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heartofsnark · 4 years ago

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Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Two): Here In Night City

Notes: This one has been done for a while, I’ve been pretty busy and overwhelmed with school for a while, but I’ve been having some fun silverv shenanigans on my personal account and I figured it was time to post it. I’m not sure how I feel about it? It went through some heavy edits, so there might be some typos and issues with that, and writing a montage...is new territory for me...

Word Count: 14799

Chapter Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Casual Discussion of Suicide (its fairly common in Night City according to lore), Talks of Sex but nothing explicit

If you haven’t yet, you can read the first chapter here.

V fiddles with the frayed edges of her hoodie, following behind Jackie. The night air chills her skin as they walk. It's not far from the bar where he stops a building, among the shorter cluster of buildings in Heywood, in no way stretching up into the heaven like many of the buildings in Night City. Jackie has no hesitation, taking the steps two at a time and swinging the front door open. She moves to take her mask off, not wanting to risk creeping his mom out, though her bruises and blood matted hair won’t do her any favors.

“Ma! I brought a friend home!” He yells out, like they’re kids asking to have a sleepover and V finds herself smiling. V bounces slightly on the balls of her feet, looking around the living room, the little collections of knick knacks, little calavera skulls. The couch covered in blankets and the warm little cozy touches within the home.

“Jaquito!” A woman’s accented voice rings out, Jackie’s mom coming into the living room, “where the hell have you been!? I’ve been worried sick!”

Jackie’s mom is a woman somewhere in her fifties, if V had to wager a guess, with gray hair that falls down past her shoulders and blue eyes. There’s a softness to her as she looks at her son, something inherently maternal to her gaze. There’s wrinkled lines of worry around her eyes.

“Ay, I told you Mama, it was just biz. Nothing to worry about,” Jackie waves off his mother’s concerns.

“And your friend?” The older woman’s eyes land on her, she looks down finding a spot on the floor to focus on.

“Ma, this is V.”

Jackie turns to introduce her and V starts to look up, then his green eyes widen for a moment. It’s the first time he’s seen her without the mask, she’s realized, and she finds herself hyperaware of her features, worrying about how they’re being viewed. Her hands fidget and nerves flush her face. She’s not even this anxious when a hookup sees her face for the first time. The idea of a potential bedmate rejecting her is nothing compared to this visceral fear that her new friend and his mother not approving of her .

“Hi,” she signs, slightly stilted in her movements, feeling as if she might combust.

Her already awkward gestures completely freeze when she feels Senora Welles cups her cheek, fingers rubbing over the purple bruises on V’s skin. The touch is kind and warm, stirring up memories of V’s own mother. Memories of being a child returning to camp after hours of scavenging through a landfill or exploring the new land just for her mother to come look over her for every bruise or mark she may have collected.

“My Jackie drag you into one of his messes?” Senora Welles asks before V can go further down the slippery nostalgia slope. Fingers brush across the blood in the back of V’s hair, the worry etching the older woman’s expression only grows. The intensity makes the former nomad look at the ground, unable to maintain eye contact.

“It was a client, mama,” Jackie answers for V, “First night in NC spent bleeding out in a dumpster, second will be spent on the street unle-”

“Say no more. I’ll get you some clean clothes, you can use our shower, and we’ll get some food in your belly, alright?”

“Alright, thank you, so much,” V signs as Senora Welles pulls away. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve their kindness, but she’s thankful for it, nonetheless.

She’s given a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants once Senora Welles has shown her to the bathroom. It’s modest with a tile floor, stickers on the mirror and sugar skulls beside it. V catches sight of herself in the mirror and blinks at what’s looking back at her, she understands Jackie and his mother’s reaction now. While she suspected and felt what she may look like. But her reflection staring back at her confirms it. Purples, blues, and greens scatter across her face like galaxies over her skin. Her eyeliner has smeared and smudged around her eyes. Her hair is in tangles, darkening red flecks of blood staining the bleached blonde and dark brown of her roots where it sticks to her scalp the ponytail she tied it back in is now knots. She needs a cut and a touch up. But bleach may have to wait, when she tries to brush it out, it hurts, pulling at the not quite healed wound on her scalp and bringing fresh blood to the surface. She does the best she can for now before deciding it’s enough.

V triple checks the lock on the door, not out of distrust for the Welles, but her own paranoia and habit. Then she strips out of her clothes and takes out her hearing aids, stashing them in the medicine cabinet in hopes of protecting them from steam. She rubs at the reddened skin of her ears. She knows they’re necessary, but they chap and rub her ears raw after too long. There’s cream she has for it, that’s in her duffle bag, that was in her Rattler. She pouts at the realization before she turns on the hot water, stepping under it’s spray.

The hot water is a welcomed relief to her aching muscles, as she washes away the grime, she starts to feel human again. She scrubs the blood and mess from her hair, careful of her still tender scalp as she washes away the mess that was her first day in Night City.

V dries off and slots her hearing aids back in, they seem to still be dry. She throws on the clothes she was given. The shirt hangs off her shoulders and the hem hits at her knees, she gets the idea the shirt may be Jackie’s. She’s less sure of the sweatpants, they do sag on her hips and the legs go well over her feet, but with enough tightening of the drawstring they manage to stay up. Baggy, soft, and warm. If not for the still steady pain in her temples and the cramping of her empty belly, she could curl up to sleep. Her hair is still in absolute knots, so she ops for putting it up in a bun to save for a time in which she can handle combing through it. Then finally she leaves the bathroom, peeking around the corner.

“Chica, in here!” Jackie’s voice booms and calls her into the kitchen.

She pads her way in there, Senora Welles and Jackie are gathered around a table in the kitchen. He’s thrown off his jacket, showing the muscle shirt he wore beneath it. And despite having seen him all night, she truly feels like she’s seeing him fully now in the cozy lighting of the kitchen. Freckled skin, biceps the size of her head, a black and red tattoo on his wrist and forearm that’s cut off by a gold bracelet. The light catches off the cyberware across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He grins widely as his mother fills a bowl with chili, the grown man shoveling it in his mouth without waiting for it to cool, like an overexcited child.

“Over here, mija, take a seat and a bowl,” Senora Welles beckons her over.

V climbs up into a seat, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. Senora Welles fills a bowl to the top with chilli for her; the smell of the tomato, synth beef, and veggies making her stomach growl. She’s torn between gratefulness and feeling a bit like a mangy dog Jackie dragged in. It’s fine line between kindness and pity, she can only hope it’s the former rather than the latter.

“Thank you, so much.”

The second she’s done signing another thanks, she’s shoving chili into her mouth and its so good. Perfectly cooked and with a hint of spice. She nearly inhales the rest of her bowl, barely coming up for air as she gobbles it up. A second bowl goes by just as quickly, she’s pretty sure Jackie’s on her third by the time she grabs the second. She’s slowing down by her third, her stomach not quite bursting, and she’s willing to push it just to keep eating.

“Aye, you’re as bad as Jaquito,” Senora Welles teases, smiling as she calmly eats her own food.

“Sorry, its just really good…” V signs with one hand, still eating with her other.

“Told you my ma made the best chili.”

“Hey, what did I say about talking with your mouth full, Jackie!” His mother scolds him.

“V did it first.”

“I don’t talk!”

“See, she did it again!” Jackie teases when she signs again. V swallows her mouthful of chili and sticks her tongue out at Jackie. The joking around has eased some of the tension for V, Jackie still treating her like a new friend and not some sad sack he’s trying to help.

“So, V,” Senora Welles says after a few moments, “where are you from?”

“All of the everywhere, I think I was born in North Carolina? Maybe?”

“You’re a nomad?”

V chews her lip, the media talk about nomads is far from good, usually painted as asshole outlaws. Corps don’t like them. Corps own the media. So they make sure the media tells everyone that nomads are the violent assholes who refuse to fall in line, refused to sell their land, and then ran away to ruin everyone’s life when they lost the battle. Not that it stops them from lining a nomad’s pocket when they need work done. Which, granted, her own nomad family are…violent assholes and criminals, but that doesn’t mean they all are. And she doesn’t want to be painted with that same brush. And there are good solid nomad families out there, she’s met more than a few in Bakkers, Aldecaldos, and Red Ochre Clan; to name just a handful.

“Formerly, yeah, was hoping to make a new life here.”

“Your nomad family ain’t waiting for you?”

“Uh, no, just…no.”

Tears prick at the back of V’s eyes, threatening to shed as she thinks of her mom, put down in a med tent. The first time her father held a captive bolt pistol to the base of her skull, ready to kill her for her newfound disability. The way everything seemed to change when she lost her hearing. Her sister hunting her down like a dog, not caring who she has to shake down, what she has to burn to the ground; just to kill her on the order of their father. She bites down harshly on her lower lip, she doesn’t want to think about it.

Then there’s an arm wrapping around her shoulders, Senora Welles having stood up at some point, and now gently tucking V’s head under her chin. A gentle one-armed hug, not tight or all-encompassing but warm and kind, without pushing her.

“No worries, mija,” the older woman speaks against V’s skin, “you can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank you, that means a lot,” V’s not sure if at the angle, Senora Welles eyes can translate her signing, but she squeezes the older woman’s hand, hoping it can be communicated through touch if nothing else. Appreciative as she is, there’s a small pit in her stomach, she’s already becoming a burden to someone new.

A moment passes and then Senora Welles gives a soft kiss to the top of her head before taking away the dirty dishes. V starts to gather it as well, she’s eating their food and staying in their house, the least she can do. If she’s going to impose for any length of time, she needs to make herself worthwhile to have around, to some degree.

“No, no, no, V. You’re a guest, go on and get settled in,” Senora Welles stops her before she can help any further.

“Uh-“

“C’mon, jaina,” Jackie gives a quick pat to her shoulder, “I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”

She gets up from her seat, feet padding up the stairs after Jackie. He barely fits between the banisters, his wide muscular frame completely blocking her view as they move through the house. He takes her up to a bedroom, its not particularly big, and she can’t help but think he’s had it since he was a child. There’s fitness posters on the wall, weights that she imagines Jackie could juggle if he wanted, a vanity with a rosary, but it’s what stacked on top of one of the desks that catches her eye.

Two desks are flush against one of the walls, one with a large aquarium balanced on it. Vivid blue and white fluorescent lights illuminating the water. Only one fish swims through it, gray with a fin, like a mini shark. V can’t help the noise of excitement she makes as she bounces on the balls of her feet over to the tank, sitting in the chair at the desk. She wants a better look at this beautiful baby.

“V, meet Taco,” Jackie introduces her to the dwarf shark.

“I’d die for him,” she signs, with zero hesitation.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Heh,” she giggles at his response, “must have cost you an arm and a leg.”

“Think I bought him?”

V’s nose wrinkles as she laughs, hands forming words, “forbidden shark.”

V taps against the aquarium glass, getting Taco’s attention, she drags her finger back and forth across the glass watching the large fish chase her finger. Taco twirls and twists, trying to nibble at her finger through the glass.

“So, what happens tomorrow?” Jackie asks, bed creaking under his weight.

She turns in the chair, resting her arms and chin across the back of it as she shifts to face him. Jackie has sat down on the bed tucked into a cubby against a wall. Can he even fit on that bed? She’s still not even sure who’s sleeping where tonight, she has no intention of stealing the man’s bed, if anything she wishes you could buy him a bigger one to more comfortably fit him.

“Tomorrow? Gonna get my shit back, hopefully turn a quick profit off the cargo, and get myself a place. I don’t plan on making a nuisance out of myself, I promise.”

She’s thankful for the hospitality and as much as she maybe shouldn’t, she’ll take advantage for the night. But, she has no intention of leeching off of their kindness. They may be opening their door to her, but no one wants a mooch. She’s an adult and needs to take care of herself.

“Pfft, you ain’t no fucking nuisance, my ma’s probably just happy to have someone who’ll help with the dishes.”

“I don’t wan-“ she shifts gears mid-sentence, “you don’t help your mom with the dishes?”

“Eh, ya know,” he makes a vague wiggly hand gesture and scrunches his face up “it’s gross…” He shrugs.

“Of course it’s gross, you dummy! She cooks for you for god’s sake, the least you can do is help clean up!”

“I’m busy, okay!”

“Unbelievable.”

“Look,” he laughs, “ that, this was not the point, Chica. So, before you climb up my ass again… Lemme ask, what about the day after tomorrow? Day after that… you ice Sinclaire and then what? ”

“Hmmm,” she hums, tapping her fingers against the chair before signing, “I hate to disappoint but I haven’t come up with any grand plan since the last time you asked. ’

“Figured as much, you ever do any merc work before this?”

“Little things, smuggling jobs here and there, stayed out of cities so pickings were slim. You been doing it long?”

“Most of my life; work for yourself, live for yourself. Only way there is, if you ask me.”

“Probably be the easiest way to make eddies after I square away this cargo thing,” she admits, she never really put it into thoughts, but she always sort of assumed that’s where she’d end up once she landed in the city. The only other alternative would be some entry level job waiting tables or something and that might even be a pipe dream if they expect her to have cyberware or something resembling a formal education.

“Already got a fixer who likes you,” Jackie tells her, “and not to brag, but with me as your partner you’ll be getting preem jobs right out the gate.”

“Oh, so we’re partners now?”

“Don’t see why not, already know we work well together, I could use an extra pair of hands and you could use really any help you can get, and… ” he pauses for a moment, finding his words, “I just got a good feeling about this, ‘bout us.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah, that the two of us could make to the top.”

She’s trying not to laugh as she sees excitement fill his eyes, like a child on Christmas. It’s not as if merc work is new territory to her, she’s taken odd jobs in the Badlands. But, it is sparser than in the city and mostly smuggling. She can’t exactly proclaim it’s her dream job or what she wants to do forever, but she can’t think of a damn thing else she’d like to do. Death has been nipping at her heels since she was nine years old, she hasn’t thought far ahead, hasn’t felt she had any right to.

And, she can’t really say she gives a fuck about making it to the top. Riches, fame, notoriety, being a legend. She couldn’t care less. She just wants to be in control of her own life, to feel like she has no restraints, and to build a life that has meaning to her. To be the person she wants to be, even though she isn’t quite sure who that is yet… She’s twenty, twenty-one this year, and she never even thought she’d get that far. Its hard to really expect her to know exactly who she is or what she wants.

But… could she really even get that far? Jackie seems convinced, but could she be capable of that? Is she strong enough? Competent enough?

“I’m talking the major leagues, V. The top of the top, the mercs who get the best jobs, are swimming in eddies; Night City legends.”

“That what you want?”

“More than anything. Raised in shit, told I’d never climb out, but I’m gonna prove ‘em wrong. Don’t you want to? Show every son of a bitch who put you down, looked down their nose at you, that they didn’t know shit?”

Her father and his words come flooding to her mind; told she’s weak, worthless, defective, not worth the lead to blow her brains out. And yeah, she’d love to prove him wrong. To be strong and show she’s capable. To know she can take care of herself, that she doesn’t need anyone else to be okay. She’d love to prove to the people who told her she needed to get her hearing “fixed”, that she’s not fucking broken. Even now, people like Sinclaire take one look at her and see her as gutter trash. She wants respect, the security that comes with it, not notoriety. Proving her strength, her capability, her worth by taking any job that comes her way is more than a little enticing, it’d earn her that respect both from others.

But more importantly, she’d like to prove that to herself. To know in her heart she really isn’t any of those things. That she isn’t a burden. To prove to herself that she’s capable of more than being a burden, more than meandering along to her father’s orders. For once she’d like for others not to look at her like cockroach and more importantly to be able to look at herself and see more than a waste of space. To finally feel right in her own skin, take that voice of doubt that keeps asking her if she’s enough, and crush it.

She could give a fuck less who knows her name, hell she prefers no one ever does. Its not the notoriety or fame. V greatly prefers being unknowable, between the mask and alias she’s a few blurry photos away from going full cryptid. And she likes that. If she keeps the mask on for business, keep work and personal separate with it, she could keep her privacy. Keep skeletons in her closet from coming back to bite her...

For so long she was told she was weak by The Herd. Weak for her disability. Weak for accepting her mother’s protection.

An outcasts among outcasts, thats what the sheriff said, and he didn’t know the half of it. Nomads the outcasts of regular society, raffen shiv the outcasts of the nomads, and her an outcast among the raffen shiv. An outcast from the outcasts of the outcasts. So unwanted by the world and even her own fucking body. There has never in twenty years been a place for her in this world. But maybe she’s finally found it, working her ass off with Jackie and showing Night City just what she can do.

“Lets do it,” she decides, she wants this, not to be famous or major leagues but to be untouchable, to prove a point, to take control of her life, to be more than anyone thought she could be, and to like what she sees when she looks in the mirror.

“Fuck yeah,” he shifts to face her fully, catching her hand in shake, his large fingers blanketing her smaller ones, “this is the start of a beautiful thing, I just know it.”

That night, Jackie sleeps on the couch in the living room, despite V’s constant insistence that she’ doesn’t want to take over his bed; his stubbornness wins out. And as he leaves to the living room she’s left with the weight of loneliness, of trying to sleep without the warmth of another beside her. It’s a dumb issue to have, keeping the world at arm’s length and keeping her walls up at all times, but needing a hug to sleep. Years of safety in numbers being beat into her head, sleeping alone feels like baring her throat for the wolves and expecting herself to find peace.

As odd, creepy, weird as it may be V takes advantage of the benefit that sleeping in Jackie’s clothes and bed has for her. Burying her nose in the pillows and blankets that smell like him, smell like another person, trying to convince her senses she’s not alone. Letting the smell of cheap cologne and some oil she can’t quite place soothe her. It used to be a band tee she stole from Ava, before…everything, though the scent has steadily faded over time, its still a source of comfort. And it was in her bag…in her car. Who knows if she’ll find it again…

Then there’s her pictures and the old polaroid camera she fixed up to take them. A little treasure she found rummages through a landfill out towards Oregon. Photos of her sister, her mother, and Ava; of her life before she had to run. Back when she still thought that a family that doesn’t want you was worth having… Pictures from her time on the road; her and Sabrina, the sweet group of Bakkers who sold her the Rattler, and just any place, sight, or person that managed to make her day or make a few days. Loneliness colored a lot of that time, but she made her memories, people she’s sure forgot her when she left but whom she’ll never forget.

Her mom’s guitar… the one thing she went back for the night she left, doubling back and breaking into her father’s tent for it when she realized she had left. Stepping into the lion’s den just to have it, she can’t play, she gave up on learning when her hearing went. But those early memories of sitting in her mother’s lap at camp with the guitar in her hands, small fingers callusing as they plucked at the strings….

And all of those could be gone. Every memory and memento could be gone for good because of one asshole. She digs her nails into her scalp and knots her hair, anger and anxiety pitting in her stomach, bleeding into each other.

She burrows into the blankets and pillows, trying to prevent her thoughts from wandering, though it’s fighting an uphill battle, trying to think of the name of every star she knows in alphabetical order if only to bore her brain into sleep rather than letting it race in circles. She’s somewhere between Meissa and Merga when she finally falls asleep.

And she awakes in the dead of night; chest tight and lungs struggling to get a deep breath of air. No nightmare this time, but a sense of panic and dread pumping adrenaline into her blood, making her heart race as she jumps out of Jackie’s bed. She checks the door, she locked it before she went to bed, she needs doors locked. And she knows she did, but she needs to check it. She locks and unlocks it, no windows to check, so her focus is only on the door. And she does that until the tightness in her chest ease, until she can breathe a little easier, locking it for the last time before walking away from the door. Security, safety, a paranoia that tells her to never feel safe. That the world has always wanted her gone and one day death will knock at her door for the last time.

Her body feels heavy as she wanders to Taco’s tank, the shark swimming in circles, V’s face bathed in the blue light from it. There’s still a shake in her hands, but her limbs are leaden as she sits down at the desk. She watches him swim and swish around for a few moments, sprinkling some of his food into the tank to watch him eat.

“Really wish I could hold you, right now.”

She speaks it out loud, softly to the swimming shark, needing to put her thoughts into the world but hands too shaky to sign worth a damn. Though they still ache and twitch to do so. After a few more moments of watching the mini shark swim, she crawls back into bed to sleep for the rest of the night. Thankful, that she doesn’t wake until morning.

The newly appointed merc is dragging when she wakes, as always due to her lackluster sleeping patterns. To make matters worse, her eyes are red and itchy, sensitive even in the light of the house. A flare up, autoimmune disease coming back to kick her ass for stressing and not sleeping. Her joints ache, swollen, as she groggily stumbles her way from Jackie’s bedroom, when a sweet smell hits her nose, stomach growling. She

Senora Welles and Jackie are at the table, she made breakfast of course, because she’s entirely too nice. On the table is a spread of french toast with cinnamon whip cream on top. Jackie already has a stack nearly as tall as V on his plate, half eaten.

Jackie yells out something, his mouth full, and she realizes the world is still quiet as his mother scolds him. Her eyes are too irritated and her mind too groggy for her to be able to competently read lips. She holds up a finger, asking them to wait a moment, and doubles back to Jackie’s bedroom. She grabs her hearing aids and contemplates grabbing her mask, just so it can translate for her.

Optic translations are pretty advanced for sign language, but they have limitations. Like people needing to look at the signer the entire time and name signs being essentially untranslatable since they’re personal to the signer. But she wants to eat and having to hold up her mask everytime she wants to talk is a pain. She turns on her hearing aids and leaves the mask behind, hopefully Jackie and Senora Welles will look at her if she has to say anything or she’ll just stay silent as she stuffs her face. Jackie raises an eyebrow at her when she comes back to the kitchen.

“Forgot my ears,” she signs, tapping her hearing aid, and flinching when it gives a bit of feedback in reaction.

“Ahh, well come sit your ass down, ma made tres leche french toast.”

“Thank you,” she signs to Senora Welles who gives her a soft smile.

“Something up with your optics, jaina? Looking red.”

“I don’t have optic implants,” she signs before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Really? Guess that’d be why you don’t got lipreading tech and explain why they look like you rubbed peppers in them.”

“That’s just a flare up.”

“Flare up?” Senora Welles asks, concern darkening her expression.

“Autoimmune disease, some days my body hates me more than others.”

“That what happen to your…?” Jackie taps his ear, rather than say it outright.

She nods, it attacked the inner ear most aggressively, completely destroying her hearing by nine. According to the clan doctor, all the times she complained about her ears hurting, dizziness, and ringing in her ears it’s because her immune system was aggressively attacking them. But, she was only ever told to walk it off, until inevitably the world went silent. It still flares up, deciding it doesn’t like the rest of her either. Her eyes are what worry her the most but what can she really do.

“There ain’t anything that can help with that.”

“Uh, heard medications can, but haven’t been to a doc since I was sixteen and I ain’t looking to break my streak,” she signs, unable to help the way she scrunches her nose.

She hates doctors. Her last experience with the clan doctor ensured she never wanted to deal with another, not to mention how many times she’s been told to pop by a ripper and just “fix” her hearing.

“Hmm, you got any chrome, V?”

“Nope.” she signs.

“Seriously, nothing?”

“Not even a personal link.” She shows the palms of her hands and wrists, thankful the sleeves of the sweatshirt lent to her cover the brand on her wrist.

“Hate to break it to you, V, but you're gonna need some chrome. Personal link, neural port, bare fuckin’ minimum if you wanna get by in Night City.”

She doesn’t answer, just pouting as she pours sugar and milk into her coffee, until there’s barely a hint of brown coloring. She isn’t against cyberware inherently and everyone’s choice is their own, but whether it’s the years of being told they’re cheap tools to make the weak feel strong or just her own discomfort with everything it entails, the whole thing makes her skin crawl. V already hates doctors and would rather dose up on bounce backs if she has to. She can stitch her own wounds, has before, whatever it takes to avoid them.

Add in the fact most cyberware is made and licensed by corps, no. Sure, black alley shit exists, but just the idea of a corp having the right to her eyes. What if they revoke someone’s usage of them, spy through them, confiscate them?

“Once your two finish your business, take her to Viktor,” Senora Welles tells Jackie, before turning to look at V, “he’s a good man, I’d trust to take care of anyone, mija. I’m sure he can help with whatever you need.”

“Okay, if he has your seal of approval, suppose I gotta at least see him.” V concedes, Senora Welles seems convinced this guy is good. Even if V decides to just try to go without, everything, it can’t hurt just to meet the guy.

“Vik’s one of my closest friends, he’ll take care of you, promise. Though, uh, keep taking your coffee like that, he might have his work cut out for him.”

“I like sweets,” she signs, shrugging before taking a drink of her coffee and another big bite of french toast. They’re incredible, cinnamon whip cream sticking to her lips.

“You might as well inhale sugar.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t.”

They finish up the breakfast, V stuffed with a good three or more stacks of french toast. Senora Welles begins to collect the dishes. And no, V’s not letting this happen again.

“We’ll do dishes,” she signs, starting to collect the plates.

“We?”

“No, no, you don’t have to, dear.”

“I insist please, you cooked, it’s only right for us to clean up afterwards,” she signs with one hand then looks to Jackie, “right?”

“Right… we’ll take care of it ma.”

“Thank you, Mija,” Senora Welles squeezes her shoulder, “I washed your clothes last night, I’ll leave them in the bathroom, once you two finish with the dishes you can wash up and get changed.”

“Thank you,” V signs again before taking the dishes to the sink with Jackie.

“One night here and you’re already the favorite, Jesucristo.”

V can’t resist giggling at the comment, smile on her face. They don’t talk much as they wash dishes, mostly because she can’t sign and clean at the same time. It doesn’t take long before they’ve finished up. V going to shower and change, then they’ll head to the chop shop Padre mentioned. Then it’s time to end Sinclaire.

“You ready to go, V?” Jackie asks when she comes back changed, mask with her for when she’ll need it.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Me and V are headed out, Ma! Be back in time for dinner, promise!”

The pair leave the house and make their way down the steps. The streets are jam packed with people and she’s still not used to the crowd, cringing as she has to weave through them. Jackie doesn’t have a car and her’s is indisposed wherever it is. She nearly trips over a bag of trash trying to keep up with her new partner. Why is the city so dirty? V never even let the camp site get this filthy and these city people just toss their trash out on the street?

“C’mon, we’ll take the train down to the chop shop, see if they got your car first,” Jackie’s voice cuts her off because she can start trying to clean the street.

“I still don’t have any-”

“I’ll pay for us both.”

“Sorry and thanks”

“How many times have you said sorry or thanks since we met?” Jackie asks.

“I wasn’t counting.”

The station is already crowded and she’s cringing at the sight of two many fucking people. They fall in line, jacking in personal links, eyes glowing as they pay the fee then wait for the train. Mothers holding their children’s hands, homeless people with signs at the sides of the station, begging for eddies.

“Too many times,” he says jacking in his personal link, eyes lighting up as he pays for both of their rides, “this is what friends and family are for, chica.”

“To pay my way in the world?” She asks as they step into the crowded subway train.

The crowd is forced to part around Jackie, everyone offering his broad frame more space, as his sheer size demands it. No one moves for V, she has to step and weave around people who easily crowd around her small figure without a second thought. Is it just the size difference? Or something more?

She curls in on herself, shrinking as she maneuvers through people. Too many voices, layering together into cacophony. She can feel the warmth of everyone’s body, the stench of body odor and contrasting perfumes or colognes. She needs her own car, for sure, this is agony. She can’t do this daily.

“To have your back, mija. Besides, acting like world’s doing you a favor by letting you exist, a good way to get your neck stepped on.”

“But, you and your ma are doing me a favor. You gonna step on my neck for thanking you?”

They’ve come to a stop, Jackie finding a empty pole on the subway train to hold onto. She looks up at him, waiting for his answer, blinking expectantly. He’s not seriously suggesting she not be grateful, is he? She’s no stranger to faking confidence or having an attitude, she’s not exactly a goodie two shoes. But she’s not about to be rude to people who don’t invite the behavior. Usually.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Look at you like what?” She asks, migraine forming as she’s surrounded by noise.

“With those puppy eyes.”

“Those are just my eyes, Jackie.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Fine,” she decides, kill two birds, one stone, “I’m gonna put my mask on and turn off my hearing aids for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Too much,” she signs and gesture vaguely to the entire subway.

“Ah, not used to the city noise are ya?” He asks just before she turns off her hearing aids, sliding her mask in place. She breathes a sigh of relief, silence, glorious silence.

“Its...a lot, but in general, world has either been silent or at least had a mute button since I was nine. First time I got my hearing aids, I broke down in tears, felt like the world was screaming at me and that was in the middle of nowhere. I’ve gotten use to them and its not even necessarly the volume, its just that its not cohesive if that makes sense. Not that any sound is too loud, just there’s too many of them.”

“I think, I get ya, if it’s one thing drowning out everything else it’s fine. But, when you got twenty different things going on, it feels like your brain is going in every direction?”

“Kinda? It’s just too much, like the world on low volume.”

“Eh, have a feel you’re gonna be hitting mute on Night City a lot.”

“Yeah, I kinda figure.”

“Hmmm, probably should figure out a better fix than the mask too, can’t wear it all the time.”

“I mean,” she shrugs, “ideally everyone in the world would just learn sign language to accommodate me.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, apparently catching the joke, “Night City ain’t one for accomadating.”

