#like sorry if this isn’t v customer service of me but i worked in the kitchen before this so im not afraid to yell at some customers !

[solar-halos]

🔥?

okay i know this isn’t the answer u were looking for but i just clocked out of the worst shift of my life so this is just on my mind rn:

if ur rude to service workers i genuinely think something is fucking wrong w you and u need to take time out of ur day to self reflect and figure out how to fix that about yourself. like just cos the Bitch Factory is open that doesn’t mean u have to fucking clock in i don’t care how hungry u are or if ur goldfish died or if u got hit by a fucking bus. you’re an adult—learn how to control your fucking temper

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private session part2 is needed!! We all know Barry can be a dick head and he actually considers adding the having sex with a stripper option to customers when y/n finds out about this she obviously mad and saying no but when rafe finds outs about this he’s obviously mad and goes to Barry pissed saying wtf is this he obviously dose not want y/n to have sex with anyone else but him

Private Session - part two

Part One

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases. When he finds out Barry has been selling you to customers, he gets jealous, insisting that you must not sleep with anyone else.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe and Barry do cocaine), bondage (reader is tied up), p in v, unprotected sex, language, SLIGHT degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. This fic is NOT proofread, it's almost FIVE AM and I have school tomorrow, well, today I guess...UGH. I just got this request and had to write this!! Also thank you all for the support on part one?!?!?! That's INSANE, I love you guys! I wanted to get this out asap for y'all. Sorry if it's actually shit, I'm so tired and also high. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

Some time has passed since your ‘private session’ with Rafe. The first time you’d come back to work after your session with Rafe, Barry had talked to you at the beginning of your shift. Apparently, after seeing how much Rafe paid you for just one hour alone with him, Barry was inspired. He had told you that the club will now be providing a new “service” to well-paying customers. Customers now have the option to have sex with the dancers for the right price. Barry knew better than to sell his girls out for cheap, so the cost is rather high. And there’s typically only two types of men that have both the means and the money for it: the rich, old sugar daddies who probably can’t even get it up on their own and the rich, horny assholes of the island, take Rafe for example. 

When Barry had told you this, you were pissed. This was not in your job description; you’re a stripper not a hooker. You wanted to yell at him and quit. The issue is that when you got this job, you had signed a contract with Barry stating that you’d have to work there for at least a year or else you’d have to pay a fee. Knowing Barry, it’s a ridiculously large fee, ensuring that no one quit before their year was up. And it’s likely that the contract he made you sign isn’t even legal. But you're not going to try and find out, knowing that even if it’s not, that doesn’t matter to Barry. He’ll make you pay. And you don’t have that kind of money, that’s why you’re in this position in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, you’ve noticed that Rafe hasn’t been coming in as much. Not while you’re working at least. The few times he has come in, he hasn’t been alone, always coming in with a few other kooks and barely paying any attention to you. Which is definitely not normal for Rafe. You just assume that since he’s had you now, he’s lost his interest. You expected that you’d be relieved when he finally stopped watching you like prey, but now you’re not exactly sure what you feel. Does he not find you attractive anymore? Did he just lose interest after finally getting what it is that he had craved for so long? God, was it just you; did he see who you really are and run in the opposite direction? You knew that whole experience with him was too good to be true.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the door to the back room open. Quickly, you grab one of the dresses hanging in your locker and slip it over you; it’s what Barry told you to wear over your lingerie when you do at-home sessions with clients. You turn, watching as your boss and none other than Rafe Cameron stumble in through the door. Rafe goes quiet, his expression going dead as he lays eyes on you. 

“Lookin’ good”, Barry whistles. “Where you headed, princess?” He asks as he turns away from you, sitting on a chair. Barry leans back in his seat, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggie full of white powder. You’ve always ignored his side business, always pretending you don’t see any of it. Which is what you do right now. Trying your hardest to ignore the fact he’s preparing a line on the small, glass coffee table, you finish up what you’re doing and close your locker a bit harshly.

“I have a client waiting.” You snap. You walk closer to where Barry is sitting and turn your back to him. “Tie me?” You ask, holding your hair up and waiting for him to tie the complex strings of your backless dress. Though he’s currently busy doing a line of cocaine. Without hesitation, Rafe steps closer, his fingers moving to tie your dress. You don’t have to see him to know he’s the one tying your dress. Your skin just immediately remembers his touch, causing chills to run down your spine at the flashbacks of that night. Rafe notices your slight shiver and smirks as he tries to figure out how the straps of your dress go. His hands linger on the skin of your lower back for longer than they need to and your breath hitches each time his skin comes into contact with your own.

When he’s done, he sits on the couch across from Barry, facing you. You turn back to them, not bothering to thank him. To be honest, you’re a bit pissed at him for starting this whole sex with customers thing. You know he didn’t intend to, but he’s the one who gave Barry the idea. 

Barry speaks up again as he wipes the excess powder from his nose. “When will you be back, I need you out on the floor.” 

I can’t do fucking everything, you think. Although your words come out much more politely. “It’s an at-home appointment so probably an hour.” You’ve had this client before, he typically finishes pretty quick. 

You hear Rafe’s loud breathing as he snorts a line which grabs your attention, making you briefly turn your head to look at him. You watch as he leans back, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply as his high takes over. Rafe slouches in his seat, spreading his legs wide, making you quickly look away. Of course he notices how you’re reacting to him, he always notices everything about you. He crosses his arm and lets out a small sigh. 

Rafe’s tone is sharp as he cuts in. “At-home?” He questions, still trying to act as though he doesn’t care about the conversation you and Barry were having. 

Barry’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight before turning to look at Rafe. “We now offer a new service: you can fuck any of ‘em bitches now.” You make a face at Barry’s words, not liking how he described you and the other girls. Usually he’d never say that in the presence of one of his “bitches”, but Rafe and Barry always brought out the worst in each other; their behavior much worse when they’re together. 

“Wait, what?!” He asks, sitting up a bit before calming himself down. He leans back against the couch, trying to seem all nonchalant. “So, they’re hookers?” He questions more calmly as he looks over to you. You recall having to tell him you weren’t a hooker the last time you saw him. You scowl, hating that he’s trying to prove you wrong and rub it in. 

“Hookers, bitches, call ‘em whatever you want. I should thank you for giving me the idea. I mean, do you have any idea how much money this is making me.” Barry boasts. “And miss pretty princess over here is our top money maker.” Barry gestures to you as you stand there, waiting for your chance to leave. “She brings in the most customers. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” You nod. Everytime Barry gets high, he doesn’t fucking shut up. Rafe just nods his head dryly, leaning down to snort another line of the white substance from the table. 

You take this as your queue to leave and you walk out through the door and back into the main part of the club. You walk through the crowd and search for your client. Leaving Rafe with a few moments to think in silence before Barry starts yapping about all the guys you’ve been fucking. Rafe is fucking furious with this new addition to the club. He had never intended for Barry to take inspiration from his actions, he just needed you. And now anyone else who wants you, can have you. How is it that you could say that you don’t go home with guys often, and turn around and go fuck a bunch of guys for a living right after? Was he just another client to you? Rafe can’t take it anymore and decides to take action. He shoots up from his seat on the couch and storms after you. 

As you’re walking, you feel a hand grip your arm and spin you around. You’re almost chest to chest with Rafe as he speaks down to you. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I have a client.” You explain, again. 

“The fuck you mean ‘a client’?” 

“You’re not the only one who’s willing to pay just to fuck me, Rafe.” You say coldly. 

He chuckles, responding sarcastically as he stares down at you with his wide, dilated eyes. “Thought you never went home with random guys?”

“I didn’t. Until you gave Barry the idea of selling me out to strangers for a quick buck.”

Rafe sighs, his grip on your arm loosening. “That’s not what I wanted. I mean c’mon, you think I want other guys fucking you?”

The implication in his words shock you, but you try not to read too much into it. Before you get the chance to respond he lets go of your arm, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. Without question, he pulls his wallet out from his pocket, flipping it open and looking up at you. “How much is he gonna pay?” You stare at him blankly, confused in what he’s doing. He huffs out a long breath shutting his eyes for a second before bringing one hand up to snap in your face, grabbing your attention. “The guy, your…” his hand waves around in the air, gesturing outwards as he momentarily stutters. “...Client, or whatever. How much was he going to pay you?” He speaks more slowly this time, as if you’re stupid or something. 

“Depends.” You answer. The client you’re supposed to be meeting right now didn’t have an exact time planned, but you know how much he typically has the stamina for. 

He purses his lips, shifting on his feet. “Ballpark.” He demands. His gaze darted between your eyes, constantly shifting to look at both. 

Still confused, you hesitantly respond to his question, stuttering as you speak. “$800.” Immediately, he starts to count the money in his wallet, taking out the eight-hundred and then some. Rafe hands the cash out to you, but you don’t take it right away so he tucks it into the low cut neckline of your dress.

“There, now I take priority.” He takes hold of your arm again and drags you through the club and out into the parking lot. He walks you up to his truck, which you can now recognize. Rafe pulls the passenger door open for you and walks around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. You know to get in, shutting the door behind you and buckling your seatbelt before looking over at him. Your stomach tightens as his eyes undress you. Rafe finally turns his head away, reaching over his shoulder to grab his seatbelt. Suddenly, it’s like the image registered in his brain and he whipped his head back to you, glaring at your thighs.

You noticed him staring at you, looking down into your lap. The super short dress you were wearing has ridden up, revealing the few hickeys that are spread over your inner thighs. His eyes find the others on your neck as well and he knows he wasn’t the one to leave them. You try to keep your customers from leaving hickeys and other marks in your body, but it’s like the more you tell them not to, the more they want to. It makes Rafe almost sick to his stomach when he thinks about kissing you with those marks; marks left on your skin from other men. He can’t stand it. Suddenly his mind is filled with images of you fucking other guys, he tries to shake out the thoughts but he can’t; they’re eating away at him. The two lines of cocaine from earlier not helping the situation, it only serves to intensify his anger. 

As he drives he looks over at you. He starts to rant, his voice booming inside the small tuck cabin. “Bet they can’t make you cum four fuckin’ times in an hour, can they?”  You only slightly jump when he startles you with the increasing volume of his voice. “They can’t fuckin’ touch you like I can, huh?” He glances at the road shortly, then he turns his head back to you. “Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, yeah?” He waits for a response.

You catch the hint. “Mhm…yeah.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you get to Tanneyhill, Rafe comes to an abrupt stop in his driveway. He wastes no time before getting out of the truck and rounding the front of it to get to your side. Rafe pulls the passenger seat door open, grabbing ahold of your arm again. He tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you two. 

As soon as you hear the door shut, his lips are finding yours and attacking them. In the moment, he decides that his bedroom upstairs is too far and he takes you into the kitchen. He continues to kiss you, walking you backwards until your lower hips bump into the counter; in which he grabs your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter. One of his hands finds its way underneath your dress and between your legs. In quick movements, he tugs your lacy thong down and off of your body. Once they hit the floor, he’s pulling your legs apart; forcing them to spread wide so that you’re exposed and accessible to him. Your pussy grows wet in anticipation of what he’s going to do to you; which is something that none of the other men have been able to make you feel.

Rafe brushes a light hand over your cunt, groaning into your mouth as he discovers how wet you are for him. Not some random guy at the club, but him. He continues to kiss you, swallowing the small moans that try and escape your lips. His hands move to his belt, working on getting it off. Once it’s off, he pulls his jeans down and steps out of them; only breaking the kiss once. The next thing to go in his boxers; he slides them down and lets them pool at his ankles.

With absolutely no warning or further preparation, Rafe slams into you. You choke out a moan, tilting your head back. Rafe starts to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear just so that your cunt can squeeze around him even tighter as he jackhammers into you. “Fuuck…so tight.” He groans. “Did anyone else fuck you like this, hm? Did anyone else’s cock stretch you out like this?” He growls into your ear. His hand snakes around to the back of your head, gathering all your hair and tugging your head back so that you were looking at him. “That was a fucking question. Fucking answer.” He demands.

“I…”, you cry out as his cock repeatedly hits the extra sensitive spot deep inside you. A spot that nobody else can reach like how he does. “N-no…just you.” 

“Just me, what?” He continues, enjoying your struggle to form words as he fucks you at this pace.

“Just you can fuck me like this.” You admit. You’re not even saying it because he wants you to, but because you can honestly say that nobody’s ever fucked you like how he’s fucked you. 

“Good girl.” He praises. He runs a hand through your hair and slows his speed to a very slow, careful pace, admiring your features as your face contorts with pleasure. After about a minute, his hand finds your clit, his fingers rubbing harsh circles as his thrusts speed up to an unbearable pace again. He places a hand on your chest, pushing you down so that you’re laying with your back flat on the counter. 

The cold counter adds to the intense feeling. He pauses for a moment to pull your shiny, little dress up past your hips to keep it out of the way. When he continues, he’s drilling into you faster than before, giving you the last bit of his anger through his thrusts. Your back begins to arch off the counter, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. And just as you’re about to see stars, Rafe pulls out of you and steps back, pulling his boxers back up from his ankles.

An involuntary whine escapes your lips when his touch leaves you and you sit up on your elbows, trying to figure out why he stopped. Except he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts you up, carrying you upstairs and into his bedroom. 

When you get into his room, he sets you down just before the bed. “Shit, I almost forgot.” He mumbles. You furrow your brows and follow his gaze to his bed. On his bed sits a small gift box. You look back at him to find him staring at you. “Open it.” The demands, his tone almost displaying a small trace of excitement. 

You look back at the box, taking a few steps closer to the bed. You reach out to flip over the small tag on the box, it reads: ‘To: my favorite hooker’. Your breath hitches. He’s so frustrating with his persistence of using that word, ‘hooker’, when he knows you aren’t one. Well, you didn’t used to be one. But you have to admit, this seems almost…sweet, in a way. Sweet for Rafe anyhow. You fight back your smile as you reach both hands out, carefully lifting the lid off of the box, setting it on the bed. Inside the box lay some very beautiful, intricate lingerie; it’s clearly very expensive, judging on the fact that you can’t even pronounce the brand name. 

Rafe explains, “For what I ripped last time. I told you I’d replace it.”

“You did.” You say, getting lost in his eyes for perhaps a moment too long.

“Take it out.” He instructs and you obey, taking the delicate lingerie out of the gift box. Underneath the set, you find another gift. A vibrating wand as well as some thick ribbon. The vibrator you understand, the ribbon…not so much. You hold some of it up, turning to face him as if asking ‘what’s this for?’. Rafe understands what you’re asking and he responds vaguely. “You’ll see.” Clearly he enjoys keeping you on your toes, and you hate it. 

After changing into your new lingerie, you exit his bathroom and walk towards his bed. Quickly he has you laying on your back. He takes some ribbon from the box and straddles your waist leaning over you as he ties each of your wrists to a separate bed post. He then did the same with your feet. Now you’re all tied up for him, spread out on the bed and vulnerable. 

He leans down, hovering over you. He starts to kiss all over your body, his lips finding any open spot of skin on you. He pauses his kisses for a moment, leaning back up enough to look at you. He tells you, “Don’t wear this at the club.” Rafe leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your chest. “This is for me, yeah?” He mumbles, giving you yet another kiss. “My eyes only.” you nod in response, you agree. This is way too expensive to be wearing to the club.

“Yes, yes, only you.” You desperately plead. 

Rafe chuckles and starts to kiss down your body, He makes a momentary stop at your chest, mouthing over one of your nipples through the thin fabric, his fingers rolling your other nipple between his fingers. His actions elicit a loud moan to escape your lips as your body tenses up, struggling against the restraints. You now understand the ribbon. Last time, he had used rope to tie you up and it would painfully dig into your skin. But the ribbon was soft, not causing pain to be inflicted upon you as your body reacts to his actions. His mouth leaves your breast, moving to the other side, ensuring that it wasn’t left out. His hand also switches to pinch at your other nipple.

His mouth starts to travel down your body again as his hand reaches behind him on the bed to grab something. He mouths over your clothed cunt, making you whine and shiver underneath him; still sensitive from when he had teased you earlier on the kitchen counter. 

You hear a vibrating sound, but before your brain could register what it is, he’s using the new vibrator he bought for you, on you. He presses it firmly against your clit through the fabric of your panties. Your arms tug at the restraints in response, your legs trying, and failing to close. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed and weak. Lying here helpless as he assaults your small bundle of nerves. 

Rafe pulls your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. He pushes the vibrator directly on your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body at the sensation. “F-fuck!” You cry, your abdominal muscles contracting as your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl. Rafe leans in, using his tongue to lap up the juices that drip from your slick entrance as he keeps the vibrator steady on your most sensitive part. “Rafe!” You scream his name out as you cum, finally seeing the stars you were denied earlier, the build-up making it that much more intense. 

He pulls the vibrator away, only using his tongue to work you down from your high. When your body starts to relax more, he stops and moves back up your body. He sets the vibrator aside and kisses at your neck, leaving new marks of his own; darker and larger than the others. 

You’re still in shock at Rafe’s decision to use a toy on you. You definitely weren’t mad about it, that’s for sure. It’s just that typical guys won’t want to use a vibrator on you because they want to prove they’re better all by themselves. Rafe’s definitely good at sex, that’s just a given fact. But the confidence he has to use a vibrator on you, mixed with his skill…he’s fucking incomparable. 

Rafe unties your wrists, letting your arms fall and relax. Next he moves to untie the ribbon that ties your feet to the bed. Once you’re completely free, he gives you a moment, knowing how tiring that was for your body. He knows you need to recover if he wants to get more orgasms from you tonight. 

Though you appreciate his generosity, you want to help him out too. So you take him by surprise by placing your hand over his hard cock through his boxers. Except he still manages to be the one surprising you when he speaks. “Fuck…that feels…s’so good baby.” He groans, but moves your hand off his dick. “But let me take care of you, yeah? I know Barry’s got you workin’ a lot, hm? Heard you’ve got the most customers, is that right?” He asks, his hands starting to squeeze and massage at you calves 

“Mhm…” you agree, closing your eyes in relaxation. 

Rafe’s hands move to massage your feet, knowing the tall heels you’re always wearing have to be causing you some discomfort. And he knows he assumed correctly when you let out a deep sigh at his touch. “Nobody ever takes care of you, hm? Always just taking what they want and giving you nothing?” He leans in closer to your ear and whispers, “I like taking care of you.” Rafe starts to nip softly at your ear, making you moan softly. 

After a while, his hands leave your feet, moving back up your body. He gently pulls off the lingerie, setting it on the bed beside you two. He takes a moment to revel in the sight of you, taking in what he is lucky enough to have in front of him. One of his hands finds its way to your slimy folds, gently running over your entrance. He gathers some of your slick and brings it up to your clit as he begins to rub it in steady, slow circles.

Finally, he pulls his boxers off. He uses his other hand to hold himself at the base, gently stroking himself a few times as he looks down at you underneath him. Without much more preparation, he pushes himself inside of you. This time, he moves slowly. His mind isn;t clouded from the effects of cocaine and anger anymore, instead he just wants to help you feel good. He wants to take him time, even though you’re likely not going to last long after your previous orgasm. 

“Shit, so fuckin’ wet f’me. You’re always so wet for me, hm? Such a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groans, his mouth right next to your ear so you can clearly hear all his praises. “M’gonna have to talk to Barry for you. Can’t have you fuckin’ those other guys anymore. This pussy’s for me; it’s mine.” His speed gets faster, his pace more erratic as you get closer, your cunt squeezing around him tighter; ultimately bringing him closer to finishing as well. “Hm? You hear me?”

“Mhm…” you nod eagerly, getting so close to cumming that you can barely form a complete thought. “Y-yes Rafe. Yours, fuck! Yours.”

He gathers all your hair, tugging on it so that your neck cocks back, giving him full access to mark it up. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck; sucking and biting at your skin. “Only a slut for me, right? Nobody else, not anymore.”

“Yes…sure, fuck, okay yeah!” You scream. The recognizable feeling of your stomach tightening just for the band to snap, making your back arch off the bed, pushing your body against his as you reach another orgasm. “Ohh…nngghh…f-fucking shit!” You curse, your hand clawing at his shirt, trying to take it off. Rafe understands what you need and does it for you.

It’s not long before he gets to his peak with the way you keep squeezing him; so wet that he just slips right in and out. But before he cums, he asks you a final question. “Can I?”,is all he says but it’s enough for you to know what it is that he’s asking. He’s already done it before, so you don’t see the problem, especially not right now. You don’t even have it in you to say no even if it was what you wanted,

“Mhm…please. Please cum inside me, Rafe. I-I need it.” You admit.

Without wasting another second, Rafe’s movements slow down as he releases his load in you; painting your walls white with his cum. You could feel his warm seed spilling out of you, mixing with your sticky juices. When he pulls out, you feel empty. Your lonely cunt left clenching around nothing. 

Rafe lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You never had taken Rafe for much of a cuddler, but he’s full of surprises tonight. You return the action, wrapping your arms around him and draping a leg over him. 

After you’ve both had time to recover, you still just lie there, enjoying each other's silent company. But you finally decide to break the silence between you two. “Y’know, I have to admit that it is kinda nice to be with someone who can get it up without taking pills.” You joke truthfully, referring to all the old sugar daddies that pay for your services.  

Rafe chuckles at your words. He wants to say ‘I told you so’, to prove that he knew nobody else made you feel the same as he did, but fights the urge. Instead he just laughs. “Oh, I bet.” 

“Did…did you mean what you said about talking to Barry?” You ask on a more serious note.

Rafe looks at you, admiring your soft, tired, fucked-out expression as he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Oh yeah, yeah. I can talk to him if you want. He usually listens to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” You ask.

“Then I’ll make him.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I started this, I’m gonna fix it, okay? So don’t worry. You ain’t gotta fuck nobody you don’t wanna no more, yeah? How’s that sound?”

“Thank you.” You mumble to him, your eyes starting to get heavy and droop shut. 

“I hope that means you’ll still fuck me.” He teases, petting your soft hair as he watches you. 

You just nod, too exhausted to engage in his jokes. Rafe just smiles softly, appreciating the fact that he has you all sleepy in his bed; his arms. Of all the time he spent watching you and admiring you at the club, he never was able to imagine this moment.

He presses one final kiss to your head before closing his own eyes, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll take you back tomorrow, that alright?”

“Mhm…” You mumble under your breath, already half asleep. 

“Goodnight.” He whispers, pulling the covers over the two of you. 

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

Again, sorry if this is bad. I'm so tired and too lazy/impatient to proofread/edit. I hope this is good enough to fulfill your request!

[artificialqueens]

🎁 Lonely This Christmas (Bitney) for Cheetah - Lita

SECRET QUEEN 2022 by @artificiallita, for @opalescent-cheetah

A/N: When I got the list of tropes etc to possibly explore from Cheetah, one thing that really stuck out to me was the idea of exploring aromanticism or atypical relationship dynamics - and if anyone knows my writing, you know that I've never exactly written 'normal' Bitney (I can only apologise to all victims of the San Junipero AU lmao) so this was super super fun. Loosely inspired by V pointing out that I write Bianca in the Femme Fatale AU as somewhere on the aromantic spectrum, although she herself might not have found the words for it yet, I wanted to explore that a little more while also writing some silly festive fluff (a month late lmao.) 

Cheetah, I hope you enjoy this <3<3 Hope your holiday season was magical, and thank you for inspiring this fic since I had a ton of fun with it. Much love!!

(Full A/N restored! -V)

*****

“We’re sorry, the person you are trying to reach is unable to take your call. Please leave a voicemail after the-”

“Fuck…” Courtney ends the fourth attempted call, and drops her phone into her lap. Her head sinks into her hands. It’s the middle of the fucking night in Australia - of course her mum isn’t answering her phone, she’s probably asleep. So is Kim. So is…well, it’s more likely that Vanity is shitfaced and in the middle of a club with no service, but either way she’s unreachable. Stupid fucking New York and its stupid fucking shitty winters. 

It had been snowing heavily when she woke up that morning, and hadn’t stopped all day. She’d gotten the news via a Twitter notification in the cab to the airport - all flights bound for NYC were being diverted, and all scheduled to leave it had been grounded. She’d hoped for a miracle, but the odds of one occurring had dwindled into the single digits as she’d arrived in the airport to be told her flight was delayed by five hours. It had been outright cancelled twenty minutes ago. 

 She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her suitcase, staring down a never ending line of closing check-in desks - the departure boards above them, bright red CANCELLED labels next to every listed flight, feel like they’re mocking her. Adore was right, she’d left it too late. Court makes a mental note to listen to her roommate more often. Adore had fucked off home for the holidays a week ago, of course - blissfully unaware of the current mayhem in JFK Airport and probably stoned halfway to a coma with her mom. Lucky cunt. 

What kind of idiot waits until December 23rd to fly halfway across the world back home for Christmas? Well, her and by the looks of things a couple of hundred other idiots, pacing and yelling into cell phones and arguing with the poor arseholes at the customer service desk, as if they could do anything about the bloody weather. Courtney is trying to summon the willpower to brave the cold and shuffle out to the waiting line of taxis, where it looks like half the population of the city are lined up with pointlessly packed bags and weary faces and screaming kids. It’s already Christmas Eve in Sydney. 

