#love is stored in the olive jar

[elvenbeard]

Vulnerabilities

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: V and Kerry blow off some steam before they have to return to the Med Center, where Dr. Fuentes will hopefully introduce them to her plan on how to safe V's life. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 16/?, 9582 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, in this chapter: NSFW, pegging, kinky sex - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

“I’ve been a very bad boy,” Kerry breathed against his ear. V hesitated briefly, but then pushed him away and onto the bed. Kerry laughed shakily when he landed on his back with a thud. V looked down on him, as he had his arms spread out, hair still perfectly styled, but cheeks slightly flushed as he bit his lip. He climbed onto the bed as well, settling between Kerry’s legs. Kerry pressed his thighs against V’s sides with a cocky grin.

V hummed, supporting himself with his right hand on the mattress, his left thumb brushing across Kerry’s lips. He lingered momentarily, then pulled back to slap his cheek. Not too harshly, leaving just a hint of tingling, and Kerry shivered under him.

“You were,” V teased back, voice low, while Kerry still smiled, “But you’ve been worse.”

Kerry huffed.

“Kidnapped my manager… Right now planning to screw the label over… Kissed ya in public at a big party…” he recounted the last few days, fingers busy unbuttoning V’s shirt.

“Nothing was set on fire yet,” V said and leaned forward, letting his tongue and teeth wander along the edge of Kerry’s voicebox implant, black and golden chrome framing warm skin. A raspy, frustrated groan came in response.

“Sent ya nudes while y’were in an important meeting,” Kerry sighed, “That’s gotta count for somethin’…”

V chuckled, taking in the sharp yet pleasant scent of Kerry’s aftershave as he sucked a hickey into his flesh, right below his jawline. Kerry squeezed his legs around him tighter, pulled V against his groin to make sure he knew how aroused he was.

Both were still more-or-less fully dressed, had only just gotten back home. Kerry had come directly from the video shoot for Shivers all day, while meetings and planning sessions for the Sutter gig had occupied V’s agenda. They were tense and weary, it was late, but sometimes that was just the right time to blow off some steam before falling asleep.

“Beg for it,” V whispered against Kerry’s neck, then he slowly sat up again and leaned back, hands on Kerry’s chest holding him down. Kerry gently trailed his fingers along V’s arms. He tried to reach his sides, but V leaned away and let one hand wander to Kerry’s throat. Kerry quivered, eyes hooded and his breathing quickened, and he lifted his head to bare his neck to V’s grasp even more. He swallowed, chrome and flesh moving beneath V’s own cyberware-covered palm.

“Fuck me, please” his voice was hoarse, longing, and his dick twitched noticeably between them.

V smiled and inched closer, not evading Kerry’s fingers this time as they pulled on his shirt, tried to undo his belt.

“How?” he breathed more than he asked, grip around Kerry’s throat tightening.

“Mhhh… hard and fast,” Kerry gasped, “’til all I can do is scream your name.”

“How ‘bout ‘til all you can do is whimper, incoherently?” V suggested, and Kerry’s hips buckled, but V continued to hold him down.

“Fuck… Yes, please,” he grunted, his pulse fast against V’s fingertips, their eyes interlocked.

V slowly let go again and Kerry let out a shaky breath. Then he caressed Kerry’s thighs.

“’Cause you asked so nicely,” he said, and Kerry scoffed at first, but his smile returned when V continued, “I’ll let ya pick tonight…”

“The purple one,” he said without a pause, and V reached back to slap his thigh – with a little more fervor than his cheek, making Kerry wince first but then chuckle lowly.

“Eager… let’s see for how long.”

Kerry grinned, challenging now, but he then slowly unwrapped his legs from V’s hips and quickly undid his own belt.

Kerry was already naked, had simply tossed his clothes wherever, when V joined him on the bed again. He had fetched the ribbed, purple strap-on Kerry had asked for and undressed himself as well.

“Help me out?” V half asked, half ordered and held out the harness, kneeling tall in front of Kerry on their silk bedsheets. Kerry sat up instantly. Skilled and swiftly he wrapped the purple leather straps around V’s hips and thighs, pulling taut and closing the clasps with care. All the while he barely broke eye contact with V who watched from above, goosebumps rising wherever Kerry touched or as much as breathed against him.

“Like this?” Kerry asked, pulling V against himself on the harness, the material pleasantly pressing into his flesh at the swift tug.

V didn’t respond, instead closed the remaining distance between them and hungrily kissed Kerry. Hands wrapped around the base of his head and neck he did not let go until they were both thoroughly out of breath. Kerry licked his swollen lips, bright blue Kiroshis still latched onto V.

Holding eye contact Kerry leaned down and took the strap-on in his mouth. V was caught off guard by his own moan, dripping from his tongue at the mere sight of Kerry going down on him like this, even if there was basically no physical sensation tied to it. Kerry still held on to the harness, pulling V closer as his head bobbed back and forth in a steady rhythm. V put his left hand on Kerry’s, with his other he grabbed his hair, guided his head and his pace. Now Kerry’s eyes were closed, gorgeous with his long dark lashes, brow slightly furrowed and so focused as he took in more and more of the length, heat rising in V’s abdomen as he was mesmerized by the wet sucking noises, their motion, their breathing.

Kerry slowed his pace, taking deeper strokes, his breath shakier, but he inched closer and closer until he had swallowed the whole length, and his nose touched V’s belly. He stayed like this for a few seconds, cheeks and shoulders flushed dark. V let go of his hair, let his fingers trail along his jaw, his throat, gently caressing the bulge the strap-on formed there, and Kerry shivered. A wave of dizziness hit V.

“Good boy,” he shuddered, voice hoarse with desire, and that was Kerry’s cue. He jolted back, gasping and coughing, a thin strand of glistening saliva briefly hanging between his lips and the tip of the dildo.

“Fuck,” was all V could utter, his clit throbbing as Kerry let himself fall back on the bed again, legs spread wide.

“V… please… I need you so bad…” he sighed and swallowed, still out of breath.

V didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed the already open bottle of lube from beside Kerry, generously slathered the strap-on while simultaneously getting them both in position. Kerry had his hands against V’s chest, his waist, his legs, everywhere he could reach, touching and scratching and trying to pull him closer, against him, into him. V knew Kerry meant it when he said “hard and fast”. But still, at least for getting started, he wanted to be gentle. With fingers still slippery with lube he gave Kerry’s semi-hard dick a few good strokes, making his back arch and voice crack as he gasped with pleasure. He lingered a little longer, thumb circling the wet tip, the sensitive spot just beneath, Kerry winding and his toes curling.

“Fuck, you’re a horrible tease today,” he gasped, looking up at V with cheeks and chest glistening.

V gave him another firm slap on his now bare thigh, not letting go of Kerry’s dick. Kerry didn’t hold back his moans, and V began to push the strap against his hole. Kerry’s eyes rolled back as V slipped in with ease, and Kerry groaned long and deeply at the stretch, fingernails digging into V’s sides.

“Fuuuuuck…”

V slid in further, slowly first, gently hooking Kerry’s legs around his waist again, caressing, kissing his neck, his chest, keeping an eye on him for any sign of discomfort. Kerry smiled and nodded clinging onto V tightly. So he sped up the pace.

Skin slapped against skin, fast and steady, accompanied by both their labored breathing. V ran his thumbs along the two symmetrical silver lines decorating Kerry’s stomach, trailing from his dick bouncing back and forth from his thrusts, all the way to his pecs. V’s eyes wandered across the golden plate on Kerry’s sternum, the beautiful, bold tattoo on his chest, to his gorgeous face gleaming with sweat. Kerry clung to the pillow with one hand, eyes darting back and forth, catching V’s gaze, then wandering back to his body, to the space between them, then he closed them again to focus on all the other sensations lingering in the air.

“Just like that, aaahhh,” he gasped, his hand reaching for V’s chest, squeezing his pec, grazing his nipple, and V grinned and shuddered, clutched Kerry’s hips, nails digging into soft skin. Kerry’s voice and unsteady breathing announced that he was getting close. Whenever he fucked Kerry like this, V noticed a little lilt in his moans, barely noticeable but always there. Maybe it was the vulnerability, the difference in sensation and pleasure received, giving himself to V like this… or all or neither. But V was obsessed, spurred on even more every time he managed to lure these sweet, quiet, higher notes out of Kerry’s throat. Only there for him to hear, only his doing, sending his own pleasure into overdrive.

“Fuck, V, I’ll… I’m so close,” he could barely speak between gasps and thrusts.

“Still so wordy,” V panted, his own hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck, the friction of the harness and the view of Kerry beneath him like this doing their part in giving him his own satisfaction. Kerry’s hand wandered across his own stomach now, reaching for his dick, but V quickly grabbed his wrist and pinned it down above Kerry’s head. Any words of protest he may have had were scrambled in his mouth when V grabbed Kerry cock firmly, not once slowing down his thrusting.

Kerry threw his head back and cursed, but then his voice cracked as he came, spilling all over his stomach and chest, breath stuttering. His cock throbbed between V’s fingers, hole clenched around the strap-on, and his voice and expression completely undone undid V as well. He gasped and cold and hot sweat dripped down his spine as he came to completion against Kerry. He could barely hold himself upright anymore, slowly loosening his grip from Kerry’s dick and wrist. Kerry’s thighs were shaking against V’s sides, he squirmed, back arched against V’s body, a hot sticky mess between them – but his hands immediately grabbed onto V’s waist, giving him support he needed. V’s head was spinning and his heart racing, painfully almost he now noticed. Kerry had his eyes closed, was breathing heavily, then sighed happily when V leaned down to kiss his cheek, caress his sides, his legs, his neck, wherever he had previously slapped or bitten or otherwise been rough with him. Kerry lazily reached up to stroke V’s hair, opening his eyes to examine his face, then pulled him down into a proper kiss. V let it happen, let his tired aching body sink into the soft and warm embrace, and they both just lingered like this for a while.

“That was really fuckin’ good,” Kerry eventually whispered.

“Or really good fuckin’?” V instantly retorted and they both laughed.

“You’re a gonk,” Kerry sighed, and his eyes fell shut again. V kissed his cheek, then slowly got up and carefully slipped out of Kerry, eliciting another shiver and happy little groan from him. He sat up and undid the harness with still shaky fingers, watching Kerry. His breathing slowly steadied again.

“Be right back,” V gave Kerry’s thigh a quick squeeze and Kerry, face glowing from exertion and satisfaction, just hummed blissfully.

As V got up from the bed he was once more surprised by a short onset of dizziness. He tried to attribute it to the exhaustion and rush of hormones and walked into the bathroom slowly, very aware of each of his steps. But when he plunged the strap-on into the sink and grabbed a towel to dampen with warm water, the mirror turned on, startling V with his own reflection. A thin line of blood had just begun running from his nose. It dripped onto his chest and the black marble floor.

“Fuck…”

He quickly wiped it away, washed it off, down the drain with any thoughts or fears. It wasn’t a strong or intense nosebleed thankfully, not as bad as it had been before…

“Sure, try sugarcoating dying, see how that goes for ya.”

The mirror turned off again, out of sight out of mind. V took a deep breath, hoping that it would not get worse... But also, he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to lie down and cuddle and talk about normal things for once, not the impending doom looming on the other side of the night.

He returned to the bedroom with a smile, Kerry none the wiser still on the bed, melted into the mattress. V gently placed the warm towel on his chest, startling him into opening his eyes. Then V joined him again, cozied up to his side as Kerry cursory wiped himself down before tossing the towel to the floor. He sighed and rolled to his side to face V, scooting closer and wrapping him into a loose hug.

“Did I ever tell ya I love it when you’re all dominant like that?” he asked.

“Yeah, you did,” V chuckled.

“Good. ‘Cause it’s hot as fuck.”

“Wasn’t too rough?”

Kerry smiled, eyes glistening in the golden glow of the indirect lighting surrounding their bed. He brushed his thumb across V’s mouth, lingering at the piercing in his bottom lip for a moment. Then he gave him another quick kiss, but didn’t withdraw, stayed and held him close.

“I don’t break so easily,” he said quietly, his beard and lips brushing against V’s skin as he spoke.

“Promise?” V asked quietly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, ignoring the budding headache and tightness in his chest that had accompanied him all day already. Instead, he kept his tone playful and light-hearted.

“Promise,” Kerry nodded.

He fell asleep soon after, still clinging to V and quietly snoring. V barely slept all night, and the morning rolled around mercilessly fast. Right when V had finally drifted off, couldn’t have been more than an hour, their alarm jolted him straight awake again. Kerry groaned into the pillow, mumbling something like “just 10 more minutes”. V slowly sat up, pressed a kiss against the cherry blossoms tattooed onto Kerry’s shoulder blade, fingers trailing down his spine.

“Could a hot shower coerce you?”

Kerry sighed, shifted to look up at V, squinting, hair all messy and voice rough with sleep.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely. No ulterior motives.”

V chuckled and they both sleepily trudged into the bathroom.

“V, you in there somewhere?” Kerry asked when he sat a steaming hot mug of coffee down in front of him. A slightly crooked chocolate syrup smiley face was drizzled onto the milk foam. V had to blink a couple of times, hadn’t even noticed how long he’d been staring into the void while Kerry made breakfast for them.

“Yeah, no. Sorry, I was…” V mumbled, cold fingers clinging to the warm mug. He wasn’t sure what to say next, Kerry looking at him expectantly from across the kitchen counter. He tried to smile, but a little twitch at the corner of his mouth told V that he struggled. When V continued to stay silent, Kerry frowned, more worried than annoyed, walked over, and sat down next to him with his own coffee.

“Sorry, what did you say?” V asked, trying to keep his thoughts in the present.

“Nothin’ important,” Kerry shook his head, “Just wondering. Worrying, y’know, the usual.”

V looked down onto his mug, but there were no words in his vocabulary to describe what he was thinking or feeling.

“Think it’s gonna be that bad? What she’s gotta say, after a week of pokin’ and proddin’ ya?” Kerry then pointed out the elephant in the room. V shrugged.

“Dunno,” he just said, “Tryin’ not to expect anything anymore. Or hope, or wish, I guess.”

Kerry looked at him for a long time. Then he slowly shifted, took a sip of his own, black coffee, and put his hand on V’s thigh.

“Well, guess I’ll have to hold out hope for both of us then. Try ‘n stop me.”

His voice was quiet and calm, not as if he was trying to make a joke.

“I know I couldn’t stop you from anything you set out to do. Even if I wanted to,” he said and tried his best to smile. Kerry still frowned, but his tense posture softened. Then he leaned over to give V a quick, coffee-flavored kiss before returning to finish cooking breakfast. V watched him stir around in the pan for a couple more minutes, neither of them said anything. The tension was tangible, and V hated it.

When he was done, Kerry plated an omelet for each of them and returned to V’s side.

“Thanks. Looks preem.”

“Lemme come with ya,” Kerry then just blurted out and V slowly turned his head.

“I know you said you don’t want me to,” Kerry added, poking around in his eggs as if the answer to all their problems was hiding somewhere in them, “Case it’s bad ‘n whatnot.”

“That’s not why,” V shook his head, “Last time, Dr. Williams. You had so much hope. And during the final appointment she shattered it all.”

Kerry put down his fork and turned to face V, almost annoyedly placing his hand on his thigh, a little physical protest without actually having to get up. He held his head low, looked up at V, the rising sun making his bright eyes particularly piercing.

“Yeah, fine, it sucked,” he said shrugging, “But even if Fuentes also only has bad news… No, I refuse. I’d rather just have my hopes shattered again ‘stead of not hopin’ for anythin’ anymore, alright?”

V looked down on his hands still holding the mug. The chocolate smiley-face had meanwhile melted into the foam, slowly disintegrating.

“It’s not that,” he said quietly, insisting, but also struggling to find the right words still. His head was throbbing, thoughts circling and drifting away before he could seize them. As if his brain was leaking. He quickly cast away the horrible mental images cropping up.

“Look at me, dammit,” Kerry said quietly, and gently turned his head with two fingers against his chin, “Listen… Whatever she’s gotta say, I don’t want you to be going through that alone. Yeah, okay, maybe it’s gonna suck and maybe it’ll ruin the little trust I have left in doctors forever, but – …”

“Kerry, it’s not that I think you can’t handle it,” V said, voice shaky, and Kerry slightly withdrew.

“I’m scared that I can’t handle it. Both the news and you having to deal with this all again, that it’s gonna break me for good,” he said and looked away.

Heavy silence again, but a different kind this time. One that was almost worse than the unarticulated, lingering tension, all-encompassing, drowning, no escaping its darkness. But then Kerry managed what he’d said only V had been able to do for him so far: he reached out and drove the shadows away.

“You fuckin’ gonk,” he said firmly, cupping V’s face and making him look back at him. His eyes were still sad and shoulders tense, but there had been a shift in his aura that soothed V’s own anxiety.

“I’ve picked ya up out of puddles of blood more often than I’d like to. I held ya when we were both fuckin’ sobbing about how unfair this whole shitshow is. Yeah, maybe the news is gonna be bad. But fuck, even if it shatters you into a thousand pieces… I’ll be there and pick you up again and hold you, and put you back together. Cause I love ya, and I’ll be there for you. ‘til the end if need be. That clear?”

