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bokugaos · 4 years ago

Text

piece by piece.

pairing: kuroo x reader

length: 3.1k

tags — sex work/prostitution, semi-public sex, oral sex, alley blow jobs, rough sex, creampie, violence, abuse/assault, jealousy, possessiveness, angst.

summary: The first time Kuroo fucks you is your first ever. The second time he fucks you is also the last time.

The first time is in a dirty alley behind the bar, Kuroo’s pants around his ankles and you are fumbling awkwardly down to your knees.

He’s drunk and angry, too pissed off at the world to care who’s sucking him off in the dingy shadows beside the garbage bins. It’s not a bad blowjob by far—certainly not the worst he’s ever had—mouth warm and tight as he grips your hair and shoves his thick cock down your throat. You gag a little until your pretty eyes start to water, though you don’t try to pull away; you just let Kuroo fuck your mouth until he comes with a grunt, and swallows every drop before wiping your lips absently with a delicate hand.

Kuroo doesn’t look up as he tucks himself back into his jeans, though he can hear you get off your knees and lean against the wall with a sigh. The orgasm has taken the edge off his simmering rage, but he’s still drunk as fuck and anxious to get home and crawl into his lumpy bed. He digs into his jeans for twenty bucks and hands it to you without a word, and is surprised when you stuff it into your pocket and then grabs his arm before he can walk away.

“Do you…want me to do that for you again some time?” you ask, and look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes like he is the fucking Santa Claus. “I can meet you here? Or at your place?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue as he shrugs your hand off with a sigh; that he’s not picky about who sucks his cock and pretty much any mouth will do. Instead, he looks at your earnest face and the slightly desperate expression you’re trying to hide and finds himself saying the last fucking thing he ever expected.

“Yeah, here. Same time tomorrow.”

—

He doesn’t even learn your name until the fifth time you suck him off, still panting slightly after taking the load down your throat with a pleased smile.

“My name’s y/n,” you say, staring up at him through those lashes like you’re expecting a fucking pat on the head. He has no idea how he’s supposed to respond so he says nothing, shoving the money at you with a grunt before walking away.

He doesn’t need to know your name or what you do when he’s not around. And he does not spend any time wondering where you stay or why you’re out on the streets in the first place.

It’s none of his fucking business.

—

The first time Kuroo fucks you is also your first time ever, though he has no clue he’s dealing with a virgin until the deed is done.

You’re in his bed, and on your hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress and your hands clenched so tightly on the sheets. If he had bothered to, he might have guessed at the lack of experience; would have known from the wild look in your eyes and the nervous gnawing of those plush lips as you strip hastily and crawl onto the bed.

Instead, he’s too distracted by the show of your skin and his own painful erection to do much more than a perfunctory prep before he’s pushing in. you keen, high and wounded and clench down, and it takes every bit of his willpower not to just shove his cock all the way in and start thrusting his hips. As it is, he barely gives you a few moments to get used to being filled, before he starts hammering that pretty hole like his life fucking depends on it.

You groan, back arching against every thrust, sounding pinched and breathless every time he sinks in and bottoms out with a forceful grunt. You feel damn good around his swollen prick, and he finds that he can’t get enough of the way your skin bruises under his rough and calloused fingertips. It drives him wild when you grit your teeth and try so hard not to whine, which only tips Kuroo to haul his hips back and fuck you even harder.

He’s so pent-up that it doesn’t take long before he’s on the edge, and then he’s dragging you up onto your knees and spurting hard, biting down on a bare neck as he comes and comes inside that tight flesh. When he finishes he pulls out slowly, almost gently, though it still makes you cry out like you’re being punched in the gut.

“You okay?” he asks, as you just lay there on the bed, head cradled in your arms as you stare blankly at the far wall. “Did you come?”

“No,” you say, so quietly he can barely hear you. “I didn’t think I would the first time. Maybe once I’m used to it, and it doesn’t hurt.”

Kuroo stiffens, and slowly climbs off the bed. “What the fuck? What do you mean first time?”

You turn to look up at him and shrug, though your eyes are red and a little wet. “Everyone has a first time, right? This was mine.”

He pushes the bills into your hand hesitantly and leaves you on the bed.

He doesn’t see you again for a month.

—

Kuroo finds you there the week after, in the alley behind the same bar, in your usual spot at the usual time. But it’s obvious that you’re not waiting for him tonight, because you’re on your knees again in the shadows, sucking some other man’s dick like you were born for it.

His first impulse is to turn around and leave, to get away from the vivid image of your lips wrapped around someone else’s dick, licking and swallowing like you’re eating a goddamn ice cream. It’s followed by a second impulse to grab the guy and break his fucking nose, the rage welling up fast and violent when you start choking on the cock that’s being unceremoniously rammed down your throat.

Instead Kuroo just stands there and watches, frozen as the man in the cheap grey suit shoots his load inside your mouth with a satisfied grunt. You barely have time to swallow before you’re being hauled onto your feet and kissed within an inch of your life, roughly and messily like the guy is trying to inhale you. Kuroo is practically seeing red with the way he’s manhandling you like so much meat, grabbing and sucking and bruising you like his measly twenty bucks gives him the right to touch every inch of your body.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” the guy yells, when he finally notices Kuroo looming just a few feet away. “You her pimp? Or her next client?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t mind him, he’s nobody.” You interrupt, and Kuroo can’t disagree, even if the words stick in his craw like so much bile.

The tone of your words manages to surprise Kuroo, if not the invitation; he knows full well that you can’t possibly live off of the measly few dollars you make off of Kuroo alone. No, it’s the way you sound when he makes the offer—all fake happiness and a sultry smile, knowing exactly which strings to pull to get a man’s groin to pay attention.

There’s none of the vulnerability and shy air that you usually carry when you’re dealing with Kuroo, and it makes him feel nauseous, like he doesn’t know which version of you is the real one.

He watches as you follow the cheap suit guy to his small green car parked just a few feet away, ignoring Kuroo as you climb into the passenger seat. He continues to watch as the man grabs you by the back of your neck and crushes his lips to yours, like he wants to take you right there, spread your legs wide and fuck you on the fake leather seats. He watches until the car tears out of its spot and disappears down the road, leaving him standing in the alley alone, his mind filled with images of you on your knees.

Kuroo doesn’t sleep at all that night.

—

Four days later you show up at his apartment unannounced, sporting a split lip and red marks over your arms, and finger shaped bruises around his neck.

Kuroo lets you in without a word.

You flop tiredly onto the couch, pulling your legs to your chest with a sigh as he heads into the kitchen to fix you some food. When he returns, you take the plate and cup of coffee with a grateful nod and a quirk of your cracked and not quite bleeding lips.

“Really? Coffee? Do I look like I need coffee?”

Kuroo snorts. “Just do me a favor and tell me who that guy is.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really know him anyway,” you shrug, and start to wolf down the meal like it’s the first food you’ve had in days. Which is both a relief and a sting to his heart, because you don’t know that much about him as well, and neither does he.

So he doesn’t ask for any further details, and you don’t offer, though he does ask you to stay the night and sleep on the couch. He tries not to think too much about the relief that flashes briefly across your face, or what he wants to do to the guy who put his hands on you and made you look this way.

You are not on the couch when Kuroo gets up the next morning, and he tells himself that it’s just as well.

—

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

He doesn’t know why he asks the question; has received no indication from you that any inquiry into your affairs is either wanted or appreciated. But since you showed up at his place last week ago, bruised and obviously in distress, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, and when—not if—it might happen again.

You arch an eyebrow at him and frown. “Why do you think I’m in trouble?”

Kuroo shrugs. “You’re not at your usual spot anymore, behind that bar. I thought…maybe you’re avoiding the guy that hit you.”

The smile that blooms across your face is wholly unexpected, those eyes bright with amusement and something that looks a little too much like softness.

“Yes, but it’s fine. I moved to a different spot and I don’t think he’s going to come looking for me anyway. Not after what I did to him.”

You are grinning now, practically begging Kuroo with the barely contained glee on your face to ask for details. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you do?”

You shrug, swallowing a mouthful of your food before you answer, “I waited until he fell asleep and took nude photos of him in his bed. Then I texted them to as many people as I could find on his contacts.”

“You did what—?” he starts, and then, “I’m quite pleasantly surprised. He’s such a good guy.”

“Right?” You say with a laugh, and then your expression changes, smoothing out into a mask of carefreeness that he doesn’t quite buy. “I left after that. But not before cleaning his wallet.”

—

“You can stay here, if you want,” Kuroo says to you the next morning, his arms around your waist as you lay together in his bed. “Just…I don’t know where you live but if you need a place to go you can crash here.”

You turn in his arms until you’re facing him, your face graced with a shy smile and asks, “Can I suck your cock in exchange for rent?”

“No! It’s not…I don’t mean you have to give me any…fuck,” Kuroo swears, as you tilt your head to the side in realization. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Yeah,” You agree, “same goes for you.”