Courtney feels her eyes welling up. Between work, and fighting to get the time off work to get home at all, and packing and shopping and everything else, the stress has been melting her head for weeks. And now this. Horrible, crushing defeat - falling at the last hurdle with no solution in sight. Maybe she could swim to Australia? It’s starting to get dark; the snow still falling down in sheets and wind blowing with such force it feels like it’s shaking the wall she’s leaning against. Fuck this for a laugh.  

“Hey stranger.”

A familiar abrasive voice. Followed up by a slightly-too-hard nudge with the toe of a sneaker. Courtney looks up, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. 

Bianca’s dark hair is spilling out of her ponytail, LV holdall slung over one shoulder as she stands in front of her in sweatpants and a parka. She looks a hell of a lot more zen than most other people waiting around; face unflinching and almost entirely unbothered.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, this shit isn’t going anywhere any time soon,” Bianca continues, gesturing to the window with her head. Courtney cracks half a smile. 

“I don’t know either,” Courtney shrugs. “If I leave, I have to accept that I’m fucked and I don’t want to do that yet.

“‘Fucked’ is a strong word,” Bianca says with a snort of a laugh. She offers Courtney a hand, pulling her up off of the floor. 

Bianca was the intimidating, take-no-shit head bartender of the club that Court worked as a shot girl in; it seemed like she’d made it her life’s mission to make everyone who came into contact with her think she was a total cunt. However, there was an element of trying too hard that Courtney had always plainly seen through - Bianca being a closet softie wasn’t anything close to a shock. She’d been the one that took the GM to task when he’d tried to refuse to give Court time off to go home over Christmas, and probably the only reason that Court wasn’t there right now, in a miniskirt and fishnets trying to upsell high-end tequila to groups of drunk Wall Street cunts on their office night out. 

She’d also been the subject of a long-unrequited crush that Courtney had been harbouring since she started working there two years ago. Not because she didn’t care, or because she didn’t like her. Court had woken up in her bed a few too many times for that to be the case. But Bea doesn’t shit where she eats. Like she’d said the last time she’d rebuffed Courtney’s suggestion to go for brunch the last time they’d gotten too drunk and woken up naked and spooning. 

It was confusing, and at times a little frustrating - but that didn’t change the little spark of happiness that Courtney had felt cracking through the misery when Bianca appeared, or the way that watching her eyes light up when she laughs makes Court melt. She’d let the silly crush be a silly crush if it meant she got to keep Bianca around. 

“So, what’s your plan exactly? Sit here and feel sorry for yourself until the snow melts?” 

“Something like that.” 

“Well, I’m going home like a normal person - I drove here, do you want a ride? 

Courtney nods a little hesitantly. 

“Actually,” Bianca says, noticing the uncertainty on Courtney’s face. “I could probably use the company, do you wanna come hang out at my place? Saves you sitting around feeling like shit by yourself.”

“Yeah,” Courtney says, a smile creeping onto her lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

******

“Hold on a fucking second,” Courtney lifts her head up from Bea’s lap. 

She’d gotten to Bianca’s apartment and originally sat at a respectful distance on the other side of the couch - they’d chatted idle shit for a while, bitching about work and people they knew and how much Christmas sucks as a holiday. All the stress and chaos and planning, and spending money you don’t really have on people you don’t really like. And then Courtney had cried a little about not making it home - actually, she’d had what most people would describe as a mental breakdown. She hadn’t seen her family since last bloody Christmas, missing god knows how many birthdays and milestones. She and Vanity had been planning their New Year night out for a month. She was homesick - a state she practically lived in, but that was so much worse now that she’d been touching distance from getting there and then couldn’t. Bianca had gotten a little closer, pulling into a hug and letting Court leave a wet patch of tears on her sweatshirt. 

Then they’d ordered takeout and opened a bottle of wine - finished that and then started on a second. Bianca’s studio apartment is warm and homey, and Bianca’s presence is warmer. And now they’re here. Bianca has a hand tangled in Courtney’s blonde hair, there’s Hallmark garbage playing on the TV, and Court wishes every night could be like this. Fuck, Courtney thinks she’s in love. 

Bianca has her other arm around Courtney’s shoulders, their legs tangled under a blanket as glow from the streetlights creep through the curtains. She’s never seen Bianca this soft; this tender. Her eyes are a little glassy, but she looks so content, and so fucking beautiful in the soft light. 

“What?” Bianca tilts her head. 

“You were at the fucking airport too - and you’ve not complained once about not getting home. I get that I'm being a drama queen about this, but that’s weird. 

“Because I don’t really care,” Bianca shrugs. “I’m missing the annual family argument and my grandma asking me a hundred weird judgy questions about why I don’t have a boyfriend yet - big fucking deal. I don’t have to deal with them, and the situation is out of my control so I don’t get in shit for not coming, it’s a win-win.”  

Courtney is stunned into silence for a second. 

“What? Some people have a shitty relationship with their family, this is news to you?” Bianca laughs, clearly noticing the look on Courtney’s face. 

“No - I just…I don’t know. I just never thought about it with you - you’ve got your shit together, you’re happy. Well, ish. Didn’t think you had all of this like…internal angst,” Courtney says, and then hiccups. She reaches for her glass. 

“It’s not angst - this isn’t ‘mommy and daddy don’t love me because I’m a queer’ shit - it’s just…I don’t know. It’s nothing. We’re not close - we never have been. And I’m happier on my own.” Bianca says, her shoulders hunching a little bit.  And then: “That new start fucking sucks, right? Magnolia or whatever her name is.”

“Hey, don’t change the subject! We were having a moment - you were being vulnerable! This is progress!” 

“Cunt,” Bianca protests with a chuckle. “What more do you fucking want from me? We’re not friends until I’ve told you the ins and outs of all of my inner turmoil? Because there’s not much there.” 

“I’m just saying, you’re a bit…I dunno, cold? You try to pretend that you’re all big and scary, but you’re not - and you keep pretending anyway."

“Your point?”  

“My point is I really fucking like you, and it’s like you-”

“Bitch, you think you’ve been subtle about that?” Bianca laughs. “I know. I know you really like me. And I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I don’t…I don’t know, like you or value you as a friend and want you in my life. It’s not that - it’s just fucking complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Courtney sits up, her brow furrowing. “Because at this point, it feels more like being led on. You’re so nice to me, you make me so happy - and then you make me feel like a crazy person for thinking there’s something there and wanting more.”

Shit, Courtney feels more strongly about this than she’d realised. Bianca flinches. 

“Because I don’t like it when there’s more,” Bianca says with an exhausted sigh. “I’m terrible at relationships - I always have been." 

“But I don’t mind that, I’d-” “Trust me Court, you really, really would. I don’t talk to anyone that I’ve ever dated any more. It sucks, it makes me feel like shit - it probably makes them feel worse. I don't do it on purpose, but I don't think I feel the way that people are meant to feel about this kind of stuff. It's just hard and confusing and stressful - and then it ends, and I’m by myself again, so I might as well be by myself because I’m choosing to be. Not because I’m a shitty girlfriend.” 

She puts her head in her hands. Courtney feels a quiet pang of guilt - in the first instance because this is the closest thing to upset she’s ever seen Bianca, and equally because she’s thrown off the balance of what was a fucking amazing time. Bianca had made her forget about Christmas, or missing her fucking family - about any of the sadness she’d been carrying when she came in. She’d made everything feel better, and then Courtney screwed it up as a thank-you. 

She remembered a few of the exes. Raja and Katya and Dela - all completely unalike in every imaginable way. Courtney remembered being horribly jealous of them when they came into the bar, watching how happy they seemed to make Bianca from a distance and hating it. And she always remembered it going downhill; Bianca casually complaining about how they’d been fighting over nothing, or how whatever-her-name-was hadn’t spoken to her in days.  And Bianca had always mentioned that it ended completely off the cuff - completely unbothered. Or so she seemed. 

“Bea, I’m sorry…” 

Courtney frowns. “Bianca, I’m…” she pauses to think. A lot of what Bianca just said sounds a little familiar. “Do you think it’s possible that you might be aromantic?"

“The fuck does that mean?” Bianca furrows her brows.

“It’s like, kind of similar to asexuality-” “I know I’m not that,” Bianca says, accompanied by a little snort of a laugh. “I think you do too.”

“Yeah, I do,” Courtney can’t help but let a little exhale of a laugh escape. “But it’s a lack of romantic attraction. So instead of not being into sex, the idea of being with someone or needing a relationship to feel fulfilled doesn’t do anything for you.”

“So you’re telling me I’m some kind of fucking weirdo who doesn’t know how to love people?” Bianca says, accompanied by a confused, slightly embarrassed chuckle. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying - because clearly you do. You care about people - you just don’t need to date them to prove that.” 

“Huh,” Bianca nods.

“Look, that’s something you need to figure out for yourself - but I don’t mind either way. I just thought this whole time that you didn’t want to go out with me because you didn’t like me.”

“Not even close,” Bianca looks at the floor, smiling. “This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you, or I don’t want you in my life. Actually, it means I want you in my life so badly that I don’t want to risk screwing that up by dating you - since I’ve never had a relationship that I haven’t screwed up.”

Courtney bites her lip. Secretly, she thinks she’s been imagining a future in which Bianca gets over herself and then they spend the rest of their lives together. And secretly, she’s always known that’s infantile and stupid and impossible. This feels final; but the sting of the rejection isn’t there like she thought it would be. Maybe because it’s not really a rejection. 

“Anyway, it’s not like I’ve not tried a hundred fucking times to help you get over it,”Bianca continues.

“How exactly?” Courtney laughs, perplexed.

“Valentina, Aja, Joslyn, Shea - any girl at work mentions anything about being into girls, and the first thing I do is throw them at you. I’ve been trying so fucking hard to set you up with literally anyone else for the last year. You didn’t just think you’re that irresistible to every single sapphic-leaning woman you’ve ever met?”

“Well, I don’t want to say yes, but…” 

“Fuck off,” Bianca laughs, Courtney tossing her hair. Then: “I’m sorry, Court.”

“You don’t need to be sorry either,” Courtney says, picking herself up a little and smiling. “I think I saw this coming. Or, some variation on this conversation happening at least. I’ll get over it.” 

“Look, compromise - we can go back to cuddling and watching sappy movies, and then after tonight, you move on and find someone to pine over that isn't me. And I'll still be there for you, as a friend. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

Courtney nestles herself in Bianca’s lap again. Bianca smiles softly, gently pressing a kiss to Courtney’s forehead. Courtney feels a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She likes this  - even if she knows it won’t last. After tonight, they’d part ways again; back to an occasional lingering glance across the bar, or a hand hovering over a waist on a night out. But why should she wake up right now? 

******

“Bea- fuck, what time is it?”

Courtney says groggily, lifting her head off of the couch cushion. She’s still wearing the sweatpants and cropped Gerri Halliwell tee she’d put on yesterday morning. Bianca is standing in front of her, fully dressed with a Starbucks cup in each hand. She hands one to Court - almond latte, extra shot and chestnut praline syrup. The fact that Bea had remembered her coffee order makes her melt. 

“Six-thirty. Get up and get your shit together.” “Why?” Courtney asks, her voice dry as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

“Some of the snow cleared overnight - there’s a flight from LaGuardia to Toronto at ten am, you can get a connection to Sydney from there and be home by the 26th. I know it’s not perfect, but it’s something.” 

“Bianca, you didn’t have to…” 

“Yeah, but I did. Come on, let’s get you home to your family.”

Courtney stands up, pulling Bianca into a tight hug, her eyes moist. And then she stops, pulling back a little. 

“What about you?” 

Bianca gives a tight-lipped smile. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

[thefixeraa]

i’m  furious  so  i’m  going  to  rant ,   it  will  be  under  a  read  more  so  honestly  feel  free  to  ignore  the  fuck  out  of  this .

so  had  my  annual  review  today ,   and  it  was  horrible .   i  left  the  meeting  upset ,   angry  and  devalued  as  a  employee .   mainly  my  customer  service  is  shit ,   hey  we  all  know  this  because  i’ve  been  saying  it  since  day  fucking  one   (  and  even  told  my  main  manager  three  months  in  on  my  first  one v one  meeting  that  one :   despite  my  previous  experience  in  customer  service  and  doing  it  well ,   i  find  that  my  own  issues  regarding  face  to  fact  interactions  with  other  people ,   because  of  many  reasons .   is  difficult  for  me  to  play  this  customer  service  part  that  is  happy  and  smile-y  and  honestly  ridden  with  toxic  positivity  despite  the  fact  someone  might  be  a  complete  dick  head  to  me .   two :   my  mental  health  is  not  what  it  used  to  be  because  i’m  actively  taking  steps  to  heal .   )   

but  then  they  were  nit - picking  things  about  my  performance ,   as  an  example  i  had  to  yell  for  a  manager  because  at  the  time  i  couldn’t  take  cash -   i  had  just  clocked  in ,   thirty  fucking  minutes  early  mind  you   ...   i  had  to  count  my  till  in and  other  than  that  it  wasn’t  my  register ,   so  i  couldn’t  take  someone’s  cash  on  that  register .   but  because  i  was  attempting  to  explain  why  i  couldn’t  take  cash ,  they  said  it  confused  the  customer  more .   like  excuse  me  for  having  to  explain  the  situation  to  a  customer .   maybe  that’s  just  my irrational  response  to  things ,  but  i  literally  just  started  my  shift .   it  is  technically  my  monday .   give  me  a fucking  break .   oh  and  let  me  not  start  talking  about  how  i’m  not  approachable  to  do  tasks ,   only  because  i  have  a  “ face ”  that  suggests  that  i don’t  want  to  be  bothered .

point  of  the  matter  is ,   i  have  done  pretty  well  despite  my  poor  performance  in  customer  service .   yes  it  isn’t  that  good ,   but  it’s  not  like  i  curse  out  every  single  customer .  i  have  my  good  days  and  my  really  bad  days -   but  despite  that  i  still  come  early ,  i  start  my  shift  and  i  get  things  done .   my  manager  asks  me  to  do  things ,  i  do  it  and  yes ,   that’s  even  with  my  bitch  face   (  sorry ,   i  can’t  always  change  the  face  i  fucking  have .  )   this  past  year  i  have  pushed  myself  to  it’s  limits ,   without  much  complaints ,   without  much  push  back .   i  have  burnt  myself  out ,   not  once  but  twice  and  i’m  currently  in  that  sort  of  mental  state  right  now .   yet  ?   i  am  still  a  hard  fucking  worker .   hell  i’ve  gotten  fucking  hives  from  being  so  stressed  out  with  my  personal  shit  and  work  combined  BUT  I  FUCKING  DON’T  COMPLAIN !  i  just  keep  pushing ,   like  the  good  worker  bee  that  i  am .   hell  i  didn’t   take  any  sick  days ,   minus  my  trip  to  italy .   i  worked  hard  for  them  when  we  were  short  staffed .   i  busted  my  ass  during  the  holidays .   i  go  out  of  my  way  to  make  sure  everyone  i  work  with  is  fucking  communicating  and  seeing  where  they  are  at -   because  i  don’t  fucking  just  think  about  myself .   when  i  get  really  worked  up ,   i  walk  away  and  go  outside  instead  of  keeping  myself  at  the  register .

what  pisses  me  off  more  is  that  despite  everything ,   despite  the  burn  out  and  clocking  in  early  and  doing  the  work  and  working  hard .   i  didn’t  “ earn ”  my  fucking  raise .   now  i  have  to  wait  five  fucking  months  to  see  if  i  have  earned  it .   so  in  the  end ,   my  suffering  and  hard  work  doesn’t  mean  a  god  damn  thing  to  them  and  this  is  fucking  capitalism  as  its  fucking  finest .

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

I can’t find the video but I remember enough to post about it anyway so here goes.

I was on TikTok awhile back. I’ve been on AutismTok since forever - it’s what led me to the test (RAASD-R) that encouraged me to research & realize my therapist was correct (that I’m autistic, not just ADHD). And one video in particular, it came across my FYP.

This is what I remember: “I told my father that people think I’m condescending to them, and he got really sad. He told me that my grandfather was also called condescending, but the interesting thing is my grandfather //didn’t// condescend to people. He was autistic, and he spoke to everyone the same, because he had trouble switching register—and yes, sometimes that meant he used academic language. But when my father was growing up, and he //did// condescend to people he thought were dumb, they no longer felt condescended to.”

(switching register has to do both with the tone you use (difficulty changing your tone/putting emotional inflection in your voice), the speed you speak at (we always talk fast), & your choice of words/type of language (informal v academic for example))

With that in mind...

The line “he had trouble switching register” because he’s autistic came back to me just now.

& I realized.

I have this “customer service voice” that’s higher pitched. It’s my “performing gender” voice, my feminine voice, my “happy” voice that I used to protect myself growing up - it’s a soprano 2 voice (if you know what I mean, fellow choir kids; for those who don’t know it’s the lower range of the high soprano). It’s the voice we spoke to everyone with. It was the shield so people didn’t realize I was trans, too.

But my normal voice, my real voice that I use when I’m by myself, it’s an alto voice (we were an alto 1 (higher low) & alto 2 (lower low) through the course of high school).

For some reason, my voice switches to the “customer service” soprano no matter who I’m with. If I speak, it happens. I have to painfully, consciously stop myself to speak naturally.

And I kept getting frustrated, like...‘¿why can’t I just “hi, my name is Stardust” in my normal voice? ¿Am I dumb? ¿Why isn’t this working? It should be simple. Just speak normal.’

And then it hit me, when that line came back. ‘He was autistic, so he had trouble switching register; he spoke to everyone the same.’

....It’s because we’re autistic. Our brain has trouble switching register.

So in order to speak lower, //we have to practice a lot//. We have to script it. We have to pre-prepare. If we practice enough, our voice will naturally stay there instead and not force us to jump up to that higher voice.

We started doing that on accident a bit ago, just to practice introducing ourselves, & it started to work a little - we can now speak lower around the employees where we get food, & in public in general. Still working on how to do that at work/jobs (especially interviews), but it’s progress.

And I’m now realizing it works because of that - as an autistic ADHDer, our brain needs to repeat it a lot first before it becomes natural.

We have to script it, to rewrite the script. Because we were masking.

And of course knowing that, we can be a lot gentler with ourselves. Our brain just needs time to rewrite the script, and that’s okay.

We learned that a higher voice with forced tone was safe, so people were less rude & condescending. If we just talk the way we normally do, lower pitched and mostly monotone (most of the time), people condescend/treat us like a stupid toddler (‘oh honey, no no no, that’s something babies know not to do 🥺😇’ (y’know, the dog-and-biscuit ‘I think you’re a dumbass’ tone)), and they bully us (for being slow, for not speaking normal, for stimming), & they just...generally treat us worse. Or straight up gave us the ‘I'm so sorry you exist... 🥺’ tone (like, the soft & sad way people speak around 💀 bodies). So we learned how to stay safe, how to mask. (/srs)

And learning to unmask is scary and lonely, but liberating. (/hopeful)

Internalized ableism is a bitch. 😕 (/frustrated at general society for the time we lost trying to mask)

~Nico

[yespolkadotkitty]

PLEASE pluck Ricky from obscurity like you did Zach!!!

Right so you are all fairly keen on this guy because I also got these:

Pick You Up

Ricky Hauk x reader

Word count: 1700 ~ Warnings: None really. Light angst. Kissing.

Lovely gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

i

You’ve not lived in this town long. The first time you use the gas station, the tall, skinny guy behind the counter glances at you from under his ball cap, the red brim only serving to bring out the slices of amber in his soulful brown eyes. There’s a crease in his cupid’s bow, the thumb print of a God proud of his work. He rings up your service, gives you a collection time.

When you park up back at home, you see it. A note under your unused windscreen wiper.

Autumn in her eyes

Her hair ropes of burnished gold,

Kissed by corners of the

Falling leaves. Will seasons pass

Before I look upon her

Once more?

ii 

The poem was from him. You know it. You know it because the next time you bring your car back, when winter’s starting to bite chunks out of the temperature, you see him write something on your receipt in the same loopy scrawl. He sees you looking. Ricky is embroidered on his navy blue overalls. A flush creeps up his cheeks, and you wonder how old he is. Twenty? You could cry over his perfect cheekbones. 

“It should be more than that?” you ask when he rings you up.

The corner of his mouth curves up. “Returning customer discount. No one will miss a few quarts of gas.”

There’s a worn, tattered book propping up a wonky corner of the cash register. A Poem for Every Day of the Year.

And when you arrive home, there’s another scrap of paper under your windscreen wiper.

Winter’s grasp is far-reaching

Fingers dug in tight

But footprints thaw frozen ground,

A smile melts frostbite

Inch by Inch

You fold the paper carefully, tuck it under a magnet on your fridge, next to the one you already have. Wonder what it means. If he writes poetry for all his customers.

iii 

Before Winter ends, your exhaust pipe crashes off the end of your car and you narrowly miss swerving off the road in shock at the huge bang it makes. You drive right to the service station, and like a dream, there he is, the huge roller door of the workshop open, and he’s bent over another car, his ball cap on backwards, overalls half-unzipped. Heat is pumping out of the workshop interior and you park your car. As you shut the door, Ricky looks up, and his face goes slack for a second, before he plasters a polite query on the handsome canvas. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“Exhaust pipe fell off on the highway,” you sigh. “I know she’s a hunk of junk, but I just can’t afford to replace her, not yet.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Ricky holds out his hand for the keys, a smear of grease on his thumb, and you stare at his palm for a moment, wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin. If he’d leave a fingerprint of grease behind.

You wouldn’t mind much, if he did.

iv

You have to leave the car overnight, eventually. Ricky comes into the tiny office with the noisy watercooler and tiny wall-mounted TV that only shows one God-awful news channel. His hands are shoved into his overall pockets and there’s a streak of engine grease on his cheek.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but she’s gonna have to stay in until tomorrow. My boss has gotta check the weld, and he’s stuck in the snowstorm one state over.”

“Okay.” You’re not cross with him. What would be the point?

Ricky looks from the clock to you. He probably has a hot date you’re keeping him from, you think with a little sadness. “Um, I’ve gotta lock up now. I can drive you home. If you want.” He jerks his thumb at the window to his right. A beaten up red truck sits outside.

“Thank you. That’d be great.”

The snow has started to fall in earnest. Ricky locks up the gas station and pockets the keys as the shutter finally closes up tight. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re safely strapped in before he gets in on his side and starts the engine. “You’ll have to direct me.” He tugs off the ball cap and stuffs it in the glove box.

“Wait,” you say, as his hand hovers over the stick.

He glances at you with an eyebrow raised, that poet’s mouth set solemnly, his tiger iron eyes so large in his face, larger somehow with his thick hair sticking up at all angles, and he looks so young but like he has an old soul. Like he’s seen so much; too much, and he is so tired.

“Why did you write me those poems?”

Ricky looks away, chewing his bottom lip.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“So what?” he throws back, still not looking at you. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Your heart cracks down the middle. “No, it isn’t. They were beautiful. I kept them.”

His gaze shoots to yours. “You are beautiful,” he says, very soberly. 

And you lift your hand to his cheek and then he’s kissing you, earnestly, his lips soft and sweet and unpracticed. Not that you’re experienced, but you estimate yourself as perhaps half a decade older than him. He groans into your mouth and desire skitters through you. You part your lips for him and he finally touches you, just a hand on your thigh, his palm warm through your worn, old jeans.

The drive to your house is full of thick, syrupy tension. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way Ricky subtly adjusts himself during the ten minute trip.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to help him out with that.

He parks outside your building, and you kiss him again before you leave, nipping at his tempting lower lip, making him curse, low and sweet in that sinful, husky voice, still a little thready with youth.

“I’ll work on your car first thing tomorrow?” he half asks, half informs you, as you open the passenger door. The cold wind arcs in, biting at your skin. “I could pick you up. Early. If you want.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

Ricky catches your hand, tangles your fingers. “Guys like me write poetry about girls like you because it’s the only way we’ll be with you,” he mutters, and there’s something so sad and resigned in the depths of his butterscotch gaze.

You don’t know what to say, and if you kiss him again you run the serious risk of being arrested for indecent behaviour in his truck.

v

He’s early the next morning. You’re not ready. 

“Come up,” you say through the buzzer, and in a matter of moments you’re opening your apartment door to him. He holds the service station ball cap in his hands, wringing it nervously, and his overalls are half-unzipped to reveal a plain white t-shirt. He smells of cheap cologne and minty toothpaste, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Want a coffee?” you ask. “I’ll be five minutes.”

“No, thanks. Uh, I’m fine.” He stands by the door, like he needs permission to sit down. 

You rush around, calling your boss to remind him about your car situation. He’s stuck at home anyway due to a snowdrift, so he doesn’t chew you out.

Pulling on your winter boots - hopefully they’ll see you through to March - you step out of the bedroom. Ricky’s leaning over your kitchen counter, scrawling something on a post-it note. He jerks up, guilt sketched on his angular face.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all.”

He folds the paper over. “Don’t read it.. Til later.”

He turns to face you, hesitates, wariness and want and need laid bare in those gorgeous hazelnut eyes.

