a werewolf at LEAST that long, but probably longer. Potentially decades longer.

Would Remus, at 360 Full Moons, be facing an inevitable future of 'becoming obvious'? He desperately wants to hide his 'shame' – but will he get hair and whiskers on his face, too? It feels a bit arbitrary: How many Full Moons do you have to be a werewolf to simply have whiskers? Somewhere over 360...?

I suppose it could be an age thing: when you become an older person your body stops being able to fully shift between two forms. An ageing werewolf doesn't just get wrinkles - they get fur and fangs. I think the more likely answer, even if age still plays a part (I am rather attached to Remus' grey hair being a sign worsened by stress) is 'engagement'.

Remus is thin, sickly, suffering... desperate to restrain that whole part of himself – his illness – and pretend it doesn't exist. Every Full Moon he gets thinner. Fenrir is strong, heavy, thriving in his older age – so accepting of his illness he indulges in the pleasures of it even outside of the Full Moon. He stays strong, perhaps gets stronger.

If Remus were to be more accepting of his illness, if he were to let himself feed on Full Moons and indulge in blood etc. even as a human... if he kept his 'wolf' fed: He would be stronger. Healthier. But he is too self-loathing for that. He can't even handle his patronus being a wolf, let alone not hating his wolfish tendencies.

If Fenrir were forced on Wolfsbane potion, unable to hunt as a wolf or as a man – he would be hit by the Full Moon's harder. He'd be more ill, like Remus is. His 'wolf' is used to being 'overfed'.

Bill, though not a werewolf, indulges in his new taste for blood and accepts his new contamination, his new wounds, without self loathing. I'd say that's probably good for him. Like Fenrir.

~~~ MY THEORY ON: HOW BEST TO TREAT LYCANTHROPY B^)

Remus says some of his happiest memories are when he could run free on Full Moons with his friends. When he was accepted as what he was, protected, cared for. He stopped hurting himself. That is exactly the life Fenrir lives every day – and tries to make for other werewolves. He leads and cares for his fellows, he encourages Werewolves not to interact with people who would think ill of them and prioritise their own needs first. To relish in the blood they deserve.

Remus is sickly, weak and suffers because he starves his wolf. Fenrir is strong because he feeds it. I bet Remus being the only one not feeding his wolfish instincts in a werewolf commune would make him harder to trust. The only one without any fur on his face, who doesn't grow his nails out, who needs to force himself to partake in fresh hunts – and avoids violence. Hating himself is the biggest mark of 'having lived among Wizarding society'. We see a reflection of this in the Wolfsbane potion: It's difficult to make. It's arduous to stomach. It might even make you feel sick, in the short term... and for what? So you still go through a painful transformation – but are at least sober enough to miserably curl up, alone, sedated? A 'cure' my ass. It's a horrible treatment. Sedating ones wolf is painful, arduous and unhealthy. The Wolfsbane potion isn't made for Werewolves – it's made for healthy Wizards to control Werewolves with.

He would hate and be bitter, about having to spy on 'his equals' like Dumbledore wants – because it means engaging with 'his wolf' to fit in... which he finds conflicting and unsettling. Because he has had a taste of that better treatment.

“I’ve been living among my fellows, my equals,” said Lupin. “Werewolves,” he added, at Harry’s look of incomprehension. “Nearly all of them are on Voldemort’s side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was... ready-made.” He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on, “I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat.”

HBP, ch16

I believe living – and god forbid, spending Full Moons – with these Werewolves, who shun society in order to love their wolfish selves, would cause physical changes in Remus. Eventually. Starting off with growing out his nails and learning the mannerisms to fit in... but the more Full Moons spent running with a pack of human-minded animals, free and wild and indulging in joy rather than screaming in lonely pain... I think it would change him: Into a healthier man.

That's what being with Animagi mimicked. Humans are too much for his instincts to resist, and animals probably act and run in ways that are fun to chase or whatever – but a Stag with the mind of a Man does neither.

'And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.' … … 'Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.'

POA, ch 18

The marauders plan wasn't a perfect solution. They were sneaking around, having close-calls – Remus might have more of his mind with his 'pack' but he is still a danger out in the open. What Greyback does isn't perfect, either. They starve, they struggle, they get filthy and stink and rot within dreams of changing the world through violence. Remus' 'solution' sucks. Hate himself, slash himself open all alone and try to grow accustomed to the emotional hell that is society...

...Because society thinks them dangerous. They sneak around to avoid being spotted, they make communes because they aren't welcome, Remus needs to hate himself to fit in... But accepting the Wolf actively makes it safer for everyone.

That is the BEST treatment. Not just in a 'everyone can hold hands and be happy friends' way – but in a physical safety-oriented way: The issue is inevitable – so make room for it rather than push it out.

- Supported werewolves keep sobriety. - Supported werewolves are healthier, stronger people who aren't - chronically fatigued, who can work hard enough to even please Voldemort's standards. - Werewolves are easy enough to keep 'on a leash' – with simple enclosures and the help of Animagi.

There will always be werewolves. Perhaps a total cure could be found one day, or a better Wolfsbane constructed – but in the mean time there is a better way to keep the population safe... and its infrastructure and support.

Dumbledore was on the right track with treating Remus like a person. Sticking his own neck out to create things to support him – things that meant the world to him, that made him feel loved and accepted as a worthwhile person in Albus' life. Finding the balance of keeping others safe but not shunning Remus for being sick. I'm sure he would have loved the information that Remus felt so good amongst Animagi. Instantly gotten Minerva to help ease his Full Moons.

Am I saying every werewolf needs support Animagi? Yes, basically.

Facilities to keep others safe on the Full Moon – but the ability to have packs and socialisation that isn't shameful. A monthly animal bookclub with unique employment opportunities for Animagi. An occasional night-shift for healers or aurors, maybe part of their training. “We need more people to supervise and feed the London Werewolf Facility this Full Moon. You'll be paid overtime.”

- Werewolves are better registered – being taken care of is better than trying to hide. - Their whereabouts every Full Moon are known and accounted for. Safer for everyone. - They suffer less during their transformation, have a clearer mind, easier to control. - Less sickly werewolves like Remus – strong, healthy, can work and enjoy life better. - Less anti-Wizard werewolves planning to overthrow society via a bloodbath. - More job opportunities, for all you capitalist economists out there B^) - More research opportunities for the development of treatments and/or cures.

It is a win for quite literally everyone – for a small upfront cost of Ministry spending. But I am sure having more healthy Witches and Wizards in their small, secretive community would make up for it... rather than throwing people in the bin if they get sick.

Albus would have wanted to get involved, as he has an example of this very thing working: A small cost of providing a safe place to transform, some potion and a couple of days off a month... and Hogwarts had not only a dedicated student and Prefect – but a productive teacher that left such a mark on his students hearts that they still think of him as the best teacher they have ever had.

#hp #hp meta #remus lupin #fenrir greyback #lycanthropy

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psalacanthea · 10 months ago

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WiP Wednesday

Since Durge and Gortash won the Friday poll, I'll pull something out of the other BG3 fic for WiP day. My pace with the new chapter is a little slow, between taking a week off and now dealing with Pain, but hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to focus enough to make some real progress.

From the Astarion x Tav longfic, a little bit of WiP for your amusement. (if you would like to be tagged to do your own in the future, pls let me know)

...

“Well, if you used that sensible mind you keep claiming to have, you’d know that obviously I’m her patron,” Astarion sneered at Shadowheart. His voice relaxed, going lazy and dismissive once more. “And muse, naturally.”

Zyn considered drawing a gigantic curly moustache on her sketch of him. It was rude to interrupt. “My peerage or lack thereof has not yet been shared– please avoid making assumptions about me.” No, this wasn’t right. He looked too…neat and tidy. She grimaced at her sketch, and then glanced back up at her subject. “Could I see a little more collarbone on the left side?”

“I’m not giving it away,” Astarion scoffed.

“Darling it’s for aesthetics, not expression of base lechery,” she begged. “Your neckline is too symmetrical, it doesn’t give me ‘careless dandy’.”

Astarion scowled at her, lifting her stolen goblet as he demanded, “regal! Make me look regal!”

How dare he not trust her artistic acumen.

“Even if your life depended on you appearing ‘regal’, I doubt I could oblige,” she snapped. "You egregious twink."

Shadowheart laughed faintly.

Astarion gasped, lifting a hand to his chest. His not nearly bared-enough chest. “How dare you! I am your patron! I could have you thrown out on the street!”

“Oh please, if there’s one thing upstart would-be nobles need, it’s portrait painters. There’ll be another dozen of you by teatime. You can dictate when you pay me, you contrary piss-puddle” Zyn added shading to his neck, pausing as she glanced up to find his eyes on her. He didn’t look angry, despite the insult. He was smiling. Ugh, that was the wrong expression entirely! “Tilt your chin to the side! Again. I told you to stop moving.”

Astarion sighed in annoyance and rolled his head to the left, hair swaying.

“I have no idea what’s going on, and yet I can’t look away,” Shadowheart said.

She settled down abruptly, pausing with one hand on the ground to snag one of Astarion’s pillows. He made an irritated noise, but didn’t bother retaliating. Zyn’s briefly riled mood flared up again. Why could she have a pillow, but Zyn hadn’t been allowed one?

Traitor!

Zyn glared at Astarion until he glanced away from the goblet of wine he was staring into contemplatively. Her nose wrinkled as their eyes met. The pasty reprobate sighed heavily, eyes rolling skyward.

"What now?"

“You’ll not be welcome in my bed any longer if I catch you giving someone preferential treatment over me,” she threatened him.

“You–" Astarion stared at her in shock, and then laughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. "Aha. Ha!" He dissolved into laughter as he sprawled back onto his pillows, ignoring her scowl.

Zyn slapped her stub of twine-wrapped pencil down on the paper, leaving a crumbled line as the tip snapped. "Stop it."

“Hah! I can’t believe you actually thought that would work!”

“I mean it, this is serious!” she whined as he started laughing over her again, throwing his head back. “You blaggard! That's it. It's moustache time.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wip wednesday #astarion x tav #astarion #tav: zynatheri rivati

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nascenta · 5 months ago

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The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A young Man in his mid twenties by the name of Prince Myshkin returns to Moscow after spending time in a Swiss Clinic for treatment. On his return to Moscow he finds himself a stranger in a society obsessed with wealth and become involved in a love triangle. The tale is primarily a love story and and a good old fashioned tale of good versus evil.

Here’s what the Dostoevsky said about the book: “There’s much in the novel...that didn’t come off, but something did come off. I don’t stand behind my novel, but I do stand behind my idea.”

°°°°°some quotes°°°°°

“I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.”

"He fell to thinking, among other things, about his epileptic condition, that there was a stage in it just before the fit itself (if the fit occurred while he was awake), when suddenly, amidst the sadness, the darkness of soul, the pressure, his brain would momentarily catch fire, as it were, and all his life's forces would be strained at once in an extraordinary impulse. The sense of life, of self-awareness, increased nearly tenfold in these moments, which flashed by like lightning. His mind, his heart were lit up with an extraordinary light; all his agitation, all his doubts, all his worries were as if placated at once, resolved in a sort of sublime tranquility, filled with serene, harmonious joy, and hope, filled with reason and ultimate cause."

"But I'll add though that there is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps, the most important of your ideas."

“Beauty will save the world.”

“Don’t let us forget that the causes of human actions are usually immeasurably more complex and varied than our subsequent explanations of them.”

“Do you know I don't know how one can walk by a tree and not be happy at the sight of it? How can one talk to a man and not be happy in loving him! Oh, it's only that I'm not able to express it...And what beautiful things there are at every step, that even the most hopeless man must feel to be beautiful! Look at a child! Look at God's sunrise! Look at the grass, how it grows! Look at the eyes that gaze at you and love you!”

“I want to talk about everything with at least one person as I talk about things with myself.”

“Sometimes you dream strange dreams, impossible and unnatural; you wake up and remember them clearly, and are surprised at a strange fact: you remember first of all that reason did not abandon you during the whole course of your dream; you even remember that you acted extremely cleverly and logically for that whole long, long time when you were surrounded by murderers, when they were being clever with you, concealed their intentions, treated you in a friendly way, though they already had their weapons ready and were only waiting for some sort of sign; you remember how cleverly you finally deceived them, hid from them; then you realize that they know your whole deception by heart and merely do not show you that they know where you are hiding; but you are clever and deceive them again—all that you remember clearly. But why at the same time could your reason be reconciled with such obvious absurdities and impossibilities, with which, among other things, your dream was filled? Before your eyes, one of your murderers turned into a woman, and from a woman into a clever, nasty little dwarf—and all that you allowed at once, as an accomplished fact, almost without the least perplexity, and precisely at the moment when, on the other hand, your reason was strained to the utmost, displaying extraordinary force, cleverness, keenness, logic? Why, also, on awakening from your dream and entering fully into reality, do you feel almost every time, and occasionally with an extraordinary force of impressions, that along with the dream you are leaving behind something you have failed to fathom? You smile at the absurdity of your dream and feel at the same time that the tissue of those absurdities contains some thought, but a thought that is real, something that belongs to your true life, something that exists and has always existed in your heart; it is as if your dream has told you something new, prophetic, awaited; your impression is strong, it is joyful or tormenting, but what it is and what has been told you—all that you can neither comprehend nor recall.”

#fyodor dostoevsky #the idiot #the idiot dostoevsky

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brooklynislandgirl · 10 months ago

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"Prescribed therapeutically, yes." Were regret a sea, she would be tossed about by its unruly waves simply for having to speak, and while others might strain to hear her, she imagines she must sound deafening. "A study published in Complimentary Therapies in Clinical Practice show a reduction in pain and improvement amongst fifty-two point seven patients who are routinely treated with pain-relieving medication. They also claim to sleep better, have less anxiety and depression than the control group. Stimulation of competing nerve fibres aids in regulating the neurochemical messages received and translated by the brain." Scientific data that she could quantifiably prove would me of more value to the Commander than simple word-of-mouth testimony. She does not feel it necessary to confide in him that in the years leading up to her posting that she had almost become a neurosurgeon in her own right, and that it was only in the last two years that the destiny laid out before her sharply altered and careened so very far from what had been planned. She's told no one and doesn't foresee it changing any time soon. He isn't the only person locked tighter than protocols written for the warp core. Were he to have asked her a personal opinion of the proposed treatment, she might have smiled gently and told him that there is no lie to be found in touch. That of all the senses, it perhaps contains the softest way to heal, to share, to express. But the Commander, she is starting to realise, is as notoriously doubtful as the rumours she's heard. But he is polite. Her lips thin and she nods, signalling that she understands. She could tell him that she is merely doing her duty, that it was a pleasure to have been able to assist him but such platitudes would be of no benefit. In the end simplicity wins out. "You're very welcome, Sir." It does not require the skills of a magician to read his face. The Commander would rather chew his own arm off than to be here longer than utterly necessary, regardless of her beside manner. This does not wound her as it might with anyone else, and she is reminded that her nickname, even as a child, had been makuahine li'ili'i ~little mother~ so she cannot take anything personally. What does trip over her feelings is her inability to detect exactly what cultivates his difficulties, or how to stop it from happening again. She might consider it a failure of her skill. But her face shows none of this as her eyes remain faintly downcast and the rest of her features become as bland and smooth as the colour-scheme of sickbay. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of her breath, her heartbeat steady as it thrums, she might not have even been a living thing. "As you please, Sir. If you should ever change your mind, you may request my presence here. Or if there is someone you trust and do not mind being touched by, I can act in a supervisory capacity. And unfortunately, you could do that, but doing so would be against medical advice. I'd like you to take a few moments…twenty or thirty minutes at the least, and then allow me to redo your scans. If they are clear and your levels are within acceptable parameters, then I'll send you back with all my blessings." The nature of compromise is for both parties entering the bargain being a little unhappy with the final result. She would prefer that he remain here for a few hours. Catch up on the sleep that has eluded him like a master thief. That he be relieved of duty until such a time that he might carry out his work without being a danger to himself, to others. Even suggesting so would impugne his personal honour. Her brother had been very much like that and she knows she doesn't stand a chance trying to out-logic someone of Vulcan descent. Especially when Dr McCoy has a hard time holding his own. So perhaps her minor request will not go down so hard. "If you are not amenable to that, Sir, I would be willing to discuss terms."

SPOCK HAS NEVER BEEN SUSCEPTIBLE to any effort to soothsaying, very nearly bristling at the concept of weakness, soft tones that remind him of simpler times, the careful caress of his mother’s voice in the dark.

He is no longer a child. He does not require comfort or attention. If he were victim to coddling, he knows no other response than to reject it. He wants to leave. Retreat. Free himself from scrutiny regardless of the soft lilt of empathy sugared into the Nurse’s words. At thirty, logic would supply that the universe would become easier to endure. But after days, a week, Spock is aware that he has gone on for too long without the aid of the kelaromol, wandering through a red haze of cracked rock and an empty void, the dark well of his planet’s destruction to the point of detriment.

He should explain that its prolonged exposure has made him jagged. He has cut himself into every room like a blade — this one included — unforgiving with its sharp lines and tightly controlled angles. He should articulate that his efficiency has unfavorably decreased, his focus strung and frayed, quaking failure into the tips of his fingers—

The result is unacceptable. So it is that he reminds himself — as he must so often — that his presence here is simply necessary at the end of his strength. That, and he can admit — however silently — that the Nurse’s attempt to sympathize is far more desirable than McCoy’s typical coarseness has ever been.

“ You suggest a method of physical therapy? ” It is a curious notion, and one that he cannot foresee possessing an adequate effect given the injury is telepathic. Still, it is enough distraction, another solution he can consider—

Until the kelaromol bleeds into his skin. At the edge of the biobed, his shoulders lax, eyelids shuttering as the cocktail sinks into his bloodstream. The effects are nearly immediate, crimson smoke dissipating from the corners of his thoughts, and abruptly dragging him into clearer awareness.