—

It takes Kuroo almost an entire week before he realizes that you have taken him up on his offer to stay, your comings and goings unpredictable and your actions often completely unexpected. There are days when you don’t leave the apartment at all; where you spend hours cleaning the living room and wiping furniture, or doing all his laundry. Other times you will disappear for an entire day and night, and return stinking of alcohol and covered in other people’s seed and sweat. Those nights, he watches as you limp into the bathroom and quietly locks the door, and spends hours in the shower, long after the water turns icy cold.

He never asks, but he never says no either, when you climb on him on the couch and unbuckles his pants with quick and steady hands. It’s not just lust that makes it so good when you lick him sloppily from root to tip; it’s also the shame bubbling just under his skin, watching you swallow him down with those perfect cock sucking lips. Kuroo can’t stop staring at your swollen mouth sliding up and down his cock; can’t stop bucking his hips and fucking your throat, relishing the noises you make when he shoots his entire load in your sinful mouth with a groan.

You always lick your lips after you suck his cock, like it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted.

And you only smile afterwards when you do it for him.

—

One day, you come home in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, carrying shopping bags that you dump unceremoniously onto the floor. You’re wearing a brand new outfit that looks more expensive than what he makes in a week, gleaming bracelets adorning your wrists and a diamond necklace sparkling on your neck. Gone are your loose worn t-shirts and baggy, low-rise jeans; you look like a model in one of those designer catalogues, or the A-list celebrities going to get coffee in sunny L.A.

Kuroo hates it.

He hates it, because of how right you look in your expensive new outfit; like these are the clothes you’re meant to be wearing.

Like you belong in them all the time, and in a world far, far away from him.

He makes you take all your fancy jewelries off, and then fucks you roughly with two fingers until you come all over his couch.

—

You still show up at the apartment smelling like sex, with bite marks on your collarbone and your lips swollen from kisses.

But you also come home with bags and bags of groceries too, and make sure to stock the fridge full of his favorite beer.

He tells himself that he appreciates your thoughtfulness, and isn’t at all jealous of whoever the hell it is that’s giving you what he needs.

Giving you everything you deserve and could never get from a guy like him.

—

The second time he fucks you is also the last time.

You ask him to go out for dinner one night, to a place with neatly folded cloth napkins and dimly lit candles on the table, and you order the most expensive dish on the menu. You spend the evening devouring a mountain of food and making fun of the pretentious staff, and Kuroo pretends he’s perfectly fine with the fact that some rich asshole he doesn’t know is paying for this good time.

But he bites back the festering resentment and gives you a genuine smile, because he’s never seen you so damned happy and relaxed, laughing and smiling as you make your way back to Kuroo’s apartment. He lets you lead him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, and grins into the toe curling kiss that follows as you move to the bed.

This time, when he’s got you naked on your hands and knees, he takes care to be gentle and thorough, spreading your legs wide and working you open. He slips his tongue and licks your wetness all over, and tastes every bit of that pretty cunt while you clutch the sheets and writhe and moan.

“Tetsurou,” you pant, as he slides in slowly, inch by excruciating inch. “F-feels so good! Oh, please, please fuck me, god I want to feel you, please..!”

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he says, groaning as you arch your back and clench around him. “Gonna make you scream my name.”

And he does, relishing every sound he can wring out of you as he sinks to the root, and every breathless sigh as he starts rocking his hips. Every stroke makes him want to push harder and thrust deeper, as he watches his cock disappear over and over inside that pretty pink hole.

He fucks you for what feels like hours that night, stopping whenever he gets too close to wring every ounce of pleasure possible from your sweat soaked bodies. He fucks you on your knees and then flips you over onto your back, and drives himself inside you like he wants to own him; be the one to break you apart and put you back together again.

“Is it good like this? When he fucks you?” Kuroo snarls, throwing your legs over his shoulders and sinking even deeper. “Do you tell them that you want them so bad? Beg them to ruin you too?”

You don’t answer, spurting all over yourself as he keeps drilling you into the bed. He follows a few rough strokes later with a groan, fingers biting deep into soft flesh, every part of him howling with possessive fury as he paints your tight walls with his come.

“No,” you whisper, much later, with Kuroo’s arms wrapped around you and his nose pressed against your neck. “It’s not like this at all.”

—

The space beside him is empty by the time he wakes the next morning, and there’s a neatly folded note on the nightstand.

He ignores it until he can’t anymore, and then crumples it in his fist and tosses it into the garbage can.

He’s always known that this is how it would end.

Still, he wishes he knew more than just your first name, or how your smile—the real one, soft and genuine—was the best thing he’d ever fucking seen.

He doesn’t see you again for a long time; days and months and years until there’s nothing left but a memory of you and a dull, aching hole in his chest.

#kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #tw sex work #tw prostitution #kuroo angst #.kuroo!#.fics!

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years ago

Photo

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure.

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay ��😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on)

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss - I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #honestly there were so many scenes in these 3 chapter that I wanted to draw... but I barely had the time for these 2 #Catching Fire is just chock-full with interesting/important moments... my book is more post-it notes than pages at this point

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clatterbane · 2 years ago

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More not so photogenic lowish-spoons food tonight, but very tasty!

(I wouldn't normally want to put both things in the same pasta bowl, but we were low on clean dishes and I didn't feel like dirtying anything else up. Time to eat the broccoli first, to make room to maneuver the spaghetti around!)

Except I don't actually like it to get very crispy around the edges, and also just had frozen to use, as detailed here:

Bottled lemon juice is much better than nothing, and that's what we had today.

As for the basic comfort food type meaty spaghetti, I decided to try an easy one-pot version in the Instant Pot (again!). I know a lot of people really don't like the idea of doing that with pasta, but I've found that it does give consistently pretty good results once you get liquid proportions and timing down for a particular brand/shape.

The major reason, though? It's so much more accessible a cooking method for people working around various disabilities in the kitchen. Way easier--and safer--than fooling around with big boiling pasta pots as a wheelchair user, that's for sure! Or even asking someone else to handle the draining part at just the right time. 🥴 Which, of course, is just not gonna work with nobody else there to do it.

Garofalo and Barilla's gluten free pastas are the best for things like this, IME. They just behave a lot like the "regular" wheaty kind all around, and you don't need to worry about them turning into gross mush if you so much as look at them wrong. Some others are tricky enough with regular cooking, never mind pressure cooked.

Anyway, this basic recipe looks pretty close to the proportions I like to use:

Just about any pasta shape should work fine. And it also works great to just use frozen/refrigerated prepared meatballs, added right before the pasta layer. If they're still frozen, it'll just take a few more minutes to come up to pressure.

I was feeling ambitious enough today to chop up some onion, celery, carrot, and garlic to saute in with the meat. Took my own seasoning approach, as usual. For about anything like this, you will probably thank yourself if you use at least part broth (from crushed up cubes/powder, fresh, you name it) for at least half of the liquid--and adjust the other salty seasonings accordingly.

I find that it usually works best to cook pasta under high pressure for half the time you would normally boil it--plus an extra minute or two, especially if it's being cooked with tomatoes or other acidic ingredients. Usually let it sit for like 3 minutes before releasing the pressure. Better to err on the side of undercooking to start out with. You can fix that easily enough.

Once the lid is opened, time to evaluate and adjust as detailed here:

I like to let any kind of absorption cooked pasta sit and rest for 5-10 minutes before digging in, just like most saucy things straight out of the oven. IME it's good for both texture and flavor, besides not burning your mouth as easily! 😊

This ended up longer on the cooking tips than intended, but hey. I've been getting a lot more experience with these kinds of dishes now that I can eat them again, and some of it might be useful. Especially for other disabled/chronically ill people trying to stay decently fed.

#food #recipes #lowish spoons food #pasta #gluten free #spaghetti #broccoli #feta #instant pot #preasure cooking #one pot pasta #wheelchair cooking

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relaxxattack · 4 years ago

Note

do you have any techno and tubbo headcanons, maybe from pogtopia? (either before or after the first festival!)

/roleplay

- when tubbo gave tommy phukkit before the election, phukkit was in a glass potion-bottle wrapped in a green bindle. the bottle with the fish was set safely in tommy’s enderchest. the bindle got tied around tommy’s neck, and hasn’t left since.

- tubbo was bedridden for a day after the festival. (canon lives work like a totem, but much slower, so it takes a while for him to heal.) niki helped heal him with food she’d smuggled out of manberg. tommy kept switching between hovering over him constantly, and avoiding him completely for battle prep. he couldn’t pick one.

- tommy and tubbo shove each other. it’s what they do-- it’s very funny, and they like to be touching without being gross and mushy about it. punching, kicking, shoving one over; it’s the way they show their affection. ..... after the execution, tommy becomes afraid to shove tubbo.

- tubbo forgives technoblade. he really does. he knows what it’s like working for schlatt, he knows what it feels like when the man calls you over and places a hand on your shoulder and asks you to do something for him. tubbo knows this, but his stomach still lurches whenever he sees the pigman afterward. his heart still races. he still finds himself thinking, please, not this. please, aren’t you strong enough to do something?