V couldn’t bring himself to say something, but he reached up to touch Kerry’s hand, took it into his own, held it tightly in his lap. Then he nodded.

“Okay.”

“’n if the news is fucked…” Kerry then added, very quietly, carefully almost, “So soul-crushing and bleak and hopeless… then fuck the whole Crystal Palace crap, fuck Night City really… and I’ll book us a flight to the Philippines the minute you say so, alright?”

V shuddered, lowered his head. And then he nodded once more. He didn’t dare look Kerry in the eyes, not after his reaction the other day when he had first brought up wanting to die on the Philippines if all else failed. Forever tainting that place for him, that he loved so dearly, but a place V had hoped so much to at least still be able to see with him, even if only once, and even if only for a brief time.

After a few moments Kerry scooched closer with his chair, close enough so he could put his arms around V, who let himself be guided into the embrace. Slumping against Kerry’s chest he closed his tired eyes, and they just sat in silent understanding, V wishing the moment could last forever.

About an hour later V had no recollection of how they’d even gotten to the Med Center, only that Kerry had insisted on driving them. V had been so out of it the whole morning, he didn’t belong behind a steering wheel yet. The path to Fuentes’ office was ingrained into his muscle memory though, even when all the hallways still felt like an endless, sterile white maze. Kerry followed him closely, sunglasses on and a little more casually dressed than usual in a hoodie, dark jeans, and a jacket borrowed from V. He did not want another artificial drama or speculation video online so soon after the most recent one had finally subsided in popularity.

“Got an appointment,” V said to the receptionist in the neurology wing that already knew him by now, and then they arrived at Fuentes’ office so much faster than what V was ready for. He knocked politely, and Kerry decided to keep his sunglasses on.

“I gotcha,” he whispered, briefly tugging at V’s pinky finger with his own, then Fuentes called from within to come inside.

As usual, Fuentes sat behind her desk, seemingly in the middle of writing a protocol, but looked up as they entered.

“Mr. Eurodyne!” she said with surprise before even greeting V.

“Hope I’m welcome,” he said, and despite trying to act laid back, Kerry’s voice was tense.

Fuentes got up as they approached and reached across her desk to shake their hands, first V’s, then Kerry’s.

“Of course,” Fuentes said, “I had suggested that V should involve you in this meeting. I’m glad you were able to make it after all.”

Kerry turned to look at V, just the hint of a frown visible behind his glasses, while V very adamantly avoided his gaze.

“Anythin’ for him,” Kerry said, while his undertone said, “I’m mad, but at the same time, not surprised”.

“Please, sit down,” Fuentes gestured at the two visitor chairs and sat back down in her own, pulling up all sorts of data on the screen in front of her. V recognized his scans and data, but there was a lot more there today.

Fuentes adjusted her slightly unruly ponytail and brushed a grey-brown lock of hair out of her face, then flipped her screen so that both V and Kerry could see it. She folded her hands and placed them on the table in front of her, posture a little too upright and confident. V tried his best not to read too much into her body language.

“How are you feeling today?” she then asked, facing V.

“Headache, since yesterday,” he said, “Maybe a… four out of ten. Annoying but bearable. Been a bit dizzy, too. Spacing out.”

Fuentes nodded, turned on the datapad resting beside her, and made a quick note. From the corner of his eyes V noticed that Kerry was taking in the office still, as it was his first time here. Looking at the shelves, the books, the little touristy trinkets and children’s artworks displayed between books and files.

“Anything else since we last spoke? Usual or unusual?” Fuentes continued.

“Um…” V shifted in his seat.

“Trouble forming sentences?” Fuentes asked with a knowing smile.

“Somewhat. This morning,” V nodded. He hesitated.

“And… a small nosebleed last night.”

Kerry turned to look at him promptly but remained quiet. V only briefly glanced at him, then back at Fuentes. She made another note.

“Any other symptoms this was accompanied by? Potential triggers, a lot of stress, physical exertion?”

“Just the headache,” V said, “And, I guess… physical exertion probably.”

Fuentes looked up from her datapad, as if she was about to scold V for not resting enough – but then she saw the way Kerry looked at him and closed her mouth again. 

“That why you disappeared into the bathroom so long?” he quietly asked, and V sighed.

“It was no big deal,” V insisted, “If it had been, I would’ve said something.”

“Keeping secrets is never good,” Fuentes interjected before Kerry could respond, even though V was sure he had a lot to say.

“Thank you,” he then just settled with, directed at Fuentes, and leaned back in his chair. Yet, V couldn’t take her as seriously as he would’ve liked to, given how secretive she had been as well. For her own good reasons, the same way he had his.

“Even more so I’m glad to have you both here today,” she then said, “I’d like to discuss my findings, as well as a potential plan of action to help you. A little more concrete this time.”

V still didn’t want to get his hopes up, even if at this point in the conversation the doctors so far had already told him that there was no hope beyond a symptomatic treatment for as long as was still possible before the inevitable.

Fuentes pulled up several scans, some of them older, from Vik and from other doctors, detailing the development of the deterioration of V’s brain. She also opened a 3D-model of his skull featuring a cyberware contraption that V didn’t instantly recognize. Finally, a document resembling a timeline appeared on the screen, likely the individual steps of her treatment plan.

“Not gonna lie, doc,” Kerry said, “So far that bodes better than anything else we’ve been told so far.”

Fuentes smiled but kept up her calm and collected demeanor. V could sense that not all her news was good. Sometimes small doses of truth were better than spilling it all at once, though he did not prefer it that way.

She quickly recounted last week’s testing to bring Kerry up to speed, and V also didn’t mind the refresher.

“During our first appointment I’d shown you several issues we need to tackle,” Funtes began, turned to V again, “A main concern was stabilizing the Relic in a suitable environment, for protection against external influences. Additionally, the tests of your system performance have me thinking by now that the Relic is not as stable in its current slot as I had first assumed, either.”

“Doesn’t sound good,” V said, but he wasn’t surprised. Fuentes made a swaying left-and-right motion with her head.

“I wouldn’t say it is bad news, either,” she explained, “The biochip being somewhat unstable could be a possible explanation for your feeling of disconnect. Just a bit more literally. It is not communicating as effectively with the organic and inorganic components of your body as it should to work at full capacity.”

V let that sink in for a moment.

“Are you saying that… his mind has a loose contact?” Kerry then wondered out loud.

Fuentes chuckled.

“It is much more complex,” she said calmly, “But something like that, yes.”

“Always had issues with that damn slot…” V muttered, although he admittedly hadn’t expected this turn of events. He knew that the Relic was faulty, falling down the side of Konpeki Plaza hadn’t helped much either – plus everything else he had been through since then. But that something so mundane as performance issues hadn’t been discovered by a whole array of doctors so far seemed unlikely. He continued to listen, but with an added layer of caution.

“Now that we are aware of it, we can try to fix it,” Fuentes said, “It could improve your quality of life a little bit already – or a lot.”

She zoomed in on the 3D model of V’s skull, and he remembered how this all had started out as a sketch on a scan. Now the proposed contraption to hold the Relic had a lot more substance to it, looked like something concrete and tangible that could become a reality – his reality.

“The design is not final yet, but getting there,” Fuentes prefaced her explanation of how she planned to transfer the Relic to its new home. She detailed the process with a brief simulation, and V watched with skepticism.

“So, you’re… gonna put that thing in his skull, and, without ever disconnecting anything, fix the slot and pull the chip over there?” Kerry summarized what they were shown. Fuentes nodded.

“Seems pretty… invasive.”

“I know,” she said, “The normal approach here wouldn’t be a big open surgery, rather relying on nanites doing the installation. Not even the shadiest street-ripper is drilling holes in skulls anymore to install a new RAM Upgrade. But V’s case is far from normal. Since a lot of logistics are involved, a more invasive approach is going to be more effective.”

“Two birds with one surgery,” V nodded, understanding where Fuentes was coming from, but still not liking the implications.

“Time remains of the essence,” Fuentes said, “I suggest tackling this as soon as…”

She paused, looked at V, then Kerry, on whom she lingered.

“He knows,” V realized why she hesitated, “He knows about Sutter and the blueprints.”

He couldn’t quite place her reaction, a mix of disdain of V involving other “civilians” in her secrets… and curiosity maybe, as to how deeply Kerry could be involved in any plans. He certainly had a bad boy image, though more in an artistic sense, not necessarily a criminal one. That had to be intriguing to some degree.

V had not yet had a chance to tell Fuentes about how he would go about tracking down Sutter either. Maybe he would as soon as he had a better grasp of whether or not the whole ordeal was going to be worth it, or if Plan Philippines would become their new priority after today.

Fuentes cleared her throat.

“I would tackle the surgery as soon as you have been able to get your hands on the blueprints,” she said, “It is most likely going to put you out of commission for a while.”

“How long are we talking here?” V asked promptly.

“At least a week of bedrest, and at least two months of minimal physical strain. We’ll see from there.”

V let out a long, deep breath.

“That’s… longer than I might have, according to your prognosis last week,” he said.

“I know,” Fuentes said, “which brings me to my next finding.”

On the screen, she returned to the animated brain scans, showing the deterioration and changes of the last months.

“Your body and your operating system have been in a permanent state of emergency for months now. Your brain is not being stimulated as much as it needs to be to function properly – an explanation for your more physical symptoms, like apathy and lack of energy, which in return can also contribute to depression.”

She paused for a moment, to collect her thoughts, but her intense look, the way she seemed to scan him for even the smallest reaction, gave V the chills. He braced himself for whatever there was to come, tried to loosen his shoulders and not let his tenseness show.

“One way I would like to tackle this understimulation, and fixing of all the damages the Relic and gunshot wound caused, is with the nanites. But I think we need to go one step further,” she said, “I would like to – temporarily – try and disable as much of your cyberware as possible.”

V swallowed, blinked a couple of times. A Trauma Team AV breezed past the office window, the sun steadily climbed higher and once again bathed Fuentes in this strange glow that made her seem unreal.

“I don’t have that much cyberware to begin with,” he then relativized, “Is that really gonna be necessary?”

“It may not be much,” Fuentes said, “But the majority of what you have installed impacts brain function. Cyberdeck, frontal cortex implants like Self-ICE that draw a lot of resources even while running only passively...”

She looked at a list of V’s cyberware on her datapad, going through all the implants and enhancements.

“Kiroshis with a lot of additional functionalities and scanners – …”

“You want me to disable my Kiroshis?” V lost his composure for a moment, and Kerry quickly put his hand on V’s thigh to soothe him. V took a shaky breath.

“Obviously I don’t want to blind you,” Fuentes said calmly, “I’m also not saying to uninstall anything, with optics that’s not advised in general anyway. But we need to take strain from your system to allow you to recover. And if that means shutting down anything that isn’t necessary for survival, we have to do it.”

“So, I really gotta go and lock myself in at home then,” V spat out, “Dunno if you ever hang out at shady bars or use the metro, but in general it’s not really advised to spend a lot of time on the streets – or work as a merc – without any chrome whatsoever.”

“Vince,” Kerry said quietly, “It’s temporary. ‘til you’re better, not forever. A small price tag I’d say.”

“Easy to say for ya, hanging out at home 95% of the time,” V responded before really thinking through what he said. He bit his tongue and shook his head instantly, “Sorry that… Not sure where that came from.”

There was a tense pause.

“Yeah,” Kerry then said flatly, and without even looking V knew he’d gone too far. Still though, Kerry didn’t move away. V closed his eyes and took another few deep breaths, trying to make sense, relativize, convince himself that this was necessary and a good idea.

The moment Dex shot him popped into his head all of a sudden. How even then, bruised and beaten and horrified, he had been ready to jump back to his feet. Lunge at his throat and kill the bastard, not even something he would usually resort to. Dex rendering him so helpless, wanting him to die small and vulnerable and be forgotten, had instilled V with the worst rage he had felt until that moment in his life. He refused to end on a gross motel floor, with so many things left unresolved, left unspoken, undone – and yet, he had been so utterly fucking helpless about changing any of these things. He never wanted to be as helpless again, out of control of his own life, yet he feared this was what this would boil down to.

V slowly reached out to take Kerry’s hand. He squeezed it tightly once. After a short pause, Kerry did the same and they interlocked their fingers. The tension in his chest faded at least somewhat.

“I know this is difficult to hear,” Fuentes then said, “But I can only reiterate what I’ve told you a couple of times already. You need to take a step back. Delegate what is possible. Ideally, I would have nothing against it if you can get your hands on the blueprints and… all that without lifting a finger yourself. None of this is going to be easy, and I can’t promise that any of it will work. But it is a chance, and we should take it and take all necessary steps to at least try and tip the scales in our favor.”

V only half listened to what Fuentes said. He knew she was right, but every fiber of his being rebelled against the thought of just fading away from the face of the earth like that, even if it was only temporarily. Night City was merciless when it came to showing any signs of weakness. It would simply swallow you whole, your life, all you’d worked and fought and bled for, without hesitation, if you didn’t continue working and fighting and bleeding every day. He had lost so much before, but also never before had he as much to lose as right now. He was deeply involved in many of Rogue’s running operations, in managing the Afterlife. He fucking loved it. The planning, the scheming, it felt like he was back at his Counterintel job, only that he was the one in charge now, not a tool carrying out orders. He enjoyed the high-profile gigs he was getting, the ones that involved scouting, logistics… Even the work for Blue-Eyes he had loved.

A shiver ran down his spine. Was he so angry, so reluctant, because he didn’t want a quiet life, or was he angry because him leading a quiet life wasn’t beneficial to Blue-Eyes’ plans? Would he want him to resist this treatment plan? If he said no to Fuentes today, Mr. B’s “blank canvas” body was still on the table for V to take. A new, strong, healthy body without months-long impairment, bedrest, long-term damages and other potential side-effects. All at the small cost of potentially losing himself forever and becoming a tool again, but this time in the hands of a corporation V had even less a grasp and understanding of than Arasaka.

He shuddered.

“Fuck… Alright, fine. We can give it a try,” he said, gritting his teeth, “You say temporarily… how long?”

Fuentes shrugged and shook her head.

“I suggest tackling it in the same timeframe as the surgery,” she said, “But it could be necessary to leave everything shut down for longer than the projected healing time. Maybe we can slowly reintroduce some parts of your system if the recovery goes well. But ideally, I would like to keep everything shut off until the nanobots prove to be effective in undoing some of the damage the Relic did to your nervous system.”

V sighed heavily, slumping back in his chair, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand.

“We can take a break if you want to,” Fuentes suggested, “I know it’s a lot.”

“No, it’s alright,” V shook his head, “Just trying to mentally prepare myself for the bad news.”

He opened his eyes just a crack, peeking past his fingers.

“Cause so far all that still sounds mostly positive, despite the sacrifices and setbacks.”

Kerry nodded.

“Yeah, so far all sounds doable. And promising.”

Fuentes shifted in her seat slightly.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said, “But yes. I have bad news, too. Not to a degree where this is all doomed to fail, but… complications where I didn’t expect them.”

V sat up straight again, steeling himself.

“I already had the suspicion last week,” Fuentes began explaining, “That whatever is happening to your body currently – the violent seizure-like episodes – is not necessarily tied to the brain damage caused by the gunshot wound or the Relic. I tried to examine the nanobots and the medication you received lately, from your other sources. The medication as such is similar to what I prescribed you with now, and from what you told me, it is helping suppress the worst of the physical symptoms.”

“Yeah, pretty much feelin’ the same as with the other meds,” V confirmed, “Not sure if the disconnected feeling is much better…”

Fuentes turned to Kerry.

“What has your impression of him been this last week?” she asked, catching him slightly off guard.

“Oh, um…” Kerry bounced his leg briefly, looked to the shelves on the side and really thought about it for a few moments, “As like… compared to before he started taking your meds?”

Fuentes nodded, and he looked at V, at their intertwined fingers.

“Today he’s been a bit off,” he then decided to say, “But the weekend especially was good. Felt like we could talk more openly, even about the difficult stuff. He was more present, in the moment, than in a long time.”

V looked to his feet, then slowly back up at Kerry, this time able to hold his gaze.

“Okay,” Fuentes noted, “That sounds good, and I hope it can be attributed to the new medication, even if it is still a bit early to say. I will prescribe you more, and you keep an eye on how you feel and inform me if anything changes – for the better or worse.”

V nodded.

“That being said,” Fuentes continued, and her expression suddenly turned somewhat darker, “I tried to examine the nanobots… but before I could discern anything concrete, they dissolved.”

“They… what now?” Kerry was quicker than V.

“Just like that?” V asked.

The doctor leaned back in her chair slightly, clutching her armrests.

“I kept them in an environment where this shouldn’t have happened,” she explained, gesturing, “As I told you, since they were introduced into your body in an atypical way, potential dissolving was something I feared could happen, so I took all usual countermeasures. The fact that it still happened seemed… targeted.”

“Not sure I’m following,” V said, but he was, more than that. He only needed to hear it from Fuentes as well to make sure his paranoia wasn’t completely off the rails.

“My guess is, these are not intended to be examined by outsiders,” Fuentes said, “We had mechanisms like that in place at BioDyne, too. Remotely triggered or inbuilt self-destruction switches, should prototypes and the like breach containment or get into the wrong hands.”

“So, them not being contained in the pills, or being outside of my body…” V wondered out loud.