“A person can dream.”

“Tell you what though, chica, teach me sign language, I’ll teach you, Spanish.”

“You got it, and once you know ASL and I know Spanish, we can learn Spanish Sign Language, or if you prefer Mexican Sign Language. Or both.”

“How many different kinds of sign language are there again?”

“Not sure, but I probably can’t count that high. I mean there’s several variations even in just signing in English.”

“Oh…”

“You have ASL which is the most common, you have Signed Exact English which has a lot more fingerspellng. You have Conceptually Accurate Signed English, also sometimes called Pidgin Sign Language which essentially uses ASL signs but follows word order and grammar rules from English. And-”

“I’m regretting this already.”

“Then there’s different dialects used within different parts of the deaf community, like-”

“Well, lookie there, it’s our stop,” Jackie cuts her off when the subway train comes to a stop and she’s smiling behind her mask, watching the way the gears in his head turn trying to keep up with this information.

V stays close to his back as he leaves the crowded train, taking advantage of the space the crowd gives him to give herself some space. The chop shop is just a short walk from the station and despite struggling to keep up with Jackie’s longer strides, they reach it without much issue. V making sure to turn her hearing aids back on before she enters the store.

“Can I help you?” A worker grumbles when the pair walk through the door.

“I’m looking for a Galena Rattler, nomad vehicle, red. Someone brought it in here.”

The worker scratches at the cybernetics etching his face, searching his memory for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“Had something like that come in a day or two ago, had a dog bobblehead on the dash?’

“That’s the one.”

“Bucket of rust was sent to the landfill as soon as it got here, probably scrapped by now.”

Her heart sinks into her chest, her first car, her fucking home for the past four or so years; gone. All because some asshole had to fuck her over. She wants to scream, cry a little bit, kick something.

“Sorry, kid, uh, I can get you the stuff we got out of it. About all I can offer you.”

“Okay…”

She nudges the floor with the toe of her boot, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she waits. It isn’t long until the worker emerges from the back room with her dufflebag, the guitar case, and her dog bobblehead. V checks through, all weapons and first aid shit gone. But her holophone, her clothes, the clunky old little computer, her photos, and her mother’s guitar are all still there. Basically anything they couldn’t feasibly make a profit off of is still there. Photos mean nothing, a crappy landfill camera worthless, beat up acoustic guitar, and tech that dates back a good couple years don’t amount to much when you want cash. At least being generations behind everyone else has done her some good. Even if she still lost her car.

Most of her mementos were saved, but a pit still forms in her stomach at losing her car, essentially her closest thing to home since she left The Herd.

“C’mere, chica.”

Jackie wraps his arms around her smaller frame, large arms encompassing her, threatening to crush the air from her lungs. Unlike the one-armed hug from his mother, this is overwhelmingly affectionate, surrounded by his warmth. She tries to think back the last time she was hugged like this, probably by her own mother, when she was fifteen? V freezes in his grasp, arms awkwardly hanging at her sides before she brings them up to lightly pat at his back. Not quite able to commit herself to hugging him back fully.

“…”

“Aye, Santa Madre. Is that how you hug, V?”

She shrugs within his hold, unable to sign while being pulled so close to him. He pulls away, leaving only a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong with how I hug?”

“Everything, don’t worry though, we’ll work on it,” he tells her.

“You’re weird.”

“So,” Jackie switches gears, “Sinclaire, you got a plan yet?”

“Sinclaire lives in the penthouse of a megabuilding. Intel says he should be there today, taking a day off tricking nomads I guess. Need to get in, figure out where the cargo is, and gut Sinclaire.”

“Got a netrunner who owes me a favor, she might be able to get in the subnet for the building, trip the cameras and get us in.”

“Seriously, you wanna waste that favor on me?”

“Eh, T-Bug will help me out again, even if she says otherwise.”

Jackie rolls his eyes and pulls out his holophone, his optics lighting up bright blue as he dials a number, like many folks he has his phone hooked up to his eyes. .

“Hey, Bug, calling in my favor.”

V can’t hear the other side of the conversation, shaking her bobblehead as she waits patiently. Bobble bobble, the dog’s head bounces up and down.

“We’re trying to get into Megabuilding 12, huh…oh I got myself a new partner, she’s cool, don’t worry. Just need you to hack the subnet, get us access, kill the cameras. Can you do that for me?”

A smirk comes across Jackie’s face and he rolls his eyes, before looking to V, “Bug says she wants to be patched through to you, ain’t helping someone she don’t know. “

“That’s fine,” she signs, “I can sync my holophone to my mask just like optics.”

Her mask will display the person just like optic tech can, she has it set so her avatar displays instead of her face so all they’ll see is a picture of the same expression on her mask, and they’ll hear the AI voice as she signs. Jackie taps at his phone as he sends the call to V’s phone as well. Her mask lights up to let her know of the incoming call and she taps accept on her phone, a little video square shows up in the corner of her vision.

T-bug is older than V, most folks are, with dark hair shaved down nearly to her scalp and dark makeup surrounding her big brown eyes. A skin tight black net runner suit clings to what’s visible of her body.

“Hello,” V signs, letting the AI voice resonate through the connection.

“No face, no voice; the hell are you dragging me into Jackie?”

“Stop worrying Bug, V is good people, she just needs to get back at a client who fucked her over. You said you owed me one.”

“Fine, but this goes sideways and I’m frying you both.”

“Not sure you can fry V, but alright. Let’s get our asses moving.”

They opt to walk to the megabuilding, not to leave any trace of traveling out there. It’s not far out and before too long they’re standing before the stairs up to the towering building. Megabuildings are impressive to say the least, giant ecosystems in their own right, rows of rows of the same apartments until you hit the top floors and lower floors dedicated to shops. V tucks her bobblehead into her dufflebag and puts her bag down in a corner by the stairs along with the guitar case, preferring to travel lightly as they axe Sinclaire, she doesn’t need to worry about bashing a guitar into a wall while she’s taking him down.

“You play?” Jackie asks her after a beat of silence, eyes on the guitar case.

“No.” Her answer is flat, monotone through the translator, and she offers no other explanation.

“…talking to you is really gonna be like pulling teeth, ain’t it?”

“You asked a question, I answered.”

“Nah, nah, it’s okay, I spill my soul, let you in my home, my family, my bed; and you give me half assed hugs and one word answers, I get it, chica.”

“There’s nothing to get!”

“No worries, I got time, I’ll know you better than you know yourself, before you…well, know it,” his grin drops as he realized he said ‘know’ entirely too many times in that sentence

“Didn’t think that sentence through, did ya?”

“Shaddup, let’s get this asshole.”

T-bug’s avatar and quick flashes of technological info flashes at a camera as they enter the megabuilding. The imagery showing through to Jackie and V while none of the hundred or so residents buzzing around are any the wiser to what’s about to go down.

“I’m in the subnet, I can see you on cams and cut off the feed to security. Getting you penthouse access now.”

“Efficient as fuck,” V can’t help but sign, forever amazed at netrunners in general, let alone just how quickly T-bug has managed to take care of this.

“Don’t work any other way, besides Megabuildings have shoddy security at best, this is nothing.”

“Honestly, you could hack a toaster and I’d be impressed, this stuff is way beyond my comprehension,” V admits as her and Jackie reach the elevator, T-bug’s avatar just flashing before it opens for them.

“Your mask can work for scanning, get a cyberdeck and I could send you some quickhacks and daemons; set you up with the basics.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, never hurts to learn.” Even if she’s fairly convinced she’s too stupid to figure it out.

“So, V’s managed to win you over already?” Jackie comments, grinning.

“More like I’m trying to make sure you don’t call me over petty shit again,” T-bug insists, though there’s no real malice to her voice.

V leans against the elevator wall as it lurches into movement, screens playing the news around them. She smiles behind her mask as Jackie grins, winking before he responds to T-bug.

“You say that but you and I both know you like being part of the team, Bug.”

“Oh, brother,” T-bug says with a roll of her eyes and V can’t help but crack up, she can’t really imagine the two being fast friends; a loud energetic solo and a stoic netrunner. It makes her wonder how exactly they met or what favor T-bug might owe Jackie.

“On your toes,” T-bug speaks up as the elevator comes to a stop, “two guards outside the penthouse door, I’ll run a quick hack to distract them.”

“Get their backs to us and we’ll drop ‘em quiet, T.”

The elevator door opens and there’s a clanging mechanical sound that rings out on the top floor halls. Jackie and V stay low as they leave the elevator; turning a corner to see two of Sinclaire’s guards. They’re looking over a vending machine that’s began to spew energy drinks out on the floor. She suddenly wishes she brought her duffle bag up with her, if only to take advantage and stockpile some drinks.

They creep up behind them, V points at the guard at the left then herself, making it clear she’ll take him and Jackie nods. She gets behind her mark and lurches forward, snapping his neck with a crunch, feeling him go limp under her touch. From her peripheral she watches as Jackie crushes his target’s windpipe with one heavy press of his forearm. Two guards in a pile they stand up straight and make a beeline to the penthouse door. Jackie takes out his pistol, making sure its loaded, while V gets her own gun out, the one she stole from the 6th Street fuck.

“You get a peek inside the penthouse, Bug?”

“No more muscle inside, Sinclaire is in his office, its second door on the left going past the living room.”

“’Preciate it, T-bug.” V signs as the penthouse door slides open. Jackie and her have weapons at the ready as they go in.

Sinclaire’s penthouse is bougie as they come, more proof for her theory that rich people just have no fucking taste. Tacky and gaudy decorations in a lavish open room plan. The disgusting lack of taste nearly distracts from what he has that is of legitimate value; a bar stocked with expensive booze and a tv nearly as wide as a car.

“Doesn’t seem like Sinclaire was hurting for eddies.”

“That’s fine, plenty to sell off if he already moved the cargo.”

“Place giving you sticky fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums as she rubs the dirty heel of her boot against the tacky zebra rug, satisfied when she leaves a smudge of filth in the white of it.

They move through the penthouse, finding the office door, Jackie doesn’t jump to do anything, instead giving her a nod. He’s letting her lead the charge, take care of her own business on her own terms and she’s beyond thankful for it. No desire to be subtle, V kicks the door in, slamming her boot into the door and watching it burst open under her force.

Sinclaire yells out, jolting at the sight of the two mercs bursting into his office. He’s still sat at his desk, hands raised in surrender as he looks at V, then his eyes drag over to Jackie. Staring down two barrels, he still finds it in him to sneer.

“V…see you managed to find yourself a friend in the trash.”

“Pair of crosshairs, both on ya, wouldn’t be mouthing off if I was you,” Jackie warns.

“Someone wi-“

“Already iced your muscle and got control of the cams,” V explains, smirking as his ego deflates, “the only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you tell me where the cargo is.”

“Seriously, all this over some ca-“

V cocks her gun and presses it to his forehead, finger on the trigger, held in one hand so she can still sign.

“Either I get the cargo or I get revenge; take your pick.”

“In the tank behind you.”

“Jackie.” She doesn’t want them to both turn their back on Sinclaire, slimy fuck that he is.

“What don’t trust me?”

She cracks her pistol across his cheek, the force of it knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. V steps on his back, gun still pointed at his dome as she presses her weight down on him. The pale of his cheek starts to turn purple and she feels just a touch of satisfaction knowing she’s dealt him even a fraction of the harm he dealt her.

“Iguana, lesser Antillean I think,” Jackie calls out and with the new position she’s put Sinclaire in she’s able to crane her neck to see. A large tank with a bright green lizard, black around his face, and red spines down it’s back.

“What!?” Her voice comes out along with her signing, distorting and layering over the artificial one, unable to contain her temper as she looks down at Sinclaire, pressing her foot down harder on him, “did you try to kill me over a fuckin’ lizard!?”

“You got any idea how much that thing’s worth?”

She pulls her foot off of him just to grab his shirt collar, dragging Sinclaire back up to his feet. V keeps one hand wrapped up in his collar and uses the other to press the gun against his back. She shoves him, he tries to resist, but despite their size difference V is easily able to out strength him. The former nomad drags him through his penthouse and out the door, across the hallway towards a door. Jackie’s steps echo through the building as he covers her, keeping a lookout for any new guards that may show. She kicks the door open from behind Sinclaire, the flights of stairs greeting them, one’s going down and the ones that go up to the roof.

“T-bug, roof?” V asks, voice still distorted and echoing through the filter of her mask, unable to sign with her hand full.

“No muscle up there, you’re good.”

“Look, we can talk about this V, w-“

“Move.” She jabs her gun into the small of his back, emphasizing her point. Sinclaire marches up the stairs as she forces him upwards, they reach the final door that leads out and V kicks it open like she did the last before making him walk through.

The former nomad forces him out onto the roof of the megabuilding, cool air hitting her fevered skin. They don’t stop moving, V’s eyes trained on the edge of the roof as she pushes him forward. He babbles, utterances and insistence that they can work this out; but she’s pissed and he has to pay. He’s not going to get away with it, no one is ever going to get away with treating her like this again.

Sinclaire stops moving, feet cemented in place just before he hits the edge, still trying to beg for his life as he resists her pushing on his back and neck.

“V, please, please we can ta-“

His voice cuts to a scream as she shoves him as hard as she can with both hands, knocking him off balance and sending him over the side of the building. She watches as his body plummets; a low whistle ringing out beside her.

“Long way down, ya know I heard folks die before they even hit the ground on falls like that.”

“That’s a shame,” she signs, shaking her head, she wanted him to feel it when his head hits the concrete.

“Feel any better?”

“Yeah, lets klep the lizard and run before someone asks questions.”

“No rush, pigs will just think he offed himself, happens all the time.”

“Good to know.”

“Still wouldn’t throw yourselves a party up there, NCPD might come check the area once it’s reported.” T-bug warns over the comms.

“Yeah, in like two days, chill Bug,” Jackie assures her as him and V leave the roof, taking the stairs back down to the penthouse.

There’s a weight off of V’s shoulders as she and Jackie return to Sinclaire’s penthouse office. She hefts a little sigh as she sees the bright green iguana and she’s reminded of Jackie’s earlier comment, called it a lesser antil-something.

“You know a lot about iguanas?” she asks him, he has Taco after all, he seems to like fish and lizards.

“Ah, saw something about ‘em on the science channel,” he looks to the iguana, calmly sitting in it’s tank, “you come a long way, my scaley friend.”

She can see a softness in Jackie’s smile, and she can’t blame him, the iguana is adorable. Tentatively, V lowers her hand down into the terrarium. She nudges her fingers against the lizard, feeling it’s bumpy skin that’s been warmed under a heat lamp. It’s tail flicks against her just before it turns to knock it’s face against her hand, nuzzling under the touch. She can’t help but smile, signing with her free hand to Jackie.

“Yeah, I’d kill me for him too.”

Jackie laughs as the iguana latches it’s claws into her hoodie sleeve, before climbing up the length of her arm. She lets out a soft little exclamation as the reptile makes it’s way to her shoulder, burrowing itself into the junction where her neck and shoulder meet.

“Awww cuddly fucker,” Jackie coos, smiling softly at V and her new snuggle buddy.

“He’s…probably worth a lot…” She slowly signs, unable to have much energy at the idea of selling him. V wants to make the money she meant to make, iguanas are rare, but…he’s very cute. And maybe she’s too much of a softie for animals.

“Yeah, a shame too, been wanting another pet, Taco’s got some age on him now…Had the name Manny all figured out too.”

“Are the two of you, serious?” T-bug comments, rolling her eyes in the holoview, “all of this and you want to keep the lizard?”

“I mean…I don’t want him to fall into the wrong hands,” V tries to defend herself.

“Iguanas have very specific needs, not just anyone can take care of ‘em,” Jackie adds.

“But you’re like, an iguana expert, basically.”

“Basically.”

“And I mean, if you and Mama Welles don’t mind having me around a while longer, I won’t need the cash right away.”

“Hell no, we don’t mind.”

“Just keep the damn thing and shut up,” T-bug scolds, sick of them trying to justify it.

“C’mon, let’s get Manny home and set up,” Jackie explains, unplugging the heat lamp so he can grab it along with the tank.

“We gotta keep him warm, right?”

“Yep, can’t let him get chilled.”

She nods, deciding to scoop up Manny and move him from her shoulder to putting him in her hoodie, hugging him close to her body over the fabric. V feels a bit like she’s cradling a baby, which isn’t terribly off base. Manny is now her child, she has decided. Jackie starts to carry the iguana stuff out of the penthouse, cutting through the kitchen with V trailing behind him.

V jumps and yelps, a loud popping noises and sparks flying out of a toaster as she walks past. She clutches Manny to her chest, the iguana clinging to her under her hoodie after the startle.

“Impressed?” T-bug asks, raising an eyebrow and V tries desperately to suppress her smile at the joke. A part of her mad that she was caught off guard by the trick, damn netrunners.

“I’m something, alright, scared the shit out of me.”

“Holy shit,” Jackie says with a smile teasing at the corner of his lips, “Bug making jokes, I must be dying.”

“Fuck off, cutting comms, now.”

“Talk to you later, Bug.”

“Hmm, maybe, we’ll see how I feel,” T-bug teases, “nice meeting you V.”

“Thanks again for the help, and the minor heart attack I guess.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m not sure if you mean the help or the heart attack.”

“Could go either way.” T-bug tells her before cutting communication, the woman’s face blinking from V’s mask. The merc laughs, softly at the exchange as she pushes the mask up onto her head. T-bug seems nice underneath it all, colder than Jackie, but most people are. The teddy bear of a guy is hard to compete with warmth wise.

She trails behind Jackie as the pair leave to the elevator. V leans against one wall of the elevator, against one of the bright screens that play ads, looking down at Manny tucked in her hoodie. He’s too cute. Jackie gives her a wink before he hits the button on the elevator and it lurches into movement.

“Once we get little mano here set up, we’ll head over to Misty’s.”

“Misty?” She fingerspells the name out, cocking her head to the side in question.

“My mainline,” he gets a dreamy little smile on his face, “mi amada, you’ll love her, she’s the sweetest thing”

“Oooooh~”

“Jesus fuck!” V yells out and jumps to hide behind Jackie at the sudden keening moan in her ear, holding Manny tighter to her chest.

“Pfff,” Jackie’s shoulders shake, before he busts out in laughter, clutching at his stomach.

Heat flushes up to V’s hairline as she sees the source of her distress, the screen she’d been leaning against now display an advertisement for Milfgaard some cougar website with a scantily clad older woman spreading her legs and moaning. She threw a man off a building and the scariest parts of her day have been a toaster and a porn ad.

“My god, you’re wound tighter than a clock, Jaina,” he teases her.

“Shut up.”

“We have got to loosen you up,” he tells her as they step out the elevator and back out the lobby of the megabuilding.

She carefully pulls her bag and her mother’s guitar case on her shoulders, making sure not to shuffle Manny too much before she trots off behind Jackie. There’s already cop cars pulling up behind the megabuilding as the two mercs disappear into the crowd.

Once Manny is settled in his tank next to Taco’s and V’s stuff is put aside in Jackie’s room; her new friend is pulling her back out of the house. He’s pure excitement accentuated by a wide grin as he shows her the city and god it has it’s problems, what place doesn’t, but there’s something to it. She could write a list of flaws from the corps to the trash, to the cruelty, to the poverty, and homelessness that run rampant there.

‘Hellooooo there Night City!’

But there’s an energy she can’t describe.

Night City has a magic to it, it’s the only way she can define it. Neon lights distract her from the trash that covers every corner. The constant thrum of music helping drown out the just as constant sound of gunfire. Something is magnetic and she understands why so many people are drawn to such a place.

‘Stanley, here with you and we got another day ahead of us in this city of dreams!’

She meets Misty; Jackie’s mainline in her candle lit shop for tarot readings and chakra realignments. The pair adorable as Jackie spins the blonde goth around in his arms. She says V has a nice aura but her chakras are misalligned, which sounds dumb to the merc, but Misty says it with such a sweet smile and V loses the will to tell her as much. Turns out the oil smell in Jackie’s blankets is diluted cedarwood oil that Misty gives him to keep away negative energy and aura blockages.

Misty reads her tarot cards not long after they meet, her cards frayed and worn, as she tells V what the hanged man card means. V doesn’t buy into any of it; but Misty is kind and earnest, the merc willing to entertain her eccentricities if only to say in Misty’s company. V learns her aura is a bright cyan blue, is given a chrysocolla crystal which provides energy for a fresh start, and lavender oil to encourage relaxation and sleep. How Misty knew her sleep struggles, she has no idea, but the lavender does help her relax so why look a gift horse in the mouth. She signs a thanks while tucking the rollerball of oil into her pocket.

‘Ooh, I love this town!’

V meets Vik the same day, trying to hide her nerves at being in a clinic as Jackie and the ripperdoc playfully punch at each other. He’s a sweet older man, tattoos and jewelry showing his love for boxing. He doesn’t even get mad the first time he tries to even look over her and she has a panic attack, accidentally kicking him in the groin, before the ripperdoc glove can even touch her. She apologizes like her life depends on it, hands aching by the time she’s done signing it. He laughs it off, laughs harder when she jokes about not getting candy for being a good patient.

The next time he tries, he stops himself. Face contorting when he’s able to get as far as a diagnostic report this time, seeming stressed by the results. He asks about her autoimmune disease, diagnostics picking up on her overactive antibodies. She can nearly see his heart sinking, like she’s his own child and not just a stranger who freaked out on his table one time. He’s horrified to know her condition has gone completely untreated, that her fear of doctors kept her from getting the treatment she needed. She doesn’t explain where the fear comes from, not wanting to recount her experiences with the clan doctor, the fear of having treatments done against her will. He warns her that while it’s not attacking her eyes or joints as aggressively, overtime and without any treatment it could take the eyes next, the muscles, the joints, the organs. Her entire body could with time destroy itself. Before he fathoms giving her implants, he puts her on immunosuppressants. Making her sure her health is stable, that her body has calmed in attacking itself . Only then, do they go back to the idea of installing cyberware, she even gets a lolly along with her shot and pills; Vik leaning into her dumb joke.

She takes the personal link and neural slots well, cyberdeck and the like added. But the idea of losing her eyes is too much, he says he’ll work with her. He works with her lot, both on the money and with her own discomfort. Vik doesn’t press a “fix” for her hearing, instead beefing up her hearing aids so she has more control over the volume and so she can tune it to police scanners; not that she has any intention of doing contract work for the pigs, but it’s good to know what they’re up to if nothing else. He doesn’t even get mad when she nearly breaks her personal link a day after him installing it, unable to stop playing with the damn thing.

‘Love it like you might love a mother who popped you out on the steps of an orphanage once and now stops to ask you if you got a smoke for her!’

In a few weeks he’s gotten her contacts that work like optics and helped her fashion a choker with the same AI translator of sign language; for when she chooses to ditch the mask. He also has candy, leaning into her dumb joke, and for the first time she feels like she can trust a doctor. And she doesn’t go anywhere else, even if she catches a bullet in Pacifica, she makes Jackie haul her ass to Watson to see Vik.

She soon learns that she and Jackie just work. There’s a synergy to their partnership, an understanding and balance that shows in their merc work. He’s stronger than her, knows the streets and people of Night City better than she could ever hope. But she’s stealthier, quieter, and cleaner in her work. She leads the charge when dropping targets quietly and he runs the show when they’re going in guns ablazing. Though he always tries to keep her safe, perhaps out of care and perhaps out of a sense of obligation. It’d be smothering if it weren’t endearing.

‘Every new day here, means another hundred new arrivals!’

It’s not all cherries on sundaes, the two don’t always get along and butt heads more than once. Mostly over gigs; money vs morality. She won’t take corp or cop cash, unless it’s stolen; they want work they can find some other gonk. Jackie says cash is cash, no matter who’s paying. She gets the pragmatism but can’t do it, shutting down a fixer the second she learns their money is coming from Biotechnica. Jackie isn’t happy, but he respects the call. They agree to disagree, if he wants to take those gigs, he can do them without her. He doesn’t take it in the end, she wonders if he doesn’t want to solo it or if she managed to get him thinking about where his money comes from.

“But only half these gonks will survive a year and that’s if it’s a good one.”

They find a steady routine and flow; working gigs, grabbing lunch with Misty and Vik, more gigs, dinner with Mama Welles, maybe a few more jobs and maybe hitting the bars to spend the eddies they just made. Regular trips to the black market to pick up some ammo and firearms. He has a date with Misty about every week, something V always takes the time to mock. But it’s all in good fun. Some night her and Jackie fall asleep on the couch in a heap watching movies, waking up with Mama Welles having thrown a blanket over them. Other nights she spends at a Kabuki motel, wrapped up in whoever she picked up at the bar.

She experiences her first braindance, loses a tooth when they sneak into the Riot nightclub, gets in another police chase, and sees her first pair of Mantis Blades when they’re coming for her head. V realizes Mama Welles runs the Coyote Cujo and gets better introduced to the staff there; including a busboy named Jake who finds his way into her pants quite easily.

‘And why do these peeps come to NC?’

And then a month has gone by and she has no idea where it went.

V spends her saved back money on a car before she rents an apartment; sick of using the train. Nothing like trying to move a dead body on public transit. Jackie helps her pick it out, the car sold to her by Padre, because every fixer apparently doubles as a car salesman. It only seemed right for her to buy from him and to get Jackie’s approval before she made the purchase. Her bobblehead sits on the dashboard proudly.

She helps Jackie pick out a new deck of tarot cards for Misty, spending an entire day browsing mystical shops before they find the perfect one. Misty adores them and gives the mercs readings as soon as she opens the box, feeling a connection to the cards.

‘Well, to be street samurai like Morgan Blackhand and Waylon Boa Boa!”

Misty and Vik hear her voice, no mask, for the first time on a sunny day after she accidentally launched herself down the stairs in front of the doc’s clinic in an office chair. Laughing as Vik asked her if she was stupid and telling him, “yes.” Because who is she to deny the truth?

In between gigs, Jackie drags her down to Jig Jig street, the most perverse section of Night City. Sex shops, strippers, and joytoys as far as the eye can see. He gives her hell for the way cheeks flush red, they’re there for fun and not business so the mask is off, she’s still not used to the brazen displays of sexuality a person finds in the city. But, despite her awkwardness, she’s far from opposed to it.

‘The greater the risk, the bigger the bounty!”

She childishly demands Vik and Jackie teach her how to box when she finds out there’s a club for it that they both attend. V manages to last a round with Jackie, but only by being fast enough not to get hit, taunting him until he gets a punch in on the second round and knocks her ass to the ground. He apologized a thousand times but all she could do was laugh. Misty has it on camera, as she should.

Misty shows V her little rooftop get away on top of her shop, her zen garden with plastic chairs where they can spend time together when they need a nicer view during lunch, Misty, Jackie, Vik, and V eat their Chinese food takeout or whatever they’ve decided on up there. Once or twice V finds herself going up there alone at night, just to take in the way the neon lights of the city hit the black sky. The city may have been named after its founder, but she finds it more apt to describe when the city is at its most beautiful.

She also gets to witness a rare spat between Misty and Jackie when she catches the merc’s dangling a target over the side of said roof to get information. Jackie letting go of the guy to try to apologize for ruining the aura of the roof; while V struggled to hold him up…and eventually dropped him. But Jackie bought Misty some sage to cleanse the roof, so all well that ends well.

‘Or so they say!’

Another month gone by like she blinked it away.

T-bug starts to work with them again, off and on. Jackie told her she only owed him a favor and didn’t work with him long term. But she reconnects, helping get them more jobs and helping the jobs run even smoother with a trusted security expert on their side. She teaches V how to use quick hacks, but the merc still prefers blades and baseball bats. Mostly just using them to blind folks before she stabs them.

She catches a bullet in Santo Domingo, a 6th street member trying to settle a score and she refuses to go to anyone but Vik. The merc holds her hand to her wound as Jackie drives them to Watson. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Vik mad, he patches her up but he scolds her for hours after, that she should have seen the nearest doc. That she could have died. And she has no excuse, but she knows she’d do it again.

‘But you can only be a major league player for so long!”

A gig drags V and Jackie out to a supposedly haunted old building; Misty tags along, nearly bouncing at the prospect of contacting spirits. V learns that Jackie is afraid of ghosts and spends the entire job trying to entice the supposed specters into eviscerating her. They all leave unscathed though Jackie looked on the verge of tears.

T-bug hacks a Militch training datashard at some point and V decides to try to play through it, interested in learning any new tips or tricks that could help her. The netrunning lessons are the most useful, Bug managing to help even an idiot like V figure out how to do some quick hacks and use daemons. She also gains a new appreciation for being called maggot by her friend. Bug definitely had way too much fun play sergeant.

During a job, Jackie and V hear a man yelling into his phone demanding to know if the person on the other end fucked his wife. They lose their minds laughing and lose the person they were tracking for a good hour. Misty and Vik think they’ve gone nuts when they spend the rest of the day mimicking the stranger to make each other laugh; seeing who can scream “did you fuck my wife!?” the loudest without shame. Jackie wins.

‘The faster you live, the faster you burn out!’