- after tommy and techno fight in the pit, their relationship is never the same. techno’s eyes seem shiftier then usual when tommy’s around. and tommy juts his chin out as if he’s biting things back when techno enters the room. tubbo feels bad that he’s ruined their friendship. at the same time, he wishes techno would go away and leave them alone.

- techno is awkward around tubbo after the execution. one time, he attempts to pat tubbo on the back and tubbo reflexively whips out his knife. ...they don’t really talk anymore, after that.

- quackity and tubbo are extremely close and hold a very high trust and value for each other. while fundy’s spying was secret and he kept mostly to himself, big q often voiced aloud his grievances with schlatt, since he didn't have anything to hide. tubbo couldn’t agree out loud, but quackity sort of knew, and they stood up for each other around schlatt. they also both reminded each other of tommy and wilbur. quackity would often come to help tubbo with his chores in silence after a fight with schlatt. tubbo made quackity his vp because he trusted him to keep him on the straight and narrow, and knew he’d listen to big q better then schlatt did.

- tubbo noticed his horns were growing in during pogtopia, so he started growing his hair out to hide them. nobody knows about the shame he feels toward it (which is like. reflective of how nobody knows how hard he’s taking being the Spy.)

- by the time tubbo’s president, the horns are too long to hide with his hair... sort of like how when you give people power, their true colors show. but while everyone else sees these “true colors” as corruption, tubbo only feels shame as everything crashes down around him during presidency.

- tubbo trusts big q to do the right thing, even when the bloody posters around the room make him feel a bit on the wrong side of history. tubbo knows that technoblade is a terrorist who’s made his intentions towards them clear as he marches off into the snow with a compass clasped in his hand, even as his breath becomes shakier. tubbo remembers being on the wrong end of a rocketlauncher, thrice over, and he clenches the compass tighter. techno’s a threat to their safety. techno declared war on them. but even before that... he caused tubbo’s multicolored nightmares. this is necassary.

sorry i kind of went off the rails about c!tubbo i just. he’s just so Cool

#relaxx writes #tub

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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The Naruto/Frozen Crossover

So I was planning on just doing an image ID thing for this post, but apparently the formatting on desktop is such a mess that it’s easier to just make a new post that’s text only. I can also like. Bulletpoint it so that it can be a little neater. All ideas were made with @firebirdeternal‘s help, because they are the most efficient enabler I have.

Also I added some bits at the end.

Under a cut, because it’s Long As Heck.

I originally had two options: either Mid-teens Elsa and Anna being transported to ninja land sometime pre-canon and running into Haku and Zabuza... or just like. Born as a Daimyou's daughters.

Spoiler alert, we’ve got nukenin and I’m a sucker for an intrusive crossover, so transported to ninja land it is.

Suggestion from Birdie:

Mechanism for crossover: Elsa ices over a Wishing Well by accident after having Wished for someone else who understood her, Anna and her fall in and get Ice Mirror Portaled to Ninjaland, falling out of an iced over pond near a shrine that Haku recently prayed at for similar lonely child reasons?

Which I like! They don’t end up there soon enough to run into Haku, because I want a dramatic chase first, but I like it.

Obviously, Anna is forced to learn about Elsa's powers because it's the only thing keeping them safe

Or at least alive

(Elsa will do ANYTHING to keep Anna safe, and if that means she has to get her hands dirty...)

...neither of them knows Japanese, so, you know. There’s that.

I'm thinking that they end up in/near Kiri at first

And they aren't FAST ENOUGH to get away so Elsa panic-enchants a giant reindeer made of snow to run away across the suddenly-frozen ocean.

She and Anna have to ride and Elsa is probably crying the whole time.

Oh shit this is like. RIGHT after their parents die, I forgot. So that’s a thing! They are in mourning and all that fun stuff.

Point is, they use the powers for a Self Defense thing and BBY Haku is just !!! "Master can we rescue them for Ice Cousin reasons?" Zabuza: Yes, and only for those practical reasons and not because I collect endangered children like people collect pokemon cards.

I imagine that maybe they track rumors of a Yuki-onna down, or the Giant Snow Reindeer rides by and Haku’s just like Wat

The girls just tag along with Zabuza because. Like.

Do they like him? No. Do they trust him? No. Do they enjoy the fact that he considers them pathetic civilians? No.

However, Haku is Baby.

Zabuza is REALLY annoyed at them being Useless Civilian Royals “but Haku likes them so I guess they can stay.”

Age at meeting, three years pre-canon:

Zabuza - 23

Elsa - 18

Anna - 15

Haku - 12

Elsa is 90% anxiety/depression master combo BUT if Zabzua protects her then she's WILDLY dangerous so like. Whatever

Elsa's bingo book nickname options, uninspired:

Winter Witch

Winter Queen

Ice Queen

Snow Queen

Something about a Yuki-Onna maybe

She's Very Stately and kinda breakable but Winter is her Bitch

I mean like, the fact that, if protected, she can shut down the agriculture of a fucking country? That's an S-rank even if she's not that useful in a fight.

She's like. Jinchuuriki-level destruction. Generally speaking she wouldn’t. But she could.

Elsa: What the fuck is a chakra? Elsa: my snow monsters are self-sustaining. Elsa: I'm gonna build us a house.

Zabuza has NO idea how her powers work and it is INCREDIBLY frustrating but “there’s no chakra cost to keep these things going and we have shelters on demand” is too convenient to question after a while.

Haku: Delicate, deadly, incredibly fast ninja work. Elsa: I can't dodge a kunai but watch me wreck your entire country's ecosystem in under a day.

Elsa is a siege weapon.

Meanwhile, Anna is really, really into the physicality of ninja practice.

She's clumsy and she's not very good at ninja stuff, but she sure is determined!

Anna also gets on Zabuza's nerves because she keeps insisting that Haku get to be a kid.

Anna: Let's make flower crowns! Zabuza: No, he needs to train, not- Anna: FLOWER CROWNS

Consider: Haku saying Elsa-nee-sama and Anna-hime.

Or just calling Elsa “onee-sama.”

Anna is also younger than Elsa and way more Fun so she probably gets adjusted to Anna-chan or Nee-chan.

If Zabuza calls Elsa “Hime-chan” or “Elsa-hime” or, Sage forbid, “Elsa-sama/dono” then he’s VERY MUCH making fun of her and he’s probably getting his soup frozen that night.

At one point, Elsa... tries to like. Convince herself to have a crush on Zabuza or Kakashi or something until Zabuza just puts a hand on her shoulder and asks "do you even like men?" "...that's an OPTION?"

Zabuza urging her to try and ask out a Cute Kunoichi and Elsa's like.... I can't decide if she's bright red and a useless lesbian or uncomfortable and ace.

I am SO invested in the siege weapon thing.

SHE IS THE SQUISHIEST WIZARD.

It's not her fault that every single other combatant on the continent is Massively Dangerous in melee! She took a very traditional back-line build!

Enemy: Doesn't it GRATE to protect someone so pathetic, Zabuza? Zabuza: She literally froze an entire castle of enemies to death because they harmed her sister, so. No.

Most Ninjas: Sharp Knife. S-Rank Mega Ninjas: Gun. Elsa: High Yield Explosive Rocket Launcher. Literally loses fights to the Knife People, because she can't bring her power to bear on that scale. But if you can give her Time and Prep? No contest.

Long distance AoE

Like you know how Nagato is literally dying of starvation due to illness and can't walk, but he's also capable of leveling powerful villages more or less on his own?

Elsa is the same Vibe.

It’s like sealing a bijuu in a civilian.

She's honestly both more and less powerful? Like it'd be hard for her to kill everyone in Konoha in the snap of a finger? But also, she could starve out the Country of Fire in a summer.

She WOULDN'T, but she could.

I always read Elsa as gay or ace but my brain keeps trying to ship her with dude ninjas and I have to yank it back on a child leash.

People insinuate that Zabuza is interested in Elsa and he's just "What? Ew she's like five."

"I'm eighteen."

"Five."

BUT

Elsa! Might mistake trust and companionship for a crush!

I can see THAT happening despite gay/ace.

Also like. I don’t think Zabuza is straight.

So mlm/wlw solidarity?

And Haku is probs genderqueer.

So Anna is THE TOKEN STRAIGHT.

Anna is like, the Straight Friend who will go to the mat for her queer friends. Like vicious. In-your-face barking like a mean dog at people who were being bigots.

You know how Elsa in the second movie uses her powers to make toys for kids out of ice?

Okay, so her practicing by making things with Haku.

But yeah, Elsa can't really do "throws ice senbon," but she can do Delicate Geometry Things since she apparently, canonically studies math for fun and loves fractals.

Haku: I can trap you in a prison of ice mirrors, and you are at my mercy. Elsa: LOOK AT THIS CASTLE I MADE???