“There could be all sorts of triggers,” Fuentes nodded, “Depends on the resources of whoever constructed them.”

V glanced at Kerry, whose face was just as grim.

“That would fit the MO of the person they came from,” V said, still not keen on telling Fuentes too much about Blue Eyes.

“I figured,” she said, “But I will ask no further. Though I am disappointed I didn’t get the chance to have a closer look at them, and that I can’t tell you exactly what their purpose was.”

“They did something to my brain to make me dependent on the pills, so they can continue doing whatever they were doing,” V recounted, and Fuentes nodded slowly.

“The brain scans support this in the sense that your nervous system’s structure was slowly being altered, but it is hard to say what the end goal was… Only that most changes took place in areas tied to sense of self, self-preservation and impulse-control, memory, emotion…”

Mind control, V thought, but did not say it. The same thing Vik had already suspected and that he and Kerry were suspecting ever since V had returned from the Crystal Palace gig.

“Keeping me alive and making me obedient,” V said quietly, and Kerry squeezed his hand a little tighter. Fuentes just looked at him intensely for a moment, then back to her datapad.

“Thankfully though,” she continued, “the BioDyne bots may be able to reverse even these changes. Along with repairing the remaining damage from the gunshot wound, as well as any structural changes the engram caused. And with that, in the long term, there is a chance your body can recover, too. With… strings attached.”

Of course. V said nothing, only listened this time.

“I compared the state of your body to that of a person struggling with an autoimmune disorder before,” Fuentes explained, “Only that it is not your immune system acting up, but your nervous system, very, very simply put.”

“Right…”

“The point of the nanobots is rewiring your nervous system back to a previous state in which your body did not attack itself, where it was compatible with your engram… where it could be possible to think about, in the very long term, years maybe, trying to find a way to transfer your engram back into your body, making the Relic obsolete.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to sell me shit in a golden wrapper,” V did not like Fuentes painting a bright and happy future this far away. She shifted in her seat.

“Fine. If everything works as intended… it is likely that, with basically resetting your brain and nervous system to an older state, you could experience memory loss. To a significant extent.”

V had to let that sink in for a moment.

“How significant? Like… just, all of it gone, or what? Gotta learn how to talk and eat and walk again?”

“Not quite as drastic, I hope,” Fuentes said, “But I cannot fully exclude it either. This has never been done before.”

“Hang on though like… You can’t say, ‘drastic memory loss, but maybe not so drastic’,” Kerry interjected. Even through his dark sunglasses V could tell how tense his stare was.

Fuentes hesitated and folded her hands in her lap.

“Let me try and rephrase it,” she then said, “It is possible that you forget anything that happened between the Relic being activated and Mikoshi. Or potentially even until the present moment. Or maybe only what happened between Mikoshi and now, while keeping the memories of before your psyche was digitized intact. I really cannot tell for sure.”

She pulled up V’s most recent brain scans on her screen again.

“I had assumed last week, since your personality is stored on the biochip, so would be your memories – meaning, anything that happened after your consciousness was digitalized, should be stored on the chip, too, which would work in our favor. Everything secure in one external place while your body recovers.”

“But that’s… not the case?”

“The brain scans show activity in areas of your organic memory, which you would likely lose during the restructuring. In an even worse case scenario, you could lose parts of your organic memories but not all of them. I also cannot say how substantial these memories are, nor from what timeframe, and if they could influence your personality and decision-making in the future.”

V didn’t even want her to explain this further. In fact, he had to do his hardest not to start laughing about the absurdity of this situation. He huffed and shook his head. Worst case scenario of all of this would literally be like Johnny was back again, only that a different version of himself would pop up arguing with him, bickering, telling him what a fucking gonk he had been to take Fuentes up on her offer in the first place.

“If this happens,” Fuentes continued, “It could lead to symptoms similar to those the engram triggered: psychosis, mood swings, unpredictable behavior...”

“I figured…” V said sternly. Fuentes kept talking, but her voice drifted further and further away, drowned out by a ringing in V’s ears that steadily increased in volume.

“The rewiring process itself will likely also be painful, comparable to what you went through when the engram took root. Your personality could shift and change, you might end up being a very different person from who you are now.”

Kerry rubbed V’s knuckles gently, but V kept his eyes closed. The room had begun spinning around him.

“Need some fresh air?” Kerry asked.

V said nothing, just nodded. Kerry didn’t hesitate, got up, and gently pulled V with him.

He said something to Fuentes, but V didn’t understand either of their words anymore. Blindly he followed Kerry through the hallways, half-dragged, half-guided along. Time seemed to be standing still and they just floated by. Then suddenly warmth and dust and noise above and all around them, and before V had really grasped it fully, Kerry sat him down on a bench within the courtyard of the MedCenter. They were surrounded by tall walls and hundreds of windows, a few other people sat and walked here, smoking, eating, talking, some of them visitors, others patients. There were a handful of thick trees in concrete beds, surrounded by winding coarse gravel paths, a brutalist Japanese zen garden. Even so though, the bright greens and crunch of the uneven ground beneath their soles was a welcome change of scenery.

Kerry sat down on the bench next to V, still holding his hand.

“Came here a couple times while you were knocked out still after your accident,” he said quietly, “Not as far as all the way back down for a smoke break.”

“It’s nice,” V said, but his words sounded as hollow as his chest and head were, echoing through his body and leaving him even more empty. Kerry looked at him intensely, V knew it without having to turn his head, but he remained silent. They just sat side by side for a couple of minutes, and V stared into nothingness, tried to focus on his breathing, the heaviness of his own body, the wind and the sunshine. In the end it was Kerry who managed to find words first.

“Overall… I expected it to be worse, gotta admit,” he said, “She’s got a plan at least. And she’s transparent about the risks.”

“Mh-hmm.”

“Vince,” Kerry’s voice grew quieter again, and he shuffled slightly when he took off his sunglasses, “You’re worried that…”

V swallowed.

“What I’ve been most scared of the whole time…” he started slowly, referring to the night he walked out of Arasaka Tower, since Vik had confirmed to him that his health would continue to deteriorate, like Alt had told him, “Was that I’d grow so emotionally numb that I’d no longer be able to feel anything for you. That my feelings would just fade away together with me.”

“You think that’ll happen?” Kerry wondered. His voice was calm, but V could still hear a hint of worry, felt it in the tenseness of his body so close by his side. Finally, he found the strength to turn his head and look him in the eyes, big and bright and so damn worried.

“I dunno,” he said, truthfully, because none of them could know anything for sure, if not even Fuentes did as an expert in her field, “But just the thought of… forgetting even a fraction of what we’ve been through. Our late-night conversations down by the Pacifica pier, the impromptu Badlands trips. Our heart-to-heart at Dark Matter, you playin’ your new song to me on Kovachek’s yacht. Hell, our first meeting and everything in-between then and now. The possibility of losing even just a single moment of that kills me.”

Kerry hesitated briefly, looked away, down to their hands, then back at V.

“Fuentes said she’s not sure it’s even gonna happen like that,” he said, but V shook his head.

“No, maybe not. Maybe I’ll just lose my fuckin’ mind for good before I forget anything.”

“Vince…”

V turned away and tried to force his heart to beat slower by sheer willpower, but he failed. What surprised him more than anything was less that he worried about forgetting all the memories he’d made with Kerry… but the possibility that he’d forget about his experiences with Johnny, too. As much as they’d hated each other some days, V would lie if the whole experience hadn’t significantly shaped him into who he was now, that it made him stronger, even more stubborn and resilient and hungry for life, despite all the odds constantly against him. Would all of that be undone again, all the change, all the growth? Would he return to being the blue-eyed, over-confident beginner-merc strutting through Konpeki Plaza like he owned the place without the cred to prove it? Who was so convinced that the corporate world isn’t half bad, with delusions about returning some day and missing being a little cog in the wheel that just worked and did its thing, blaming responsibility on others always? Who didn’t feel worthy of friendships, not even Jackie, who had treated him more like family than his own parents ever did?

Surely things had happened in the last six months he wouldn’t mind forgetting about for good. But knowing his luck he would remain stuck with these specifically while forgetting the shivers of his first kiss with Kerry or diving down to Laguna Bend with Judy. That he could forget meeting River’s family and finding common ground and even friendship with someone like Panam who was from a whole different world than him, was almost too much to bear.

“Even if you forget about it all,” Kerry then said, slowly and gently pulling at V’s sleeve to make him come closer, “I’ll fuckin’ try my hardest to make you remember and keep our memories alive… and even more important than that: you’ll still be around so we can make new memories together, right?”

“Ah fuck,” V sighed and rubbed his eyes. The numbness and cold that had accompanied him all morning was still weighing heavily on him, but it finally started to become more bearable.

“Try and stop me,” Kerry whispered against V’s hair as he pulled him into a proper hug again. He knew that Kerry was just as scared as him, of the challenges to come if he – they – went through with Fuentes’ plan. But yes… should it all work out, and V hoped so much it would for Kerry’s sake alone, they’d at least get the chance to walk into the future together.

Slowly he raised his arms to loosely hug Kerry back.

“What if I don’t forget,” he mumbled against Kerry’s chest, “… but change in a way so you don’t love me anymore?”

Kerry chuckled lowly.

“Don’t think a timeline like that even exists, ya gonk.”

V couldn’t see his face, but he could hear that he smiled. He wasn’t sure what to respond to a reply so confident.

“Ya know,” Kerry then said after a short pause, “In a way, what this is, ‘s just a change. Nothin’ more natural than things changin’. Admittedly not as fast and drastically but… Not sure where I’m even goin’ with this... But sometimes change can be good, too. You’ve definitely changed me for the better, ‘n that at a time when I was so trapped in my own fuckin’ life the only way out I saw was the barrel of my gun.”

He shuddered barely noticeably, the slightest tremor in his voice. V shivered too, reminded once again how damn lucky and unlikely of a coincidence it had even been that they met at all. Just in time, maybe for both of them.

“So, like…” Kerry cleared his throat, “Even if for some insane reason this whole thing turns you into the biggest asshole since Johnny Silverhand… I’ll remember who you are now, who you were when you stumbled into my life, and every moment in-between. Everythin’ you did for me. I sure as hell will fight like crazy to help you change for the better, too, and see a light at the end of the tunnel again. Don’t worry about where the next step’ll lead ya to, focus on just getting’ there in the first place. Everythin’ else we’ll figure out as we go, we’re good that that. You’re good at that. Have always been, from what you’ve told and shown me and how I’ve gotten to known ya at your core.”

V had to let all of that sink in as they just sat and held each other. The people walking by surely stared and wondered what was going on. Not that V cared in particular right now, but as usual he lowkey worried someone might recognize Kerry here after all, even though he was semi-undercover.

“Did I ever tell ya how much I love it when you’re down-to-earth like this?” V then decided to say, and Kerry chuckled gently.

“Think so, yeah,” he said.

“Good,” V nodded, still holding on tightly, “You make it so easy for me to just… be vulnerable. Dunno how you do it. I can’t really be like this with most other people. But with you it’s different. It’s easy, and it feels good.”

Kerry smiled and hugged him a bit more tightly. V paused for a moment.

“You really think we’ll manage?”

“For sure,” Kerry nodded without hesitation, and V sighed.

He wanted to believe it so badly, wanted a fraction of Kerry’s confidence when so often it had been the other way around, he had been the confident one that Kerry leaned against. It felt like they had arrived at a crossroads this very moment, where their roles would be reversed for good for the foreseeable future. V had to hand over the reins and hope things would fall into place somehow, just like Kerry said.

V slowly let go of him, sat back up, but then pressed his forehead against Kerry’s.

“Alright,” he whispered, “For a future together. Whatever it may be like.”

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

>> Next Chapter (tba)

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

Notes:

This chapter was a struggle for many reasons, hence no update in such a long time - temporarily it was at almost 11,000 words because there was so much I wanted to include, but I decided there will be room for that at a later point still xD

Anyway! There is a plan now to safe V 👀 and I'm also just a sucker for being able to be vulnerable in all shapes and forms with your partner, no matter if it's fully letting go and dropping all inhbitions in the bedroom or crying in public about how fucking unfair life is, but at least you don't have to face the horrors alone xD

Fingers crossed the next chapter will come sooner, as it's also one I've played through in my head so much 👀 Judy finally returns to NC for a visit!

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[plomegranate]

i love palestinian and arab culture so much.

my grandma wearing thobes around the house and making us tamriyeh. my cousins wedding when we all wore thobes and keffiyehs and took photos downtown and we danced with someone playing the guitar on the street and this lady stopping us to tell us we all looked so beautiful. walking the graduation stage in a thobe. the girl who liked to guess arab peoples ethnicities telling me "you're wearing tatreez... do you want me to write 'palestinian' on your forehead?" the keffiyeh my brother keeps on the drivers seat of his car.

my dad sending me off to my last semester of college with 2 pomegranates and a jar of palestinian olive oil. my cousins wife coming up with new ways to make zaatar and cheese pastries. me and my grandma sitting on the floor and making waraq 3neb- my job was to separate the leaves so she could roll them easier. my mom sending me and my brother to school with eid cookies for my teachers and tasking us with delivering some to the neighbors. my aunt glaring at me and piling more food on my plate and then asking if i was still hungry (i wasnt). my mom always telling me to invite my friends and cousins over for dinner and asking me what they like to eat. my family getting my dad knafeh instead of cake for his birthday. the man who told me i made the "best fetteh in the western hemisphere".

the man in the shawarma shop who gave me my fries for free and baklava i didnt order because we spoke about being palestinian while he took my order. the person on tumblr who i bonded with because we are from the same palestinian city. the girl i met on campus who exclaimed "youre palestinian? me too!" because i was wearing my keffiyeh. the girl in my class that showed me the artwork about palestine her dad made and donated for fundraising. the couple in the grocery store who noticed my palestinian shirt and talked with me for 20 minutes and ended up being a family friend. the silly palestinian kids i tutored sighing in disappointment when i told them i was born in america because they were hoping that id have been born "somewhere cooler". my friends family who bought me dinner despite me being there by chance and having met me for the first time the day before.

the boys starting uncoordinated dabke lines in my high school's hallways. the songs about the longing and love for our land. the festivals and parties and gatherings where everything smells like shisha and oud. memories of waiting in the car for an hour as my parents talked at the doorway of their friends homes. my cousins and i showing up at each others homes with cake or fruit or games as if it was the first time we ever visited even though we always say "you dont have to".

kids stubbornly helping to clean and make tea after a meal while being told to go sit down because they are guests. the necklaces in the shape of our home countries. people hugging and laughing and acting as if theyve known each other for years because they come from the same city or know people with the same last name. the day i finally got to bully my friends into letting me pay the bill because i had a job and they were still students. my moms friend who calls us every time she's at the grocery store to see if we need something

palestinian people are so resilient and hardworking and charitable. they love their culture and their community and are so quick to share and welcome anyone in. everyday i am so thankful and proud to be part of such a warm and lovely culture

[mountainsandmayhem]

Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom! 

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs. 

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”. 

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth. 

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing. 

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water. 

Focus! 

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back. 

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much. 

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears. 

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life. 

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you. 

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?” 

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.” 

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you. 

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf. 

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder. 

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him. 

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you. 

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?” 

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.” 

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger. 

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep. 

“Smooth,” you say teasingly. 

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.” 

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.” 

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now. 

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?” 

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.” 

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list. 

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities. 

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.” 

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain. 

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play. 

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart. 

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.” 

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce. 

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf. 

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says. 

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.” 

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.” 

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.” 

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before. 

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.” 

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her. 

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need. 

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say. 

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human. 

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond. 

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude. 

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket. 

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.” 

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.” 

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.” 

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh. 

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically. 

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again. 

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing? 

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.” 

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle. 

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.” 

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke. 

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.” 

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in. 

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them. 

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his. 

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights. 

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones. 

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions. 

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.” 

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new. 

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?” 

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch. 

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?” 

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours. 

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here. 

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.” 

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?” 

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough. 

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?” 

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.” 

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful. 

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?” 

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?” 

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?” 

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.” 

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.” 

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.” 

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags. 

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.” 

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!” 

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time. 

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional. 

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him. 

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut  @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[violet-hearth]

Basic Spell Oils

I should have posted this a lot earlier, but I forgot ..

Oils are a great way to create herbal blends for spell work - oil preserves the scent, taste and herbal matter if stored away from sunlight (you can store in coloured glass) and can be adapted to make infused olive oil or cooking oils for your kitchen witchery, the dress candles, to add to glamour spells, or to make perfume bases.

Basic Recipe Formula:

Essential oils

Carrier oil such as sweet almond oil, jojoba oil, sunflower oil, apricot oil etc.

A small jar with a dropper or dropper top to store the oil in

Optional:

Vitamin E oil

herbs to create an infusion

Determine the intention of the oil (love, protection, confidence etc.) and gather the herbs and essential oils that have association (personal or common) with aspects of that intention

Add a few pinches of dried herbs to your bottle

Add a few drops of your essential oil (up to 10% of the bottle)

If using, add a drop of vitamin E oil - this can make it better for skin application and also stops the oil from going rancid from the herbal matters

Add the carrier oil and fill to the top, cap and shake to blend - as you shake you can say a prayer, chant, or focus your energy to charge the oil

Allow to sit for at least a week before use, as it ages it will start to macerate and smell more harmonious.