Spock exhales, allows his mind to reorganize and rebuild itself from the throbbing chaos behind his eyelids. Around his mental desert, fissures cease their steaming, clotting the errant flow of heat and ache wherein his stability had drifted out of his grasp. The world unites with him, verdant walls slipping back into place; it will be as it was eight point two days ago.

—finally.

“ Affirmative, ” he says loosely, too unbent to be disconcerted by lazy phrasing and his curving stature, “ Your assistance is much appreciated. ”

Spock blinks his eyes open, straightening carefully into a familiar board. Glazed, he finds her to his right, gratitude making his gaze dark, wide and dilated with liberated energy. He is objectively functional, he thinks — and would prefer to believe — and thus can see no reason why he cannot return to his abandoned obligations in the labs.

“ The latter, however, will not be necessary. I can return to my duties once the drug has set. ”

For their Chief Medical Officer, that defiance would be out of the question. But without Doctor McCoy to enforce the offering of rest, Spock is confident in testing what boundaries he can cross.

@brooklynislandgirl

#fasciinating #Counting Dust Mote by Mote|Cmdr Spock #Strayed From the Path|Cmdr Spock and Beth #Boldly Forward|Star Trek AU

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songsoomin · 4 years ago

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Begin Again Part 3 (A, S, F)

Word count 7k

Idol!Jongho x Fem!Reader, Best friend!Hongjoong. Reader has serious body confidence issues due to an emotionally abusive past relationship but Jongho helps her recover. Y/N is struggling with the anxiety of being intimate due to feeling exposed because she still can’t imagine anyone finding her physically attractive.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, both emotional and psychological, body shaming, anxiety issues. Oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex but reader is on oral contraception, very slight mention of manhandling and strength kink. Smut from the very beginning. In fact, most of this chapter is about Jongho and Y/N’s first time together.

Authour’s note: Reader is overweight but not as massive as she thinks she is. She has been conditioned through psychological abuse to believe she is very fat and unattractive. This is not intended to be the kind of story where reader becomes thin and is then happy and gets male attention (although, due to reader’s warped sense of self she does equate being thin with being happy). Even after losing some weight (for her own health and happiness) she is still somewhat overweight and curvy but the more important part is that she gets her confidence back and that is what makes her happier and more attractive.

Part 1 Part 2

Posted 9th February 2021

Soft moans left you as Jongho kissed your neck, biting lightly then swiping his tongue over the delicate skin where he'd just bitten. You were laying on his bed where you had been watching a film until Jongho's gentle touches turned into something more.

It had been months now since you had officially begun dating, after that night at the club. At the coffee shop you'd almost convinced yourself that he probably confessed because he'd been drinking but he promised to convince you otherwise, having seen the doubt on your face. You'd gone to bed that night hoping you were wrong and, true to his word, Jongho turned up at your apartment the next day for a real date.

Despite it having been months - and Jongho being the most amazing boyfriend - you'd not gone much further than kissing. Sometimes he would touch your chest over your clothes but you were still too insecure to be undressed in front of him. It wasn't that you didn't want to go further because you really, really did. Jongho's lips drove you crazy but something in your head just wasn't letting you progress in your relationship.

You sighed, frustrated, and Jongho pulled away to look at you.

"Y/N...it's fine. I told you I'll wait as long as you need. You don't need to rush this if you're not ready."

"I'm sorry, Jongho, you know I want to...I just...I can't get past this insecurity. It's like my brain can't accept that you'll still like me once you see me with my clothes off. I still can't see why you like me even with them on."

Your boyfriend looked at you sadly, his shoulders dropping slightly. It hurt him how you still thought of yourself.

"Y/N, you are so beautiful and one day I'm going to show you just how beautiful I think you are."

Despite him saying this kind of thing to you often, he could see that the message still wasn't getting through and wondered if there was something else bothering you.

"You know you're safe with me, right?" He said seriously.

"Of course, I do! It's not that."

Jongho was nothing like your ex but the damage he'd done meant that you were still having trouble trusting your new boyfriend. You trusted him to treat you well and be the wonderful person that he was...you just didn't trust that he'd still want you once you were naked in front of him. You genuinely worried that once he saw you like that he'd be disgusted and change his mind.

"Why don't we wind back the film and catch up on what we missed?" Jongho suggested.

He could see you were deep in thought but it didn't look like you were going to elaborate on your reply.

"Okay."

You gave him a small smile but it didn't reach your eyes. You watched the film distractedly, too busy hating yourself for not being able to move on from your past and feeling like a massive let down to Jongho.

********

Some weeks later you were in the same situation except in your apartment now, Jongho on your comfy sofa with you sitting on his lap, facing him. When he first asked you'd resisted, sure your weight would make him too uncomfortable but when you voiced your concerns he'd cheekily replied with a wink,

"There's only one place you're making me uncomfortable."

Now you were straddling his lap you loved it. You could feel his strong thighs beneath you and his large hands on your hips. Your boyfriend's tongue explored your mouth once again and every now and then he would nibble on your bottom lip, eliciting quiet moans from you.

As he moved his lips along your jawline and down the soft skin of your neck, you started to feel that familiar tingling in your core and couldn't help but to grind against his crotch. His jeans were tight against the large bulge there and you smiled to yourself thinking back to his comment about you making him uncomfortable. You continued to grind against him and a louder moan slipped past your lips at the friction you felt.

Jongho took this as a positive sign and slowly moved his hands underneath the floaty top you were wearing. He always moved slowly so he could guage your reaction before going too far for you. You froze before quickly gathering yourself and pulling your top back down - the dark blonde man's hands already gone having felt you tense up.

Looking away from him you mumbled the apology you'd become used to giving and earning the usual sad look from Jongho because he kept telling you, you don't have to apologise for how you feel. Gently he moved you off his lap and onto the seat next to him but took your hands in his.

"Y/N...I'm not trying to rush you, I just really want to show you how beautiful I think you are...and how much I want you."

He sounded so sincere it made you feel even worse. You didn't want him to feel bad when he'd done nothing wrong.

"I know and I'm sorry. You're not making me feel pressured at all and I do want to do this but I can't get over the fear that you won't want me once you really see me."

"What do you mean?"

A confused look crossed Jongho's face as he waited for you to elaborate. You thought for a moment, trying to frame the words.

"Well...once you see what I look like underneath all this..." you said feebly gesturing to your clothes, "you won't want me anymore. I'll disgust you."

Jongho managed to look both astonished and incredulous at the same time.

"That's really what you think? That I'm so shallow I'd change my mind over your appearance?"

You looked away because the look he gave you now just made you feel ashamed.

"Haven't I told you enough times how beautiful I think you are?"

"I know I look better now I've lost some weight but - "

He let go of your hands suddenly and you felt the weight of your mistake in his absence.

"Don't you dare imply I only like you because you lost weight!"

He'd never got upset with you before but the hurt and anger in his voice was unmistakable.

You looked up cautiously not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes.

"The first time I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen - that's why I was so shy around you. I couldn't have cared less what size you were. When you mentioned losing weight I saw that as my chance to get to know you alone. I didn't think you needed to change, I just wanted to spend time with you."

"Jongho, I - "

"You know, I don't have any problem waiting until you're ready and feel comfortable but what really hurts is that you think I could be anything like him."

The disdain in Jongho's tone as he mentioned your emotionally abusive ex was so obvious it made the vast difference between them strike you even more. They were polar opposites so why were you treating Jongho like he could be similar in any way? You sat, quietly ashamed while he continued.

"I think you look amazing but you are so much more to me than what you look like. How could you think I'd only care about that? Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

You looked up at your boyfriend without an answer. It was impossible to escape that you'd really hurt him but you didn't know how to make it better. You'd let your insecurities cloud your mind to the kind of man he was. It was him who was amazing and you'd made him feel like you didn't trust him at all.

"I'm sorry, Jongho...I just..."

You didn't have any other words so you just looked down at your hands while you wrung them unconsciously.

"I know your past treatment has really damaged how you feel about yourself...but I thought you knew I was better than that."

He paused just long enough to collect his keys and wallet before adding,

"I'm going to head home. I'll see you later."

You felt helpless to stop him as he walked out the door and quietly shut it behind him. The fact he'd shut it quietly was more like a slap in the face than if he'd slammed it - it showed how much more hurt he was than angry.

Tears bagan falling down your face as you sat motionless on the sofa. Jongho was so patient and understanding and you'd just stomped all over that. It was enough that your past was still hurting you; you couldn't allow it to hurt him, too.

********

"Joong?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't know what to do."

"About what?"

It was Friday night, your weekly movie night with Hongjoong and your bright red-haired best friend was sitting beside you on the couch engrossed in the film you were supposed to be watching but you were having trouble concentrating. All you could think of was the last time you'd seen Jongho and how hurt he'd looked.

"I really hurt Jongho and I don't know how to make it better. Has he said anything to you."

"No, he doesn't really confide in any of us about personal stuff. What happened?"

You cleared your throat as Hongjoong looked at you, expectant.

"Well, we haven't been...intimate yet..."

You trailed off as the male's eyes widened slightly as he realised where the conversation was going. You looked away, somewhat embarrassed. You'd talked to Joong about sex before but not about your own sex-life - or lack-thereof.

"Oh. Right. Well, now I think about it I know you guys weren't doing anything at the dorm but I guess I just assumed you were doing it here at your place. Not that I really thought about it."

He quickly added the last part and you laughed despite your unease.

"Can I ask what that has to do with hurting him?"

You shifted uncomfortably because you knew it was unfair to have let your past affect how you thought of Jongho and you didn't want Hongjoong to judge you.

"It's not that I think he'd be nasty or anything...I'm just so scared that he won't feel the same about me once he sees me...naked."

Hongjoong fixed you with a look that somehow managed to both sympathise and disapprove at the same time.

"Y/N, Jongho isn't like that. You know he's not."

You looked down at your hands, feeling a bit ashamed of yourself.

"I do know but I can't seem to let go of the fear that he'll realise I'm not good enough."

You best friend sighed and put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

"I do understand why you can't; your ex spent everyday making you feel worthless. But..." He shifted so he was looking you in the eye,

"I don't think you'll ever overcome it until you take that leap. Until you do it and see that you were worrying for nothing, that fear will just eat away at you. You've made so much progress with your confidence lately so I know you can do this."

"Believe me I want to." You said earnestly. "He's so fucking hot I just want to -"

"Hey!" Hongjoong startled you with a shout, "I do not want to know what you want to do to him. He's like my baby brother, I can't think of him doing that shit."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry."

"Seriously, though, Jongho really likes you and I can't imagine anything will change his mind. He doesn't vocalise his emotions much but I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks we can't see. He adores you. He has done since he first saw you."

You were resolved now. He was right, it would never get better if you didn't take a chance. You were supposed to be seeing Jongho tomorrow night so you wouldn't have long to wait.

"You're right, Joong. Thank you. I'm just going to have to go for it."

"Well, look at it this way...if you saw Jongho naked and he's not...uh...as big as you imagined, would it change how you felt about him?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Of course not. To be honest, though," You lowered your voice slightly, "from what I've felt I don't think that will be a prob-"

"Stop it!" Hongjoong looked horrified but you couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry, Joong. You did bring it up though."

********

The next day you decided to do everything you could to make yourself feel attractive and desirable; you waxed, shaved your legs, put on your best perfume and make up. When it came to clothes you didn't go all out as it was just a night in with Jongho but, earlier that day, you did spend some time shopping for a new matching bra and panties set. You didn't want to go slutty (yet) as it was going to be your first time with him but you still wanted it to be sexy. In the end you went for a pink with sexy lace detailing and cute, little bows. You weren't really sure what Jongho liked yet but you thought a bit of sexy and bit of cute would cover all bases.

You'd probably overthought all of it because you knew Jongho wasn't like your ex and he wouldn't be cruel but, in the back of your mind, you still had that fear that you would disgust him. It's what you'd come to think anyone would feel upon seeing you like that. You knew he was entitled to be upset with you when you voiced those fears to him, though, because it implied he was shallow. Thinking that he might care more about what size you were belittled his feelings for you.

You knew those feelings were there in everything he did. Hongjoong was right, Jongho didn't voice his emotions much but you could see how he felt about you in how caring he was. Often asking if you're feeling ok, making sure you're happy, making you laugh. He wasn't one for a lot of physical affection but he'd always wind his arm around you when out walking. If you were just watching tv he'd hold your hand or pull you in to his side. He seemed especially aware of when you were anxious like he was attuned to your emotions. He wasn't obvious about it but he would just take your hand and rub soothing circles over your skin with his thumb until you felt calmer.

When you really thought about just what an amazing boyfriend Jongho was, you could hardly believe you let your fear of rejection marr your relationship with him. You had to overcome it, though, because Jongho was just too precious to lose. You hadn't fully acknowledged it yet but you knew you were in love with him. Hopefully he felt the same about you.

The evening came and you and Jongho were watching a Netflix show you'd recently gotten in to, however, he could see that you weren't really concentrating. Observant of you, as always, he noticed your fidgeting hands and took them in his to calm you.

"What's wrong, Baby?"

What were you to say? 'I want to fuck you tonight but I'm not sure how to start things off’? You were never the one to start anything physical between the two of you, given that the nasty part of your brain loved to remind you that you might not be wanted.

"Nothing...I just wanted to do something but I'm not sure how to start."

That was a lie, really. You knew what to do, you just weren't sure how to summon up the courage.

A confused look flashed across your boyfriend's face at your very vague statement.

"What did you want to do?"

Summoning your courage you leant forward and pressed your lips to his. You felt his surprise for a second as he was always the initiator but it was only for a second - he eagerly returned the kiss from there on.

Jongho parted his lips slightly and swiped his tongue across your lower lip - an indication that he wanted to deepen it, to which you more than happily obliged.

As your tongues swirled around each other's you shifted on the couch to straddle his lap, just resting on his strong, thick thighs. This was another thing you'd never done, too worried your weight would be uncomfortable for him but you imagined if he was, he would let you know but he gave no sign of that. On the contrary, he seemed all too pleased to have you there, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you further down into him.

As you continued to kiss you could feel the bulge in his jeans growing and gave an experimental thrust of your hips, earning a low moan from the man beneath you.

"Mmm, Baby what's gotten into you tonight?"

The way he looked up at you, his dark eyes curious but full of desire stirred a long-buried confidence from within you, resurrecting your dirtier side.

"Nothing...but I know what I'd like in me."

The best word to describe the look on Jongho's face was dumbstruck. This was absolutely not the kind of thing he expected to hear coming out of your mouth and, after taking a few seconds to recover, he cleared his throat.

"Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? You know I don't mind waiting until you're ready."

"I don't want to wait anymore. I want you."

Just then a horrible thought struck you - courtesy of the nasty part of your brain. What if he didn't mind waiting because he didn't like you that much?

"Unless you don't want to, of course."

Jongho rolled his eyes.

"Baby, I want to. So much. Just because I'm willing to wait until you're comfortable doesn't mean I'm not desperate to fuck you."

"Really?"

"You have no idea how much."

Feeling elated, you kissed him feverishly, your confidence renewed by his words. He returned the kiss just as enthusiastically, slipping his tongue in and making you go weak, like always.

You began grinding your hips against his clothed cock once more and Jongho moved his lips from your mouth to your neck, kissing along your smooth skin towards your shoulder, moving the fabric of your flimsy top and your bra strap aside when it got in his way. Both of you were getting pretty worked up at this point so he pulled away to whisper in your ear,

"Let's go into the bedroom."

A thrill of excitement ran through you at the meaning behind those words because, despite your insecurities about your body, you had fantasised about fucking Jongho for months now.

He led you into your bedroom by your hand - he hadn't been in here before as you'd never got to this point but, despite having not seen it, he didn't waste time looking around the room; his attention was solely on you as he headed straight for the bed. He sat you down on the side of your big bed and gently pushed you back - you got the hint and shuffled into the middle of your big bed with him following. You laid down and Jongho settled beside you, propping himself up on one arm and looking down at you, his eyes searched your face one last time for any signs you weren't sure about this. It wasn't your first time but it was your first time with him and the first time with anyone since your confidence and self-worth had become so damaged.

"Remember...if at any point you don't feel comfortable or change your mind...tell me and we can stop."

You placed your hands on either side of his face and smiled up at him - he was always thinking about you over himself. You didn't know how you'd got this lucky.

"I might not feel comfortable with myself but I am with you. I won't want to stop." You told him confidently and it was true; you knew he was going to look after you.

You pulled him down towards you so you could kiss him again - it had only been minutes since you last kissed but you needed his lips on yours again.

Jongho's soft lips pressed against yours gently at first but became more demanding as time went on and you kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. The way your tongues swirled around each other felt somehow different this time - maybe because you both knew it was leading to more this time. Sometimes when you were kissing Jongho you felt you were both a bit reserved about it because you knew it wouldn't lead anywhere so why get yourselves that worked up? This time there was more passion, more desperation; you both wanted this so much. He wasn't rushing, though, he was taking his time and allowing you to feel comfortable before moving on to the next step.

Your boyfriend's lips left yours to travel down to your neck, kissing and sucking your delicate skin while you got your breath back from the long kissing session. While he did this, the hand that he had on the side of your neck slowly moved down your chest and under the flimsy top you wore. You couldn't help but tense up and he paused his hand's movement but you put your hand on top of his and moved it upwards, urging him to continue. As anxious as you were, you wanted him to carry on...to feel his hands on your body.

Jongho's fingers lightly ghosted over the part of your breast that wasn't covered by your bra and just this simple touch was enough to start the excitement building in you. You wanted more, you wanted to be free for him to touch your chest so you did the bravest thing you'd done in ages, you sat up and lifted your top right up over your head, throwing it somewhere on the floor. You felt exposed but Jongho smiled at you appreciatively. You didn't know but this reassured him in a big way. He was worried that, as he was always the one to initiate anything between you, he was pushing you forward quicker than you'd like but this small action let him know you wanted this, too, and that you trusted him to be exposed in front of him like this.