“Could I… kiss you? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and Ricky cups your face in his broad, callused hands, and lowers his mouth to yours, and the kiss starts soft and sweet, explorative, and then you slide your hands up his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his thick, tattered-silk hair, and he backs you into the wall, his lips urgent on yours, licking into your mouth, and you drink him in like you’re starved for the taste of him. He groans against your lips, one hand slipping down your back to palm your ass, and-

And your phone rings shrilly from your bag. Your work mobile.

You and Ricky spring apart. 

“I’d better get that.”

It turns out to be a shitty sales call, but the moment’s been broken. You mostly manage to ignore the distended shape of Ricky’s jeans, but his face is red the whole drive to the garage.

When you arrive, a man who you guess to be Ricky’s boss is already there, opening the shutter. Ricky turns to you, his hand hesitant on your thigh. “Maybe…. Maybe you’d wanna see me again? 

You cover his hand with yours, link your fingers. “I’d love to see you again, Ricky.”

His smile lights up the dreary winter day.

*****

Special thanks to @dornish-queen without whose watchlist, this fic would never have happened.

Tagging the Pedro pals! @gamingaquarius @a-seeker-of-imagination @songsformonkeys @alldatalost @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @alienprincesspoop @beccaplaying @cryptkeepersoul @keeper0fthestars @winters-buck @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @jaime1110 @nelba @heatherbel @thewayofthemandalorian @agirllovespasta @seawhisperer @holographic-carmen @mrschiltoncat @mourningbirds1 @emmy-dandiliom918 @trippedmetaldetector @starlight-starwrites @oloreaa @thegreenkid @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @pajamasecrets @knittingqueen13 @skdubbs @opheliaelysia

[wing-ed-thing]

Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter IX)

Synopsis: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty nightlife. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the underground will help you both come to an understanding.

Word Count: 2,877

Warnings: Implied sexual themes, adult themes, language

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI 

Notes: Short chapter this time, sorry. A lot has been going on, but next chapter is a big juicy one! Happy Birthday @altogetherweathered! You’ve really been here since the beginning and you’re support means so much!

A deep exhale. Yor cleared your mind completely, focusing only on your deep inhales, then exhales. All you could see was black behind your lids. Another breath and your fingers twitched against the firm weight under your palms. The energy washed over you, sparking in your fingers. The powerful numbness reached your wrists, then your elbows.

“Take it slow.” Your brow scrunched as you felt the chakra retreat a little lower before shooting up to your shoulders. A spark cracked painfully under your palms. “Sorry…” The apology came low and softly.

Another exhale. The connection sparked in your chest, shooting straight to your heart. You could feel the energy circulating, running through every fiber of your being. It loaded warmth into your system so real that you could almost feel the heat on your skin. You sent your own messages, shooting out feelings of zen, peace, and calm. Your eyes twitched and you focused harder on maintaining the connection. A twitch in your brow. A hiccup in the circulation. Your brows furrowed, but each crease in your forehead led to more holes, the link slipping out of your control. The chakra probed into each crevice in your mind, seeping in and pulling thoughts and memories with reckless abandon.

Parts of your childhood sailed down the stream of consciousness. Your father. Your old family pet. Ramen on Tuesdays. The waterfall outside of the village. Minato becoming Hokage.

You resurfaced with a gasp. You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. Guy sat, legs crossed and concerned, in front of you. His palms still turned upwards. The corners of his lips slumped.

“Maybe we should take a break.” You opened your mouth to dispute him. Guy spoke your name with a certain amount of sternness.

Guy looked at the clock. He could hardly believe it. And if you hadn’t been sitting in front of him, he wouldn’t have. Two and a half. Two and a half hours since you had burst through the partition door. Two and a half hours since you marched up to him, hands on your hips. He’d never forget the words you said.

“Okay.” Guy remembered your hands firmly on your hips. “I’m ready. I’m ready to tackle this mission the right way.” He recalled your tight lips. “Would you help me? Please.”

Your huffing brought Guy back to reality. Your lips vibrated as you did so.

“I’ll grab some waters.”

You rose from the couch, shedding your hoodie as you did so. You and Guy had been working HEAVEN for a little over a month now with no promising and accessible leads. You were sure that they were out there, but you certainly weren’t getting lucky as of late. So while you waited, all there was to do was practice. You filled up two glasses. Guy leaned against the back of the couch, sticking an arm out to take his drink which you handed him. You circled around to the other end, taking your seat once again. This had become a nightly routine for the two of you.

“I think you’re getting better,” He remarked.

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t feel like it.” You fanned yourself with the TV guide. “I feel like I keep slipping easier and easier.”

“It’s a powerful jutsu and I have deep recesses of strong chakra. I’d be surprised if mastering it was easy.” Guy placed his empty glass on the coffee table. Practicing this jutsu took a lot of chakra out of him too. “But really, you’re improving. It’s stronger, I can tell that you have more control.”

“I’ll need to have all the control I can get if we get into trouble with someone competent.”

“Who? Like Orochimaru?” Guy hummed. You sucked on the cheek. Your head tilted to the side.

“Well we don’t know it’s Orochimaru.” A sip.

“We’re pretty sure, though.” You rolled the glass between your hands, watching as the creases in your hands left prints on the cold surface.

“I dunno, Guy. I just have a feeling about this and my feeling is that this isn’t Orochimaru’s doing.” Guy bit back a small smile. You’ve been using his name as of late.

“All signs seem to be pointing to him.” He told you with a shrug. “But you’re right, we should wait until we have some more evidence.” He shifted cross-legged on the couch cushions. He held his hands out, wrists resting on his knees. “Ready to go again?”

You set your drink down.

“Yeah, sure.”

You mirrored his posture. Closing your eyes, you took a breath. Your hands slipped onto his, surrendering your vulnerability and your mind.

The chakra cracked like static, excited as it flowed from you. The loading occurred quicker this time, though not by much. The frigid heat rose in you, occupying chakra point after chakra point. You felt it well in the center of your forehead as the energy spread to your core of your chest. Guy spoke your name softly, almost in question. Your brow twitched, but the circulation remained uninterrupted. You felt his warmth across your network being kept at bay.

“I know it was a long time ago, but you haven’t heard from that Kabuto, have you?”

Immediately, you faltered. The connection continued, probing into your soul. You tried your best to keep it at bay. You fed through unrelated memories. Lunch at the Academy. Late night workouts. It flowed into Guy, a sense of peace spreading across his skin.

“No.”

The corner of his lips twitched. Something was off, but he couldn’t place it.

***

Working HEAVEN could hardly be considered a task that could be run like a well-oiled machine, but somehow both you and Guy fell into a rhythm that seemed to work. Guy ran a rag over an empty space at the counter of the bar. A new customer quickly took the seat. With a flick of his wrist, a napkin flew in front of the patron, gently floating down onto the hard surface in front of his folded arms. The man looked up, impressed.

“What can I get for ya’?”

Daisuke emerged from the hall to his office, nodding happily at the state of his business. He was absolutely thrilled to say the least, especially with his new hires. Guy handled the bar with such skill, that HEAVEN quickly started to rise as one of the hottest clubs in the Sound. And as he predicted, Daisuke’s new hostess seemed to leave all her clients like they had just awakened from a sweet dream. Business was booming. The club was busier than ever and the hostesses were more exhausted than ever. Together, they worked a sea of men, all telling themselves that the commission would make the hassle of taking on more regulars was worth it. A hired band played upbeat music over the low roar of chatter.

Guy noticed Daisuke’s appearance at the side of the bar, his face lighting up. He gave an exclamation, juggling bottles in his usual show.

“Ah! Daisuke! Care for a drink?” Guy called out jovially, bouncing a bottle of liquor off of his bicep.

“Not at the moment, Genki. I think I’m still a bit tipsy from what you made me earlier!” Daisuke laughed deeply. You watched the interaction out of the corner of your eye, tucked under the arm of a client. Guy didn’t miss a beat, pouring a fancy concoction into four glasses at once.

“Well, let me know, Boss!” He said, letting his Might Guy show for a moment in his signature thumbs-up pose. Daisuke mirrored the gesture.

“As long as you don’t drop any of my product!” And with that joke, he walked off into the club. Your focus returned to your customer, almost done with your session.

You made momentary eye contact with Guy. Slowly, you moved a piece of hair behind your ear. Code. Guy flicked his bangs to the side. He finished the round of drinks in front of him, putting them on a tray for the next hostess before servicing the bar patrons. One part of being a ninja that Guy silently thanked was the ability to multitask quickly and efficiently. He turned out order after order, his mind almost turning off as he did so. Almost. After all, making drinks was hardly his current focus.

Guy studied a man at the edge of the bar with his peripheral vision. He had been there a while and looked to be a high ranking sound ninja. Guy slid him his refill and the stranger gave him thanks. Sensing a break in his work, Guy took a moment to stop.

“All drinks tonight, my good friend?” He mused. The customer hummed. “There are so many beautiful women here tonight, you shouldn’t have to keep me company.” Guy chuckled. Even in his acting, he found it hard to play into his surroundings. Much like you, Guy turned to you to help find ways of his own to circumvent his comfort zones. The man let out a snicker.

“My girl ain’t here tonight.” He took a large gulp of his strong beverage. Guy busied his hands with a monotonous task, but looked up in feigned shock.

“You’ve tried out the new one, haven’t you?”

Guy couldn’t help but cringe on the inside. Despite working this mission for quite some time, he still had trouble adjusting to the language. He nearly gagged. Tried out the new one. Like he spoke about a pair of pants or some other object. But, he would put his reservations aside. He would be damned if he didn’t act like a professional, after all. Guy glanced over at you, partially deliberate and partially to remind himself to find comfort in your coaching.

The patron followed Guy’s gaze. He leaned against the bar as he craned his neck, his glass gripped loosely by the top between his fingers. He clicked his tongue.

“Eh, no. I have not. What’s she like?” Guy lined up a few groups of drinks on a tray. “Aside from drop dead gorgeous of course.”

“Spitfire if I’ve ever met one. Intelligent, feisty-” The ninja scoffed.

“Ah, nah I pass on difficult women.”

“Not difficult.” Guy leaned on the counter. “Sexy, confident. Her name literally means ‘dream’, you know. Trust me, you’ll walk out of here in a daze.” The man looked up from his drink with sceptical amusement.

“Either you’re a really good salesman or she was one hell of a lay.”

“Don’t kiss and tell, Genki.” Your chide cut through the atmosphere.

The attention of the bar fell to you as you sauntered up. One of the patrons yielded his seat to you and you thanked him, dragging one hand down his cheek. The chakra flowed, undetectably, from your fingers. The man’s face turned red. You slid onto the stool which happened to be next to Guy’s target.

“I’d never dream of it, Yume.” Guy chuckled and you gave him a subtle nod. You could take it from here.

Guy returned to his duties at the bar, putting on a show to distract the crowd from your interrogation. One hand on the ninja’s wrist and he wouldn’t suspect a thing. Guy watched your handiwork out of the corner of his eye. You had really grown in your training. Even to his elite senses, your jutsu was near undetectable.

And client after client, it went exactly like that. Guy began to learn what characteristics to look for and you began to extract information quicker and quicker. Granted, most of the information did not turn out to be anything useful. You sorted through the confessions in a mental list. Married. Alcoholic. Gay. Cheater. It had been far too long since you and Guy got a break.

The night creeped up on you. The longer you worked, the less you seemed to acknowledge time. Drink after drink and client after client, the staff of HEAVEN worked into the night. And with just an hour before closing the pack came in as they usually did.

The group of Sound ninja seemed to have grown in size since you had last seen them the day before. They hounded the bar, Guy scrambling to prepare all of their orders. You had remained at your pace on the far end, stalking the group with your eyes in preparation to pull at a weak link. After all, they would be leaving for the back room soon and no time could be spared.

You spied Shou on the other side of the bar and playfully motioned him over.

“Shou!” You greeted grandly with a smile, arms out to embrace him. “When’s the next time you’re taking me away from this place?” Shou fell into your arms, one hand lingering around your waist.

“Soon. Don’t be impatient, now.” He spoke with his usual sternness, but you could detect the faintest playfulness in his voice.

“Hey, lover boy!” Another soldier called from a few stools down. He leaned back, holding out a glass. “Get over here and get your fuckin’ drink.”

Shou laughed, waving off his friend before turning to you for a kiss. Your hand came up between the two of you, obstructing his lips with two of your fingers.

“Go get your drink, baby.”

Guy eyed you, but swiftly turned away.

The hour flew by. As clients left, more and more hostesses came to mingle around the bar, hoping to milk some extra commission money. But the group decided to turn into the back room around closing. The women broke away together, varying levels of sour. In the migration, you spied the same woman who typically came with the group finishing her drink at the end of the bar. As the men left, she threw down a few ryō before exiting HEAVEN like every time before.

Except this time, you were curious, curious enough to follow. Wordlessly you slid down from your stool, making your way to the hall. You stopped right across from the dressing room to glance down towards Daisuke’s office. A muffled uproar came from behind the mahogany door. You pushed a hand into the door of the kitchenette as Yuzuki stormed out of the office, clutching a small piece of paper in her hand.

“This is shit, Daisuke. You know this is shit. I might as well go to HEX if you have the nerve to steal from us like this.”

You could see straight into the small room. Daisuke sat still at his desk. Yuzuki stormed past you.

“Are you okay?” You asked, letting the kitchenette door close as you turned to face her. She seethed, jaw clenched.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Yuzuki huffed before storming off. You took a breath before resuming your task.

***

The woman stood right outside where you expected her. She buried herself in her jacket, leaning against the side of the building. You carried two disposable cups in your hands, steaming and warm. You approached her and offered her one.

“It’s been getting colder out here.” You observed. The woman looked down at the cup.

“What is it?”

“Green tea,” You answered. “I thought you might like a cup.” Your breath floated visibly in the cold air. She gave a low nod before taking the cup from you with silent thanks.

“That’s very kind of you.” You took your spot next to her, lower back flush against the wall.

“Well, I thought you could use something to help that headache you no doubt have after being in that crowd.” You joked and she gave a light snicker and a smile. You blew on your beverage. You stood together looking out at the stars. That had to be your favorite part of the night. The neon signs just started to turn off around this time, revealing the specks of light above. “I just noticed that you come out here every time the others go back and that perhaps you could use some company.”

“I can’t say that these kinds of places are exactly my favorite.” She admitted before pausing. “No offense.” You waved at her with one hand.

“None taken, I completely understand.” Another pause. The wind blew, whipping your faux hair around and taking a few degrees off of your tea. You heard a scoff.

“I don’t get how you people do it.” The woman shook her head slowly, crumpling up the cup before shooting it to the nearest trash. She missed.

“Do what?”

“Deal with those guys all day.” The woman shoved her hands in her pockets. “I give you serious props. I couldn’t do that.” You looked at her kindly.

“Sometimes you do what you have to do.” You smiled softly, directing your gaze downward. “But… I have restrained myself from multiple punches. Genki can attest to that.” The woman snickered along with you.

“Yeah, me too. But something tells me that you have more self-restraint than I do.” She hummed. “Genki, that’s the-”

“Bartender.” You nodded and she mirrored, an eyebrow quirking.

“He sure is sweet on you.” She mused. You blinked at her blankly, expecting an explanation. She shifted. “Anyone with a brain could see that. But who knows.”

You swirled around the half inch of green tea that remained in your cup.

“Yeah, who knows.”

Notes: What do ya’ll think about the pacing so far? I’m curious because I think it’s too fast. Will someone let me know if it’s too fast? Thanks. 

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[heartofsnark]

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

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

Word Count: 15327 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dex isn’t skimping though.” 

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

“You’re welcome.” 

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

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

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

“I-”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

“Yet somehow you always do.” 

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

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

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

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

“Did you fuck my wife?” 

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

“I got started cause you fucked my wife.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. How's things?”

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

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

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

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

“And?” Bug asks, expectantly. 

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

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

“Say what now?”

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

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

“I want more Aristotle!” 

“Fuck off, both.”

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

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

“Será mejor que sí…”

“Stay in touch”

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

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

“Shit's finally happenin’… “ 

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

“Alright, Hannah, let’s go.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Victorino.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But Taki-san is expecting you, no…?”

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

“Been a nightmare, ugh.” 

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

“Honor's all yours, Hannah.” 

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

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

“Better get goin'.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don't need that, Jack. Enough.”

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

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

“Bar don't look too shabby.”

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

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

“Might take a look around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Big deal.”

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

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

“Evenin, what can I get you, baby?” 

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bourbon and cherry coke.” 

“You got it, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds simple enough…” 

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

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

“Yours truly, that one's mine.”

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

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

“Found it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You played with the bot?”

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

“Mhm. Even the bedrooms in the suites.”

“Seriously?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Get him to the next vent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Little guy’s through.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go for it.” 

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

“Dweller’s inside.”

“Just as planned.”

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

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

“Got’cha” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our friend’s inside.” 

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

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

“Holy shit.” 

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

“Uh, Flathead buddy stays, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lapis lazuli, why?” 

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

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

“Maybe… she read your cards before this?” 

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

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

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

“That how it was with you and Misty?” 

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

“That you were in loooove~.”

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

“Romantic.” 

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

“So you say.” 

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

“I’m gonna pay him.” 

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

“I… gave him a hug…” 

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

“I may have only used one arm.” 

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

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

“Flathead wear you out that bad?” 

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

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

“Yeah..maybe…” 

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

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

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

“Who?” 

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

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

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

“So then why’d he come back.” 

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

“Black sheep’s still a sheep, eh?” 

“Maybe…” 

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

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

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

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

“Perfecto, let’s start this show.”

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

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

“Three and a half hours.”

“Eehh… about that stick up the ass…”

“Mean the one up mine?”

“Ehh, slip of the tongue, y'know…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now? Seriously?”

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

“Jesus Christ…” 

Bug sounds a moment away from killing him, but thankfully for the older merc’s sake, the elevator comes to a stop. Doors opening up to Yorinobu’s suite. It feel different, seeing it from her own perspective instead of Evelyn’s and outside of a braindance editor. The entire suit feels bigger. A part of her wonders if it’s the height difference between herself and Evelyn, but decides to chalk it up to braindance shit instead. 

“Huh… not bad bein' heir to the Arasaka empire. Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles,” Jackie comments taking in the room. 

V turns the corner through the room and a tank catches her eye. A slightly red light illuminating an iguana. It immediately reminds her of the only other iguana she knows, Manny. Come to think of it, his original crate was from Arasaka? 

“Hey, Jackie, look!” 

“Whoa, another fuckin’ iguana, not as cute as Manny though.” 

“Manny’s original crate was marked Arasaka; think he might’ve been Yorinobu’s before we klepped him?” 

“Think we stole his iguana and made him get a new one?” 

“Maybe?”  She gently taps the tank glass, watching the iguana’s tail flick back and forth. 

“Guys! Focus! The safe! And make it quick!” Bug yells out, bringing the merc’s back down to earth. V tosses her jacket onto one of the seats in the center, searching around the penthouse. Rain patters outside the windowed walls. They know where the safe is, but how do they get it out of the floor?

“Why, what's the rush?”

“Sig on Yorinobu's gone dark!”

“What is he, a fuckin' sorcerer?”

“Some kinda dead zone's my guess - have him back in a sec. And you do your damn job! Look around for a switch.”

V walks around one of the dividers where Yorinobu’s bed is, the slick metal of a gun catching her eye first and foremost. Black and gray, with purple detailing. She checks it for ammo and finds it loaded then decides it’s hers. 

“Looks like Yori left us a little gift,” she laughs, tucking the iron in her waistband. And on the other side of the bed, she finds a little switch. She presses it. 

“Bingo, got somethin' ejectin’! C'mere, V!” Jackie calls her over to the corner of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

They’re so close to the finish line, each click of her heels feeling like a step closer. This could actually work. A large black safe has risen out of the floor, a small jack in port and two red lights. Jackie stands on one side of it, the gray rainy day behind him. 

“What now, Bug?” 

“Jack in your personal and make us rich.” 

V plugs her personal link in, leaning one hand against the safe. Jackie leans against it from the other side, foreheads nearly touch as they wait for Bug to work her magic. Just get the chip and walk out, that’s all that’s left. All they need to do. She can’t stand still, itching to cross the finish line, minutes away from the major leagues. 

“Gimme two…”

The merc’s interface shows Bug uploading the daemons to crack the case and V watches the number rise. Sixty percent, seventy, seventy-five; each ticking number another shaky breath, a rising beat of her heart, and a chill up her spine. Homestretch, nearly there. 

And there’s a hum, V’s focus drawn away from the rising percentage, to the windows. Flying AV whirring through the gray skies, hovering around. She looks to Jackie, hoping somehow he’ll have an explanation, something to help her ignore the way her stomach is starting to drop. 

“We got winged visitors… Bug…?” There’s catch in his voice, nerves. Jackie’s scared and she swallows the lump in her throat. His face illuminated in the red flashing lights of the case, mean reds, the words flash in V’s mind. 

“Dunno who. But staffs abuzz, all two hundred on their feet, can't keep still…” 

Somethings wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, a chill in her she can’t shake. Something is so fucking wrong. 

“Can't say I like this, how much longer, T?!”

“Shit. Yorinobu's penthouse bound!”

“What!?”V’s voice cracks, digging her nails into the safe, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked. 

“Fuck him!” Jackie slams his hand down, rattling the container, “Open the safe!” 

“Almost got it… Done!”  The safe opens, revealing a cryo-container within. Bright white light and a fog of ice cold air coming with it. V rips her personal jack out. 

“Preem, lets get the fuck out of here!”  

“Lemme look to this, eh?” Jackie says, pulling the container out and looking at the little screens across it. 

“Relic intact?” 

"Bioshard integrity - one hundred percent." Guessin' that's a yes,” Jackie reads off the vitals of the shard, picking up the case. 

“Good,  let’s delta.” 

The pair nearly trip through the center of the penthouse, rushing towards the elevator with Jackie lugging behind the giant cryo-container. So close, so close, so fucking close. An elevator and taxi ride away, then they’ll be at The Afterlife counting their eddies. The homestretch. 

“Fuck, too late!” T-Bug yells before V can hit the elevator button, “Yorinobu's about to walk in - find cover!

“Where in the fuck!?” V swings her hands as she yells, they’re so fucking close. She rakes her nails across her face, leaving red angry marks down her skin. 

“That pillar- try that!” 

“You fuckin' kiddin'?!” Jackie screams as the mercs make a move to the pillar in the center of the penthouse, were she thought servers for the room were kept. The back of it opening up and allowing a tight passageway. 

“No! Inside it! Now!” 

V slips inside as quickly as she can, Jackie following suit. He holds the cry-container close to his chest. The glass barrier is one way, they can see out, but it can’t be seen in. Still not ideal cover, ideally they’d be outside of the fucking hotel by now. The merc presses her hands to the glass, cursing under her breath. 

“We’re in,” she whispers to Bug.

“Which don't solve our problem, T.”

“I fuckin' know our problem's still there! Lemme think for a sec, okay?” 

The lights to the penthouse come on, elevator doors opening as Yorinobu strides in. with mechanical monstrosity of a body guard from the BD taking large whirring steps after him. And he seems even bigger now. He’s a cyber giant, one mech hand larger than  any part of V. 

He’s outlined in red, his eyes staring straight at her,  Vik said her new contacts would highlight if enemies saw her.. No, there’s no possible way. The man has barely set a borged-out foot into the room. She meets his gaze head on, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tries to seem braver than she is. On the off chance he may truly know the mercs are there. 

“Is that… Is that Adam Smasher?” Jackie whispers and V trusts him to look at her hands  as she signs, not wanting to break eye contact with the robotic monstrosity, refusing to show weakness.

“Bodyguard?” 

“Worse,” her trust in her friend is well placed, “Night City legend. Bleak motherfuckin' one, too. What's the plan?”

“We stay quiet and we wait.” 

A flash of movement makes V finally break the stare down, Yorinobu walks to the middle of the room and stops at the seat across from the table, black fabric strewn across it. He picks it up, regarding it for a moment and her heart drops into her stomach. 

V’s jacket. She left her fucking jacket on his chair, like an idiot, she didn’t even have time to consider grabbing it. They’re going to die because she left her fucking jacket out in the open and Adam Smasher is still staring at her. 

She half expects Yorinobu to call a sweep of the room, ring security, that he’ll realize the random jacket must be an intruder. But he shakes his head, tosses it aside onto the floor, not giving it another thought. While his body guard Smasher lingers in the corner, robotic eyes staring straight at V, watching the mercs squirm. 

“Are they here yet?” Yorinobu asks out loud. 

“They approach from the landing pad,” an AI voice responds. 

“Fuck are they talking about?” V resists the urge to elbow Jackie, silence has never been more important. One sound too loud and a borged out psycho will rip their heads off. And if her contacts are right, Smasher may just be waiting for the perfect opportunity. 

“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…. This isn't happening…!” T-Bug whispers over comms and V sees someone coming down the spiraling stairs, a guard it seems, with another older man following him, “Saburo Arasaka.” 