Date Night Dinner Oil

This is an olive cooking oil to be used in salads, sauces, to spread on breads, or to marinate meats and vegetables in. It is packed full of aphrodisiac herbs and summer spices

Olive oil

Garlic, rosemary, ginger, star anise, and chili

Strainer

For a quick infusion, add in your oil and herbs into a pan and simmer on a low heat for 30 minutes.

Allow to cool, strain and use within 1-2 weeks

Attraction Oil

The attraction oil combines aphrodisiacs and anti-anxiety herbs into an oil or perfume. The intention is to attract and command attention, to boost your confidence, and as a base for seduction work.

Add your carrier oil to your oil dropper or perfume bottle/roller - for this I’d recommend a rosehip oil, apricot oil or a neutral grapeseed oil.

Turn your herbs into oils either via essential oils or add them dried straight to your carrier oil to infuse: rose, clove, vervain, cinnamon, licorice, nutmeg, frankincense, apple blossom, jasmine, ylang ylang, lavender, cocoa, and/or gingseng - cater to personal preferences and match scents together, I recommend using between 3-8 oils or herbs.

Example scent profile: rose, lavender, apple blossom, vervain, cinnamon, licorice, gingeseng (spicy floral - I’d also add a little patchouli if turning into a perfume)

These types of recipes are where having a grimoire, notebook, or journal comes in very handy! Keep record of what you've tried, what scents match well, what is repellent, what works for you, plan out recipes before hand.

As always, adapt, change, and disregard as you like to suit your personal practice <3

[vyorei]

I found a post about Palestine and olive trees about a week ago, this reminded me of it so I'm gonna post the text below.

This was posted on Facebook by Dima Seelawi on the 29th of October 2018, it just happened to find its way to my newsfeed:

"When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli settlers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that."

And this picture was attached:

Link to the article in the header image:

[lilmissnatcat24]

friends i have a confession to make. i hope i don't get canceled for this.

i fucking love vinegar. i love vinegar so much. i love vinegar far more than the average person should like vinegar. i have at least ten bottles of different vinegars in my apartment right now. red wine, apple cider, balsamic, rice wine. you name it. there is a specialty vinegar store like 45 minutes away and i make that drive every other week to buy a new fancy bottle of vinegar.

my love for vinegar goes far beyond just the liquid gold itself. i love ANYTHING pickled. dill pickles, banana peppers, capers, olives, sauerkraut, kimchi. pickled jalapenos and ginger and eggs and beets and garlic. i have never once eaten something and thought damn waaaay too much of this pickled veg. no. on the contrary. i think more restaurants need to stop being pussies and load me up with more pickled veg than meat.

i don't care for vodka, but i will pretty much exclusively order dirty martinis or pickleback shots just so i can socially acceptably drink brine. when i played volleyball i used to take shots of pickle juice with my teammates under the guise of electrolytes, but in actuality it was so i can drink pickle juice. just now, i finished the last pickle in the jar. after spending far too much time wondering if i need to save the brine, i literally just drank half of it. my boyfriend started taking apple cider vinegar shots in the morning, and has been complaining how disgusting it is. i started doing it in solidarity, and i must report back that it's actually quite pleasant, and i look forward to my shot of vinegar i get to inhale every day.

i hope this doesn't change people's perceptions of me. i feel thankful to finally get this weight off my chest.

im also not stinky.

[pumpkingas]

Eprocto thoughts abt spooky creatures (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

Tw: Dub/con, Necrophilia ?(Cuz... Zombies)

Zombie 🧟

Literally unable to control their bowels, being dead you don't have the most control over your body...

That sloppy loose spinchter would absolutely collect air, causing constant windy farts, and even though they function as on-command farts the smell would still be HORRID from simply passing through zombie cheeks.

Skin is probably rotting which is gross HOWEVER... It'd be extra soft and elastic, you could knead it like dough, maybe help work some of that trapped air out??

Maybe they're sentient but still hungry?? Maybe you're a zombie lover and collect piles of rotting meat from the dumpsters behind grocery stores to take to your zombie pal?? Maybe they over indulge and lie down with a huge bulging gut that stretches way beyond living limits??? Maybe bubbly farts slip out of their ass as they groan and pant??? Maybe all the blood from that red meat sends them into a burping fit???

Werewolf 🌕

I think we can all agree werewolf diets are GNARLY, if not for being their soulmate/Luna/omega (and so on and so forth), they'd probably eat YOU if given the chance. Expect your freezer to be emptied out obviously, but also your refrigerator and cabinets. Raw meat, deli meat and nut bars will start to go missing, but soon it will be sauce bottles, leftovers with freezer burn, jars of olives and all kinds of pickled foods. Their breath will quickly smell like vomit if you don't own a werewolf proof kiddie gate.

Although they have stomachs of steel and likely wouldn't experience stomach troubles or bloating, you'll quickly become witness to the nastiest farts ever released into the atmosphere. They'd range from loud and quick duck quacks to long rumbling motor engine farts. The smell might not compare to rotting meat levels but werewolf stench will NEVER leave you, it will singe your nose hairs, coat your walls, sink into your fabrics, even soak into leather, like a skunk gone wrong.

Even if they're in their human form that ass is still going to be COVERED in hair, no matter the age, gender, sex, whatever, what's a wereWOLF without its fur? And how willing are you to spend hours helping a gassy werewolf wash the jungle in-between their fat cheeks?

If you're in its pack or are at least a candidate to join you HAVE to be scented, can't walk around like you're just anyone's human! Maybe it's a thrilling loving process where your werewolf lover sits on your naked form and carefully pushes fart after fart onto each and every body part of yours. Or maybe it's a secretive process from a werewolf that hasn't revealed itself yet, helping with the laundry just to rub your clothing against their crack, working up a sweat so they can drain the sweat drops into your body spray, shampoo and lotion. Taking a nap with your toothbrush between their ass so each bristle will be stained with their scent...

Vampires 🦇

Farts are quiet and SBDs are frequent but not mandatory, usually their gas releases in sort of a hum that vibrates whatever they're sitting on or laying against. Perhaps they have a form of fart echolocation, maybe you've planned a surprise party for a vampire as they got bored of birthdays after their 121st, and instead of reaching for the light switch they just begin to let out bubbly farts as they move around their home.

If you offer your neck to a vampire you better be aware of your diet, if the vampires lactose intolerant you better watch your dairy, if they're sensitive to raw vegetables you'd better cook yours thoroughly, and for the love of anything don't give a vegan vampire your meat eater blood, unless of course you'd like to see them grasp at their stomach and groan, releasing uncharacteristically loud farts and moaning shamelessly...

Suppose this is a vampire that's taken a liking to you, naturally you'll begin to bond with them and it'd intensify after each bite, but the thing is, there isn't exactly a limit to human devotion. One day a vampire could be nothing but someone you cross on the street who makes your heart flutter with no memory of what occurred the night before, and a year later that vampire could be your beloved owner that only speaks to you in commands, whenever they need a chair you're bending over before they can finish their sentence, and when the smell of their own gas begins to bother them how could you not dive between their cheeks and smell it?

[apollos-olives]

What are some of your favorite things about Palestine & Palestinian culture?

ayyy so i made another post about how much i love the mountains, but i also love our olives. i am NOT fighting the stereotypical palestinian olive lover allegations. i know a lot of people don't like olives but that's just bc they don't do it right i think. my grandmother ages the olives, adding lemon and salt and other sorts of "spices" and whatnot into an olive jar to mix with the olive oil and then keeps the olives sitting there in the juices and oil for many months. after aging them for a very long time, she takes them out and they end up becoming all soft and the olives would have soaked up a ton of the oil and juices and so when you bite into it it's soft and the oil floods your mouth and it's DELICIOUS 😩😩😩😩 that one saying that's like "palestinians drink more olive oil than water" is TRUE !!! olives are very special to us and we love them so very much.

i think palestinians really like our food sour. i don't know if this applies to all palis but in my family specifically, we LOVEEE sour foods. not the gross type of sour, but the sour that's like really enjoyable and fun and flavorable. we love making our waraq diwali (grape leaves) extra sour when we eat them, we like our laban (sort of like plain yogurt in a way) on the sour side, we have many different types of sour pickled foods and vegetables that you can buy from anywhere downtown from a store on the street, and my grandma and i eat straight up lemons whenever we have a meal. a lot of palestinian dishes have summaq in them, and that's a slightly sour sort of spice we always use.

another thing i love about palestine are our castles! castles, palaces, mansions, whatever you wanna call them. i've seen many around the city of ramallah, and they are GORGEOUS. i don't know if people actually live in them long term but they're a very pretty sight to see on the road. they're kept very clean and good looking so i bet people regularly attend to them. i think most people who own castles only come to live there when they're on vacation to palestine, but many of the castle owners don't permanently reside in the country. still a cool sight to see though!

i hope this was somewhat interesting to you lol

[fbfh]

Leo Valdez x pregnant!reader 3rd trimester headcanons

wc: 1.3k

genre: fluff, domestic bliss, slice of life

pairing: Leo x afab/pregnant reader

warnings: discussions of pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms, Leo is an amazing hubby/baby daddy, Esperanza is alive and well and excited to be an abuela, your friends are all super supportive and excited, Leo is amazing and this will give you baby fever, Leo cannot get enough of how cute your baby bump is

song rec: father of the bride 2 soundtrack

a/n: ngl normally pregnancy icks me the hell out but like... it's leo. I would. hm. I would give him a million babies with no hesitation. I want to bite him. blushing giggling kicking my feet.

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @perseajohnson @afidiofobia @almostjollypizza @fictionalcomforts  @lizziebitch33  @girlfriendwhoseawitch @dustyinkpages @cowboylikekelsey @legramilis @youkissedareaderinthedark @mrscarolscaramoucheplease @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @cosmiq-cloud @anything-forourmoony @chasingpj @mystic-writings  @dreamerball @if-only-i-was-fictional @2manyobsessions

You’re in your third trimester by now, and you and Leo couldn’t be more excited 

He and Annabeth have been working on the nursery nonstop

And Hazel has been spearheading your baby shower

She’s so excited about it, constantly bringing you color swatches and different spools of ribbon and little hors d'oeuvres to see which ones you like best

Esperanza’s over at your place a lot too

She loves going on walks with you, talking about baby stuff, helping you guys around the house

She loves all the baby gossip, telling you all the stories from when she was pregnant with Leo

She knows all the home remedies, too

She helps you out through all the aches and pains and assures you all the random symptoms are normal

You called her in tears once about a sharp pain you felt

Turns out it was just lighting crotch

You’re able to laugh about it now, but at the time it was so scary

And you’re really glad you have Esperanza there to help you through it

Leo adores how big your belly is getting 

He’s always kissing you and your tummy

Talking to baby, putting headphones on your belly to play music for them

You have a collaborative playlist of your favorite songs

Leo makes sure to include lots of Selena and Luis Miguel and all the other 90s music his mom raised him on

Baby has started kicking way more now too

You and Leo have a “wow, they’re gonna be a soccer player” jar

Every time someone sees that your baby is kicking and makes the soccer player joke, a dollar goes in the jar

“At this rate, we’re going to have a college fund ready before they’re even born.” Leo says it so matter of factly that you burst out laughing

Leo has a way of doing that

Making you laugh and smile through all the difficult parts of pregnancy

He’s right there for you through all the swelling and leaking and aches and pains and mood swings

And he’s also there for every kick and laugh and smile and kiss

He’s there for all of it

Every single part

You literally could not have a more enthusiastic, supportive partner

He’s the epitome of “if he wanted to he would”

Leo wants to do EVERYTHING

And he does

Esperanza raised him right

And she couldn’t be more proud and happy for both of you

Your cravings are finally subsiding

They’re still there, but they’re not nearly as bad as they were in your second trimester

You’ve had the worst cravings for cake recently

And fried chicken with a whole bunch of different sides ranging from olives and pickles to cabbage leaves rolled up with cottage cheese

Leo has become a familiar face at your local grocery store and bakery 

He showed up twice in one day to get you a lemon cake, and a marble cake with strawberry frosting a few hours later

You’re already some of the bakery’s most loyal customers, and Leo told Hazel to make sure she gets the baby shower cake from there

It’s also a perfect opportunity to do some subtle cake taste tests

But now your bump is so big it’s really getting in the way of daily activities

You insist on at least trying to tie your shoes and pick things up off the floor by yourself

You usually give up after a couple tries, and Leo is happy to help you out with everything

He can’t get over how adorable you look waddling around with your big old bump

He takes so many pictures and gets so many videos 

You basically can’t sleep without your maternity pillow, so Leo’s taken to spooning you when you guys are going to sleep

He rubs your belly and kisses your cheek and holds your hand

And you fall asleep with him murmuring about how much he loves you and your baby and how he wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else

And god, when your baby shower actually arrives??

Leo has been distracting you all week so you don’t accidentally figure out what’s being planned

One of his favorite ways to do this has been taking you out to get food and shop for more clothes for you and baby

Some of your favorites so far have been the sesame street one, the duck pajamas, and the fuzzy bear onesie with little ears and paws and a little tail

Leo has a talent for picking out the cutest dresses and other maternity clothes

Everything he finds for you makes you feel so pretty and feels so comfortable to wear

He even picks out some non maternity clothes for you too

“As much as I’d love for you to stay like this forever, you do need something to wear after the baby is born…” 

He rubs his hands over your belly affectionately before pressing a kiss to your lips

You ask Leo if you can slip away to get another cake

It’s a caramel hazelnut swirl with oreo filling that you’ve been talking about for two days

He lets you down gently, telling you the bakery is still out of oreo filling and hazelnuts

He makes sure you guys hit up the baby aisle and the snack aisle before you leave

Finally it’s time for your actual baby shower

And it’s absolutely amazing

It’s like Hazel looked into your brain and pulled out everything you could have dreamed of

And when you arrive to all your friends and family surrounded by the beautiful decorations

They bring out a caramel hazelnut swirl cake with oreo filling

That’s what finally brings you to tears

It’s the most wonderful time you could have hoped for

You spend tons of time with friends and family, eat delicious food, and talk about baby stuff the whole time

It’s not long after your baby shower that you start getting braxton hicks more regularly 

Leo insists on taking you to the hospital even when you insist it’s a false alarm

He is not going to take any risks when it comes to you or your baby

After the first false alarm, he made sure your hospital bags were packed and ready to go

He’s gone over the plan and the backup plan and the backup backup plan so many times he could recite them in his sleep

After a few more, you wake up one night, and Leo wakes up right behind you

You tell him you’re having contractions and he gets up immediately, launching into his usual speech about how the doctor said for you to go to the hospital even if it’s a false alarm and how much he loves you both

Before he can finish you turn to him with a look of seriousness he’s never seen before

“I don’t think it’s a false alarm.” 

That wakes him up even more

He gets you to the hospital in record time, and calls his mom on the way

He’s right by your side the whole time and holding your hand while the doctors and nurses get you set up

You share a look and know it’s hitting both of you at the same time

You’re about to have a baby

You’re finally, finally going to meet your baby

You’re about to be parents

Through all of the highs and lows of his life

Every crazy thing you’ve gotten through together

This night is by far the most exciting

[olieamr]

what do you think the Mercs would get at the supermarket?

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD A DRAFT AND TUMBLR THREW IT TO THE WOLVES 😢🙏 Spy: God, I don't know how to describe it but he would try his best to get normal things. Like, he lives a life of bloodshed constantly, so I think he would just buy regular groceries to try and stay sane. The other half of my says he would buy enough alcohol to satisfy Demo's wet dreams. Sniper: Jars. you can do a lot with jars. MEDICCCk!! In my head, Medic cannot cook. He's tried for Heavy's sake, but he cannot (for heavy's sake.) So, I think he'd just buy various things to preform his random lil experiments with and what not. I also think he's a nicknack collector so if he finds something funny he'd buy it. As for snacks, in my head he likes to snack. Once he moved to America, I think he started to like their chips n shit, so that's probably what he gets.

ENGIE I LOVE ENGIEEE: I think he's a grill dad. He would buy shit to grill with. Coal, those firestarter things, smoking wood, the works. I also think he would buy enough to feed the team if need be. Can you tell I think of him in a fatherly way. I think he and Heavy are the best cooks on the team, god knows what would happen to the kitchen if Solly or Pyro got in there. HEAVY !!! : Honestly, I think he enjoys cooking. More of a baker though, I envision him in that frilly apron with polka dots n' stuff LMFAO. I think he researches Medic's hometown meals and makes them for him, so he would buy ingredients for that. Of course he would also buy food for himself, such as bread, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, deli meat, a tooth pick and green olives. :3 DEMO !!!! RAAHH: Beer. Like, he only buys alcohol and maybe some snacks. I love him so much.

PYRO <3 :

the guy ever. the silly. I think they would buy so much fire things its crazy. Like, the store clerks would look them up and down and ask "So.. looks like you're havin' a bonfire, right?" and they'd just nod. They also buy lucky charms. so much lucky charms.