Vik catches her eyeing the projectile launcher system implant; essentially a rocket launcher that goes into the forearm. She’d love to have that sheer amount of firepower at will, plus unlike other weapon implants it’s only on one arm, less intrusive for the cyberware shy merc. The ripper offers to install it for her on credit and she nearly chokes, amazed that he’d be so kind, maybe he just trusts her when she says she doesn’t go to any other doc. But she refuses, not willing to take advantage of his good graces. Deciding instead to save up once she gets the apartment.

She meets Cecelia, a waitress at Tom’s Diner, an older woman with pretty eyes. Jackie nearly rolls his eyes out of his head when V starts flirting, giving her even more shit about V’s taste in older men and women after she gets Cecelia in bed. Along with Jake, she becomes one of her rare repeat bedmates. They’re both significantly older than the young merc, each with children, and not interested in anything deeper than rolling around in the sheets, after all anyone with eyes can see V’s not stepparent material. There’s no danger of them wanting more, so V’s happy to return to them when she wants something more familiar than a one-night stand.

‘If you don’t get a bullet to the brain first!’

Misty gets confused when V signs Jackie’s name sign, instead of fingerspelling it. Optics getting the translation off and muddled. So, the merc is left explaining the inability of optic tech to translate name signs due to their highly individualized nature. Jackie’s name sign to her is only that, his name sign to her. It’s not mind reading tech…yet. Her cheeks flush red when she has to explain that Jackie’s name sign for her is a combination of the sign for the letter ‘J’ and the sign for ‘brother. Fingerspelling J, then bringing that fist with the pinky out onto an “L” shape formed by her other hand. Jackie pulls her into a hug immediately after, nearly crushing the air out of her lungs. She’s less timid during this hug, he tells her she’s getting better, but it still needs work.

Vik, Misty, and Jackie take to trying to learn more sign language; letting V teach them whenever they all find a spare moment. Mama Welles even uses a few, picking them up from V and Jackie. The merc tears up, none of them are fluent, but they’re trying. Trying to learn for her and she’s so rarely had anyone care enough to try for her; her sister and mother the only one of the nomad family who knew it fluently, who took the time to learn. Ava learned a few then stopped bothering. Years of no one caring enough to learn for her, but even with all the tech in the world to get around it, they still try. She doesn’t explain her tears, and no one makes her, Misty just gently rubbing her back as they continue with the lesson.

Jackie helps her with Spanish in return, just as they talked about. Some things are intentionally taught to her, other just picked up. Pendejo is forever ingrained in her head. Though, a part of her wonders how much use it really will be, if maybe Jackie just likes that she has to talk during these lessons. She’s become more comfortable with talking with him verbally. It happens naturally, over their time together. That when it’s just him and her, she’ll find herself talking along with her sign language. But, she’s still tight-lipped when she ventures outside her new social circle. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have it in her to be completely verbal.

Another month gone…

“NC’s Legends! Know where you’ll find most of them?”

Taco passes away, the mini-shark was an older pet even when Jackie first got him. He knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. They hold a makeshift funeral for Taco, Misty and V hugging Jackie as he cries. Mama Welles makes his favorite foods for dinner and V stays with him through a movie night. It doesn’t make things magically okay, he hurts and he grieves the lost of his friend. But he’s not alone and they fall asleep on the couch in a heap. He spends the next night at Misty’s and V finds herself wishing that Misty and Mama Welles got along better, that they all could have been there to support Jackie that first night.

She knows he’s back on the upswing when they find an abandoned grocery cart and he offers to push her around in it. V calls it a dumb idea than promptly climbs inside. Jackie gets a long running start and heavy push of his foot before putting both feet up, letting them ride out the distance, giggling like children. Then they hit a hill and flip at the bottom of it, on the ground staring at the stars and giggling like concussed children.

At some point in the month a client invites them to an orgy after they drop off the goods they were asked to steal. V finally gets her revenge for Jig Jig street, Jackie’s face turning red all the way to the tips of his ears. He refuses and runs to tell Misty as soon as he can, as if even getting the invite makes him feel guilty. Jackie’s the only one who ever finds out about whether V went, a secret she likes to keep close to her heart.

V gets…acquainted with her first exotic partner, that is to say someone who’s had animal based body mods done. She’s seen the cat ears and tails and nearly got bit by a ganger with fangs; but the full anthropomorphic furry mods took her by surprise. Some people played Sonic as a kid and just never looked back, she supposes. Not that she can judge, she did spot the heavily modded bunny exotic girl across a bar and decide why not. It was an interesting night, the fur took getting use to, and she thinks the girl was a little sick of V petting her ears after a while.

Her and Jackie find an illegal firearms dealer, her best friend finding a pair of pistols he loves. They’re embellished with gold and he proudly brandishes them, spinning them in his hands and giving her a grin a mile wide.

And another month finds it’s end.

“The Graveyard.”

She’s fallen into the habit of using her mask during her work and using the choker with the contacts during her personal time. It keeps business a bit more separate and she feels more secure in the hiding of her identity this way, most fixers and clients don’t know what V looks like. not that she worries much about The Herd anymore. The days blink by faster and faster without her ever thinking that her former family might have an inkling of where she is. Despite the polluted air, she’s breathing easier.

There’s a few rumors among mercs and fixers about what her deal is, why she hides her face. From burns, cyberware gone wrong, to some mutated twin stuck on her head. She encourages them, finding each new crazy idea funnier than the last. Her favorite is just telling people she was born with a bad case of ugly and seeing their reaction. None of them are any the wiser when they pass her unmasked on the street, thinking her just some other Night City citizen and not the same merc.

“Matters not where you’re from.”

In her six month in Night City, she finally gets an apartment to herself. Not wanting to have spent half a year mooching off of the Welles family. Even if Mama Welles insists it’s no trouble, that she’s a delight to have around and her stress cleaning has done wonders for their home. She still can’t bring herself to spend the rest of her day living off their good graces. Mama Welles holds her face and kisses the top of her head before she leaves, making her promise to come see her again.

Her apartment is in a megabuilding in Watson, one of the worst districts in Night City, though better than Pacifica she supposes. She’s on the eighth floor, the buildings all get nicer the higher up you get and have at least twenty levels. It is far from grand but it’s hers. Jackie and Misty help her move in, as well as decorate. Putting pictures and fairy lights up over her enclosed bed, another strand of lights across the opening for it and over top of the shuddered windows. And install a sensor on the door that will make a bright red light shine if someone knocks, so she can see it if she has her hearing aids out. The apartment only comes with a microwave and vending machine as far as food goes, no kitchen or fridge. But there is a stash room for weaponry because guns are more important than getting to cook for herself. But beggars can’t be choosers, Misty even brings some purifying crystals and burns sage to keep the energy clean even if the apartment floor isn’t.

She gets to know some of her neighbors and people who run businesses on the services floor of the megabuilding. Wilson runs the Second Amendment gun store on the floor below hers, he’s a curmudgeon of an older guy who runs away most customers with his consistent yelling about respecting firearms. But he doesn’t seem to mind her, maybe because his yelling didn’t scare her away.

“Matter not where you start.”

Brooks is an enby with green cat ears on the floor above her sells V edibles, pot brownies and cookies whenever she has the spare eddies. It helps her sleep a little easier on nights where she doesn’t have a partner and eases some of her anxiety that still pops up every now and again.

The guy who lives in the apartment just below her own is a beat cop named Barry. Something she learns when she’s playing music with her hearing aids out, top volume so she can feel the vibrations rattling her bones and shaking the walls. It apparently shook his walls too and he came knocking on the door. She didn’t get a chance to read his lips when she answered the door, but judging by the drop on his face when she started signing, she suspects he might have been demanding to know if she was ‘fuckin’ deaf or something’. Despite his job, he’s an alright guy and they find themselves talking a few times after laughing off the exchange. If he quit, maybe she’d consider calling him a friend someday.

“What matters here is the walk you walk.”

Things in Night City are good, really good for her. There’s conflict and struggles along the way, she collects new scars. The bullet in Santa Domingo, a mantis blade catching her gut, wolvers skimming her back, and bit by a ganger with vampire mods just to name a few. Night City rattles and rolls her, some days she craves the clean air and open road of the Badlands. She’d be lying if she said otherwise. But there’s an ease in the city, in the people she’s found that make it feel like another home.

She’s laughing and smiling more than she has ever before. V’s able to joke and play around, find a sense of humor and excitement in her life rather than just fear. She’s free to do her merc work, set her own rules and still make a mark. Her and Jackie are steadily carving their place into the ecosystem of the city. She’s showing her strength, her capability, her resilience. She’s not defective, she’s a merc on the rise, a couple fixers go to. She’s got money in her pocket; a roof and food she got with said money.

And she’s got a family, a real one, not made of blood but love. At least she loves them and she hopes they’ve managed to find something in her worth loving. In a dirty city of neon, she managed to find her place in this world, not where she expected but she’s exactly where she needs to be.

‘In Night City, the city of dreams!’

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fem v #silverv #johnny silverhand #jackie welles #i hope its not disingenuous to tag johnny when he hasn't shown up yet #can you feel the sun?#aidan becker #aidan v becker

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ohblackdiamond · 4 years ago

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little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 16 of 29)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19 part 20 part 21 part 22 part 23 part 24 part 25 part 26 part 27 part 28 part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul confronts painful truths in the car; Gene confronts Peter.

Paul drove for half an hour at least without a destination in mind. He only stopped to get gas, handing the attendant the last five-dollar bill in his wallet. It didn’t even fill the tank completely, but he was past caring.

He felt like he was going to be sick. His eyes were watering up, and he blinked back the tears. He hadn’t cried this whole time, not since Gene had come. He wasn’t going to cry now.

Gene didn’t understand. He’d never understand. That was to his credit, really, not having any idea, thinking it was some bullshit about him being afraid, or not wanting to be touched. Poor, stupid Gene, who wasn’t stupid at all, who just had an idiot for a bandmate and a best friend, an idiot who’d decided a taste of what he wanted was better than nothing at all.

Except he’d been fooling himself. Just like Carol. Paul couldn’t have been happy with a taste. He’d started to realize that as soon as Gene had agreed to fuck him. But it had really hit him when Gene had joked about the photo album. Just—just sticking him in there with all those girls, one more nude Polaroid out of hundreds. Gene wanted him. Sure he did. Wanted him just exactly as much as he wanted anyone else with a pair of tits, just long enough for a lay. Just as long as Paul himself had wanted Carol or any other groupie. Once Gene had him, once the mystery was gone, the curse resolved, there’d be nothing left. Not even residual interest. The only difference was, they’d have to keep seeing each other after. Sitting down at business meetings. Posing for pictures. Leaning into the same mics. Applying makeup backstage. He’d have to live the rest of his life with Gene right there, knowing he’d never want to be with him again.

He’d been sickened by the thought. He’d wanted to be strong enough to turn Gene down, to—value himself enough to not want someone who’d only want him once, but he hadn’t been. Every time he’d felt like saying something, he’d swallowed it. On the bed, he’d tried to approach it clinically, to hurt himself less, just a series of actions with nothing attached to them. He’d thought Gene might not even sense something was wrong, since he was getting what he wanted, the image at least of a girl stripping him down and promising herself to him, like some old fairy tale. Three days of toting him around, rewarded with an easy lay and a broken spell. But for all Paul had insisted he was fine, Gene hadn’t believed him.

Paul had kept on anyway. Outright begged. And Gene had kept turning him down like the gentleman he wasn’t, for his sake, for the band’s sake, for whatever.

Better this way anyway. No hard feelings. He’d go to a bar just like Gene had suggested. Get a guy to fuck him, turn back and leave. Gene would get to go home knowing KISS had its frontman back in tour-worthy condition. Paul would get to keep his house and his money and maybe even that visit with his family. And in the end, they’d all go back on the road and forget any of this ever happened. Enough women, enough sane women, Playmates and catalog models, no more starfuckers, and he could convince himself he hadn’t wanted Gene at all, like that was just another side-effect of the curse.

His stomach lurched in protest. He wasn’t yet enough of a bastard to lie to himself that grotesquely. He’d wanted Gene years before he’d woken up in this body.

He kept thinking as he weaved through the late-night traffic. Kept thinking, even though he didn’t want to. Their trip to the mountains lingered caramel-thick in his mind. He’d been eighteen. Winter of ’70. He’d skipped school for the chance to hitchhike again with Gene, a fun but pointless trip in the mountains with some chicks they’d met prior. One that Gene seemed to dig, though she wasn’t pretty at all. They’d ended up in the rundown house the girl was renting, spending the night there, and cold as it was, Gene had a plan to at least warm himself up.

He’d told Gene not to try to make it with the girl. She might not like you. She might get pissed-off and kick us both out, and then where would we be? And Gene had nodded along, but about an hour later, Paul had woken up among the moth-eaten blankets on the floor to Gene gone and the muffled sound of talking from a door or two away. An awful mechanical screech, like a microphone on the fritz. And, a few moments later, the sounds of grunts and low moans. He’d gotten the girl after all. A good time, it had sounded like. Back then, Paul hadn’t had anything to compare it to but his own jackoff sessions. He’d been desperately virginal, never making it past second base with any girlfriend.

Traveling back home the next afternoon, tired, cold, and hungry, Paul’d asked what that screeching sound was, even though he knew already.

(oh, that was just her hearing aid)

(her hearing aid?) He’d repeated it dumbly.

(yeah. it went off on accident. she was deaf.)

(oh.)

He’d waited on Gene to comment. Expected something smartassed. Feared a complaint, or something, something worse, something that would tear into his guts and rot their friendship. Less than a year, that was all he’d known Gene, and Gene was the only friend he’d ever really had. He couldn’t lose him. But Gene hadn’t said anything else.

(was it okay?)

(yeah. it was fine. we had a great time.)

(i—not that. was it… you didn’t mind, did you?)

(what was there to mind?)

(that she was deaf.) And then, spilling out like a tipped pitcher of water— (you didn’t think… you didn’t think it was bad, did you, you don’t think—you don’t think people like that are—retarded, or crippled—)

(why would I think any of that?)

(i don’t know.)

(she was just deaf, stan. that’s all.)

(what’s the matter?)

He’d told him then. All of a sudden, a flurry of words that just seemed to pour out of nowhere at all. Eighteen, skipping school, carrying nothing but a guitar case—feeling more nakedly vulnerable than he ever had before—he’d told him he was deaf in one ear. He’d told him he didn’t even have that ear. Gene’s eyes had gone to the side of his face, unconsciously, and Paul had cupped his hand against his temple as if Gene could possibly see through the thick mass of dark brown curls.

He’d waited on Gene to say something well-meaning and trite, or something cruel. He could think of a million possibilities—the hell are you doing, trying to play music, trying to sing, when you can’t half-hear—but he hadn’t. His arm had wrapped around Paul’s back, his hand on his waist, and he’d said five words.

(that’s okay, stan)

(you’re okay)

That was the start. That was the start. Seven years and it hadn’t gone away.

It had taken so little to want Gene, that was the hell of it. Gene who’d had nothing to recommend himself back then but half a bachelor’s degree and a lot of nerve, Gene who back then didn’t even have the decency to be attractive, conventionally or otherwise. Gene who didn’t even have any idea. But the feeling had prickled through him all the same, scratching into his soul like the most saccharine of lyrics. It was so damn pathetic that he’d never stopped being disgusted at himself. Barely any better than Carol. One low moment, one revelation. That wasn’t why you were supposed to love someone, that wasn’t—

He took a sharp breath. Fumbled for the Dairy Queen napkins, dabbed at his eyes and smeared away the snot on his face. In the dark like this, he was lucky he hadn’t unconsciously reverted to one of his old cab routes. He was lucky he’d found himself in one of the parking lots near CBGB.

Too dressed up for their clientele, sure. Sure. No big rockstar holding his hand and shutting up every catcall before it was even said. That was all right. He shut off the engine and got out of the car, dropping his keys and wallet in the pocket of his fake leather jacket. It was a weird ensemble, the punkish jacket with the nice dress—how much had he made Gene spend on all that—how much—he couldn’t think about that now—but that didn’t matter, either. He had what he needed. It was late enough that there wasn’t even a line at the door. No reason to hesitate before striding through, back to the pounding bass and flashing lights of another place he didn’t belong. No reason to hesitate besides his own cowardice, and the emptiness of being without a hand to hold. No reason at all.

Gene had thought, fleetingly, that Paul might turn around and come back. Five minutes passed, then ten, before he realized he was wrong.

Wrong all the way around. Wrong in how he’d treated him, from the time he’d walked onto his front porch up until right now. He’d directed everything for Paul. Set up appointments. Planned out their trajectory every single day. Thinking that was best. Thinking Paul was too shaken up to do anything about his situation by himself. And Paul had just… Paul had just swallowed down any real protests and let him do it. Just let Gene railroad him over and over.

He’d hurt him and he hadn’t meant to. He’d eroded Paul’s self-respect. Made Paul rely on him. Monetarily, emotionally, sexually. Like Paul was some hopeless princess in a tower, unable to take anything into his own hands, instead of his friend, instead of his best friend. How awful did that have to feel?

He wasn’t going to go after him. He’d let Paul have control, finally, the way he should have all along. Let him dictate how to unravel the curse, and who with, because Gene couldn’t do it for him. The one thing Paul had really asked of him and he hadn’t managed it.

She’s too sweet for all this bullshit. That was what that chick at CBGB had said. Paul wasn’t sweet at all. He was a neurotic mess no matter what body he occupied. He was a vain, pigheaded bag of nerves, nothing like the swaggering Starchild or the cute little flirt he was probably putting on for some guy in a bar right now. He was…

He was…

Gene lay on Paul’s bed for awhile. Paul’s side of it, even. Greeted with the same smells as during the dance, Aquanet and Aramis and maybe something else, some heady kind of pheromone. Paul probably wasn’t going to smell like that once he came back. That was okay. He’d feel better, back to himself. They’d both feel better. Back to business as usual with no regrets. Paul’d done the right thing. If he lay there long enough, he could convince himself of that much.

The phone rang, driving away Gene’s thoughts. He answered it—stupidly hoping to hear Paul’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey.”

“Gene?” It was Peter, harried as ever. “You’re both home?”

“No. Paul went out.”

“Paul went out? Where the hell did he go?” Peter’s sloshed voice was hard to hear over the din of voices and music. He must have still been at Studio 54. “Listen, Ace said he saw him in the basement, said he wasn’t back to normal.”

“That’s right.”

“Said he ran off from him! What happened? What’d that girl tell him?”

“She told him how to reverse the curse.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what Ace said. But he didn’t say how. Is Paulie back yet?”

“I said he went out—”

“Is he back yet?”

Gene hesitated.

“No.”

“You let him go out alone as a chick?” The horror in Peter’s voice could have smashed a windshield. “Jesus Christ, Gene! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“He wanted to fix it—”

“I don’t care what he wanted to fix! It’s New York at two in the fucking morning! That poor kid’s a sitting duck!”

“Pete—”

“You fucking know better than this! Chicks are vulnerable, you asshole! And Paul—”

“Pete, don’t scream at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do! Paul’s stupid anyway! You remember that fucking photoshoot for Hotter than Hell! He was passed out on the fucking bed! Drank too much ’cause everyone else was! And that guy, he almost—”

“I know.”

“Then fucking get him!” Peter was spewing the words. “I can’t—me and Ace, we can’t—you gotta take care of him! You’re supposed to!”

“I don’t know where he went.”

“Then find out!” Peter cursed loudly. “Can’t be that hard! Fuck, I thought he meant something to you! I thought you—”

“I’ll get him! I’ll get him.” Gene’s heartrate was going too fast. “Do… do you want me calling you up at the club? Are you going to be there?”

“I dunno.” Peter said something Gene couldn’t discern, probably to whoever was nearby. “Call me at home. Leave Lydia a message if you gotta.”

“Okay.”

Peter hung up on him without a goodbye. Gene guessed he didn’t deserve one. His throat hurt, all of a sudden. Stupid. Stupid. This wasn’t—he called up the chauffeur again, sweat smearing his fingers. He didn’t know where Paul was. There were hundreds, thousands of bars he could’ve stopped at. Paul knew his way around New York way better than he did, from those years as a cabbie. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

“Where to, Gene?”

“CBGB,” he said, finally. “Just take me to CBGB.”

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #gene simmons #gene simmons x paul stanley #peter criss

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jaeknightorbats · 5 years ago

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Tunnel Caprica [M]

Pairings: Baekhyun x Sehun (SeBaek)

Ratings: NC-17

Genre/AUs: Smut, dark romance, slice of life

Description: It was a normal day for convenience store worker Byun Baekhyun when Sehun—a wealthy looking man—entered the store, only getting overdosed by drugs afterwards. It was the encounter that would change Baekhyun’s life. It was the encounter that introduced him to a world that should never exist in this already problematic world.

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, substance use, drug overdose, alcohol, and strong language

Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (NEW!)

Synopsis: Tunnel Caprica connects two cities under the huge and long mountain ranges of the country Ioca [a-yo-ka], making it one of the longest tunnels in the world with a distance of nearly 40 kilometers. However, people choose to drive the 3-hour long pass than driving through the tunnel, because driving through the tunnel can be claustrophobic—an hour drive with nothing but repeating images of the never ending tunnel. But through the tunnel also hides the entrance to another world that Baekhyun is yet to find out.

Part 1

Word count: 3.9k

Just a single response—a single response that could make everything better.

Or could make matters worse.

It had not been long since his girlfriend replied—five hours outmost. But five hours felt like a day to him. Getting used to quick replies, it’s making him crazy as to why he wasn’t getting any response even after sending her messages and giving her calls.

She’s mad.

He couldn’t help but think, and it’s making him weak. He doesn’t like anyone getting mad at him, especially if it was her.

Ple—

He stopped typing. He shouldn’t bother her, she’s at work. He shouldn’t annoy her. She must be annoyed. He wasn’t at work—it was his rest day, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his phone. Nothing worse than that—overthinking.

He dug his face on to his phone, praying to the gods to make a miracle for him.

He waited, and he waited. Still got no response.

Maybe staring at the screen would make a difference. He stared at every icon he could see, scrolled from side to side.

Why am I lying to myself?

Nearly 30, he was, but he could be still naïve at times. He was a high school dropout with divorced parents.

What divorce? They have no money for such things, his parents only lived separately, and things were too confusing for him. He ran away from his home at the age of 17, and started to find ways he could live on his own. Things never worked out for him, still broke at the age of twenty-nine. He’s renting a small, cheap apartment, and he had a third-hand car that needed constant maintenance. He worked at a convenience store near where he was staying, only a 15 to 20-minute walk.

Byun Baekhyun considered himself as a good-for-nothing, and was only working to survive. The only thing that was making him somewhat happy was his girlfriend’s affection. Now, the person giving what he wanted was mad at him.

He took a deep, hopeless breath as he dropped his head down to his table from where he was sitting. At the brink of losing hope, his heart jumped when his forehead felt the vibration of the table coming from his phone.

He didn’t check from who it was, and immediately clicked the notification and read the message.

Disappointed, he was, when the text message was from his carrier, reminding him that his phone bill’s due was approaching.

This girl, now this. His grip to his phone loosen, feeling weak—he could hear his heart beating. He felt like he was losing his mind.

A picture of his wallet flashed through his head, remembering exactly how much money he still had before his next pay. $43.05.

His phone bill usually cost $45.

He didn’t want to double check his wallet, it was too heartbreaking for him. He recently spent most of his money buying his girlfriend a nice dinner and a new phone—a phone she didn’t like that’s why they’re in a fight. She wanted an iPhone. He couldn’t afford such phone. He himself was sticking to his 3-year-old phone. As long as he could send his girlfriend a message, he was fine with any phone.

He pressed his eyes closed, thinking what should he do to pay his dues and to make his girl happy. His feet couldn’t stop tapping—he couldn’t think of a solution.

“Money can’t buy happiness?” he muttered to himself. “Bullshit.”

He stood up from his chair, threw his phone to the sofa just to release some stress—even a tiny bit. He needed a break.

He started walking circles in his small place, thinking of different things how to earn enough money to, at least, pay the bills.

Baekhyun never turned his head so fast when he saw his phone screen flashed from his peripheral view, hearing the vibration from the sofa. His feet dragged him fast towards the sofa and his hand grabbed the phone.

Disappointed again, it was from his friend, Park Chanyeol.

Im coming 2 ur place.

Baekhyun felt so pissed. He was hoping it was from someone better—his girlfriend. “I don’t need you to come,” he muttered to his phone.

Subsequently, a rapid knuckle impatiently knocked on Baekhyun’s door. It paused for a quick while, then started knocking again.

Baekhyun already knew who it was. He stomped his way to the door to stop the noise.

The grin on Chanyeol’s face faded, cocking his brow after he saw Baekhyun. “What’s with the face?” He made his way into Baekhyun’s place without permission and went straight to Baekhyun’s living room.

Baekhyun followed Chanyeol with a glare as he closed the door. “What are you doing here?”

What a stupid question—Baekhyun realized immediately. Chanyeol only visited Baekhyun for one thing, and one thing only—sniff drugs.

“I’m telling you, bro. You should break up with Yuri. She’s just using you,” Chanyeol said as he was pulling out his cheap snuff set from his jacket, placing it on the glass coffee table afterwards.

Chanyeol already knew what was bothering his friend, especially when Baekhyun made a face like what he was wearing. Nothing else bothered Baekhyun but women. Sometimes, Chanyeol knew Baekhyun doesn’t know how to straighten his priorities just for the sake of a woman.

But Baekhyun doesn’t like anyone minding his own business, so Chanyeol only watched him be stupid.

Baekhyun ignored him, and changed the topic. “Hey, when are you going to take home your shot. It’s taking a lot of space on my fridge.” He only had a mini fridge, it could only fit a few drinks and few foods.

“For as long as I don’t need it,” Chanyeol blatantly replied. “I don’t want my mom seeing that, she’ll start asking questions.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You already said that.”

Chanyeol still lived with his parents since he spent a lot of his money on the things he liked to snort.

Baekhyun pulled a chair on the dining table, and watched his friend do his thing.

Chanyeol carefully released a portion of his powered drug from a tiny airless balloon on Baekhyun’s table. Chanyeol pulled his wallet out and took a card to collect the scattered powder on the table and made a thin line with it. He licked the remaining powder that was on his card. Then, took his already-rolled-up bill from his kit. His nose made a loud noise as he snorted the powder. He twitched both sides of his nose and sniffed again, just to make sure his brain received that well. His eyes slightly became watery from the mild burning sensation that went through his nose. He cleaned the white dust excess on the table with his finger and brushed his gums with it—every bit counted.

Chanyeol sighed, satisfied, as he rested his head on the sofa.

“What was that?” Baekhyun asked.

“Heroin.”

Baekhyun was still a traditional man. Drugs never interest Baekhyun. He’s tried a pot, but it was never for him. He’s seen people around him done it, and he didn’t like what it did to them. Besides, these substances cost too much.

“By the way,” Chanyeol lifted his head up and pointed at Baekhyun, “I told boss you’re gonna take my shift tonight.”

Chanyeol also worked at the same convenience store, that’s where they met each other.

Baekhyun reacted, “What?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you. I have some business tonight.” Chanyeol winked mischievously—obviously planning something sketchy.

Baekhyun thought he’d have his rest day for himself.

Then, Baekhyun remembered his bills and his girlfriend.

Maybe he needed that shift.

“Breaking news: Kang Sunmi filed a divorce. The fifteen year old allegedly—“

Snapping fingers diverted Baekhyun’s attention from the television back to his manager who was in front of him. The manager pointed his pen to Baekhyun and said, “That news will stay for a while, customers don’t.”

Baekhyun nodded lazily.

It was past 3AM. He was on his second cup of coffee but he still felt drowsy, his eyes wanted to close itself. He’s not used to night shifts unlike Chanyeol, who could do any shift at any time of the day. Baekhyun still had an 11AM shift after his shift at 4AM. He’ll have less time for sleep, but a little more money for him. He needed every cent.

Less than an hour left.

There weren't many people at the store, so he was pissed off at his boss for being such an uptight motherfucker.

He couldn’t wait for his shift to end, he missed his bed. But he missed his girlfriend, Yuri, a lot more. She was still ignoring Baekhyun’s call and messages, making him miserable. He didn’t know how to make her notice him again.

I’ll pay her a visit after my shift. I’ll be there before breakfast, before she leaves for work. She’ll be surprised, see my effort and sincerity, he thought.

The idea washed away his sleepiness in a snap. He got excited to see Yuri’s face again. Baekhyun hoped she would forgive him and give him a kiss or hug.

His brain cells started to work actively, thinking of what things he should say.

How should I apologize?

Thinking of what he should do.

Should I text her first or knock straight away at her door?

Should I buy her a chocolate?

No, maybe hotcakes. She loves hotcakes.

He was alone with his thoughts, distracted by the challenges of love.

The bell on the top of the door rang when somebody pushed it open.

It woke Baekhyun up from his thoughts, his instinct greeted the customer who got in. “Good evening.” He, then, realized it was already early in the morning. He corrected himself, “Morning, sir.”

They were trained to greet anyone who came in the store.

Baekhyun watched the tall man take big steps as the man walked in, not even turning his head to Baekhyun’s direction. The tall man vanished from Baekhyun’s sight as he passed by the tall shelves.