The second man is older, much older than the first. Balding with gray hairs and liver spots across his scalp, glasses perched high upon his nose. Dressed in a mixture of yukata robes over what seems to be slacks and loafers he takes slow measured steps down the stairs. The head capitalist himself, owner of Arasaka. 

“The emperor? Yet another asslickin' legend….” 

V taps Jackie’s side and puts her finger to her lips, encouraging him to be quiet. The man who led Saburo in starts to walk around the room. He’s older than V or Jackie, but nowhere near Saburo’s age. Long graying dark hair pulled back in a bun, cyberware across his neck coming out from under his black suit. 

“I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs,” Yorinobu speaks in his native tongue, V’s contacts translating and subtitling to English. 

“Oh fuck,” Jackie curses as the long haired guard comes to stand in front of them, silver ringed brown eyes starting to scan them. 

“Leave us,” Saburo orders and the guard stops scanning, turning to face the corporate leader. 

“Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep.” The guard turns his back and V can see where part of his hair is shaved, allowing intense cyberware extending beyond his neck and towards his scalp. 

“This is my son.”

“Of course. Should I retrieve what we come here to-” 

“I will handle it. You may go.”

The long haired guard bows and goes to leave the room, finally Adam Smasher’s gaze on her drops, as the borged freak leaves with the guard through the elevator doors. If they’re here to retrieve something… it’s likely the biochip, which means if they go to get it and see it’s gone… They’re fucked. They’re straight fucked. 

“Un-fucking-believable… Saburo Arasaka.” That comment makes V nudge Jackie with her foot, once again begging him to just stay quiet. 

“Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?” Saburo asks his son, barely making eye contact as Yorinobu looks through a datapad. 

“Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever. You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant.” 

“Yorinobu.” 

“Why did you come? To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?”

“"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"

“Couldn't think of anything original to say?” Yorinobu yells in exasperation, standing up and pacing around the room.  He’s on edge, looking ready to jump out of his skin and V can’t say she has a good feeling about any of this. 

“And do you think it ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!”

It’s definitely the biochip Saburo is after, they’re screwed, monumentally screwed. V would laugh if she didn’t feel like dying, of course, of course it all goes to shit. 

“Our future? Ours?! You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes.” Yorinobu points and swings his limbs, still pacing, every word coiled tight with barely restrained hatred. 

“I knew this day would come. That sooner or later your impudence would cross the line,” Saburo is calmer, measured, taking soft steps towards his son, “There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no.” 

The two men, father and son now stand in front of the pillar before an audience they don’t know. Stares trained on each other, each hateful, but one furious in it’s spite and the other calm in it’s contempt. Moments pass, no word said, each waiting for the other to light a fuse that will set off the powder keg. 

“I'm just glad your mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once.” 

And it goes off. Saburo’s words are punctuated by Yorinobu’s hands wrapping tightly around the old man’s throat. Yorinobu slams his father back against the pillar, cracking the glass in front of Jackie and busting open Saburo’s head. Blood streaking the shards. And he pulls away and for a moment, as Saburo clutches at his crushed windpipe, Yorinobu seems nearly regretful. 

“You shall never have to forgive me for anything again.” 

His hands wrap again, choking his father against the pillar. Until Saburo starts to fall limp, Yorinobu bringing him down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Yorinobu stands over his father. Saburo is dead, killed before the merc’s very eyes at the hands of his own son. Jackie curses and V watches as Yorinobu paces, mind clearly racing before he stands over his father’s corpse again. 

“I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown.” 

What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?

“May I ask why?” The AI secretary asks him. 

“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”

“Code red initiated. Attention! Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff.”

Oh no, oh fuck no. The lights in the room drop, only bright neon red ones glowing angry in the dark. What the hell is going to happen? What the fuck do they do now? The elevator doors open, Smasher and the long haired guard walking in; the latter rushes and comes to a full stop when he sees Saburo’s corpse. 

“What happened?”

“Someone… someone poisoned my father.”

“Poisoned…?” 

“Seems so.” 

“Yorinobu-san… I doubt…”

Yorinobu glowers at the guard, pushing into his personal space, trying to intimdate him. Trying to make him stop questioning what happened, trying to stop him from looking any closer. Anyone who gets a good look at Saburo’s corpse will see the fingerprints around his neck. 

“What is your job, Takemura?”

“I don't follow.”

“It's a simple question. Answer it.”

“To protect the head of the Arasaka family.”

“I do sincerely hope you'll do a better job of executing your duties from now on…”

“Forgive me, Arasaka-sama,” the guard drops his head in shame, “I shall not disappoint.” 

Yorinobu turns to leave the suite. The guard, Takemura, follows close behind. And the still red highlighted Smasher follows behind him. The elevator doors close behind them. Jackie and V left alone in the suite again. But what the fuck just happened? 

“What the fuck just happened in there?” T-Bug asks, exactly what’s rattling around V’s skull as the pillar back opens again. Jackie and V clambering out. 

“Yorinobu just killed Saburo, he fucking choked out his own dad, I didn’t even know you could do that!” V rambles and yells as she turns the corner of the pillar, looking down at Saburo’s corpse. She quickly checks his pockets, stealing some cash and a pair of dog tags off of him. 

“What?” 

“His own fuckin’ pops.” 

“Know what this means?l Security's gonna swarm the place any second. Oh my god, we're so fucked!”

“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!” They can’t just go out the elevator, they’d meet security on the way. They’re beyond fucked. Why the hell did they take this stupid fucking job!?

“Gimme a sec!”

There’s the helipad, but it’s not like they have anything that fucking flies. Think, think, think; she screams in her head to just fucking think, there has to be something, anything. 

“We don't have a sec!”

“Okay, got somethin'! Window - now! Releasing the lock! Should see a ladder… Ladder…” 

V sees an opening in the large windowed walls, double doors practically made of glass they goes onto the ledge. This has to be in, T-Bug can undo the lock and they’ll slip out. 

“Oh fuck.” T-Bugs voice drops and a chill shoots up V’s back, something is wrong. 

“Bug!?” 

“No, no, no, no - not now…! I’ve been made… “ 

And panic turns to agony as T-Bug screams, a shrill cry of pain then she’s gone. Connectuon cut and V freezes in place. 

Bug is gone, just gone… 

Maybe, Konpeki just cut their comms? But the scream rings through V’s mind. She’s heard of how runner’s can die, daemons and quick hacks. Having their entire brain fried, every nerve and neuron set on fire, burned from the inside out... And all that's left to find is a simmering corpse stewing in their own filth. Bug was never meant for that, meant to retire, meant to find peace after years of netrunning. But now… 

“Bug.!? Bug!? Can you fuckin’ hear me, Bug please, are you there!?” V calls out, words slurring together. She just needs to hear Bug one more time, and know everything is okay. 

And nothing. 

“¡Pinche Dios Santo bendito! We lost her, V!” 

“They...scorched her...didn’t they…?” 

“We… we gotta go, V,” Jackie says, voice cracking as he smacks at V’s shoulder. 

Bug’s final hack going through, the window unlocked. V steps out through the window onto the ledge, rain pelting her skin as she rushes around the corner. Bug said there’s a ladder they can use, last thing Bug ever said… There’s no time for mourning, no time to cry, they need to get through this. The ledge narrows around the corner, ride lights outside the hotel window guiding the way, secured against the steel of the hotel. V sees the yellow safety ladder. The merc presses her back to the building, gently side stepping across the narrow ledge, if they just reach the ladder. One wrong step and they’ll plummet. 

“You can do it, Jackie… just don't look down,” jackie tries to talk himself up, following V, “ Yep, that's fuckin' high…!”

There’s a whir of engines, an aircraft vehicle buzzing around the outside of the hotel.

“Shit! That Trauma?” Jackie asks and that’s exactly what they need right now, doctors shooting them. 

“If they’re here for Saburo, they’re a little late.” 

“Just hope they didn't see us! ¡Chingada madre!”

The aircraft carrier flies in close, flashing blinding white light onto the mercs. It sees them, definitely sees them. 

“Suspects in violation of security protocols.” The mechanical voice croaks out. 

“Time to bail!’ Jackie screams and the aircraft starts to fire, drone automated shooting at them. 

The glass around them bursts and V jumps, grabbing Jackie’s hand in her left, she swings her right blade out towards the ladder. It hooks in the bottom rung, creaking in distress as it stops their fall. And there the mercs hang, suspended by a single Mantis Blade and a ladder rung; rain pouring down upon them and a drone still searching for them through the debris. The strain pulls at V’s arm, pain shooting throughout, shoulders ache and left arm pulled tight trying to hold Jackie and the case he holds in his other hand. 

If she could pull them up with the blade, maybe they can get to safety. But her muscles already strain, wrought tight with the strength it takes to hold them up. The blade pulling at the inner tissue it’s attached too, never meant to support more weight than the person it’s attached to. Rain and tears sting her eyes as she forces herself to pull with the blade, use it to lift them up. 

“V! I can’t hold on!’ Jackie yells out, rain slick hand starting to slip from her own. She digs her nails into his skin, holding him tighter. 

“Just a bit more, I can do this!” 

Her throat is raw and she doesn’t know how much she believes her own words. Nerves scream in pain as her cyberware pulls at what’s left of her flesh. Muscles cry as forced beyond their capability. She curses beneath her breath, pulling them just a little further up. Immeasurable pain and brute force of will only amounting to the tiniest bit of progress, not even an inch closer to safety. Her blade is pulling further out from her skin, raising up from her arm in a way she knows it shouldn’t. 

Every nerve in her arms on fire; blade tugging at flesh and the other nearly pulled from socket under Jackie’s weight. Barely an inch closer to the safety, Jackie slipping from her grip quicker than she can pull, blade lifting from her arm quicker than she can move them. Her teeth sinks into the inside of her cheek, hard enough to bleed as she pushes herself further. Closer, closer, she urges herself. 

A bright white light shines across them, illuminating them in the gray night, adding another ache to her eyes. Drone marked Arasaka buzzing around, refinding them within the debris of the destroyed hotel wall. The robotic voice speaking again. 

“Violators found.” 

And her blade breaks, V’s eye blown wide as they begin to plummet, shock blurs her pain and deafens the world.  Slowing it for a moment, only able to stare as metal snaps, tissue tears, and her arm is ripped open. Cyberware tearing out tissue and nerves, viscera left behind. 

Then she hits glass, shattering it as gravity slams her through and shock becomes hurt. She hits metal, body bouncing from impact, crying as the air is knocked from her lungs. Her head bashing against something. V clutches her arm, the pain it hitting her as everything else does, blood sticking to her fingers. Each breath hurts, a labored wheeze as bruised lungs strain to work. 

V blinks, sitting up slightly, regaining her sense of self now that her fall is broken. Across from her is Jackie and the cryo-case. She looks at her arm, A solid rip from wrist to near elbow, nearly an open hole, metal and moving inner parts of the cyberware mixed with gore. It doesn’t bleed as much as she'd expect, the internal mechanics helping block major bleed out. It hurts, metal now working against raw nerves. But, she’ll live… if this is the worst that happens, she’ll live.

The cryo-case is dented, part of it sparking and part of it splatted with blood. But her eye is drawn to Jackie. A tear in his gut, shrapnel and glass caught him well, bleeding more than her. The white of the button up around his stomach turned scarlet. 

“The Relic! ¡Madres! Agh… Oh, this ain't good. Agh…” Jackie curses, each breath pained. 

“Jackie, you’re hurt!” 

“Worry about me later,” he growls, “check the relic… "Container depressurized. Biochip integrity at ninety-four percent." And fuckin' droppin'! Carajo! Parker! Call her!”

“And tell her what!? We fucked up!?” 

“Just do it!”

Evelyn answers after a short ring, her avatar coming across V’s contacts. 

“V?! Konpeki's all over the feeds! What the fuck's going on there?”

“Got a problem! Cryo-case is damaged. Biochip's integrity at… Jackie?”

“Eighty-six percent!”

“Eighty-six percent and droppin'!”

“Shit…! OK, listen to me. There's only one thing you can do. One of you's gotta slot the Relic into your neural port!”

“That sounds really dangerous!” 

God only knows how this biochip could fuck them up, the relic itself is like putting another personality in your head, seeing ghosts. If this one is even half as fucked up as that, they could be putting themselves in serious danger. 

“The longer you wait, the greater the risk we lose it!” 

“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Jackie says, voice a rasp, face steadily draining color as he opens the case, “In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit - Amen.”

Jackie crosses his body with the pray and pushes the chip into his neural port and V watches his eyes light up for a moment. And he’s quiet for another, a second too long.

“You okay?” 

“Dunno… I guess… Don't feel any different.”

“Once you're back, we'll take out the Relic and run a full brain scan and sweep. But you two need to get the fuck out of there first!”

“We’re working on it!” 

Jackie and V get back on their feet. He holds his hand to his stomach, trying to press his guts together and she keeps her arm held close to her chest, not putting pressure on it. Jackie calls Delamain. 

“Del, we'll be there in a couple. Be ready, got it?”

“Certainly, Mr. Welles.”

“Better be fuckin' certain.”

“We gotta somehow… reach the lobby. Only chance to hit the garage. And we'd best be quick,” Jackie jabs himself with an air hypo, “ Oh-ho, that's the shit… Great… Now let's get outta here.”

“Wait, take your jacket off, use it to keep pressure on your gut, okay? Should help with the bleeding.” 

It’s minimal first aid knowledge, she knows. Hold something to a wound to keep it from bleeding out as quickly. But it’s all she can offer, helping Jackie get the jacket off with one hand, so he can press it to his stomach wound. She can move her right hand somewhat, but it hurts and she swears she can see the tendons moving around the metal in the gaping wound her forearm has become. She catches herself wondering if she’ll be able to sign with her right hand again. But, there’s no time for those fears. 

She walks down the red lit metal grate, heels nearly catching in it as she turns to a doorway. V leads the way, less injured than Jackie, she pushes the door open. A door lobby with glass banisters and plants, the only light the bright red ones. 

“Great… Now let's get outta here,” Jackie says, each word a stressful choking sound to get out. 

An AI voice speaks repeatedly over the speakers that Konpeki plaza is in code red, as the mercs work to move quickly and quietly. Catching the murmuring of two guards as they reach a marble staircase, speaking of sweeping the floors and checking the lobby. They creep around the corner and past a desk, seeing the back of the men’s through the glass banister. The only sound the pounding of V’s heart and Jackie’s labored breathing. They watch as the two men separate, enough space for each to grab one. 

They move down the last stretch of the stairs, guards talking about evacuating Yorinobu. She lets Jackie take the one closest to them as she moves further to the one at the doorway. V swings her left blade, now her only one, through the man’s gut. Her right arm shoots pain through each nerve, metal inside churching to dispense a blade that no longer exists. She holds back a sound, Jackie’s already choked out the other guard, checking for pockets. Each one armed with a silenced gun. She steals ammo off of them.

They come to another door, each catching their breath. Sweat clinging to V’s brow as they brace themselves for what’s to come next. 

“Careful… security likely to be swarmin' outside,” Jackie warns and V nods, words clumping together in her throat as she opens the door. 

They stay crouched, spotting more guards as they go. The pair hide behind a planter, V taking a scan of the area, spotting a security camera. Remembering Bug’s lessons, she’s quickly able to shut them off. She’s the one to step back out, leading the way for the first time in months of working together. V needs to get Jackie through this, he’s holding on now, but.. 

She grabs a guard from behind and snaps their neck, arm twinging in agony at the movement she throws their body aside, clearing a long stretch of hallway for Jackie to follow her down. All light bright red and screens that once showed commercials now flash the words, Code Red. She leaves Jackie to stay hidden behind a counter when she sees another by the doorway, jumping at his back and dropping him just like his coworker.  

“Ain't doin' too bad… Just a little further…” Jackie whispers as she drops another guy, her arm screaming at her to stop. But she’ll survive without an arm, if worse comes to worse, she can’t let Jackie get hurt any worse. 

They creep through a door, past a desk, hearing a guard yelling out as they sneak and weave through the room. She watches over the top of a planter as the guard walks past them, none the wiser as V creeps around, getting behind him, and taking him down. She can’t risk leaving any behind, leaving one alive and them finding the mercs later. The hotel is huge, a labyrinth of Arasaka guards. 

“Engaging hostiles!” A voice booms out, the mercs spotted by a heavily armed Arasaka guard who nearly trips over V.

Fuck, fuck, so much for stealth. Jackie shoots over a counter, trying to stay somewhat protected from the gunfire, while V takes lead, firing Yorinobu’s gun at the men, only dropping behind cover to reload, she blasts. Fuck it, stealth not an option, she’ll turn the whole damn hotel into a blood bath. 

The guards drop and V knows she’s been shot, but she’s standing so she moves onward. Through a doorway, three more men open fire as the mercs turn the corner. V blasts a bullet through ones head, Jackie blows the second full of holes. 

“One more fucker dead!” 

The third is further back behind a glass door and V charges forward, glass open as she fires at the man. Bullets ripping through his chest in a spray of blood before he collapses, red smeared across the marble. If she gets a chance to sleep tonight, she’ll be seeing red in her dreams. The vivid neon lights of the emergency lit hotel, the burgundy uniforms, and the steady spray of it from every shot fired. 

Jackie and V go running around a corner, through another glass doorway and slide into side of a marble planter. Taking a moment to breathe, she can hear guards talking. Orders from higher up, panicked yells from the less experienced. She can spot two around the corner, but can’t get a clear shot. She runs to the open doorway, catching one off guard as she slams into his view and rips a blade through his gut. 

A full armored worker fires off when he sees it, partially hidden by a linen rack. Another runs in, half hiding behind a planter, firing off around the corner. She presses against a wall between it and a partial doorway, reloading before she looks back through. The less armored man moves around a pillar, peeking from behind cover, and she shoots his head as soon as she sees it, watching him hit the marble. 

She struggles to get a clear shot of the third, still hidden behind the rack and so she runs forward, past the rack and coming to a sliding stop behind him. The guard fumbles to swing around when he realizes where she’s landed. Back turned to Jackie now, her friend fires a shot clean through the guard’s head. 

The room is cleared for a moment and the elevator is nearby, she runs past a desk, when she sees the button screen. A glowing red off symbol. 

“Fuck!” 

“Chingo tu madre! It's shut down! What about the other one?” Jackie yells between rattling breaths, she wanted this to be stealthy, didn’t want to put him anymore danger. 

She runs, heels clicking against blood streaked marble, nearly tripping over a corpse. Quickly trying to stop herself when another guard springs up behind a desk. Two more swarming the room, one in the heavy almost samurai-like Arasaka armor. 

“Orale! Got to plough through them!” 

She focuses on the Saka samurai, pulling the trigger again and again,  Thankful to have emptied the ammo off every body she’s dropped so far. A bullet catches his throat, a gush of blood as he paints the floor,  and she shifts to the other men. A headshot on one, the other already down thanks to Jackie. 

V searches their corpses, pocketing ammo and bounce backs, when she finds an access token on the samurai. V thanks any god that may be listening, if they exist and makes a beeline for the elevator at the end of the room. 

“Got access,” she breathes out, calling the elevator. 

Its doors open and she steps in, the side railing lit that bright red. She waits as Jackie rushes in, he’s still in somewhat decent shape it seems. Not the ideal heist, she thinks as she hits the button, but maybe they can get out of this. Rush Jackie to a ripper, check on T-Bug, collect their eddies, and tonight will be a story to tell later. Remember the Konpeki Heist, how everything that could go wrong did. 

“Hah-… agh! Heh, hng…” She can’t tell if he’s laughing or groaning in pain, maybe both. Blood is coating his hands, has he bled through the jacket? No, Jackie’s bulletproof, said it himself a billion times. He’ll be okay, he has to be. 

“Jackie…”

“Saburo Arasaka, Hundred and fifty years… and today… of all fuckin' days. That's like… some divine comedy shit… hehehehe… agh.”

And he’s laughing, of course he is, holding his guts together and he laughs, because why would Jackie Welles do anything else. She’s not sure if she’s going to cry or laugh along, if she’s charmed or infuriated by it; is he just still desperately searching for that silver lining or does he genuinely not give a fuck if he flatlines? That idea, the thought, makes her throat tighten. He can’t die, he won’t die, she won’t let him. 

“Save your strength, please, we’re not out of the woods yet.” 

“What do you think I’m doing!?” She doesn’t miss the frustration, because if he wasn’t so hurt, he’d been the one leading that battle, charging in to take brunt of it all, “Buuut… chill, V. We'll get out alive.” 

“I know we will,” she says and wants so desperately to believe.

The elevator reaches the lobby, doors open to more guards, more gunfire. She shoots at one that looks out behind a wall, three more in the main room of the lobby. Jackie slides behind a desk, using it for cover between shots. V takes lead, shooting from around a doorway. Its chaos and mayhem, V blasting the four men. One dropping behind a chair, catching one through the green ferns growing from a planter.  Three more Arasaka corpses, splattering blood across marble and the roots of those towering trees. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, until her ears are ringing and three remain; the mercs and one last guard. 

He throws a grenade across the room at them, V shooting it in the air before it can hit them, smoke and fire smoldering across the ceiling. She uses the chance to close the gap and blows his brains out at close range.  

Room cleared they rush through the rest of the lobby, finally reaching the elevator that will take them to the garage. V slams the button, calling the elevator. The door opens and she runs inside, expecting Jackie to run in after her. His steps are slowing and he leans against the wall for a moment instead, having to catch a second wind. He’s getting worse, but they’re in the homestretch, they can do this. They can do this, he stumbles through, leaning against the elevator wall. 

“Argh… I'm leakin' a little…” His voice a rasp. 

The elevator stops at the garage, so close to safety. Doors opening she can already hear the guards and the mercs step out, eye on them, its a swarm of Arasaka. Gunfire rings out alongside the screech of brakes. The Delamain taxis coming to a stop in the center of the garage, it’s doors flinging open. 

“I advise that you waste no time in entering the vehicle,” Delamain chirps at them, like this is a normal night. 

But she needs no prodding. V grabs Jackie’s hand and runs for the taxi, dragging him through the garage to the open doors. Rather than making him walk around, she shoves Jackie through her side on the right, letting him slide into the left seat before she jumps in; he needs the extra second of protection more than her.  The doors shut, bulletproof shields raising as they the taxi is blasted by the guards. They’re safe? Right?

“Welcome back. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door….”

“DRIVE NOW!” 

And Delamain does just that, engines firing up as he rams through the garage door like it’s nothing. She leans forward on the two front seats. As the taxi takes a sharp turn, they’re almost there, almost safe. Jackie wasn’t fucking around about the combat mode. 

“Not bad at all.” 

“Client feedback noted.”

“How’s the ride looking?” 

“Tiptop. Though alas, we are being pursued.”

And then she sees him, Adam Smasher, the borged monster of a former man rushes them. No hesitation, no fear, as he slams his entire body into the car. Shattering glass, gnashing metal, and nearly sending the car to the side; slamming V and Jackie to the right. 

“Sweet fuckin’ jesus!” 

Jackie curses as V screams, the hell kind of freak is this guy? The car goes back down on its wheels. Adam Smasher on a metal knee, slowing standing up on front of the car. 

“Combat mode activated. Please remain calm.”

“Calm!!!????” She yells out as Delamain begins to drive backwards. 

 “Road block ahead. I kindly request that you brace for impact.”

“¡Oy, mis huevos! Shiiiit!”

The cab takes a turn, rather than driving through Adam Smasher, it goes through another roadway. A row of cars blocking the way and Delamain slams through through without hesitation, taking them through the Night City roads away from the hotel. Jackie is hunched over, bloody hands still pressing the jacket to his gut, the white shirt soaked through with it. 

“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.”

V doesn’t need a word more from the AI taxi, climbing halfway out of the window, she spots the drones flying after them. Three of them. Needing steadier aim, she flips off her hearing aids with a thought, steeling herself as the car weaves through the road and she fires at them. This is Arasaka’s last ditch effor to keep a lock on them, if she can get rid of them, they’re in the clear. 

Three shots; first drone goes down sparking as it hits the city streets. Two more kills the second, the metal remains slamming into a streetlamp. And the third goes down with a final shot, smoldering onto the roof of a  BD store. She turns her hearing aids back on as she slides into her seat again; they’re gone. 

“Hostile aircraft eliminated.”

“Nice work there… Del…”

She shifts to look at Jackie, he has one hand on his stomach, the other braced against the door. V grabs his shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, practically shaking him. 

“We did it, Jackie! We made it!” 

“Heh...guess we did…” It’s not the triumphant excited Jackie, she’d expect to hear. His voice still rough, a rattle barely leaving his lungs. Her eyes sting, no, no. 

“My medical diagnostics indicate that Mr. Welles’ condition is critical.”

“Critical, what- take us to a fucking ripperdoc, now! Vik’s behind Misty’s shop!” 

She reaches to put pressure against the jacket over his wound, hand over his, but the fabric is bled all the way through. Blood sticking to her skin, warmer than Jackie’s skin and he’s looking pale, paler every second. He leans back against the chair, strength starting to leave his body. 

“Apologies, but that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been pre-arranged and paid for in advance. I am not at liberty to alter it.”

“Fuck your itinerary and fuck your liberty, just get us to goddamn doctor!” 