More confident now, the dark blonde straddled you on the bed and returned to kissing your neck, switching between soft kisses and licks to biting and sucking - wanting to mark you so everyone could see you were his. As he marked the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder a moan slipped past you at the sensation and you bit your hand to try and stifle it, embarrased at how easy it was for him to affect you like that.

"Don't." He said, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth, "I want to hear you. I want to hear how I'm making you feel."

You nodded and he went back to kissing you, slipping your bra straps off and moving down your chest, stopping to mark the top of one breast before reaching his hands behind to undo the clasp and removing the pretty bra completely. Instinctively your hands flew up to cover yourself but Jongho was quicker, grabbing your wrists and pinning them on each side of your head.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked with a small smile on his face. "I want to be able to see my beautiful girlfriend's body."

You couldn't deny him, not when he was looking at you so sincerely. Like he really did think you were something worth looking at.

"I'm going to let go of you now and you are not going to cover yourself up." The authoritative tone in his voice only added to your arousal but he really made you shiver when he brought one of your hands up to his head and said lowly,

"If you really need to do something with your hands you can play with my hair. I like it."

Your fingers trailed through Jongho's soft hair as he leaned down and brushed his lips against your breast...almost at your nipple but just teasing around it. Next he placed a kiss on the hardened bud, softly but just enough to excite you and have your core clenching around nothing. When he finally latched on to your nipple and sucked hard a thrill shot straight to your core and you pulled on his hair, earning a low groan from him.

He continued sucking and nibbling while he pinched and twisted your other nipple, switching sides every now and then and really working you up. If he was trying to excite you so much that you started to forget about your insecurities, then it was working. You didn't even tense up as he began to kiss down your stomach, undoing your jeans as he went. It would be a lie to say your worries weren't still in the back of your mind but Jongho was making you feel so good, kissing everywhere - even the areas you thought were too big - like he wanted to love every single part of you.

Your head snapped up when he stopped and got up - anxieties all ready to bubble up to the surface - but he just smiled at you from the end of the bed as he pulled your jeans completely off and said,

"Don't worry, Baby...my mouth will be right back in a second."

You giggled and relaxed back as he discarded your jeans, watching him crawl back up the bed to you before kissing you passionately. You felt his gentle fingers stroke your folds over your panties and had a brief moment of embarassment upon realising he must be able to feel the dampness from how excited he'd already made you. It was only a brief moment, though, because the overriding feeling was an absolute desire for him to stop being gentle and slide his long fingers inside you already. There was no way he didn't know this because you began to squirm slightly and bring your legs together in an effort to get a little friction at least.

"Are you that impatient?" He whispered in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

"I want you." You whimpered shyly; aware that he held all the power in this scenario but not minding one bit. If you had to define your temperament in bed, you would definitely be on the subby side.

"You can have whatever you want." He laughed affectionately, nibbling your earlobe before moving down to where you wanted him most.

Jongho slowly started to slide your damp panties down your legs and you felt like you just might explode. You were now wondering if he wasn't just going slow to make you feel more comfortable but instead wanted you to die from sexual frustration. You watched him impatiently as he finally took them off completely and he smirked. He was definitely teasing you and enjoying every minute of it.

His strong hands gripped your knees and parted your legs before positioning himself in between them but he wasn't done teasing yet. His soft lips ghosted over the delicate skin of your inner thighs right up to where they met your pussy. You could feel his breath tickle your folds as he hesitated, just admiring you and you whined loudly, partly because you felt too much on display but mostly because you needed some relief right now.

"Jongho!"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing. Every single part of you is just so beautiful, even your pretty little pussy. I could just look at it all day"

You moaned again at his words and he dove straight in like he'd been waiting forever to do this, his hot tongue parting your wet folds and licking straight up from your core to your clit as his hands found their way around your thighs to pull you closer to him.

The moan that left you when his tongue finally touched you there was loud and erotic because he'd worked you up so much you'd become desperate for it - your clit so sensitive from anticipation that you imagined you'd cum embarrasingly quickly. In response to your obscene noises you felt the vibration of Jongho's low groan run through you - only adding to the sensations his tongue was providing.

As he lapped at your clit you couldn't help but grab his hair tightly, trying not to pull too hard but failing. He didn't seem to mind, though, he was getting more turned on by it if the grinding of his hips into the bed beneath him was anything to go by. Desperate for more you pulled him further in to you by his hair and he somehow knew what you wanted; he closed his lips around your clit and sucked hard. Another porn star-like moan escaped you; no one had ever made you feel quite this good before. He was almost taking your breath away with ther sheer pleasure his mouth was giving you.

Jongho's fingers dug in to your thighs as he pulled you impossibly close and alternated between licking and sucking but it was when he started to nibble at your clit that you came hard and loud, the waves of your orgasm flooding over you and drowning you in more pleasure than you'd ever felt before. It seemed to last forever as the dark blonde didn't stop, still lightly sucking to keep your high going. It wasn't until your legs were shaking and you were whimpering from overstimulation that he finally let go - not before a couple of kitten licks to your now unbearably sensitive bud.

Jongho crawled up the bed and reclined next to you, leaning on his elbow so he could look down at your blissfully fucked-out expression. He cupped your face with his hand and kissed your lips; you were still a little dazed but you enthusiastically kissed him back. His hand trailed to your breast, using his thumb to stroke your hard nipple and you squirmed a little as the feeling went straight back to your swollen clit. It was both excrutiating and incredibly pleasurable but too much for you to bear right now so you reluctantly took his hand and interlocked your fingers while you kissed instead.

Of course, he knew what you were doing and the smug look on his face confirmed that.

"Was it too much?" He inquired with fake innocence.

You shook your head and closed your eyes, still a little out of breath and he giggled at your still dazed state.

You laid quietly for a few moments, your boyfriend's hands stroking your skin, before deciding it was his turn. You got up and pulled on his shirt, indicating you wanted it off, he quickly complied and, once free of the clothing, you pushed him so he was laying flat on the bed. Straddling him you kissed his soft lips first, noting there was still a faint trace of you on them, before giving a little kitten lick to his top lip and moving down to his neck. As you kissed the skin around his collarbone he moaned lowly - clearly he enjoyed being kissed there as much as you did.

The noises coming from Jongho seemed to increase as you made your way down his toned chest and abs, running your warm hands over his smooth skin as you went. His body was so beautiful but, for once, you didn't feel inferior. The way he had treated you so far made you feel adored and even now, naked and exposed, he looked at you so appreciatively. The only thing you were feeling right now was amazement that someone this perfect could be yours.

As you reached the line of soft hair that went down from his belly button and disappeared into his jeans you felt excited to see what was underneath. You had a good idea that he was on the bigger side from the bulge you'd seen after some heated kissing sessions but you couldn't wait to see it for real so you started to unbutton his jeans. Jongho leaned up on his elbows, watching with anticipation as you unzipped him and took the waistband of his jeans and boxers in your hands. You looked up at him as you pulled them down, taking in his wide eyes and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Part of you wanted to pay him back for the teasing while another wanted to draw out this moment of anticipation so you pulled down his clothing slowly, glancing up once or twice to see the slightly frustrated look cross his features. You smiled to yourself as you continued but the smile soon fell from your lips as you finally saw what Jongho had been hiding.

You felt your eyes widen as the smile dropped, your lips now open in awe. You knew he was going to be big but...fuck. Jongho wasn't just long, he was wide, too.

"Y/N?" His deep voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Oh...uh...yeah?"

"You like what you're seeing?" He asked, looking more than a little smug.

"Yeah...but..."

"But what?" He teased.

"I just didn't expect you to be quite this...big."

Jongho giggled at your flustered expression. "You worried you're not gonna be able to take it all?" He said cockily.

"Oh no, I'm having it all." Your awe had faded and now you were getting excited again; you were desperate to see how he felt inside you.

Jongho groaned at your words and shimmied his jeans and boxers down past his hips while you took his length in your hand and slowly started to stroke up and down. He watched your hand moving as you gazed at him, not breaking eye contact as you lowered your head and gave his most sensitive spot a little lick. He groaned as you enveloped the head of his cock with your mouth, having to open wide to get it all in, then closed his eyes and threw his head back as you started to bob up and down.

His hands found their way to the back of your head - not pushing, just holding on as your head moved, intertwining his fingers with your hair. You could feel when he was getting more excited because his hand in your hair started to hold tighter, although it seemed like he was holding back slightly, trying not to hurt you.

You pulled off his dick, turning your attention to that most sensitive spot on the underside just under the head, flicking your tongue over it again and again. His hand in your hair shook slightly and he couldn't help but grab even tighter - you smiled and looked up at him teasingly. He almost growled but, surprisingly, pulled you off him completely. You didn't have time for your surprise to turn to worry, though, as he quickly said,

"If you carry on like that I'm gonna cum."

"That was sort of the point." You retorted playfully.

"I don't want to cum in your mouth just yet. Besides, tonight is for me to make you feel good and...show you how much I love you."

You heard the words but they didn't register fully as you were too busy worrying about him.

"But I want you to feel good, as well."

"Oh, I will," He replied confidently, "but I want to fuck you now and make you cum some more."

A shiver ran down your spine at his commanding tone. How could you refuse that kind of offer?

Jongho gently pushed you down so you were laying on your back, looking up at him in anticipation, the excitement was building inside you again. His strong hands spread your legs then placed himself in between them; he was looking at your pussy hungrily as it clenched around nothing but desperately wanting something to fill it. He leant forward and held himself over you with one hand while, with the other, he lightly started to stroke your wet folds with his fingertips. A shaky sigh left your lips and you closed your eyes, a little frustrated as your boyfriend seemed to be a master at teasing. You couldn't decide if you loved it or hated it because it drew the moment out and you knew it would feel a hundred times better once he finally entered you but god did you want his cock right now.

You opened your eyes again to see Jongho smirking down at you while he continued to stroke your folds - he was clearly loving the effect he had on you. You looked up at him with pleading eyes and he giggled but gave in to your unspoken request by sliding two fingers into your aching hole and curling them upwards to press on your sweet spot. You moaned loudly from the sudden relief - you were right...the teasing made it all the more rewarding now that he was touching you.

Your dark blonde boyfriend lowered his lips to yours and kissed you passionately, his tongue dancing with yours as you let him dominate the kiss. He pulled back slightly and sucked your bottom lip before gently nibbling it then pulling away completely. You chased after his lips, not wanting it to end so he gave in and kissed you some more, still sliding his fingers in and out of your wet hole.

When he pulled away again you let him because you knew there was much better to come and you wanted more than just his fingers inside you. Jongho knelt between your legs and replaced his fingers with his achingly hard member, sliding it up and down between your folds and collecting your juices to lubricate himself before lining up with your heated core. As he pushed his length inside you, you both groaned in unison. You could feel him going deeper and stretching your walls out as they hugged his cock tightly - you'd never been with anyone that big before and it felt exquisite.

"Shit, you're so tight." Jongho growled as he bottomed out in you.

"Maybe you're just - aah! - too big." You said playfully as he found your sweet spot again.

Now that he'd found the right spot, Jongho continued to thrust, hitting it every time. It was overwhelming and you could feel the tension building in you causing you to keep clenching around his cock even tighter. As he picked up his pace even more, Jongho grabbed your hips so he could fuck into you harder. He was gripping you so tight you imagined the bruises that would be there in the morning and it caused your orgasm to approach even faster - you'd always had a bit of a kink for being manhandled.

Soon enough the high crashed over you and you cried out wantonly while Jongho did his best to keep going but your walls were holding him so tight now he could barely move.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good around my cock."

As your high ebbed away and you relaxed a little, Jongho began to fuck you again. Now your pussy was hyper sensitive you could feel every ridge and vein as he thrusted in and out and the lewd squelching noises of him fucking your own cum back into you. His harsh movements were causing your breasts to bounce and you had a tiny moment of embarrassment. You moved your arms to cover yourself again but instantly Jongho's strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them on either side of your head.

"I told you I wanna see you while I fuck you. Your tits look so beautiful bouncing as I slam my cock into you."

As if to confirm how much he liked it he bent his head down and took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and sucked hard. It felt so good you forgot all about being embarrassed and Jongho pinning you down while he fucked you was a bigger turn-on than you'd imagined. You hadn't told him but you loved how strong he was.

You could feel he was getting close to cumming by the way his hips began to stutter and his dick twitching inside you. You knew what you wanted but weren't sure if he wanted the same.

In a small voice you whispered, "Will you cum inside me?"

"God...I've been waiting so long for this. It was torture not being able to fuck you."

You took that as a yes.

Jongho's grunt increased as he neared and with a few more sloppy thrusts he came inside you, covering your tight walls in his creamy, white release.

He stayed inside you for a while, just getting his breath back. You gazed up at him wondering how he could be even hotter now that his hair was slightly sticking to his forehead with sweat.

Your boyfriend slowly pulled out of you and laid down beside you, drawing you into a hug and gently stroking your hair. It was quiet for a few minutes while you just enjoyed the sensation of being naked in his arms with nothing between you. Something was also playing on your mind, now that you remembered the words he spoke earlier but that you'd been to distracted to register at the time. After some time thinking you decided to just ask him.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He asked, bending his head down to kiss your hair.

"You said you wanted to show me how much you love me." Your voice was almost a whisper as the fear of being wrong gripped you but without a second's hesitation he replied,

"Of course I did. I love you. I know I haven't said it before tonight but it seemed like a good time to tell you."

You looked up at him, gazing back down at you with the most sincerity you'd ever seen in his beautiful, dark eyes.

"I love you, too, Jongho. I think I have done for months now."

"You are the most beautiful person in the world to me - inside and out. Don't ever forget that."

"How did I get so lucky to have you?"

"I am perfect, aren't I?" He joked. You rolled your eyes and playfully swatted at him.

"If you want to," he said, more serious now, "you can have me forever."

"Deal." You replied, snuggling back into his strong embrace.

#ateez #ateez x female reader #ateez jongho #atzinc #choi jongho x female reader #Ateez choi Jongho #Choi Jongho smut #Ateez smut #Ateez Jongho smut #Body positivity #Ateez angst #Jongho angst

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heartofsnark · 4 years ago

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter One): I'll let you in if you say it's okay

Notes: So, I’m taking inspiration from more than one lifepath start for my V and overall, I’m not sure how I feel about this first chapter. I’m not as confident in it as I have been in some of my other works and it’s undergone some heavy rewrites. But I’m officially sick of looking at it, so lets go. Still getting a feel for writing the cyberpunk characters too, tbh.

Word Count: 13083

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Internal Feels and struggles, (Aidan/V is very conflicted and struggling), Morning after sex

If you haven’t yet, please read the prologue: link here

Four years, a million miles, and a new alias later, not Aidan but V is standing in a motel bathroom, fresh from the shower. There’s a bruise forming on her chin from what she can’t remember. She touches up the two shaved slits in her left eyebrow, a pointless aesthetic choice given she wears a mask, she knows. But, she likes it and that’s what matters most. She pulls her bleached blonde hair back into a little ponytail, before brushing her teeth and changing.

She fastens her mask, a repurposed scav mask that she uses, not only to hide from her former family but to help her function in this world. No longer the green with red and pink faces the scavs use, it’s now black with white x-d out eyes and a wicked toothy grin. Vaguely cartoony and ominous, not her choice, but she’s far too nostalgic to ever change it.

Data and logistics flash across her vision, optic tech coming to life now that the mask is on. Finally, she puts in her hearing aids, the noise of the world coming back to her, the hum of a broken AC, the beat of a song coming from the radio, and a woman’s snoring drifting through the paper-thin walls. V pulls up her hood before she leaves the bathroom, ready to begin, her throat tight as she thinks of what the day holds.

I saw in you what life was missing

You lit a flame that consumed my hate

I'm not one for reminiscing but

I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace

The radio plays an old song from Ava’s favorite band, V knows the heavy drone of them anywhere, though she never can quite recall their name or song titles, only reminded of the days she pretended to give a shit about them in hopes it’d earn her at least a pity kiss. Why the hell the radio still plays music that old is beyond her. She turns her hearing aids volume down a little lower.

Music brought down to a hum, V’s attention turns to the bed, a woman who’s name she can’t remember is tangled in the sheets. Sun streaming through the window to shine on a bare freckled shoulder, the woman is around V’s age, maybe a year or two older with a pixie cut of dyed lilac hair. She fits in well with V’s track record of bedmates; unable or unwilling to give even half of what she got, leaving the nomad to take care of herself. But, as much as she’d appreciate an orgasm from something other than her own hand, she gets what she wants from them in the end; a glorified body pillow that helps her sleep.

“Mmm, you up?” The woman asks, stirring from under the blankets, she pushes a hand into her hair. She blinks her eyes a few times, before taking in V’s outfit, “you’re leaving already?”

V’s mask optics quickly reads lips, giving the world subtitles, essential when she wants to forgo hearing aids. The tech is far more advanced than the human eye when it comes to lip reading. The only downside is the mask requires someone to be facing her as they speak. So, the hearing aids are still necessary unless people are kind enough to accommodate her; which they never are.

“Gotta get back on the road,” V signs, a modulator translator in her mask speaks it in a monotone AI voice.

“You don’t wanna get breakfast or…?”

“No time,” V crouches down beside the bed, so she can properly meet the woman’s eyes and, “you remember what I told you, don’t you?”

“About not telling anyone what you look like or whatever…?”

“No whatever’s to it, if anyone comes around asking about me, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

“Yeah yeah, crystal clear, asshole.” The woman groans, not liking the aggressive tone V’s picked up, but it’s a serious matter. Most people get it, everyone nowadays seems to have enemies, but apparently not everyone understands. More flies with honey as they say.

“I’m sorry,” she signs, “it’s just important to me, life or death. I’ll order some room service for you before I go, sound good?”

“Hmm…I like pancakes.”

“Alright, I’ll put the order in then head out.”