Soldier !:

His whole cart would be red white n' blue. Anything with his pride flag on it he's buying it. By pride flag I hope you know I mean American flag. He also probably buys things he would want Engie to cook for him, he'd sheepishly hand the burgers to him and be like. "I want these cooked." and Engie would just smile and nod.

scunt:

sooooo much caffeine. that man probably has enough kidney stones for five people. he also buys enough junk food to make a teenage boy go feral

[resident-mercie]

Carlos Oliveira Fic - Halcyon Days (NSFW). (Chapter 1).

notes: fem!reader, NSFW mentions, slow-burn, canon violence depictions.

➵ A slow-burning love story with Carlos Oliveira that transcends the apocalypse.

1998. The Raccoon City incident. Yet also, the day I met him.

I remember it quite vividly, as you can imagine. One day you’re living your monotonous life in the suburbs, next, your life is in tatters, to say the least. I was young and dumb then, in my twenties. No amount of preparation beforehand could’ve prepared me for Raccoon City. It started off mysteriously enough, remembering how myself and my coworkers would chat about the news reports we heard on the radio during our daily commutes. Bizarre murders in the outskirts of the town, yet the corpses had part of their remains almost bitten off. We just chalked it down to some wild dogs or coyotes taking an opportunity to get a little free food. Yet the reality was so much darker. There I was one evening, preparing for bed, and that’s when the apocalyptic uproar began. Screams, then sirens, then the sound of them. In my rush to see the ever growing commotion, my world turned upside down. The cinema, that I’d visit every weekend as a kid, was alight, the posters of new premieres reduced to nothing but ash. The donut store, that was usually full of workers making a slight detour from their commute home, was eerily silent amidst the cacophony of apocalypse.

It was entrancing, like my own little world. A world so vastly different from the monotony of my own, that it was painfully jarring. So jarring, that I didn’t notice the creature lumbering towards me—

A sharp whistle shook me out of the trance I was trapped in, as I stared at the beast that fell at my side, its crimson liquid splattering across the debris-ridden sidewalk. The reality dawned on me, as the creature squelched beside me, a slight wail emanating from its jaws.

It’s an apocalypse. A fucking apocalypse.

It was like watching a horror flick cliche in front of me. This creature is a zombie. A zombie, in my hometown.

“D’you wanna get eaten? Don’t just stand there!”

A hand grabbed mine, and I was back to reality, grounded at last. It was adorned in a fingerless glove, yet the fingers were quite coarse. Unlike the creature at my feet, the hand of my rescuer was warm, one of the few glimpses of humanity I would experience for a long while.

The hand pulled me away from the scene, as the monster by my feet began to reanimate itself slowly. Half aware of the situation I was in, I let myself be pulled away, witnessing the danger unfold in front of my eyes. Panic. Running. Screaming.

Everyone was going the opposite way to us, a realisation I made as my trance began to end, and the real world dawned on me.

"Why are they going—"

It was if he read my mind.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe. We've been converting the subway station into a safe spot. You're safe now, but you have to trust me."

You have to trust me.

For the first time since my rescuer grabbed ahold of my hand, I finally looked at him. He was adorned in military gear, underneath being a tight-fitting black t-shirt, a slight hole made in its sleeve. His forearms were muscular, one being used to guard myself from any incoming threat, while the other had an assault rifle of sorts hoisted upon his shoulder for easy access. His skin was a tanned olive shade, his forehead beading with sweat. There was a caring, yet determined, look that was plastered across his face.

I could trust him. I will trust him.

We kept running – it was the only thing we could do. Glass kept shattering. The screams were growing quieter now, a feeling that made me sick to the very core of my stomach. It could only mean one thing, really – that many of the people that we had ran past just moments before were about to meet a fate worse than death.

"Through here. Quickly." His voice was one that was firm, yet also one with concern.

“What the hell is this place?”

“It’s the subway. Me and uh, my gang, have been converting the train carriages into a safe place of sorts. You’re okay now.”

I nodded, the whole situation being a bitter pill to have to swallow. I could hardly get my words out of my mouth, unable to fully comprehend the extent of the horrors I bore witness to today.

“Why did you save me?”

“Because—“ He began, but his speech faltered, as if he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Ah, I mean, it’s my duty. Do you mind if you come on down to the first aid carriage? Need to check you over for cuts and the like. Can’t be bringing an infected into the safe place, y’know?’

I nodded, before the words fell out of my mouth, unable to control my racing thoughts any longer.

“I need to know your name. You risked your life for me, and I don’t even know who you are.”

His gaze softened a little, turning to face me with a smile of reassurance.

“Oliveira. Carlos Oliveira. Now, shall we get going? I can’t have you turning on me.”

There was even something reassuring in his laughter, in his humour, and in his smile. I gave a smile back, albeit an exhausted one, before following him into the sanctum of the subway.

“Okay, I just need you to stay put here for a while. Any unusual symptoms? Wanting to eat me because I look delicious? Anything like that?” Carlos smiled, producing a half full first aid kit from an area of the carriage.

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Boo. All the ladies usually want a piece of Carlos, zombie or not.” He rolled his eyes jokingly, taking an ear thermometer from the kit. “Do you mind if I take your temperature at all? Standard procedure, of course.”

“Of course.” I leant forward, cringing slightly as the thermometer entered my ear.

Carlos leant forward, his sweet breath hitting my cheeks. “I’m sorry if this hurts.” His voice was lowered, raspy. Being so close to the man who just saved my life was a little infatuating, to say the least.

“No, no. It’s okay.” My breathing grew unsteady, unable to cope with the closeness of his presence.

Surely I wasn’t in love with a guy I met fifteen minutes prior?

“Your temperature is fine.” Carlos frowned, removing the disposable cap from the thermometer and placing it back in the dishevelled first aid kit. "Are you sure you’re alright, though? You seem a little on edge. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Anything.

Every cell in my body screamed, pleading with me to ask for something. Anything. I was completely and utterly infatuated with Carlos Oliveira. I wanted to kiss him, feel my body melt into his, have him rail the ever living shit out of me in this godforsaken carriage—

“Could, you, uh, give me a hug?”

“I mean, so long as you don’t turn. But being eaten by a cutie would be a good way to go, I suppose.”

[elvenbeard]

Makes me Feel Better

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: After a truly horrendous week and tying off some loose ends, V and Kerry finally get some well-deserved downtime, including a heart-to-heart, good (and better) music, and some unexpected familiar faces showing up. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 15/?, 8923 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

The next two days were a blur. Tests and preparation, complicated diagnostics and elaborate research and planning blended the Med Center’s sterile brightness and the Afterlife’s noise and shady corners into an indistinguishable mess. Every second waiting for scans to complete V spent reading through dossiers and texting back and forth with Rogue. Between talks with clients and crews he slipped away into the bathroom for a minute to down the whole new array of meds Fuentes had prescribed him – right between all those wanna-be-mercs taking a piss and bragging about how they’d be the next Afterlife legend. V just stared his tired reflection in the eyes, harrow like a skull in the pale green light and listened to them, trying not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

The rapid whirr of the tiny electric saw chewing into his cast clashed with the bright white examination room this Friday afternoon. With a soft “click” it clipped through the last remaining connection that had kept his wrist restrained.

“There you go,” Jayda smiled, the medtech that had been taking care of him immediately after his accident as well. She pulled the cast away and V sighed with relief at being able to have his full range of motion back in his left hand. He wiggled his fingers and carefully tested if everything still moved as it should after being locked into place for a week, popped his personal link out and back in to make sure it was intact.

“Feels good, right?” Jayda said with amusement as she tossed the remains of the cast into a trashcan.

“That’s an understatement,” V said dryly.

“Just take it slow for a bit still,” she urged, “The nanites and meds did their job, but even so, it’s still a relatively fresh injury.”

V nodded.

“What about driving?” he then asked, “Riding my motorbike?”

Jayda raised her eyebrows.

“Only if you promise to not end up here again anytime soon,” she said with a wink and picked up her datapad, “Now all you gotta do is sign here and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” V said on the way out, glad that at least today’s stay at the Med Center had been a short one. He had worked his way through all his scheduled meetings at the Afterlife already, too. Simultaneously stoked yet also terrified of his further plans for the day, or rather, the night, he went on his way home.

Meanwhile, Kerry paid Lee a visit at his office. Locking the door behind him while saying “Payday’s here, Lee,” turned out to be immensely effective in reminding Lee who had the upper hand in this game now.

“K-Kerry! Listen! I told no-one anything!” Lee instantly started bumbling and sprung up from his office chair. He almost knocked over a showcase displaying awards won by talented artists that Lee hadn’t even met in person before, Kerry was pretty sure. Then he stumbled backwards against the window, a thin panel of smartglass separating him from a 30-story-fall into one of Charter Hills’s busiest shopping areas. He raised his hands in defense and whimpered, all the while Kerry still had only just set a foot into the room.

This was Kovachek’s old office, and admittedly, that was one of the main reasons Kerry still avoided it like the plague. Too many bad memories of that motherfucker going on and on and on until Kerry didn’t have any coherent thoughts left in his head anymore. Even worse that Lee hadn’t changed the place up much, either – to Kerry’s disappointment but also none of his surprise.

The wall to the right was covered in platinum records, most of them Kerry’s, as well as the aforementioned display cases, three in a row. In front of them, facing into the room, stood the pretentious black marble desk with two armchairs for visitors. The left half of the office consisted mainly of a seating area with sleek but uncomfortable-as-a-pile-of-bricks sofas, as well as a small bar including a mini fridge. And, of course, more shelves displaying awards, framed posters, or special records that Lee had no personal connection to.

Kerry slowly walked over to the desk and shoved the two chairs out of the way. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, never breaking eye contact with Lee, who was sweating blood.

“Told ya you owe me for the shit with V’s pills, motherfucker,” he said, calm but stern, “And you’re gonna do exactly what I tell ya. Got it?”

Lee just nodded but didn’t move away from his spot by the window, nor did he lower his hands. Kerry scrunched his nose in annoyance.

“C’mon, sit your ass down and take notes, I’m not gonna explain this shit twice!”

Lee just nodded and stumbled back behind his desk while Kerry flopped into one of the two armchairs, fingers interlocked across his chest, one leg dangling over the armrest. Then he began to recount what he and V had discussed the previous night, making sure Lee took note of every detail, every step of the plan.

Kerry had no doubt that it would all work out. What tied his stomach into a knot though was handing so much responsibility to Lee.

“All clear?” Kerry asked at the end of his instructions. Lee was as white as a sheet, hunched over his computer as he read through his notes.

“Y-yeah… Yeah, understood.”

“Nova… then get your ass to work. V’s gonna send you all the deets you still need in a few,” he said and got up to go back to the door, “Goes without saying that you’re not gonna talk to anyone but him or me about this?”

Lee nodded hesitantly.

“What if…” he whimpered, looking back and forth between Kerry and his screen, “What if some of these things like… the contracts… what if I run into trouble with that?”

“Well, first of all… ya better don’t,” Kerry threatened, pointing a finger at Lee, “But if there is anything goin’ not as planned, you fuckin’ call me immediately. Time to show MSM that they’re just as useless without me as I’d be without ‘em.”

The last sentence he only muttered, more to himself than at Lee. But with that he unlocked the door, walked out the office, out the building as fast as he could, couldn’t wait to be back home where V likely already waited for him.

“Babe, I’m home!” Kerry called with a singsong voice as he exited the elevator and stepped into their kitchen a short while later. No response. He shivered and the good mood he had hyped himself up to all the way here dwindled.

“Vince?”

Then Nibbles perked up on the sofa and caught Kerry’s attention, big greyish pink ears pointed in his direction. She yawned and stretched, jumped down and jogged towards him with a purry meow. But Kerry’s eyes remained glued to the sofa, where V laid curled up on his side, the cat cuddled up against him until now it seemed. Kerry managed to resist the urge to sprint towards him to check on him just long enough for V to sleepily lift his head, muttering a weak “Hey! Sorry, dozed off”.

Kerry took a shaky but relieved breath.

“You good?” he called over, still worried, and placed the two cups of coffee he’d gotten on the road on the kitchen counter. Nibbles meanwhile briefly rubbed against his legs before trailing off to her bowl. Kerry took the chance to walk over to V who stretched and groaned but didn’t get up yet.

“Yeah… relatively speakin’ at least,” he said. He had turned on his back now, rubbed his eyes, and Kerry squeezed onto the sofa next to his legs.

“Headache again?” he asked carefully, reaching out to take V’s hand, delighted briefly when he noticed that the cast was gone.

“Oh, fuckin’ finally,” he laughed, entangling their fingers. V also chuckled, blinking at Kerry as if he was blinded. He didn’t look like he just woke up from a nap, more like he hadn’t slept in three days.

“You sure you’re good?” Kerry asked once more.

“Yeah, just the meds I think,” V said and slowly sat up now, almost as if trying to prove his point, “The anti-seizure ones have ‘tiredness’, ‘exhaustion’ and so on listed as common side effects. Just wanted to close my eyes for five minutes, and that turned into… almost two hours, fuck…”

He shifted around, let go of Kerry’s hand, but was too wobbly on his feet still to get up immediately.

“Woah there, easy, we still got time,” Kerry said, “Literally just got home, too. Lee’s dumb as fuck and I had to explain everythin’ twice, told ya.”

V let out one brief, hoarse laugh, but at least he let Kerry coerce him into staying on the sofa a little while longer.

“You think he’ll manage?”

“He’s literally a fuckin’ manager, so he better,” Kerry couldn’t resist and V snorted.

“New level of dad joke reached.”

Kerry gently nudged him with his elbow, eliciting a cute little grin and teasing side-eye out of V.

“Nah, but in all seriousness,” he then said, “Your plan’s pretty fuckin’ amazing, for how quickly you came up with it. Not even Lee could mess it up.”

“We came up with it,” V corrected him, “Was your idea in the first place. And you got all the inside knowledge and connections.”

“That’s why we make such a good team,” Kerry grinned, trying to catch V’s gaze, but he still seemed a little absent, looking out the window at the slowly setting sun.

“Mh-hm, yeah we do,” he said, then closed his eyes again, almost as if he was ready to fall asleep once more.

“Alright,” Kerry said, and gave V a quick kiss on the cheek to keep him alert, “Go team! Ya ready for tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” V said still tired but opened his eyes again, and Kerry helped him up from the sofa to head upstairs. Time they got ready to party.

V wore his hair differently than what Kerry was used to that evening. Slicked back and neat. His smudged eyeliner was dialed back a notch as well. Now more than ever he looked like in the photos from a few years ago that Kerry had seen, of Arasaka functions and parties. Only that V’s hair was more colorful now and his choice of clothing reflected his personality so much more than just a sleek black and red suit. In the AV that took them to the release party for Kerry’s first single in a much longer time than what he’d like to admit, V quickly sent the last messages and instructions for the day, including the intel for Lee. While he was occupied with that, instead of looking out the window across the sprawling cityscape, Kerry only had eyes for V. He wore a golden yellow shirt with an intricate, dark-blue pattern resembling suns. He had it buttoned up only halfway, so his chest tattoo of stylized wings peeked out, almost appeared like a bird flying against the sunset. Or an angel. Or Icarus. On the seat beside him rested a sleek dark purple blazer, and he wore the matching pants, dark blue shoes with gold details rounding off the look. Kerry had never noticed the shirt nor the suit before and wondered if V bought both at some point in the last few days specifically for the party. Then again, he never missed a chance to dress up nicely like this, as chances to do so were rare. Their sense of style clearly distinguished them, but Kerry endeared it so much. His own outfit was almost casual in comparison to V. He hadn’t put a lot of thought into styling his hair or accessories any differently than usual. He wore a button-down shirt, yes, but fully unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. It was plain black, like his pants, which were fancy for his standards but nothing too formal. He wanted to continue to feel like himself still, not like he was wearing a costume for an over-the-top video shoot or stadium show.

“Alright, all done,” V announced, his Kiroshis returned to their amber brown color with the transmission complete, and he turned towards Kerry and smiled.

“What?” he asked after a moment of Kerry just staring at him.

“Nothin’,” Kerry replied, “Just… really happy right now. That you’re comin’ and all.”

V continued to smile, but the longer and closer Kerry looked, the more he felt like something was off.

“You still wanna come, right?”

“I do!” V said without hesitation, cupping Kerry’s cheek briefly before slumping back into his seat again, “I guess I’m… really just a bit nervous. Excited, but nervous.”

“Aww,” Kerry put his arm around V’s shoulder to pull him closer, “Rare to see ya nervous. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Hah, ‘n here I thought plan B was me playing your bodyguard, not the other way around,” V sneered and Kerry shut him up with a kiss.

“Not today.”

Their gaze drifted out the window, Charter Hill wasn’t far anymore. They zoomed past neon high-rises as if they had the sky to themselves tonight.

“Y’know,” Kerry said quietly, “I always really hated goin’ to these kinds of parties.”

“The king of NC’s nightlife? Not a fan of fancy all-inclusive parties?” V teased, resting his head on Kerry’s shoulder. Kerry held him even closer.

“Listen, goin’ to a club to get high and go hog wild is somethin’ different…”

“Don’t need to tell me about that,” V smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice. Reminded of a time probably in which “going hog wild” every night was the only way he still felt alive. Could feel something at all still. And if Kerry didn’t relate to that.