Baekhyun had seen different types of people enter the store when he took night shifts on some occasions. There were people in pajamas buying food for breakfast, or maybe for their late night snack. Guards, drivers, and night shift employees buying coffee. Normal looking families who were on a trip buying snacks. Bunch of drunk teenagers wearing cropped tops and/or bomber jackets who came from a party buying cigarettes, or water for their friend who kept throwing up. People of any age wearing tacky clothes who were obviously on drugs—he could tell it from their teeth—buying lighters. Some people looked dangerous, he dared not to judge the things they buy, but they were usually alcohol and cigarettes. And, some men buy condoms.

But Baekhyun had never seen a person walk wearing sunglasses. Who wears sunglasses late at night?

What was also striking was the man was wearing an obviously expensive black coat. It was beautiful how vivid the color was; it was the blackest of the black he had ever seen. If the man came from a party, it must be a fancy one, might be a ball, or a fancy wedding of a multi-millionaire. Baekhyun thought the man was lost. The man should have asked his butler or driver to buy things for him.

A pair of heels started to echo his ears—it got louder as it got closer.

Of course, he has matching Italian shoes.

Even the most decent shoes don’t make a sharp sound like that.

Baekhyun turned his head to the man’s direction as the man got closer to the counter.

The man stopped in front of Baekhyun, still holding on to his items. He slightly lifted his head and scanned his eyes around the top shelves that were behind Baekhyun.

Baekhyun noticed the man was wearing a high-end brand of sunglasses. The way the light reflected on the black frame and on the black lenses, it was something else. His skin glowed as the light met his face, showing his healthy and almost poreless skin.

“Do you have anything besides Jack Daniels?” the man started to speak.

Baekhyun turned around and scanned the shelves himself. He knew the man was looking for something hard. “We have Johnnie Walker. Red, black, and double black.”

He rarely drank such expensive alcohol, but he enjoyed the scotch he recommended when he tasted it.

The man scoffed. “I’d take the bourbon.”

Baekhyun nodded and stretched his arm to reach the box of Jack Daniels.

The man placed his item on the counter. Baekhyun scanned the box, and the cotton balls that the man placed.

“Is that all?”

The man looked down at the front of the counter, turned his head from left to right, searching for something. He finally reached for something that caught his interest. He lightly threw the item on the counter

“That’d be all,” he said as he revealed a part of his side body under his coat, reaching his back pocket for his wallet.

“$27.14,” said Baekhyun after scanning the box of condoms—the ultra-thin one.

The man took another item in front of the counter the moment it caught his attention.

Baekhyun scanned a small bottle of lubricant. “$38.54”

The man initially took a hundred-dollar bill out from his wallet but he put it back. He extended his arm, slightly revealing a shiny silver watch under his sleeve, and gave three 20s instead.

The man looked at Baekhyun and said, “Keep the change.”

Baekhyun's eyes slightly widened, his lips curved upward. He couldn’t be happier, he needed every cent of money he could get.

It must be his lucky day.

“Thank you, sir!”

The man cocked both of his brows as a response while he put the smaller items inside his coat and carried the bourbon by the hand. Then, Baekhyun watched the man leave the store.

Baekhyun couldn’t stop grinning as he put the change on his wallet after he cashed in the payment.

“That was a nice watch,” he muttered to himself. It was like love at first sight when he saw the man’s watch. It was still at the back of his head.

Baekhyun looked at the store’s watch.

Ten minutes left before 4:00.

He started to fix his things at the staff room. Removed his tacky uniform under his white shirt, and wore a cozy jacket. He bid his goodbyes to his co-worker and manager and left the store at 4:05AM.

Cold wind blew on his face, making him shiver. He dug both of his hands on the pocket of his jacket, and started to walk across the almost empty parking lot.

He couldn’t spot a single person around. Few vehicles, yes. It was still early. The area of the city he’s in wasn’t exactly the busiest.

Baekhyun put a smile on his face. “I’m gonna buy hotcakes. I’m gonna see Yuri.” He felt excited. He tried to paint the look on Yuri’s face when she saw him at the front of her doors.

“We’re gonna have breakf—“

A long honk of a car distracted Baekhyun from walking. He turned his head where he heard the noise, but he couldn’t see anything—it was too dark, and the parking lot was too huge.

He turned around, checking if other people were around. But he was alone.

It was still honking, it wouldn’t stop. There was panic in Baekhyun’s eyes, his heart started to pound hard, he was nervous. Other parked cars seemed peaceful. His eyes searched everywhere, but he seriously couldn’t see anything. He started to walk hesitantly where the loud beep was coming from, he was unsure.

Silence.

Baekhyun’s ears rang and felt deaf after the vehicle stopped honking. But he was still worried. His feet wouldn’t move, his mind went blank, his ears still ringing.

Then, a tiny, orange light suddenly emerged from his sight from where he was walking to. The light was from inside a car. He could see tiny silhouettes in it.

He started to walk forward, but still hesitant. He turned his head from left to right to check if there were other people besides him. He was still alone.

The light got closer and closer as he walked nearer.

“HEELP!”

A loud screech of a woman alarmed Baekhyun, putting him to a stop.

“HEEELP!”

Baekhyun ran as fast as he could to the light, to the woman’s voice who cried for help. He saw the woman looking in his direction. Baekhyun was having a hard time to breathe because of the cold wind blowing against him, but he ran faster after he saw an unconscious man next to the woman.

Baekhyun panted heavily when he finally reached the vehicle. Him and the woman looked at one another with panic in their eyes.

“HELP!” The woman cried while she was shaking the man on his shoulders.

Baekhyun shifted his look to the man—it was the man who tipped him earlier. He was unconscious.

Baekhyun opened the door. “What happened?!”

The woman was in a state of panic, she didn’t know what to say. She was only worried for the man.

“Have you called 911?”

The woman blinked. “Are you fucking crazy?!”

Baekhyun looked around the vehicle. He saw a spoon, an elastic band, a syringe, a dust of power, and cotton balls. Baekhyun suddenly noticed the man had his sleeve rolled up.

“He fucking OD’ed?!” He concluded after he saw the things around them. The man got overdosed by some drug.

The woman didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were shaking—she was unsure if she should trust the man.

“You must call 911, or he’ll die!” exclaimed Baekhyun.

“No, no, no. Please don’t call them!” the woman begged.

Baekhyun knew if they called 911, they'd go to jail after he regained his consciousness because they were doing illegal drugs.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun cursed, he knew the woman won’t change her mind—he had met a lot of people on drugs, so, he somewhat understood. He removed his jacket, dropped both his bag and jacket on the concrete.

He stepped up to their high SUV and searched for the recliner lever of the man’s seat. But he couldn’t find it. “Where’s it?! How do you recline this fucking seat?!” Baekhyun yelled at the woman.

The woman jumped in panic, “Fuck.” She pulled something behind the seat of the man she was with to recline the seat.

Baekhyun lent his face to the man’s face to feel and listen if he was breathing. He wasn’t. “Fuck.”

“Don’t fucking die on me, Sehun,” the woman begged, pulling her hair. Her eyes began to tear up.

Baekhyun held the man’s face upward. He’s going to perform CPR.

He had his face close to the man, then the woman spoke. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Do you want him to fucking die?!”

Baekhyun exhaled all the air from his lungs and passed it to the man. He pumped his chest with both of his hands intertwined.

No response.

Baekhyun performed another around. He gave air, pumped the man’s chest.

Still, no response.

Baekhyun performed another, and another, and another round.

“Fucking shit. Don’t die on us, man.” He kept pumping his chest, sweat was breaking on his forehead despite the chilly climate.

The man wasn’t breathing.

Then, Baekhyun remembered his friend, Chanyeol. He remembered that he had Chanyeol’s adrenaline shot in his fridge.

“Fuck.”

Baekhyun carried the man on his shoulders and transferred him to the back of the car.

“What are you doing?!” The woman freaked out, confused. She followed them behind the car.

“Keep giving him CPR. I have something in my place that might help.”

Baekhyun went in front of the car, fixed the seat, and started driving. He drove as fast as he could to his place, he had the hazard lights on, he didn’t stop at any red light, he kept honking the car on every car that was on his way. Every second counted. The man could die at any moment.

They reached his place in 3 minutes.

Baekhyun carried the man on his shoulders and ran as fast as he could to his door steps.

Baekhyun’s eyes widened. His keys were in his bag.

He left his bag in the parking lot.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This isn’t happening,” he muttered to himself.

“What? What’s happening?!” The woman freaked out while she held the man’s face behind Baekhyun’s back, trying to wake the unconscious man.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun panicked. He didn’t want to let the woman know. She’d make him freak out more if she knew.

Baekhyun searched his pockets. He was starting to feel the weight of the man on his shoulders. Baekhyun gulped. Then, he felt the bulk in one of his pockets. It was his wallet. He remembered he had a spare key in his wallet.

He immediately took his wallet and searched for the key inside his wallet.

It was the biggest relief of his life when he felt the cold brass meet his finger. It was his key.

He opened the door, then carefully placed the man in his living room.

“Keep giving him CPR,” he ordered the woman as he ran as fast as he could to his mini fridge, and took a package on the top shelf.

He ran back to the man. His hands were shaking. He had read the instruction of how to use the shot countless times when he had nothing to do with his time and when he attempted to throw it away because it took a lot of space. Chanyeol had also told him how to use the shot once or twice just in case Chanyeol got overdosed himself. But Baekhyun still read it, just in case he read it wrong before.

But he was shaking, his head couldn’t think straight. There was an unconscious man in front of him.

“Fuck this shit.”

He’ll have to trust his memory.

He opened the package, and there was a tiny bottle that came with a huge syringe in it.

“Rip his shirt open,” Baekhyun commanded the woman as he tried to inject the 6-inch needle to the bottle with his shaky hands.

Baekhyun breathed heavily. He held his hand high over his head with the syringe, focused on the man’s chest. He had to inject the shot hard enough to get through his ribcage to his heart—to make his heart pump again with the adrenaline shot.

Baekhyun’s breath got heavier and heavier by the second.

Just a single response.

Baekhyun held his breath and stabbed the man with the needle.

A single response that could make everything better.

The man arose from his position, making a loud noise as he inhaled every air his lungs could get as he came back to life.

In a shaky voice, breathing rapidly, the man cursed, “Fuck.”

Or could make matters worse.

To be continued...

J/N: Send notes, reblog. Follow me on twitter @/jaeandbats for updates

Read next chapter

Tunnel Caprica: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (NEW!)

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serahsanguine · 5 years ago

Text

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 9 of?

part one, part Two, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, AO3

tagging @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon @foxystarbucks @baronessblixen

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Notes; im so sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out i have struggled quite a bit over last few months with depression, writer's block and my three kids. I would make one thing very clear i will never ever leave a story unfinished i have read a story where this has happened and it annoyed me so much. It may months or even years to complete but i will always finish a story this goes for both long-running stories I have.

on a lighter note, I have many many ideas for this story some i really think you will enjoy :)

***********************************************

Chapter 9; An Answer?

Mulder knew she was going to be confused but he certainly didn’t expect her to run out on him, maybe a slap or some hateful words but not this. This is something he didn’t not know how to deal with, the confusion of not knowing either way. This is when he truly realized he had hurt her a lot more than he thought and his actions of past events coming back to haunt him. How could he be so stupid?

He let everything go, his whole heart poured out in words, he was willing to let her in, he had let her get this close. He sat down on the closest seat he could find, the emptiness of the room hitting him like a freight train. He could hear people scuttling about outside the office door. He looked around at the books, the certificates, the countless women he had brought back to these four walls. The memories they had, the stories they could tell but not one of them meaning anything to him in reflection to the memories he had of Dana Scully. The minutes ticked by and silence fell upon the room once more.

*********************************************

Scully ran and ran her heart racing, blood pumping, breathing fast and uneven. She flew past people, whizzing past the gardens, cars and buses. She ran until her legs could not run anymore. She was in shock, he said I love you, and he wanted to start over. She stopped a couple of miles from campus next to a small lake, the water reflecting the moonlight in all directions, the sun had set and the air was warm. There was peace and silence in the air all around her. The nightlife chipping and chirping as small bats flew above her.

She stared into the open water her mind fogged, her heart bleeding. Could she start over with him? Could she love him? Was she already in love with him? Was Missy right all along and she cared for him deeply? She started walking back to her dorm. The question running over and over in her mind and the answers nowhere to be found. She was torn in two her rational side saying no, but her mind screaming to let him in.

The Next Day.

She still hadn’t made a discussion on what she was going to do she needed to talk to someone, rationalize it in one way or another. She took Serah out to dinner somewhere different, somewhere she won’t be seen by him. It was a small restaurant, quiet, even for the dinner rush hour. With homemade food from starters to desserts, plus it didn’t cost a lot either. They both sat in the corner booth with a window overlooking the garden and cobblestone road.

Scully explained in a shorter version of everything that happened and Serah just sat there and listened.

Serah took Scully’s hand and clasped it inside her own. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t no Serah, the rational side of me has a bunch of issues,” She looked over at her friend and she just nodded and let her continue.“At the end of the day, he still is my professor, he's older than me.”

“Oh, come on Scully. He may be older than you but not by much it’s only 8 or 9 years and it’s not like your a child, your a beautiful woman with her own mind and age is just a number baby.”

“I suppose you’re right but what would Ahab think? Let alone, my friends? Present company excluded. Should I transfer classes, or just quit going?”

“Wooo, wooo, wooo. Let's answer them one at a time”

“I don’t know what your father would think but if he loved you and could see you were clearly happy with Mulder then I suspect he would be happy too. If your friends can’t see that you are happy with him you don’t need them in your life. And to answer the last two questions is an unequivocal no. If you were to listen to your heart what would it say?”

That was the question wasn’t it what would her heart say, he was amazing everything about him, his intelligence, his heart and soul, certainly his looks. And come on he is mind-blowing in bed he knows how to treat a woman and make feel her on top of the world. She blushed at that thought.

“If he means that much to you you should at least email him or go to his office.”

Scully looked at her friend with a curious look “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes dear you did,” Serah said sarcastically smiling from ear to ear.

She blushed hard when she thought about what she said about Mulder in bed. She laughed it off.

“Maybe I will.”

“Humm.”

“Talk to him that is; see where we go from there.”

They both finished up the lunch grabbing their things and headed towards their next lecture.

Several hours later

It was getting late and many of the students had gone to either the dorms or out into town. Scully stood there at Mulder's door anxiously hesitant to knock, she could see his shadowy figure walking back and forth across the room. Several minutes passed, she was lost in her own thoughts when she lifted her hand to finally knock, he opened the door bowling into her sending papers everywhere.

“Shit I’m sorry,” he said before even looking at who he had run into. She started helping to pick up the papers.

“It’s ok, it was my fault,” she said sheepishly ad he looked up at her and their eyes locked, both frozen in there place.

“Dana.” He said matter of fact.

“Fox.” She replied in the same manner.

He picked up the last of the sprawled papers “Come in.”

“After you.”

They both stepped into his office shutting the door behind them. He placed the papers on the nearest surface and walking through to his private office where they couldn’t be seen.

The atmosphere was tense, so tense you could cut it like butter. The only noise in the room was the gulp of air from the water container and the hum of people chatting walking by. They both stood there not saying a word if a pin were to fall you could hear it shatter around the corners of the room.

She had a whole speech prepared, why they were not good together. What would happen if they were to get caught? But standing in front of his presence she lost all rational thought. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart hammering in her chest, her hands clammy, her mouth dry. But it despite all that she was the one to talk first.

“I love you too,” the words just poured out of her mouth her brain finally caught up with what she had spoken.

His face was in shock but was the kind of shock when someone is happy. She stuttered when she realized what she had said. She went to say something, but secretly she said fuck it, she deserves to be happy and damn to the consequences, at least for now. If something were to happen further down the line they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and kissed him with such force they both toppled to the floor with her on top. He hit the ground with an ugh but they both started laughing hard.

************************************

He was hurt but didn’t care, she had said the words back to him, and he was over the moon. He touched his lips to hers, his hands in her fine silk hair. She pulled away and asked,

“Why me? Out of everyone, why me?” he looked into her eyes with such clear and understanding and such force without hesitation.

“You’re beautiful, so quick-witted and funny, you keep me on my toes always surprising me. You laugh is infectious and you smile lights up the whole room. You...are my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the room is full of people, you are my constant... my touchstone. "

Her smile meant everything to him and he didn’t expect her to say anything back not quite yet anyway.

He kissed her neck her body started grinding on top of his, he felt his erection grow underneath his trousers and felt the flush of her skin against his own. His hands sitting on top of her t-shirt just above her hips.

“Mulder please…”

He lifted her top above her head and discarded it on the floor next to them, soon unclasping her bra and discarded that too. She moved her body slightly and it took him no hesitation to take her breast into his mouth letting the nipple roll around underneath the flesh of his tongue. Her hands undoing the buttons on his shirt. She smiled at his bronze chest as she raked her fingers down his stomach before undoing the zipper and button on his trousers then pulling his cock free from his cotton boxers.

“Fuck Scully” she only licked her lips, God those lips he thought and she smiled a wicked smile as she started pumping him at an antagonizing slow pace. He let her continue until he couldn’t take it anymore moving his hands from her hips lifting her skirt. He sat up just a little bit.

“Do you have any idea what wearing this little black mini skirt and black knee-high socks does to me?” he whispered sultry in her ear. Before moving her panties to the side and slipping his fingers through her dripping wet folds.

“I have…..Jesus Christ” her words left as he could tell she was lost in what he was doing to her he found her bundle of nerves at the apex of her legs.

Swishing, gliding, flicking, rushing and slowing his fingers bringing her to her peak and stopping before lowering her body every so slightly and sliding his member into her opening. He felt her hugging him, clinging even as he filled her up stretching her to her limits. She threw her head back her wet matted hair sticking to her skin. As she let out a moan of pleasure. She placed her hand either side of his head on the floor.

Creating an even deeper angle he let a growl her lips touched his and he took it as a sign to started thrusting into her, her tiny body matching his pace, her naked chest pressed up against his hot flesh. With the sound of their moans and skin slapping skin and the smell of sex clinging to the air.

“Mulder, I’m so close.”

“Me to let go,” and she did with the force of the world-shattering around her. He moaned right along with her, the height of pleasure exploding in there bodies at the same time.

After a few minutes, they lay spent half-naked on his office floor. He looked down at her.

“Next time I’m taking you to dinner first and make love to you somewhere other than my office floor”

“Maybe you’re apartment?”

“It’s definitely in your future, ” he smiled.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hope you do,” he said before holding her close giving her one last hug before helping her up off the floor and finding her clothes. After they finished getting dressed and looking presentable. He looked at her and asked, “so dinner?”

“I didn’t think you meant now?”

“No time like the present," he smirked.

He left the office first and she soon followed slipping into his car hoping no one saw before he drove her to the restaurant for dinner.

***************************

A MASSIVE HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERY ONE!

#txf fanfic #txf #The X-Files #the x files #the xfiles #mulder and scully #msr fanfic #school sex and subterfuge

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omegaqueencas · 5 years ago

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Start of Time

Warnings: NC-17, A/B/O dynamics, teen pregnancy, lots of sex tbh

Wang Yibo had moved schools after an incident with the other Alphas, who had thought it would be cool and funny to verbally harass the Omegas. Most of the time, he hadn’t cared what happened in school, mostly focusing on his studies, or his skateboard and dancing. However, once, when he was leaving school, some of the other Alphas started trying to involve him in the harassment, asking his opinion and laughing obnoxiously.

So when he said the truth – that he thought the Alphas were stupid knotheads that couldn’t think with anything else besides their dicks – the Alphas went ballistic and he got into a fight. It was six against one, but he had thrown some good punches – breaking a couple of noses, and busting a couple of lips. In the end, he had been held down and beaten the crap out of him.

He didn’t regret it, though. That was a shitty school, with shitty students and even shittier teachers, who did nothing to stop the bullying or the fights. Now, he was starting a new school on the other side of the city, but he half-expected for it to be the same as the last school.

Which meant it was a big surprise when he found out that the President of the Student Council was an Omega. A well-respected, top of his class Omega.

Yibo hadn’t actually met the Omega until his second week on school. On his first week of school, the Omega had been away, probably due to physiological reasons – his heat – and on the second week, it was only on his lunch break that they met. They were from different classes, so they couldn’t meet in classrooms or laboratories.

During lunch, Yibo, being the lone wolf that he was, stayed in a secluded area of the school, skateboarding. Technically, it shouldn’t be allowed, but he had found this spot on his first week and there was no one around to reprimand him, so he just decided to stick around there.

However, as he was making one of his radical moves, someone came out of nowhere, and, to not run over the guy, he jumped out of the skateboard, but it was too late and they collided, tumbling to the ground. Yibo groaned, even though he was the one on top, having landed on something soft – and that smelt so damn good. Frowning, Yibo blinked his eyes open and tried to get up, but his legs and the other boy’s were intertwined.

“Shit, sorry.” Yibo said, and he was about to stand up when he looked at the boy’s face – and he was the most gorgeous Omega Yibo had ever seen in his entire life. Starstruck, Yibo forgot what he was doing, and just kept on staring at the beautiful boy underneath him.

This Omega smelt so good, and he was pretty and soft and Yibo wanted nothing more than to kiss those pouty lips. He looked even more handsome as he blushed, and Yibo knew he was infatuated already, even though he didn’t even know the boy’s name.

“It’s okay…” The boy said, averting his gaze, the tips of his ears completely red. “But can you get up?” It was Yibo’s turn to blush and he fumbled to get up, sitting to the side, giving one of his hands for the boy to hold and prop himself up. The Omega sat up, hand going to the back of his head as he winced at his touch.

“Fuck, did I hurt you?” Yibo said apprehensively, one hand hovering the Omega’s shoulder. There was something weird about this Omega, that made Yibo want to protect him, to take care of him, and being the one who caused the Omega to get hurt was only making Yibo even more anxious. However, the boy smiled, lowering his hand.

“It’s truly okay. I didn’t see you, it’s my own fault for getting in the way.” He tried chuckling, but then winced again, hand returning to his head.

“Let me take you to the infirmary.” Yibo said, standing up and giving his hand to the Omega once again, who accepted it graciously. Yibo pulled him up, and the boy staggered a little, falling forward, their chest touching, but Yibo held him before they could fall again.

The Omega seemed torn for a moment, but then he shook his head and opened such a beautiful smile that Yibo had to force himself to not move, otherwise he’d touch the boy, maybe even pull him for a hug. “I mean it, I’m okay.” Yibo still wasn’t convinced. “I’m Xiao Zhan, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met. Are you the new student?” Yibo nodded.

“Wang Yibo.” He said, simply, and the boy nodded, still smiling. “Let me take you to the infirmary.” He repeated, and Xiao Zhan chuckled in embarrassment, blushing beautifully. “I’d feel terrible if you end up having a concussion.” Xiao Zhan opened his mouth to speak, but Yibo just asked again. “Please.”

There was a moment of silence, Xiao Zhan clearly considering if he should accept or not. In the end, his smile softened, and he nodded. “Okay.”

[ continue reading here ]

#bjyx #bjyxszd #yizhan

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

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Survey #259

"i went straight to heaven, but i kept on knockin’.”