“It's OK, V… I'll hold out…” 

When did his nose start to bleed, when he did he start hacking up blood, red streaking down his nostrils and over his chin. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes starting to water. No, not Jackie, anyone but him… please.  She doesn’t know who she’s begging; maybe god, maybe fate, maybe just anything in this world that will listen. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out, nodding, “you-you just got to hold on, okay? And, and, we’ll hit the major leagues. Only the best jobs, swimming in eddies, just like you always wanted.” 

She brings her forehead to his, feeling the cold sweat of his skin, hoping her warmth, touch, her words; anything will keep him alert. The tears flow freely now, wet and hot on her cheeks. 

“Mija...  you’re gonna be rich, I can feel it…” 

“No, we’re gonna be rich, Jackie! You and me, that’s how it’s always been, I-I can’t do it without you, y-you got to stay with me okay! We’ll get back, you can see Misty and your mom, everyone and let them know you made it.” 

“Misty… She knew… She always knew…” he breathes out, eyes glassy with a weak smile, “told me not to take this job, why she always got to be right?” 

“J-just a little longer, please, Jackie...please,” she begs him, like he can stop it. Like he can put his inside back together, stop the color from draining out of his face, and can just stay with her. 

“The biochip…” he holds her shoulder, grasp weak, and takes the chip from his head with the other, “Hold on to it. For me…”

And he slides it into her neuroport, her vision glitching for a moment. She surges forward, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can, burying his head into his chest, crying into him as she clings tightly; wishing she had the strength to just hold him together. 

“Please, please, Jackie, I can’t lose you, just a little longer, please,” she sobs into his ashen skin and blood soaked shirt, begging with every slowed beat of his heart. 

For a moment his hands graze her back and she waits for a bear hug, for him to squeeze the breath from her lungs and lift her from her seat like he’s done so many times. For him to be Jackie; her best friend, her partner in crimes, her brother, her everything. But his touch is faint, the space between each beat growing further and further. Until his hands fall limp, body slack in her arms, and she knows the next heartbeat will never come. 

And she sobs, she holds him and cries out her pain, if only for a moment. No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie…. And it’s not fair and it’s not right. 

“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” A robotic voice asks and she realizes the car is no longer moving. 

She forces herself to let him go, one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do. Pulling away, she sees him, truly lifeless. Bright green eyes now dull with no light behind them, limp hands falling away from her. 

“W-what?” She stumbles over the word, brain fogged over with grief. 

“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”

“I…he-he’d want to be with his family,” she stumbles across her words. 

“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ” 

That’s right… Dex… The chip. The world didn’t stop spinning, only her’s. There’s still a job. And the idea of still going, that there’s a tomorrow beyond today, seems unfathomable. How the hell could she ever move on…  

Because Jackie would kill her if she didn’t and she knows that. He’d haunt her for a thousand years and kick her ass every day of it. She looks at the remains, her friend gone, now limp and bleeding across white leather. And knows if he could speak, he’d tell her to get her ass to that hotel room and finish this job, that he and Bug didn’t die just for V to bury herself alongside them. She squeezes his shoulder, presses her forehead to Jackie’s one last time, feeling the cold of his skin. 

“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”

V opens the car door and steps out into the backlot behind the motel. Rain pours down across her bloodied skin, soaking her to the bones, a numb chill clinging to her. Painted across brick is the Night City emblem marks the wall, red graffiti altering its slogan.. The city of broken dreams… 

She moves, on autopilot as she makes her way up the stairs and to the back door of the motel, sheltered from the rain once she’s in a trash filled back room. The motel is bathed in the neon red lights, only offset by the white of sign bearing its name, it’s always red. She stumbles up the staircase and then  another, past a tv chattering on about Saburo Arasaka. 

The merc walks down the gloomy hallway, dark except for warm yellow floor lights, Graffiti covered walls, rain washing down the windows at the end of it. And she reaches room 204, her arm leaden as she knocks. 

No response. 

“Its V,” she yells out, knocking harder. 

The door opens but before she can take another step, Dex’s body guard takes a step out. Large hand blocking her from coming further. He checks the hallway, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a moment, he finally pulls away. 

“He waiting.” 

The man takes a step back, allowing V into the room. She pushes through a bead curtain and sees Dex, leaning over a TV screen, another cigar between his golden fingers. She clears her throat, hearing the door close behind her. 

“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?” 

“He’s...dead,” her voice breaks, words like thorns in her throat. Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips… 

“Condolences friend,” he tells her, shifting to look at her rather than the tv, “and the relic?” 

“Here,” she says, voice a murmur as she taps her neural port. 

“Hmm, I was afraid of that…” 

“What?!” 

She got the fucking relic, everyone is fucking dead, but she got the relic! Everyone died for this fucking chip and now he’s disappointed that she has it!?

“Saburo Arasaka?” Dex paces, smoking his cigar, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!’

“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-” she stalls, wanting to say she didn’t do anything, but can she say that? Can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths… 

"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”

“We...we got to leave the city.” 

Badlands isn’t the safest for her, but it will be safer with money, she could settle in another city, maybe. She can outrun her family more than Arasaka. 

“You don’t say.” 

“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.” 

“A’ight, settle down,” he sits down on the leather couch, “Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

He points her to the bathroom of the motel and she nods, in no place to argue, she just wants to be on the other side of this mess. To be able to tell herself at least she made it to the major leagues, at least Jackie would be proud of her, even if he isn’t here to see it. 

V stumbles into the bathroom, legs wobbling. Everything should hurt, her arm ripped open. Bruises mottling every inch of flesh. But she’s… numb. She works on autopilot, only somewhat aware of the door shutting behind her as she grips the sink, streaking blood across the silver.

Her blood and Jackie’s. 

Bile rushes up her throat, stinging as she pukes into the sink, choking and gagging it out. The tears threaten to come again, eyes stinging as he nails dig into the sink. He’s gone, he’s really fucking gone. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood and name, her rock, and world. The man who took her in, who gave her a goal, a life… 

And how’d she repay him? 

Watch him die in the back of a Delamain. All her promises to keep him safe, to repay back all the kindness he gave to her. And she couldn’t save him, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t do shit but hold him. Fuckin’ only time she really hugged him with all she had and she doesn’t even know if he could really feel it, if his body was too numb. 

If she would have refused the job. 

If she had gotten them up the ladder. 

If she had been stronger. 

If she had been stealthier.

If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker. 

If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.

If she knew better first aid. 

If….if… if… 

Thoughts spin and whirl through her mind, a thousand reasons why it’s her fault. Why she could have saved him, why she could have done more, why she failed him… 

Misty will never take Jackie’s last name and it’s V’s  fault. They’ll never have kids, they’ll never buy a home together, he’ll never get to take her to that stupid hotel bar with the annoying waiter. 

Senora Welles will be forced to bury her son and it’s V’s fault. She’ll never hold her son again. Never see him smile again. Never see him live out his dream. Never cook his favorite foods for him and nag him not to talk with his mouth full. 

Jackie had a future, a family, people who loved him. He was going to marry Misty one day, have kids. Get enough eddies to provide for them and his mom. And now there’s a hole in all of their lives. The world as a whole now worse off without him, her own world destroyed. It should have been her, she knows that, the world would be better off losing her than losing him. 

Yet here she is and she’s just supposed to keep moving, supposed to keep breathing, supposed to live a life post Jackie. 

When she looks up, she sees her own reflection staring back at her. Red rimmed eyes, swollen  from crying and blood splattered across her skin, stuck in the ends of her hair. And she doesn’t know where it’s from, if it’s her own, if it’s Jackie’s, or if it’s from the people she killed tonight. T-Bug and Jackie gone, yet she’s here. 

A brilliant talented netrunner is gone. But she’s still here. 

The kindest man to walk in Night City is gone. But she’s still here. 

She glares at herself, because she has no right to be here and the world has no right to be this cruel. Her fingers clenches, pulling at her damaged nerve endings and she slams her fist into the mirror. Glass shatters and crackles, shards splintering into her knuckles. 

V washes the blood from her hands and face, cleaner but still a zombie as she turns to the door. Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job. She stumbles to the bathroom door and opens it, stepping out.

Knuckles collide with her head, wracking more pain through an already injured merc, she’s sent sprawling to the ground. She curses and twists around on the floor, not sure she has the energy to stand back up, vision blurring as Dex’s bodyguard stomps on her. Heavy foot colliding with her head. She curses and sputters choking on blood.  She twists onto her back, blinking through the pain as Dex’s bodyguard hands him a pistol. The fixer walks closer, standing over her.

“Can't risk it, V,” he says casually, leveling his gun with her head,” ‘Member our first convo?”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, spitting blood as she stares down the barrel. 

“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.” 

The shot rings out, loud and clear, the world going dark as a bullet rips through the young merc’s head. Blood splatters across the dirty carpet, her body going limp, a final breath gurgling forth as she chokes on her own blood, iron taste clinging in the back of her throat. 

Then she’s gone. 

[rvmmm21]

[ V V S her diamonds ] – ch 04.

[5:45 p.m.] Washed-out rays of sunshine flood the arcade cafe, and Seungwan can’t contain her flourishing smile at the thought of Bae Joohyun visiting her at work. 

. . . . .

Sometimes I wish I could go and live in the clouds of your fantasies.

Being a part-time barista is a safe-haven for all of hers.

The junior buzzes around behind the counter, systematically preparing orders of cakes and coffees on the tiny overhead order slips. A satisfied hum sounds as she finishes prettying the dessert display and slides the glass window closed.

Cake display, check. 

Watermelon lychee-mint crush, coming up.

She dries her hands after spooning the frozen watermelon chunks into the blender, and the crinkle of her leather apron sounds brand new for some reason. Perhaps it’s because she feels brand new. Either way, her customers seem to pick up on her good mood too, and it blows her usually gruelling shift by like a light summer breeze. The hustle of work-pressed university students scrambling for their sugar rushes and extra shots of caffeine dulls in her ears, the memory of the past three weeks sitting at the very forefront of her thoughts. 

The past three weeks of back and forth texting, weekly study dates and a volantly climbing heart rate– wait no, a steadily building friendship.

About halfway through the afternoon, the regular tempo of her shift suddenly interrupts with a swish of silky hair and an award winning smile. 

“Wow, a barista. Cute and talented, I see. Where do I sign up?”

Seungwan adjusts the straps on her apron, blinking. “Taeyeon sunbaenim?”

“Kidding, kidding,” the girl laughs, holding her hand out as if that would somehow quell the bout of unease that had begun to well in the pit of Seungwan’s stomach. 

Remaining professional, she answers with a nervous laugh of her own. “What can I get for you today, sunbaenim?”

Taeyeon hums, tapping a delicate finger to her chin while she stares down at the fancy little menu. A vague smirk graces pink lips as her fingertip traces the bold laminated print. “Hm, what do your pancakes come with?”

Seungwan leans over the cash register to glaze over the small description underneath and then snaps back up, knowing the ingredients by heart already. “Oh! They’re plain buttermilk, but you can choose your topping! Uh… strawberries and ice cream is– it’s a customer favourite, if you’d like.” 

A hum of deliberation. “I see. And do I get special service?”

“S-Sorry?” The suggestion in her tone chokes the girl, unsure of what that means. 

Taeyeon gracefully giggles and leans over the counter to playfully tap Seungwan on the shoulder. “Yah, you’re too funny. I meant an extra scoop of ice cream. Since we know each other, obviously. Why, what were you thinking?”

“Ah! Of course I can do that for you,” she chuckles awkwardly, keying in the order. Seungwan’s fingers flinch around the Amex Black Card when it doesn’t slip out of Taeyeon’s as easily. Chestnut eyes peek up at her, and from the casual smirk on her face, the older girl seems to know what she’s doing.

“Oh yeah,” her expression contorts as though she’s trying to recall why she’s now holding up a small queue of foot-tapping, huffing customers. “How’s your project going?” 

She answers hastily, eyeing the holdup. “It’s great! Joohyun unnie is really helping me with this class.”

Taeyeon raises a brow. “Unnie?”

“Y-Yeah, Joohyun unnie’s great, can– can I take your card, please?” she reiterates.

“Ah,” the other girl finally nods in realisation, “you two are close friends now. That’s great! I’m glad to hear it’s going well.” The grip on the credit card slackens. “Thank you, Seungwan.”

Seungwan purses her lips, stiffly rocking on her heels as they both wait for the card reader to go ‘beep’. Once Taeyeon walks away, her tension dispels with a heavy sigh and she signals for the next customer.

Softy’s Autumn Morning comes on the set playlist shuffle. Pleasant lo-fi beats ripple through the cafe and Seungwan gently bops along as she works, carefully eyeing the bubbling pancake mix to make sure it doesn’t burn. 

Time seems to slow to a glacial pace. That is, until the little bronze bell chimes and a certain someone walks in. Seungwan recognises that vintage Balenciaga Defile Sport hoodie in a heartbeat. Her legs kick into gear and she rushes over to meet her. Joohyun approaches the counter with her signature gaze of boredom, but hides a laugh behind her sweater paw when she sees the barista almost trip over her own sneakers. 

Five minutes later, said barista is hunched over a small cup of latte, hands steadily crafting two pointy milk ears with the help of a toothpick.

As she pops a little bonus on the saucer in replacement of their standard Lotus Biscoff biscuit, Seungwan wonders where Sooyoung and Jennie are, melting a little at how Joohyun looks so small and harmless without the final duo to complete her killer posse. God, when they're all three together, it gets really hard to not believe she'sthe precious daughter of South Korea's most elusive mafia boss. The rumours have to come from somewhere, right? She takes a deep breath to steel her nerves before serving the mafia daughter sitting by the window.

“Enjoy your coffee, unnie!” she chirps, setting the steaming drink down. Service with a complimentary home baked cookie is her way of saying ‘I think you’re super cool’. 

Totally embarrassed at her dumb little gift, the girl slinks back to her station with sizzling ears before her senior can even thank her.

How cute.

Joohyun’s lips curl into a secret smile at the milk foam cat happily greeting her from her latte.

. . . . .

[7:45 p.m.] Seulgi whines when she goes to get a Cola from the fridge and finds the door wide open with Yerim chugging milk straight from the carton. Her roommate calmly caps the lid, dutifully ignoring her.

. . . . .

Polystyrene containers of spicy tteokbokki, salmon sashimi, crispy pork mandu as well as skewers of various glazed meats glisten deliciously under warm living room lights. It’s the perfect go-to cheat day feast. 

“Unnie, you’re like those tragic lovers in my dramas,” the youngest blurts, chewing on her Yakult straw. “Literally every one of them. Too dumb to confess and then drowns in their tears at night. You gonna break the cycle or what?”

Shock seizes Seungwan’s expression before she shakes her head at the way this heartless dongsaeng just takes her feelings and tosses them around like a salad. Still, she thinks, there’s no harm in being honest.

“What’s there to confess? We’re just friends."

Seulgi and Yerim exchange a silent look at the neat pile of tteokbokki on Seungwan’s plate. They remembered only a month ago, their friend seemed to have eyes for nothing else. The dish was so tasty she could marry it, apparently. But its charms seem to have worn off; now overshadowed by Joohyun’s endearingly obnoxious laughter and just about everything about her.

"Plus, you know, I doubt Joohyun unnie sees me that way either."

An epiphany strikes Yerim and she slaps her hand on the table, jabbing a restless finger at her shocked dorm mates. “Zenitsu, Zenitsu! Unnie, you’re Zenitsu, I’ve freaking figured it out.”

Confusion colours Seungwan’s face. “Zenits… who?”

“Zenitsu from Demon Slayer.”

“What?”

“That mopey kid.”

“Yerim-ah…” 

“Demon Slayer. Yerimie’s bingeing it right now. Anime on Netflix or something,” Seulgi explains through a mouthful of dumpling, “she won’t shut up about it. God help us there’s a movie out already.”

Curiosity soon has the confused girl peering at her screen, determined to find out what she’s being called. Thank god for YouTube. 

The youngest feels the heat as she watches her unnie’s expression become more and more deadpan with every passing video.

“Yerim. What, exactly, do you see of me in this?” Seungwan threateningly questions, holding up a paused clip of a cartoon boy grovelling at the feet of a pretty girl. She wonders if it’s wrong to want Joohyun to actually have mafia connections now… and if she’d be willing to share them with her for… purposes.

She shrugs defensively. “What? Don’t you think he’s cute?”

"Don't worry Wan, I don't see it either," Seulgi jumps in.

‘Cute’ isn’t quite the term. The blonde nonchalantly brings the chopsticks to her mouth and bites down… onto thin air. Much to the amusement of the two across her. “Hey how’s it going with Sooyoung?” she turns her attention to the girl sitting cross-legged opposite.

Seulgi tuts in reply, dangling a salmon slice in front of her unimpressed roomie. “Stop trying to change the subject, Wan. It’s sooo obvious.” After a pregnant pause, she grins like a kid on Christmas morning, spilling her own adventures with her third of the black velvet trio in one breath. “But thank you for asking because we’re going to the cinema this weekend.”

Yerim chopsticks another tteokbokki onto her plate. “Ooh, what movie?”

“Oh, uh…” Seulgi shrugs, “dunno… I think Sooyoung knows more about what’s good, so I’ll–”

“You’re gonna let her decide, is what I’m hearing,” the maknae scoffs with an eye roll.

Seungwan smiles.

“Simps… simps! Help, someone save me, you guys are everywhere!” Yerim pretends to drown on land and her friends resist the urge to jump her on the spot. 

. . . . .

[11:09 a.m.] The raven-haired senior catches her unsuspecting junior on her way through campus gardens the next morning and pries her for answers. 

. . . . . 

“Why a cat?”

Seungwan’s eyes form joyous crescent moons. “Unnie!”

Suddenly, she has to keep her focus from dwindling into how good they’d both look sitting under the shade of that big old oak tree. 

Somewhere through the cottoned clouds of her daydreams, they’re on one of their many picnics. Doughnuts, corn-dogs, toasted sandwiches and bottled juice litter the peach gingham mat they’re sitting on, and Joohyun offers her a corner of her Gilgeori toast. Of course, she cheekily tries her luck, leaving her with just the corner instead. She yelps when Joohyun gives her a shoulder thwack well deserved. 

Clumsy knees knock together as they laugh themselves silly, the powdered sugar on their lips melting into a sweet river every time she connects them with a kiss. 

Seungwan bites her lip, wringing her mind of those thoughts, trying to play down the elation at hearing her senior’s curiosity. “A cat? I-I don’t know, I just think they’re funny and– kinda cute.” Her voice goes squeaky with excitement. “You liked it? Unnie! You should order more coffees with milk in them. I’ll draw you a bunny next time!” 

Joohyun nods, willing to buy the cafe’s entire stock if it meant she got to see Seungwan beam like a praised puppy, all too eager to learn its next trick.

And she might’ve just marched down there right now to do as she’d said… if they weren’t ten minutes late for their class. Suddenly they’re both panickedly clutching at each other, torn between sprinting like they’re being chased by hyenas, turning up fashionably late, or hopping around and freaking out about the fact that they’re already eleven minutes late, now.

Joohyun’s wrist is grabbed just as she’s about to suggest the fashionably late option. Then she’s hurtling forward, struggling to keep her books from falling whilst poorly protesting the early-morning PE session. But Seungwan is too busy shouting nonsense into the skies about how this is the final chance the lightning gods get to strike her down and charge her up.

Which would’ve been convincing had her voice not cracked on every other word.

As the pair clumsily sprint down the path of pastel flower bushes, the older girl can’t remember the last time she’s laughed this freely. She can barely get the words out but she feels like she’d explode if she didn’t. 

“Seungwan-ah! You’re giving me a six pack!”

And when Seungwan turns back to laugh with her, something in Joohyun’s static heart ignites.

. . . . .

In the diamond, star-dappled sky, Cherub wakes from his silken cloud. Lily-white wings unfurl at the latest calling.

[zamoimagines]

Someone Else’s Baby

Word count: 1,807

Pairings: Venable x reader, Reader x OC

Chapters: 1, 2

Summary: Things between you and Venable had ended rocky. When Venable realizes that she’s still in love with you, she travels to find you to make things right. You’ve moved on with someone else. Mina is determined to win you back and give you the love you deserve. 

A/N: Here you guys go! It’s been a long wait, but here’s chapter two! Sorry that it’s short but I have a lot more to write up. Enjoy! I hope you guys like it!

A loud crack of thunder rumbled outside of the airport. Most of the other travelers looked nervous, but Wilhelmina wasn’t too worried about the weather. As long as she could get back to sunny Los Angeles and never come to this state again, she was happy to travel in any weather. She turned the page of the book she was reading before the intercom blared a voice from overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing quite some severe weather up in the skies. All flights to Philadelphia, New York, and Los Angeles have been canceled until further notice. Please visit one of our customer service desks to reschedule your flight.”

Everyone around her began to groan and mumble. Wilhelmina’s eyes widened at the sudden news. There was absolutely no way that she was going to be stuck here. Frantically, she reached for her cell phone and called Jeff’s number. When the line connected, she could hear hooting and hollering in the background of the call.

“Miss Venable! What the fuck is up, man!” Jeff cried out.

Wilhelmina rolled her eyes. They must’ve gotten another shipment of coke while she was gone.

“Mr. Pfister, I need a private jet sent to me as soon as possible.”

“Hey! Mutt, Venable’s heading back!”

“YAY!” Mutt yelled into the phone. Venable took the phone away from her ear for a moment so she wouldn’t go deaf.

“Let us talk to Y/N! We wanna know how you wooed her back!” Jeff added.

“She isn’t with me-”

“That’s okay, we’ll talk to her when you guys get back!”

“No, that’s not what I meant-”

“We’ve got a whole wedding to plan, Jeff! We have to come up with a color scheme!” Mutt said with a slurred voice.

“Gentlemen!” Venable shouted into the phone. The people around her stared at her in confusion. All she could do was scowl and turn away from the looks she was being given.

“I’m coming back by myself. She’s moved on.”

The other end of the phone call was completely silent. Venable could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

“If you could just send the jet for me, it would be greatly appreciated. I would like to come home.”

“I thought you had a flight back?” Jeff muttered.

“My flight has been canceled, Mr. Pfister, and I need to be back in my office today.”

“CANCELED?! IT’S FATE!” Mutt yelled once again. She could hear Jeff excitedly laughing as well.

“Miss Venable! Don’t you see it! The universe is fucking telling you to go after her!”

“That’s definitely not what a canceled flight means.”

“Venable, I gotta give it to you straight; Before you met Y/N, you always had a stick up your ass. You never had any fun, you were always working, and I don’t think I ever saw you smile.”

“Yeah, you were a complete bitch!”

“Mutt, shut up!”

All their talk wasn’t making her feel any better. She only felt worse about herself. A single tear rolled down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away.

“What are you trying to say, Mr. Pfister?”

“I’m saying that Y/N completed you. You were so happy, and so in love! You can’t just let it all slip away because you guys had a falling out.”

“What does that have anything to do with my travel back home?”

“That’s the thing, Venable. You’re not coming back home.”

Venable’s heart raced in her chest. They were most definitely trying to torture her, in no way was this any helpful.

“You’re not serious,” Venable growled.

“Actually, I am! You have another two weeks in the Midwest, missy. I’ll call the hotel and tell them that you’re extending your stay.”

“Mr. Pfister, wait-”

“We’ll send some money to your account for food and shit.”

“GOOD LUCK VENABLE!!!” Mutt screamed into the phone. Before Venable could protest, the two hung up on her.

------

After the phone call, Venable had stopped by her hotel to drop off her things. She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around her room and wallowing, so instead, she changed blouse and high waisted pants. Her hair was tied up in a bun; she could care less about the way she looked. Though, with the extra money, she figured it would be good to get out to the grocery store and get little things to eat while her bosses were tormenting her.

Midwestern grocery stores weren’t nearly as packed as the ones she’d gone to in Los Angeles. In fact, the little building she decided to go into barely had any customers. She could get used to staying here. Wilhelmina skimmed at the aisles and tried hard to find something to get her by. She mindlessly filled her cart with random items as she continued throughout the store. For a moment, she paused to look down at everything in the basket.

Raisin bran, a couple of cans of soup, and a bottle of red wine. She sighed heavily. Even her shopping cart was depressing. How was she even going to try to eat anything? Her heart was so broken that it was taking all of her energy to get out and even be here. What would Y/N say…

What was so much better about that blonde? Y/N had never mentioned finding a single blonde attractive as long as Mina had known her. Yes, the new woman was peppy… and positive, kind, and she had a very warm smile. But wasn’t that off-putting? Wilhelmina had never seen someone so happy. What the hell was wrong with her?

She was thrown from her thoughts as she felt her cart crash into something. Mina had run her cart into the wall of the bakery. She groaned in embarrassment. Her thoughts were getting the best of her.

“Oh! Hey there!” a familiar voice called out.

Why was that voice so recognizable? It was a little too bubbly. When Wilhelmina glanced up, she felt a fire brewing in the pit of her stomach.

There was the exact woman she’d been thinking about. She couldn’t even remember her name.

“Please don’t come over here, please don’t see me..” Mina thought to herself. It was too late, the blonde was already making her way over.