“What I’m sayin’ is,” he continued, “Going to industry parties was always different, ‘cause there’s no choice. Everyone’s expecting you to mingle, be nice and a good advertisement for the label. A reminder that all the glamor and crap is gonna be over with the snap of some executive asshole’s fingers if you don’t do exactly as you’re told, grin and bear it.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” V said, “Felt a lot like that when I went out with my coworkers at Arasaka. You played nice and all, had a good time with them, celebrated how you’d all collectively ruined some poor assholes’ lives again somewhere on the other side of the planet. And at the same time, it always felt like there were knives behind their teeth, ready to stab you in the back to elevate their own position. Not even excluding myself from that. It’s just how it works in that world.”

“Wow,” Kerry said after a short pause, “That sounds even more depressing actually.”

V snickered and nudged his side.

“Ass.”

“Corp-ass.”

“Wow, night only just started and you’re going below the belt already,” V finally laughed and that was all that Kerry had needed to be sure he was truly on board and not too tense to still be able to enjoy himself at the party. He more than deserved some proper downtime, they both did.

The AV slowed down, circling the rooftop of the MSM studio building, waiting for clearance to land. It had been sent and paid for by MSM, so security was no issue at least.

“The plus-side of these parties though…” Kerry said as they descended, and V was finally able to get a good first glimpse and impression of the already bustling event. This was also the first time he actually saw the bar area in use, a crowd forming around the bartenders flinging drinks and bottles. There was a round DJ booth with virtual dancers at the center of the rooftop, the dancefloor surrounding it. The door to the stairwell that led down to the recording booths was hidden behind decorative black and golden tarps showcasing the MSM logo, and on one side of the venue a huge screen had been set up, currently showing a loop of footage from Kerry’s past tours and old music videos. That at least made it very clear who the party was for.

“… the food is actually quite good, the booze is free, and you can be sure at least half of the people don’t wanna be there either and are ready to fuck shit up if given the chance.”

The AV landed softly, and the door slid open, V and Kerry greeted by blue and golden party lights and booming music. Kerry, who sat on the left and was closer to the door, got up first while V quickly slipped on his blazer.

“Wanna be my partner in crime tonight?” Kerry asked with a big smile, put on his sunglasses, and held out his hand.

“Always,” V grinned and took it, his heart close to bursting. They’d never been anywhere together like this, never this publicly, never so many strangers that might or might not draw conclusions, see connections, tell wrong things to the wrong people. Or maybe it would not matter or affect anything at all. That’s what he tried to continue to tell himself when he sat a shaky foot onto the black and gold carpet rolled out for them. The rooftop lounge wasn’t small, but not sprawling either, and so the landing pad was already framed by other guests curiously turning their heads. Kerry had explained that they’d likely be some of the last to arrive, so there would already be a crowd waiting to cheer and welcome them – or rather, Kerry – as the main act of the night. It was never a good sign, he'd said, to be among the first at an industry party. Then you’d be considered only part of the décor, replaceable.

V was torn between clutching Kerry’s hand even tighter or just letting go and hiding in his shadow as he led the way down the carpet towards the now cheering and applauding crowd. But Kerry made the choice for him as he held on tight, making sure he was right there by his side for everyone to see.

“Kerry, so glad to have you here,” and older, dark-skinned man – definitely not older than Kerry, but by his voice and mannerisms alone V guessed him to be in his 60s – approached them with an outstretched hand. He wore a crème and baby-blue colored suit and excessive gold jewelry – but so did almost everyone else here, too. Kerry put on his best, fakest charming smile and shook the man’s hand, and V could’ve sworn to hear their rings clink against each other over the droning music.

“Well, ‘course I’m comin’ to my own party,” Kerry said, “Really outdid yourself from the looks of it.”

A quick scan of the man’s system revealed him to be one of the infamous studio bosses V had heard so much about. “Rich” was his ironically fitting name, or Richard. Like he had guessed it he was 62 years old, twice divorced, newly engaged, in very good shape for his job and age. Most of his cyberware was only for fashion, including the golden plates framing his cheek bones and fingertips, but like almost everyone at MSM he sported custom Kiroshis with decent scanners. Probably some self-ICE and security measures, but V decided not to linger too long and dig too deep to not get caught.

“You’re one of the top five, no, top three most important artists of our label. Of course we’re gonna throw you an according party,” Rich said, “And if anything’s not to your liking, say the word.”

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Kerry grinned, “I’d like the chocolate fountains replaced with vodka and pure gold, as a start. The rest I gotta check out first.”

Both Rich and Kerry laughed, but V didn’t miss the challenging glimmer in Kerry’s eyes, as if to say “try me”. Rich smiled a bit too brightly, a bit too politely, hiding his disdain while still playing along because without artists like Kerry he surely wouldn’t be leading the life he did. V just smiled and watched the conversation with great intrigue. But then the attention shifted to him, which he would have preferred not to happen.

“Now, where’s my manners,” Rich said and held out his hand to V, “Richard Kelley, COO MSM Records.”

V smiled, took note of his own system’s warning of unauthorized scanning that his ICE caught and prevented, and shook Rich’s hand without hesitation.

“V. Thanks for the invitation,” he said.

“V…” Rich said, as he undoubtedly read through the fake dossier V had set up to be shown to anyone trying to scan him tonight, “Feel like that should ring a bell but it doesn’t, my apologies.”

“Just a nickname. Kerry thinks ‘Vincent’ is too long,” V said nonchalantly.

“It is,” Kerry chimed in, V not even sure if he played along consciously or not, “V suits ya better.”

Rich folded his hands behind his back, as if to hide his cards.

“I think I do remember you now,” he said smiling, after a short pause, “Kerry’s right hand in the Us Cracks project.”

“Could say it like that, yeah,” V lied through his teeth, “Been trying to set foot in the music industry for years. Worked my way up from being a roadie back in ’69. Lately I’ve been organizing smaller gigs here and there. Met Kerry through one of my many connections and we hit it off quite well I’d dare to say.”

“I see,” Rich smiled, surely smelling the bullshit, even though it was very close to the truth. But there was nothing he could truly say or do against it here and now without causing a scene, and V felt like he would want to avoid that while Kerry was right next to them both.

“Well then, don’t wanna keep you away from your party any longer. Enjoy.”

He stepped aside, Kerry nodded, put his arm around V and led him further into the crowd.

“The fuck just happened? Vincent?” he asked through his smile as they passed by studio workers and celebrities and their entourage. V snickered.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve missed playing games with people like him,” he said, and really, for the first 20 minutes they spent at the party he continued to ride this wave of adrenaline. A type of rush he hadn’t had in a too long time, and which was only really achievable by moving in circles like this.

“Also,” he added, “I think it’s actually gonna help our plan that he already knows me now. Is gonna make it a bit easier for Lee to set everything up how we want to.”

“Ooohhh,” Kerry nodded, “Fuck... You’re so hot when you’re all scheming… and reading people like an open book and all that crap.”

V chuckled when Kerry pulled him closer, but simultaneously his anxiety spiked. They’d gone around to shake some more studio people’s hands, met some of Kerry’s friends, producers, and had now trailed off to the bar where Kerry ordered them drinks. Something strong and boozy for himself, just a NiCola for V. V had been trying to keep track of everyone they spoke to for a potential familiar face that would recognize him and his connections to the Afterlife. Nothing so far, and paparazzi were strictly banned from the event. By accepting the invite you signed an NDA, it was that exclusive of a night. But the nagging thoughts didn’t want to leave him alone, especially when Kerry’s hand trailed down his back towards his ass, when he leaned in to kiss V’s neck, beard brushing against exposed skin.

“Wait, not… here,” he said and inched away just slightly. Kerry paused, then moved his sunglasses down just enough to be able to peer over the frame, look at V without that security barrier between them.

“At the bar, or in general on this rooftop?”

“I… dunno.”

“Just tell me and I’ll stop,” Kerry promised, “I know you’re not big on PDA. But we’re safe here, really. Thought this would be okay…”

“I know. I…” V struggled to find the right words again, “Maybe I just need some time to warm up to it all still.”

Right on cue the bartender delivered their drinks. Kerry reached over to grab both their glasses, also to give V some space. He handed him the ice-cold coke decorated with a slice of what had to be a real lemon.

“They’re really going all out, huh,” V noted as he briefly inspected the fruit and Kerry laughed.

“If you wanna we can hit the buffet. I think even the sushi is ‘ganic by the looks of it.”

“Maybe later,” V said, taking a sip, and Kerry copied him with his martini.

“My usual suggestion would be ‘have a drink’ but that sadly doesn’t work with you,” he said, with an added, “No offense.”

“None taken,” V shook his head, “Besides, I’m pumped full of meds that shouldn’t be combined with alcohol anyway.”

“A shit, right…”

“Just… gimme a little more time, alright? I’m happy to be here, havin’ a good time. Sure it’ll get better from here.”

“Okay,” Kerry smiled, reached out and hooked his pinky finger around V’s, a tiny gesture that meant so much between them at this point. A way to connect when they were out in public, discreetly, a small reassurance of “I respect your boundaries” while also saying “glad you’re here with me”. The smallest “I love you”. It did indeed help calm V’s nerves a little bit.

Drinks in hand they continued to mingle with the crowd. Most of the time V just listened to the conversations, not minding at all to be merely embellishment to Kerry’s big night. In fact, his pride grew with every encounter. If only half of the praise Kerry received was true, Rich hadn’t been so off with calling him one of the top three of MSM’s most important artists. No way to compete against Us Cracks at the moment, obviously, but there was no need to. Though Kerry seemed glad that they were on their world tour still and somewhere in Japan at the moment. Or so he thought, at least.

At one point during the night the studio bosses gave a short speech in front of the large screen. As they indulged in the worst self-adulation V had ever heard outside of a Counterintel meeting room, Kerry whispered to him about how he’d known most of the label bosses since they were teenage brats throwing around their family’s money.

“Insane how little some things and people change,” Kerry muttered between his teeth, face so close to V’s that his breath brushed across his neck and made him shiver pleasantly. V smiled at him, and discreetly, as everyone’s eyes were glued at the screen and the bosses, took and squeezed his hand and leaned against him.

Then “Shivers” was played to the audience officially for the first time, and even though V had been there for most of its creation process, hearing the final, polished version in full length was still a special moment he was glad to be able to share with Kerry. The presentation was followed by more praise and the crowd eventually slowly dissolved again to continue partying.

Kerry led a few more conversations with other musicians and producers about the creation process of his song. He enjoyed the attention very obviously, glowing and eagerly answering any and all questions he was asked, even if often not overly detailed. V loved listening to his thought process of writing and recording the song to a young and new producer particularly though. Praise was nice and all, but talking to someone on a technical level was what Kerry was best at. All of a sudden though, in the middle of explaining something in regard to the BPM, he froze up. His eyes had darted to the AV landing pad and his words trailed off like a spilled drink when three colorfully dressed young women exited their cab.

“For fuck’s sake…” Kerry muttered, then he turned to V, “Let’s delta.”

“What?” V snickered, but Kerry took his hand, excused himself out of the conversation, and led him to the edge of the rooftop lounge. They were between a row of golden glowing fake bamboo lamps and the tarps hiding any unsightly parts of the building from the prestigious party guests. The Us Cracks girls had reached the center of the party area already and were swarmed by admirers in no time.

“Kerry, they left their tour just to be here for your big night,” V teased, but Kerry just sighed deeply, squirming and restless.

“I knooow,” he said, voice whiny, “And like… I’m cool with them ‘n all. I don’t mind them bein’ here, and it’s a big gesture and whatnot. It’s cool, they’re cool, we’re cool!”

“But?” V tilted his head.

Kerry sighed and made a face, looked away as if he was embarrassed.

“They’re fucking exhausting! There, I said it!” it then burst out of him, and he shrugged dramatically, “I don’t get half the references they’re making! Kerry-san this, Kerry-san that… All that fuckin’ kawaii-talk makes my dick shrivel up!”

V snorted.

“They make you feel old, huh?”

Kerry raised a finger in warning.

“Thin ice, Vince,” he said, not entirely serious. Then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

“But… yeah.”

“Awww,” V cupped Kerry’s face, stepped closer, quickly made sure no one was immediately nearby… then gave him a quick kiss.

“That make it better?”

Kerry pouted.

“Not yet.”

“Hmm,” V hummed, his heart beating faster now. He learned in again, lips lingering longer now, the slightest tease of tongue, and he noticed how Kerry melted into his touch a bit more this time.

“And now?” he whispered, looking Kerry in the eyes, their faces still close.

“Alright fine,” Kerry muttered, but V noted the slight curl at the corners of his mouth. For a moment he almost wondered if Kerry was the one playing him now, but he brushed the thought aside. Kerry sighed deeply, grabbed V’s hand for support once more, and V joined him to face the new arrivals to the party.

“Kerry-san!!” Blue Moon already squealed from afar, frantically waving in their direction, and Kerry groaned only loud enough for V to hear it.

The crowd cleared a path for the three pop idols as they scurried over, screeching and seemingly prepared to jump onto Kerry all at once, but just in time they slowed down and the tackle turned into a regular group hug.

“Wow, that’s a… real surprise!” Kerry exclaimed with badly feigned excitement, “You really didn’t need to come just for this one night.”

“But of course we had to!” Purple Force nodded excitedly.

“MSM organized a direct priority flight from and to Tokyo just so we could be here!” Red Menace added.

All three of them were dressed in the same style of latex-and-sequin cocktail dresses that seemed inspired by kimonos. They were decorated with enormous sparkling bows and virtual petals fell wherever the girls walked. Of course all color-coordinated in their usual red, purple, and blue, as if it was hard to tell them apart otherwise. V realized just how much pressure there had to be on them to always stay on brand like that, but at the same time, if they minded it, they were good at hiding it.

“V, OMG, you’re here too!” Blue Moon exclaimed as if she’d only just realized he was here with them, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. All night he’d been worried about someone attending the party that knew he did merc work. And here they were, squeezing him into a group hug.

“Hey, it’s great to see you again,” V said in Japanese, downplaying his newly onset bout of nervousness.

He elicited an excited squeal from the girls, and a lot of chattering and a very quick summary of all they’d been up to since their last in-person meeting.

“Oooohh, are you Kerry-san’s new bodyguard now?” Red Menace then asked as if realization struck her only now that this wasn’t V’s typical surroundings, too.

“Oooooohhh, no, wait!” Blue Moon interrupted her, mouth and eyes wide.

Before V or Kerry could even say anything, glancing back and forth between the two of them, she squealed.

“I’m so excited! Are you dating?”

The other two joined in with their cooing and noises of excitement and various onomatopoeia underlining just how excited they truly were, and even V started to feel old now.

“Alright, c’mon, dial it back,” Kerry urged them, but at the same time he smiled, a hint of pride in his voice.

“You are though! That makes me so happy!” Purple Force exclaimed, hands clutched, and Blue Moon leaned in closer to V.

“Back then, before ‘Off the Leash’, we saw how you two looked at each other. We’ve been rooting for you from the start!”

V wasn’t sure how to react to an out-of-the-blue statement like that.

“Oh, c’mon now…” Kerry groaned.

“We suggested Kerry pick his favorite venue for our concert, and we made sure that he’d invite you!” Red Menace said.

“And made sure the paparazzi would be occupied talking to us, so you’d have some time for yourselves,” Purple Force added, flicking her head as if to wink… just not being able to physically wink with her huge, bug-like Kiroshis.

“Is that so…” V said, side-eyeing Kerry, “He never mentioned that.”

“Awww, Kerry-san,” the girls said almost in unison as they went in for another group hug, this time targeting them both at once, “We’re so happy things turned out like this for you!”

Kerry though was more than happy when they finally, finally were called away by their manager to meet some other studio people, giving him and V some room to breathe again.

“I need another drink or ten,” he said, and V laughed, looking at his phone briefly. Before the girls left, he’d asked them for another selfie, all five of them together this time, and they obviously agreed. He sent it to Panam, not sure when she’d see it as contact was still somewhat sporadic. He attached a little “believe me now that I know them? :P”

Then he accompanied Kerry back to the bar.

“Did I get that right, what they said earlier?” he decided to ask, leaving no room for misunderstandings, “They wanted to set us up?”

Kerry scoffed and played with his glass, but then he took off his sunglasses and put them down on the counter. They stood facing each other, but both still had a good view of the crowd. The music was getting louder and heavier on the dance tunes as the night went on. More and more people gathered on the dancefloor surrounding the DJ.

“Maybe… Just maybe,” Kerry then said, “I had a little crush on you then. But apparently, they had to point it out to me first. Made me grow a pair to invite you and plan that whole date like that.”

“Aww,” V smiled, “You didn’t realize you had a crush? I was pretty sure I did, I just didn’t think I had a chance with you.”

Kerry finally looked up from his drink and grinned.

“I thought…” he started slowly, quietly, “You’d think I’m too old. And, y’know, all that emotional baggage and chaos my life was… and still is.”

He paused to look around at the crowd. So many people, most of them probably from similar and higher circles that V grew up in, and far far away from the small standing Kerry worked his way up from over decades. Surely, they all had their rich inner lives and demons to face as well, but V could see the disdain in Kerry’s eyes, still, even after being a part of this world for longer than he hadn’t been. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked back at V.

“You were the realest, most genuine person I’d met in years, decades maybe,” he said, voice soft, “So yeah. Once I realized that, I fell hard, and fast. And fuck yeah, maybe I asked the girls for some advice here and there, ‘cause at least you’re all born in the same fuckin’ century.”