What's something that makes you feel more creative? Music. What are the last three nail polish colors you wore? Wow, idk the last time I wore nail polish, but probably black or maroon. What's the last thing you binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. Do you watch youtube videos or tv shows more? YouTube is essentially my TV. Quite literally - I don't have a television in my room because I never watch it. What's a DIY project that you don't think actually works? Oh dude, plenty. I have DIY-obsessed friends online as well as a Pinterest, I know this shit, lmao. I can name one though with total certainty because I was with a friend when she tried that disgusting "YOU CAN MAKE cuPCAkES IN A C uP!!!!!" crap. It's the most eggy shit you'll ever try. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I think those crafts are generally super cute. Have you ever gotten rid of something and then regretted it? If so, what? (or what's one thing?) Oh yeah, one of my biggest being my senior prom pictures, but not for the reason you'd expect (save for two pictures of us that're just REALLY fuckin cute): I want them back because goddamn I was pretty ok and I miss that now that I hate my body every waking moment of every day. :^) What color is the zip-up hoodie you wear the most? Don't have one w/ a zipper, they're ugly. Do you live in an apartment that has inspections? No. Do you hate taking naps during the day? Nooo I love naps and usually take one a day. I tend to feel really tired all over again a few hours or so after I wake up. Who in your immediate family has the best natural hair? MEEEEEEEEEEEE. Would you ever audition for American Idol? Hell no. Do you know anyone who thinks they're more talented than they are? Lol wow, this is mean. I don't think so. Do you buy gum? Rarely, even though I like it. What's your favorite dollar store? I don’t have a favorite, I'd say? But I think we normally go to Dollar General. How many cell phones have you had in your lifetime? Maybe like, six? Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? BITCH I WISH!!!!!!!!!!!! I would kill to get married in one, omfGGGGGGGGGGG. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't remember a bad one. I loved going on field trips. The last time you went, what were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? I’ve never been. Which country would you most like to visit? Eeeeek idk, but probably South Africa. What are your favorite types of videos to watch on YouTube? What I watch on YouTube has become pretty diverse, but I know my favorites are easily Mark's actual big projects w/ egos 'n shit alksjdflk;w gOOD SHIT MY FRIENDS. I still love let's plays, of course! Are you a hoarder? No. Is there a guy (or girl) that you wish things had worked out with? Yes. If you were to start a collection, what would it be? I'd loooove Shadow of the Colossus stuff, particularly the amazing figures they used to have only in Japan. And World of Warcraft stuff; all I have rn is an Illidan poster and a fae dragon plushy hanging from my ceiling that Jason got me. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? Mother of god, a lot. #1, make me skinny again for the love of fuck. Which would result in loose skin being taken off and probably a breast lift because being overweight ruined my comfort with them laskdjfw. Whiten my teeth and give me laser hair removal surgery on my legs, please. Are your parents too controlling? Not at all. Who is your favorite fictitious redhead? VOL'JIN Blizzard what the FUCK give him BACK What shows have you seen on Broadway? None. Who is the prettiest Asian YouTuber that you can think of? Bitch Mark is Korean and he's gorgeous as fuck goddamn it ain't fair. But this is a weird question. What is the best news you've heard lately? When my mom got a follow-up blood test, things looked good!! She especially needed to level out her sugar, which she did well on. She also didn't lose or gain any weight, so that's wonderful. Have you ever flown first class? Hunny I am v poor. Have you ever had food SO bad in a restaurant that you sent it back? I don't believe so, anyway. Do you talk in your sleep? Very regularly now. Have you ever locked yourself out of your house? OOF, yes. Are you the type of person who can shake insults off easily, or do they tend to stick around in your brain & bother you? They stick with me for a long, long time. At least two I remember from years upon years ago. Who was the last person you cut out of your life intentionally? My old therapist that I trusted and loved when I fucking shouldn't have. Where were you raised? By who? Eastern NC, by my parents. What were your first words? "Dada." What were some of your favorite things when you were young? DINOSAURS, Webkinz, Pokemon, and Spyro, to name a few. What did you grow up listening to? Mostly country and pop music. What games did you play in the past? Spyro was my obsession, and I also loved hunting games (ironic, as irl I would never even consider it???) as well as fishing ones, plus Crash Bandicoot. What was the best birthday party you ever had? I'm not sure. How about the best vacation? I'm unsure; I haven't really been on a lot. Do you have any secrets you never intend to tell? Yup. What memory would you like to disappear from your mind forever? A nightmare I had about my dad. If you were someone else, would you be friends with the person you are now? Yeah. Do you consider yourself a smart person? No. What friend in your life has been the greatest influence to you? I don't know. Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? What made it so terrifying? I shared a bedroom with an EXTREMELY volatile, violent woman once in the mental hospital. As in she had to go in solitary when she had a violent episode, during which she became very destructive to her surroundings, so as you could guess, I was worried about my own wellbeing. She was eventually moved because I was that uncomfortable. Did you celebrate Easter? Are there any holidays you are more inclined to celebrate than others? If so, which? Well, Easter hasn't come yet, but we'll probably go to my sister's house for the kids. We'll celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving without fail. We don't pay much attention to others. I'd LOVE to do something for Halloween, we just never have anywhere to go/anything to do. What was the last thing you deleted? Pictures. What colors make up the majority of your wardrobe? Is there any color you like, but don’t wear often? There's black there. Oh, there's s'more black. What's that???? More bLACK????? MAN, I wish I could pull off pink. When was the last time you were in any amount of pain? I had a pretty intense headache yesterday. Who was the last person to hug you? Do you hug this person often? My niece, and yeah, every time I visit. What are you most likely to argue or debate about? The fact I almost never leave my pajamas lmao. What was the last show you watched? Have you seen it before, or is it something you’re watching for the first time? A few days back, I was reeeaaally bored and actually watched TV deliberately, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?????? It was The Witcher; wasn't bad. I'd be willing to watch more. How would you describe your taste in clothing? What would a dream outfit look like to you? uuuuuggggGHHHHHHHH let me be GOTH. Give me a corsette if they weren't notoriously uncomf with plenty of chains 'n stuff. BIG, SPIKY BOOTS. SKINNY LEATHER PANTS. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH. Have you ever tried snowboarding? No. What’s your favorite planet besides Earth? Saturn is dope. Would you ever be a coach for any sport? Nope. What color of eyes do you have? Blue. Do you like tacos? NOOOOOOOOO. White or red wine? Wine is gross. Do you prefer foxes or wolves? Foxes. What’s the youngest you would consider dating? No younger than 21. Do you think suits are sexy? mmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Did you go to high school with your current best friend? No. What is your boss’ (or school prinicpal’s) name? N/A Were you a fan of Michael Jackson before he died? I was never really a fan. Respected him immensely as a musician, I just didn't care much about his music. Turkey or ham for Thanksgiving? Ham. Turkey is always too dry and stringy. Do you look good in hats? I wouldn't know, I haven't worn one in forever. Never with short hair. Colons or equal signs for your smiley face's eyes? Colons. Do you like architecture? If so, do you have a favourite style or structure that you’d like to make note? Yes, and I should really have an answer for this, as architecture was a big part in Art History... Ummm Etruscan stands out, and of course Roman/Greek (even after the class I don't remember their differences well...). I love Middle Eastern architecture, too. What is one of your favorite words, in any language, and why? I just love the sound of "serendipity," as well as uhhhh "sakura" in Japanese and "kanji" in Chinese. I'm trying to think of a German one, as there certainly are some, but they're evading me right now. Where is the farthest you’ve travelled on foot? JESUS FUCK probably going to get Sara's brother from school, mother of all that is holy. But it might just feel like it because it was during the peak of my muscle atrophy in my legs. Are there any songs that you perhaps like but avoid because it makes you sad when heard? A good number. Do you like the area that you live in? What do you like or dislike about the area? NO. There's not shit to do and it's not aesthetically pleasing at all. Do you have a memory of when you really thought that you have lucked out on something? If so, what was it? Uhhhhh. A handful, I guess? Oh, uh, the suicide attempt to name one and probably the biggest. I took way too many of those pills to experience almost zero symptoms of an overdose; I did look up what "too many" was, because I wanted that. I'd say I was pretty fuckin lucky. If you have apps on your mobile phone, which one do you use the most? Facebook. Which do you like better: fantasy or science fiction novels? Why? FANTASY!!! I think it allows more creativity and possibilities of something magically "making sense" because yeah, it's fantasy. Science fiction has more "realness" to it, more, obviously, scientific elements versus make-believe. Do you like opossums? Do you think it is ethically right for others to keep opossums as pets? OPOSSUMS!!!!!!!!! ARE!!!!!!!!!! FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They're my second-favorite animals kdsja;lkdjaw. BUT ANYWAY, no, unless it's for rescue reasons. When was the last time someone asked you a huge favor or advice? Do you get asked often by this person? Oh I have no idea. Probably my mom? And no, definitely not. She hates asking for help. What are your thoughts on nihilism? I definitely get it, but it's not my personal outlook. Do you like the snow? More like love. What are your thoughts and feelings towards work/jobs in general? I don't know? I've never even had a real, steady job, so it's hard to really answer... I've only had bad experiences. It's kinda weird to me how you have to work your ass off (usually) to get a job you enjoy, as well as slave for some stupid green paper until the day you die just to stay alive and healthy. But at the same time, it offers a sense of fulfilment and is as well something productive and beneficial to the masses to do. Civilization would be very, very different and unadvanced if we were without them, so I guess it is a necessary thing. Humans gotta work together to keep where we're at. Do you believe in astrology? I've never actually elaborated why I don't believe in it so there ya go: not in the slightest. All it does is offer extremely broad characteristics that, in some light, almost anyone can relate to so they feel included in something. We naturally want to "belong" within something as social creatures, and astrology is an easy one with it being so vast. It gives equally indirect advice that can be applied to a multitude of situations, so people just mold what they read to fit their world. Don't base your goddamn life choices on the random positioning of shit in space. What is something that you’ve made/created? Do you take pride in your creations? Well, way way way too many OCs that I do indeed love a hell of a lot. If you have a Tumblr account, do you have any followers that you wish would not follow you? Well I'm sure there are bots. What kind of books do you generally enjoy to read? Fantasy stuff, mostly. But I also love novels with deep meaning, particularly about life in general. A good plot is mandatory. Does the quality of a video, on YouTube or a television, matter to you? I mean of course in some situations, like if I'm watching something educational/something to gain visual knowledge from. What is one situation that may cause you to become shy (if there is any)? Don't don't don't don't don't point out that my serious interests/things I massively love are "weird" like it's been years and I can still barely explain why my biggest tattoo is a tribute to some fuckface on the Internet lmao. When one is depressed, what can a friend do about it? Do you find that there is a good method to approach people in helping them combat depression? It is SO important to, first, ask them what they want. Do they want advice, an ear to just listen, just your presence, to be alone? As for combating depression, that greatly depends on the origin (if any) of theirs. There are so many factors in answering this question, but what I mentioned should, imo, always be the start. Do you tend to listen to music that embraces your mood or does music dictate your mood? Is it a little bit of both? Definitely both. When I'm sad though, I'm almost definitely listening to somber music too. Do you find yourself to be generally a forgiving person? I'm too goddamn forgiving. Do you have an embarrassing memory that you now look back at and can laugh? If so and if you’re comfortable, could you share one here? Omg I have a Bible-length collection of those suckers. I'd prefer not to. What is one skill that you have worked hard to develop? Is there still room for improvement on that skill? Damn, anxiety-coping mechanisms and actually trusting them to help me through attacks. I used to be convinced that they were useless because it just wouldn't work and weren't immediately effective, but you've gooooooot to trust the process, friends. What do you consider to be your main passion(s) and how did they come about? Spreading awareness of the seriousness of mental health and the comfort of knowing there's hope. You can never stop pushing. My own experience with mental health struggles is definitely the deeeep roots of that. Who do you think influenced you the most in your life so far? Why? Jason changed my life in many ways. Trauma does that. He taught me a lot about the necessity of having faith in yourself to survive on your own, a shitload about love and how it's not some fairy tale, and that people change, even those you least expect to. What is something that you have overheard people talk about that really bothered you? I could name more than a few things about race stuff, living where I do. What do you normally say or how do you normally act in response to a compliment? I usually do this shy laugh and say "thank you" with too much enthusiasm. How many books do you own? Do you have more physical books than electronic books? I've no clue where a lot of my old ones are. I have no electronic ones; I strongly prefer to read a physical book. What are your thoughts on higher education? Is it really necessary? In your opinion, what changes can be made? Depending on your aspiring career, it can be necessary, but just as easily, it can be unnecessary. I know for a fucking fact it should not be NEARLY as expensive as it is. Maybe even free, but I have no idea what monetary concerns that could cause with whoever runs the place. Have you ever received a heartfelt compliment from a stranger? Probably at some point. How many people would you consider to be extremely close to you? "Extremely"... like three lmao. Maybe one more or so. When was the last time you had to speak to a crowd? How well did that go? When I was taking pictures at a wedding last. It went okay. How would you describe your general outlook towards humanity? We by no means deserve to be the apex predator and Earth would be a shitload better without us. How long do you think you could last without any contact with your significant other, best friend, or a person whom you consider would be the closest to you? I'll use my mom here, in which case idk. I don't particularly want to find out. I talk to her at LEAST by text daily. Every day now that she can't work/is always home with me. Have you ever realised that someone was lying, but it was too late to confront them? Nope. Eventually speaking up is how I lost her, but.

#survey #quiz #questions

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clubdolan · 6 years ago

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& They Were Roommates ... | NC

When long time friends become housemates and everyone sees it but them.

“Whoaaaa-kay, Noah. Who is that, why is she here and why haven’t I met her?” Erik stopped dead in his tracks as he walked into Noah’s kitchen.

“My name is Brooke, I’m staying here for a while and.. you’re meeting me now.”

Noah nodded at Erik as she had answered all his questions. “We were friends in high school, lived in the same neighborhood and our moms are good friends…. and our sisters are the same age.”

“So you just moved your girl-next-door in without telling me? Or anyone?”

“I lived across the street and down a few houses.” She corrected him, “not next door”; grabbing her plate of food and heading to the room that she had been given.

Noah lowered his voice, “It was super last minute, she got a job out here and needed to move. We’ve kept in touch and I saw she needed a place so until she finds one by herself, I said she could stay here.”

“And I ask one more time, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know you needed to know who was living at my house.” He shrugged, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“I needed to know, because she’s… gorgeous.”

“Yeah, she’s cute.” Noah said, “She’s a dancer too, I know you’ve got a thing for—

“Ughhh, fuck yeah. Hook me up, bro. Give me the digits, introduce me, let’s all go get—

“Not gunna happen.” He laughed, “She’s on the ‘independent I don’t need a man’ train right now.”

“She didn’t know she needed a man until she met me.” Erik brushed off his shirt, “I’ll go introduce myself—

“Duuuude, you’ll see her here sometimes. Talk to her then. I don’t want my friends annoying her, I said you all would be normal…”

Two months in and Brooke’s schedule was never the same as his. She would leave at six in the morning and arrive back home to a living room full of boys yelling at video games. Noah would be gone for three days in New York and she invited her friend Shanna over who just gushed that ‘everything smelled like Peter Kavinsky’. They went to eat with groups of friends, went shopping with people, her mom and sister visited for a few days and he invited her to the movies with Jack and him.

One day their schedules collided, both heading to work out at the same time. “Come with me to Unbreakable, do some boxing.”

“I’m more of a hot yoga type.”

“C’mon, try something new.” He nudged her shoulder as she grabbed a banana off the counter. “It’s fun, you’ll get muscles and cardio at once.”

“Fine. You want a banana?” She asked, tossing one to him as he nodded and following him out to his car.

Two hours later they were both laying on the floor of Unbreakable Performance Gym, out of breath from the trainer doing fast sets with them.

Brooke held her hands over her face, trying to catch her breath and gain feeling back in her legs. “Told you it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, loads of fun.” She felt someone sit next to her and water dripped on her chest.

Her eyes opened quickly to see Noah holding a cup of water over her, “Drink.”

“I can’t even sit up.”

Noah groaned and sat the cups down, grabbing her hands and pulling her to sit up. “Hot yoga must not be much of a workout?”

“It’s more of a relaxing work out.”

“Punching things isn’t relaxing?”

“Two different types of relaxing.” She agreed.

“Big workout with Noah Cent today!” The trainer videoed them, walking in a circle. “It hit Brooke a little hard or I might have just gone a little tough on her for her first day.”

“Not fair!” She pointed right at the camera before drinking her water in one gulp. “Totally not fair.”

They headed home, grabbing food on the way. Brooke tried to stay awake and get some work done but as she did some internet research in the living room while watching Noah play video games, she fell asleep.

She woke up on the same couch. Her computer was on the table next to her and a blanket was draped over her body.

“Bout time.” Noah laughed, “It’s almost four.”

Brooke fidgeted with her phone, “What are you doing?”

“Scripts.” He pointed to the pile next to him, “I need to read through them all and see what I’m interested in.”

“Got any for a girl that can’t feel her legs or arms… orrrr whole body?” She groaned sitting up, “I’m going to get a hot shower.”

“If you want to take a bath there’s a tub in my bathroom. Tay left some bath bombs or something in the cabinet that I will never use.”

Brooke didn’t object his offer knowing his bath tub was loaded with jets and could fit about four people at one time. Hot water ran, bubbles piled up, bath bomb fizzed under the water leaving glitter in its path as she tried to relax her sore muscles.

“Hey B, did you fill the fridge?” Noah asked, staring at the contents, “I swear there wasn’t any milk, yogurt or fruit here yesterday.”

She paused on her way out the door, “You said yesterday, I wish we had yogurt and fruit and so when I went to get a few things I grabbed yogurt and fruit.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her.

“I thought tonight was video game night or something?” Brooke asked, passing Noah on his way out the door. “Usually there’s a bunch of dudes here—

“Oh, you said you had some friends coming over for the finale of that show you watch, so I told Jackson we needed to play at his house.”

The door closed before she saw a perfectly clean living room, no video game controllers in sight. The fridge not only had her bottle of wine but a few more plus her favorite snack, strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Brooke: Did you really supply the wine and snacks for The Bachelorette finale?

Noah: I figure we’ve ruined enough of your girl’s nights yelling at Fortnite so I thought I’d be nice.

Brooke: You didn’t have to! But thank you! We’re all enjoying it. :)

“Wait, don’t come in!” Brooke yelled as she heard the front door open. Noah froze mid way, “Just, stand by the door and don’t come any further!”

She hustled around the kitchen, finishing icing on the cake and checking the clock, “You said you wouldn’t be home for another two hours!”

“They cut my last scene for the day, so I’m early. Do I need to leave? Do you have someone here? I ca—

“No, just give me one second!” She lit a candle and pushed the pan to the edge of the counter. She caught her reflection in the glare of her iPhone before looking down at her outfit; icing on her cheek, her hair tied up out of the way from baking, barely any makeup on, an old t-shirt she found and a pair of leggings.

Brooke had planned to look a little better as she threw a ‘mini red carpet’ for Noah since his movie came out on iTunes that he filmed two years ago. She had remembered hearing all about it and saw it never released until now.

The cake was white with a red square across it, a toothpick with a picture of Noah’s head was poked in the top of it, ‘SWIPED’ written in black icing, below it ‘#2 on iTunes all day’ was written in chicken scratch of leftover red icing.

“Okay, you can come in.”

Noah turned the corner slowly and a party popper went off in the air, “Happy movie release day!”

“Oh yeah, it came out today.” He reminded himself, laughing at the cake. “This is awesome, thank you.”

“I was going to make it fancier in here, I had a whole red carpet planned but you came home and you don’t have a red carpet.” She kicked the rolled up red rug that set on the floor.

“No, no, this is fine. This is amazing. The last time anyone did this was… the Austin and Ally episode.” They both laughed, “You and your sister’s made that horrible cake and you all threw it at me before we all watched it.”

“I promise this cake is much better.” Brooke pointed to the box of ready made mix that sat on the counter, “And I wanted to make this like the Austin and Ally party. Every movie needs a red carpet.”

“I mean they’re fun but Swiped was such a small budget. I didn’t even think it was going to come out after that long of waiting.”

Brooke looked in the reflection of the microwave and tried to fix the messy bun on top of her head, but there was no hope for it. “I look like complete shit.” She wiped under her eyes, remnants of mascara were smudged below her lashes. “I should have—

“You look fine.”

“Huh?” She turned around, picking a piece of dry icing off the back of her hand.

“You said you look like shit and I was saying, you look fine.” He leaned on the counter near the cake, “You always do.”

“I look like I have slaved over this damn—

“Shut up, Brooke. You’re beautiful. You never look like shit.” She finally looked up from her red stained hands and made eye contact with him, “What?”

“I mean... I just... thanks?” She awkwardly leaned on the counter opposite of him, “Even though like my hair—

“No, no, no, stop. You look fine.” He stood up and gestured to the cake. “This is more than you needed to do. Thank you.”

He opened his arms for a hug but Brooke barely looked at him, “Oh, sorry...” She stopped herself from rambling and quickly hugged him. Her stomach flipped and her face went hot as his arms wrapped around her, they hadn’t hugged in a long time. Since he left to move to California; when they were sixteen.

“You even smell like cake.” He mumbled into the top of her messy hair. “You need to stop being so negative about yourself.”

“Huh?” Brooke asked, pushing herself back from him.

“You constantly put yourself down, I hate it.”

“I don’t realize I’m doing it. I’m my biggest critic, I guess.” She tried to laugh it off, “Speaking of, I suck at alphabetizing and need to get a whole box done before work tomorrow, so I’m gunna…” She pointed behind her, “Enjoy the cake.”

“Do you—“ He paused, hearing her door close, “Want a piece?” Noah mumbled to himself, sticking his finger in the top of the icing and licking it off.

“Wow a house party, is this the LA life style?” Brooke joked, walking in after work. People flooded their kitchen and living room, “Excuse me…. excuse me… oh hey, Kyle… where did that ping pong table come from?”

“We bought it today!” Noah yelled, trying to shoot a ping pong ball backwards into a red cup. “You better not hide in your room.”

“I’m just going to put my stuff down.”

After forty minutes of ‘putting her stuff down’ and two interruptions from Kyle and Jack she finally made her way to the living room.

Brooke recognized a few girls and chatted with them while she downed a few glasses of wine. Kyle got her to open a cabinet which he ‘iced’ her with and she got him back by hiding one behind the radio and asking him to change the song.

“Everyone in here! Game time!” Jack yelled, standing on the ping pong table. Chairs pulled up around it, the couch was drug towards it and a few people stood.

“It’s an easy game just read the card you pick out loud and do whatever it says, kapeesh?”

Brooke walked in as piles of cards were being sat around the table. Two guys did rock, paper, scissors to decide who would go first.

“Brooke! Over here!” Noah waved from their couch which was parked at one end of the table. She balanced a beer and a hard cider in one hand while she weaved in and out of the people waiting their turn.

“Scoot over!” She yelled at the company on the couch, “Guys! Move over, I’m sitting here.” She pointed next to Noah and watched Jack yell at the person drawing a card. “I’ll go get a chair out of my room—

“Just sit.” Noah opened his arms and looked at his lap.

Brooke did a bit of thinking, taking time to watch a girl chug the rest of her beer before she sat down on his legs. “On a scale of one to Jack, how drunk are you?”

Noah closed his eyes and thought, “Six? You?”

“On a scale of one to Jack, I’m about a four.”

“BROOKE!” She turned and looked at the table, everyone was looking back. “Brooke I nominated you to drink.”

She tipped her cup back and finished the beer, tossing the empty cup on the table before drawing her own card. “Person to my right has to chug.”

“Noah!” Kyle yelled.

“Kyle!” Noah yelled.

She looked at the both of them before Noah spoke, “Technically, I’m underneath her.”

Without an argument Kyle chugged his drink and picked his card.

The pile of cards was endless. People were dancing, singing, drinking, making other people drink and some had left as it was already around one in the morning.

“There’s no fucking way I’m getting into an uber and riding somewhere when my bed is fifteen feet away from me.” Brooke groaned, leaning back on Noah. “Please tell me you’re not because I don’t want to get up—

“I’m starving so I am.” He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and standing up, “The diner is right down the road, are you sure?”

“My bed is right there.” She pointed to a door across the room.

An hour and a half later Noah, Jack and Kyle came back in the apartment, begging for a bed, couch, or “literally anywhere with a blanket”.

“Couch!” Noah pointed to the living room, choosing to ignore the mess in the kitchen and just turn the lights off. “I’ll be in my—

“If she’s sleeping here I am one hundred percent taking her bed.” Kyle pointed to Brooke asleep on the couch that still sat at the end of the ping pong table.

“She will kill you.” Noah laughed, making his way towards them, “B, come on, go to your bed before Kyle gets in it.”

“Don’t fucking touch my bed.”

“Then get up!”

“C’mon..” Noah grabbed her hands and pulled her up. Brooke stumbled and fell into the ping pong table, blaming Noah. “Ten feet away.” He wrapped his arms around her and guided her to her room, “Do you want to—

Brooke groaned and tugged her shirt off, tossing it across the room. “Ohhhh kay, Brooke. I will see—

“Take my shoes off.” She demanded from the edge of the bed, holding her boot up in the air.

Noah cautiously tugged at the black leather before grabbing the other one, sitting both of them beside her bed.

“Can you get the red sweatshirt from my closet?” She yawned, pushing her covers back. Noah walked to the closet, pulling the red sweatshirt from a shelf.

By the time he turned around her pants were off and she was under the covers, “Do you still want this?”

Her hand stuck out and she grabbed the fabric, pulling it towards her, “Thanks babe.” “You’re welcome?” He laughed, “You’re going to feel like shit in the morning.”

“Happy birthday, Noelle!” A group of girls yelled, snapping pictures, boomerangs and video of their friend blowing out candles on a cake.

They all shuffled around taking selfies, posting before they went out, eating cupcakes and continuing their drinking from the dinner they had just gotten home from.

Brooke left the girls to chat and ventured down the hall, “Hey No…” She knocked on his bedroom door, “Noah?” She opened it when he told her to come in, “We’re about to leave, can you take a group picture of us?”

“For sure.” He tossed his book on his bed and followed her down the hall.

“Noah!!” They all screamed as he walked in.

He laughed and said hi, “I’m just here to take a picture.” He held up Brooke’s phone. The girls all moved around, getting into a row of six, “Smile!”

“Okay but we need a serious one too.” He took a few more.

“And a funny one!” He took three or four.

“Try a candid!” Another suggested. They all moved and talked while he continued taking pictures.

“Bus is here!” One yelled, looking at her phone. “Get your birthday sash on, Nora!”

In no time they all had gone out the door and down the drive way, “Thanks.” Brooke smiled, taking her phone from Noah. “Be honest with me. Do I look like a slut or just like.... an average LA girl?”

He took a few steps back and looked her up and down, “You look better than an average LA girl but a little on the provocative side.” He saw her face change, “It’s not a bad side, it’s good. You deserve to show off your lil boxing abs.”

Brooke glanced down at her flat stomach, a few abs finally poking through from weeks of early morning boxing.

“And I like your hair up.”

She looked back at him, the ponytail swinging behind her. “Thanks. I trusted Jen with my hair and makeup.”

She kept glancing in the reflection of the fridge next to her, fidgeting with lipstick and mascara. Noah kept looking at her, taking her in head to toe, “Are you going to go?”

“Oh yeah.” She tossed her lipstick in her clutch, “Everyone’s going to their own houses when we’re done so it’ll only be me coming home.”

“Why do you keep pulling at your outfit?”

Brooke caught herself tugging at the cleavage of her shirt, “I just.. I’m not used to the top or bottom.. or shoes. I feel like everything is hanging out.” She laughed, pulling at the bottom of her skirt. “Is my butt hanging out?”

Noah laughed, watching her spin around, “Not at all.”

“It’s dark in the club too, no one will even see anything.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll just stand in the middle of everyone.”

“Good plan.”

“How are they so comfortable in like no cloth—

“Brooke, they’re all waiting on you. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Oh shoot, yes. Bye!” She tried her best to walk fast in her heels, slamming the door behind her.

Different pictures were posted all night on each girl’s profile.

@brookeitsme: Happy Birthday @NO_L !

—@ncentineo: photo cred: ME

A picture of Brooke and Jen hugging in the girl’s bathroom.

@brookeitsme: MY H&MUA BABE @jennyfaye

—@ncentineo: team ponytail

A picture of Brooke behind the DJ booth with his head phones on.

@brookeitsme: How did I end up at the DJ booth?

—@ncentineo: 😍

“Brooookieeee I’m going home with you so I can go find Noah.” Her friend Steph mumbled in her ear, holding onto her arm. “Let him take more pics of me if you know what I mean.”

“Nice try but Noah’s after Brooke.” Jen laughed, helping steady Steph.

Brooke almost spat out her drink, “What? No he’s not. Oh my god.”

“Are you oblivious? To the both of you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yeah..” Steph got closer to them, “What are you talking about? Because I want th—

“Have you been on instagram? Seen the notifications?” Jen grabbed her phone out and began typing and searching. Brooke had her notifications off since people realized she lived with Noah. Her instagram was non-stop so every notification was annoying.

“He commented on all three pictures you posted. The one of you has a HEART EYE EMOJI.” Jen put the phone in her face, “And he likes your ponytail.”

“Yeah he told me that earlier.”

“Did you see the look on his face when he looks at you? Do you pay attention?” Jen laughed, “You too! You get the melty look when he’s around. I’ve only seen you like that one other time and it’s when we saw Zac Efron at The Grove.”

“And he’s always complimenting you.” Steph added, “I get SO jealous. Like isn’t my outfit hot enough for Mr. Noah Centineo??”

“Ask any of us, we’ve all noticed it.” She pointed to their table of friends, “Right, Meg? Noah and Brooke?”

“Oh their constant oblivious flirting?”

“Are you all joking? You planned this. I told you all I didn’t like him that way—

“You didn’t. Past tense.” Steph pointed out, still leaning on Jen for balance. “What about now?”

“We’ve been friends forever, there’s nothing more than that—

“She didn’t say no.” Jen smirked, “Have you even been looking at apartments to move out?”

“We went a few times but…”

“But what?”

“Noah didn’t like the ‘area’ I had picked out.” Brooke looked down at her heels, “It was sketchy or something.”

“What about the other time?”

“It was too far from his place.”

“What did he say before you left?”

“To call him if I needed a ride.”

“BROOKE!” It seemed like they all yelled her name at her, “COME ON!”

“What? It’s what friends do…”

“When we went to eat the other day he was allllll about you.” Meg said, “He drove us, paid for your food, drove an extra like forty minutes to get you your favorite tea and then carried your to-go food in the house.”

“Well when you point it all out…”

“And you told me about the day he said you were beautiful.” Another friend spoke up, “That you always look beautiful.”

“It was because—

“He said he loved your laugh at that party one night. He let you sit on his lap. He kept wrapping his arm around you. You almost fell asleep on him. He helped you change before you went to bed….”

“He calls you B all the time, even to his friends. Ster told me.”

“You always talk about him too.” Jen laughed, wrapping her arm around Brooke’s shoulder, “You always see movies with him and go eat with him and sit at home and watch shows with him and you’d rather order pizza in than go meet me for lunch and then I find out Noah’s home. When he’s not there you always ask to stay with one of us…."

“Why are you all just telling me this now?!” Brooke asked, overwhelmed.

“We thought you would catch on at some point.” Meg laughed, “Apparently not.”

“First of all, rude. Second, where is Noelle?”

“She left with that youtube guy she’s been seeing.” Steph downed a glass of water, “I’ve been waiting to go home with you but now I won’t be inviting myself.”

“Meg was trying to get the attention of homeboy over there but his friend keeps winking at her.”

“I’m here for moral support of everyone and their decisions.” Jen said, “And to make sure we all get a ride home.”

“Can we drink a little more, not you Steph, and dance a little more before I have to go home realizing everything you’ve all just thrown at me?”

Two hours and two bottles later they were all on their phones ordering rides, “No, don’t get an uber.” Meg covered Brooke’s phone, “I asked Noah to come get you.”

“MEG!” She whined.

“BROOOOOKE!” She mimicked her, “You live in the hills and fares are tripled right now. All of us live downtown except for Steph who’s going with me tonight. He’ll be here in like ten minutes.”

Brooke flipped to her texts with Noah and clicked the info button, a map popped up of where he was at that exact moment.

“You’re tracking him?”

“We both share locations in case I get stolen and sent over seas to be sold as a sex.” Brooke explained, “It’s a big fear of mine... He’s right down the road.”

“My car is almost here, I’ll get Steph and we can go wait outside with you.”

The little breeze was welcomed on their skin as they exited the muggy, hot club. They ignored the random guys who shouted at them and stood down from the door, watching for their rides.

“Really, man?” Meg asked, rolling her eyes at the guy who kept looking at them. “We’re probably half your age, leave us alone.”

“I’m always looking for Sugar Babies.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Just an offer for—

“We’re not interested, please leave us al—

“But the three of you can—

“Please, leave us alone.” Meg tried to look around him for the specific car picking them up.

“I was just—

“Oh my fucking god, stop it!” She screamed, grabbing Broke and Steph’s hands. “Please move so we can cross the street.”

The man didn’t move, he kept looking at all three of them; up and down, up and down.

“Excuse me, sir. Please move so the ladies can get through.” Brooke looked up at the familiar voice and Noah stood there with his hand out. She grabbed it and stepped aside the guy; pulling her friends with her.

“Oh my god, thank you, thank you.” Meg sighed, “I was losing all will power not to punch him in the face.”

“I parked across the street and saw you all with him. Figured it wasn’t going well. Do you guys have a ride?”

“Yeah” Meg looked at her phone, “Black Ford Escape, license plate Y35— right there.” She pointed up a few cars. “Thanks, Noah.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Steph grinned, following Meg to the car.

Brooke grabbbed onto Noah’s arm and rest her head on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“You’re a little wobbly but I’ve seen you worse.” He joked. “Seems like you guys had a fun time?”

“Yeah, even though Noelle left with some dude early on. We kept the party going.” She laughed.

“I saw the DJ booth picture, did you have a good set? Play some jams?”

“Killed it. Got a job offer immediately. I even did the one head phone on and one off, felt like a real DJ.”

The car ride home they chatted. She told funny stories of the night, he asked about certain instagram stories, she played a new song she heard and he even stopped by McDonalds so she could have french friends and a Coke.

Her phone started firing away, their group message was blowing up. “Oh fuck off.” She mumbled, shoving it back in her bag, hearing dings continue to go off.

Meg: Snuck a picture of our favorites. *picture*

Jen: SHUT UP I DID TOO *picture*

Meg: Great minds think alike.

Steph: I told her it was creepy, she made the uber driver slow down.

Noelle: BROOKIE that’s so cute.

Steph: He was so hot in sweatpants and a hoodie.

Jen: Are you alive, Brooke?

Noelle: Is she finally getting the D?

Steph: He deserves it from someone tonight.

Meg: NOELLE! lolololol but really

Jen: She’s going to kill all of you.

Steph: Not if she gets good enough D.

Steph: She’ll be a happy B.