Haku wants to do Pretty Things like Elsa

OH.

Elsa makes... snow bunnies..

For the ninja distraction reasons but also because it's a Soft Thing that makes her feel better about, uh, everything. And Haku likes bunnies.

Zabuza still takes The Dirty Missions but Elsa gets upset when he does something that hurts innocents and Nobody wants Elsa upset. Even Zabuza doesn't want Elsa upset.

When Elsa gets upset, overnight accommodations are suddenly Very Uncomfortable for everyone except her and Haku.

And then Anna gets upset, which makes Elsa even MORE upset.

And then things just keep getting colder.

Zabuza doesn't want Elsa upset for many reasons, not limited to: "Is actually capable of killing me from outside of Sword Range if she's mad enough, even if it’s not that easy" and "the Small Children would be unbearably sad if she died and honestly so might I."

She's more of a friend than a ward and he's not entirely sure he's okay with that.

Zabuza: "Ew, friendship."

He has absolutely no idea how to have a social interaction with people he isn't Bullying, Raising, or Threatening to Kill.

Elsa and Anna have no trouble convincing people they're related, at least. Different coloration with almost identical bone structure.

A tendency to burst into song when they feel emotions.

Identical weird accent that nobody can place.

FOOD

The girls are royalty, they don't know how to COOK.

But they also want food from HOME.

It's a lot of trial and error.

More error than not, since they have both no knowledge and also a language barrier to overcome. It probably takes YEARS before they can describe things like Unfamiliar Flavors well enough for people to say "OH that sounds like spearmint."

When they run into something they know that’s familiar, it’s life-changing.

Chocolate is more common in the elemental nations than in Arandelle and Anna may or may not cry about it.

Anna is loudly bossy, even at Zabuza.

Zabuza is gruffly commanding, to everyone.

Elsa doesn't actually like being in charge, but when she talks, people LISTEN.

(Haku is just happy to be here.)

Elsa radiates two things: Anxiety, and Natural Command, and she basically just fluctuates between those.

"I don't want to be in charge but also I'm vetoing this."

So, obviously, the main reasons that Zabuza keeps the girls around is that Elsa is a living siege weapon and he thinks she could be convinced to help him run a revolution in Kiri, and also that the Ice Queen schtick is like. Really good for Haku and Zabuza can’t really say no to the kid.

HOWEVER, Anna is clumsy and messy and all that, so Zabuza starts training her in Ninja stuff. Elsa joins in on the “I need to know how to Run Fast to get away from fights I don’t want to have in the first place,” but Anna’s the one that’s like “TEACH ME HOW TO SWORD.”

It’s honestly not that hard to teach her, she’s just really, really, REALLY enthusiastic.

Once or twice someone asks why she’s so bad at this yet running around with an A-rank nukenin and Zabuza’s just like “I’ve only had her for a year and a half, shut up!” because it’s not that he’s a bad teacher, it’s that she was a very pampered civilian until like a week before he met her.

He should get a MEDAL for even getting her to low Chuunin.

Zabuza: I'm taking a job from Gato Elsa, who has Training in economics and politics and bureaucracy: I have a better idea.

This is actually not entirely what I’d do but I wanted to make the joke first ANYWAY here’s an actual plot or something.

Oh, also by this point everyone is Canon Ages so Elsa’s 21 and Anna’s 18 and Zabuza’s 26 and Haku’s 15.

Elsa is getting paid to keep the water from interfering with construction, by way of....

ICE COFFERDAM

Elsa with Haku as her Guard while Zabuza is off running his own mission? Which Anna begged to go on because Cool.

Elsa also kind of keeps her involvement on the ice front semi-secret by claiming she’s there as an engineering consultant.

LISTEN canon made her like geometry, I can ENTIRELY believe she’d be excited about the bridge-building.

Gato has hired someone else on the danger level of Zabuza, who is Threatening to Team 7 + Haku? But then when things look bleak Anna and Zabuza arrive and then Scary Sword Man is on our side and oh dear that's a lot of blood.

Which, you know, fun!

Birdie suggested Raiga which I’m not feeling but I do feel the need to bring up as an option.

It’s also not Kisame BUT

Kisame: [giant lake dome filled with sharks]

Elsa: uhhhhhhhhhhh...

Giant lake dome: [is now a giant ice dome]

Anyway

Gato: I'm hiring an army. Elsa: [giant ice wall around his compound] Gato: ... these guys can walk up walls! Elsa: [adds snowman guards] Elsa: ... Elsa: [adds a ceiling]

Just puts Gato's entire mob in a fucking snow globe.

Zabuza shows up twenty minutes late with (Throwing) Star(buck)s just like "Oh, they dead? No? Want 'em to be? Okay cool I'm gonna go pick up Haku, I'll be back in like an hour."

Anna would... LOVE Naruto

ENERGETIC FRIENDLY GOOFBALL

"I found us a baby brother!" "No, we already have Haku." "BUT LOOK AT HIM."

Anna is only a year or two older than Itachi.

OH RIGHT

I wanted to make a joke about how Naruto also vibes with her because he's less judgmental that she can't really... talk properly.

Sasuke is Judgy and Kakashi is Paranoid and Sakura is Uncomfortable.

Meanwhile Naruto is just like "And I Shall Scream."

Anna, who learned Japanese from Zabuza (rude) and Haku (uber polite): WELL FUCK YOU, GOOD SIR Naruto: YEAH WELL FUCK YOU TOO, LADY Elsa, overly formal: I am... so very sorry.

Anyway, generic missing nin fights and all that.

Elsa gets injured in the process and after a variety of arguments, Naruto manages to convince them to take her to Konoha for medical attention.

Elsa is... usually the one getting injured.

Zabuza and Haku are FAST and Anna is at least learning (even if she’s only been doing it for three years), but Elsa is The Squishy Wizard.

If someone throws a kunai... she can’t... really dodge...

So yeah, gut wound.

Normally they find a nukenin medic to patch them up but Konoha is reasonably close and has some of the more skilled medics on the continent and they DID technically help the Konoha nin so like. Gah.

That’s Zabuza’s final thought. Gah.

Just “Fuck it, let’s save the ice queen.”

Elsa ends up in a half-literal-ice stasis state on the way there and it’s happened before (it is not the first time she’s been stabbed), but it’s always terrifying.

Especially to the Konoha genin who are just like WHAT THE HECK IS THAT.

So they get to Konoha, there’s a whole bunch of stuff about extradition treaties and “you are bringing a literal WMD of a woman into our town” and “we can’t just let MOMOCHI ZABUZA in.”

Anyway, it ends up being that Zabuza has to wait outside the village while Elsa is treated inside, and one of the Teenagers goes in. Obviously, it’s Anna, because Zabuza is INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE with letting Haku enter a village that’s known for having lots of bloodlines, and anyway, Anna’s the sister.

Bunch of stuff, she’s healing, etc, and then one day Anna comes in and is told “your sister had a bad reaction to the anesthetic, we couldn’t save her, I’m sorry, she’s gone.”

She flips out, gets shown the corpse, flips out MORE, gets escorted out to the village walls where Zabuza and Haku are waiting.

Horrified reactions

Zabuza doesn’t want to admit that it’s EMOTIONS because this is his FRIEND, he is clearly just upset about losing the living siege weapon.

Haku is just super confused and goes “But she’s not dead.”

“What.”

“She’s not dead, I can feel her, I can always feel her, it’s like sensing but just her, because we’re both ice. She’s alive, somewhere over... there?”

And points right in the direction of the Hokage Mountain, which for the purposes of this fic and also Drama is where ROOT headquarters is.

YEP we absolutely have that plot point.

Is Danzo overused as a plot device? Probably. Am I going to diabolus ex machina him anyway? Ye.

They kick up enough of a fuss that the Hokage gets called down.

He wouldn’t, normally, he’d leave it to a couple of skilled jounin and call it a day, except Naruto got involved so like. You can’t. Ignore that.

There’s lots of shouting.

Just like. A lot.

And then part of the mountain explodes!

AS ONE DOES

Elsa comes flying backwards out of the hole, catches herself on a spontaneous ice slide, gets to her feet.

Girl is swaying like MAD.

There are absolutely ANBU (both fake and real) coming after her.

At least one of them gets speared through by an ice spike.

Anna runs up to her, tries to hug her, gets batted away.

Elsa’s staring at her in sheer TERROR and starts muttering something about how Anna died years ago, this isn’t real, etc.

Nobody except Anna understands most of it, but Haku picks up enough to translate when Anna’s freaking out.

Elsa starts doing her Ice Castle thing in the middle of Konoha as a coping mechanism, mostly so she can get Up and Away and Shielded By Ice.

This is not a good look.

Especially because she’s singing, which Zabuza always thinks is a bad omen because it means shit is getting real and one or both of the girls are about to get a powerup or be beaten even harder than otherwise. When they start singing, things get More Dramatic And Extreme).

(Zabuza does not like Disney Musical Rules)

Danzo shows up.