Then he downed his drink in one go and ordered the next right away.

V let this little confession sit for a couple of moments before taking Kerry’s hands and stepping closer.

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” he said quietly, “That’s actually pretty sweet.”

Kerry scoffed but smiled.

“Didn’t know you were concerned about me potentially thinking you’re too old,” he added, “If anything, I thought ‘what would he want with a dying 20-somethin-year-old’. Let alone with one possessed by the digital ghost of his dead ex-bandmate.”

Kerry chuckled.

“Would lie if I said that the Johnny-thing didn’t matter at first. In the sense that… Man, how do I say it without soundin’ like a complete gonkhead.”

He looked down to their interlaced fingers, gently rubbing V’s knuckles with his thumb.

“Try me. Nothin’ that can really shock me anymore,” V assured him. Kerry hummed.

“At first I thought, hell yeah, another chance with Johnny,” he began slowly, “Not even in the sense of like… y’know? Really just one last gig, for old time’s sake. Maybe finally get to tell him to go fuck himself for trying to keep me in his shadow like that. For all the shit he said, stealin my songs, my ideas, playin’ with me, shittin’ on me over and over again.”

Then he looked back up at V, pensive still.

“But then I realized… fuck Johnny, he doesn’t matter. ‘Cause there was you, shinin’ through the shadows of our past… and I wanted you so badly, but you only came as a package deal. And that sucked so hard.”

“Made you hesitate to make a move?” V asked, listening intently, not moving from where he stood. None of this was news to V, it had always been there in the subtext of their love story that Johnny was a deciding factor in how it would all work out or not.

“’Cause sure as hell made me hesitate as well. That he was there ‘n all,” he decided to add, and Kerry tilted his head slightly. Not sad, but nodding, understanding.

“’Outta all the guys in NC, you gotta pick my best friend’, day in day out,” V recounted, mocking Johnny’s voice and accent, “’At least he finally gets to fuck me now by fuckin’ you’ and crap like that.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kerry sighed, “I can assure you, not fuckin’ once did I even waste a thought on him when we, like…”

“It’s okay,” V laughed, “Even if so, doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah… it really didn’t matter anymore,” Kerry reminisced again, smiling. He let go of V’s hand, fingers trailing up his arm, now cupping his cheek, caressing his jawline. V’s heart was racing, head spinning, but then he leaned into the soft touch.

“Not since you walked down the stairs by the stage at Dark Matter. Pushed your way through the crowd like none of them mattered either…” Kerry said, “And you stole me away. Made my old, half-dead heart, feel somethin’ again.”

V smiled, couldn’t really say anything at the sight of Kerry’s glistening eyes, the fine lines curling at their corners as he smiled, colorful lights dancing on, refracted from the gold on his cheeks and neck and chest.

“Love ya,” he just said quietly. It was all that he managed.

“Love ya, too, so much, V, I can’t tell you,” Kerry said, “Permission to fuckin’ kiss you now, in front of the whole damn label?”

V hesitated, but then nodded, and Kerry didn’t waste a millisecond to pull him into a heartfelt, passionate kiss. With every lick of his tongue, every nibble on his lips, a bit of V’s tension melted away, and he let himself fall into Kerry’s embrace, tasting the harshness of vodka mixed with smoke while his hands and caresses were so gentle against V’s skin.

Just slowly they pulled away from each other, and only far enough to catch their breath. V rested his hand on Kerry’s chest, fingers trailing along the golden, engraved plate decorating his sternum.

“So,” he slowly started, “Would you say I made your heart go ‘dokidoki’ when I walked down the stairs after your show back then?”

“Wow,” Kerry exclaimed with genuine disappointment, and V laughed, “Way to ruin a moment, V.”

He wasn’t truly upset though, just shook his head, and a whispered “fuckin’ gonk” was followed by another kiss.

The next song on the DJ’s tracklist let V toss the rest of his caution into the wind.

/My reflection/

/In this broken mirror/

/Is a program/

/In my head/

“Oh fuck yeah, they’re digging out the good stuff finally… no offense!” V laughed when Kerry frowned deeply.

“Yeah, just keep beating the old man down, go on! See what happens!”

“I’m sorry, babe, didn’t mean it like that,” V was still laughing, but Kerry also smiled when V took his hand and began pulling him towards the music, “Dance with me to make up for it?”

He didn’t have to ask Kerry twice and right when the first “Makes me feel better” echoed across the rooftops of Charter Hill they had become one with the glittering, glamorous crowd on the dance floor.

Not too close, but close enough so it was clear to everyone that they were here together, Kerry and V spent the rest of the DJ set dancing, letting go of anxiety and tension, until they were both thoroughly disheveled, sweaty, and out of breath. As the night progressed V was served reminder after reminder that his car accident wasn’t that far in the past, nor was the Crystal Palace gig for Blue Eyes. His ribs were hurting, and his elevated heartrate and exhaustion flushed his painkillers and other meds through his system much quicker than he would have liked. A short break was more than welcome. Kerry led him to a different corner of the lounge now, the familiar comfortable armchairs forming a cozy nook not too far off from the action of the night. They had a good view to the large video screen, this moment showing Kerry in his early 40s, still at the start of his solo career, running and jumping around on a large stadium stage.

“C’mere,” Kerry said laughing and out of breath as he pulled V down into one of the larger chairs, right onto his lap. They weren’t exactly alone, but everyone else in the lounge area was busy with their own conversations or amorous endeavors and paid them no mind.

“You good?” Kerry made sure when V slumped against his chest and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, really good,” V said, “But also really tired.”

Kerry kissed V’s forehead.

“If you wanna go home I’ll let them know and the AV’s ready in 5 minutes.”

V bit his lip.

“You gonna carry my over to the landing pad bridal style?”

Kerry snickered.

“I’ll do anything you wanna,” he purred.

“I’m listening…”

“Startin’ to think you’ve been sneakin’ some whiskey in that NiCola the whole evening,” Kerry teased but V laughed and shook his head. A distant throbbing at the base of his skull was another reminder to better take it slow for the rest of the night.

“No, I’m just… really glad I came. Didn’t realize how much I missed this. Haven’t really been out partying since…”

He had to really consider it for a moment.

“Probably since before Jackie died,” he realized and his stomach dropped, “Since then it was always just surviving, not living. Still is, most days, right now even, if you really think about it.”

Kerry hummed.

“Did I kill the mood?” V asked somewhat concerned and opened his eyes again.

“No, no, not at all,” Kerry assured him, watched him closely, “But I agree. Didn’t realize how much I missed this, too like… bein’ out partying with someone I care about, not just one of many people trying to numb themselves. It’s been a real good night. And I hope there’s many more to come.”

“For sure,” V smiled, trying to convince himself, heeding Fuentes’ words that even though it sounded unlikely, positive thinking had a measurable impact on the effectiveness of any healing process, blah, blah, blah… He decided to banish any thoughts of the Med Center or the Afterlife from his head for the rest of the night.

They just lingered in the lounge chair a bit longer, listening to the crowd and the music as the night around them grew colder, and occasionally Kerry reminisced, recalled an interesting anecdote about one of the scenes they had picked for the throwback reel still playing. V enjoyed resting in his arms now, so closely, their fingers interlocked, and barely flinched when someone looked in their direction or walked by. Kerry had grown quieter as the videos began to repeat, and instead they now watched the colorful crowd. Just moments before he almost suggested to leave, V spotted a familiar silvery head of hair among all the people and was instantly wide-awake again.

“Oh fuck,” he perked up, alerting an already half-dozed-off Kerry, “Is that Slavoj McAllister?”

Kerry followed his gaze.

“Yeah, looks like it!” he confirmed calmly, “Been wondering if he’s even here, the Duelists are on tour as well.”

V didn’t respond, just stared at McAllister, dressed in an ensemble of dark blue leather and white faux-fur, and also sporting his iconic, extra-large silver sunglasses of course.

“Want me to call him over?” Kerry asked, and V turned to look at him, not missing the teasing tone in his voice.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, playing it a little too cool after his first excitement, “I’m just. It’s neat that he’s here, is all.”

“You’re fucking star-struck, ain’t ya,” Kerry shook his head, “You weren’t nearly half as flustered when I stood in front of you in just my bathrobe, patting your cheek.”

“Oh, shut up,” V muttered but didn’t exactly make it any better this way. Kerry knew exactly that V had had a huge crush on McAllister when he was a teen, room plastered with posters of the Cartesian Duelists. And he was also more than happy to express his disdain about how his “rival’s” (they were friends, actually) music was played in their home more often than his own whenever he had the chance.

“C’mon, I’ll introduce ya. Never gonna get a chance like this again anytime soon,” Kerry said and wiggled free from under V, who continued to protest.

“No, Kerry, wait! I don’t wanna fuckin’… he’s here to party, not to entertain fans.”

“Technically he’s here to stroke my ego, so I stroke his next time he releases a new song,” Kerry brushed him off and finally managed to get up from the chair, already began to walk into McAllister’s direction, “He won’t mind.”

“Oh fuck…” V panicked but in the end Kerry was right. No time like the present.

He got up and followed with some distance.

“Heeeey, Mr. Makes-Me-Feel-Better!” Kerry called loudly to get the other musician’s attention, and V cringed just slightly.

“Aaahh, Mr. Shivers, been wondering where you’ve been hidin’ all evening,” McAllister said with his simultaneously raspy yet ethereal voice. V’s head started spinning aagin when he watched them shake hands and give each other a brief hug and pat on the back.

“Great work with that song, Kerry, gotta give ya that,” McAllister said, “The bassline leading up to the chorus? Preem detail, your idea?”

“Fuckin’ course,” Kerry nodded.

“Thought so, thought so. Vikki was probably all like ‘hm, not sure that’s gonna work darlin’, how ‘bout we keep it a bit simpler for the brainless masses payin’ our bills?’”

V was impressed how well he imitated the producer’s voice and demeanor; he was actually quite mesmerized by seeing his idol talk so casually in general. He’d been to many concerts, obviously knew all the music videos, interviews and whatnot. But a celebrity in a casual conversation with a friend was rare and uncanny, this up close and in real life, not with the barrier of a screen or braindance wreath between them.

“All that aside, I’d like to introduce ya to someone,” Kerry said and turned to V, who only just managed to not freeze up completely. He took a deep breath and swallowed down his anxiety.

“This is V,” Kerry said and with gentle force pulled V closer, “V, Slavoj McAllister.”

In person he seemed even taller than V knew he was. Briefly he only admired his outfit, some sort of one-piece body suit with a matching coat. For sure a Jinguji custom design going by the intricate seams and many sleek little details and interesting textures that accentuated the singer’s body, a half-opened zipper exposing his large chest tattoo and neck cyberware.

“Nice to meet ya, V,” McAllister said and held out his hand. This was the exact moment 16-year-old V would’ve had tragically passed away. 28-year-old V though actually managed to keep it together and took McAllister’s hand.

“Likewise! An honor, really, I’m a big fan,” he said, trying to downplay his excitement just somewhat.

“Aahh, preem,” McAllister said, “Haven’t got anything to sign with me, but just say the word, Kerry and I gotta spend a lil’ more time together anyway.”

“Do we now? What did I miss?”

“Dunno, just a feelin,” McAllister shrugged, “Feel like we could create somethin’ preem together – ain’t it weirder that we haven’t done somethin’ together yet?”

V’s thoughts trailed off in all sorts of directions at “doing something together”, but none of them had anything to do with making music anymore.

“Maybe that’s how I get him to play more of my music at home,” Kerry said, pulling V’s thoughts out of his fantasies, “Slap a ‘feat. Slavoj McAllister’ onto them.”

“I mean…” V said slowly, “I think it could work.”

There was a brief pause in which McAllister looked at them both intensely – at least V guessed he did, as he couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. Then he put two and two together.

“Aaahhh… You’re dating? Nova, happy for ya,” he just nodded, as if the whole conversation wasn’t surreal enough already, “Y’know, I’m still enjoyin’ my freedom, unbound and just vibin’, makin’ music. It’s the best damn thing.”

“Yeah, really can be,” Kerry nodded, “Happy for ya, too choom. Keep rockin’.”

“You, too. Excited already to hear the rest of the album,” McAllister said and shook Kerry’s hand again. Then he turned to V.

“V, got a favorite Duelists song?”

V was this close to asking Kerry to pinch him.

“Hard to choose just one, but with a gun to my head… gotta say ‘Kill the Messenger’.”

McAllister motioned a finger gun with his right hand at V and fired it, before shifting and just holding it out normally for a handshake. V was utterly mesmerized and hoped he wasn’t staring with his mouth open. He wouldn’t notice it anymore at this point.

“Preem, noted. One of my personal faves, too. Your boy’s got taste Kerry, just sayin’,” and with that he shook V’s hand.

“Oh, I know. That’s why he’s mine.”

McAllister laughed, nodded at them, then slowly trailed off, floated away almost, and let his gaze wander across the crowd as if he truly cared for none of them and his job here was done.

“I think I just had a fuckin’ stroke,” V said, still holding out his hand that McAllister shook, and Kerry laughed.

“C’mon, think it’s time to get you home and to bed.”

“Good plan,” V sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.

About an hour later they were finally home. They’d said goodbye to the Us Cracks girls, then Lee ran into them to almost ruin an otherwise perfect evening, but thankfully the encounter was brief.

V downed his nightly dose of meds, then plopped down onto their bed, face-first, and let out the longest, happiest sigh he was still capable of.

Kerry laughed and joined him, and V shuffled to look at him, even though he could barely keep his eyes open anymore. He reached over, ran his fingers through Kerry’s beard, the moonlight reflecting from the many little grey hairs particularly beautifully this moment.

“My pretty old man,” he said quietly and Kerry chuckled and put his hand on V’s, not to stop him, just touching, connecting with him. Then they just laid like this for a while, gently caressing and touching, but for more they were both too exhausted. But just this was just as nice.

“Thanks for convincing me to come,” V eventually whispered, when he felt like he was just about to drift to sleep.

“Thanks for letting me convince you,” Kerry smiled, “Should do that more often.”

“Yeah, I know… Will do.”

Then his eyes fell shut, and he could still feel the beat of the music, the rush and the joy. He dozed off to visions and memories of dancing and laughing with Kerry that he’d hold dear and cherish for the rest of his life.

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

>> Next Chapter

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Notes:

This was a long one but such a fun one I had also really been looking forward to writing \o/ I hope you had fun at the fancy MSM party, too. Originally the plan was to include a spicy scene as well, but that may have to wait for the next chapter 👀 otherwise I'd have probably cracked the 10,000 words mark xD

Also, thanks so much you all for reading this story and sticking around for over a year now as I keep writing and updating it at my own little pace! I hope this time next year it's gonna be finished or close to it :D Vince and Kerry mean so much to me by now, and I never stuck with a longfic, well, this long. Excited to continue and finish this!

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[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter 3

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Marcus and Amy share lunch. JUST lunch. WC: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, alluding to male masturbation, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 2 >>> Part 4

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

----

Amy Oliver prefers a turkey sandwich, light on the mayo but extra mustard. The spicy kind, if she can get it. She likes provolone cheese but won’t turn her nose up at a good sharp cheddar. No tomato but lettuce is a must. And never, ever forget the pickle. Marcus knows it’s pointless to show his face without the pickle. 

He orders her two; another pitiful attempt to say thank you. 

Or maybe I’m sorry.

He grabs one of the cellophane-wrapped brownies sitting at the register to split the difference.

Lunch in hand, Marcus heads in the direction of the police station, his pace faltering as he speeds up and slows down, anxious to be back in Amy’s presence but less than thrilled at the circumstance. Running into her and Harris at the grocery store had been a happy accident; a coincidence of serendipity he never would have dreamed of recreating. He had planned on calling her on Monday, feigning the same story about forgotten glasses and needing to stop by for them, hoping the inflection of his voice through the phone would be enough to convey his request. 

But then her shopping cart slammed into his hip, knocking all sense free from his head. He had been hopelessly distracted by her from the get go, her smile easy, her laughter bright. Her hair was free, falling down around her shoulders in soft waves, a rare sight from the swept back ponytail she wore at work. When she dipped her head he had practically mangled the tortillas he had been holding to keep from brushing the tips of his finger through the soft fall of hair around her cheeks. 

For a moment it had been so domestic; a cart full of groceries, Harris waving shyly behind her mom while Missy rolled her eyes at the jarred salsa. In the blink of an eye, the two girls were quickly bonding over sugary cereals and granola bars. Marcus and Amy watched from the sidelines, the warmth of her shoulder a breath away, and so easily stealing the air from his lungs. 

Alone in his bed that night he let his imagination run away from him, picturing afternoons spent just like that one, running errands together as a family of four, coming home to a house they shared, cooking dinner together while the girls finished their homework. It only snowballed from there. Tucking Harris into bed in a room she helped him paint. Bidding Missy goodnight as she heads out to see her friends. Falling into a bed he and Amy called theirs. 

He woke up the next morning hard and leaking, a groan burned into the roof of his mouth. Before he could stop himself he was giving in, wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself hard and fast until he was spilling into his hand, Amy’s face dancing at the blackened corners of his vision. 

Afterward, he stood in the shower until the water ran cold and his skin turned to ice, a pitiful attempt to wash away this newest layer of guilt.