“Miss V! I didn’t think I’d see you here!” she exclaimed.

Wilhelmina gripped the handle of the cart so tight that her knuckles turned white.

“Hello… Kara.”

“It’s Keri!” she replied with a giggle. “You’re too funny! Y/N told me you were a hoot.”

“Did she now,” Venable replied in a short tone.

“Love the outfit, by the way. Not a lot of people can pull off that much purple, but you look great in it!”

She was so nice to her. What a fucking bitch.

“Thanks,” Mina replied. She didn’t really care if she sounded genuine. “If you’ll excuse me, I really have to get going-“

“Wait! What are you still doing here?” Keri cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you were leaving yesterday?”

So full of questions. What did Y/N see in her?

“My flight was canceled. Now, I really am a very busy woman-“

“What a coincidence! I cannot believe this, you have to come to the little get together we’re throwing tomorrow night! Here,” Keri had this glimmer in her eyes as if she was doing something good. She quickly pulled out a pen from her purse and yanked on Venable’s hand. The fire in her stomach was growing into a volcanic eruption.

“I’m gonna give you my number. Text me in an hour… Let’s make it a surprise for Y/N!” Keri exclaimed as she wrote into Mina’s skin. “Seriously, she would love to see you. Even if you can’t stay for long, it would mean the world to her if you came.”

As much as Keri was a villain in Mina’s eyes, this was an opportunity that quite frankly had been handed to her. So much could go wrong… What if Y/N didn’t want to see her? Venable couldn’t stand getting her heartbroken again. If she could just tell Y/N the way she felt… that would be all that mattered. At least she would know.

“I… I’ll have to see if I can make it.”

“For sure! Just let me know. It was good to see you, Miss V!”

Keri turned on her heel and was instantly gone. How the fuck did she walk that fast?

Wilhelmina gazed down at the phone number on her hand. She couldn’t find the nerve to be mad at Keri any longer. This was her chance. Perhaps the world was giving her a sign of hope. She never really believed in fate, but this felt different. Her chest felt tight with anxiety.

Venable picked up a few more snacks before heading to the checkout. She was so antsy that she threw random items that she didn’t even think about into her shopping basket. The redhead quickly purchased her things before making her way back to the rental car Mr. Pfister had gotten for her.

The rain pelted against the windshield, echoing loudly from inside. Wilhelmina couldn’t even turn on the car. She stared blankly out of the window. Was this even a good idea? What if she just got rejected once again?

But… What if she won Y/N back?”

“If there’s a god,” Mina began, closing her eyes and leaning her head toward the sky in the sunroof, “Tell me what to do.”

The winds roared outside as the rain came down even harder. Venable’s eyes opened softly. In front of her was Keri, walking out with her groceries. Something was stirring inside of Mina though she wasn’t sure what it was.

Almost without thinking, Mina picked up her phone and dialed the number on her hand. She stared at where Keri was to ensure that the woman was genuine about inviting her. To her surprise, the blonde answered.

“Hello?”

“Keri? This is Wilhelmina Venable.”

“Oh! Hey, what’s up?”

“I…” she hesitated. What else did she have to lose?

“I looked at my schedule… I believe I’ll be able to make it to your event.”

A squeal could be heard on the other end. Venable winced at such a high pitched sound.

“That’s amazing! Oh, Y/N is gonna be so excited! Keep your phone on you, I’ll send you the address and everything through text. This is gonna be great!”

“I’ll make sure to be there.”

“Ugh, you are too cool, Miss V! Oh! The party’s dressy, but casual! We can go shopping if you want-“

“That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course! See you tomorrow night!”

Venable could hear the sound of a click. There was no turning back now. And the most ironic thing?

She needed a damn dress.

REQUEST MORE FICS HERE!

[quidfree]

For prompts: any OCs, maybe something like fake relationship? Sorry if you don’t have OCs I’m curiois

i have so many ocs for my original projects that narrowing it down for this was a nightmare buuut here we are anyhow- something v short and dumb

-

“i just don’t see why van and viv couldn’t have done this,” joa says for about the thousandth time when they get there, aware that he’s been stuck on this refrain since two weeks ago and that his partner is near his boiling point but entirely unable to stop complaining. it’s like something in him thinks if he just points it out one more time someone will take notice and put an end to it.

“van and vivienne could have done this,” ezra says, in the voice he uses when he thinks he’s being extremely patient and long-suffering. “but this was your mission, and if you would have preferred to be here with fucking corlett it is not too late for me to trade places.”

“dude,” joa says. ezra shoots him a look.

“you can’t call me dude. we’re madly in love, if you’ll recollect.”

ezra is funny like that; the pissier he gets the more clipped his vowels get, like those rich new england types that had sometimes swung through california on holidays, all east coast condescension. privately joa thinks ezra has more in common with that crowd than he’d care to admit.

“dude, even if we were really-” he waves his hand vaguely “-i’d still call you dude.”

“you call your girlfriends dude?” ezra inquires, shrewdly.

“thought the whole point was the not being a girl thing.”

“corlett,” ezra threatens, so he shuts up. normally ezra wouldn’t do that to him, or at least would never concede defeat, but when ezra’s really angry there’s no scruples to his revenge plans. as much as he feels ready to drink himself sick with nerves and discomfort at the two of them crashing this stupid wedding, having corlett on his arm instead would ensure he died of liver failure before the bride even hit the aisle.

he doesn’t like how antsy this has made him. ezra doesn’t say it but it’s obvious he thinks joa takes some issue with the gay thing, which isn’t true- he’s normally the most adaptable of them to whatever era they get stuck into; he was the first to know about van, and that’s a whole different ballpark. it’s not the couple he cares about, it’s the acting.

all the lying, sneaking bits of the job- subterfuge, vivi would say- he gets it, but he doesn’t like it. even when it’s shit he knows, is good at, like charming strangers or blending into groups, he feels bad for the people he involves. he knows it’s stupid- it’s not like he’s usually hurting anyone, and the whole point is that they’re helping. van finds the whole exercise fun, and vivienne thrives in it; even ezra, who never does anything but play himself, commits to the bit unflinchingly. he’s the only one who gets nauseous each time they make him do some extended charade. he doesn’t know why they couldn’t just go around killing people without lying about it to boot.

normally ezra knows this kind of thing about him, but if ezra has one fault it’s that thing about missing the forest for the trees. when he’s prickly about something he loses his usual invasive-cum-insightful observational skills. that this particular bout of acting is making him more nauseous than usual is neither here nor there.

despite what viv claims, joa is not entirely convinced that ezra can’t read minds, because just as he thinks this, his hand is grabbed with all of the affection of a snake winding around his arm to cut his circulation off. 

“c’mon, suck it up.”

he only just manages to turn his wince into a half-assed grimace, which earns him a foul look.

“i can’t feel my hand.”

“shut up and look like you love me, bride number one is heading this way.”

she is, inexplicably, looking delectable in a pearly white gown, blonde hair piled in curls atop her head. once their presence registers she smiles at them distractedly, eyes scanning them without recognition. it kicks him into work-mode, smile blooming wide and familiar as he extricates his hand from ezra’s to clasp hers.

“miriam! i’m joa, elena’s cousin- tia grassi’s son? and this is my partner ezra. it’s so nice to meet you, you look beautiful.”

“oh, joa, of course,” miriam says, warmly, relaxing as she gestures them in. “it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

“i’m surprised they have you manning the door,” ezra comments, gesturing to the entrance they’re stood under. “thought that was what the guys in suits were for.”

“sure, sure,” miriam laughs, self-effacingly. “i’m not really playing valet. it’s just we’ve been waiting on the last cake delivery and i’m trying to get the guy through to the back before anyone accidentally tells elena. she’s convinced something’s going to go wrong.”

“sounds familiar,” joa says, with a knowing smile towards ezra, who just about curbs his eyeroll. “also sounds like something you shouldn’t be worrying about on your wedding day. where should we direct him?” 

miriam’s brows raise in surprise; he tries to broadcast sincere helpfulness her way. 

“oh- really? you’d do that?”

“of course. i know how elena gets.”

this sells it; she sighs a little in relief, shakes her head. “you’re a savior. the hall, through the back- it’s just down the ramp and to the left. are you sure?”

“what’s family for?”

only once she’s out of earshot does ezra shoot him a look, eyebrows quirked with amusement.

“what’s family for?”

“fuck you, it worked.”

“your customer service act gives me the hives,” ezra says, although he’s smiling  even as he reclaims his hand in an only marginally less painful grip. joa’s stomach re-knots itself. 

for all that he hates the lying the job involves, there’s something especially discomfiting about roles like these- ones where they keep their names intact, where the stories they construct keep big chunks of their lives unaltered. to the wedding guests they’re still joa and ezra, longtime friends and constantly travelling free-lancers; they may not be time-travellers and there may be some additional intimacy implied, but this joa and ezra have the same back and forth, the same inside jokes, the same dynamic. it makes the lines even blurrier and the lies even more uncomfortable. 

“you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“maybe i am.”

“you’re not. you’re a consummate professional and there’s an agency supervising us and also if you do i’m throwing your mini-fridge out of a window.”

“you wouldn’t like me sober.”

“you wouldn’t like anything sober. i’d tough it out.”

“remind me not to ask you to host my bachelor party.”

“i hate weddings,” ezra says, sourly. joa grins, heartened by his bad mood. viv calls them bad friends for always cheering up at each other’s misery. van calls them disgusting.

“hey, c’mon. this might be fun.”

“oh, sure. i love spending an entire evening pretending to care about two strangers’ impending divorce.”

“oh, c’mon. what about your moms?”

“they’re divorce lawyers. they’re outliers.”

"okay,” joa draws out, just to make him scoff. “themed missions, though. exploding wedding cake? that’s fun.”

“it’s also one of fifteen assassination attempts we’re handling tonight.”

“glass half full, honey.”

ezra flushes an unflattering but extremely charming shade of splotchy red. “half full of arsenic, if case files are to be believed.”

joa sighs, rocking back onto his heels. “talk about cliché, dude. even the cake bomb is more original.”

“messy, though.”

“hey, you love buttercream icing.”

“not mingled with my intestines, i don’t.”

“here comes the truck. are we doing salt lake city sixty five?”

“you read my mind,” ezra agrees, smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “you want the driver?”

so maybe this whole thing won’t entirely suck, joa thinks, smiling back. when ezra’s distracted his hand’s not even that bad to hold.

by the time the afterparty is in full swing, he’s kind of having a good time. foiling assassination attempts always puts him in a good mood, and the service was nice, for what it’s worth- he’d wondered how it would work with two women, but it was sweet in the end, just a couple of tweaks to the sermon and a lot more bridesmaids. he’d cried. ezra had hidden a laugh and complained at length about christianity. dinner had been nice too, although he’d had to eat in quick bursts what with the constant leaving to go thwart ploys to kill the bride. they’d done it under the guise of sneaking out for quickies, an excuse which had earned them surprising amounts of goodwill at their table. gay weddings, and all that.

regardless, they’ve handled attempts numbers one through fourteen and he’s feeling good. the work balances out the awkwardness- sure, he gets queasy when ezra is calmly explaining their meet-cute to strangers, but five minutes later he’s holding a stall door shut while ezra knocks someone’s face into a toilet and it calms his nerves. besides, whoever organised the wedding decided on an open bar for the night, and he’s been downing his fair share of drinks while ezra’s back is turned, which has pushed him into bright magnanimity. ezra will cover for him if he overdoes it, anyways- he still owes him for how coked out he got at that disco in the seventies. 

ezra has launched into a spirited debate of twenty-thirties midwestern politics with some elderly relative; he sips his rum and coke, tuning out the familiar fast-paced scratchy speech to gaze around the room. the music is nice, for the era. so are the brides, currently waltzing merrily around the room and blissfully unaware that this night’s happy ending will set into motion a series of events leading to the discovery of the cure for cancer, or that someone with a penchant for theme has employed fifteen different mediocre hitmen to stop that from happening.

the little themed cocktail umbrella would make a sweet addition to his collection of mementos. as he twirls it he thinks that he was expecting this to be harder, or worse, the whole couples pretence. really dating ezra has just been the exact same as not dating ezra, with some additional niceties thrown in for their audience’s sake. he doesn’t mind the niceties- ezra’s hard to be nice to on the regular, so it’s neat to have him cornered, and besides watching him struggle not to break composure throughout is fun. it’s weirder when it’s ezra’s turn, because ezra’s lying is always half true by default, and it makes him wonder which parts are the lies. 

he’s a little cold in his linen jacket and his drink is gone, so he follows his thoughts and drifts back towards ezra, drapes himself over his back. ezra stiffens like a corpse but doesn’t miss a beat in his sentence, because of course he doesn’t. he’s warm, though, and besides they’re playing pretend boyfriends, so he thinks he’s entitled to some shared heat without it being weird.

“maybe joa could be of use,” ezra is saying currently, obviously trying to throw him under the bus. “joa, do you remember who it was we saw that time with cousin esther at the thing in santa monica?”

“oh, sure,” joa says amiably, chin now resting on his bony shoulder. “rafael.”

the middle-aged couple make noises of recognition; ezra snorts in silent laughter, the movement making his shoulders jump. it’s a lucky guess primarily founded upon the statistics in his actual family. his cousins have shit luck- three of them with the same name has left them with some abominable nicknames. his previously name-dropped tia grassi is the only person stubborn enough to call them all rafael, just in different registers of disappointed suspicion.

ah, his tia grassi. funny woman. mildly terrifying. her fourth wedding had been an event, though he can hardly remember the second half of it, seeing as she’d refused to cater to the child-havers amongst the family and not left any of the punch alcohol-free. all he really remembers is her wedding dress, the cream-coloured version of her default pantsuit with the horrible bow. it’s funny- from where he’s stood there’s a woman right in his line of vision dressed in an orange abomination that looks exactly like the kind of thing only his tia grassi would subject some distant relative to on the day of their wedding.

wait. fuck.

“corazon, my tia grassi is here.”

"no, she’s not.”

“i’m serious, she’s walking right towards us. lady in the orange. fuck, she must be pushing a hundred.”

“shit,” ezra curses, sparing a nod for the couple he was talking to. “excuse us.” 

“she’s following,” joa warns with mild fascination, as they bee-line towards the garden. 

“great,” ezra says, glancing disbelievingly over his shoulder. “why the fuck is she following? and why is she even alive in this decade? how old is that woman?”

“ageless, i don’t know, she probably thinks i’m family,” joa mutters, glancing back. “which i am. just deceased family. she’s not gonna let up, you know.”

“you and your fucking bloodhound relatives. look, we can’t leave, they’re still going to try and do the thing with the fireworks.”

“well, we can’t stay either, or i’m getting marty mcfly’d out of existence, and i’m kinda partial to existing.”

“how is she even following us? scent alone?” ezra mutters, just a shade hysterical, as they wind their way past the bar. “we might have to pull a vermont.”

“oh, dude, no way,” joa says, immediately nauseous. “c’mon. it’s a wedding.”

“you were fine with it when you were beating that guy’s face in with the floral arrangement earlier!”

“yeah, and he was trying to ruin the wedding. this would be us, ruining the wedding. we would be the wedding ruiners.”

“we could choose someone neither of the brides like! they’d be grateful!”

“dude, i am not killing any guests at this wedding.”

“the only other option is worse!”

“no option is worse than murder, ‘zra, that’s kind of murder’s whole thing.”

“yeah? you rather kill hitler or fuck him?”

“always with the ultimatu- woah, woah!”

his second woah gets swallowed, which is probably for the best; ezra’s planting one on him with real determination. his brain short-circuits a bit or something; he doesn’t think to push him off, just lets him at it. it’s usually what works best when ezra’s on a mission, and also as it turns out ezra’s pretty good at the whole kissing thing, and also his nerves are singing and his blood is boiling and he is maybe, potentially kissing back, distractedly and then with intent, their bodies slotting together against the tacky fake rosebush as plastic thorns dig into his back and ezra’s sharp-nailed fingers dig into his shoulders. alcohol has made him warm and fuzzy, but there’s nothing drink-sloppy to it- just continuous, almost familiar ease, and his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

ezra pulls off first, with a nasty sound, head whipping around wildly as joa registers absently that the fireworks were going off in real life too.

“i can’t believe that actually worked.”

“three cheers for latent latin homophobia,” joa says, on auto-pilot, because right, his aunt, and time travel rules, and something. maria joseph and jesus, he’s just kissed a man.

“that and you not being violently sick on me,” ezra says, turning back to face him with his usual frown slotting absently into place. he looks awkward and irritated with his awkwardness and also extremely well-kissed. joa is struck with the realisation that he is entirely fucked in the head, because he finds the picture supremely enticing.

“dude,” he starts, because to be honest they have been skirting around this particular issue for a while and it’s hard to find a time and place to discuss it when it’s not weird or a capital offence. ezra is all narrow-eyed suspicion and coquettishly heaving breaths, which is not helping him focus but definitely helping convince him to labour the point. “i think we should probably- oh, shit, wait, the fireworks.”

he’s running before ezra can so much as cuss, and he gets there just in time, tackling the man right into the bushes and out of harm’s way, voice raised to an apologetic, casual slur even as they grapple for the gun.

“oh, my god, i’m so sorry, i must be drunker than i thought-“

the element of surprise wins him the fight; he manages to slam the guy’s forehead onto a marble lion a couple of times, sound drowned out by the fireworks above.

“honestly,” a slightly out of breath ezra is reproaching nearby, all fond reprobation, and then again once he’s shoved through the bushes himself, losing the affect. “honestly.”

“it’s fine, it’s fine,” joa says, wiping bloody knuckles on the guy’s shirt. “that’s fifteen, right?”

“it’s not fine, it’s fifteen minutes early. if coda is going to send us on these chickenshit gigs you’d think they’d get the fucking timings right.”

“it’s fine, he’s out,” joa repeats, shoving upwards and brushing bits of bush off his clothes. “viv’ll be angry about the suit though.”

“right, like she’s in the costume dep’s good books either after that stunt she pulled with the velvet dress,” ezra snorts, abruptly the voice of reason. “i can’t believe he was fifteen minutes early. that’s twice this week they’ve done this to us.”

“maybe we threw it somehow,” joa defends, rolling his shoulder. “you know the timeline warps the calculations.”

“we didn’t throw anything. twice in a week, seriously. what the fuck do we pay fees for if they can’t even get the timings right? this wouldn’t happen if we had a union.”

“‘zra, there are only ten of us. we are the union.”

“isn’t that a depressing thought. what were you saying earlier?”

“oh, that,” joa says, and then feels sick again. “hey, are you thirsty? i’m pretty thirsty actually.”

“don’t be an asshole.”

“i don’t know, honestly.”

“you’re not doing so hot on the non-asshole front.”

“oh, madre de dios, stop channeling your mom.”

“tu puta madre. i’ll give you passive aggressive.”

“fine,” joa breathes, in one big burst, annoyed and queasy and charmed all in one. “are we- like- ugh, dude, you know what-“

“specify.”

he pauses, exhales. “well, it just feels like maybe we should-“

“probably not.”

“right, but you’d like-“

“does it matter?”

“well, yeah, obviously. it’s just with work, it’s like... you know?”

“sure.”

“not that i...”

“sure.”

“although i don’t actually know if...”

“sure.”

“only then it’s like, overall- i think i want to kiss you off-duty.”

“mazel tov.”

“but would you mind?”

“did the tongue-fucking earlier not broadcast that enough?“

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.”

“a lesbian wedding. that’s their expertise.”

he considers this point.

“hey, you wanna...”

“well, the body,” ezra says, albeit reluctantly. he doesn’t like mess.

“oh, sure,” joa says, thinking. “i guess maybe newark ‘02?”

“yeah, whatever,” ezra shrugs, but there’s a suppressed pleasure in the way he clears his throat. “blue’s your color, you know that?”

“my mom used to say. can you take his feet?”

“jesus, the shoes. hey, did you have some of that cocktail thing earlier?”

“yeah, a couple. there wasn’t extra poison again, was there? because last i saw the res-mac the mormons had it and i so do not want to go to their rooms again.”

“watch the stairs. no, and fuck those guys. i could just taste it earlier. the sour cherry’s not bad but the sugar in this decade tastes weird.”

“the rim is the best part, what the hell?”

“your palate is deranged.”

“you eat pickled fish, jackass.”

“fifteen minutes early. what a schlep.”

“kvetch.” 

“vete a la chingada.”

“don’t i have you for that now?”

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.” 

“funny. so, bar?”

“you have blood all over your cuffs.” 

“like anyone’ll notice. dude, you know they do 360s on ice in this decade?”

“no shit.”

“yeah, right?”

“why the hell are we still standing around not drinking?”

“viv is going to be so mad she missed this.”

“good for her. i’m still pissed about the fucking plath thing.”

“oh, my god, dude. you’re such a hypocrite.”

“name one time-”

“seriously? abbie hoffman?”

“fuck you.”

“holy shit, i think i see my aunt again.”

“are you kidding me? is she part-K9?”

“you’re supposed to be cute about it and kiss me again.”

“i’m not going to be cute about it, i hate that woman. you kiss me since you want to be so cute.”

luckily for the both of them, joa has bad taste. he complies.

[lexlouther989]

Cross posted on AO3(lexilou989) a Tsukishima x Reader piece, litterally my first time writing this fandom and an x reader

Give the Man a Piece of Cake

The bell on the top of the door tinkles softly letting you know that someone has stepped into the shop. You wipe your hands on your apron, the flour dusting it in opaque white.

“Yeah, hello...” you hear an irritated voice call out. This guy obviously has no patience if he can’t wait for you to even get out of the back before getting his panties in a wad.

“Be right there,” you call back sweetly, the fake customer service voice grating on your own nerves as you make your way out of the kitchen. You turn the corner and greet the man on the other side of the glass. “Welcome to Phenomenal Noms, What can I do for you today?” You offer him a slight smile but your eyes already say ‘fuck you’.

The man before you appears to be college age with a 5 o’clock shadow gracing his jawline. Well if you could call it even call the light blonde hair a shadow, maybe more like peach fuzz. The man is dressed in some sports uniform bearing the local college mascot. His black jacket is unzipped showing the colored jersey underneath that sports the number 11, and a pair of black wireless headphones sit casually around his neck. He doesn’t look up from his phone as he calls out his order. “Yeah I’ll take 16 cupcakes, half chocolate and half vanilla…” He pauses. “And a slice of strawberry shortcake.”

You know you shouldn’t feel the joy that rises turning your fake smile genuine when you hear his order. It should be your goal to fill every customer’s order completely, but there is just something about the universe sticking it to someone so obviously on their high horse that brings you satisfaction. “I'm sorry, sir, we sold our last slice of strawberry shortcake about 20 minutes ago. Can I offer you a slice of cherry cheesecake instead?” You know good and well that the substitution you offer is nowhere close to what he asked for, but hey, at least there is fruit on it.

You barely see his caramel colored eyes widen slightly before he replies. “Tch… Some bakery...” He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, just the cupcakes.” You box up his order and send him on his way. The honeyed sarcasm dripping from your tone. “Have a nice evening,” you call to him as he slips his headphones back on and heads out the door.

You make your way back to the kitchen and instead of finishing the project you were working on before the encounter with the blonde jackass. You walk over to the fridge and pull out that last slice of strawberry shortcake you bought for yourself about 25 minutes ago. The first bite tastes like victory.

~

You start to notice a pattern with this customer. He comes in only on Saturdays around 4:30, about 30 minutes before the bakery storefront closes for the evening so you can make wedding cake deliveries around town, for all the ceremonies starting at 7. Wedding season is a constant business and it brings in most of the revenue for your small bakery, but the brick and mortar means just as much to you.

Sometimes the asshole comes in with his teammates, they call him Tsukki and from what you can gather they get cupcakes after their games as either a celebration of victory or a comfort for their loss. In all honesty, you are starting to think these rambunctious kids just like finding an excuse to eat cupcakes. And that makes you chuckle.

You also notice however that when he comes in for the 16 cupcakes with his team members, he doesn’t ask for the strawberry shortcake. You tuck away that interesting fact because it might be useful later.

You’ve made it a habit to buy the last piece of strawberry shortcake every Saturday just out of spite, but on those days when he doesn’t ask for it, your piece usually ends up in the trash. There is no victory if the other person surrenders willingly before the battle begins.

~

This routine has been going on for maybe two and a half months or so, and by now you can tell that he isn't as much of an asshole as he seemed at your first meeting. You have long since dropped the fake customer service voice and chat casually with him every now and again. You know that his first name is Kei, but you still call him Tsukki. He is on the volleyball team at the college whose campus is maybe a 10 minute walk from your door, where he is also a senior in the science program. And he is younger than you. You like to tease him for being a baby even if the age difference is only 5 years.

Today when the bell tinkles at 4:30 you are already in the front of the store. “Hey there, Tsukki, what can I get for you today?” You already know the answer but you always ask anyway.