There’s a bunch of arguing.

All the medics insist that nothing she was given at the hospital should have caused amnesia, psychosis, hallucinations, delusions, etc.

It’s. Not hard for Hiruzen to guess what happened.

Namely that Danzo, upon finding out that chakra dampeners didn’t do shit since none of Elsa’s powers come from chakra, decided to keep her drugged up and start using genjutsu to make her more malleable.

Because like. An injured WMD just showed up in your village. What are you supposed to do, not try to kidnap her and turn her to your side? Like, come on. What was he supposed to do?

Not that, Danzo. Literally Not That.

IDK how it gets resolved, probably Anna getting to her with the power of love, because Elsa is ultimately Super Disney.

I also don’t really know where to go from there other than “Maybe Jiraiya can get you home, but also I’m pretty sure Zabuza wants you all to get the hell out of here and take over Kiri” but who knows.

Also

IMAGINE ELSA MEETING GAI.

Imagine Ino getting a puppy crush on Elsa.

IDK that’s it for now.

#Frozen #Naruto #Momochi Zabuza #Yuki Haku #Zabuza #Haku #mini fic #Phoenix Babbles #Crossovers #Phoenix Posts

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painted-crow · 4 years ago

Note

What does a rapid fire Bird Secondary look like ?

Me!

I've talked about this a bit before, but I don’t like detailed plans, like step by step "here's what I'm gonna do." There are circumstances when I'll plan, but rather limited ones:

For fun. Maybe I'm interested in something but can't do the actual activity, so I plan it out instead. This plan might serve as a reference later, but I'm just as likely to discard it because I don't feel like using it or I have a better idea.

As a crutch. If I'm really inertia-struck with anxiety or executive dysfunction, making a plan or even just a list can be a hack to get out of it, but again, I'm likely to abandon it halfway through if I start feeling better.

"Formal" experimentation. I don't do this a whole lot, and usually I do this kind of thing in my head... but sometimes you gotta actually think the details through and write them down in advance.

But it's not how I like to work. To me, plans feel brittle and restrictive and usually boring. I lean towards other tactics:

Clever repurposing of something I learned/collected, or of resources that happen to be around me

Use of a tool I picked up thinking "this'll be handy at some point"

Bringing up weird knowledge I acquired At Some Point, possibly by accident, for fun, or while working on something else

Bringing up general skills I learned on purpose

Learning skills on the fly because the situation needs them; I prefer to know what I'm doing better than this, but reasonably speedy autodidacticism is one of my most prized skills and it's not a bad fallback.

(El Goonish Shive)

"Moooom! Paint is identifying with a mad scientist character again!"

Basically, I pull from my collection of existing skills, tools, knowledge, and current available resources to craft a solution on the fly, after getting close enough to the situation to get a good look at the problem.

This makes me feel very clever, it works really well, and I love doing it. Favorite way to do stuff, hands down.

Trouble can be, if people don't recognize how much prep work goes into these "instant" solutions, they're inclined not to believe they're real and will actually work. And I don't like pulling the "actually I studied this for six months" card because it feels like bragging :/ plus, for all the different things I can say that about, it stops sounding believable.

Truth is, I have almost no attention span for television (I'm aware this is weird but don't have an explanation for it), I hyperfocus easily, and I choose hobbies with lots of moving parts.

Like aquascaping. Do you know how many different bottles of chemicals you need to get the water chemistry right so the aquatic plants will grow? For me it was five, but a lot of people I knew online had waaay more (and fancy CO2 systems) because they kept demanding plants. If you kept the right balance of fish and plants, you ended up with this little ecosystem in a box. Like a tiny slice of a river! I was pretty good at it.

I still don't know how I got from "let's try making California rolls" to "afraid to run out of good mirin," but somehow I ended up really into cooking Japanese food and it's a permanent influence on my pantry and basically anything I cook now.

I do know how I ended up with so many oil painting mediums and solvents and so many paint colors that I have to have a list on my phone now to keep track of which ones I have in stock, though. Also did you know that acrylic paints also have mediums you can add and they make using acrylics SO MUCH EASIER? because I do and it seems like nobody else does and that's sad.

I also binge read nonfiction, especially when I'm depressed. It gives me something to focus on and feels vaguely productive even when I don't have the energy to do more.

Does this all sound like a lot of work? It's really just some of the stuff I do for kicks. We haven't touched on the novels I've written, the coding languages I know, the gardens I've kept, the professional design software on my computer (which I built myself from parts), the knitting and the baking and the graphic design and the candle making and the martial arts and the French language stuff from back in high school that I still kinda remember.

OH and then you have the weird stuff I carry around. *empties purse* here we have a multitool, lockpicks, a can of WD-40, some yarn or string, bandaids, a styptic pen, hand sanitizer, hairbands, screws I don't want to lose bc they belong to my couch, glasses cleaning wipes, a metal pen with a point that can break a car window, a bunch of fast food napkins, mini bottles of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, earbuds, comb, random lanyard, and four mini rubber ducks; all of these make sense to me don't ask why my purse is heavy

Plus all the ebooks loaded onto my phone, which I carry everywhere! And I have even more in my Humble Bundle library.

I list all these off to make a point: Birds' resource libraries can be HUGE. I don't know where mine exists on the hugeness spectrum, but I'm only 23, and older Birds' libraries are probably even bigger.

So yeah, as odd and niche as my interests can be, I have a LOT of them, and I can just go into situations without a plan because between all the skills I've learned and the books I've read and reread and the resources I carry everywhere and the hoard of supplies at home and the Bird masks and the Badger mirroring and THEN the ability to learn what I need on the fly if all else fails--

I don't need a plan.

I don't want a plan.

I'm more powerful without it.

I can react and pull from anything I've ever done or used or read. I can build things on the fly. Doesn't matter if I need to help cater an event or build a website or just prop open a heavy door--I'll have something relevant, or I'll figure it out.

There are situations where I won't be as capable, of course. For example, I know very little about cars, or writing music, or roller skating, or amino acid protein chains. But that's okay, because there are other people who specialize in those things, and I'll almost certainly come out of the situation having learned something and added to my library.

(Except the roller skating thing. I'm kind of phobic about skating of any kind. Cool when other people do it, but I get *eurgh* sliding in socks on linoleum.)

How do I end this... oh!

The fancy word for the act of making up a solution to a problem on the spot, using whatever materials and resources you have on hand, is bricolage, and one who practices it is a bricoleur. I learned that from a LiveJournal blog about writing that I used to read when I was 12, and I still remember it for some reason, which is very on brand of me.

#sortinghatchats #ravenclaw secondary #rapid fire ravenclaw secondary #paint speaks #asks #q

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heartofsnark · 3 years ago

Text

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

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

Word Count: 10860

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

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

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

Calling.

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

Calling.

She presses harder.

Calling.

She tries her entire hand.

Calling.

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

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?”

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

“What do you mean?”

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.”

“Can I get your name and apartment number?”

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

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

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

“Yep.”

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

“Work.”

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

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

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who the hell is this old man?

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm.”

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

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

“What?”

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

“Fine, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was sort of hoping you had…”

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

“Its cute.”

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

“It's a little spider.”

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

“It is cute!”

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

“Maybe we’re just passing through?”

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

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

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

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

“Looks…. Fancy.”

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

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

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

“What, why?”

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

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

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

“Not like he needs it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is everyone?”

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

“Got it in my bag.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well-”

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

“Just black then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understood.”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“Not my thing.”

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

“I’ll consider that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hearing aids? I already have those.”

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

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

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

“Oh, I see.”

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

“I get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?”

“How much longer is this place reserved?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You serious, V?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

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

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

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

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.”

“Or you’re being haunted.”

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.”

“Hello… “

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

“You’re here, mi carina.”

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks…”

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

“Right….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say.”

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

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

“Hey, what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No hearing aids?”

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign.

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

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

“Can’t blame him for being excited.”

“Hmmm and you?”

“Nervous.”

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

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

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

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!”

“Yeah yeah, go on.”

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

“You actually trying to be nice today?”

“Something like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want inside of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it’s a good look for me.”

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!"

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?”

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Afterlife… we’re really here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“And who might you clowns be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We-”

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

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

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

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

“Thought Dex was the best?”

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

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

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

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

“You drinkin’?”

“Special night, pick me something nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

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

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

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

“To becoming legends.”

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

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

“All on the menu…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

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

“Okay, what’s your drink then?”

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

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

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

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

“Just biz, no big deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Break a leg.”

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

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

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

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

Nothing as they turn another corner.

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

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

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

"Este pinche tipo..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Honestly?”

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

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

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

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

“Cut me out… shiiiit, now that’s rich,” Dex laughs, Jackie nervously laughing along, “Clients... never learn, do they?”

“You’re not pissed?”

“Lived in NC too long to blow my top every time some amateur thinks they can take me for a ride. Parker ain't the first and sure as hell won't be the last.”