“Okay…I won’t tell anyone, about you, promise.”

“I appreciate that,” V signs, putting in the room service order on the tablet provided.

Thankfully, pancakes are enough to earn the woman’s silence on the matter. The less people who have a bone to pick with her, the better. Though, she still hopes The Herd can’t follow her where she’s going anyway. Dufflebag thrown over her shoulder, V leaves the motel, stepping out into the dry heat of California. Even in the early months of 2077, the desert is burning hot, though it will be freezing by nightfall. The joys of the Badlands.

Yucca is a little nothing town south of Night City, surrounded by long agonizing stretches of desert. Not a place she’d give another thought to if not for her vehicle breaking down. The cargo in the trunk, locked up so the mechanic can’t get nosy, is meant for a client in Night City. The job came with forms and docs that’ll get her past the border.

She rolls up the metal garage door to the shop, seeing the older man in a trucker hat and flannel working over her car. The old Thorton Galena “Rattler”, bought off a Bakker nomad, who thankfully had no idea who her birth family is. It’s put together with rust, duct tape, and luck, bought for fifty eddies because it’s a walking tetanus trap; but it’s hers.

“Hey…drifter…” He greets her with a weary expression.

There’s two kinds of folks in these small towns that are scattered across the country like stars. Those who are weary of outsiders, know the dangers that lurk across the Badlands and have their guard up the moment someone they don’t know shows up. And for them, her refusal to show her face or speak with her own voice only adds to the suspicion.

And then there’s the other ones, the ones like that lilac haired girl still curled up in dusty sheets, eating shitty motel pancakes. The ones who see her, the people like her, the nomads, the drifters who travel the country and they see someone who can bring a moment of excitement to their dull little lives. The ones bored to tears with watching tumbleweeds all day and will climb in bed with V and their own preconceived notions of who she is just to have a night of excitement.

Each sees danger when they look at her, chaos in human form, someone who may just disrupt the status quo of their piss-pot of a town. An idea that terrifies or excites them. Then the realization hits that she’s just breezing through, a ghost without a trace. And for a moment they’ll be relieved or disappointed, then they’ll forget she was ever there.

“You got my car fixed?” she signs before she rolls the garage door down a foot or two shy of the ground.

“Not quite, electric coupling module is shot to shit.”

“You said it was an easy fix.”

“Guess I was wrong,” he turns to face her, arm crossed over his chest, “you could always find a new shop, find someone else who won’t question some scav lookin’ nomad why she’s hugging the border.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ scav, move,” she signs before shoving him away from her car engine, if he can’t get this thing up and running, she’ll do it her god damn self. She needs to get to Night City, yesterday, she’s already frustrated and him acting like he’s doing her a favor by staring at her engine for an hour isn’t helping.

“Got any idea what you’re doing?” Condescension drips from the mechanic’s words.

“Gonna, rig a hotwire, bypass the coupling.” She switches out some plugs, trying to find something, anything that will save her heap.

“Compressor will run on and on, could seize up.”

“Better than standing around scratching my head.”

She walks around her Rattler, pulling open the driver side door and climbing in. Please, any god listening right now, don’t fuck this up for her. V presses down the ignition and tries to rev the engine; sputters but doesn’t start.

“It’s like I was telling you,” the mechanic grumbles, so she tries again and another sputter.

“Fuck off,” she signs, wishing the tone of the AI voice would better convey her frustration as she begs her car, her baby, to start.

Come on baby, she thinks and her hands twitch to sign, her voice catching. Her desperation nearly making her verbal. Her rattler, her baby, her beautiful heap of rust and luck has carried her through three years in the Badlands. Just a little further, into the city, and V will find her a decent mechanic to give her vehicular child the treatment she deserves. She presses the ignition and revs the gas.

And that engine roars to life and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, her baby lives, she fucking lives! V can’t contain her smile, thankfully hidden behind the cover of her mask, she could scream. She’s starting the next chapter of her life with her baby by her side.

“Not too shabby, question is how long will it last you,” the mechanic rains on her parade as he shuts the hood.

“Better than whatever you were trying.”

V rolls her eyes and gets her walkie talkie radio out, hooking it to a jack in her car to try to boost a signal; she needs to let her client know she’s coming into the city, so they can prepare to pick up the cargo.

“Antennae on this heap don’t look like it packs much of a punch, doubt you’ll hear much.”

There was a broadcasting comms tower outside of the town, she saw it as she made her way in, she’ll get in and boost her signal with it. Should be fairly easy. She just wants to make it into the city, her chance at a new life. Seventeen years with The Herd, under her father’s thumb. Three years running, never able to settle down, never knowing when her family would find her when she’d be put down. Years wasted, she’s ready to live, to really live on her own fucking terms.

A flash of khaki fabric, visible through the opened gap in the garage door catches her eye and a chill runs down her spine. Trouble. Black cybernetic hands catch the bottom of the metal door and roll it up; an older man in a sheriff’s uniform with a cowboy hat comes strolling in.

“Hey, Mike, didn’t know you had a customer…” He draws out, looking over V as if she was carrying the plague.

“Just rolled in a few hours ago, I, uh, thought she would have told you.”

“Now, don’t you worry, we’re gonna hash this out,” the sheriff says, strolling over to her, he puts an arm up on her car roof, leaning against her open car door and looming over her, “Don'tcha know you owe the sheriff a word when you pay his town a visit? To tell him what brought you here, maybe even over a cup of coffee.”

“You that hard up for dates?” She signs in return, catching a muscle twitch of annoyance, and she smirks behind her mask. Five seconds in and she’s getting under his skin.

“Names Andrew Jones, you probably heard of me.”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Served in special ops in the last war, silver shoguns, ring any bells?”

“Can’t say that it does.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “don’t like to get along, do you?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He scowls at her as he shifts his weight off her door and moves to walk in front of her vehicle, looking it over. His foot raises up, dirty boot now on the grill of her car and she wishes nothing more than to just drive forward and run his dumbass over. She doesn’t have fucking time for this; her client is waiting. She doesn’t even want to be in his dumbass little town; she already fucked the only good thing here and found nothing but disappointment.

“That a nomad vehicle? I might have figured. Scav mask, nomad car; what that make you?”

“You got a problem?”

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, nothing boils my blood like a fuckin’ stray. Where your clan pitch camp?”

“No camp, no clan, just little ole me, aren’t you lucky?”

“Don’t buy it, nomads always stick with their pack.”

“Got no pack, they don’t suit me much.”

“Makes you an outcast among outcasts.” He sneers at her, looking down his nose at her, like he’s something special and she’s gum stuck on his shoe.

“Let me guess, you’re the type of guy who believes every line of shit the corps feed you, that nomads are the world’s greatest evil.”

“No, I’m a man who respects order, corps brought us that order-”

“The corps pay you and have you on a leash like a dog, you know that?”

“And you don’t wanna see me bare my fangs.”

“Try and I’ll put you down,” V’s fingers move before she can give another though, no interest in making peace with this asshole.

“You threatening me, girl?”

“No more than you are me, stay out of my way and I’ll get out of yours.”

“Big talk coming from a misfit.”

She lets out a short laugh, the sound layered with her modulator, making it louder and doubled.

“Look, I’m not scared of some shithole town’s sheriff who thinks a badge is a crown,” she signs, hands moving so quick and hurried that the sound of skin hitting skin rings out, “I want to leave your town, you want me gone, move your ass and I’ll make us both happy.”

“Get going,” he moves out from in front of her car, “I got no mind to see you drifting around these parts.”

“What part of this conversation made you think I want to?” She finishes signing before slamming her car door shut.

“What was that drifter?” His voice fades away as she guns it out of the repair shop, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

Though, maybe breaking into the communications tower is technically drifting, but she needs to radio her client. Sinclaire will need to know she’s coming into the city, so they can meet up, exchange eddies for cargo, and she can figure life out from there. She takes a road that goes north and cuts through the desert, her Rattler practically born for off roading as she takes the heavy bumps of the sand dunes and drives through cacti, pulling up to graffiti covered bumpers just outside the fenced in tower.

It's an amalgamation of latticed rusted metal with satellites on top, graffiti decorating the buildings and chunks of the tower itself. It clearly hasn’t been used or maintained in years, but it should still boost her signal. V climbs out of her vehicle, trying to open the door to the fencing. It doesn’t budge at all and she pouts, then kicks it as hard as she can. Her steel toed boot works as well as a key, making it swing open.

It’s a quick little journey, two little flights of stairs she jogs up with ease. Then it’s a ladder, the peeling yellow paint sticking to her palms. And then she’s as high as she can reach, transmitter box in view. But with the view around her, wind whipping through, she takes a moment to peel off her mask and breathe. Sun beating down and warming her face, the breeze cools her skin under it’s rays, wicking away sweat that sticks to her brow.

A deep inhale of air before she forces herself to move again, the rusted front of the transmitter box breaks at the hinges when she opens it, she pays no mind and throws it aside then jacks in her walkie-talkie radio. V leans against the tower railing, radio in hand, but not ready to let go of the quiet.

The smell of rust and paint surrounds her as she takes everything in. She’ll miss this, she realizes, the open road and the Badlands have always been her home. But it’s not safe, not really. The Herd has shown no signs of letting this go. For four years, she’s dodged her sister and Ava; the two tasked with being her trackers, repeated close calls over all this time. They’ve interrogated and demanded answers from the folks in these sleepy little towns she breezes through. The mask has helped, but every day the feeling of them nipping at her heels gets worse. Her stomach churns at the lengths they’ve gone to. V’s father wasted no time in turning her sister against her, turning Eira into a weapon to do his bidding, to put down the defected child who never should have made it past nine.

He’ll kill her for not falling in that same line, for refusing to be his soldier. Forced to choose between death or conformity, practically one in the same, she tries to seek a third option.

Night City has its own rules, laws, restrictions; a city completely controlled by corps. It’s disgusting in its own right. But The Herd isn’t allowed in the city, border control of Night City has strict orders to keep all known or identifiable members of the Raffen Shiv clan out. Corps hate Nomads, as a general rule, but they really hate The Herd. A Nomad family with no respect for anyone else’s laws, a strong anti-consumerism, anti-cyberware, and anti-corp attitude; The Herd might as well send a personal fuck you to Night City. Its not perfect, not even good, a crime infested corp run cesspool, but it’s the safest option. More security, more boundaries, more faces so V can blend in. Even if Eira and Ava make it into Night City, which she’s not naïve enough to believe impossible, they’ll have six million folks to work their way through. Nomads stay in pack because groups provide safety; a sea of city faces is just an extension of that.

But that safety comes at a cost. It means no more open spaces, no more serenity, no more campfires with burnt marshmallows, or driving down dirt roads as fast as she can with her windows down, and screaming out in excitement as she takes on every bump and turn with reckless abandon.

There’s no perfect choice, every decision carries a sacrifice, but if the cost of staying in the Badlands could mean her life, her freedom, her identity… the city is the better option… she thinks…

A pessimistic or perhaps realistic part of her can’t help but feel like he’ll get his way, her father will have her head on a pike, will slaughter his own daughter like cattle. And his power over The Herd will only grow. After all, if he’d go this far to put down his own child for an act of betrayal, how could anyone else ever think to be spared his wrath. The already loyal army of followers will be further forced into submission by fear.

Maybe this is all a waste of time, she wonders, often does. Maybe it’s just dragging out the inevitable. Hell, a part of her wonders if she’d be better off begging for mercy, if he’d offer it just to maintain control. Would she be safer if she just gave in? Is she really the kind of person who needs to be half of a whole to function, to feel safe?

But, is it wrong to want something more? To be able to look back at her life, no matter how long or short it may be, and know she lived, that she gave it all she had. That she stayed true to herself, whoever that is. To prove that she doesn’t need them, that she isn’t a burden depending on others to carry her weight. She can make something of herself in Night City, can live on her own terms, even if only until the inevitable comes knocking at her door. It will be a bit of breathing room, a chance to just be, instead of constantly looking over her shoulder.

Family was meant to be her security, her safety, but were they ever really? V shakes her head, if she goes down every thought pattern, every reason, every doubt, every feeling; she’ll be here forever.

She pulls her mask back down and radios her client after another moment of soaking in the breeze, it's odd they didn’t go through a fixer, but frankly she doesn’t care. A middleman who takes part of the cut isn’t ideal for her either. She’s looking for the past possible new start and the more eddies in her pocket, the better that’ll be.

“V?” Sinclaire speaks her alias once she gets through.

“Speaking,” she signs, as always thankful her mask spares her voice in moments like this.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Hit a snag, but I’m on my way into the city now.”

“That’s what I like to hear, once you’re through the border radio me and we’ll talk meet up.”

“The docs you sent,” she signs, thinking to the falsified passport docs he had sent out her way, “they should get me through border check.”

“Absolutely, border control barely checks ID on customs, but that little pamphlet will breeze you through.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“Don’t worry V, this is a piece of cake. You’re gonna love Night City, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah? That so?”

“Mmhmm, once we finish the trade off, I’ll show you around. There’s a place in Wellsprings with synth steak to die for, I’ll treat you.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’m heading out now.” She agrees easily, it’ll be better to have more connections in the city, people she gets along with well enough and know the place better than her.

“See ya soon.”

Her client doesn’t know her exact clan, just knows she needs papers to get into the city. There’s more than one group of Raffen Shiv that aren’t allowed in city limits; hell she’s pretty sure Wraith’s aren’t. Though, corps make special deals to let them in when they need work done. As shitty as they are, The Herd has yet to whore themselves out to that degree, one thing she can still respect about her father. She fiddles with the leather cuff bracelet around her wrist, that hides the small crown shaped brand that he placed on her skin as a child, his way of marking his blood family. She’s considered taking a knife to it, but some part of her isn’t ready to.

V’s steps are hurried as she leaves the comms tower, heavy boots stomping over metal as she makes the quick journey back to her Rattler, the red beast of a car waiting where she left it. She climbs into the vehicle and twists the vehicle around. She follows the dirt road back out to the highway, headed out to the city.

She races back through the little town, picking up as much speed as she can, wind whipping through the open windows. Yucca is a blink and its gone, V having cruises right through the nothing town and continuing down the highway. Empty stretches of desert decorated with cacti as she races down the expanse of roadway.

Then the signs warn her of border crossing, nearing the city, her heart rate picking up as she grows closer to changing her life. A border checkpoint, enclosures and offices with an overpass above the divided lanes of the highway. Each lane leads to a border control officer with holograms labeling what each lane is for based on why someone is coming into the city; whether or not they have cargo to check. She slows down, so she can pull off her mask, the less suspicious she looks the better. Border guards aren’t going to stand for being questioned by The Herd, so its minimal risk.

She switches over to the lane for customs check, pulling up to the raised blockade, beyond it another car coming through is scanned. An armed border guard not far away and she waits as the vehicle is giving the go ahead to leave; blockade coming down and guard ushering her to drive forward. V drives that little bit forward; cement yellow blockades raise before and behind her vehicle. Locking her into place makes her uncomfortable, like she can’t escape.

“Stay in the security check area,” a guard tells her over the intercom, like she would have tried to drive through the blockade without his warning. A beat i silence, a minute or two passes as the scanners run along her car.

“Would the owner of the vehicle please report for further questioning.”

V grabs the falsified passport, manifest marked LOA, and the bribe chip for good measure. She keeps her head down as she gets out of the vehicle, makes her body language small as she walks into the office building. Maintaining a non-threatening demeanor in order to ease any friction that may come her way. The door automatically opens, a waiting room of people and a desk behind bulletproof glass where a worker stands. A map of the New United States across one of the walls.

“If you’re armed, leave your weapon here.” The worker behind the desk calls out and V unholsters her revolver, allowing him to check it and put it in a drawer, “report to room two.”

She nods, feeling naked without a weapon on her hip, but she knows this is the way of things. V turns the corner, finding the door with a two marked next to it. She opens the door and a lump forms in her throat. It's a small cramped little excuse of a room, a guard already at the rinky dink desk and a chair in front of it. She takes small timid steps to the chair, discolored with either dried blood or rust, she can’t be certain. The man is dressed in a neon vest; some sort of either goggles or optic implants over his eyes that scan her over as she sits down. He wastes not a second in lighting a cigarette and her nose wrinkles as smoke billows to fill the small room. She can already feel the stench of it clinging to her clothes and wishes she could snatch it from his hand.

“Papers?” he asks.

She hands over the manifest, her falsified passport, and the credit chip without a word. Metallic implant augmented fingers put the cred chip aside to look over the little blue document, then he places the paper over the cred chip, hiding it from prying eyes that may peek into the office. Meanwhile, V tries to maintain her most innocent of expression, puppy dog eyes primed if any issue arrives. Small and adorable has few benefits in this world; but she plans to take advantage where she can. Being underestimated, assumed to be weak or docile, as much as it hurts does have perks.

“What are you transporting?”

“It’s all in there,” she signs in response, because frankly she has no idea what she’s transporting. Some corp crap.

“Hmmm, tell me, who do you ride with?”

“Bakkers,” she lies through her teeth, her car was bought off one, so it seems like an easy enough excuse.

“They stop installing personal links?” He asks, puffing out a plume of smoke, his gaze on her linkless palm.

“Religious reasons, most of the clan has them, but my mom raised us to stay ‘ganic, god given, ya know?” She signs, a practiced excuse for when she’s asked about her lack of implants. Same as the excuse laid out in the passport.

“Is that so…” he takes a deep drag off his cigarette and V bites her lip not to say anything she’s hit with another face full of smoke, “you know, times like this I’m so glad not to be on the other side of that table.”

“Feelings mutual,” she signs before she can even consider stopping, aggravated by this man’s entire existence at this point. She gave him all the documents, this should be done with by now.

“Go on now.”

She jumps at the chance to be excused, taking in a deep fresher breath of air when she’s released from the smoke box of an interrogation room. V runs a hand through her hair as she turns the corner. There’s another armored guard standing beside the desk now, his eyes doing a lazy look down of V’s frame.