Meg: Happy B because of the D

Noelle: HAPPY B BC OF D OF NOAH C

Meg: Shut up Noelle I hate us.

Jen: I truly wonder what’s happening. Maybe she’s just ignoring us?

Steph: Maybe she fell asleep?

Meg: Maybe she’s finally getting the french fries she’s begged for all night.

Noelle: I still think she’s getting it onnnnn.

Noelle: And then she’s gotta tell us every detail.

Steph: Literally every detail. I need to know these things.

Brooke pulled up the photos and swiped back and forth. Meg’s was a view from behind of her leaning on Noah’s arm as they walked to his car. Jen’s was from across the street as he let her in his passenger door.

Brooke: You all are sneaky little bitches. I finally got my french fries and Coke. We aren’t even home yet you freaks. Of course I could tell you some details if THAT EVER HAPPENED but he’s just driving me home. I could fall asleep at any moment though.

She recorded a video with random alternative music playing as she ate french fries, her lipstick was half off her lips as she sipped her drink and put it back in the middle console. As she bopped her head to the beat a random hand snuck into her french fry bag and stole some. She followed him with the camera and Noah smiled as he snuck them all in his mouth, looking at the road.

Meg: Brooke you are living the dream.

Jen: I want a guy that gets me french fries.

Steph: I just want a guy.

Noelle: His little smirk he does at you!! I can’t take it!!

Jen: Do you see it now, B? Are you noticing things?

Brooke: I’m noticing that he carried my shoes inside and made sure I didn’t fall up the stairs.

Brooke: He offered to make me a BATH but I’m too lazy so I’m just laying on the couch resembling a dead body.

Noelle: GET. IN. THE. BATH.

Meg: Fuck youuuu, B. I’ll come take a bubble bath.

Jen: It’s funny because I know exactly what you look like right now without even seeing it.

Brooke: Oh you can see. Noah took this picture of me. *picture*

One leg hung off the couch, one was up on a pillow, her bag of french fries on her chest and her ponytail was let down, giving her a major bad hair moment.

Steph: Brooke you’re a dream girl.

Jen: I like your smudged lipstick.

Brooke: IT’S FROM EATING.

Meg: You do kind of look dead. Dead but enjoying fries.

Noelle: Can I use this as album cover art? I’m not even joking.

Noelle: 100% would use this for a single. Black and white.

Brooke: I give you my drunk permission to use it as an album cover but don’t forget to thank me when you win album of the year.

Jen: The party girl song, Noelle! The one you played a clip of on our way to Brooke’s.

Noelle: SHUT UP YOU’RE RIGHT

Meg: Wait, why did he take that picture of you? To prove you’re a mess? lol

Brooke: Because I told him not to speak of how messy I look right now so he CAPTURED IT FOREVER.

Jen: Can’t wait to frame it at your wedding.

Brooke: TOO FAR JEN

Brooke: I’m going to throw my phone in the toilet so there’s no chance that Noah ever sees these messages.

Brooke: He could easily look right now because he’s right next to me.

Meg: Feet or head?

Noelle: Head or feet?!?!???

Jen: Both of you can stop being twins.

Brooke: ………

Brooke: …….

Brooke …… I may be resting my head on his lap.

Brooke: He wanted more fries and thankfully I ordered two larges.

Meg: Stop texting us and talk to him.

Steph: Just turn your head over and go to wooooork!!

Jen: He put you on his instagram story. I’M DYING.

A black and white picture of Brooke from the neck down with the caption: “Two large fries and a coke, please.” You couldn’t even tell she was laying on his lap, but all of her friends knew.

“Oh fuck youuuuu.” She groaned, looking up at him, “I look so stupid and drunk.”

“No one even knows it’s you.”

“Jen did.”

“Okay well your outfit may give it away.” He shrugged, “It’s just funny you’re so content eating french fries right now.”

“I love french fries.”

“I know.” He smiled, continuing to look at her. Without a word he wiped his finger along her face, trying to remove the stain of lip stick she had smeared while eating.

“It’s a lip stain.” She laughed.

He tried to wipe it again, pushing harder. “They don’t joke when they say stain.”

“It’s three in the morning.” Brooke groaned, “I need to get up and wash my face and change and probably brush my hair and probably go to bed.”

“You definitely need to go to bed.” He pushed a hair from her face, “And wash your face or you’ll be angry when you wake up. Do you want to go to brunch whenever you wake up?”

“If there’s bacon involved, yes.”

“Those are like.. front row…”

“It’s called court side, but yes.” Noah laughed, “Please go?”

“Doesn’t Jack or like.. any of your guy friends want to go?” Brooke asked, sitting cross legged on the kitchen counter, eating a bag of pretzels. “Not that I don’t want to but I’m sure they’d be willing.”

“But I want you to go.” He leaned on the counter next to hear, flipping the two tickets in his hands. “Please?”

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

He glanced at the clock on the microwave, “Two hours.” He smiled up at her, shaking the gold and purple tickets. “We can go eat anywhere afterwards.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere…” He sighed, tilting his head on her leg, “Please just tell me you’ll go. Because I really want to go.”

“Awwww..” She messed with his hair, “He really wants to go.” She frowned, “If he gives me forty-five minutes I can be ready for a Laker game and In and Out.”

Brooke filmed the outside of the arena as they walked in their ‘private’ door before Noah put his face right in front of the camera and yelled, “GO LAKERS”.

Paparazzi caught them as they entered, Noah guided Brooke with his hand on her back, not answering any of the questions they were yelling.

As they entered the building they ran into someone Noah knew immediately, “Noah Centineo…” James Cordon shook his hand, his other held onto his son who was sporting a bright gold Laker’s jersey.

“Nice to see you again, James.” He waved down at the boy, “Hey little man.”

“This is my son, Max. He loves basketball games.” Max looked up at the both of them, “He has no idea what’s going on.”

“This is my friend, Brooke.” He put his hand on her back as she shook James’ hand. “It’s her first Laker’s game. She also loves basketball.”

James took a picture of the four of them and shared it on his instagram. Both Brooke and Noah shared it to their stories as they sat down. A few fans noticed Noah and yelled at him across the court before the game started.

Brooke’s friends were texting her that she was on TV a lot and she had to laugh at some of the screen shots she got sent to her. But one caught her eye, it zoomed in on Noah and had a title on the TV screen, “Movie Star Noah Centineo” to inform all that were watching that he was there.

But Brooke didn’t notice that. Neither did her friends. They noticed his hand on her thigh, sitting there nonchalantly as they watched the game and didn’t see the camera zooming in across the court.

People caught pictures of them laughing together, Brooke whispering something in his ear, him stealing her popcorn, her resting her head on his shoulder for a selfie and of course, the internet went wild.

They were a trending topic, every news outlet had them on the front page, her instagram ‘tagged’ page kept continuously changing as his fan accounts posted images.

Neither of them spoke a word. They smirked at each other as they left their seats after the game, she grabbed his arm and followed him through the crowded halls till they were outside. They needed to make it to the parking lot next to the stadium which required leaving the gated space and entering the public.

It seemed like hours but Brooke finally got her hands on In and Out, snacking on it as they made their way home and onto the kitchen counter where they ate most of their meals late at night.

“All of these pictures of us. Endless instagram opportunities. Good thing I wore a good outfit.” She scrolled through her instagram tags and saved a few, sipping the end of her milkshake.

Her feet dangled off the side of the counter as she answered back her million texts from friends. Normally she would hate the attention but for some reason she didn’t even care.

“Oh, this one’s cute.” She showed Noah her phone, a shot of them exiting the venue, holding hands, both smiling; until her phone started ringing ‘MOM’.

“Don’t tell anyone that I’m muting her call right now, I don’t want to talk anymore. She’s called me three times today.”

“What about?”

“She said since it’s been six months I need to move out so she’s going to come out here to look for apartments with me since I can’t ‘do it on my own like an adult’.” She rolled her eyes, “My mom has no idea about apartments or neighborhoods around here.”

“So she wants you to move out?”

“It’s been six whole months.” She mimicked her mom, shaking her head. “Like I get it, but I really don’t want her to come help. She’ll be checking crime reports and make me get a place somewhere expensive so I’m not in danger.”

“You’re in danger everywhere in LA, does she know that?” He laughed, tossing their empty bags away before standing in front of her. “You’ll be in a cardboard box in Calabasas if she bases it off safety.”

“I’ve told her that so many times.” Brooke groaned, pushing her phone to the side as her mom texted her.

“How about you tell her something else?”

“What? Tell her I’m moving home? Tell her I’m moving to the neighborhood full of gangs? Tell her I’m movi—

“Tell her I don’t want you to move out.” He rested his hands on her knees. “I want you here… with me…”

Brooke tried to hide her smile, “I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“It’s safer than living alone, right?” His hands moved up the side of her legs, “Security system, good neighborhood, you’ve been here for six months already so why move?”

Brooke grabbed his cheeks, “Because it’s been six whole months.” She mimicked her mom again, watching him laugh and push his face against her hands. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m very serious.” He moved closer, his hands went around her bottom and he rested his body between her legs, “I don’t want you to move out. I want you to stay here.”

“Wouldn’t it be… tricky… to continue…. this…. and for me to live with you?”

“It would be opposite of tricky, it’d be easier.” He winked, “Not that I would tell your mom that.”

“Oh now you’re going to talk to my mom about it?” She laughed, “Go ahead.”

“Hi, I don’t want Brooke to move out… I promise she’s not a pain…” He faked being on the phone, “No, no, I’m not just being nice…. yes I’m talking about the same Brooke…..” He fake laughed as her hands fell around his neck, “No she’s not annoying… opposite actually…” Brooke laughed, “….my friends get along with her fine, I promise… it’s just that…. I don’t want her to move out.. I think I’ve realized in the past…” he checked a fake watch, “...six years. That I really like Brooke… like reallllly like her.”

Brooke’s eyebrows rose up at the statement before she whispered back to him, “And I realllllly like you, Noah.”

He hung up his fake phone and stood up in front of her. He bit his lip and held back a laugh, looking down at her. His hand went up to her neck as he brought his face down to hers and they kissed.

For the first time in six years, they kissed.

“So you’ll tell your mom…?” He asked, his thumb rubbing along her jaw.

“That I’m not moving.”

“Perrrrfect.” He smiled, picking her up and carrying her down the hall, kicking his door open, “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in here tonight.”

“Every night.” She quickly said back, tightening her grip on the curls at the top of his neck.

It made Noah stop in the middle of his room and smile before dropping her on to his bed and falling on top of her before repeating, “Every night.”

#me #mine #fanfic #noah #noah centineo #tatbilb #peter kavinsky #imagine #writing #write #Sierra Burgess is a Loser #jamey #charlies angels #the stand in #swiped #valet #fanfiction

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thebarsondaily · 6 years ago

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Author of the Month (2018)

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Ships/Fandoms:

SVU: Barba & Benson

Harry Potter: Draco & Hermione, Harry & Pansy

Favorite Completed Fic - A Barson Thanksgiving - Law & Order: Special Victims Unit - Barba & Benson or 12 Days of Barson Christmas - Law & Order: Special Victims Unit - Barba & Benson

Favorite W.I.P. - Spring Brings New Life - Law & Order: Special Victims Unit - Barba & Benson

What inspired you to begin writing fanfiction? I’ve been writing fanfiction since I saw The Empire Strikes Back and Han Solo was frozen in carbonite and I was beside myself. So I wrote my own fix-it, even though I had no idea that’s what it was. I was 12. Then I didn’t write any more again until I was in high school and fell in love with “Remington Steele”, “Scarecrow & Mrs. King” and “Moonlighting”. I had pages of 3-ring binder paper filled with post-episode or scene extensions or fix-its. I even wrote an original “Remington Steele” fic on my IBM Selectric typewriter. I used this yellow-orange scrap paper that my mom brought home from her Army Reserve office.

When I went to college and those shows were cancelled, I got away from it. Probably because I got to write for a living as a reporter. Then, this past summer, I discovered the world of fan fiction online. I don’t even remember how I stumbled on AO3, but I fell in love when I discovered a world of people who were writing about all my favorite tv and movie characters! After I started reading, new plot bunnies of my own started hopping around in my head.

My first Barson fic was born after I saw a rerun of “Sanctuary” last summer and essentially wanted a fix-it after the last scene when Barba asks Olivia if she’s disenchanted with him and then Dodds comes in, ruining the moment. As you can see in a recent chapter of SBNL I’m not a big fan of Deputy Chief Dodds.

Do you use a story outline or just let the story go wherever it takes you? I may have an outline in my head, but I’ve never written one down. I tend to just let the story go where it takes me. I usually start out with an end game and I work to get there, or a prompt from something I read or saw and start from there. Lately, I’ve been writing future chapters as I’m inspired, even though I’ll later have to go back and link them into the plot.

What helps get you through writer's block? Reading or writing something different. I write for two different fandoms, so switching between them helps. I try and take my mind completely off of what has me stuck.

Do you use music or anything else to help motivate you while you are writing? Please elaborate if you do. I like to listen to music, but I don’t know if it motivates me. I usually don’t need any other motivation than the thoughts in my head.

Do you have any advice for aspiring fanfiction authors? Just write. Like that old Nike ad: Just do it. If you have an idea that you feel strongly about, chances are someone else does as well and will want to read it. But also, self edit. Proofread. Proofread again. Read it out loud to yourself. Picture the scene in your head to see if it makes sense. If you aren’t confident in your spelling, grammar, structure skills, ask someone to beta for you. Nothing turns me off faster as a reader than a wonderful plot that I can’t get past the first few paragraphs of because it has bad grammar or structure. I can overlook spelling errors and typos even. But not bad grammar and poor structure. And check your verb tenses! Pick one and stick with it. Don’t switch back and forth.

Does writing energize or exhaust you? I would say it energizes me while I’m doing it. But if it’s late at night when I’m done and put it away I’m exhausted.

If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be? Don’t throw any of it away! At some point I threw away all of my old, handwritten stuff from high school and now it makes me so sad! The only one I even can remember the littlest bit is the original “Remington Steele” one. I had just watched the Shogun miniseries on television so I sent them to Japan!

What was the hardest scene you've ever had to write? It was for a WIP in my other fandom and it was a love scene. I always have a hard time writing those to begin with, whether it’s rated PG or NC-17, but in this case, I didn’t want it to read like a how-to manual and needed to focus more on feelings and emotions than actual actions. It took me quite a while and several re-writes to get it the way I wanted it. But in the end it turned out perfectly.

Do reviews help or hinder your writing process? Reviews always help! I love to hear what people say about my chapters! So far I’ve only had positive feedback. I had one where the reader wasn’t particularly happy with a chapter and I felt SO guilty because I felt like I let her down that I actually contact her via IM and apologized. She told me that she still loved the story and in the end what mattered most was that it was my story and I had to write for myself. And I LOVE when I get a new reader who tells me they’re hooked!

Is there a quote that inspires you? If so, what is it? I don’t know if it inspires me, but it sums up my feelings about writing: “Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.” -- Isaac Asimov

What is your favorite fanfiction trope to write? Honestly, I’ve never written a trope. Not that I don’t enjoy reading them, but writing them has never appealed to me, although I have a bed sharing one started for Noah Benson and Jesse Rollins. It hasn’t gotten very far though.

Do you have any fanfiction recommendations? Please limit the recs to Barson fanfic only. I’ve read so so many wonderful ones, this is a VERY hard question to answer.

One of the very first ones I read was by @TribalVipe called “A Hand on Your Face in the Dark” and it kept me coming back for more by her. Another finished work by hers that I love is “Don’t Look Behind You” because it includes all three SVU couples I ship. She has a new WIP, “Paraíso Perdido“ that I’m eagerly waiting for an update.

Since the episode-that-shall-not-be-named, one of my favorite completed fix-its is “The Rediscovered Country” by @theoofoof.

I’ve not read anything by @adrianna-m-scovill that I wouldn’t recommend and I very much enjoy @khughes30’s Musical Notes one shots.

p.s. I think A Hand on Your Face in the Dark is actually written by rosehips. ~untapdtreasure

#& Author of the Month #Barson #author of the month (2018)#Olivia Benson #Rafael Barba

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theycallme-tunathot · 7 years ago

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sleep. [chapter 5] preview

Pairing: Wonho x Reader/ft. Jeon Jungkook, Kim Jisoo, Park Jinyoung, Min Yoongi and a few other idols. Rating: NC-17 or M Synopsis: Dreams keep your succubus form at bay. Your best friend has news for you and it’s stolen all of your focus. Author’s Note: Keep in mind, this is just a tiny section of the chapter. Like I said, it’s super long at this point. I’ll be posting an update Friday. Get ready for it! Also, as much as I wanted to add the Wonho stuff in, I just couldn’t. It’d give way too much of the chapter away. Let me know what you think!

“Is your phone losing time?”

Forty minutes later I was freshly showered, stuffing my face with a sandwich I grabbed from the café just off the campus’ edge, apologizing profusely for being late.

No one seemed all that peeved or annoyed by my tardiness. Well, most didn't.

"Did you not receive the text for the location change? I sent it yesterday," Jinyoung said, his voice stiff and formal.

"I did."

"Is your phone losing time?"

My eyebrow quirked up in confusion. "No?"

"We're already ten minutes into reviewing last week's lab. We're not going back for you."

Jisoo popped Jinyoung on the arm. "Stop being so rude. It's not like Y/N has been late every time we meet."

I gave her a grateful smile as I hurriedly grabbed my notebook and lab manual out of my bag, plopping a seat in between Chanyeol and Namjoon.

"You didn't miss much considering Jinyoung spent five minutes complaining about the tedious nature of having our lab manuals spiraled instead of bound or loose-leaf," Chanyeol assured, his charming smile brightening his face and seemingly the surrounding area.

My breathy laugh said thank you more than I verbally could at the moment.

Settling into my chair, highlighters, colored pens and page flags in hand, we began our study session. Typically, going over last week's lab was boring, but it kept my attention. I could easily discuss what results I got for the experiment and even argue over verbiage to use while writing up my lab report. But today was strange. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the page in front of me and actively participate in the conversation around me, my mind just wouldn't allow it.

Instead, my mind drifted off to random moments in conversation with Wonho. It seemed my mind was looking to overanalyze every little thing that happened between us. Thankfully, we didn't have many conversations and each one was relatively short-lived thanks to my fight or flight reflexes kicking in at the very last second. But still, it was enough to keep me in and out of the current conversation I should've definitely been involved in.

"Yo, ground control to Y/N!"

Fingers were snapping right by my ear, making me shake back into the current moment. Wide-eyed, I looked around as the whole group had their eyes on me. Jinyoung huffed out an aggravated sigh. Chanyeol seemed amused while Jisoo checked her phone. Namjoon seemed to be the one staring at me in confusion, his hand still lifted and idling beside my head.

"What?"

"We were asking your opinion on the oxidizing section of the experiment," Jinyoung supplied exasperatedly.

"Oh," I replied lamely, looking down and noticing I was on the wrong page. Flipping through a few pages, I wondered how long I'd been out of it for me to be four pages behind the group. "I, uh—I think—you said oxidizing, right?"

Another agitated sigh fell from Jinyoung, followed by Jisoo jabbing her elbow into his side. Chanyeol hid another laugh behind his notebook and I closed my eyes, embarrassed beyond belief.

Namjoon clapped his hands and stood up. "I think this is a good stopping place for a break. I'm heading to the student center for a drink. Taking drink orders."

Jinyoung thankfully yelled about needing a coffee with triple shots of espresso. Chanyeol quietly gave out a tea order and Jisoo replied she was fine with her water. I told him I wasn't sure.

"Do you want to come with me then? Help me carry the drinks? Maybe you'll see something you want."

Immediately I stood. This was a perfect escape and maybe this would offer me some time to breathe and clear my mind. "Yes, let's do that."

It was already dark on campus by the time Namjoon and I walked to the campus student center. The pace was casual despite how cool the night air was around us. Campus at night should've been a scary sight considering how few people dotted the usually bustling grounds, the dark corners and patches of walkways and how everything just felt more unknown despite traveling these paths every day. But I found peace in the stillness of my surroundings. It probably helped that I was with a tall guy like Namjoon, who, while he lost a fight to his tiny middle school sister in public, at least looked like he could take on just about anybody. Tall and a little stronger than the image his thin frame would have one believe.

"Are you okay?"

I blinked a couple of times as I looked up at him, my eyes catching his dark brown ones. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, you just seem distracted tonight."

Because I am.

"Oh, I'm just tired," I trailed off, wondering if that seemed like a good cover-up. Probably not.

"No, it's not exhaustion, I've seen you exhausted, this is something else."

There was no use in praying for Namjoon to let it go. It's not like I had anyone to pray to and even then, Namjoon liked puzzles. Right now I was posing a challenge because I was acting weird and not being forthcoming with the reason why after he plainly asked for one. While he was the next quietest member of the study group just in front of me, it wasn't for lack of observation. He was quiet because he was an observer. Wickedly perceptive, this lanky guy always stored every little thing he saw into some memory bank and knew when to use it or when to keep it handy for a later time. That always surprised and scared me about him.

Now, it was just a nuisance.

I shrugged. "I don’t think I get what you mean.”

"At the beginning of the semester you were obviously exhausted, dark circles under your eyes, the whole lot. But you were really involved even then," he answered, using his hands for emphasis. "But this isn't exhaustion. You're clearly distracted by something."

"Clearly?" I asked, my voice colored with skepticism.

"Clearly. You didn't even know what page we were on."

"I got lost, I thought we were on something else."

"That doesn't even include the fact that I saw you staring at the carpet for at least a good three minutes before you went to stare at a blank filler page in the lab manual for at least ten minutes."

So, it seemed Namjoon had all of his facts. He had everything he needed to call me out for lying. My mind seemed to begin shutting down, offering no ideas for how to combat this intrusion into my life. But then it started to dawn on me: The only other person who knew about any of this was my overly smug best friend and I wasn't going to discuss this with him again any time soon. And if I didn't speak about it to someone soon, I might really have a mental breakdown.

And Namjoon was a trustworthy guy. He didn't superfluously talk about much of anything, let alone others. He hardly talked about himself. He could possibly be a good ally in this situation. Possibly. I assumed it mainly due to the fact that even if this conversation would veer into the territory of awkward or downright humiliating, it would stick between us.

He also struck me as a non-judgmental guy.

At least that's what my gut told me on our first meeting and Namjoon hadn't done anything to change that opinion just yet.

"Are you okay?"

Pressing my lips into a thin line, I considered just how nerve racking all of this was. I was about to divulge my own personal thoughts to a guy who knew so little about me. It was a break with tradition slightly, considering this was really why I had Jungkook around, but it seemed my best friend set me up for a situation like this. After all, I would've never known Wonho if it wasn't for Jungkook. I also would've never had that first meeting with Wonho without Jungkook dragging me to the gym.

Cocking my head to the side, my eyebrows furrowed as I looked straight ahead. "It's...complicated?"

"Are you not sure about the complexity of your situation or...?"

I shouldn’t have replied with a question. Namjoon wanted clarity and I was stuck here still unsure of how to explain that I was confused and frustrated with myself.

"No?"

"How about I rephrase this," he said, turning his head to look at me. "Do you need to talk to anyone? I mean, it doesn't have to be me. If you're more comfortable explaining or talking it over with a girl, I'm sure Jisoo would be willing to help you out. But I am here if you need to talk."

I nodded mutely, beginning to understand that over the month or so of the semester, somehow, my biology study group had become closer than I expected. We were in ways, non-conventional friends. We didn't necessarily hang out on the weekends, go to parties together, sleep over at each other's apartments, houses or dorm rooms. But the two hours we spent together three times a week? It seemed we all had grown fond of each other's company and began to care.

A deep breath was heaved as I looked up at Namjoon. It was now or never really. If I wasn't going to share the nagging and frustrating sensation that seemed to cloud my mind, I would've wasted an opportunity. I just hoped I wouldn't make this anymore awkward than it had to be.

"Are you a virgin?"

Fucking hell.

#kpoptrashtag #wonho smut #shin hoseok smut #wonho #shin hoseok #wonho scenarios #wonho scenario #wonho imagine #wonho imagines #wonho fanfic #shin hoseok scenarios #shin hoseok scenario #shin hoseok imagines #shin hoseok imagine #shin hoseok fanfic

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northpolenotes · 6 years ago

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Auntieviews Volume 1 : Debbie Denise-Acosta – The Sweet Potato Fry Aunt

Hello there fellow Aunts and Aunties. I have started a new series of blog posts called Auntieviews. I have sought after intelligent, active, and loving Aunts who would like to share their stories of Aunthood. This is Volume I of series where I’m featuring Debbie Denise-Acosta. I recently had the pleasure of meeting and subsequently interviewing this fantastic Aunt and fellow Long Islander. Debbie is a Controller for a large consulting company in New York City. She’s been an Aunt by relation for 27 years to her sister’s two children, Alyssa (27) and Anthony (22). She grew up in the Bronx, New York and lived there until she got married. In 2001, she and her husband decided to take a big leap and bought a home on Long Island to be closer to her sister and family.

Background.

Debbie and her husband are huge sports fans. If you’re in the New York Metropolitan area, there’s a good chance you’ll spot them at a home game, rooting for their favorite teams, the NY Giants, and The Islanders. And even though it’s sometimes hard to be a Mets fan, they still manage to find it in their hearts to make it to a few of their games too. But they don’t stop at professional sports either. Because Debbie’s niece is a UNC Chapel Hill alumni, Debbie and her husband have become huge UNC men’s basketball fans. They’re so devoted to that team that they planned their 20th wedding anniversary to Hawaii around the Maui Invitational Tournament where UNC was competing. UNC must have sensed it cause they gave them a great anniversary present – they won!

Debbie also travels a lot as another one of her hobbies. She’ll make sure to get away either near or far at least 3-4 times per year. So what does that have to do with her being a fantastic Aunt? Well, on at least 1 or 2 of those trips each year, she’ll bring her niece, nephew, or godchild along with her. You’re the best, Aunt Deb!

Pre-interview.

It quickly came to my attention during our lunch together the Debbie would be an ideal candidate for my Auntieviews. We shared similar viewpoints on how we view Aunthood and our niblings. Debbie said something that made me smile that day which pretty much sealed the deal for me. She said, “You don’t have to be a Mom to be a Mom.” So I asked her if she’d like to be interviewed to share her story as an Aunt and she graciously agreed.

The Interview.

Do you live close to your nieces and nephews or are you a long-distance aunt?

I lived close to my niece and nephew until my niece went to the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. She graduated 4 years ago but decided to stay in NC, where she is now a 4th-grade teacher. My nephew has been at the University of Delaware for the past 4 years but is coming home to Long Island after he graduates this weekend.

Even though your niblings needs have evolved from when they were very young until now, is there anything that has remained a constant?

This may not be a “need” but they always check in with me when they have something important going on. For example, my nephew texted me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that he was going to his fraternity’s spring formal. It might not sound like much, but it means a lot to me that they still both want to tell me about what’s going on in their lives.

As an aunt what’s the biggest value you feel you bring to the family?

I am fiercely loyal to my friends and family and have tried to instill that in my niblings. I see it in my niece with her college roommate. They were roommates for all 4 years and have remained very close friends. Her roommate just graduated from medical school and my niece drove up for her “match” day and then flew up 2 weeks later for her graduation.

What is one of the biggest difficulties you’ve experienced as an Aunt? How did you overcome it if at all?

My biggest difficulty has been when I didn’t agree with the way my sister did not discipline my nephew when he was around 2 years old. As background, our mother and father had died the year before and my sister, who had been very close to my mom, was having a hard time not having my mom around. My nephew wasn’t the best-behaved child, but when he was alone with me, he would listen to what he was told. Then when my sister would arrive, he would act out and not listen. It came to a point when I told my sister that I couldn’t be around them if she didn’t reprimand him. She did try to make him behave after that. I also would disengage with him if he was acting up. Happily, as he got a little older, he behaved so much better.

What’s your proudest moment as an aunt?

Seeing my niece grow into a confident young woman. When she left for college she seemed a little timid to try new things. She made friends with people from many different backgrounds and became very involved in her school. She even bungee jumped while she was in Switzerland–something that I almost wish she was too timid to try!

If you go back in time and give your younger and self a piece of advice but would it be? And why?

To not be afraid to get out of my comfort zone. I tend to stick with bad situations for much longer than I should. I get comfortable with things and worry that something new might be an even worse situation.

What is one good piece of advice that you would give it to any new Aunt?

If it’s their first time being around a newborn, don’t worry-babies are stronger than they look, so don’t be afraid to hold them. I still remember snuggling my niblings when they were just born. It is the greatest feeling in the world.

I was once told that being a Mom is all cake and being an Aunt is like icing on the cake. How do you feel about that comparison?

I think that is an unfair comparison. Aunts are much more than sugar-coated toppings!

If you had to compare your relationship as an aunt to a food what would it be and why?

I never really thought about it, but the first thing that came to mind is that moms are like french fries and aunts are like sweet potato fries. A little different but both yummy.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts:

I hope that you enjoyed reading Debbie’s story. Like many of my fellow Aunts, you can see that she is quite active in her niblings lives. She’s worked hard throughout her years of Aunthood to establish strong bonds with them. Even though they are now Adults, the fact that they still turn to her to include her in their lives means that she’s done a fantastic job to nurture their relationship. I’d like to thank Debbie for sharing her story of Aunthood with my readers. I hope that her story inspires you all to start building a strong relationship with your niblings, both near and far.