“Fair enough,” V lets out a sigh, thankful if nothing else that Dex doesn’t seem prone to getting too mad at Evelyn. Maybe she’s being too kind, but she can’t help but think Evelyn is more naive than malicious when it comes to the offer. A stranger to the merc world.

“I do appreciate you sharin' this info, though, Miss V. You see, trust… …is essential in any partnership that's to be long-lasting and fruitful.”

“Figured you had a right to know, so, what’s the plan?”

“This.”

Dex gestures towards the shards on the table, V takes the one in front of her and slides it into her shard slot. UI and graphics lighting up her mask, a map pulling up on the tech.

“Me and Dex've already covered the fine detes. Ops wise, should be a stroll on the beach.”

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.”

“A Delamain'll drop your asses at the front door of Konpeki Plaza,” a picture of the hotel shows, then two names, “You'll stroll right in thanks to your false identities. Then, with Bug's help, you'll breach the hotel's subnet…”

“Mine and the Flathead's help.” Images of the hotel’s interior and the bot flash by.

“Last but not least, you slip into Yorinobu's penthouse and klep the Relic,” his words bring up images of the heir and his suite.

“Goes without sayin' we do this on the hush - ideally no bodies, not a one.” The shard shows them The Relic and then blips out.

“You'll have T-Bug on comms for the duration. Time for your burnin' questions.”

“What’s our cover?” V asks, they’ve been told a thousand times they’ll be acting like corpos, but that’d be hard to do if they have no idea what their story is suppose to be.

“Hello, Ramón Victorino,” T-Bug looks at Jackie and then to V, “and you’re Hannah Conwell.”

“Ramón - yeah, OK. What do we say we're there for?”

“Biz as usual. Corpo arms deal. Case anyone asks, you there for a bogus meetin' with Arasaka's defense rep - Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

“Yorinobu's got barely any muscle. Hardest part'll be penthouse security. If we wanna disable, we'll need to neutralize Konpeki's dweller - elite ‘runner monitoring the hotel's subnet twenty-four seven. Only catch is there's no way to get in the dweller's den from the outside.”

“Hold on, how you want us to get inside a room you can't get into?”

“Trust me when I say whatever hitch you think up. T-Bug's solved it already”

“This is where the Flathead comes in. You'll have to get him in the ventilation shafts, guide him to the dweller and force the dweller to… take a break. Flathead'll stay there, jacked into the dweller, but thanks to that I’ll be able to roll out your red carpet into the penthouse.”

“Anything else?”

“Transports a Delamain?” She has no idea if the company has an ASL sign like most other corporations and doesn’t have time to think of one on the fly.

“Preemest cab company in all Night City… Nada mal,” hackie tells her.

“DeShawn don't ever work with anyone but the best. I consider Delamain just that.”

“Yeah, who needs creepy, nosy cab drivers when you've got a clean AI to get you from point A to point B in style?”

“And how he bags a permit to operate every year's still a mystery.”

“If everythin' goes as planned, Delamain'll drop you back here. If things get sticky, he'll head for the safe house.”

“Which is?”

“The No-Tell Motel. Quiet, no questions asked. Make our next move from there. But I'm flat certain that won't be necessary. Though, there is one more consideration for if it does.”

“What’s that?”

“Hate to put you on the spot, Miss V,” Dex explains, “but if shit goes sour, I’m gonna need to know who I’m letting into the hotel. Mask can’t go with to Konpeki, so I’d sure feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what was hiding behind that thing.”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”

Even if she’d have Jackie with her when shit goes down, Dex is trusting her with this heist. The least she can do is trust him to see her face and not write her off or sell her out to The Herd if the chance arised. Not that she can see that happening anyway…

“Don’t even know why you wore the thing in, V,” Jackie teases.

“Well, there are other fixers here, didn’t want to give away my face…”

V carefully pulls off her mask, feeling exposed all over again, a new set of eyes on her face. The merc knows how she looks; five feet with a head of bleach blonde hair and big gray eyes. Not the picture one conjures in their mind when they think of a capable, strong, badass merc. Sprinkle in her disability and the reactions to her deafness; most people think she’s not a threat, weak.

“That what you’ve been hiding behind that mask? All that fuss, for what?” Dex laughs.

“Hard to take,” she stumbles over her English trying to sign at the same time, “be taken- seriously sometimes when you’re five foot nothing, deaf, and look like…”

“Gutterpunk Barbie,” Jackie cuts in to tease, earning him a sharp kick to the shin.

“Fuck off.”

“Trust me, Miss V, you pull off this job; ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna underestimate you”

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?”

“I got a question. When do we get to the real reason we're all here?” Jackie asks, shooting a wink V’s way.

“Now's a good a time as any. Fresh talent gets thirty percent always, but I'm willin' to make an exception in your case. I'ma cut you a nice, juicy forty as a bonus for your honesty, V.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Ka-ching baby!~”

“Last thing, Konpeki's got a strict no-iron policy. Security gates, the works. So you dawgs'll leave your lead-spitters in the ride, take the Flathead inside in its case.”

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.”

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.”

“So, not to count chickens, but when'll we see our eddies?”

“All depends how Ms. Parker unrolls herself or her role, but a week, two tops is my guess.”

“And what do we do in the mean time?”

“You sit tight, heads down, 'cause ol' uncle Arasaka be watching. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg says, life's a banquet - so don't go thirsty, but don't get drunk, either,” he tells them as he leaves the booth, “Your chariot awaits outside.”

“My cue to delta, too. Gotta prep to jack in, be there when you come on comms. Any other issues, now's your chance,” T-Bug tells them, shifting her feet and something catches V’s eye. Delta V emblazoned on the netrunner’s boots, was that there before?

“Plan - your take?” V shakes the thought from her head, must be a brand or a runner thing V doesn’t know.

“Enough, I hope, to put me in a luxury Creton Villa from which I'll never set foot in cyberspace again.”

“Send me a postcard?”

“No offense, but I'm gonna burn any and all bridges - need a clean break.”

“Gonna take Misty’s bracelet with you?” Jackie teases, grinning because he caught it too.

“Shut up,” she tells him, rolling her eyes.

“Uh, just realized something, what’s gonna happen to our clothes? I don’t want to lose my mask…”

“No worries, put them in the boxes, we’ll have ‘em sent back to your places.”

“Alright then, lets get this show on the road.”

“Let's get to work, go ahead and get changed, Delamain is parked out front, uh, okay-”Bug starts to trip over her words when the two mercs start taking off their jackets, “you can use the bathrooms.”

“Eh,”

Jackie and V shrug their shoulders, the outfits are right there. Not much point in dragging them out to the bathroom. The pair shared a bedroom for the better half of six months, a room with one bed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty, boundaries destroyed a long while back.

“Why do I bother,” T-Bug rolls her eyes and leaves the booth, letting the pair change.

V kicks off her boots and takes off her socks, Jackie tugging off his jewelry first.

“So, you’re nerves still going crazy?” Jackie asks her as she tugs off her shirt, his own tossed off.

“What do you mean?” She tugs off her pants, both mercs soon standing around in their underwear.

“Can’t hide that shit from me, chica, been giving me twice as much hell as usual. You’re freaking out.”

“High stakes, Jack, of course I’m a nervous mess. Means I give a shit.”

She pulls the slack on and tugs on the white blouse, buttoning it up. The two of them putting on the corpo clothes, similar in look. Black slacks, white button up tops, black suit jackets, and Misty’s beaded bracelets for protection. Each perfectly tailored for their body types.

“Don’t sweat it so much, V, we got this.” He sticks his fist out.

“Sure fuckin’ hope so.” She bumps her fist to his.

Their street clothes are packed away in the boxes, V puts in her optic contacts and slide on her heels, then they start to make their way out of the booth. But, Jackie stops her with a hand on her shoulder and he taps his throat. She catches on taking off her choker translator, neck feeling bare and odd without the tech. With that they leave out through the club, Jackie carrying the Flathead case and the smaller merc keeps her head down as best she can. Her stomach still in knots as they spot the Delamain in the parking lot.

Her life is about to change forever; hopefully for the best. She’s on the cusp of having everything she’s wanted since she’s come to the city. The verge of earning the respect of everyone in this city and finally feeling like she’s someone, like she’s done something.

So, why does she feel like she’s about to puke?

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #jackie welles #t-bug #dexter deshawn #female v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #original female v

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elocinnicole · 4 years ago

Text

Butterflies Part Two

Pairing: Collin x Black!Reader, Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Collin and Reader try to figure out where they stand after their moment a few nights ago.

Rating: M for language

AN: I changed Collin’s major to Creative Writing/Poetry. I don’t know why I didn’t do this in the first place, I was over here thinking of what major would Collin have, and it went over my head so yeah, here it is. Again, this is still set in 2020. Let me know if you want to be tagged. There are about two more parts to this

Part One Part Two Part Three

Shaunice Jasmine Turner was born in the wee hours of the morning on July 26, 2020. You were so happy for your friends and the little family they were building.