“Don’t forget to collect your personal items.” The worker behind the desk tells her and she stops there, giving him a raised eyebrow before he goes to collect her gun, “be careful with that toy and welcome to Night City.”

As much as she’d like to gripe about the toy comment; as if she’s a child, she can’t help but find herself smiling at the greeting. She’s finally here, finally getting into the city. A life on her terms; a little breathing room between her and the clan. V holsters her gun, grin playing on her lips.

“Those little shits all imagine Night City to be some sort of paradise,” the armored guard comments about her, but not to her, looking over her to the worker behind the desk.

“What are you gonna do they’re all young, naïve, which is just another word for ignorant.” The worker replies and V’s grin has died, maybe that’s the case for others, but Night City is exactly what she needs. Her situation isn’t the same. She doubts those young ignorant kids they’re talking about were running from their own death.

She shakes her head, not worth the effort it’d take to respond, V leaves the building. Her Rattler a short distance away, she’s nearly bouncing as she rushes towards it, climbing into the driver’s seat. Even the overpass above her has words welcoming her to the city, she’s sure she won’t find paradise, but there...she’ll make this life her own.

There’s barely a blip of distance between her and the border check when she sees them. Black corporate vans coming towards her, her heart jolts into her throat and sweat edges along her skin.

“Fuck!” V curses out loud, border fucker tipped off the corp.

“Stop the vehicle! You are transporting corporate property!” A voice rings out from the vans and V takes a sharp turn off the road, her baby is meant for off roading after all.

“I repeat, stop the vehicle!” The corporate voice yells out again.

“Stop the vehicle,” she murmurs in a whiny voice to herself, mocking the corpo, “give us back our stuff, stop committing crimes, wah, wah, wah.”

She rolls her eyes, amused by her own bullshit as she punches in the keypad of her Rattler, starting up the automated turret attached to the roof. It’s not the most high tech system, but it has a lock on function and should get the job done. The sounds of bullets pinging off metal creates a cacophony around her as she careens through an abandoned rural area, taking sharp turns to try to shake them. V takes out her hearing aids to stop her forming headache and focus on what she’s doing. The rumble of her turret shakes the car as it fires, letting her know its still working fine. Glass break out of the back of her car, a bullet piercing through, her back sprayed with the shards. She’ll be digging a bullet out of her dashboard later, she’s sure.

A bright flash of orange, flames enveloping a van as her turret hits a gas tank the right way. One down, two to go. She keeps the pedal to the floor, speed topping out as she races away from the approaching vans. Another sharp turn and she watches as a van crashes into a wall, one last stubborn fucker.

There’s a slight tense to the vibration of her turret overhead, bullets hitting the top of it, aiming to disarm it, as she goes through another turn. A shot bursts through her side mirror, assholes, do they have any idea how much it’s going to cost her to repair this heap. More than it’s probably worth.

The vibration that shakes her car settles down over her head, turret no longer firing, but the van is still chasing her. It fucking jammed, her turret fucking jammed again, of course it did. V hauls off and punches the roof of her Rattler, right beneath where the turret is, used to this issue at this point. As always, the hard punch manages to spur it back on and it fires up again, blasting at the last van at full speed.

A bullet hits the corpo van’s front tire, knocking it off path; final one down.

“Suck my dick, Arasaka!” She screams out for no one else to hear.

She’s grinning as she finds a collection of abandoned trailers and garages, pulling into one, she’ll need to call her client, figure out a meeting place. They may want her to lay low for a bit until Arasaka calms their tits about this. But she’s in Night City, finally, what could go wrong from here. Cut out a nice living for herself, solo work or maybe something else, who knows. Get herself a place and do whatever the fuck she wants from there. She slides on her mask, puts her hearing aids back in, and rings her client.

“Sinclaire?”

“V, you make it over the border yet?”

“Yep, out just south of Pacifica according to the GPS, little run in with the corps but I shook them. When and where you wanna meet?”

“Little China, you know where the old Club Atlantis is?”

“Not remotely, but ping me the coordinates and I’ll find it.”

“Sending it to you now, think you can get there by three am?”

“Yeah, no problem, prefer to do this under cover of darkness?”

“Much prefer, see you soon, V.”

V hangs up the call and punches in the coordinates he sent, GPS map firing up to tell her where to go. She pulls out of the abandoned garage and gets herself back out on the road, driving further into the city.

She doesn’t like driving in the city. V determines about a minute into being into the actual bulk of the city. There’s neon signs and adverts everywhere she looks; most displaying someones ass or tits. She wouldn’t consider herself a prude, far from it given just how many people she’s spread her own legs for, but she does appreciate some decorum… These are sleazy, dirty…

And there’s traffic. Even at the late hour, people are on the roads, and they’re slow. So, fucking slow. Move, your asses. A motorcycle might be a good investment, she’d be able to just ride between traffic or weave through the other cars.

She manages to reach the spot before three am, though she wants to scream by the time she arrives. The building blends in easily, just another large shuttered up structure with graffiti covering its outside; symbols for the Tyger Claws, because correct spelling is a bad look for a gang, apparently.

V lets out a huff of air as she gets out of her car to wait; examining the little bloody scratches on her shoulders and arms where the glass hit her. Nothing serious, a splash of rubbing alcohol to disinfect and she’ll be fine. But there is a slight sting to the injuries that make moving her arms and shoulders uncomfortable. Corpo fucks. V leans against her car, taking in her new city.

And she shouldn’t be amazed, she knows that. The traffic drove her nuts and she’s been in landfills that smelled nicer. But despite it all, she finds herself impressed at the buildings that stretch on into the heavens. The bright lights and neon against a dark sky is gorgeous; a high vantage point and she’s sure it’d look like something out of a movie. She finds herself in awe as hope nestles its way into her chest.

Not perfect, nothing ever is, but she can work with it. She can build something here.

A sharp honk gets her attention, disrupting her moment of reverie. The street and road have been abandoned mostly; only her and the limousine coming to a stop next to her. She gives a slight wave to the driver, then forms a V with her fingers, as if they needed any more indication of who she is.

The driver is not her client, instead a big bulk of a man with gorilla arms implants, black metal for fingers, he gets out of the driver’s seat and a similarly sized man steps out of the back seat. Her client’s got muscle around him it seems, maybe he just wants to make sure she doesn’t get squirrely and try to pull something.

Both guards out, they open the backseat door close to the street and her client finally emerges. He’s not a particularly tall man, though as with most adults, he is taller than her. Sandy slicked back hair and unnaturally bright green eyes; likely optics.

“V, darling, nice to see you in the flesh, you got the goods?”

“Right here,” she signs before moving behind her car, opening the trunk so he can see the Arasaka cargo crate.

“Fantastic, load it up, boys.”

“Woah, woah,” V signs and sits on the crate before the two bodyguards can grab it, “eddies first, then you take the cargo.”

“Oh, V, honey…” His voice drips with condescension and a chill reverberates down her spine, “you did good work, only a shame you’re so naive.”

“The fuck do-”

Pain cracks through her skull, knocking V off the cargo crate and onto the ground. Another sharp thwack of pain across her head and back; something blunt striking her before she can get up. She groans out as she rolls over onto her back, looking up at the bodyguard who’s holding a baseball bat, what looks like blood staining it. Her head and back hurt; her head spinning and she’s unable to get her bearings.

“Load the cargo into the car.”

“What do you want us to do with her?” One of the guards asks Sinclaire and he looks down at her, like a cockroach.

“Eh, no one will come looking for her. Might as well throw her away with the trash,” he kicks her side, sneering when she grunts in pain, “give her another hit for good measure.”

“Got it,” the guard nods and starts to raise the baseball again, high above his head for a hard swing and she instinctively twists to give him the back of her head again.

“We’ll scrap the car, ge-”

And then the bat comes down on her, a rush of pain before consciousness slips from her grasp.

Time loses all meaning when the world is blacked out, but eventually the light filters back in and her senses return. She can feel her hearing aids still in and its reaffirmed by the sounds she hears, the faint murmur of people. The smell around her is awful, disgusting, and she can feel stuff around her. Plastic bags scratching at her skin, something wet touching her arm. Her mask shifted and she forces herself to move, she pulls it back in place, blinking.

Garbage bags, some intact and others shredded. He actually had her thrown into the trash, that son of a bitch. V pushes the trash bags off of her, city lights starting to glimmer through, neon against a black sky. She finds a metal edge of the dumpster and pulls herself up, body still aching in protest as she emerges from her would be grave. Cold air hits her bare arms, the city far colder in the early months than the Badlands. She’s in an alleyway dumpster and she hears gasps of shocks, turning to see civilians shocked to see someone climbing out of the trash. She’s be ashamed if she weren’t so furious.

V punches the side of the dumper, feeling it reverberate with the force, this was supposed to be her shot at a new life and now she’s in a god damn dumpster.

She’s going to kill Sinclaire, she’s going to fucking kill him, son of a bitchfucked her over and he’s going to pay with blood. But how the hell does she even reach him? He never gave her details of where he spends his time or let alone where he lives. Hell, she doesn’t even know where she is. She needs her car back and her luggage from it, she doesn’t even have a change of fucking clothes as it stands right now.

“What time is it? Where am I?” she signs at the civilians, still straddling the edge of the dumpster, maybe they can be some help.

“Uhhh, like 10pm? And Heywood…?”

So, he dragged her away quite a bit, so...maybe he frequents the area. Still doesn’t tell her much, she needs to find him. And she needs to find her car, but how the fuck does she accomplish that?

“Don’t suppose you have any idea where I could find Luke Sinclaire, do you?”

“Uh, no,” the stranger kind of raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the whole situation, “but uh, you could always talk to Padre. He’s the local fixer.”

Of course, she’d have to get a fixer involved, not using one is probably what got her in this mess in the first place. Sinclaire knew she had no ties to her Nomad family, new to the city, and no fixer involved. He basically had license to do whatever he wanted without fearing someone would come for him or come looking for her. V touches the back of her head, fingers coming back red, dried blood matting her hair. He meant for her to die, she’s sure, but the blunt trauma wasn’t enough to do her in.

“Where’s Padre?” she signs, she doesn’t have money to pay a fixer but maybe they can work something out. She doesn’t want to lone wolf it and end up in a dumpster again.

“He has his own parish, but he’s usually at the El Coyote Cojo right about now, might be able to catch him if you hurry.”

“El Coyote Cojo, which would be…where?”

“Bar a little north of here, you really aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Thanks for your help and stunning observational skills; I’m off.”

She pulls her hood back up over her head, hiding her bloody matted hair as she leaves the alley way and goes vaguely north. New chapter of her life, she’s injured, alone, broke, and smells like garbage.

Honestly, sounds about right for her luck. But, she’s far from given up. She navigates the Night City streets, stopping to ask a stranger where the bar is again before she finally finds it. She keeps expecting to get weird looks, like the ones that were usually sent her way in the small towns she’d visit on the road. But even with her mask, no one pays her much mind. And why would they?

V passes at least four more outrageous looking strangers along her way to the bar. People’s who’s entire body is made of gold cyberware, a woman with skin that looks like plastic, a cowboy with cybernetic arms and legs, and a girl with what looks like cat ear implants on top of her head. Things that make her stop and give a second glance, but no one here even minds. Night City has its own weirdness limit and her mask doesn’t even come close to hitting it. There's an anonymity she’s never known before and its kind of nice. Even bloody, mask on, trash covered; she’s just one face in a sea of millions.

El Coyote Cujo is a lowlit bar with traditional Mexican decorations across it and as expected in the evening, it has a fair number of patrons bustling around. People shooting pool, downing tequila, and chatting amongst themselves. And for the first time, she finds eyes landing on her. Not necessarily weirded out by her masked appearance, but more so wary of a stranger. She pays them no mind, employees here should know where Padre frequents or if he’s still here. There’s two she’s able to find right away; the bartender and a busboy. She starts with the bartender, walking herself over to a stool, he’s an older man with dark hair and a golden arm. He walks over to her once she’s sat, a smile bringing out the crows feet at the corners of his eyes.

“A new face, what can I get for you?”

“I’m actually trying to find someone,” she signs, “someone told me the local fixer, Padre, is a regular here.”

“Ah, he’s probably at his usual table upstairs, not sure he’s interested in taking on any new clients though.”

“I’ll see if we can figure something out.” She steps away from the bar and heads upstairs, its mostly vacant, making her task just a little bit easier.

Her gaze is drawn to an older man with sparsely any hair and age spots along his skin, a gold cross around his neck. A few men in tacky gold jewelry around him.

“Padre?” The AI modulator voice calls out and she sees the older man’s eyes land on her. His guards around him seem to tense, prepared for if she sends up being a threat.

“I’m not sure, I know you,” Padre comments, looking over her disheveled appearance. Being beaten and thrown in a dumpster doesn’t do much for your looks.

“You don’t, but I’m looking for a fixer, need help if you’re interested in hearing me out.”

“Come, sit.”

“Thank you, sir,” she signs before sliding into the booth seat across the table from him.

“How can I assist you, child?”

“So, a guy named Luke Sinclaire contracted me to smuggle corp cargo into the city, I go to meet up with him and he tricks me. Stole the cargo, sent my car to be scrapped, and had his gangoons drop me. I need help finding him so I can get the cargo, my car, and my dignity back. Maybe kill him too, depending on how I feel, but we’ll see.”

“You didn’t use a fixer, I take it?” He raises an eyebrow with the energy of a dad chiding a child for making a stupid mistake.

“No, I was desperate and it bit me in the ass, so I’m doing what I should have done in the first place.”

“And I’m to assume, you have no money with which to do this either?” He says, having read her like a book.

“I’m sorry to be asking favors the first time we meet and I don’t expect you to do this for nothing, of course, but I was wondering if we could work out an arrangement instead.”

“And what sort of arrangement would that be?”

“I’ll do a merc job for you, your choosing, I’ll take no cut of the profit; a completely free job in exchange for you helping me with this.”

“And how can I trust you to do this job well, I do not know you or your work.”

“Well, I’d do the job for you first, so if its crap you could not help me. I fully expect to get back what I put in, if I do quality work, you do it in return, I’m desperate here.”

“Come with me, Marcus, get the car,” he tells one of the bulky men who walks off.

Padre stands and follows behind Marcus, V follows suit as they leave down the stairs and out of the bar towards a dark little alleyway. Marcus pulls up a car and parks it for them. Once parked Marcus gets out and comes back to one of the backseat doors, Padre gets into the back on his own, Marcus opens the door for her. He silently beckons her in and she does what she’s asked, sliding onto the leather seat. Marcus shuts her door before going back around to the driver’s seat,

“Embers, pull up to the back where the ramp is,” Padre instructs Marcus of where to go.

And then the car pulls out onto the road. V fiddles with a curl of hair, fidgety and unsure of what to do, why they’re driving out away from the bar. Padre has a far away look in his eye.

“You’re new to Night City, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“And what is your name, I’m afraid I didn’t catch it earlier.”

“V.”

“V, I’ve lived in Heywood all my life, it’s roots are strong and watered by blood. Family is what pulls us through, no one is purely independent. The city is ecosystem, each individual playing a vital role that impacts those around them. The relationship between fixers and our mercenaries is an important one, not only is it mutual beneficial, but we keep each other safe. A lesson you’ve had to learn the hard way.”

“Can’t really argue with that…”

“People who-“

Padre pauses in his words looking out of the window and through it, V can see a car coming up alongside them. The car begins honking furiously at them. Nerves alight and chills slinking up her spine; she has a bad feeling about this. It has to be someone with a bone to pick with Padre.

“Shit!” Marcus curses, the first word she’s heard him say.

“Stop the car,” Padre says, with a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder.

“What’s this?” V signs, worrying speeding up her hands.

“Business, you carrying?”

“Yeah….” V checks her waistband and her revolver is gone because why did she think Sinclaire wouldn’t take her gun, “No.”

Padre blinks, surprised she’s sure, because who the fuck would be unarmed in Night City. Marcus pulls to a stop, the car once beside them pulls around to park in front of them and a man comes out. He’s dressed in what appear to be green fatigues with a bullet proof vest. As he comes close to V’s window, she sees his gold implants catching the neon lights.

“Sebastian Ibarra,” the man says in a low voice, as V’s window is rolled down by Marcus, “looks like it’s my lucky day.”

The stranger leans into the window, his left hand is carrying a gun and he casually puts it into the window. Both arms are metal in nature, but they look far from top shelf, at least from her glance.

“What do you want?” Padre asks him.

“To settle our biz, once and for all. Got an offer for you, Paddy, so listen up. Get the fuck out of Vista, pull your boys off the street! I’ll give you the Glenn, done deal. No more restless nights, see how generous I can be?”

A beat of silence and V gives a glance at Padre, he seems far from amused with the man’s bullshit.

“Well, Paddy?!”

V lurches at his impatient yell, she doesn’t need this wannabe soldier turned gangbanger fucking up her deal. Her right hand grabs the back of his neck, below the base of his skull and her left grabs the gun. She slams his head against the car roof, his forehead gushing blood at the impact, the shock and pain makes his grip loosen and allows her to steal his pistol before letting him go.

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses as he stumbles back, seeing stars and touching at his forehead. She aimed for the soft flesh just before his golden mohawked implant began, blood now steadily streaming from the wound, “you’ll fucking pay for that.”

She points his own pistol at him, cocking the gun, asking the silent question of if he intends to be shot today.

“It seems our conversation has come to a close,” Padre speaks calmly, but when she turns she can see the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Careful Padre, never know who’s got a barrel at your six,” he threatens with blood coating his face like paint, “you neither shitbucket!”

“Now, I’m armed,” V signs to Padre, as she watches the man climb back into his car, defeated for the moemnt.

“Marcus, please.”

The driver pulls out and away, getting them back on the road, as if the exchange had never happened. There’s a moment or two of silence, as V tucks her new gun into her waistband. If Padre takes her up on her offer, she may need it, plus you can generally never have enough firepower.