“Hey you,” he replies, but he looks a little upset. “Just the usual. And a slice of strawberry shortcake if you’ve got any”

You already bought that piece for yourself, but this had been going back and forth for a while now and it seems like he could use a pick me up today. “Well, you are in luck today. We actually have one piece left, let me go wrap it up for you.” You lie to him. But oh man, the genuine smile that lights up his face is worth it. You wrap up his order and he takes it gently like you’ve just handed him the most delicate thing in the world. He is beaming at you like it’s a precious gift and you can’t help but giggle.

“You know we are about to close up and make our wedding deliveries for the evening. Why don’t you come back around 7 and we can hang out for a bit?” Saying that should make you nervous, but he looks so much like a puppy right now that you are pretty sure he would do anything you asked in this moment.

“Oh, uh sure.” he nods, tilting his head to the side as if contemplating what reason you could have for asking him to hang out. This action made him look even more like a puppy and you are giggling again.

“Get out of here then…” You shoo him off. “I’m sure the rest of the team is eagerly awaiting my beautiful creations and I have things to do. Tell everyone I said hello.” You watch him walk away more pep in his step than usual and roll your eyes with the soft shake of your head.

~

Tsukki bounds up to the door right at 7 as you step out and lock up behind yourself. Suddenly you are glad you took time to freshen up and change in the employee bathroom. Both of you are in casual clothes you note happily. You are sporting a pair of balck leggings and a pink off the shoulder shirt, he has on a white v neck and, ‘oh dear god’ you think, a pair of grey sweatpants that hang loosely on his hips. All of the dorky happiness from earlier is gone and replaced by that smug look he wore with his teammates. Two can play at that game.

You guys chat and make your way to a food truck up the street talking about this and that. The snarky comments are being thrown back and forth easily. You enjoy a light dinner as you walk around, really glad this is a good part of town.

The air was on the warmer side, but the constant breeze did chill you a little. You are pretty sure that anybody who happened to look over could see your nipples were hardened from the cold. You haven’t caught Tsukki looking yet, but that was also hard to do when walking right next to someone, especially if they were shorter than you.

“It's getting kinda chilly, would you wanna take this back to my place?” You offer. “It's just right around the corner.” You gesture up the road. “I just moved so I could be closer to work. As long as you don’t judge the stacks of unpacked boxes, you are welcome to come on up.”

“Mmm… I don't think I can make any promises on that, pipsqueak,” he chuckles at your offended expression.

“Rude, now you aren’t welcome at all!” and you take off running knowing he will follow you.

He obviously gives chase but he catches up to you quickly with his long legs and athletic body carrying him faster than you can go. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you to a stop. You let out a loud squeal followed by a fit of giggles as he backs you up against the wall to your condo building. An arm on either side of your head locking you into place while you try to catch your breath.

He leans in and whispers in your left ear, “I’ve got you trapped, now what are you going to do?”

You already have your escape planned and you quickly duck under his other arm. You make it inside your building. Before he recovers, you hit the button for the elevator. Luckily it’s already on the ground floor and you step in as he enters the lobby. “See you on the fifth floor.” You stick your tongue out and you point over to the stairwell. The doors close in his face. His eyes hold an evil glint, he’s obviously accepted your challenge.

In the elevator you are able to catch your breath and fix your messy bun. You can’t help the smile on your face. The elevator doors slide open and Tsukki is already stepping into the hall from the stairwell, only slightly out of breath, the perfect in shape asshole. You run over to your door and try to unlock it as he stalks up behind you. He presses into you from behind, one hand on your waist, the other on yours to help turn the key. You can feel his erection against your ass

and a chill of excitement goes up your spine.

You push the door open and rush in creating some space between the two of you as you yank off your shoes. He closes the door with his foot and kicks his off too, not taking his eyes off you. You cast a glance over your shoulder eyebrow raised and saunter off toward the bedroom, he follows quickly behind you.

There really are stacks of boxes everywhere but the only thing that matters right now is the two of you. He grabs your waist from behind again this time pulling your hips back into him as he leans down and kisses your neck. You tilt your head to the side giving him easier access stifling the small moan that threatens to slip out at the contact.

One of his hands moves from your hips to the waistband at the front of your pants. He pauses for a moment giving you the chance to stop him if you want to, but you definitely don’t want it to stop there. He slips his hand down the front of your pants and he is growling against your neck when he realizes you aren’t wearing any underwear. You just smirk, your left hand going up to tangle in his short hair and your right following his down your pants.

You press his fingers firmly against where you want him and this man, younger than you as he may be, certainly knows how to use his lanky fingers to get you wet and ready for him.

You moan, the pressure on your clit feels so wonderful but it is also too much at the same time. You are about to cum from riding his fingers when he pulls away with a small kiss on your neck.

“Dick.” you call him. He knows how close you were if that smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he teases back, already pulling your top off over your head followed quickly by removing your pants. He pushes you gently forward towards the bed and you know what he wants.

You get on your knees on the bed and press your chest down into the mattress, arching your back and offering yourself up to him. You feel his hands squeeze your ass in a reverent manner and now you know he is a butt guy.

He leans his face in and eats you out eagerly from behind, you can’t help but giggle as Cardi B lyrics roll through your mind “swipe his nose like a credit card”. But the giggle fades into more moans as he once again works you in just the right way. The orgasm that he denied you building again quickly. Your moans must give away how close you are again because he stops and pulls away. His hand stroking his cock slowly as you pout and your body calms back down. “Tsukki..” you whine and he has the nerve to chuckle at you.

You are just about ready to say fuck it and finish yourself off when he lines himself up behind you and pushes inside slowly at first but with much more enthusiasm when you offer little resistance.

“Fuck, pipsqueak,” he goads again with that stupid nickname. He starts off with agonizingly slow thrusts. They feel amazing and your toes are curling on each one. This position lets him hit that perfect spot on every thrust, but you want more. “Dammit I don’t have the fucking patience for this,” he grinds out through clenched teeth and he picks up his pace, bringing you closer to the edge with each thrust.

He doesn’t stop this time. Your orgasm wracks your body causing you to clamp down on his cock, but he still doesn’t stop. You don’t even have time to relax as he fucks you through it another one building close behind.

“Fuck you’re so tight when you cum on my cock!” he exclaims. “Can I slap your ass baby?” he has dropped the nickname for now.

“YEEEESSS!” you moan out. He grabs it again, rougher this time and you fuck back into him wanting to come again. “Oh god I’m gonna cum again!” And your fists curl in the sheets. When he feels you squeeze his cock this time he slaps your ass. Hard. And this time instead of a dry orgasm you squirt around his cock. ‘Well that’s new’ your mind vaguely registers as he fucks into you one more time before he cums too, pulling out and shooting his load on your ass.

For a minute neither of you move as you both catch your breath and come down from the post orgasm high.

“Towel in that box” you gesture to the open box in the corner of the room. He walks over and grabs one before cleaning you up.

He lays down on his back and you cuddle into his armpit, one hand on his chest where you rest your chin to look up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Must have been a damn good strawberry shortcake…”

[teyvatraveled]

hc. Ekaggata voice lines

* As a small note, Ekaggata has a very monotone voice.It’s also slightly deeper than you might expect just by looking at his face. He will hardly show any emotion in expression or his voice.

Hello... “ I’m Ekaggata. Did you need some information? ....That’s the only reason people really talk to me.”

Good Morning... “You’re late.”

Good Afternoon... “I don’t tend to operate in the middle of the day...mind if we stop for a moment to rest?”

Good Evening... “Sorry, just had to do a drop off. Need something? It’ll cost you.”

Good Night... “I got a job I have to get to....What? Expected me to say ‘see you later’ or ‘have a good night’ ? Neither of us have control on either of those things happening. But I guess I could say...try not to die.”

Chat - Fatui Agents... “Excuse me for a moment, I need to go take out some trash.”

Chat - Treasure Hoarders... “You think for a group called ‘Treasure Hoarders’ they would be better at protecting their treasure and their own lives...”

Chat - Headaches... “Ugh...sorry, give me a second. Sometimes my eye feels like it’s going to pop out of my head.”

Chat - Hairpin... “Hey, don’t touch that! It’s important!....Yeah, it’s a real pearl, real gold i think too. Vicara had it made for me. Touch it again and lose your hand.”

When it rains... “Can we find somewhere to wait out the rain? It’s gonna mess with my footwork if I try fighting in this weather.”

After the rain... “Watch your step, the ground is still slippery.”

When it’s windy... “Throwing my knives might get a little tricky, try not to get hit.”

When the wind is blowing... “Can’t Barbatos keep it down for two seconds?”

About Ekaggata... “You know that’s not really my name, right? It is just an alias, if you walked in the circles I do, you’d need one too. Though I suppose, in a way, everyone calling you ‘Traveler’ is just as good of an alias as any.”

About us - Information... “I can get you any information you want, for a price. Sorry, I don’t do discounts for those outside the group. What group? If you were apart of it, you wouldn’t need to ask.”

About us - Reflexes... “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I’m not going to be held responsible for accidentally stabbing you. What? Don’t be stupid, of course I’d stab you if you sneak up on me. One has little choice of what their reflexes do.”

About us - Knives... “Like the design? I make them myself. The wings on the hilt are supposed to look like the anemo sigil - I think I did pretty well. I can customize your weapons too, if you want.”

About us - Ciphers... “Oh, sorry, got distracted trying to decipher this. What? You want to see? Well, you wouldn’t be able to understand it regardless.... heh, the look on your face is priceless.”

About the vision... “Why don’t I use my vision that much? It just makes me tired, can’t really explain it...plus, well, I hate Barbatos. Why did I have to get an anemo vision, ugh.”

Anything to share... “My eyes? Oh, that’s not natural. I had an eye transplant, the red eye technically isn’t even mine. What? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not weird. If anything I owe my life to this eye, and the one who gave it to me.”

Interesting things... “I’ve been to every nation in the world at least once. My favorite? ... I don’t really have one. But I can tell you my least favorite, Snezhnaya. You can practically smell the blood it was built on.”

About Piti... “Oh, you’re hurt. Let’s go see Piti, he’ll make sure you’re back up in no time. Don’t worry about Mora, he doesn’t really charge anything for his service. I can personally attest to his skill as a doctor too.”

About Sukha... “Sorry, I was at the church in Springvale- What? No, I’m not a devout or anything, least of all to Barbatos. I was just going to see Sukha, the priest there. He's a friend. I was just bringing him some wine I got over in Liyue.”

About Vicara.... “I never know what to do with the jewelry Vicara gives me.... I’m not a big fan of wearing such things. They look nice, sure, but they can make noise or easily get caught on something. They’d only interfere with my work. If I had a house, I’d maybe hang them up somewhere... Do you want it? Otherwise, I’m likely just going to sell it.”

About Vitakka... “Vitakka’s cooking is the best. Even if he does tend to overuse meat, I like nearly everything he makes. I’ll have to bring you some next time he cooks too much....which will probably be tonight, because he always cooks too much. Makes me wonder if he thinks he’s cooking for more people than he thinks he is...”

About the Indra’s Net... “I told you to stop asking about them. But if you won’t stop nagging me... They’re my family. We aren’t blood related or anything, but I feel safe with them. I’d die for them. I’d kill for them. That’s all you need to know.”

About Diluc... “Master Diluc? Yeah, I know him. Tried to kill him once. As you can probably tell, I wasn’t successful. You win some, you lose some. He’s alright, though.”

About Kaeya... “I don’t trust that Captain, not one bit. But, he pays well. So I guess I shouldn’t complain.”

More about Ekaggata I... “How’s work? Work is busy, as it usually is. There’s no shortage of people trying to underhand one another, thus my line of work is always profitable.”

More about Ekaggata II... “The city of Freedom, huh? What a load of garbage. Hurry up with your business so we can leave.”

More about Ekagatta III... “A missing sibling huh....I wouldn’t know the feeling. I’m an only child...I think.”

More about Ekaggata IV... “Sorry, I don’t think I can go out tonight. Had a bit too much to drink at the Angel’s Share, Might throw myself off balance. Say, do you think Master Diluc would let me spend the night in the tavern if I asked nicely?”

More about Ekaggata V... “Do yourself a favor, don’t trust me. You don’t want to share the blood I have on my hands.”

Ekaggata’s hobbies... “Hobbies? ...I don’t really have any. If I’m not working, I’m sleeping. So I guess, sleeping is my hobby? I do tend to sleep alot, I’ve scared Piti more times than I can count since sometimes I won’t wake up for days.”

Ekaggata’s troubles... “Huh? What? Do I got something on my face? ....Oh, it’s blood. Don’t worry, it’s not mine. Though I guess I need to wash my coat...Blood is so hard to get out once it dries.”

Favorite food... “I like hot or spicy foods, actually. Anything to shave off the cold...”

Least favorite food... “Get that radish away from me, or do you want to be my next target?”

Birthday... “Anything you want to know? I’ll give you a discount for today only.”

Feelings about Ascension... “Hey, how did you do that? Let me in on the secret - promise I won’t sell it.”

Feelings about Ascension II... “I guess teamwork isn’t that bad... thanks for the help, or whatever.”

Feelings about Ascension III... “I need to go show the guys what I’ve learned!”

Feelings about Ascension - Conclusion... “Look, I’m not good at this kind of thing. I don’t trust you, I don’t trust anyone. But...you’re alright, Traveler.”

Added to party... “Can you even afford me?” “Let’s hurry it up.” “Hmph.”

Elemental Skill... “Back off!” “Come at me, I dare you.” “Idiot! Don’t move!” (when someone is in the cage with him)

Elemental Burst....”I didn’t want to have to use this.” “You’re too slow.” “Let’s finish this.”

Damage.... “Ugh, I was too slow.”

Knocked out... “Piti - a little..help....” “So..tired...”

Dash... “Try to keep up.”

Glide... “This takes me back...”

Idle.... “Time is money.” “C’mon, I’m on a schedule.” “There’s secrets just waiting to be found, so what are we doing just standing here?”

[theshinsun]

A-Z for honesty hour because I'm an asshole. :D

A - If I’m in love.

...yes. I never thought I would be again, I thought I’d been too hurt and jaded to feel this way again, but against all odds, I’m back to being 17 in full force.

B - Who the last person I talked to on the phone was.

The only one who ever calls me is my mother. And customers at work.

C - How long it’s been since I’ve kissed.

damn, almost a year now… not since my last relationship ended back in October-ish. even then, it was mostly casual pecks idk if we ever seriously made out tbh.

D - If I have a preference for boys or girls.

already answered (twice) but I'll keep going… I've got a definite preference of guys over girls, but I'm also a bi disaster and sometimes it doesn't make a lot of sense why this person is instantly attractive to me while that person isn't. certain aspects of femininity do appeal to me, but weirdly other aspects seem to be a turn-off and I can't always put my finger on what or why. ...that caveat does not apply to masculinity though, even if it's traditionally "masculine" features on a feminine-presenting individual I am 100% down every time.

E - How many holes I have in my ears.

two and a half? I got a third piercing at some point halfway up the lobe but it got infected and scarred over I think. the holes I do have are also stretched (I'm up to 0G now) and I've been meaning to get some more.

F - Give me any options, like ‘hot or cold?’

wasn't given any options, so I guess I'll go with hot or cold lol. I prefer hot, I'm one of those weirdos who loves summer because of the heat and I'll usually take a hot food/drink over a cold one.

G - The last person I said ‘I love you’ to.

my mom, over the phone just now.

H - The last person I hugged.

my roommate. we're not always super touchy-feely with each other but I've been feeling kind of down and she noticed.

I - The last time I felt jealous, and why.

I'm not usually a very jealous person, but the last time I really felt that way… I'd recently broken up with my ex, and they were sitting on someone else's lap and I… felt things. part of the reason I realized I may have made a mistake.

J - Are you insecure. What about?

K - What my full name is

already answered, my first and middle are Jacob Brooks, I'm not putting my last name out there sorry I don't trust like that.

L - If I have siblings.

already answered, I've got two, an older brother and a younger sister.

M - If I forgive betrayal.

I mean, I forgive but I don't forget, ya know? like I'll accept an apology if it's sincere and welcome the person back and never bring it up again, but I'm probably gonna be cautious around them in the future, and not trust them as readily as I would have before.  

N - If you want to know how I treat my friends.

if I call someone my friend it means I really feel close with them, and I treat my friends basically like my family. I try to always be honest and supportive of them, bc I love and appreciate them and just want them to be happy. 

O - If I like my school.

I love my school. the campus is beautiful, the teachers are fantastic, and I just love being there and learning and growing in my classes. I'm really sad this semester is probably going to be mostly online because I really feel like I belong in those studios and on that campus and I miss it.

P - What kind of music I like.

already answered, and it mostly boiled down to all over the fuckin place, so this time… band recommendations, here we go. no you have no say in this.

here, have a clump of random favorite bands off the top of my head: mother mother, bad suns, nothing but thieves, hozier, shearwater, the neighbourhood, steam powered giraffe, rainbow kitten surprise, the oh hellos, gregory alan isakov, caravan palace, mystery skulls, khai dreams, autoheart, muse, silversun pickups, thousand foot krutch, two door cinema club, twenty one pilots, blue october, jukebox the ghost

Q - What the last party I went to was, and when the next will be.

I'm not a partier at All, but I did have a bunch of friends over for the 4th (okay I say a bunch but it was like four people from our usual less-socially distant circle). I have no idea when the next get-together will be, it's kinda hard to plan those kinds of things lately.

R - For me to tell 10 of my curiosities.

the phrasing of this question is weird but I'm gonna assume it means things I'm curious about? let's go with that.

travel. I haven't ever been out of the country and I'd like to see other parts of the world at least at some point in my life.

tattoos. both getting them and learning to do them, it's a niche branch of art that I'm just fascinated by and I might like to do it as a career if I knew more about it.

same thing with being a florist. I'm really drawn to it as a concept and I'm super curious how it works, but I have no idea what kind of… qualifications and whatnot I'd need for that.

 surfing. I'm surrounded by the lifestyle and now kind of own a surfboard, I just want to know what the appeal is.

this may be a bit tmi, but I'm really curious what it's like to have a dick. I don't suppose I'll strictly ever know, but I still really want to… probably one of the biggest things to clue me in that I'm definitely trans is the literal penis envy ngl. 

I've always kind of had a fascination with the ocean, and I'd love to go like, scuba diving or something someday, to see it up close and personal.

I think everyone has the impulse thought of shaving their head at some point. maybe someday I will I don't quite have the balls to do it now.

I've gone this long in my life and never wielded a sword? a travesty. I don't pretend to have the grace to actually know how to use one, but I've like, never even held a real one and the idea interests me a lot.

this one might be slightly morbid curiosity, but I don't think I've ever been like, properly drunk or high before, like I've been tipsy but I've never been wasted, you know? the idea kind of scares me and I don't think I'm going to go out and remedy it, but it's still there, and even if I know it's not a good idea, I do still wonder what that's like.

same vein, maybe even a little darker, but I've got at least a little morbid curiosity about like, death and real danger. again, not planning to act on it At All, but the thought is still lurking in the back of my mind like what if…? you asked for honesty.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

S - 2 habits.

bit of a new habit, but I have a whole ritual of disinfecting groceries when I bring them home, and then disinfecting the door knobs and counters. I don't know if it'll persist after the pandemic is over, but it's already ingrained in me and I don't feel comfortable if I skip it or do  it differently.

I apologize for things that aren't my fault. it's such an instinct at this point to say "sorry" when I'm uncomfortable or anxious that it doesn't even register anymore, even when people tell me not to be sorry, I'm still gonna say it, sorry.

T - 5 things I love unconditionally.

already answered so here's 5 more

my family. if I haven't got my family I haven't got anything, we've got each others' backs and I won't turn on them for anything

my friends. same deal, I owe so much to my friends, I love them, and that won't change no matter what they decide to do or be.

sleep. I love sleep so much, even if it's just an involuntary nap, though for someone who loves it so much I sure don't get enough of it

spotify. I know it has problems, I know there are probably more streamlined/cheaper music streaming services out there, but at this point, I've sunk too much of my time and energy into this one and I'll never give it up

my ocs. I don't talk about them very much on this platform, but I have them, they're my children, and I love them even if they're assholes and never easy to write/draw. 

U - How many texts I send daily.

already answered, the number varies, and sometimes swings drastically between like, 5 and 35 on any given day.

V - 3 big dreams.

graduate art school. it's gonna be a serious undertaking and probably take several more years and a lot of loans at this point, but I'm still determined to get there someday.

someday I want to write a book. I know I've said that before on a different prompt, but it wouldn't be a list of dreams without including this one that I've held onto since childhood. 

this one's kind of vague, but someday… I want to not be afraid anymore. like I want to finally be in a state of mental/financial security so I can live my life without the fear of what's coming next. 

W - An idol.

it's probably really basic to list a youtuber, but I've still gotta go with Chase Ross. the guy was an inspiration and a major source of information and support for me early-on in my transition, and even watching him now I still want to approach life with the pure positive energy and confidence that he has. 

X - If I’ve done something I regret very much.

yes. a couple things, really… some of which I don't think I'll ever be able to make up for.

Y - If I like my town and why.

my current town? yeah, it's got its problems but it's also beautiful and full of life and art and unique energy and I miss the days before the Corona End Times when I could actually go out and enjoy it.

Z - Ask any question you want.

??? I did not receive any specification for this one, and given that I didn't skip even the duplicate answers and this is ridiculously long, this one I'm gonna SKIP.

[logical--dreamer]

The Dark Kingdom Communications

So i don't normally do this type of thing, but i came up with a Modern Cassarian AU idea and decided to make a fic out of it. I'm not the best writer, but i hope you enjoy it!

The Dark Kingdom Communications: Chapter one

‘No, no, no.’ Cassandra cursed as she frantically clicked her mouse on the Wifi icon, praying that it would finally come up.This was not good, she had to submit the application in by five o’clock or she couldn’t for another few months. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “It will be okay, everything will be okay.” She whispered as she let the breath out. She still had time before the deadline, hours in fact, she didn’t have to feel so anxious.The Wi-fi could come back on at any minute, so she didn’t have to worry. She had the day off so all she had to do was wait. 

Wait. 

She wasn’t a big fan of that word

Normally, she was a really patient person. She was willing to wait in the wings while others took center stage, but the longer she stood in the shadows the more it was expected of her. It felt like her time in the sun had come and passed and she missed it. It felt like someone stole her destiny, but no more. She was done waiting. 

She had to wait to apply to the Police Academy until she had a full college education, but now her father dIdn’t have any excuse for her not to join. Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised that this is what she wanted to do. He was the Captain of the Corona Police Department and from a young age he taught her self-defence, and when she was legal, how to handle firearms. She was confident in her abilities, so why wasn’t he? 

She took another deep breath and got out of her swivel chair. This was just her anxiety acting up. “Everything will be fine.” she repeated to herself as she went to her kitchen counter for some coffee. This was going to be a long day. 

She grabbed her favorite mug and filled it with the hot beverage before leaning on the counter just staring at the computer. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off of the internet. She tapped her finger against the mug in her hands and smiled softly. 

It was a blue ceramic mug from one of those “Paint your own” places. When it first opened, Raps was quite insistent that they go in and make something for each other. Honestly, she felt bad for what she gave her best friend. Unlike Rapunzel, painting wasn’t her strong suit. She traced the detailed owl her friend had painted with a small smile. It’s a wonder why Raps went for a law degree and didn’t pursue art, she was very talented.

Rapunzel! Maybe the ball of sunshine could distract her? She grabbed her phone and went to her contacts to call her. She licked her lips and shifted her feet as she listened to the ringing only to hear the dreaded voicemail. She hung up and sighed. She forgot, Raps was shadowing her father at his law firm today and wouldn’t be available until later that night.

Cass let out a groan and scrolled through her contacts. She felt a pang of loneliness when she realized how small the list was. She stopped at Fitzherbert’s name before letting out a laugh. She wasn’t that desperate. 

She lifted her coffee to her lips and took a small sip as she gazed at the computer again. Maybe it was working again? She walked over, sat her mug and phone next to the laptop, and tried the Wifi button one more time. 

Please, please, please...

Nothing.

Fine. If she was going to waste her day anyways might as well get this thing working. She grabbed her phone and dialed the Dark Kingdom Communications helpline. 

-----

"Ahuh...ahuh...yeah...okay." Varian nodded as he listened to another "Karen" on the other end of the phone complaining about her computer not turning on. This was the fifth time she called that day and it seemed like every solution he suggested didn't work and she was growing aggravated. 

He wasn't the biggest fan of working in customer service. True, he was good at his job and knew what he was talking about, but some of these customers… He worked better in solitude when it was just him, Ruddiger, and his science equipment. 

He genuinely wanted to help people, but he had hoped with one of his inventions, not tech support. 

He took a big sip from his cheap black coffee and rubbed his tired eyes as he listened to the woman on the other side insult him and the company he worked for. 

"Ma'am...ma'am…" he tried but she kept on complaining, "MA'AM!" He called over the phone and that seemed to finally silence her. "Have you checked the plug?" That seemed to offend her as she started in on him again, only to go dead silent. He heard a quiet "oh" on the other side and then a "click" to let him know she hung up. He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. 

Finally 

He closed his eyes, exhausted. It was his own fault for staying up so late, but he had a breakthrough in his invention and he had to test it out! ...which resulted in a total power surge in his building. Thankfully, everyone was asleep and didn't notice him sneak down to the basement of the building to fix the fuse box. 