Now he was standing outside the precinct, clutching at the brown paper bag that was more ruse than offering, trying to remind himself that friends like Amy didn’t come along very often. It certainly wouldn’t do either of them any good to jeopardize what they have. It was already on fragile enough ground, Marcus’s own selfish needs (unspoken or not) taking the front seat yet again. 

But he couldn’t stop his mind from circling back to Miracle Guy's words. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing that he wanted more than friendship. And maybe it was possible that she wanted more too. He goes around and around and around again, and it’s only when the clock finally ticks over to 12, that he works up the courage to walk into the station, his eyes glued to Amy Oliver and no one else. 

——

“Hey, stranger.” 

Marcus greets her with the same smile he always does, sweet sincerity, and only the smallest hint of worry. He’s always masked his fears well, and Amy thinks maybe if she didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him so well she would probably miss it. 

“Hey! Do you have a meeting with Baldwin today?” 

She fumbles with her mouse for a second, clicking over to the calendar attached to her email, shooting Marcus a sheepish look that’s probably a hair over the top. “I could have sworn I double-checked his schedule for the day.” 

“No, no! This is just a pop-in!” Marcus promises, his reassuring hand wave matching her frantic acting skills. “I actually can’t find my glasses. These are my spares,” he repeats the lie from the grocery store. “I think I left them here, maybe?” 

She nods as if it’s the first time she’s hearing the farce, before pulling open the bottom drawer of her desk where the lost and found box waits. She hears the paper bag Marcus had been clutching hit her desk as she rummages through the box of junk, counting backward from 50 as she does. When she hits 1 she sits back up, with a shake of her head. 

“They’re not in the lost and found. But we can take a look around the precinct after lunch if you like?” 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, but his attention has already moved on, eyes cheating between where he carefully empties the brown paper bag – the familiar logo of their favorite deli on the front – and the large box sitting by her feet. Neither mentions it for the time being, instead digging into the spread Marcus brought with him.

“Harris has not stopped asking about Missy since last week,” she shares through a mouthful of chips, remembering how just this morning her daughter had gone into a 10-minute monologue about the older girl as Amy prepared her breakfast.

“Missy will be over the moon to hear it. I remember when she was Harris’s age. Her only request for two years running was for a baby sister.”

“Did you ever wish you guys had more? A whole gaggle of Morenos?” Amy asks, folding her legs up under herself before reaching for her sandwich.

“Sometimes,” Marcus shrugs, taking a bite of his own sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. “It never panned out.”

He doesn’t parrot the question back to her; something he knows would be pointless, at least partially acquainted with the story of Harris’s father being very much out of the picture. Still, she’s grateful for his perception, and the subject easily shifts to other things, the two of them trading stories back and forth about the girls, Marcus’s newest tv show binge, and Amy’s current bedtime reading.

“I can’t believe you’re reading a movie novel.” 

“No! It’s a Star Wars novel set in the high republic. Totally different.”

“Yes, I see that,” Marcus teases but Amy is undeterred. 

She nudges his knee with the press of her fingertips. “Please tell me that extra pickle is for me?”

He laughs, loud and deep, pushing the second of three pickles toward her.

“I grabbed you a brownie too.”

It's such a small thing. Silly, really. A cheap brownie wrapped in plastic sitting innocently between the sandwiches and pickles and cans of off-brand soda. But still, it sends a flutter through her stomach that Marcus really did think of everything. She’s about to say thank you when the sound of Derek’s office door opening pulls her attention away, his eyes landing on the picnic spread across her desk. 

“Jeez, Moreno,” he smirks, his light tone belying the sharp cut of his gaze. “Can’t treat a girl to a real restaurant?”

“Ignore him,” Amy fires back, her own smirk forming around her last bite of turkey and cheese. “The chief is just mad that he has to hand over a few cases to the special crimes unit today.”

Baldwin doesn’t rise to the jab except to grumble out ‘classified,’ instead turning towards the coffee pot to refill the mug he brought out of his office with him. He takes a long, loud swallow before turning back around to look at Amy.

“I have a few things I want to go over before the meeting today. When your date is over, come find me.”

That one word lands like a grenade between them and despite having been teased endlessly about this very subject, Amy still feels her face heat up like a furnace. Marcus continues to eat, seemingly impervious to her boss’s not-so-subtle joke, but she can see the soft dusting of pink along his cheeks. The very same blush she had admired between the aisles of a grocery store when his hands made contact with her own. 

She’d be a goddamn liar if she didn’t admit how good it sounded to hear that word tied so easily to the man sitting across from her. It was only getting harder to resist the desires that made a home inside her heart regarding Marcus Moreno. 

His eyes find her own and he gives her the briefest of winks before he hides behind a sip of soda. Before she can let her mind linger on the meaning behind any of it, Derek’s door closes with a snap, breaking the moment apart.   

“Hey,” Amy starts, refusing to let anything awkward settle between them, “before we look around for your glasses can you do me a favor?”

“As if I’d say no to the woman who makes my coffee on a regular basis.”

She hums softly, but when she looks up, it’s to Marcus’s gaze still fixed on her, his smile soft, his eyes warm. She feels herself slipping beneath his stare, the carefully placed border around her heart cracking in time with each breath she pulls in. But all too quickly she remembers why he’s here and her part to play.

“The box…,” she falters, gesturing pathetically at her feet, “this box. It’s heavy. Think you could carry it down to the file room with me?”

Marcus swallows, the length of his throat bobbing up and down with the effort, and then he’s nodding and standing, the large box lifted as if it weighs nothing at all. Amy makes quick work of the mess on her desk, paper wrappers, and empty chip bags swept into her small garbage can before standing herself and leading Marcus down the familiar set of stairs. 

——

A date.

Baldwin had called it a date.

It was an obvious jab, probably intended to tease Amy and irritate Marcus all in one go. But the only thought in Marcus’s head the minute he heard it was how good it sounded. How the very idea of a date with Amy Oliver filled his chest with that familiar thrill of butterflies that had him grinning like an idiot. The feeling only increased tenfold when she didn’t dispute her boss’s words, her own cheeks stained pink, her bottom lip snared between her teeth. 

It would have been so easy to take a chance then and there. Test the waters and ask for the more he had been craving for what felt like years now. But before he could summon something more than a silly wink born out of nerves, Amy was clearing her throat and picking up the little game they had been playing, casually asking him to help with a heavy box. 

They’ve done this one before. Multiple times in fact. Amy was a pro at phrasing the question perfectly; always able to strike the perfect balance between wanting the superhero to help with a big heavy box without once coming across as weak. Sometimes Marcus wondered if she asked one of the officers to help her with these things when he wasn’t around. That particular train of thought usually brought about a flare of jealousy that bordered on possessive, and he did his best to ignore those feelings altogether.

They moved down the stairs as a unit, Marcus always two steps behind Amy, pretending like always, that he didn’t know the way to the file room by heart. Once they were inside she was quick to close the door behind them, kicking a few empty boxes in front of it. Just in case. 

“So which cases are you guys handing over to special crimes?”

“Funnily enough, the same ones you were asking about last week.”

“No wonder he’s so annoyed.” 

Amy laughs at that, muffling the sound behind the press of her hand. “I swear he almost looked like he wanted to ask for your help up there as a hail mary.”

“Pffff, sure. And afterward, we can all ice skate home because hell would have certainly frozen over,” Marcus grins, all too amused at his own joke. 

“Fair point,” she agrees, surveying the shelves, the tip of her finger jumping from box to box. “Of course, he still can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. I…um,” she falters, her head ducking low, the tips of her ears burning red. “...calling it a date. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

Amy whips around at his words, eyes wide and lips parted, something like disbelief coloring her features. Marcus thinks maybe she says his name, a whispered plea though what she’s asking for he isn’t sure. Not yet anyway. He waits patiently, tracing her features in the low light hanging up above, and in his patience, he is rewarded with her own confession.

“Me either.”

It happens slowly, then all at once. The box slips from his hands, the sound of it hitting the ground lost in the rapid beat of his heart, the heavy breath in his lungs. He moves in closer, each step taken slowly, allowing Amy time to move away. In what feels like hours and yet still only seconds, his chest is pressed to her, the tips of her fingers reaching out to brush his own. Marcus can’t help himself, indulging in the ability to admire her up close, tendrils of brown falling down to frame her cheek, dark eyelashes curving up in a flutter, and the tiniest slip of her tongue as she licks at her lips. 

He lingers there, unable to look away from the plush pink of her lips, wondering, even now, what it would be like to take this final step. Amy moves in, just a breath closer, her nose nudging gently into his own, her gaze cheating down to his lips. It’s almost inevitable now, their fingers just starting to tangle, her breath warm where it meets his, the space between them slowly starting to disappear with the passing of each and every second. He could lean in now, and she could meet him, finally giving into something that has been ignored so steadily.

But just as he does, his forehead falling forward and her chin tilting up, there is the familiar sound of steps on stairs. Before Marcus can register reality, Amy’s warmth is gone, the space in front of him heartbreakingly empty, and the door behind him is banging open, the sound of Derek Baldwin stealing their moment away.

“Hey, Oliver, you got time to notarize something for me?”

She keeps her eyes on Marcus as she nods, the tips of her fingers pressed squarely to her mouth, longing and regret stretching out between them. 

“Um…yeah. Yes, sir.” 

“Thanks! I’ll meet you upstairs.”

When the last of Baldwin’s steps fade back up the stairs and they’re alone again Marcus moves, but only half a step before he stops himself. The moment is suddenly lost and he doesn’t know how to recapture it, and he hates it even more, how far away she’s standing. After a few minutes, she shakes her head and takes another step back, half a smile pulling her lips.

“I can probably buy you 10 minutes. What you’re looking for should be in the box you carried down.”

And because he doesn’t know what else to say, he says, “Thank you.”

And just like always, Amy shrugs and answers back, “For what?”

------

Part 2 >>> Part 4

Thank you to everyone reading this silly little story. I know I’ve said this before but I have had the best time writing it. It’s brought me genuine joy and I’m so enjoying sharing it with everyone. 🖤

As always, the biggest thanks to my love @jazzelsaur who has been patient and supportive as I screech about these two idiots.

[merrybrides]

DIY: Summer Citrus Sugar Scrub

Rejuvenate and revive your skin with this easy citrus sugar scrub recipe. With only 3 ingredients you probably already have on hand, you’ll be ready to whip up this gentle exfoliating body scrub in no time! 

Sugar Scrub, or body polish is a luxurious way to refresh your skin. It is so gentle that it can even be used on sensitive skin. 

Exfoliating body scrub makes a great shower favor, quick gift, treat for yourself or a hostess gift when you are welcomed to a friend’s beach house.  This jar will keep my skin happy all summer long!

Keep a jar of this sugar scrub by your kitchen to soothe your hands after washing dishes. It will rehydrate your skin from the harshness of the hot water and dish soap. Keep a jar of sugar scrub in the shower for a mini spa treatment up to 3 times a week! 

Citrus Sugar Scrub Recipe Ingredients

It’s made with just a few ingredients, from your kitchen!

Sugar – 1/2 cup of regular white table sugar is perfect for this diy sugar scrub! It exfoliates your skin, gentling rubbing away dead skin cells leaving your skin feeling smooth and radiant. 

Oil – I use 1/4 cup Vitamin E Oil in this recipe which is so good for your skin. Its anti inflammatory properties soothes and calms, while hydrating dry skin and working to heal any blemishes. 

Citrus – Is so good for your body inside and out! Naturally full of vitamin C it leaves your skin with a beautiful glow! It also can help to lighten sun spots or other blemishes on your skin. I love the texture and beautiful color the citrus adds along with its amazingly refreshing scent!  You can use the zest from one Orange, Grapefruit, or Lemon, or 2 Limes, in this recipe.

*** Zest is made from the top layer of a fruit peel. Always try to avoid the white pith. If you don’t have a zester, you can use a vegetable peeler to gently peel the top layer of your fruit. Then cut the strips into finer strips lengthwise, and then again into tiny cubes widthwise. 

Supplies

Large Glass Mixing Bowl

Handheld Citrus Zester (variations under Tips and Tricks)

Spatula

Measuring Cups

Sealable Glass Jars (I like to use mason jars or repurpose clean jars I already own)

Ice Cream Scoop

How to Make Exfoliating Body Scrub

This scrub is so easy to make. It only contains natural ingredients and no artificial food colorings.

Combine sugar and oil.

2. Add zest.

3. Scoop into sealable glass jars.

4. Label and date.

5. Store for up to 3 months in an airtight container.

Variations

This sugar scrub recipe is so easy to customize to fit your needs! 

Citrus Variations – In this recipe I use orange, but any other citrus would work well! In the past, I have used grapefruit, orange, lime, and lemon. They all have worked wonderfully! If using lime I chose to use the zest from 2 limes since they are smaller sized fruit.

Oil Variations – Vitamin E Oil, Coconut Oil, Olive Oil, Almond Oil, Carrot Oil, Argan Oil, Jojoba Oil, and Grapeseed Oil. 

Sugar Variations – Any white sugar should work well in this recipe. Sugar is used for a gentle exfoliation so keep that in mind when choosing the coarseness of the sugar. 

For a winter sugar scrub try adding a dash of ground cloves or ground cinnamon. 

Add a few drops of essential oils. My favorite combinations include other citrus oils to complement and enhance, floral scents such as moroccan rose or lavender, and woody scents such cedar or rosemary. 

Pro Tip: If using coconut oil, it will help to slightly warm the oil on the stovetop or even the microwave before adding it to the mixture. I love coconut oil and lime combination! 

How to Store Sugar Scrub

This Sugar Scrub recipe can be stored for up to 3 months in a properly sealed jar / airtight container.  

PRO TIP: Upcycle jars you already own!

[pisspope]

just got the order from my boss that i have to fill 600 bottles of olive oil in the next couple of weeks so here are some aot shitty job hcs

- Sasha works at Claire's and does those awful ear piercings with surgical precision. She's the only one working most days and she has one of those concealed carry purses just in case shit goes down

- Connie works at the Jimmy John's next door and he always reeks of garlic and yeast. He and Sasha became friends because she thinks he smells good. Sometimes he comes over after his shift and gives her literal bread crumbs and pieces of lettuce.

- Levi works at the DMV and Hange works at the library and they sit in the back and talk smack during government meetings

- Reiner works at Hooter's Reiner works at a big box store doing inverntory. he's home late most nights and his schedule is absolutely fucked. luckily he starts late enough where he can catch gabis softball games and falcos choir concerts. he's started smoking incense because the heady aroma helps him sleep during the day

- Marco works at a mall build-a-bear but he's so good at his job that his boss overworks him. tbh he's thinking about quitting to work with Jean at the starbucks in the mall cafeteria. but he enjoys the birthday parties and the smiles on the kids faces too much and just resolves to make the most of it

- Jean is the Token Man who works at starbucks and he's got regulars who come just because they have little crushes on him. he writes hearts next to their names on their cups and watches with glee as they slip more money in the tip jar

- Bertholdt works at one of those kids gymnasiums with the trampoline floors and the weird blocks you can drown in. No one knows how he got the job because he's clumsy as hell and visibly cringes when a kid starts crying

- Mikasa is in an MLM selling baby clothes or perfumes or something. She knows it's shitty but it pays the bills. If anyone asks what she does for a living she says she's a mma fighter and will give them a demonstration if they ask again

- Annie works at Spencer's and makes it everybody's problem. basically squidward at the krusty krab. "Buying some weed socks? Daring today, aren't we."

- Porco works at one of those vapor and e-cig stores. he loves to flaunt his knowledge about different cartridges and even experiments with his own mixes. he's ended up in the hospital from accidental nicotine poisoning at least three times

- Armin is the young guy at factories that they pay to crawl into the machines and pull out pieces of rubber and other hardware refuse. he's got a stack of random tools in the back of his car and he doesn't know what any of them do

- Eren works at the gas station and sells drugs by the back door. He likes to sit and watch the security cameras and pretend he's god. he goes home to his apartment with a basket of gas station chicken and he, armin, and mikasa just hang out. when the three of them are together, there's nowhere he'd rather be

- Pieck works at Ulta. she doesn't wear makeup, rarely brushes her hair all the way through, and her perfume is from the dollar store. she is by far the stores most popular employee. she's as baffled as everybody else

[starpains]

Hello! For the old folks asks, please: #5, 35, and 44

Hi! Thanks for asking ❤️ these were all superb choices

5 - least favorite chore

I HATE ALL OF THEM. I’m lucky hubs does most of them. If I had to choose, I’d say anything sink/bathtub drain related is the worst. I nearly barfed the last time I walked into our bathroom and hubs was deep cleaning the sink drain. UGH. I’m just glad I can repay him—he’s scared shitless of insects and I don’t give a fuck about even the biggest of spiders, so it’s my job to catch them and free them into the wild.

35 - Aisle at the grocery store you never bother walking down?

You mean it’s… physically possible to skip an aisle? What if I forget the nth olive jar? What then?? XD i’m the kinda person that doesn’t make grocery lists and so walking down every aisle is the only way to remember what to buy xD.

44 - honest feelings on Settlers of Catan

See… I’m a board game girl xd. I’ve like 80+ board games at home. And so, Settlers of Catan… falls under the same category as Monopoly or Talisman—I understand they’re well-loved classics, but there’s no place for them at my table.