“Many people come through the city,” Padre speaks after a beat of silence, “little shits who’s spines go soft the moment they’re looking down the barrel of a gun. And sometimes you get the odd soul, one who can truly hold their own.”

“Who was that?” She asks, unable to help but smirk behind her mask at the compliment. That she’s one of the odd souls, different from those little shits, that she can hold her own. V is far from incompetent, even if some shitbird got the jump on her.

“No one important, he’ll be gone in a week’s time. Another will take his place.”

“The ecosystem will take him out?”

“People who don’t know their place, soon find themselves without one. He’ll pay for what he’s done. You… paid for your misdeeds, for your misstep, but you’re finding your place now and within it you may thrive.”

“You got my place in the ecosystem all figured out?”

“Here,” he hands her a screamsheet, a magazine with an animated ad for a car, high-end The Legend of Aerondight, “only four in Night City.”

“That so?” It looks slick, she guesses, though certainly not her aesthetic. Its that weird rich person sort of design where it’s oddly shaped and proportioned, perhaps to be aerodynamic. All sleek silver and black, no character to it. She’d take her Rattler over it any day.

“First belongs to the Rayfield regional direction, second belongs to mayor Rhyne, third to a rental service. And my client aims to be the fourth.”

“Klep the car and you’ll help me?”

“Yes, I have a contact who works inside the parking structure near Embers, a club the current owner likes to frequent. He’s there tonight as well. My contact will cut the security camera feed and open the security gate for you.”

“Current owner, anyone I need to worry about?”

“An Arasaka corpo,” Padre informs her, because apparently, she hasn’t fucked with Arasaka enough in the past day or so.

“So, just hotwire it or?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’s hotwired a car, but fancy ones like this usually have a more complicated security system. Usually takes more than a knife and luck, which is her usual method.

“Not quite,” Padre pulls a little gadget, a silver and black device that he hands to her, “this should work like a key for the car, matches the ones used by Rayfield tech. Should open the lock and bypass identity authorization.”

“That sounds convenient…” Too fucking convenient, she resists adding.

“Kabuki has some excellent tech workers, but I won’t lie, it is a risk. I assume one you’re willing to take?”

“Got it, I’ll get the car.”

“Marcus, pull up here,” Padre tells the driver and they come to a stop, “you can jump down below, and before you go, take this V.”

He hands her a card, marked with his name and phone number, golden in color with a sword surrounded by roses. She rubs her thumb over the embossment, glad for her first contact within the city. Connections help.

“Your number?” She points out the obvious, not sure what else to say.

“Bring the car back to El Coyote Cujo and call me when you arrive, if all goes well, I’ll have your intel by then. And, I may just call on you for work down the line.”

“Understood, I’m off then.”

“Go with God, V.”

The guardrail drags along the side of the highway but there’s a breakage where it allows her enough space to easily jump over. Peering over it leads to an alley way, a closed dumpster just below. She hops over, dropping down onto the dumpster, she intends on last night being her last trash nap, so she’s more than a little thankful for it being closed. She hears a civilian let out a little exclamation but pays no mind as she jumps down onto the pavement. A quick walk down a graffitied alleway leads her to yellow road signs cutting across an open structure. Glowing vending machines beckon her to spend ennies she doesn’t have on energy drinks and burritos, a turn past them brings her to an elevator.

Slick glinting silver encompasses her as she steps into the alleyway; impressively clean compared to the absolute grime of the city. Likely to impress any corpos who come this way to get their cars. A quick tap of a button and the doors shut, elevator rattling as it descends down to the garage.

A beat of silence and the elevator opens up to a hallway; black, gunmetal gray, and teal accents. The wall declares which sector she’s in and an arrow on the far wall tells her where to turn, as if there were anywhere else to go. The turn around the corner puts her directly in front of two large black double doors; PARKING over them in clear bold lettering.

They slide open when she gets close and open up to the large parking garage, lights coming on as she sees all the slick fancy corpo cars. Sleek blacks and eye popping reds, none with any taste for design if you ask her. But nomads and corpos have...different aesthetics.

“Eh, something I can help you with?” A male voice rings out, bringing her attention to the little station next to the blocked off exit for cars. The contact, she presumes. She comes over to his open window, the man dressed in uniform.

“Padre sent me…” she signs, keeping things vague just in case this person has no idea why she’s here.

“Gotcha,” he hits a button, “cameras are blind, you got twenty minutes.”

She nods and goes looking through the cars, it’s the glow of neon that brings her to it. A parking spot marked off in the vivid blue glowing lights, they frame the Rayfield, and spell VIP on the wall behind it.

Time to test the tech, she holds the device next to the door and presses its button, a blue light flashing. And then the Rayfield’s door opens, sliding back and up in one fluid motion, exposing the deep burgundy leather seats. Shit may actually be going right for once.

She climbs into the driver’s seat, feeling wholly out of place in the plush designed car. The seat automatically adjusts to accommodate her, no doubt shorter than the owner, and the blacked-out windshield and window turn to crystalline clear glass. All that’s left is bringing the baby back to the bar and then she can get her intel on Sinclaire.

A red caution symbol flashes in the windshield and her body tenses; a bad feeling creeping in. No, her luck can’t be running out already.

Then the door opens and there’s a gun in her face.

“Get the fuck out!” A Mexican accented voice yells out.

If there is a god, he personally hates her, there is no other explanation, and she will fist fight him for his shenanigans. She looks up at the man standing before her, barrel at her forehead. He’s leaning down against the car, not unlike how the sheriff did to intimidate her back in Yucca. However, unlike the sheriff, this guy has the build to pull it off. He’s easily over a foot taller than her and wider than most doorway, all pure muscle with dark hair in a top knot, gold cybernetics adoring his face. She puts her hands up in mock surrender for a moment.

“Nothing personal, jaina, just biz.”

V goes to gun it, to stomp her foot down on the gas, but before she can the man has the back of her hoodie and is unceremoniously ripping her out of the vehicle.

“You fuckin’ deaf, chica, fuck out of the car, now!” He’s able to manhandle and pack her around like it’s nothing, like carrying a housecat.

She grabs the hand on her hood and digs her fingernails in, swinging her foot out to kick him while her other hand goes for her gun.

Then there’s a steady rev of engines, tires squealing and growing ever closer. Confusion coloring her assailant’s face and he drops her, looking around.

“The fuck…”

He starts to say and then there’s two police cars rushing into the parking lot, skidding to stops in front of them. And its fucking overkill, if she rang 911 because she was shot, they’d maybe send an officer out in three weeks. One fucking corpo has someone break into his car and it’s the end of the universe, need a full brigade.

The headlights of the cruises are blindingly bright and she struggles to adjust; putting her hands up as police officers come out with guns at the ready. It’s a car for fucks sake.

“Don’t move!”

Her attacker carefully slides his gun across the cement, to show he’s not a threat and maybe she’d consider doing the same if she cared; but she doesn’t.

“You’re under arrest!”

“Stay where you are!”

The police continue barking orders, as if the two hadn’t piece together what was happening or what was being asked of them. They’re not stupid.

“Hands where I can see them, nice and slow!”

He can already see them, why must they go through the rigamarole. She doesn’t have time for this shit.

“On the ground motherfuckers, right now!”

V is able to watch for a second, as a female cop cuffs and pushes the big guy onto the ground. Then in the next second she’s down there too, but they don’t cuff her like they do him. The officer only holds her hands down to the pavement, maybe they think because she’s smaller they don’t need the cuffs, at least not yet.

“Jackie Welles, my old pal from the hood,” a voice rings out, “See you haven’t grown an ounce wiser.”

“Hey,” big guy, apparently Jackie, responds and she shifts her head against the pavement to see him being held down in addition to the cuffs, “argh, Detective Stints, been a while, huh?”

“Inspector Stints,” the man responds now stepping out where he can be seen in front of the bright lights, he picks up the gun Jackie put down.

“Same shit,” Jackie says with a laugh.

“But you, you’re new,” Stints comments as he walks over and crouches down in front of her, looking over her face.

He waits, anticipating her to say something, but she talks with her hands and they’re currently pinned behind her back. And sure she possesses the technical ability to speak, her vocal chords do function. But she doesn’t, unless she’s alone or highly emotional. She used to talk to her mom, sister, and Ava…but those days are gone.

“Spit it out? Cat got your tongue?” Stints taunts and she still remains silent.

“Think her voicebox might be broken, Stints,” Jackie comments, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Pfft, probably just another piece of Heywood trash, another termite who’ll live and die here. Just like you Welles.”

“Fuck off, just tell us what you got planned,” Jackie grumbles.

“Gonna be booked, gonna do a stint, heh, get it?” He says with a grin.

“C’mon Stints, cut us a break, huh? You lock us up, we’ll just jerk off till trial and then what?”

She has no intention on jerking off anywhere, but alright.

“Worst case,” Jackie continues, “we get a few months, standing room only nowadays. In el bote. Hell, we’ll probably be out early.”

“These the thieves? Ordinary street trash,” a heavily accented voice comments, a Japanese man in a shimmery golden colored vest comes walking over.

“Shit, he’s here,” Inspector Stints groans before standing, “got them in custody Mr. Fujioka. We’ll be taking them, now.”

“It’s a waste of effort, I have no time to testify or play at an investigation.”

“Suggesting we let ‘em go, sir?”

“I��m suggesting you throw them in the sea; cuffed, legs broken, so this trash doesn’t float.”

And with that the man starts to walk away, making his way back to the club, she’s sure, continuing his night of debauchery as if he hadn’t ordered the murder of two strangers just because he could, because he didn’t have time for a trial. And god, she knows she probably has no room to judge anyone else’s morals, but just fuck corpos.

“You heard him,” the inspector says, because corpo cash pays his salary, she’s sure.

“Fuuuuck….” Jackie curses as they start to drag him up on his feet by the cuffed hands and she her own arms are wrenched back and cuffed.

V gets her feet back under her, moving with the pull as they manhandle her off the ground, she kicks back at the officer behind her. Her foot connects with their calf, causing them grunt out in pain as they’re knocked off balance loosing their grip on her wrists. She jumps as high as she can and brings her cuffed hands under her feet to her front.

Jackie follows suit, kicking the officer off of him, but with his size it knocks them flat on their ass. He shoulder checks another pig as V makes a dive for the Rayfield, it’s door still open amongst this chaos. She lands herself in the drivers seat and hits the ignition.

“Stop resisting!” Officers yell, fingers on the trigger, and no, that’s not happening.

“Wait up, chica!” Jackie yells out and she hits the button to open the passenger side door; he’s an asshole, but she’s not leaving him to be thrown in the fucking ocean.

He throws himself down in the passenger side and she guns it, doors shutting on each side as she takes the turn out the parking exit. She watches from the corner of her eye as Jackie, who’s barely able to fit in the bougie car, brings his cuffed hands down as low as he can. He grunts and curses, not quite as flexible as she is. With effort and twisting, he’s able to get the chain of the cuffs under his foot and then he stomps down while yanking his hands up. The little chain doesn’t stand a chance, breaking into pieces and pinging about the interior as it does so.

“Much better,” Jackie comments, looking at his wrists which now just have the manacles of the cuffs.

She rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back on the road and she expects to see sirens chasing after them, but it never happens. Are the cops not chasing them? They should be chasing them? Is she not getting in her second high speed chase since coming here?

“Honestly,” Jackie starts to talk again, he talks a lot, “I was just gonna let Stints free us, but I like the way you think, this way we get the Rayfield too.”

“What?” She takes a hand off the wheel to sign.

“Oh shit, you’re actually….my bad…” He awkwardly apologizes for asking if she was deaf earlier because, yes, yes she is.

“What do you mean, free us?”

“Stints is a softie as far as pigs go, got Heywood in his blood, would never throw us in the fuckin’ ocean cause some corpo said. And, you can slow down, he won’t chase us, chica.”

“Oh…okay,” she signs, pulling up to a curb, something else to take care of.

“We stopping here?”

“You are,” she signs before pulling her gun out and pointing it at him, signing with her other hand, “get out of the car.”

“Really, chica?” He rolls his eyes, like he didn’t pull this shit on her five minutes ago.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I knew Stints was a softie, I got a job to finish, get out.”

“A fixer line this up for you?”

“Yeah…”

“Padre?”

“Yeah…are you gonna get out of the car or…?”

“Listen, I was gonna klep the car and then find a fixer to sell it for me, but if you already got Padre involved, we’ll go halfsies.”

“You pointed a gun at me!”

“You’re pointing a gun at me, right now!”

“You did it first!”

And he laughs and she does too, because they sound like children bickering over who pushed who on the playground. Its dumb and ridiculous and why does she like him? His smile is warm and kind, something about him, welcoming. She drops the gun, tucking it back in her waistband. She press her hand under her mask, trying to suppress her giggles. The tension that’s been clinging to her has snapped. Her body feels lighter, like she can breathe a bit better. She closes the passenger side door, he may be chill, or she’s just easily charmed. But, she’s still going to fuck with him, just a little.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go halfsies.”

“See, now you’re making sense,” he grins as they pull out back onto the road, “Jackie Welles.”

“V…it’s…nice to meet you? I think?”

“Heh, not from around here, right?”

“Nah, but, from the sounds of it you’re a local.”

“Heywood in my veins, chica, where we meeting Padre?”

“El Coyote Cujo.”

“Of course.”

“You know the place?”

“I’ve heard of it,” he says, grinning wide, a joke she’s clearly not in on, “Ah, I got a good feeling about this.”

“About what?”

“Us, you and me got chemistry.”

“Do we now?”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you feel it too, heard that laugh.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she teases as she pulls into the El Coyote Cujo parking lot, pulling the slick corpo car into a spot, “got a phone on you?”

“You don’t?”

“I literally have lost everything I own, alright? Call Padre and put it on speaker.”

“Fine, fine,” Jackie gets out his phone and calls Padre, phone in one hand and the other stretched across the back of the seats.

“Jackie? To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Here with your newest find, V, we got the Rayfield.”

“You helped her out?”

“Well…”

“He pointed a gun at me and nearly had me thrown in the ocean.”

“Seems like I have a car and a story waiting on me, I’ll be there shortly.”

A pain aches in V’s head, migraine spreading across her temple as Jackie hangs up. She rolls the car window down, allowing the chill of the winter night seep in, hoping the fresh air will ease her pain. V wants a shower, there’s still blood in her hair and she’s sure she still smells like trash. Though, no one’s been cruel enough to point it out. But, she has no idea where she could grab a shower. Why the fuck does her head hurt so much? The pain a steady throb across her entire head. She pinches the bridge of her nose, it didn’t even ache this much when she first came too in the dumpster.

“You alright V?”

“Head hurts,” she signs, before turning off her hearing aids, hoping that shutting out the city sounds will help.

“When’s the last time you ate, chica?” Jackie says, making sure to stay in her eye line as he leans over the middle console, though his biceps nearly touch her even when he isn’t. Her mask reading his lips to give him subtitles. .

When was the last time she ate? She didn’t eat all day because she was in a dumpster passed out. The day before was the smuggle run and she didn’t eat before she left Yucca.

“Two days ago.”

“Fuckin’ for real, no wonder your head’s wonky, once we finish the deal we’ll get some grub.”

“What made you think that was why?”

“Ah, my mama gets those migraines when she stops eating from stress, Vik and me keep telling her to take care of herself, but she’s too busy taking care of everyone else.”

“You and your mom close?” V can’t help but ask, thinking about her own mother for a moment.

“Oh yeah, family’s important, gotta have people you can turn to out here.”

“Yeah…”

“What-”

Headlights shine in through the back glass of the Rayfield, bring their attention to Padre pulling into the parking lot. His arrival ending whatever question Jackie was about to ask, which may be for the best. She’s not ready to answer questions about family. Not when her head is throbbing, she’s filthy, and her stomach is empty. Padre’s driver comes to a stop and they see Padre gets out of the back. V turns her hearing aids back on, knowing it will make the conversation flow easier as her and Jackie get out of the Rayfield. Her arms collecting goosebumps from the air.

“Jackie, it’s nice to see you again, how have you been?” He greets Jackie warmly

“Ehhh, can’t complain, same old same old, making new friends,” he says with a grin, nodding his head towards V.

“Never can have too many of those. It’s always nice to chat once business is done.”

One of Padre’s bodyguards has already climbed into the driver’s seat of the Rayfield. Enging revving up and then fading off into the night as he leaves. Officially finishing up their business.

“Uh,” Jackie raises an eyebrow, “you getting senile on me, Padre, this is usually the part where eddies change hands.”

V’s smirking and trying not to laugh behind her mask. Padre gives a look at V’s direction and she looks down at the ground, pursing her lips so she doesn’t laugh.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“Ah,” Jackie nods, like he gets it, “no worries, V agreed to go halfsie with me on the Rayfield gig.”

“Halfsies?” Padre raises an eyebrow, smiling at V, he seems to find her joke at least a little funny. V can’t help the giggle that spills out.

“Am I missing the joke here?”

“Well, I’m afraid, this was an unpaid job for V here.”

“What?” Jackie shoots her a sharp look, disbelief coloring his expression.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she taunts.

“Fuck you!”

She bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as she cackles behind her mask, the sound echoing strangely through it. But, she can’t stop.

“You stole a million eddie car for free!? The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“No, no,” she furiously signs, “I needed info.”

“Speaking of which, I have your intel here,” Padre says, handing her a shard.

“Give me a moment, my lungs hurt.”

“I’m glad you're entertained, that info better make you a billionaire.”

“Nah, personal shit,” she collects herself, “thanks, Padre, it means a lot.”

“You’re a good kid, make him pay, V.”

“Oh, I will,” V confirms, slotting the shard into a little opening on her mask, info displaying across it.