I’d love to hear from more Aunts! If you’d like to share your story of Aunthood please contact me using the form below!

[contact-form-7]

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ohhkkaebsonggg · 7 years ago

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Title: Mis à Nu Pairing: artist!wonho ✗ student!reader AU: artist! ✗ college! Genre: angst, artistic humour, slight fluff, Rated: NC-21+ Summary: He was an artist looking for a student who had guts and strength but also the gentle hand that could make a circle look a million dollars. You were that student, sure you had the gentle hand but did you have the guts? Shin Hoseok was handsome but he was serious when it came to art as well, what was he famous for mostly? Painting the exposed physique. A/N: Okay, so this is my first Monsta X series type anything. I hope you all like it, smut will be in the later chapters for now it’s angst and slight artistic humour. Also shout out to @btsfanficss as she’s an inspiring writer and I love her work and promised to tag her in my own. Word Count: 7.8K | ❶ | ② | ③ | ④ | ⑤ | ⑥ | ⑦ | ⑧ | ⑨ |

It was one thing to get accepted into art school, but you never thought you’d actually end up landing in the top three to go help curate an art show for the Shin Hoseok. He was a legend, his first ever art piece was his bedroom wall which he drew on as a child.

But it wasn’t just drawings, it was art, creativity, it’s what drove him to be the greatest artist of all time. You had read many books on him, his own autobiography he wrote, watched interviews even sat one of his live talks.

One thing you adored was his explicit taste, in the human body and how he sees it. Using various colours, textures and techniques to show it in all different ways. You were nervous, this was a dream come true. All you had to do was pass the exam, go to the fancy gallery dinner and then wait.

You continued to doubt yourself, there was ten minutes before you had to go in and settle into your seat and really focus. You had studied all the books, looked over all the websites yet you felt like you were walking in with a completely blank mind.

They didn’t say what the exam would be about, they barely even mentioned it in all honestly, they just said ‘there will be an exam.’ And so, you went straight to the library, spending as much time there studying as you could.

Your best friend and roommate both thought you were crazy and needed to calm down, but you had no time for messing about like they did. They didn’t understand what the fuss was until you had to put it in a way they would understand.

Of course it was no use, they still had little understanding of it but you just shrugged them off and continued studying. You glanced down at your watch, seeing time fly by so quickly. Miss Kim walking out and greeting you along with the other two female students that were chosen.

“Please come in.” She said before turning on her heel and walking back inside, expecting to see three desks with test sheets you sat three A1 canvases, bare and palettes filled with selective colours.

“Ladies, you have one hour to paint a nude. Be careful, these will be shown at the gallery tonight. Please go stand by the canvas and have your brushes in hand.” You walked over to the far right one, picking up a fairly normal sized brush and glancing at your professor.

Waiting for her approval, she looked at her watch. Eyes waiting for the hand to hit noon exactly.

“You may start.” She went and took her seat and you turned to your bare canvas, what could you do? Okay so you had the colours of brown, white, blue, red, yellow and black. An hour to paint it all onto an A1 sized surface.

You could do this, you placed the soft cream bristles into the white, bringing the colour to mix with the brown a bit to create a lighter shade. Almost of a tan skin tone. And so, you began your basic outline of the body.

Starting with the back, making it arched slightly to show the curved of the butt. Once you had a basic shape and outline you picked up the palette knife, grabbing some of the chalk paint to mix in with your own paint. Creating a thick texture before applying to the canvas.

Making sure to thickly layer it on as you go, You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing but you were going with the flow in a way. You had the back and butt done with slight tonal and shading with darker shades used.

The arms were by her side and her hair flowers to halfway below her shoulders. The thick stokes and plain white background all had a meaning to you. The sound of an old alarm clock began ringing throughout the studio and you glanced at your piece.

Pleasantly surprised with your work, you never have yourself a lot of good feedback. But now the more you stared at it and compared to the others, you realised that you could have done so, so, so much better.

They had scenery, variety of colours in theirs making it more interesting and friendly while yours looked like every other piece an artist has probably done. You sighed, placing the painting knife down and leaving after you signed your work.

You had five hours before you had to be showered, dressed and ready for this stupid galley show tonight. Great, now everyone could see and judge your crappy artwork. Just what you wanted.

You headed straight back to your dorm and showered, there was no time to waste at this point. You needed to be there in time to meet some artists and get advice. You also wanted to guard your piece and maybe keep people away from it so they aren’t blinded.

After dressing yourself in a powder blue cocktail dress that hugged your body you did your make-up and hair. Grabbing your clutch, keys and phone and taking them with you as you drove yourself to this gallery. Your phone decided to be a fuck up though and stop working halfway there.

Making it impossible for you to arrive. You finally did, at six thirty in the fucking evening. You were an hour and a half late to an exhibition featuring your own artwork. You walked inside, earning looks from guests around. You looked at the walls, eyes finally locking with your piece.

You strutted over towards it, coming to a quick stop when you saw one tall gentleman with his hands tucked away in his pickets observing the piece.

You slowly walked towards it, acting like a normal person just looking at a painting. You glanced in his direction, seeing his side profile which showed such angelic features. The dim lighting from the lights that hovered above your canvas made his face glow.

“It’s rude to stare you know?” He muttered while he kept his gaze on the painting, you quickly withdrew yourself back and looked up at the terribly done picture.

“Sorry.” You apologised, going quiet and wondering when this guy was going to leave.

“I like this piece, it says something.” He spoke once again, you turned your head to look at him. This time taking in his features quicker so you weren’t caught staring. He had fair skin, not too pale but not dark either.

A pair of rounded frames sat on the bridge of his nose, light chocolate brown curls just hovered above his eyes. His lips were plump and mesmerising, and his eyes. Although you couldn’t see into them much, the lights reflected into them as if they were glass.

“Byun Baekhyun.” He said finally turning to you, holding out his hand while you glanced at it. You placed your own on his and looked up to meet his sharp gaze.

“Y/n L/n.” You introduced yourself, going to shake his hand instead he brought your hand to his lips and pressed them against it. They were warm and soft, exactly how they looked.

“So, I get to meet the famous Y/n L/n.” He said with a slight smile and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

“I-I wouldn’t say that.” You said looking down at your feet, embarrassed. He used his index finger to push your chin back up and look into your eyes.

“I adore your artwork. I have a friend that’s actually looking for a student to help with him this autumn. Shin Hoseok?” Your eyes went wide, was this guy joking.

“Y-You know Shin Hoseok?” You asked shocked and he nodded before adjusting his glasses on his face slightly.

“We’ve been close friends for a long time. I’m sure someone like you would enjoy his company.” He said and as much as you wanted to say yes, those two other girls put in just as much time and effort into this as you did. Possibly even more.

“As good as that sounds, it’s not fair. Those girls are amazing and have a better chance. I’d hate for him to waste an opportunity on someone like me. But thank you.” You said and he nodded, accepting your declination.

“Well if you ever change your mind, you know who to contact to get to me.” He said before you nodded and walked off towards the buffet table. Baekhyun pulled out his phone and went into his contacts before clicking on the familiar number.

Holding his phone up to his ear as he listened to the sounds of ringing, shoving the other into the pocket of his dress pants.

“Hoseok? Hello, how you been old friend? That’s good. Look, I don’t want to try and play favourites but I think I found you your girl.” Baekhyun said as his eyes trailed up your figure. You were like an angel to him, he’d never seen someone to beautiful.

“Y/n, L/n. She’s an art student and applying for your programme. I promise you, she is not a waste of time.”

Your phone was working but your car broke down halfway back to campus which means you were walking in the dark, in a cocktail dress and uncomfortable heels with no reception. It felt like hours had gone by and not a single car and passed.

And when you thought all hope was lost you saw headlights approaching fast and quick, slowing as they got closer to you. You prayed it wasn’t some creep mistaking you for a prostitute or something. They wound down their window.

That face looked so familiar but it was so dark and you were so tired you didn’t even care at this point.

“Are you okay? Do you need a ride?” The man’s husky voice asked as you nodded, stepping towards the car door and opening it before sliding in.

“Where to?” He asked, placing his hand on the gear stick and the other resting on the wheel.

“Just Kyung Hee University.” You said and he nodded, keeping his face in the shadows. You felt a little uncomfortable getting a ride from a complete stranger but what else were you supposed to do? Sit around and wait for a friend to show up?

The drive was quiet, it felt like the drive was taking hours even though it was only twenty-two minutes to get there.

When he pulled up outside the school grounds you thanked him and hurried out of the car before running to your dorm.

You peeled the tight clothing from your body and kicked off the heels that were causing your feet to blister and grow sore. Not even caring about showering or putting on other clothes you fell right into the squeaky mattress and fell asleep.

Waking up the next morning to loud banging on your door made you drag yourself out of bed and throw on a t-shirt and answer it. Seeing your best friend with a large grin on her face as she tried to hide the excitement that was dying to burst out.

“It’s here.” She waved the white envelop in his hand as you reached out and grabbed it while pulling her inside and sitting down on your bed. Her sitting opposite with you as she watched with a smile as you stared at it, reading the label.

You bit your lip before tearing open the top in straight line before sliding out the folded paper, shaky hands unfolding it neatly before eyes scanning over the letter.

“Dear Miss L/n, we would gladly like to inform you that you have been chosen out of the top three nominated students and will be attending the six weeks as a student working under great artist Shin Hoseok…!” You squealed with excitement, jumping forwards into your best friend’s arms.

“I knew you would get it! You have amazing talent and you worked so hard for that position.” She said as you pulled back and reread the letter quickly making sure it’s real. Black on white.

“I can’t believe it. I mean I’m glad I got it but…why me?” You said slightly shocked, this is all you’ve ever dreamed about and it’s happening.

“So, when do you start?” She asked as you look back down and read over the details.

“Next week, four in the morning!?” You almost screamed at the time you had to be up and at that place by. Was this for real?

“Damn, why do they want you to start so early?” She asked, peering at the letter to see no reason as to why you must start at such a ridiculous time of the morning.

You were already swamped with your other studies and keeping on top of them, how were you supposed to do that and do this?

Maybe you should reconsider this, sure it is a one in a life time opportunity but this should go to someone who has time and deserves it. You looked up to make eye contact with your best friend.

That look on your face which she immediately recognised and shook her head while crossing her arms over her chest.

“No. No. Absolutely not. You worked just as hard for this shit, even more plus did you other subjects. I can take notes in class for you and help with your homework and assignments. Do not give this up please.” She begged and you sighed.

Maybe you could do this, you nodded your head and agreed.

“But if it gets too much for you then you tell me okay? I don’t want you swamped with work just because you have to do my stuff too. Deal?” You held out her hand and with a smirk and a nod she shook it and agreed.

“Deal.”

“Now, what am I going to wear on my first day?”

First impressions were important, not with just attitude but with how you look as well. After many hours and even days of trying to decide what to wear you went with a beige skater skirt and a tucked in white blouse.

You had your hair pulled back into a low bun with strands handing out and decorating the shape of your face. Your rounded golden rim glasses sat on the bridge of your nose and your art diary tucked into your arms carefully.

Along with notes and your own paint brushes. You got your friend to drop you off, so there you stood. Outside the large building that looked like it was old and falling to pieces. You walked up to the door, looking down at the address and number to make sure it’s correct.

You pressed the button for the apartment number and heard a loud buzzing before a little silence followed.

“Name and what do you want?” You heard a deep voice boom from the speaker and you jumped a little.

“U-Uhm, Y/n L/n and I-I’m here for t-the art thi-ng?” You stuttered, your cheeks heating up. There was silence on the other end before a loud buzzing was made again and the door creaked open a little. Allowing you to open it wider and step into the building.

There wasn’t an elevator which meant you had to walk up 5 sets of stairs before getting to his apartment. On the way up you kept trying out things to say and all.

“Hi, it’s so nice to be working with you.” You said in a chirpy tone, shaking your head as you realised it sounded fake and girly.

“Thank you for allowing this opportunity. I take this very seriously.” You said in slight monotone, it made you sound grown up but also like you were trying to make yourself sound older.

“I thank you for accepting me, what shall we start with?” You said in your normal happy tone, it wasn’t perfect but at least it didn’t sound fake or forced. Before you knew it, you were standing outside his door.

Hesitating to knock, you hand had been balled into a fist and ready to knock but thoughts that hadn’t even crossed your mind started to swirl.

What if he doesn’t like me? What if I look too slutty? Will he be mean? Can I actually do this?

You knocked softly three times, hearing only silence as you gripped your book tightly enough for your knuckles to turn white. You held your breath, your eyes growing watering from the lack of oxygen.

Finally, you heard some movement meaning the man was still alive, the door opening and there he stood. A white shirt clung to his body, he wore black sweatpants and grey socks. He had his glasses pushed up so they day on top his head pushing his hair off his forehead.

His brown locks sticking in different directions as if he hadn’t brushed it or combed it. That breath you had been holding slowly left your body, allowing you to suck in another deep breath.

“Ah, the student?” He asked with a slight smirked, you could only nod and look anywhere else but at him.

“Well come on in and we’ll get started.” His eyes quickly scanned over your frame as he said so before shuffling back into his apartment with you to follow. You closed the door and watched him disappear behind a door, you just stood awkwardly as you looked around.

Seeing many famous paintings and some his own he must have painted, all different styles, colours and techniques. They went well against the white plain wall. Hoseok returned just moments later with a silver tray and two tea cups with steam flowing out the tops.

A small bowl of sugar cubes sat between them as he placed them down on the coffee table and gestured for you to sit on the couch.

“I made you some tea, I want to thank you for coming to early. I understand it’s not a good time to be up and working but you have a lot to learn. So we’ll have tea and then I’ll take you to my studio and we can get started…what was your name again?” You wanted to frown but smiled instead and repeated your name.

You tried to remind yourself that he must have a busy life and so him not remembering your name wasn’t the end of the world but this man was your idol. Someone you looked up to and strived to be in so many ways.

He had confidence, rhythm, techniques and a way that made him to not only loved by many but desired by the opposite sex too.

Women wanted to be with him, men wanted to be him. He was just so balanced and into this world and that’s all you’ve ever wanted. A place to be in this world.

“Right, now we shall start. Follow me.” He stood up and began walking down a hallway, you stood and followed. His studio was in his own apartment? That’s new but interesting. You watched as he twisted an old rusty doorknob and opened up to a bright room.

The silk curtains had been opened to let the warm sun beam in, there in the room stood a few canvases in a semi-circle around a small what looks to be a couch or bed of some sort. Some of the canvases were just started, you could see the outline of curves.

Some had colour, watercolour to be specific added to them. The body shaped and positioned in ways a normal human probably could achieve with willing enough. Some were unrealistic and some were.

He walked over to one and removed the large canvas, placing a new blank one on instead before retrieving a set of watercolours and paint brushes.

“Oh it’s okay, I have my own paint brushes. They’re my lucky ones.” You stated, showing him the few you held tightly in your hand. He scoffed at your comment and rolled his eyes. Did he really just do that?

“Jennie!” He called out, you were confused and about to tell him your name was not Jennie when a door opened and a completely naked woman walked out and towards you two. You looked away, feeling red colour your cheeks as she approached you two.

“Ah Jennie, this is y/n. She’s an amateur art student who has come to learn under me. Y/n this is Jennie, my partner.” You didn’t know why but your body froze. Partner? Your mind circled with the definition.

Partner;

1. a person who takes part in an undertaking with another or others, especially in a business or firm with shared risks and profits.

either of two people dancing together or playing a game or sport on the same side.

either member of a married couple or of an established unmarried couple.

a person with whom one has sex; a lover.

a friendly form of address by one man to another.

Maybe they were just close friends, wait why do you care? You are just here to paint and learn and get this over with. Who this man has any sexual relationship with is none of your business. You nodded to whatever they were saying and turned to your canvas. Picking up your pencil ready to start.

“What are you doing?” He asked glancing at your hand with what can only be described as a confused and irritated look.

“I usually draw my outline in pencil before I start.” You said softly, he pulled the pencil out of your hand and threw it across the room. You just stood there in shock and scared.

“No, we don’t do grade five shit. Pick up your paint brush and get started.” He spat, why was he so angry all of a sudden? Not long ago he was a gentleman and made you tea and welcomed you nicely?

You nodded and quietly begun, trying not to stare and show your awkwardness. It was a little hard since a tall woman stood naked in the room in a very what you can only say is a ‘sexual position’ to you.

You glanced over to Hoseok’s canvas to see him doing so well, his eyes trained on her body carefully as he painted what he could see on the canvas. He ran his tongue over his lips and glanced back at his canvas, watching his hand glide along the soft surface.

Creating shape, colour, mood and more. You looked at your own, seeing how realistic it had been trying to be. Maybe you should try something unrealistic. You washed your paint brush off the beige skin colour and began to apply a navy blue instead.

Gliding it along where the beige sat, but doing it in a way that made half of the body navy and the other half skin colour. You continued, working in with other colours of red, yellows and purples. Enjoying how it was turning out.

Hoseok sighed as he put his paintbrush down and looked at his canvas, to him it was another stupid nude piece that would never sell for more than 2,000₩. He bit his lip as he glanced at your canvas, watching your hand glide and create such a big expression.

How is some college student able to do something so beautiful when I can’t even do a body? He though as his eyes moved from the canvas to you. Seeing the trained look in your eyes as you worked. Blocking out the world and distractions.

“Times up.” He growled, causing you to jump and luckily your brush didn’t flinch as you did. Jennie let out a sigh of relief as she got up and stretched her body out from staying in such a position for so long. She walked back into the room and you assume she’s going to get dressed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. You held your breath once again, trying to find your voice somehow.

“I-I was just doing w-what I thought you wanted me to do.” You stuttered and tripped over your words, you could feel your eyes stinging with tears. What was this man’s problem?

“Well stop trying. You are here to learn and follow my orders.” With that he let you go and stormed off to another room. You stood there shocked and confused as to why he was suddenly being an asshole.

“Well I’ve never met such an asshole.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you spun around to glance at your piece. It had some type of glow to it? You weren’t sure if it was just the bright lighting through the apartment window of the early sun or maybe it did have a glow.

You began pacing back and forth, trying ti figure out what to say to this man to try and get him to calm down or at least stop being cold towards you in a way.

“Hello sir, I’m so sorry for causing you any trouble and I do want to learn--no that sounds too ‘pet teacher.’” You said to yourself as you shook your head and continued pacing.

“Excuse my behavior, I don’t work well in new environ--fuck no. Fuck! Fucking hell. Why am I so shit at all of this? He’s a fucking dick and needs to grow a pair and get over the fact he has a tiny cock!”

“I have a tiny cock?” You heard a stifled laugh come from the other side of the room and spun around to see him standing there. His hair still pushed back by his glasses and a look in his eye that send shivers down your spine.

“I-uh, no! That’s not what I meant. I meant to say ‘clock’ cause you have one on the wall that’s very very tiny and I can’t read the time on it. I-uh, I should actually go. Coming here was a mistake this was a mistake.” You said reaching and grabbing your cardigan and bag.

Going to walk past him but instead he grabbed your arms and pushed you against the nearest wall. His face only inches from yours but his lips only millimeters and they hovered over your own trembling one.

“You leave when I say you do.” His tone was demanding, very dominant, very...

“Daddy.” As soon as the word slipped you slammed your hands over your mouth and pushed past him and out of the building as fast as your feet would drag you. This was not happening, you did not just say that to your mentor.

What the fuck happened? It’s like you had no control over your mouth at that time. Out of all the times you could have embarrassed yourself with words it had to be then and there didn’t it?

You sighed as you walked down the sidewalk, completely unaware of anyone or anything. Your shoulder barging into another and you looked up to apologise to the person only to see eyes you’ve seen before.

“Baekhyun?” You questioned just to make sure you were talking to the right guy.

“Y/n, it’s nice to see you here. What are you doing here?” He asked as you chuckled and brushed some loose strands behind your ear and glanced down at your shoes.

“I um, just finished my first lesson with Hoseok. I got in! I can’t believe it. It’s been...great. Really great.” He gave you this look where he wasn’t sure whether to believe you or not.

“Why am I having trouble believing you?” He asked and you smiled and shrugged your shoulders.

“I--”

“Y/n, there you are. You forgot this at mine.” Hoseok suddenly piped in, holding up the navy blue cardigan you must have dropped when he pushed you up against the wall. You were so stunned you didn’t even notice.

“Oh Baekhyun, good to see you. I see you’ve been talking to y/n.” Hoseok glanced at your for a second.

“Yes, we just bumped into each other. I was about to run over to yours actually and tell you about this true artist competition coming up that y/n might be interested in. This is her chance to get her name out there.” Baekhyun said gesturing to you.

“Well I’ll discuss it with my student. Come along y/n, we still have a lot to work on.” Hoseok said but you shook your head.

“Actually, I’m kind of unwell. I think I’m going to head back to campus.” You said, rubbing your stomach slightly.

“I’ll walk you home.” Baekhyun said, going to place his hand on your waist but Hoseok instead pulled you into him and smiled at Baekhyun.

“Actually, I think I should take her home, I know her address.” And with those words you were being dragged to wherever the heck Hoseok decided to take you. You were a little scared, what was he going to do to you?

Was he really going to take you home? Or take you to his apartment to abuse you or something for running out like that. You kept your mouth shut the entire time, afraid if you spoke you might upset him more than he already seems to be.

You arrived back at his apartment, you tried to keep your distance from him but it was a little hard with him backing you up against the wall. You felt a little intimidated by his height and how close his body was to yours.

His cologne was strong and filled your nostrils, you weren’t sure what he was wearing but it was beautiful.

“If you ever speak to Byun Baekhyun again, I will end any chance you have at becoming an artist. I’m a very powerful man, I can do things that people wouldn’t even dream.” His harsh tone mixed with his words frightened you.

Was this man crazy? Thoughts on what to say swirled in your head, you wanted to practice them, a habit you gained from a child. But nothing seemed to want to leave your mouth. You decided to nod and try and squeeze past the man and out the door.

Taking the fastest way you could back to campus so you could just hide. Your nerves burned and you fell a buzz rush through your body as soon as you made it into your room. Throwing off your cardigan and slipping off your shoes before sitting down.

Your head spun and your chest heaved up in down, what had you gotten yourself into? This man was very weird and different from what you had read and seen from on stage events. You could feel your stomach bubble and mind twist to come up with a solution.

Listen. That’s all you could do for now, just listen and follow orders that he gives you and then you can paint and gain experience and then he’ll write a reference letter for you guaranteeing you a gallery show of all your artworks and then you can officially get your name out there.

Easier said than done.

You ended up falling asleep and waking up to your phone ringing like crazy, who was trying to disturb your slumber? You grabbed your phone, blinking harshly so your eyes could focus as they got used to the bright glow of the screen.

‘Kim Taehyung is Calling…’

You sighed and answered the call, holding the phone up to your ear to listen to your brother probably yell into the phone about something.

“WHY IS NUI UPSET!?” You winced as his voice bombarded your ear and nearly made you go deaf.

“I don’t know, what did you do?” You asked, voice hoarse as you sat yourself up and brushed your fingers through your bed hair.

“I don’t know. I did everything right. I put the toilet seat down after using it, I did the washing, I folded the clothes and put them away in the correct drawer.” He explained and you nodded, responding with a hum.

“Have you said anything that might of made her upset with you?” You asked and you heard silence for a minute.

“I don’t think so. I was telling her about work giving me more hours and—“

“Ah, see. You did something without consulting her and so she’s upset about that.” You explained and he finally understood.

“Ooohhhh. I’ll talk to her, thanks so much sis.” He said and you smiled to yourself, where would your brother be without you?

“Okay, give my love to Nui and tell mum when you see her next I’m doing great. Love you bro.” He said his goodbyes and hung up, you got out of your bed and slipped into something more comfortable.

Some silk pink shorts and a simple dark grey t-shirt, letting your hair fall out as you slipped on some slippers and grabbed your wallet. It was time for a late night trip to McDonalds for dinner. Only a three minute walk from where you were.

You walked in, thinking on what you want as you read the menu. You finally walked up and ordered, getting your receipt and waiting for it to be ready. Once it was you walked outside, not looking as you bumped into another figure.

“So sorry sir.” You apologised, bowing slightly before meeting their eyes. A smirk appeared across their face as you recognized them.

“Mr. Shin what brings you here?” You asked stuttering throughout your sentence as you avoided eye contact as much as you could.

“I was just getting something to eat quickly. I didn’t realise the time I was so busy painting. Care to join me?” He asked but you only shook your head and was on your way.

Things felt so weird around him now, you didn’t feel comfortable or anything. You just felt like you were, a waste of space.

“I’m sorry, you were pestering me about this before you were selected and now you want to quit? What changed your mind?” Your professor crossed her arms over her chest as you played with your fingers.

“He just is weird. He has a different mood like every five minutes. He was nice in the start then something changed I guess? I don’t know, but I can’t keep seeing him.” You said calmly as she began chucking.

“What?” You asked confused as to why she would laugh at a student’s safety.

“What Mr. Shin Hoseok has Miss L/n is a condition called ‘Bipolar.’ It’s when he has an often change of mood. I’m sure with a little research you can find out a way for you two to get along.” Her hand directed towards the door of her office.

Stating for you to ‘leave’ while she got back to her work. You had heard of the condition before but never thought that an artist like Shin Hoseok would suffer from it. You decided to take her advice, getting into your laptop and researching what it was and how you could handle it.

A lot of web pages and books written about how to handle someone with this issue and what things they don’t like. After some time you finally put the laptop away and grabbed your coat before taking a walk outside.

You wanted to walk around for a bit, get to know the city in a way. You decided to call Baekhyun to ask if he wanted to show you around, you pulled out your phone and dialled the number for his assistant who would transfer you to him.

“Byun Baekhyun’s office.” The lady answered as you stopped and moved to the side so people could walk past while you talked and stood in the stop.

“Hi, my name is Y/n L/n I was—“

“Oh yes! Mr Byun said to let him know when you called. I’ll put you through.” And within seconds Baekhyun’s voice was ringing in your ears like a beam of sunlight warming you up on a cold day.

“I thought you’d never call again.” He chuckled, a smile broke out on your face.

“Actually I was wondering if you wanted to give me a tour around the city maybe? We could meet up outside a restaurant and maybe get something to eat?” You asked, you weren’t sure if he could hear the shakiness in your voice but he still agreed.

“I’d love to. Where do you want to meet up at?” He asked, you looked around. Spotting a simple restaurant before glancing at the name.

“Minho’s?” You suggested and heard a small hum.

“Alright. See you soon.” He hung up and you headed over to wait, sitting down in the seat and waiting quietly for Baekhyun to show.

As soon as the call ended Baekhyun couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, he began getting ready. Putting on a simple white button up shirt tucked into some blue jeans and putting on some shoes before grabbing his sunglasses and slipping them onto his face.

He left this apartment quickly and began heading down the pathway to the restaurant, he was thinking about what he would talk about with you once he got there. He didn’t want to talk about work or jobs or Hoseok.

He’d prefer to keep it casual, normal conversations about interests and dislikes. He was practically power walking down the side-walk, people giving him funny looks as he went by which he ignored. Until he ran into someone he didn’t want to see today.

“Baekhyun, it’s nice to see you today. Where you off to?” He asked, a small smirk on his face and Baekhyun tried to think of a quick excuse.

“Just out for lunch with a friend.” It wasn’t a total lie, he was going to lunch and you were just a friend…for now.

“Who’s the friend?” Hoseok asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Baekhyun’s face slightly stiffen.

“Nobody you know, just an old art friend of mine.” Baekhyun lied right through his teeth causing Hoseok to smirk.

“Seven years and have you ever been able to lie to me?” Hoseok asked and Baekhyun sighed, getting irritated because he had to meet with you.

“I know who it is now, you’re off to see my student.” Hoseok chuckled at how red Baekhyun began to go in the cheeks, but even though he looked like he was mocking Baek on the outside on the inside his insides were burning in irritation.

“I-I know what this looks like Hoseok but I promise you it’s not what you think. We’re just going to lunch and having a nice day out together.” Baekhyun said calmly, face still heated and red.

“Yeah, like a date.” Hoseok stated and Baekhyun shook his head, not wanting to give in easily. Baekhyun did want this to be a date, but he didn’t know if you saw him like that or not.

“Baekhyun, if you go on that date, I’ll tell everyone about Lisa. I’m sure the newspaper will love to have your photos splashed and in black and white. ‘Critic? More like Killer.’” Hoseok said, using his hands to get out what he was saying.

“Lisa was an accident! You know that, and you’re just as guilty as me that night!” With that Baekhyun stormed off, in the opposite direction. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for you to see him right now, Hoseok smirked as he watched his friend storm off.

He began heading towards the restaurant that you sat at, you were glowing. He’d never seen you looks so relaxed and happy. But he could feel his insides burning again knowing that the only reason you were so happy currently was because you thought Baekhyun was coming.