“You look pretty comfortable holding Shaunice, Y/N.” Ashely teased, it was just the two of you for now. Collin went with Miles to get some breakfast for Jasmine and to pick up Sean so he could meet his little sister.

“Girl bye, I mean the thought has crossed my mind, but I want to have my salon up and running before I even think about having kids.”

“Bish, I used to say that about my non-existent art gallery, and I got two kids now.”

“I mean you could still paint, Ashley.”

“I could, but painting don’t pay the bills. The rent is ridiculous and trying to get a loan from the bank…” Ashely trailed off

“But it’s all good, I wouldn’t change anything,” Ashely smiled at her daughter, “So, what happened when Collin came back from Val’s?”

“Uh, nothing I twisted his hair and that’s when we got the text from Miles.” Ashely examined your face; she’s known you long enough to know when you’re lying.

“Y/N, give me the baby.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re avoiding eye contact, give me my daughter.” You playfully huffed and handed over Shaunice to your friend, “Now, tell me what really happened last night?”

“Well, when he came back, I was a little mad because I’m over here actually being a friend and he drop everything for a booty call. He’s staying with me rent-free, I visited him when he was locked up, put money on his books, shit, I used to let this nigga cheat off me in Chemistry back in high school. Then he tries to kiss me—”

“He what!”

“Yeah and I don’t know what to think about that, because I know that once Val calls, he gonna run after her, like what is it? Does sis have some magic pussy or some shit?”

“Y/N…”

“I know that’s your friend, but she never once checked on him and I don’t know. I’m right in front of him and he doesn’t see me.”

“Make him see you, sis.”

“Well, how the hell do I do that?”

“Bring another nigga around,” You looked wide-eyed at your friend

“Ash!”

“Girl, bye, what about that chef you was tellin’ me about? Hit him up and bring him around Collin.”

“So, you think making him jealous is gonna work?” Ashely didn’t have time to answer because Sean came bursting into the room running over to Ashely’s bed

“Is she here? Is she here Mom?!” Sean asked bouncing with excitement

“Calm down, baby. Yes, she’s here, where’s Dad?”

“Right here, as soon as we got off the elevator he ran off. He’s been asking about the baby since we picked him up from Ms. Nancy’s. Here’s your food babe.” Miles placed the take-out bag on the table and kissed Ashely’s forehead, Collin trailed behind and once he looked at you he adverted his eyes somewhere else.

“Sean, go use the bathroom then you can hold your sister. Miles can you take Shaunice so I can eat, I’m starving.”

“So, what were you two talking about before we got here?” Miles asked,

“Nothing much, I asked Ashely if you were gonna give her a push present.”

“The fuck is that?”

“A present for pushing out your baby!” You nudged Miles’s shoulder.

“What you want baby, a gift card, or some shit like that?”

“Miles, you can’t get her no damn gift card.” Collin reasoned

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because that’s a boring-ass gift, you gotta get her some jewelry or a car, shit like that.”

“Baby, I can hit up my boy Cuttie—”

“Hell no, every time you get something from Cuttie, it’s either stolen or it don’t work.”

“Ash, that’s not true!”

“What about the bike you got from him for Sean’s birthday? Cuttie stole it!” You said

“I ain’t know that shit when he gave me that bike!”

“Then you bought Ashely that purse for Christmas and the Gucci was spelled wrong.”

“It was not, Collin!”

“Babe, Gucci only got two c’s.” Miles looked stunned for a moment before sucking his teeth

“How the hell was I supposed to know that!” Your phone then went off several times even surprising you.

“Who hittin’ you up, Y/N?” Miles teased

“Nobody, just a friend”

“Stop lyin, Y/N, got a date with this ‘friend’ tonight,” Ashely announced earning a glare from you.

“Oh shit, for real!” Miles exclaimed

“Yeah, he’s nice, um he just moved out here from Detroit. He’s a chef and has his own meal prep business.” It wasn’t a lie, you had met a guy on Tinder a few weeks ago and the two of you have been talking to one another.

“So, he be making all that vegan shit?”

“What’s vegan shit?” Sean questioned innocently

“Miles!” Ashely slapped his arm

“What? I cuss all the damn time, it was gonna happen sooner or later babe.” Ashely glared at her husband not amused in the slightest “Alright, alright, Sean don’t say ‘shit’ it’s a bad word, now come over here and sit down in the chair and I’ll let you hold your baby sister.”

While Miles and Ashely were introducing Sean to Shaunice, Collin walked over to you wanting to know more about your ‘date’.

“So, what’s this guy’s name?”

“Um, I’m sorry since when did I have to answer to you, Collin?”

“I’m just askin’ his name. Want to know the person who’s taking my friend out.”

“You’ll find out tonight—”

“Hey, guys!” Everyone’s heads turned toward the door and there stood Val with various pink balloons and a teddy bear

“Hey, Val!” Ashely greeted, she practically ran over to Ashely and engulfed her in a hug.

“Congratulations, girl.” Val looked over at Miles and her smile faded slightly

“You too, Miles,” She looked over at Collin and acted like he wasn’t even there. At that point, you wanted to slap the hell out this bitch, but this wasn’t the time.

“Guys, I have appointments today I gotta head out. I’ll visit when you get home, okay?” Ashely nodded, understanding your need to leave the room.

“See you later?”

“Yeah, bye guys, and congrats again.”

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror getting ready for your date with Trevon. The two of you had been texting one another all day, you even FaceTimed him briefly between clients.

“I don’t wanna spit, I wanna gulp, I wanna gag, I wanna choke, I want you to touch that lil dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat.” You rapped along to the song that made you feel like a bad bitch, Trevon didn’t give you much of a hint as to what the two of you were going to do tonight, but he said to be casual. So, you didn’t go too overboard with your outfit. This was your first date in a while because of your schedule you didn’t have time to date between the hair and makeup clients, on the day you didn’t have to work you stayed home or hung out with friends or your big brother.

“Alright, you got this.” You said to yourself in the mirror, “You a bad bitch. You the baddest bitch, period.”

You came out of the bathroom and immediately bumped into Collin.

“My bad didn’t see you there.”

“Your date is here.” Collin went into the bathroom closing the door firmly. You rolled your eyes at your friend and walked out to the living room to finally see your date, Trevon.

“Wow, you look great, Y/N.” Trevon beamed, you smiled shyly in return

“Thanks, you do too. You ready to go?”

“After you,”

You carefully shut the front door to your apartment not wanting to wake up Collin, knowing that he was a light sleeper and this was his only day off. You couldn’t help but smile about your date with Trevon last night. After he picked you up, he took you to play mini-golf and then after you went go-cart racing. It honestly the most fun you ever had on a first date. Not wanting to go home, the two of you ended up bar hopping the rest of the night until the two of you passed out on his sofa. The smell of breakfast pulled you of your thoughts. You made your way to the kitchen only to see Val in your kitchen cooking at your stove wearing only one of Collin’s Oakland shirts and underwear.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, hey Y/N. You want breakfast?”

“What are you doing here, Val?”

“Collin invited me over last night.” She smirked going back to cooking.

“Can you please put some pants on?”

“Well, Collin doesn’t seem to have a problem with what I’m wearing.”

“Hm, that’s cute but this isn’t Collin’s place, it’s my place and I don’t want your ass cheeks out in my kitchen. ‘Kay?”

“Whatever.”

“Um, where’s Collin?”

“He’s in the shower, I think. Oh, do you have any almond milk?”

“No, bitch I drink soy.” You mumbled storming past her heading for the bathroom. You angrily opened the door surprising Collin, who quickly reached for his towel to cover himself.

“What the fuck, Y/N! Can you knock?”

“What the hell is she doing here?!”

“Oh, what, I can’t have guests over?”

“That’s not the point, why in the fuck is she cooking in my kitchen with no clothes on!”

“She was hungry, what was I supposed to do?”

“Collin, I need you to tell me when you have company.”

“I don’t see why I have to tell you,”

“It’s the principle, Collin! What if you came home and my date, dick swingin’—”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Collin frowned, not appreciating the imagery

“Shut up, making breakfast in the damn kitchen?”

“This isn’t even about the principle it’s about you not liking Val!”

“No, it’s because you living in my place RENT FREE and I need to you who you have up in here!”

“Oh, so that’s what this is all about?” You rubbed your temples in frustration

“No, Collin—”

“Collin, breakfast’s ready,” Val called through the door.

“Go eat with your guest, wouldn’t want your food to get cold.” You said before leaving the bathroom.

#Buterflies Series #Blindspotting Imagine #Blindspotting #Collin Hoskins x Plus Size!Reader #Colllin Hoskins x Black!Reader #Miles Turner #Ashley Turner #Daveed Diggs #Rafael Casal #Jasmine Cephas Jones #Daveed Diggs x Reader #Daveed Diggs x Black!Reader

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prolestariwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Triple Play

➔Fandom: Resident Evil ➔Rating: Explicit ➔Characters: Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira

➔Summary: Chris and Jill have been partners for years, but he never actually considered her a woman before. When he finds out more about her dating life than he ever wanted to know, it starts to make him re-evaluate his own (lack of) love life. Beta read by @solynacea.