He sat forward and rolled his chair closer to his computer. Fortunately, it was a Friday, and every Friday night he liked to take the night off to order a pizza and watch a movie. It was a way to rest before going to his projects again. He would always invite his neighbor to join him, but she was usually too busy to come.

Oh, Cassandra. She was a beautiful, smart, independent woman who's grayish green gaze made him melt into the floor like a melted ice cream cone. He’s tried to impress her and make her notice him, but he doubted she even knew his name. 

He stretched his head around his cubicle to glance at Eugene who was chatting with Lance near the coffee maker. Eugene was the son of the owner of the Dark Kingdom Communications and was the head of marketing. He was the smoothest and most charming man he's ever met and he really admired him. Sometimes he wanted to ask for his help with speaking to Cassandra, but he would always chicken out. Maybe someday he would grow out of being such a coward.

He let out a small groan when he heard a new ringing in his head piece telling him he had another customer waiting for his assistance. He sat back in his chair and pressed the answer button. "Hello…"

--

"...Dark Kingdom Communications, this is V speaking, how can I help you?" Cass heard over the phone and sighed in relief to finally get rid of that obnoxious hold music. 

“Hello, I can’t find the internet” Cass lifted her head from where she set it as she waited for someone to answer.

“Sorry?” V questioned, confusion laced in his voice, causing her to be more irritated than before. 

“The Wi-Fi is down and I can’t for the life of me get it back up.” Cass continued, moving her mouse to keep the screen up. 

“Oh!” the man on the other line exclaimed in understanding, “Sorry, that was just an odd greeting.” he chuckled, trying to keep a friendly atmosphere on the phone.

“Well, one tends to be a bit frazzled when they had to sit through hold music for twenty minutes when they are on a deadline.” she snapped at the man.

V was quiet for a moment, probably trying to find a way to get things back on topic of her call. She was surprised when she heard a soft chuckle on the other end and him voicing his agreement. “It is pretty bad isn’t it?” 

She raised her eyebrow in confusion and nodded slowly even though he couldn’t see her, “Um, yeah….anyways, my internet isn’t working.”

“Right, of course!” V cleared his throat and she heard typing on the other side of the line, “I just need a little information before we begin.”

Cass shifted in her seat, frowning, she didn’t like giving people she didn’t know personal information “What kind of information?” she asked, almost defensively, ready to call whoever was his supervisor for his unprofessionalism. 

“Well….I need your name in order to pull up your file and to access your computer to work on fixing the problem.” V said slowly, almost reassuring. She slowly relaxed at his words. She had nothing to be tense about, it was just the tech guy. Why was she feeling so anxious?

“Right.” she licked her lips as she played with the glove on her left hand, “My name is Cassandra, Cassandra Moon.” 

--

Varian froze in his chair at the name. Cassandra, his neighbor, was on the other line. Beautiful, smart and independent Cassie…

“Hello?” Cassandra questioned him on the other line and that seemed to snap him out of his trance and had him get right to work. 

“Yes, hi, sorry. I found your file right here.” This was his fault, her internet was down because of his machine. Now she is going to hate him and she will never come over for pizza and movie night...not that she has before, but he kept hoping that she would someday. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice going up an octave without his consent. He cleared his throat again, pushing the reading glasses, that he always kept on top of his head, down to the tip of his nose.

“Well, like I said before, the WI-FI won't connect to my computer.” Cassandra repeated, the irritation back in her voice. He felt his heart pick up with nerves, he didn’t mean to make her annoyed with him. 

“How do you connect to the internet? Do you use a Modem, or your smartphone, or a broadband?” He questioned as he started the program to grant him access to her computer to look for any viruses or malware that might be causing problems for her. 

“I use a modem.” She mumbled on the other line. 

“Okay, and is the light for the internet doing anything? Is it on? Off? Flickering?” Varian asked, finally getting into the swing of his job. He could freak out about his crush calling later, right now he had a job to do. No matter what, he was going to fix her wifi. 

-- 

After about an hour of going back and forth of them trying multiple tricks and resetting different things, they finally got her internet connected and running, 

Cass looked at the clock and let out a sigh, she was going to make it. “Thank you so much.” she told V, her heart swelled with gratitude. “You have no idea how thankful I am that you were able to fix this.” 

V’s breath seemed to hitch at her words before they tumbled out quickly, “n-no problem at all! It’s just part of the job!” his voice seemed to raise again and he cleared his throat. “If you enjoyed the experience, please make sure to take the survey to let us know what you thought.” he suggested for maybe the hundredth time that day. 

She smiled as she pulled up her web browser and went to the bookmarked application. “I will….hey, I’m sorry about the way I acted before.”

“It...it’s alright, Cassandra.” He said softly, but she could tell he was smiling. She was happy she was able to make him happy after she was sure he had a rough day full of unreasonable customers. She felt her heart sink, she knew what that was like and she knew she didn’t help with the way she acted earlier. 

She was about to say goodbye, when she heard him ask, “What would you rather have?” 

“Sorry?” she paused in filling out her application, knitting her eyebrows together. 

“For the hold music? What would you rather have?” V asked quickly, taking them back to the beginning of the call once more. 

She tapped her finger on her chin as she thought about it. “Something upbeat, but not that annoying techno whatyoucallit that seems to be popular nowadays.” Cass hummed as she considered the question. 

“Oh, yeah, I agree. Honestly, in school I was a bit of a theater kid, I feel like something like that would be good hold music.” he said, surprising her with her exact same thought process. 

“Yes!” Cass agreed, surprising herself with how enthusiastic her response was. That was a bit uncharacteristic for her especially with someone she just met. Rapunzel was really rubbing off on her. She rubbed her eyes and looked back to her screen. She let her eyes wander over the page to make sure all the information was correct. She smiled in satisfaction, it was ready.

V was silent on his line for a long moment and she thought he hung up before he spoke again, “What about “Oh, What a beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma?” He suggested, she once again could hear typing on the other end. 

Cass raised an eyebrow, “It’s good...but a bit older. Those who are waiting might not like it.” she grabbed her mug again and took a sip. 

She heard V scoff in defense, “It’s a classic! I’ll have you know that I blew the audience away with my version.” 

“I’m sure mommy and daddy were so proud.” she mocked in a playful tone, suppressing a smile in her mug. 

“Uh...well, my dad was.” V mumbled, the vibe suddenly felt very heavy, “or I hope he was...” he added under his breath. 

“Sorry.” Cassandra frowned, things were starting to get too personal for a customer and a tech support guy. She better end it soon. 

“It’s alright.” he said, his tone light and happy, surprising her, “What do you think it should be then, since you seem to know so much about music?” 

She glanced at her application one more time before hitting the submit and letting out a breath. The weight lifted from her shoulders as she slowly relaxed. 

“The Greatest Showman.” she said simply, “The movie was a hit and I doubt anyone would find it irritating to listen to.” 

“Yes, but it would also cause a problem.” V said seriously. 

“And what problem is that?” She asked with a raised eyebrow

“I'll be forced to sing along each time it comes on.” He said, causing her to let out a laugh. 

[killjoy-loveit]

A Little Bit Like Clover

Request: Oh yay! May I please request a Rowoon/Seokwoo Barista!AU? One shot or scenario, Romance/Fluff, female reader, any POV where he falls for a a florist who works in a flower shop right across from his coffee shop. I don't really have a specific plot in mind other than that 😅 thank you! 💕

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took me so long :( I hope that the story lives up to your expectations!! Side note: I wrote this in a style similar to that of one I tried previously for another story, I personally like this style a bit so lmk what y’all think of it :)

Also this was proof-read by the absolutely wonderful 💚💚 @uwunnie​ 💚💚, whom I wish to thank for taking time out of her day to check over it for me!!

Word Count: 3,914

Genre: Fluff, overall v cute imo

May 3rd, 20XX

     The nice old man, Mr. Jones, that owned the bookstore across the street decided to sell. He would always come in on Tuesday of every week to buy flowers for his wife’s grave- Tuesday’s had been their date nights he’d confided in you one day. Sometimes Mr. Jones would choose her favorite flowers, other times he’d tell you to make a pretty bouquet. You were sad to see him leave, but you knew it was inevitable. It was difficult for him to run the store on his own, especially with him going on in years. Now you just wondered who would become your new neighbor. Would they be nice? Would they change from a bookstore? The possibilities were numerous.

June 1st, 20XX

     After almost a month the bookstore was successfully purchased. Still, you were unsure of who owned the space. You’d yet to see one individual frequenting the establishment, though it would be hard to pick them out anyways. There was always a gaggle of people moving about the old storefront nowadays, pulling out all of the old furniture and books. Clearly it wasn’t going to be a bookstore anymore. That small discovery made you a bit sad. You would miss going over there on your days off and finding new books to delve into.

July 15th, 20XX

     Finally you met the new owner of the store across the street. He’d come in right as you were finishing up a bright bouquet that would be one of the samples for a party planner you worked with. You’d glanced up as the bell had rung, the typical customer service smile coming to your face. As he stepped up to the counter, you wiped your hands on the apron tied about your waist. 

     “Hi, welcome to Oopsy Daisy. How can I help you?” Your voice automatically switching into the chipper, vibrant tone you used to interact with customers. It must’ve shocked him, you thought, as you noticed his eyes widen a tad.

     Nevertheless he smiled politely at you and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Rowoon, I bought the store across the street from you.”

     Surprised, you reached out your hand to shake his, mouth parted slightly. “Oh, wow. I was wondering who’d bought it- now I know.” You laughed lightly, then proceeded to introduce yourself.

     “Well, I just wanted to come over and introduce myself. I’m not sure if you know, I changed the layout into that of a coffee shop, so if you ever decide to come check it out the first cup of coffee’s on the house!” 

     “I’ll make sure to stop by soon!”

July 16th, 20XX

     You were up earlier than usual as orders had piled up, what with it being the midst of wedding season. Oopsy Daisy wouldn’t open to the general public for a few hours still, which would leave you plenty of time to make decent headway on the orders. But you would make no progress without having a cup of coffee first. And what better time to try out the new coffee place across the street than right now? 

     Despite the early hour, right about the time typical business people would be floundering for their first cup of coffee, the shop seemed relatively empty. Two or three customers were placed throughout the shop, two at separate tables sipping on their coffee and looking at laptops, the other sitting in a comfortable chair with a book in hand and a coffee set on a table beside them. The store didn’t seem to change too much, despite the switch to becoming a coffee shop. Bookshelves lined the small brick wall that separated the coffee counter from the seating area. Small tables and comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the area, giving it a cozy feel.

     Walking up to the counter, you saw Rowoon standing behind it- pretty relaxed, a book in his hand. A mix of to-go cups and porcelain mugs caught your eye as you got closer, each one had the store name and logo printed on. The logo being a heart made of coffee beans around the shop’s name, which is succinctly called ‘Kinda In Love With Brew’. That made you smile.

     “Your store’s name is cute.” You said after reaching the counter, pulling his focus away from the book in his hands.

     “Oh, hey! I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again.” Rowoon grinned. “And thanks, I came up with it myself.”

     “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Shifting on your feet, you fiddle with the zipper on your bag.

     He just laughs, shaking his head. “A lot of people say that. Do I not seem like I could come up with a cute romantic name for my store?”

     “No, it just seemed like a mild romantic sort of name and I guess I didn’t see you as that type. Clearly I was wrong and shouldn’t set out to find a job in profiling.” You joke lightly.

     Rowoon sets his book down, leaning his forearms against the counter. “Now that we’ve adequately discussed my shop’s name, should we talk about yours? Or save that for another time?”

     “Another time perhaps, I’m on a bit of a time crunch.” 

     With that said, you quickly order a drink of Rowoon’s recommendation. And once the drink is in hand, you make your way back across the street. 

October 28th, 20XX

     It’s been a couple of months since Rowoon opened ‘Kinda In Love With Brew’, and you’d met on many occasions. It had become a habit to pop across the street for a coffee when you knew you would be slammed with orders. And he’d taken to coming over and chatting whenever business was slow, leaving his store under the watch of one of his employees. Normally people got on your nerves, which is why you ran your store all by your lonesome- not one employee to help you out. But somehow Rowoon didn’t. You weren’t sure if he had some charm to him that made it harder to be annoyed by him, or if your personalities just meshed well together.

     Either way it didn’t matter, you were well into becoming friends. Which is why it almost didn’t surprise you when he knocked on the door to your shop well past closing. After letting him in, you’d questioned his arrival.

     “Well,” He replied, taking a deep breath. “I saw the light in your store still on and I wondered why you were still working. It’s almost one in the morning.”

     Glancing over at the clock on the wall to confirm his words, your jaw dropped slightly. “I didn’t even realize… I just got carried away, I guess.”

     Rowoon raised an eyebrow at you. “Carried away or frantically trying to finish an order before the pickup time?”

     You smiled sheepishly at him. “Maybe it was more frantic than being carried away.”

     “I just don’t understand why you refuse to hire some help around here.” He sighs, looking intently at you. “You’re practically running on fumes at this point. If you keep this up then you’ll have to start turning away customers.”

     “I get annoyed by people easily, especially if I have to explain things multiple times. It just wouldn’t work if I tried to hire someone to help me. The cons would outweigh the benefits.” You mutter, picking at your apron awkwardly.

     “I don’t think they would if you found the right person.” Rowoon chided. “But right now what you need is sleep. Go home, get a good rest and finish the order later.”

     You shook your head quickly. “I can’t. They’re picking up the bouquets at nine and I haven’t even finished half of them yet.”

     “Let me help you then.”

     At first you’d been hesitant to let him assist in the bouquet making, but he’d actually done a good job. It turns out that he catches on rather quickly, so after observing you make two arrangements he was able to start making them on his own. It was nice having someone next to you, working in harmony, conversation flowing naturally. This wasn’t something you’d experienced before, and you found that you enjoyed it. Not to mention you actually finished a lot faster than you would have on your own. Hours faster. Once all of the arrangements were finished though, before Rowoon could leave, you promised to repay the favor or at the very least treat him to a meal when he was free. 

November 14th, 20XX

     It was about five o’clock in the evening when Rowoon rushed into your store, completely frazzled and unkempt. Luckily there was no one inside your shop at the moment, though this was because you were technically closed to the public. The asters you were holding falling to the counter in shock. Never had you seen him appear in such a state, he was typically calm albeit a little goofy. Yet here he was, standing before you, out of breath, with panic written all over his features. 

     “What’s wrong?” You moved out from behind the counter to where he stood at the entrance, hand smoothing down his back in an attempt to calm him down.

     Rowoon gulped in a deep breath. “There’s- there’s a lady in the store, and we already called the ambulance, but I don’t know what to do! How am I supposed to help her? I can’t-.”

     You cut him off, worry seeping into your veins and activating your brain. “What happened for you to call the ambulance? Was she injured? Did she slip and fall? Is she bleeding?”

     At each of your questions after the first he shook his head quickly. “She went into labor!”

     Eyes wide, you stared at him, mouth agape. “And you just left her there? What’s wrong with you?” You smacked his shoulder lightly before rushing out of your store to his.

     Sure enough, once you got inside you saw an obviously pregnant woman, sitting on a chair breathing heavily. A man was standing beside her, appearing very panicked, holding a phone talking to a person you believed to be an emergency operator. Only a few other people, all coincidentally men, were in the store, but each one of them appeared nervous and anxious on behalf of the lady who had just gone into labor. All of this energy couldn’t be good for her. The lady in question, looked scared, and all of the people around her weren’t calm either- which was helping nothing.

     Hearing the door close behind you, you determined that Rowoon had followed you. “Go get wet a cloth with cool water, wring it out and bring it to me.” You stated without looking at him, but he quickly followed your orders and moved past you.

     Without hesitation you raised your voice to address the people in the coffee shop. “Everyone who is not with the woman in labor, please leave! I understand that you came here for a coffee fix, but right now might not be the best time.” 

     As the other customers departed, you were left alone in the store with three other people: Rowoon, the lady in labor, and the guy standing next to her. As you approached, her gaze was flickered between you and the guy next to her.

     “Hey,” Voice calm, you pulled a chair up beside her and sat down. “What’s your name?”

     “V-Vee.” She hissed out, teeth gritting in pain.

     You worked on keeping your voice as calm and soothing as possible as you conversed with her, trying to help ease some of the nerves. Rowoon had appeared with the cloth in the midst of your conversation, which you’d handed to the guy standing next to her, telling him to help keep her cool. Overhearing the emergency operator state that the ambulance was still a little far out, Vee became panicked. She was blubbering about how she didn’t want to have her baby in a coffee shop, she wanted to have it in the hospital after getting an epidural, how she wasn’t ready yet. 

     “Breathe,” You reminded her, while you tried to come up with some words that might help. “The ambulance is coming, and soon enough you’ll be able to get to the hospital.” You locked eyes with her. “You can do this. Just think, in a matter of hours you’ll be holding your little one. Isn’t that amazing?”

     She nodded slowly, muttering under her breath. “I can do this.”

     It wasn’t long after this that the ambulance arrived, sweeping her and the man with her away. Which just left you and Rowoon in the store. Of the two, you were clearly the one with the level-head currently, as it appeared that he was mentally checked out at the moment. After guiding him to a seat and getting him a glass of water, you flipped the sign on his door to say ‘closed’. Then you began cleaning up spilled drinks, most likely occurring from witnessing a woman go into labor. Cleaning the spilled drinks didn’t take too long, thus you continue cleaning the rest of the store as you’d seen Rowoon do many a time through the wide windows of his cafe.

     Even after you finished cleaning, Rowoon still seemed to be in a state of shock at what had just happened. So, you did the only thing you could think of- you took his store keys from him, shut off all the lights, dragged him outside and locked up. 

     “Come on,” You murmured, hand wrapped around his wrist. “I’m going to make you a cup of chamomile tea.”

     Making your way across the street, you led him into your store, which you locked after entering, and up the stairs in the back to your apartment. Minutes later Rowoon was sitting on your couch, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. You were starting to get a little worried, as he’d yet to say a single word. 

     Sitting down beside him, you looked at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

     He turned to look at you, the glaze that had previously taken over his eyes dissipating. “I think so,” Rowoon breathed out softly, taking a sip of tea. “I wasn’t expecting anything like that to happen in my store.” 

     Laughing quietly, you patted his arm. “I don’t think most people expect a woman to go into labor in their place of work, unless you’re at a hospital that is.”

     Cracking a joke, it seems, was the right move. Rowoon was able to relax a bit more as your conversation went on. Stories were exchanged of the wildest things to happen in your stores, though you were pretty sure he won, what with what happened tonight. He expressed how amazed he was at your ability to keep calm in such a situation, praising how you’d even helped to calm the soon-to-be mother. That night, Rowoon stayed over- the two of you falling asleep on the couch with a worn-out blanket covering your legs, an old rerun playing in the background, his mug of tea sitting empty on the coffee table.

December 22nd, 20XX

     Snow gently floated to the ground, setting the perfect atmosphere for the holidays. Normally it didn’t snow in this area until January, so it was exciting to see it appear before the new year. However, the snow did nothing to calm your nerves as you built the courage to go to the holiday party currently taking place in Rowoon’s cafe. Through the window you could see the crowd of people smiling and laughing, even managing to hear snippets of the music playing inside each time a new person went inside. 

     Wringing your hands, you finally resolved to pull yourself together and walk across the street. It couldn’t be that hard to step into a building you’d been in numerous times before, could it? Rowoon had invited you, said he was looking forward to seeing you there- you couldn’t just not go. With a particularly deep breath as your fuel, you stepped out of your store and quickly crossed the street after checking the road was clear. You hadn’t been in front of the door to the cafe for more than a second before it was opened by Rowoon himself, a bright smile on his face as he pulled you inside.

     “I’m so glad you came!” His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Do you want some cider? Or hot chocolate? I also have eggnog, a few different wines and ales, or water, if you prefer.”

     “So many options,” At your words, a dusting of color rose to Rowoon’s cheeks. “But I’ll have to go with the first one, cider.”

     His hand remained wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the party, weaving around multiple groups of people, smiling and greeting them as he went. Rowoon only letting go of you to pour a cup of warm cider, which he handed to you with a grin. Shortly after, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, observing the party-goers together. That is until someone came up, pulling Rowoon away for some reason you couldn’t quite catch. Rowoon had seemed reluctant to go, glancing back at you as he was led somewhere else.

     As you didn’t really know any of the people at this party, you kept your place beside the refreshment table. Time passed by rather slowly as you watched everyone socialize, Rowoon having disappeared somewhere among them. Despite his tall stature you couldn’t manage to pick him out in the crowd. Heaving a sigh, you continued to sip at your drink, wondering how long you should stay. With the amount of people in the cafe, if no one stayed around to help Rowoon clean up, he’d probably be here hours afterward. Since he’d helped you on multiple occasions before, the desire was there to help him in return.

     Although maybe it wasn’t just that you wanted to help him. Rather, maybe you just wanted to be alone with him. Your mind flitted back to the week prior, when Rowoon had invited you to the party. 

     He’d walked into your store, head bent slightly, teeth denting his lower lip, and almost walked right into a display of primrose and snowdrops. If you hadn’t moved fast enough he would have bulldozed right into that display, one that had taken you a bit of time to get just right. You had run right over to him, grabbing his wrist and jerking him away at the last second. Rowoon had looked up then, shocked as he stumbled and had to keep himself from toppling over.

     “I’m sorry,” You’d apologized breathlessly. “I just spent so long on that display and you were about to walk right into it.”

     Rowoon glanced back at where he’d just been, eyes widening a fraction. “No, I’m sorry I should’ve been paying attention. I was too lost in my thoughts.” He offered a sheepish smile.

     Eyebrows raised, you cocked your head to the side. “What were you thinking about so deeply you forgot to pay attention to your surroundings?”

     “Oh, I was thinking…” He paused for a minute, eyes flickering to the ceiling. “Of the holiday party I’m having next week. Would you be able to come?”

     At first you’d been a bit hesitant, mainly because you were aware there’d most likely be a lot of people you didn’t know at the party. But Rowoon had managed to convince you to come. Besides, it was much too difficult to say no when he looked at you with hopeful eyes. 

     Hours passed by- hours you didn’t note because at one point you’d left the safety of the refreshment table to find Rowoon. Instead of finding him, though, you’d managed to find an old book of poetry half-hidden on a bookshelf. This book had kept you entranced as the party continued and as it eventually wound down. 

     “Enjoying yourself?” 

     You glanced up from the book to see Rowoon standing next to you, and the rest of the cafe empty. “Is the party over?” 

     He nodded, a tired smile overtaking his face as he sat next to you. “Yeah. Sorry I left you alone the whole time you were here. I kept trying to come and find you, but I kept getting pulled about by other people. Being a party host is exhausting.” Rowoon finished with a sigh, elbows coming up to rest on the table as he set his head in his hands.

     “It’s fine,” You murmured, setting the book down on the table. “I managed to keep myself occupied.” Silence permeated the air between you for a minute before you stood up. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

     “What? Oh no, you don’t need to help clean up.”

     “But nobody else stayed behind to help. You shouldn’t have to clean this all by yourself, look at the mess!” You gestured at his cafe, which had empty paper cups and plates strewn about and streamers hanging loosely on the walls. 

     He stood up, taking in the state of his cafe, lips pursed. “You’re right, it will be hard to clean on my own.”

     You waggled your eyebrows at him. “Of course I’m right! Now come on, let’s get to cleaning.”

     Before you could walk away to find a dustpan and broom Rowoon’s hand grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait, I… I need to tell you something first.”

     Turning back to face him, head tilted, eyes focused on him. “What is it?”

     He blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing a few times before he blurted out a sentence so jumbled you couldn’t properly understand him. You had to ask him to repeat himself, which he did, but he was so quiet you couldn’t hear him. 

     Finally, after you couldn’t take the anxiousness anymore, you propped your hand on your hip. “Rowoon, please, will you just say whatever it is? It can’t be that difficult to say.”

     “I’m so happy that I bought this place, and that I was able to meet you because of it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship if you don’t feel the same way as I do, but I need to tell you that I don’t want to be friends with you- I want to be more than that.”

     You watched as he bit his lip, his eyes flitted nervously around the room as he awaited your response. “You want to be more than friends?” He nodded swiftly. “Are you saying you have feelings for me?” He nodded once more. A smile broke out onto your face, one that he hadn’t caught yet because he was avoiding looking at you. “Hmm, well, I guess we can’t be friends anymore.”

     Rowoon’s eyes jerked to you, going wide, mouth parted slightly. “Huh?”

     You stared at him innocently. “Does this automatically mean we’re a couple, or do we need to go on a date first?”

     He sighed, relieved. “You really drew that out.”

     Most people tended to grate your nerves. Most people made you want to whack your head against a door repeatedly. Most people were capable of making you wish for a solitary life. Most people felt like weeds, popping up at the most inconvenient of times. However, Rowoon wasn’t like most people. If he were compared to a weed, he wouldn’t be the kind that covers any and everything like Kudzu, rather he’d be the kind that helps a garden thrive, like Clover. In this way, it’s safe to say that he grew on you unexpectedly.