He walked on over, acting like he didn’t see you at you. You looked up and almost yelped when you saw him standing there at the front counter. You grabbed the menu, hiding yourself behind it.

“Ma’am are you ready to take your order?” The waiter asked, holding a pen and notepad as he looked down at you. Hoseok looked over, already knowing it was you and smirked. ‘

“No not yet thank you.” You squeaked out, after a few minutes you decided to put the menu down. He must have not seen you. As soon as you placed it down you screamed slightly and your body jolted as you saw a smirking Hoseok sitting across from you.

“What can I do you for?” You asked, trying your best to plaster a smile onto your face as Hoseok smirked slightly.

“Well hello to you as well, it’s nice to see you after you ran out of my apartment the other day and we haven’t had any contact since then.” Hoseok said and you began to go red, feeling embarrassed that he knew you were trying to avoid him.

“I-I’ve been busy.” You defended causing a small chuckle to leave his lips.

“I don’t know how you think this works but you’re required to come every day from four to whatever time you leave. Staying for at least four hours which is the minimum time before you can leave.” Hoseok explained causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yes, I know how it works I read the letter when I received it thank you.” You said with an irritated tone evident before pulling the menu back up to hide your face.

“Then what are you doing, sitting in a restaurant, waiting for Baekhyun?” He asked, causing you to slam the menu back down onto the table. A few people glancing in your direction to see the commotion.

“How do you know I’m waiting for him. I could be waiting for my mother to arrive.” You said and he smiled, enjoying your reaction to this.

“He told me all about it, he told me how he was going to come to this lunch, then walk around with you, he would buy you flowers, then when you thought things couldn’t get better you two would go to the fare tonight and he would kiss you on top of the Ferris wheel. Once he’s got you all over him, he’ll take you back to his apartment, sleep with you, then slowly destroy your life.”

As Hoseok explained Baekhyun’s ‘So Called’ plans to woo you, he kept a stern face. His tone didn’t weave any silliness or over exaggerations. He was dead serious.

“No, Baekhyun wouldn’t hurt me like that.” You said, trying your best to fight back the tears. Is that really who Baekhyun is?

“Well if he didn’t want to hurt you, then why did he stand you up?” You opened your mouth to protest and defend Baek but he had you there. Where was Baekhyun? Hoseok lived further away from Baekhyun and he made it here before him.

Your phone began ringing, the number reading a slightly memorable one so you picked up. Eyes on Hoseok as you answered the call.

“Hello?” You asked, hearing the same female’s voice you spoke to earlier.

“Yes Miss L/n, I am Mr. Byun’s assistant calling to inform you he had to cancel last minute due to a meeting coming up. He would like to reschedule and would like you to call back when you have a time and date in mind?” Your eyes tried to leave the man’s who had been sitting across from you.

But they couldn’t, you were so shocked that he knew this would happen. Had Baekhyun done this to women or girls before? Lead them on and make plans and ruin everything at last minute. No he was too good to be like that.

“Actually, I’m free Monday night, would he like to take me out then?” You asked, hearing some shuffling of papers before her voice returned.

“He has a meeting from six until eight so he should be good for eight-thirty to eleven.” She said and you agreed to the time and date. Hanging up and looking away from Hoseok.

“Let me guess, he had some business to attend to? Yeah, that’s his message of ‘go away.’” Hoseok said, you didn’t care anymore, tears burned your eyes as they threatened to fall while you shook your head and kept it low to avoid any fuss.

“Why are you doing this? Do the problems in my life entertain you or something? You’re a sick person.” You stood up and stormed out of the restaurant, paying the bill before leaving.

Hoseok sat there stunned, your words hitting a nerve and something in his head was triggered. His own mother abandoning him after she said she would be back later.

He was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing with his blocks when he saw his mother with bags in her hands. She looked sad.

“Mummy where are you going?” He asked, his mother whimpering as she fought back the tears.

“Just out for a bit baby.” She said softly.

“Will you be back?” He asked, she nodded. Biting her tongue as she tried not to cry.

“When?” He asked, she sighed. Taking in his picture for a moment before answering.

“Soon.” And with that she left him, alone. Forgotten.

Hoseok didn’t realise he had phased out and stood up before leaving as well to return to his own apartment.

He sat in his chair, hand balled into a fist as he rested his chin on it slightly. Thinking as his other hand rested on the arm of the leather brown couch, his fingers tapping slowly against it as he was lost in thought.

“Hoseok, are you coming?” He was brought back to reality a he looked up to see Jennie standing in the door frame facing him. A silk black robe around her but not done up showing him the black lace she wore underneath as she had a subtle smirk on her lips.

He sighed and stood up, slowly walking over towards the room. She made her way towards the bed and he turned around so his body now faced out towards the couch he just sat on. He closed the door slowly, not sure if he was really in the mood tonight.

“Is something wrong baby?” He sat on the edge of the bed, still lost in thought. He felt so confused and lonely. She began kissing down his neck, running her hands along his torso feeling his upper body build.

“No, nothing.” He said, mind still lost somewhere else but slowly coming back to the real world.

“Good.” His hand slid down and grabbed his clothed crotch, squeezing it causing an aroused grunt to leave his lips as he succumbed to the pleasure she was giving him. But while she did everything to him, he couldn’t take his mind off you.

You were stuck there like glue in his head, he wanted to only think of Jennie and no one else. He wanted to not be that guy that thinks of another girl while fucking someone else.

But he was, and it looks like for now that might be a secret he’ll keep to himself.

The first part is done yayayay! I hope you guys like it, I enjoyed writing it even though it was long. But yeah, part two will be out soon!

- Admin 체리≈

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lady-feral · 7 years ago

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Excuse me I was wondering, if you're comfortable talking about it, what your history with exercise, sports, and martial arts is like? As another trans women interested in those things

Well, I don’t think I’d ever have referred to myself as a jock but I’ve always had to be at least somewhat athletic. Growing up I was super skinny. Downright tiny. My freshman year of high-school I was 5'3" and weighed 83 pounds. I was always getting in fights though. My parents also had me doing pretty hard labor growing up. I was splitting firewood with an axe, doing roofing, sheetrock, framing, and construction with my dad from around age 8 maybe? I had to clear wooded lots for my dad too, by hand with an axe, bush axe, shovel, and machete. When I was 9 I got in trouble for digging pitfall traps in the woods so dad made me dig a hole as deep and wide as I was tall. It took me all day and my hands were blistered and bleeding and I was sunburnt and my back was spasming. When I was done to his satisfaction he told me to dig another one next to it the same size and use the dirt from it to fill in the first. I spent the next day on that one, barely able to move, and only got about halfway into it. At the end of that day he let me fill them both in and stop.

After I told on my rapist at age ten my parents let me take two weeks of karate classes, but then canceled them when they discovered they would have to pay for a uniform. I wanted to dance ballet and be a cheerleader, but my parents flatly refused both of those because they were activities for girls and they weren’t having it.

My parents wouldn’t let me play actual sports either because it was against the teachings of their church (even though other church members’ kids played sports) and because they supposedly thought I was too frail for sports. I was always an accomplished runner though, and in PE classes I would outrun kids that were on the track team.

My sophomore year of high school I got suspended from riding the bus, so my parents made me go on foot. It was a 6-mile trek, and walking took way too long so I would run it. I got noticed by the track coach, so I started running track and cross country for my junior and senior years. I also threw discus my senior year. I had to run every track event from the 4x400 relay up just about every meet, and I think I had potential to be a higher performer but I didn’t have great coaching and I didn’t have time to recover between events. I still went to state in the 4x800 and regionals in cross country my senior year. I improved enough between my junior and senior years in cross country that The State newspaper (the biggest newspaper in south carolina) did a story on me and it got me noticed and signed to run cross country at Newberry College on scholarship. Again, we didn’t have much in the way of coaching there so I never reached my full potential, but I was a middle-of-the-pack runner in NCAA division II athletics. I was running about 50-70 miles a week and my 8k PR was a little over 28 minutes. I also ran against Alan Webb at the Great American Cross Country Festival. I believe it was the first college race that he won.

I transferred schools after two seasons and since Newberry refused to release me I couldn’t run for the school I transferred to (Winthrop University) and I was super depressed and dysphoric and dropped out after a semester and joined the army. After being a college cross country runner, running in the army wasn’t a challenge for me and I barely trained it because I would max the run on PT tests without needing to train. I focused instead on lifting weights and gaining mass, and I was doing basically an old-school 1970’s soviet bloc powerlifting routine three days a week off and on the entire 6 years I was in the army.

My whole life I dabbled in trying to teach myself martial arts, and I was pretty obsessed with Bruce Lee. I’ve had a copy of The Tao of Jeet Kune Do since early high school and I did my damnedest to learn everything in there without a teacher. In the army I was doing the LINES system, Modern Army Combatives, and once I got to my SF ODA I was cross-training with a golden gloves boxer, a West Point wrestler, and a legitimate Jeet Kune Do practitioner as well as dabbling in MMA training at Team Roc in Fayetteville NC.

When I got out of the army I stopped doing anything athletic for a while. I was focused on transition, but then I gave up and started lifting again. That’s when I got my biggest and was up to 190 pounds and pretty muscular. Then I got back into transition and moved forward with it. I’ve been trying to get active with running again for the past 5 years or so, and I’ve run 3 marathons, but I’ve run all three of them basically without training. Each time I ran for about two weeks before losing motivation and giving up but was too stubborn to not run the races so I ran them anyway. I had the same result in all three: ran the first half of the marathon in under two hours, slowed significantly after that, and had my quads cramp up and reduce me to walking somewhere in mile 18.

Now I’m pretty focused on MMA training and I’m doing running for my cardio, but I’m still not keeping quite where I want to be. I’m really watching my diet consistently for the first time ever, and I’m trying to be in the gym 5-6 days a week but I think I’m averaging more like 3 or 4 right now.

At any rate, my goal is to have my first fight in the spring of next year, and I would like to run another marathon after actually sticking with a training plan with the goal of finishing under 4 hours. I’m 34 and planning on starting my MMA career (lol) and as unlikely as it is to happen, especially after transition, I’d like to try to beat my college 8k PR.

Basically, I’ve always been naturally athletic, but I’ve never fully applied myself to training and I’ve never really had real coaching. I hope this is the answer you were looking for.

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missgeek83 · 7 years ago

Text

A Guinness in Galway

TITLE: A Guinness in Galway AUTHOR: @missgeek83 RATING: NC-17 SUBJECT: Ed Sheeran AUTHOR’S NOTE: Old friends go out for a drink, and maybe a little more. This is my first foray back into the fanfic world. *nervous laugh* Be kind? <3

The bartender handed me my glass and the last lights of day glittered off the sides. The sun was still warm on my back, but it couldn’t compete with the flush I felt when I looked over and caught his eyes. It took barely a second to get lost in them, and I wasn’t even concerned with how my face must’ve looked until I shifted my glass and a beam of light caused him to squint in pain.

“Aye, watch where you’re pointin’ that,” he said with a small laugh.

Oh, shit. I shifted the glass back. “Shit, sorry.”

He was laughing as the bartender handed him his beer, giving the guy a nod as he sat back down.

“They should be here soon, they said they were close...” I rushed my words, trying to pretend I was still casual. (I wasn’t.)

“They’ll be another hour then, yea? Knowing that lot.”

“Well, I mean you’re not wrong.”

A few beats pass and then my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I pull it out, raising my eyebrow knowingly at him. I read the message, and laugh.

“Christine says they’re trying to find a parking spot. Soooo, give or take about 15 minutes.”

“Enough time for another drink,” he says with a grin.

The group files in about 8 minutes later, filling the bar with the sound of their feet and laughter. As they all settle at the bar next to us, the whole place seems to come alive. The noise level rises just enough that I don’t feel like I have to fill in the spaces between sentences, which is good because to speak to other people down the bar Ed is having to lean over me and I am absolutely distracted. Christine, who sat to my right, is laughing into her drink when my brain comes back into focus. I shoot her a warning glare.

“What?!” She tries to act innocent. “I heard something funny.”

“You’re gonna see something funny in a second,” I mumble, tipping the last of my drink back.

She starts to speak, but Ed sits down at that moment and asks if I want another drink.

“Uh, well if I’m gonna drive later maybe not?”

He smiles at me for a brief second before waving down the bartender.

“Aye, mate, can we get two doubles?”

“Wait - oh, no, yea ok you’re already gone.” I give Ed an exasperated look. He grins and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

Hours later, we all start to disperse, heading to our cars to figure out who’s going home and who’s going for more drinks. Being one of the lightweights, I’m debating on just calling it a night. Christine is headed with her friend-but-not-quite-boyfriend to a bar down the street, and she wants me to go with. I look behind me, trying to see if Ed is leaving or staying. He’s next to a friends car, but soon gives them a salute and turns toward us.

“Coming to Smithe’s?” Christine asks him, looping her arm through mine and giving me a little tug.

“Might as well.”

“Great!” She smiles and lets me go to catch up with Jon, who is already walking out of the parking lot toward the next destination.

I sigh, then laugh. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

“Probably,” Ed says, putting his arm where hers had been and hauling me with him through the parking lot.

We’re both laughing when we catch up to Christine and Jon at the front door of the bar. We wait to be seated, Eds hand coming to rest lightly at the small of my back. Telling myself it’s just the alcohol, I try to ignore the chill that goes straight up to my brain as we’re ushered inside. The booth they sit us in is like its own little island, nestled away in the darkest corner of the bar. I’m suddenly very aware of how tipsy I am as we all slide in behind the round table; first Jon, then Christine, then me, then Ed last. We all chit chat idly and skim the drink menu until a waiter comes to get our orders. Everyone gets a water, and a drink, and we order the biggest appetizer sampler, hoping to soak up some of the alcohol for the drive home. Once the waiter is gone, Christine announces she has to pee, and after giving me a look, I remember that I, uh, have to pee, too.

We barely make it in the bathroom door before she starts.

“So, who drove?” she asks from her stall. "I did," I reply, staring at myself in the mirror to make sure I don't look as drunk as I feel. "Mmmhmmmmm..." She trails off.

"Once the food settles I'll be fine to drive us home, and he has a thing tomorrow anyway." "A thing for you," I hear her mutter as she fusses with the toilet paper. "Stop that, he doesn't think of me that way."

I'm messing with my hair and watch my own face drop in sadness. All the years we've been friends, never once had I thought Ed saw past the gangly blonde girl who ruffled his ginger hair everyday in middle school. We'd both been outcasts, brought together by our love of music and stuff that everybody else hated, but he'd never shown a romantic interest in me. Most days I was ok with that, because for the longest time I hadn't seen him like that myself. It wasn't until the summer he went away for a music thing and came back all...grown up, that I'd started looking at him differently. He grew his hair out, got a couple tattoos, and suddenly he was this irresistable, unattainable person that I had never really seen before. Maybe it was the months he was gone, maybe it was the change in appearance, or maybe it was just something in the air, but in the two years since I hadn't been able to convince myself he was the same kid. I notice Christine has been talking while my brain has been elsewhere. "...maybe if you did that he would open up." "What? Sorry, I wasn't listening." "What else is new?" She exits her stall and rolls her eyes at me. "I try to impart my wisdowm and knowledge on you and you don't even hear me. No wisdom for you!" We laugh as she tosses her paper towel in the trash and make our way back to our table. The guys are having what I can only assume is an awkward attempt at conversation when we get back because Ed has the most relieved face I've ever seen on a person as we sit down. "That was the most painful five minutes of my life," he mutters to me as I reach for my drink. His is already dangerously low. I snicker and take a sip. "Next time, I'll make her go by herself, I promise." He smiles at that and shakes his head. He reaches for a cheese stick and offers it to me, wiggling it in my face. I reach for it, only to have him pop it in his mouth. "Rude!" I squeal, laughing. The rest of the food goes quickly, and after our drinks are done, I notice Christine giving signs that her night needs to be finished elsewhere. Jon nods at her and they rise from the table. "Alrighty guys, well we had fun! Jon's got work in the morning so I think we're gonna head out." Ed and I get up and hug her goodbye, Jon gets a solid handshake and a big-brother-type threat from him, I get a wink from her, and they're gone. Now it's just Ed and I at the table, nursing the last of our drinks in silence. "So, you...want me to take you home after this?" I ask him, pushing my empty glass aside and reaching for my water. "Uh, yea, got that interview tomorrow so..." I nod. My head is still a bit more spin-y that I'd like, but I know he's had way more than me so I pray to the water gods that I'm sober in the next 10 minutes. Suddenly my right cheek burns hot, and I glance over to find him staring at me. When my eyes meet his he doesn't look away, only holds the gaze and the left side of his mouth tips up into a grin. I give him a puzzled half smile back, unable to look away. My heart pounds away beneath my ribs and I feel my head start to fall forward. His does too. In slow-mo, my eyes drop from his as I watch his lips inch closer to mine, and I feel for a second like I'm outside my own body. I think for sure he's going to pull away, because this couldn't possibly be his intention. My vodka-adled brain is making things up and I'm about to make myself look incredibly stupid...until it happens. His lips brush mine and I instantly melt into him. I'm warm all over and my heart is rattling around my chest at an impressive speed. He presses his lips firmly against mine a second time, and I feel his hand come up to rest against my chin. He tilts it upward, catching my mouth again and again and I can't breathe. Breathing feels secondary to making sure my face stays connected to his. Then I'm drowning; in his lips, in his warmth, in the taste of him...I'm a goner. Then it's over. He pulls his face back and I feel a whimper escape my lungs at the broken connection. When I snap back to reality and open my eyes, he's smiling at me with a soft look in his eyes. His hand is still on my face, his thumb rubbing over my jaw line lightly. I stare back in shock, slowly coming out of my haze and suddenly petrified with fear. He notices the change in my face and speaks first. "Hey, you ok?" "Y-yea...I..." Words don't make sense and I can't think of enough of them to describe a single thing I'm feeling. His fingers are still carressing my face. "Is it ok...that I did that?" He seems apprehensive now, like he's scared I didn't want him to kiss me. "No, no! I mean, yes it was ok. More than ok..." I trail off and bring my eyes back up to meet his. The worry fades and his smile returns. I have to be grinning like an idiot by now but I'm trying to savor every second so who cares? I'm still trying to form more than a few words at a time when the hand on my chin slides back behind my ear and brings our heads together again. The synapses in my brain are exploding like fireworks inside my skull as I fall into his chest and my nose catches his cologne on an intake of breath. He smells woodsy, like sandalwood, but also sweet, and a little bit like Guinness. The slow burn that started in my head after the first kiss is spreading like wildfire throughout my entire system. Even though most of the alcohol has left me it's still propelling my actions forward at what I realize is an alarming rate as I snake my hand up his chest and toward the zipper of his hoodie. I stop myself and pull away from him, as much as I hate the idea. We're both slightly out of breath, and his lips are a lovely shade of red, with just a touch of pink from my lipstick. He looks confused. “I...We should probably...” Eventually my vocabulary will return to me, I'm sure, but it's really causing issues currently. “Somewhere else?” “My place?” he asks, raising his eyebrow with a smirk. I nod and fumble behind me for my purse. He's already sliding out of the booth and tossing some cash on the table as I unlatch my car keys and stand up. I take a deep breath, because despite the lovely feeling rushing over me I'm also scared as hell by what may or may not be about to happen. As I'm gathering myself together I see his hand pop out in front of me. I look at him, then take it, and internally squeal when his fingers lace through mine. He leads me from the bar back to my car and waits as I unlock the doors. It's cold out, and I'm thankful for the heater as I crank it and drive off toward Ed's apartment. We don't speak, but the bluetooth plays songs from my phone quietly in the background, helping keep my mind from wandering too far in the wrong direction. When we pull up in front of his building a few minutes later, I get a chill of anticipation...and possibly a little apprehension. He takes my hand again when we meet in front of the car and walks me to the elevator. His complex is by far the nicest in the county, maybe the whole state, and makes my rental look like a total dump. Except that right inside the front door you can immediately tell it's lived in by a man because there are clothes thrown over the couch and cups in single file in front of the sink. He doesn't bother turning on the living room light, just kicks his shoes off and throws down his keys. Dorito (one of his two feline companions) looks up lazily from the moonlight streaming through the window she's laying in and gives a soft meow. I wiggle a finger at her and from behind me I hear Ed laugh. “What?” I say, a smile playing on my lips. “Don't be pointin' fingers at my pussy,” he jokes. I roll my eyes, but realize he probably can't see it. He slides a hand behind me and lightly pushes me toward the stairs. I step out of my shoes and follow him to the second floor. I've been to his place a million times, slept on his floor, his couch, a couple times even his bed – but never like this. Only in my wildest (to the letter) dreams had I ever walked toward that room with this same feeling. I watch my toes indent the carpet in the hallway as he stops ahead of me to open the bedroom door. There's a pause. “I won't bite,” he says, softer than I've ever heard. His soothing voice convinces me to go inside, and I walk in, resting on the side of the bed I know he doesn't sleep on. He flips on the two bedside lamps from the wall and closes the door behind him. He takes his jacket off and tosses it into the chair in the far corner of the room before crawling onto the bed himself. He scoots to the middle, leans against the headboard, and motions for me to join him. I do, and he wraps me up in his arms as I rest my head under his chin. “We don't have to go any farther, if you don't want,” he whispers to me, fingers slowly working through my hair. I don't say anything. Honestly I don't know if I want to go further. We've already thrown “friends” out the window, I don't really want to risk the rest of the night going badly trying to get to whatever is next. As I try to think of what to say, he starts to sing softly, something I've never heard before. “Dancing in the dark...with you between my arms...barefoot on the grass...” He trails off into a hum, obviously not having found the next line yet. His voice is smooth and sweet, and I never tire of listening to him sing. He sounds so much more British when he sings, his lilt making each word bend and sway like reeds in the wind. He sings me to sleep, which was not exactly my intention, but after all the liqour and the excitement of the night, my brain is exhausted. I wake up the next day, the late morning sun filtering in just above my head. I stretch, yawning as I rub my eyes and open them to find...myself alone in a room that is not my own. It takes a few seconds for the night to play back in my head and I laugh a little to myself, half embarrassed and half regretful that the night had ended with me passing out like a child. I hear some clanging from downstairs and am relieved to know he's still here. I'm still wearing everything except my jacket, and I opt to leave it as I shuffle sleepily downstairs. All the blinds in the kitchen are up, and Ed is at the stove, shirtless and in his sweats, making what looks to be eggs. He turns to grab a plate and the sun bounces off his hair, a small flame atop his porcelain skin. He's singing to himself, and I smile, reaching the last step without being seen.

“Careful,” I say in a groggy voice. He turns to look at me. “That's what got me in trouble last night.” He laughs, tossing the eggs and some toast onto the plate and laying it on the bar behind him. “Yea, you were proper tired, ay? After all that and I get snoring as a reward...” He shakes his head in a 'tsk-tsk' way as I sit in front of the plate and scoff. “Maybe your charms need a little more umph to them,” I tease. He rounds the bar and grabs me suddenly, placing his lips against the side of my neck. My eyes flutter closed as he butterfly kisses up toward my ear and then pulls away. “O-or, ya know...not.” “No?” His eyes are mischievous, and also a little arrogant. The bastard. “Water?” I request, clearing my throat to pretend like he hadn't gotten to me. “Say please.” More kisses to the neck, this time crossing my collarbone. “Please?” It comes out as a gasp, airy and hardly a solid word, but it's all I can manage. It's too early for my brain to process any of this and I have no hope of winning this battle. Despite my weakened plea, he continues to kiss across my neck, then up my face, everywhere but my lips. The flame licks at me, reignited from the night before, and my hands slide into his hair. I use it to pull his face up enough for my mouth to find his, and the sensation is enough to blow my scalp clean off. He takes like orange juice, and my hands grasp at his shoulders to pull him closer because the space bewteen us is too much. He steps between my knees, bumping the stool I'm sitting on, and I feel him pressing against my stomach as he tries to right us. The feeling breaks what little control I have over my brain and when our lips separate I can't help the moan that escapes me. I see his eyes roll up, he blinks, then he hefts me up onto the bar. The plate clatters to the floor, but it doesn't stop us. Using my toes, I push the sides of his sweat pants down and after a second they fall to the floor. He's not wearing anything underneath and his erection bounces freely in front of me. He doesn't seem detered by his sudden nudity and tugs at my jeans. I hurry to unbutton them and get them off without being too awkward. The granite bar is cold under me, but every inch of me is on fire. His right hand grips the back of my head and his lips are back on mine. He scoots me to the end of the counter and I wrap my legs around his waist. In time with our kisses, I rotate my hips and rub myself against him. He drops his head to my shoulder for a second and pushes back against me. I see his hand reach to my side, to a black bowl, and bring back a black square. He lifts his head and carefully tears the side off the condom wrapper. There's a small tremor that runs through me, because this is about to happen, this is real. He's rolling the condom on when I snap back, and he looks up at me expectantly. I nod, my chest heaving, and he runs a finger along the top of my underwear. He helps me shove them off and then he spins me around, so he can lay me back on the bar. I use a balled up shirt to put under my head and feel him press the tip against my opening. I take in a big breath, holding it as the pressure subsides and he's completely inside. I can't take the separation anymore and sit up, wrapping my legs around him again and he presses a kiss to my breast. He starts slowly at first, and my eyes meet his. He's entranced, his face full of awe, and I can't look away. I fight back the feeling in my throat, the tears coming to my eyes, knowing that I'd wanted exactly this for the longest time. It spurs me on, and I meet each of his thrusts in earnest. He's breaking a sweat, the sun reflecting off his freckled shoulders. I bite my lip and he closes his eyes.

“I'm close,” he whispers. He can tell I'm not quite there yet, so he reaches between us and uses his thumb to find my clit. I inhale sharply and I see him grin. After a couple seconds I can feel it coming. I moan loudly and I can tell he's done when his face pinches and his thrusts slow. Shortly after I feel the same explosion and everything is white for a second. As my vision clears I feel him holding me, panting heavily against my shoulder. I cradle the back of his head with both hands, mostly trying to steady myself from the last of the tremors coursing through me. It takes a minute or two for our breathing to return to normal, and when it does he slips out of me and discards the condom. I meekly look around for a towel, and snag a few napkins from the far end of the bar. He chuckles. “So...shower?” He extends a hand toward me, his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. I nod and reach out to him, sliding off the bar onto the floor. My legs wobble beneath me and he quickly puts an arm around me to steady me.

“Damn, thanks...” I say, giggling. He stops and picks me up, carrying me back upstairs. He's careful not to hit my head as we re-enter the bedroom and then the bathroom. He sets me down and goes to turn on the shower. I watch him pull a couple fresh towels from the cupboard, turn around and test the water temperature, then nod for me to get in. He pulls the curatin closed behind us and hands me a bottle. It's my favorite body wash, most likely left here long ago, after a night similar to last night. Except without the kissing and, uh, everything else. I use a spare loofah and start to soap my arms. He does the same, and I catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye. He doesn't look away, just raises his eyebrows sexually. I laugh and duck my head, stepping into the stream of water. “That's exactly how we got into this mess, you and those eyes.” “Sooo, are you saying you don't wanna be in my mess?” He pretends to be hurt. “Oh, quite the opposite...couldn't you tell from my extreme enthusiasm downstairs?” “I maybe got an idea.” He wraps his soapy arms around my waist and kisses me, so very slowly. But only for a second, then he rests his forehead against mine. “Are you gonna be my lady?” My heart drops. Straight through the floor, down, down, down. Everything I've longed for is right here. “Is that what you want?” I ask, voice hitching. “Is that what YOU want?” I raise my eyes to meet his. “It's everything I want.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Then that's what you'll have,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. Like a contract we both signed with the kiss he places on my forehead afterward. I don't notice them at first because of the shower over head, but soon I realize I'm crying. Not long after I'm gasping for breath, and he holds me tighter. “Shh,” he whispers, slowly rocking us side to side. He hums a familiar song, the first song we bonded over as kids, and it brings my tears to a stop. “Come on, let's rinse off. Then we'll have a proper breakfast, yea?” I nod, and he kisses me before stepping into the spray to wash off. After breakfast, we snuggle in bed and watch whatever is on the last channel his TV landed on. He twirls my still-damp hair between his index and middle finger absentmindedly. My phone goes off, several texts in a row, on the bedside table behind me and I know immediately who it is. “That'll be Christine, looking for a story,” I say as I reach for it. Whithout looking away from the screen, Ed laughs. “Well, this should be a good one.” “WAKE UP!” “I know you're awake. And you're not at home.” “WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?!” “At Ed's. Spent the night. EVERYTHING happened. Literally. Lunch later?” I see the elipses at the bottom of the screen immediately. “WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?!?!?!?!?! LUNCH?! I CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG.” Laughing, I put the phone down and lay my head back down on Ed's chest.

“She wants to meet up and hear all about it.” “I'm sure she does.” He looks at his watch. “I've gotta be out in a couple hours, if you wanna pop off.” “She can wait. I'm not done here.” I snuggle as close to him as I can, and close my eyes when I feel him kiss the top of my head. Yea...she can wait. After this long, I deserve to stay here as long as I can. ---------- Masterlist here.

#Ed Sheeran #Ed Sheeran fanfic #Smut #One shot #Fan fic

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