The name of a chopshop that rumors say had a nomad vehicle come in, her Rattler no doubt. Sinclaire’s address and regular hang outs, exactly what she needs. Hopefully, he hasn’t had time to sell the cargo yet. If so, she’ll axe him and klep all his shit.

“What happened?” Jackie asks.

“Well,” she signs, before taking the shard out, “Sinclaire contracted me to transport some cargo, no fixer, so he fucked me over the second he got a chance. Bashed me over the head, threw me in a dumpster, scrapped all my shit, and took off with the cargo.”

“So, that’s what that smell is?”

“I will throw you,” she threatens, but she’s rolling her eyes and smiling.

“I’d love to see you try, chica.”

“The chop shop won’t be open until morning and it’s late. It’s up to you, but I’d recommend resting for the night.”

“Yeah…” She signs, but she can’t help the slight pout. She has no money, no clothes, no food, no shelter. She’ll be sleeping on a bench or something tonight, not much rest.

“You did good work V,” Padre pats her shoulder as he leaves,” I’m sure I’ll have more jobs for you in the future, paying ones, of course.”

“Thanks again, Padre.”

She rubs a hand down her face, migraine still thumping around in her head. Between not eating and having her hearing aids in all day, her head feels on the verge of exploding.

“So, what’s the plan, jaina?”

“My plan, why do you wanna know my plan?”

“Because, you and I both know you’re up shit creek without a paddle here, V. No home, no family, no one to turn to. Night City ain’t a place that will let you get by on your own. Need people you can turn to, if you wanna survive.”

“And what, you wanna be my friend?” She raises an eyebrow, taken aback by just how kind and friendly he’s really been.

“Told you already, we got chemistry,” he grins again and it makes her smile, “be a crying shame to waste it.”

“Okay, friend, what do we do now?”

“You like chili?

“As a concept, sure.”

“Settled then, get you a hot meal, change of clothes, a shower ‘cause you fuckin’ need it, and crash with me tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“And tomorrow, we teach that pendejo a lesson, sound good?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They’re all grins and smiles as they leave the parking lot, knocking shoulders together as they go, walking side by side down the neon lit streets. And she can feel it returning, that little buzz of hope she had in her chest when she first came here, the one she thought was beaten out of her by Sinclaire’s goons, it’s back and brighter than ever. Though not half as bright as Jackie’s smile as they turn a corner towards his mother’s house.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #c2077 #female v #fem v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #can you feel the sun

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breakbcnes · 2 years ago

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He wasn't entirely sure she felt the same, the tiptoeing he did with her seemed almost like a dance between both of them. Sometimes he'd think about crossing that line when she leaned in close or they had some time alone to himself and yet he never did. The fear he was thinking he was seeing her be possibly interested was all in his head and not actually there. Those worries stopped him every time and so he never did. Instead they played their game and teased and joked, that was that. Hell, he enjoyed having her around despite how much he knew it hurt her at times. Harwin was there to make sure she was okay through it all and he knew that being away from fighting was hard and it's why he kept giving her tickets and wanting her there. In some ways Harwin hoped it helped her feel better about not being able to fight. Not that he would bring it up to her exactly, that wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss unless she was ready for it.

So instead they continue to play their little game that made his trainer constantly roll his eyes. Harwin catches it when they step towards him to do what minimal medical treatment was needed. Just clean up his cuts and cover them in butterfly sutures. But it doesn't stop him from keeping his attention on her, making his eyebrows arch before his trainer chastises him for doing so. "Oh?" He can't help but say in reply. "I didn't know that was an option and the way to get you to like it." Harwin replies, unable to help himself the same way she seemed to be able to say just that. Though at this point, he can see his trainer's reaction, but even then he's unable to tell if it was a tease for the words or something she meant. Something he felt with his own words. No doubt the other knew for himself how dumb they were, skating that thin line and never crossing it when they so clearly had feelings for each other. But he wasn't going to say anything, he would let Harwin figure that out on his own.

However, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing her smile like that. If he had known accepting her invitation to cook for him would make her respond like that? Harwin would have accepted that long ago. A chuckle leaves him as he nods. "Fair enough, you're that confident then I trust what you pick. And don't worry, I won't stink when I get to your place." He lifts his head up slightly to give her the room to kiss his cheek before watching her leave. The trainers easily finish patching him up and then he's off to shower to finish the rest. He would be feeling the effects of the fight later and mostly tomorrow. That was a then problem, for now he was going to be driving to her place. It didn't take him much longer, finding himself standing outside her door and knocking in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top to show off his sleeves. Anything to be comfortable in after the fight he had. When the door finally opens, he greets her with a warm smile before stepping inside.

Blue-green eyes take in his surroundings as he follows her into the kitchen before landing back on her and shrugging. "Well, couldn't keep you waiting. I think that would be a little rude of me." The beer was slightly unexpected but he gladly took it with a grin and lifted it in a cheering motion before taking a sip from the cold bottle. "Thank you for that." He says after placing it back on the counter. He stays on the opposite side of the island, his hand wrapped around the bottle as he watches her move about the kitchen. "I do like Greek food, so I'm definitely looking forward to this. Smells great, honestly." He answers before shaking his head. "No not yet, there are some talks for a couple people but I'm closer to the belt so I'll take that for now." His gaze looks her over, watching her move, noticing the scars from that night and how much he wished he could have been there for her. And then he looks over towards the tattoo, tracing it up her body before he brings the bottle back to his lips and takes a long sip. "Are you planning to be there for that fight? That why you're asking?"

she was a glutton for punishment, as not only was she dancing along an invisible line with harwin, that was fuelled with tension and a constant craving that often left paynes hands shaking from the force of not doing what she wanted too, but she was also surrounding herself, with a world she no longer was involved in ─── even when she was at harwins fights, it was easy to see the way ufc ignored her. despite the fact she had won the bantamweight belt at one time. okay so her attack came that very night, and now she could no longer fight, but the company acted like she was a stranger. [ a useless relic. ] it hurt but still she surrounded herself with it, fought every day to get back in the ring, as despite it hurting, it was also the spiteful motivation that she needed to do just that. to become better than them all, and fight once more.

eyes roll softly, as she moves to lean against the wall, watching the trainers move closer. and she becomes highly aware of the new guy leaning in the doorway, watching, learning. and yet his eyes were on payne’s throat, where the scar sat showing she’d had her throat slit and her life nearly taken from her, at her brothers hands ─── she ignores the looks from the youngster, and instead focuses back on harwin and arches a eyebrow towards him. ❝ only time your beard would get that, is when it’s giving me pleasure, until then it’s a don’t mind. ❞ her words are instant. leaving her pierced lips before she even comprehends what she’s saying. and she isn’t blind, she catches his trainers smirk, but luckily she manages to keep her blush down. and instead idly messes with the rings on her tattooed fingers, as she berates herself internally. as yeah she was playing with fire with harwin, but lord she’d just all but, thrown herself into the flames.

his movement, has hazel hues locking back on him and she’s grinning, as he finally concedes to the bugging she’d been doing for weeks. to let her actually cook, which was something she enjoyed doing, especially for those she cared for. her mind momentarily running over food options quickly, whilst focusing back on him ─── sometimes having adhd was a blessing, in how it allowed her to procrastinate over multiple things. ❝ nope chef decides what’s getting cooked. and you can meet me at mine, as lord do you stink. ❞ her nose wrinkles in a tease, before she’s leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, something that was usual for her, her parting action, before tattooed fingers are grasping her car keys and slipping from the room. her mind now focused on something else, even if she’s still berating her earlier, unintentional verbal slip.

30 minutes later, found her moving around the large expanse known as her kitchen with ease. she’d gotten changed the moment she stepped foot in her apartment, taking off her make up, throwing her long hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, as well as slipping into an open backed tank top, which eased the rubbing sensation of clothes on her scars, and shorts also decorated her long legs, showing off the tattoo that rode her left thigh and butt. which showed how comfortable she was, in her own space, as normally she was at least somewhat covered. but not in her own space ─── hearing the knock at her door, she walks over, pulls it open and grins as she sees harwin in the entrance. moving to let his huge frame in, she moves back towards the kitchen ❝ you’ve made good time, just gotten started really. ❞ she says with a smile before stepping around the island, opening the fridge, she grabs one of the beers that was inside, ones she kept for friends given she didn’t drink anymore. placing it before him, before grabbing the knife on the side and chopping the ingredients before her with practised ease. ❝ Hope you don’t mind greek cuisine. also did you find out who you’re fighting next ?? ❞ the ease she delivers the questions ─── whilst her hands don’t stray once from what she was doing, showed how many times she had cooked the specific meal she was preparing. humming to the song on the radio, she finishes what she’s doing before grabbing the steak, her attention torn in different ways, but still focused entirely on harwin sitting behind her.

#hellsurvivr #🗡️ — вlood and ѕweaт тυrn тo gold ╲ ( verѕe 11 )#🗡️— υnwaverιng loyalтy ╲ ( qυeυe )

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dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years ago

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my beloved morgy, good evening!! it's been a little bit, no? schoolwork has been running rampant and health issues are racking up, so i have unfortunately been away for a bit, not to mention i'll have to look for work soon due to financial issues,, life is quite hectic now! no matter what though, i always look forward to coming back here, talking to you has become one of my favorite things in the world!! 💕💌💫 (1/9)

"and so much has happened now, hm? with that in mind, please know that what i'm about to say isn't just mere kindness, and that i actually believe it wholeheartedly,, i think you are absolutely stunning!!! of course i got the notification during algebra of all classes,, but oh my goodness darling!!!! i'm so happy you somehow gained enough confidence to do that!! (2/9)

i was paranoid after my initial face reveal, but after getting so many nice responses before, i knew it would go just as smoothly for you 💓 ahhhh i just can't get over it at all, you're so pretty!!! i smiled a lot, and then my professor must've noticed, because he said "abby... abby... ABBY! are you ok?? you're face is so red, do you have a fever???" (3/9)

of course i dismissed it, but then to make matters worse, quinn called me during class about it as you saw already,, i swear, she just loves to torture me hm? 😖😖 but really, you are gorgeous, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, ok?? 💘 oh, and i must thank everyone for being so patient and kind during my absence!! your well wishes mean a lot to me! most people tend to get very frustrated with me, so i'm beyond glad that i can get a break from that type of treatment!! (4/9̶ 10)

it's been very difficult so far trying to balance school and my own health, so i've been extremely occupied as of late,, but when things settle down and i figure things out, i should be more active again! (it's what i hope for! writing you and seeing everyone is one of the things i actually enjoy anyway!!! 🌠) and all of those picrews and that drawing?? lovely as always!! (5/10)

aside from stressful school days and other events, today, quinn and our friend chloe surprised me by showing up to my house after school and whisking me off to this lovely asian market in the city! it was unusually cold, so quinn being the overly protective person they are, forced me to take their coat,, ahhh i felt so bad, the breeze was so chilly!! but sadly, the north really does get cold when the fall starts to hit hehe (6/10)

we took the metro over and messed around in our seats a bit,, it was nice and quiet for once! we ended up having a great time, getting dinner, buying lots of strange snacks, and eating different cakes at this quaint café, it was such a nice break from everything not-so-good that has been happening lately!! ✨ (7/10)

and luckily, i get to actually have a good time this weekend!!! my older brother is coming home to visit! despite college being so busy for him, he told me that he still checks in here at the end of every week haha, i'm surprised he even manages to do that with his workload 😖 he told me we're gonna go and get lunch together, so i'm really excited for that,, i miss him lots! ❤ (8/10)

so much has happened that i can't even keep track of it,, there's so much to talk about, it's crazy! i wish school could lighten up a bit so i could be here more, after all, i do truly enjoy my time here!! but i'm overjoyed that i get to return tonight despite my heavy workload,, it's always a rare pleasure to be able to talk to you dolcezza!!! hopefully i can be back soon by friday or so,, i'll be aiming for it 💗 (9/10

thank you guys for all of the support throughout these chaotic months, i never expected to meet such an amazing person and become so loved by a bunch of people i never met- you've all gone beyond my wildest expectations with how unbelievably kind you are to me! as always thank you, i love you all beyond words 💕 with love from the moon & back, your waifu xoxo 💖💖💖 ps: morgy you really do know how to pull at my heartstrings!! i better see no more of you doubting yourself ever again 😘 (10/10)"

THE LEGEND HAS R E T U R N E T H ONCE MORE 😳🤚✨ honestly darling ur reaction was quite literally priceless and Quinn only made this entire thing better ngl jdhdhwhd i almost cant believe me doing some dumb face reveal caused it either but....i aint complaining at all quite the contrary acc👁️👁️

I'd still insist ur bein way too kind but i'll thank u anyway for za compliments (i can only say the same regarding u dear👁️✨) dbqhshxkaha also a trip to za asian market sounds lit ngl me and the squad always go to this k mart thats on the way to our school and they have banging foods 😩✊

Now i can 100% relate to everything u said esp the school part....im exhausted outta my mind (in fact i deadass fell asleep while on zoom today during class djsbs) bc i still lowkey cant fall asleep in time at night and i have to get up early everyday so its like💀💀💀💀 i mostly catch up on schleep in the afternoon but its still a wack schedule and i barely have time to do other stuff let alone write which bothers me alot ngl....as for urself im glad u got to have some quality time w ur mates and also that ur legend of a bro is finally visiting (za clown army e a a g er l y awaiting his return)

I agree also that things have been movin fast like h e l l its already almost october tf🗿🗿 and i also hope ur fine health wise too bc ik all too well how school and an erratic schedule can throw ur entire body off and worsen ur immune system n all of dat shiz💀

Either way im glad u popped in again (as always my inbox been bombarded with questions regarding ur whereabouts djshdjdk) and may we speak of shows and anime again bc a bitch had finished bsd yesterday and im l i v i n😳😳😳

#the confessional #guess i'll just have to continue snatchin ur wig w my yoonbum/levi lookin ass🤩🤩

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jeksburydigital · 6 years ago

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Circus/Freak show AU Part 1

Charlie beamed and spun in a circle, her arms outstretched. Maxwell smiled softly, glad she was enjoying herself.

"Oh, Maxie, it reminds me of our first show!" She chirped as she motioned at the large carnival around them. Looking around, he had to admit it really did. The two had met at the circus, both performing magic tricks, and a majority of their first night working there had been spent exploring and trying to catch each other's eye. It had been at least eight years since then, the two now happily married and extremely successful in the magic industry, performing on big stages in packed theatres. It was nice to be able to take her on a date like this, away from the screaming fans and busy schedules. "Maxie, look!" Charlie's bubbling laughter snapped him out of his thoughts. The Vietnamese woman was pointing towards a large, long tent with a sign reading 'Sir Machavelli's House of Monsters, Beasts, and Freaks'. Maxwell couldn't help but smile; their first kiss had happened in one of these freak show attractions, so of course Charlie would be excited to go inside.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, laughing with him as he stumbled over his own gangly legs. The inside was filled with what he expected; fish tails sewn on dead monkeys, cheap taxidermy, and other such obvious hoaxes, though it was still fun to point and snicker quietly to themselves. As they reached the end of the long 'hallway' they noticed a man in a brightly striped suit standing on a circular stage with a large curtain. A small crowd was gathered around him, and Charlie eagerly rushed over.

"Ladies and gents, what we have here is a bonefied monster straight from the depths of your nightmares!" The man, who Maxwell assumed was 'Sir Machavelli', proclaimed to the crowd. "What you are about to see may very well stop your heart! For those of you with with a weak mind or stomach, it is advised you look away now. Behold, the horrifying... Arachnide!!" He yanked back the curtain to reveal a tall cylindrical cage, and Maxwell couldn't help the shudder that rolled down his spine. A performer hung from a fake tree, wrapped up in a silvery rope or wire of some sort. The person inside was very convincing, he'd give them that. He couldn't seem to find the seams on their extra limbs, and the way their additional eyes gazed at the crowd, unblinking, was unnerving indeed. He was impressed.

The audience shrank back with disgusted gasps, parents pulling their children closer on instinct. Even Charlie took a step back, eyes wide with a mixture of shock, awe, and the slightest trace of fear. Maxwell, to the surprise of both the showman and the crowd, stepped closer, enamoured by the craftsmanship of the costume. He leaned against the polished wood if the stage, staring up at the actor. Eight eyes stared back, the two human ones (the real ones, he reminded himself) filled with curiosity and confusion. They began to lower themself, still upside down, the string seemingly coming from their mouth. Maxwell felt a spike of irritation at that; no performance was worth an actors health, and he doubted that keeping all that material hidden in their jaw was comfortable. Their faces were level with one another now, and Maxwell found himself confused at the genuine look of awe on the other's face. Their plush lips were parted slightly, the ends of thin fangs peeking out, and a set of spindly fingers began clutched the bars of the cage. Another hand slowly crept forward, hesitant, reaching between the bars. The younger person's fingers had just barely grazed Maxwell's cheek when a thick wooden pole was shoved between the bars, hitting the performer in the face. Maxwell felt sick at the sight of blood oozing from their nose, the actor now hanging limply from the wires, clearly disoriented by the hits.

"You've taken this act too far!" Maxwell shouted, enraged. Charlie was quickly at his side, looking just as angry, if not more. She had always been protective of the younger employees during their time at the circus, and she had clearly kept that attitude. "I want to speak to your employer; your treatment of this actor is inexcusable!!" By now the other members of the audience were filing out, disgust on their faces as they pieced together that an actor had just been harmed for a stunt. Machavelli glared heatedly at Maxwell and Charlie, though his eyes filled with panic as he leapt between them and the cage, cutting off Charlie attempts to reach out to the young performer.

"You don't understand what you're dealing with here!" He seethed. Charlie moved to get around him only to be stopped once more, and Maxwell felt a surge of pride as he noticed her discreetly snag the keys from the man's belt. "I don't have time for this!" He griped, pulling the curtains closed. "I'm going on break. I doubt I'll get any more customers with the scene you just made." He stormed off, grumbling about idiotic tourists getting too close to the stage. As soon as he'd gone, Charlie hopped up onto the stage, pulling back the curtains once more. The actor was still hanging upside down, staring at the two unblinking, eyes wide and almost hopeful. Charlie jingled the keys with a triumphant smirk before unlocking the door. She pulled it open and stepped inside, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe the blood off the other's face. She clicked her tongue in disappointment as she cleaned their face, her brows knitting together in confusion as she noticed the lack of red. When it smeared, the substance was actually revealed to be a dark purple. She paused, looking at where the six arms connected, at the eyes, and by the time her pulse had quickened in realization, the creature had already dropped fully to the floor, tilting it's head at her inquistively.

"Max," She breathed, frozen in shock. Maxwell, oblivious to the reasoning behind her reaction, approached them, believing the 'actor' to be more injured than originally thought. It didn't take him long to come to the same conclusion as Charlie as soon as he got a better look at the thing crouched on the floor of the cage.

"We need to leave," He choked out after a few tense seconds of silence, hoisting Charlie to her feet. He didn't hesitate to then scoop up the creature, trying not to focus on the disturbing feeling of six hands clutching desperately at his shirt. Charlie lifted the cloth of the tent walls and peered outside. Upon seeing no one, she motioned for Maxwell to follow her. From there, it was a tense journey back to their car, having to avoid staff and visitors alike. Thankfully the parking lot was empty, everyone already enjoying the shows and games out on the massive grassy field. Maxwell hurriedly placed the being in the backseat, climbing in beside it as Charlie got in the driver's seat. She started driving almost immediately, bareky giving Maxwell anytime to clip not only his seatbelt, but the newly freed Arachnide's as well.

As Charlie pulled out onto the highway, the fact that they had a legitimate spider human in their car sank in. It was hard for Maxwell to be afraid when there were three sets of hands grabbing onto his arm, the Arachnide looking around wide-eyed, obviously having very rarely, if ever, left their cage. They (She?? The thing had a rather feminine form, but he couldn't be sure) kept cautiously letting go of Maxwell's at, with two or three of their hands to gently run their fingers over every surface they could, only to quickly draw back and return to clinging to Maxwell like a lost child. It was a tense two hour drive back to their house, fear of being caught gripping their hearts every time they stopped for gas. As soon as they pulled into their garage, Maxwell rushed their new acquaintance inside, setting them down on the sofa and quickly backing away, nervous. The creature looked around, made a distressed chittering noise, and scurried over to the corner of the room farthest from Charlie and Maxwell. They stuck their thin fingers into their mouth and pulled out what Maxwell now realized was a strand of spider silk. They stuck it to the wall, then added another, and Maxwell wondered dazedly if the rapidly forming web would peel the paint. He turned to make eye contact with Charlie, both equally stunned by their impromptu rescue mission, let out a slight wheeze coupled with a trembling smile, and promptly fell to the floor unconscious.

#don't starve #modern au #spider wes #charlie #maxwell carter #wes #maxlie #tw: mild violence #writing

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mind-reader1 · 6 years ago

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Queen of Hearts (Ch.21)

Drake x MC (Emma Barnes)

TRR AU: What would happen if Emma loved Drake but had to marry Liam?

Catch up here

Warnings: NSFW, maybe some cursing? Honestly I don’t remember

Note: I just found out my grandpa has cancer and won’t be doing treatment. In addition to that, I’ve just got a lot of shit going on right now, things are scheduled to post every Tuesday/Thursday and Saturday, but I don’t know how much I’ll be on here. Please be patient with me. If I don’t interact with you or post or comment or whatever, I promise I’m not ignoring you.

Word Count: 2,990

Summary: Worst nightmares come to life for one of our poor babies, I’m not cruel enough to put you through two funerals so there’s only one.

Chapter 21: Mirrors - Justin Timberlake

'Cause I don't wanna lose you now

I'm looking right at the other half of me

The vacancy that sat in my heart

Is a space that now you hold

Show me how to fight for now

And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy

Coming back into you once I figured it out

You were right here all along

It's like you're my mirror

My mirror staring back at me

I couldn't get any bigger

With anyone else beside of me

And now it's clear as this promise

That we're making two reflections into one

'Cause it's like you're my mirror

My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me

Yesterday is history

Tomorrow's a mystery

I can see you looking back at me

Keep your eyes on me

Baby, keep your eyes on me

Drake stood frozen, staring at the coffin in front of him, he’d barely been making it through the days since that night. He felt empty, broken, his other half, his better half, his whole world had died in his arms. He couldn’t protect her, he was too late, Liam blamed him to make matters worse. He had lost both of his best friends now, he was alone at court. He couldn’t even see her one last time, it was closed casket because the damage had been too extensive, no one wanted the people’s last thought of Emma to look like that. They put up Drake’s favorite picture of her, she was all dolled up for a ball, looking over her shoulder at someone laughing because of what they’d said, her long blonde curls cascading down her back. It killed Drake to look at it, his heart shattering a little more every time, though he didn’t even think that was possible, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look away. Looking away meant that he had to look at the coffin, a reminder that she really was gone forever. One by one her friends came and dropped a rose and some dirt into her grave, whispering goodbyes. Drake went last, dropping in a sunflower, since that was her favorite, he dropped more tears than anything though. He couldn’t believe this had happened, after everything. He had taken a bullet for her the first time, if he had just been sleeping in her room that night, they wouldn’t be here. She would still be curled up in his arms, safe, breathing deeply with her head on his chest. Drake fell to his knees, his whole body wracked with sobs and guilt, he had promised to protect her, to love her forever. They were supposed to have forever together though, now he would have to spend forever alone.

Liam had found comfort with Olivia and frankly, Drake hated his guts for it. He claimed to have loved Emma, but so quickly moved onto Olivia, getting the kind of support he so desperately wanted and needed. Sure, everyone missed her, but no one understood Drake’s pain, he couldn’t even put in into words. The closest he could come to describing it was soul crushing oblivion. He didn’t even know how to begin to live life without her, she had completely turned his world upside down and set it on fire just to leave him, to deal with the cleanup. He couldn’t blame her though, she had only gone down to the vault because she was trying to solve the mystery, protect her friends, protect him. He got back to the palace and peeled off every piece of his all black suit he had bought just for this, he wanted to burn it, he hated it, hated everything it represented. He caught a glimpse of a picture sitting on his desk, it was a picture of them from New York, before Liam had proposed. He had handed her a stuffed animal, she smiled down at it, squeezing it in her arms, Drake was smiling down at her, the happiest man alive in that moment. He flipped the picture face down, grateful for Maxwell’s stupid scrapbook, without it he wouldn’t have any proof she had ever chosen him. Wandering to her room in a drunken stupor he found it was cleared out already except for the same stuffed animal on her bed. Sitting there, just waiting for her to return. Drake collapsed again, unable to see through the flood of tears running down his face, broken glass in his hand from the bottle of whiskey he had been carrying. He reached out to the stuffed animal clinging to it, holding it against his heart as if he could somehow will her back to life.

“You asked me to love you till the day you die, well that wasn’t supposed to be until we were old and grey! I don’t know how to do this without you Emma.” His words were muffled into the bear, it still smelled like her. Warm vanilla, a hint of strawberries and fragrant flowers. Normally it was heady and intoxicating, Emma’s skin brushing against his, this time it only brought him a little comfort, aiding the alcohol in numbing the pain to a dull ache in his heart.

“Don’t move!” Emma opened her eyes to find Mara standing there, having already disarmed Justin, leveling his own gun at his chest. She was bewildered, checking her body to see if she was still solid, still alive. She was on the floor, she must have passed out, her head throbbing, a large bump forming where she must have hit it.

“Get the fuck away from Barnes!” Liam and Drake came rushing down the stairs, Emma breathed in a sigh of relief when she saw them, she was safe, she was indeed still alive. Lucretia still had one trick up her sleeve though, taunting Olivia once more about not knowing her past. She leaned against the wall and a large crack opened, the ceiling beginning to collapse around them. Mara grabbed Lucretia before she could get away, but Justin was quicker and disappeared into the dust. Liam rushed in and Emma thought he was going after her, but he pulled Olivia out and Drake grabbed Emma just moments before the ceiling collapsed where they had been standing. Drake enveloped Emma in his arms, she breathed in deep, inhaling his familiar scent of leather, whiskey and aftershave. One of his arms held her flush against his body, while his other gently stroked her hair, whispering soothing sweet nothings in her ear. Seeing that gun leveled on her brought him back to the homecoming ball, he thought he was going to lose her again, and he knew he wouldn’t survive that. Drake looked over at Liam, expecting to see a pang of jealousy on his friends face, instead he smiled softly, Liam was too focused on Olivia to even notice them. Olivia was tough, but she was visibly shaken by the encounter, Liam gently rubbing her arms and talking to her in hushed tones. Maybe there was hope for Liam after all, Drake thought. They escorted the women to their rooms, Drake stopping outside of Emma’s door, the charade was up. Mara and the rest of the guard now knew about them, not that it was a well-kept secret, but it was confirmed now. He tried to leave Emma, but she yanked his hand back, refusing to let go.

“Drake. You can’t leave me, not now.” He glanced nervously at Mara, but she kept her eyes ahead. He nodded and followed Emma into her room, holding her, gently tracing small circles on her back to try and help her fall asleep. He ended up falling asleep first, every time Emma closed her eyes she saw Justin pointing the gun at her, the vision of Drake haunting her every thought. They traveled to the palace the next day, everyone still shaken by what had occurred in the vault, Lucretia being transferred to a secure location where she could be interrogated. Drake refused to leave Emma’s side, both of them scared that Anton was lurking around every corner. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Drake about it, she knew it would hurt him than he already had been, she could feel Drake’s pain in that vision, she knew neither of them would be able to survive losing the other. She couldn’t let him out of her site until Anton was found. Olivia hardly left Liam’s side, needing the comfort more than she cared to admit, and trying to figure out a way to annul her marriage to Anton. After a week, Mara had a security briefing ready for them, everyone meeting in one of the dining halls. Maxwell blamed himself, the Beaumont’s had been the one to hire Justin, but the truth was he had fooled everyone and so there was no one to blame. Anton saw an opening to get close to the Royal court and he took it.

“I shudder to think what could have happened if he got to you before you and Emma are married before there’s an heir.” The weight of Regina’s words hitting everyone, she didn’t know about Drake and Emma, they hadn’t had the heart to tell her as she and Constantine were so excited for Liam. They would need to be married and produce an heir quickly if Anton wasn’t caught. That put even more pressure on her, and pressure on Drake, all of them would be forced into the role of parents even if they weren’t ready. Even if they hadn't figured out how it was going to work long term.

“Yes, that’s concerning.” Liam mumbled.

“It must be the reason for ancient ascension laws, to counteract schemes like this.” Olivia flinched at Regina’s words, even if she wasn’t behind this, she couldn’t help but feel responsible as it was her husband and aunt plotting it all without her knowledge.

“What’s the plan then? How are we going to stop Anton from attacking again?” Emma was still anxious, she wanted this whole ordeal to be over with.

“Your duchy. We haven’t yet been on the tour and I doubt they will be expecting us to go there.” Everyone nodded their approval, Emma was excited to see her duchy finally, Valtoria. On the drive there, Emma found herself daydreaming about what it would look like. Was it grand? Was it quaint and homey? Nothing she could dream up compared to it once they finally arrived. She squeezed Drake’s hand as she looked out the window, a gleaming lake spread out in front of them, a luscious forest at the edge of her duchy, and a large, but simple estate designed to look like a castle in the center of it all. Before they could get two steps up the drive, a woman dressed in a suit greeted them, introducing herself as Gladys. She showed them around the estate and grounds, Emma’s duchy had it all. Stables, a menagerie, the beautiful estate, a lake, and of course the forest. In the grand hall though, Emma was blown away by the throne’s beauty, but it left a sour taste in her mouth, a reminder that she would have to sit on a throne beside Liam instead of on Drake’s lap as they curled up together in the room around her. Gladys ended the tour with the master bedroom, she wanted to show just her and Liam something, but Emma insisted everyone stay. If it was something meant to be private, she wanted Drake there with her. Gladys led her and Liam out to a balcony before quietly stepping away.

“I believe this is for you and Drake.” Liam whispered before slipping away, Drake joining her there on the balcony, looking out over her duchy. The hills turned into mountains, the lake going as far as the eye could see.

“It’s perfect.” She breathed out. Drake grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him.

“I could see this being our home someday. After the press has died down, you and I can slip away from the palace and live here, returning when we’re needed.” Emma’s heart ached, she wanted nothing more than that with Drake, but it felt like it would never happen, like it was all a fantasy.

“Drake, my home is in your eyes, your arms, your heartbeat. You’re my home, it doesn’t matter where we are. I love you.” He leaned down to kiss her softly, resting his forehead against hers. Sometimes he still didn’t believe she had picked him, that he could have gotten so lucky as to have someone as amazing as Emma love him.

“I love you too Em.” Later, her friends spread out as they explored the rest of the estate, Emma found Drake out in the stables, she knew it was where he felt calmest.

“Hey you.” He turned and smiled, continuing to brush one of the horses.

“This place is huge Barnes. A little overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean, I feel like I’ve barely seen any of it, even after the tour.” Drake turned to her with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Feel like taking a private tour with me?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Drake saddled up the horses, he and Emma riding off into a forest trail. They followed the trail to a clearing by a large lake, Emma and Drake jumping off their horses.

“It still doesn’t feel real.” Emma looked at Drake confused. “I can’t believe that you chose me, that this is all yours, that you’re still the same woman I fell in love with despite it all.” Emma smiled and grabbed Drake’s hand, giggling as he spun her around so her back was to him.

“It’s ours Drake, no matter who I’m married to, everything I have, including my heart will always belong to you.” Drake began swaying and kissed her, he felt reassured by her words, he hated that he let his fears keep ruining moments like this for him. They broke away breathless, Emma very aware of his hands now lingering on her hips.

“It still feels weird Barnes.”

“We could always build ourselves a cabin here, add a porch where we can sit in our rocking chairs and stare out at the water.” Drake began kissing down her neck, pulling on her ear lobe with his teeth, his hot breath tickling her ear.

“I like that idea Barnes.” His hands wandered down her leg, and back up, his nails and rough calluses dragging against the sensitive skin inside her thighs. He slowly unbuttoned her pants, Emma gasping as his hands slid into her pants, teasing her over her thong.

“Drake.” She tried to turn to face him, but he held her in place, his hand pushing her panties aside to tease her clit. Emma moaned and leaned back into Drake, his bulge pushing against her. Emma lost herself in his touch, Drake too focused on the sound of Emma’s moans to notice that the sun had gotten quite low since they left.

“Drake.” Emma was so close, he knew it too, they were so focused on each other, they didn’t hear the horse approaching.

“Emma, Drake, we were wor-Oh!” Emma and Drake jumped apart, Liam staring at them with a scowl on his face. Emma turned, her cheeks bright red, as she buttoned up her pants.

“I, um, well everyone was worried because we couldn’t find you and then noticed some horses were missing. We should head back before it’s too dark.” Liam turned to ride away.

“Liam!” Emma called after him, but he was already gone. She turned to Drake and sighed, they could never seem to get the timing right.

“I guess we should go.” He helped her back onto her horse and followed her, heading back towards the estate. Emma slept alone that night and for the first time since Lythikos she got a good night's sleep, but Hana was pounding on her door early the next morning. She had invited her parents to the lighting festival tomorrow and they had accepted, she hadn't seen them since she blatantly disobeyed them, she was worried to say the least. They walked down to the boutique together, Emma attempting to calm her friends’ nerves. Bertrand was late, but he already had the perfect dress picked out for her as always. It was meant to represent her house sigil, a phoenix. It was a high neck, blue, orange and red hues all mixed together with gold swirls accenting her chest. A long cape flowing behind the dress, it even had a matching hat, but she felt absolutely ridiculous wearing it so she left it at the boutique. Emma tried to leave and go check on last minute preparations, but Bertrand followed her around, lecturing her about anything and everything he could think of.

“Are you going to lecture me about safe sex too Bertrand? Or do you think Drake and I are responsible enough?” She snapped, Bertrand's eyes grew wide as Emma's hands flew to her mouth, realizing what she had just said. As if it couldn't get any worse, Drake chose that moment to walk into the room. Bertrand didn't know about Emma and Drake, he'd be pissed, cat was out of the bag now though.

“You slept with the commoner?! Are you trying to ruin the Beaumont house name? What about Liam?”

“So, I'm not good enough for Emma because I'm a commoner, but you're somehow good enough for my sister?”

“No, I, that's not what I meant Drake.” Bertrand was scrambling for the right words.

“I love Drake and that's never going to change no matter what anyone thinks. Liam and I have had an arrangement since New York. I'm marrying him to keep my friends, the people I love, and Cordonia safe. You of all people should know that status doesn't matter! It wasn't fair of you to place the responsibility of keeping your house afloat on me, you got what you wanted anyways, so just leave us be Bertrand.” he stood there for a moment shocked, Emma had never spoken to him that way, no one ever had. He shuffled away, and Drake turned to Emma.

“That was so hot, and this dress is absolutely stunning on you. If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to kill me Barnes.” he said trying to distract himself from the anger towards Bertrand rising in him.

“I can always take it off.” She leaned in and whispered. Drake pretended to collapse, and Emma rolled her eyes at him.

“That would surely kill me Barnes because you're drop dead gorgeous.” He leaned in for a kiss, but Emma turned away, noticing Liam entering the room.

Tag List: @notoriouscs @brightpinkpeppercorn @ooo-barff-ooo@leelee10898@princesstopgun@choicesyouplayandmore@sleepwalkingelite@roonarific @indigo39@skyila@speedyoperarascalparty @andy-loves-corgis@furiousherringoperatortoad@drakewalkerfics@findingdrake@sue9659@smritysriv@larryssunflower@likethetailofacomet@zaffrenotes@mrsdrakewalkerblog @agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you @cgd03

Next time: Get ready for some good smut, since I left ya’ll with that awful cliffhanger and start of this chapter

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