My first RE fic, and of course it’s a smut oneshot! Hope you all like it. It’s also on AO3, so visit me there!

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Chris remembers that Jill is a woman about two years after Raccoon City. They are finishing up a briefing and looking forward to a few days off when Capriotti makes a joke about Jill wearing lipstick. He hadn’t noticed himself, and turns his head to see that she is, indeed, wearing some color of pink on her lips. She’s also wearing eye makeup, subtle but there, and a shimmering top under her jacket. He guesses he didn’t pay close enough attention earlier, just acknowledging her when she arrived and launching into the gains they’d made until the meeting wrapped up.

Capriotti cracks a joke about a hot date, and Jill replies slyly, “Don’t you know it.”

Chris frowns as the others guys laugh. “Who is it?” Capriotti pushes.

“Yeah, I asked you out like five times,” Sami complains.

Jill makes a face. “How do you know it’s a guy?”

“It’s not?” Capriotti howls, half laughing and half in shock. “You’re not serious!”

“You afraid I’m getting more pussy than you?” she jokes.

The group continues to laugh but Chris tunes out. Jill is…? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but how didn’t he know? Should he have known? He wishes he didn’t know now.

He gives her a little signal as the group heads out and she walks over to where he stands at the head of the table. “What’s up?” she asks.

“Uh…” Chris clears his throat, looking up to check and make sure the rest are gone. “I was just wondering… I mean, I didn’t know you were a lesbian.”

Jill’s eyes go wide and then she bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding me? I was just messing with those guys.”

“Okay. Not that you couldn’t be. I was just surprised you hadn’t mentioned it.”

Chris’s face is hot but Jill just shrugs. “Not like we have time to date. Or talk about dating. I guess it never came up.” She laughs again and shakes her head. “But no, I’m not a lesbian. If I change my mind, though, you’ll be the first to know.”

She’s teasing him, he can tell that much, but he stammers a bit as he asks, “So, who are you seeing? Someone I know?”

“Yes, actually,” she replies, with a little grin. “Carlos Oliveira.”

“Oliveira?” Chris repeats, his brows drawing together. “The guy from Raccoon City? The Umbrella guy?”

“He’s not the Umbrella guy,” Jill corrects. “But yes, him. He’s with the UN now doing anti-terrorism work. And we actually both have time off together for once, so I’m spending it with him.”

Chris nods, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “Didn’t realize you had stayed in touch.”

She gives a shrug. “We see each other when we can. I like him. He’s not at all like most of the guys I meet. They either want to see Miss Badass become their sex slave or want me to step on their balls.”

He goes red again at the idea. “What?”

“You know what I mean. But Carlos just wants me. It’s refreshing.” She tilts her head for a second, considering him. “You should have some fun while we have a few days off. Go out on a date or something.”

“I date,” he argues. Jill gives him a look that shows she definitely doesn’t believe that at all, so he hurries to clarify, “Plus, like you said, we don’t have time for it.”

She pats him on the arm and turns for the door. “Anything else? I have reservations.”

“No, but does that mean we’re not meeting Tuesday?” he asks.

Jill shoots him a look over her shoulder. “No, we’re not meeting on Tuesday. I’m on vacation. As are you. So no check-in this week. Plus,” she adds with a grin, “if I’m lucky, I won’t be able to walk by then.”

He makes a face, and she laughs as she heads out the door. The room is blessedly silent, but that leaves Chris with his thoughts, which are now filled with Jill on a date and that is just too weird for him. So he picks up his stuff and heads out, hurrying back to his apartment.

Yet all the way up the elevator his brain can’t stop thinking. Jill, and that guy? His partner Jill, Jill who could shoot a zombie right between the eyes at twenty yards, Jill who was the only one on the team who didn’t throw up in the sewer when they were chasing a monster that had been mutated with three different virus strains? Jill. Dating Carlos.

Chris had met him, of course, after Raccoon City. The second he had gotten word of what went down, he caught the first flight back to the States to find the rest of S.T.A.R.S. Hearing that his sister had headed that way only made his panic worse, so when he arrived at the Red Cross encampment, he was only able to stay long enough to find out that almost everyone was dead before he was getting pulled to go work. Jill had seemed fine, shaken and exhausted but okay, and she had introduced him to Carlos, saying he had saved her. But Chris’ eyes went immediately to the red and white emblem on his shoulder, and barely heard another word as he promised to check in once he got a hold of Claire.

That guy? It’s so hard to picture. He’s not even Jill’s type. Jill’s type is…

Chris draws a blank. She’s mentioned dating before, right? He frowns as the elevator slows. Maybe, maybe not? But he knows for sure she’d never go for that type, the tall-dark-and-handsome or whatever. Too cliche.

Why do you care? his brain scoffs. Not like he’s interested, which he is not. Chris clears his throat, thinking that’s even weirder. Jill is… Jill. Not a sister really, not like Claire, because he doesn’t have the undeniable instinct to protect her at any cost. He doesn’t need to, because Jill can do fine on her own. Jill is his buddy. His partner. His pal. So why do you care?

“I don’t,” he says aloud, as the elevator doors open.

There are two agents on the other side who give him a funny look, and he sheepishly steps around them. He heads to his apartment in the officers’ building, relieved when he’s finally inside. Almost two weeks off, maybe a bit more if the world doesn’t end and they aren’t needed back immediately, and Chris decides he’s going to enjoy it. He’s going to relax and do some reading and… something. He’s got two weeks to figure it out.

Go out on a date or something.

He huffs at that as he moves around his kitchen, making some pasta. Date who? Nobody on the team, and everyone else is either under him or over him, so it’s all too awkward. There is the staff at the agency who keep the machine working, and he remembers Lisa from lab reception. “See? I date,” he says to the empty apartment. He had taken Lisa out to dinner after she had dropped some subtle hints at being interested, like “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” Chris grins smugly at himself as he stirs macaroni. The relationship didn’t really go anywhere after a few months; too hard to be away for days or weeks at a time, even though Lisa was good-natured about it. She was sweet in bed too, but not exactly his style. “I date,” he says again, as if to confirm.

The pasta and sauce are ready so he takes his bowl to the living room to find a game to watch. This is how you enjoy a vacation, he decides. Feet up, comfort food, America’s pastime on television. He sinks into the cushions as the third inning starts, feeling satisfied. Better this than getting all dolled up to go out, get sweaty, and meet someone for a night that goes nowhere.

Yet all that thinking about Jill and Carlos and Lisa has made him realize it has been a while. A real long while, and when he puts aside his empty bowl his mind starts to wander. His hand rubs against his crotch, soothing the erection growing underneath his sweats, and he thinks about Lisa. Lisa with the blond curls and the little dimple on her left ass cheek. She liked him on top, but he pictures her on his lap, dragging her fingers through his hair. It’s her hand that is fisting his cock, and Chris lets go a grunt as he lifts his hips to tug the waistband down enough to free it, giving in to the fantasy.

He sighs and tilts his head back, almost feeling her hair brushing his face as she strokes him boldly. But Lisa was never exactly bold in bed, so when he opens his mind’s eye it’s not her, but Jill on his lap. She’s wearing a t-shirt pulled too tight over her chest, and when his free hand reaches out to grab onto her hip, he realizes she’s wearing nothing else.

Jill says his name with her signature smirk before kissing him, and in his confusion he accepts. His hand moves faster, the end inevitable now, and he wonders how her lean body would feel against his, so much tighter and stronger than Lisa’s soft little self. His fingers dig into his thigh just as they would dig into her hip and he comes, pleasure sharp and intense and unexpected as it runs down his fingers.

Chris opens his eyes, breathing heavily as he shakes himself back to reality. “What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up slowly to reach for the box of tissues. He might as well be in goddamn eighth grade, getting lost in a vivid daydream like that and not having the sense to prep for cleanup. What the hell is wrong with him?

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Four days later, Chris is bored. A guy like him who is used to action doesn’t do well without anything to keep him occupied. He works out and goes shopping and works out some more, but after going down to the bar around the corner for a drink and dinner, he realizes that vacation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And it’s too late now to call Claire and invite her somewhere, especially since she’s in California or something.

He needs to get out of this rut, so Chris makes a decision. He sends an email to the team and invites everyone over for poker the next night. He grins as one acceptance after another comes through, jokes ranging from Captain? You dying or something? to Get your money ready, making him chuckle. But then he is surprised when Jill emails him too: I’d love to come, alright if I bring Carlos?

It’s fine, he answers back, but what happened to not being able to walk?

It takes a full five minutes to get an answer back, and Chris smirks to himself at being able to surprise Jill Valentine. But eventually she does answer: I’m a girl of many talents. Damn her.

The next night is plenty fun. He splurges on the good beer and even an excellent bottle of bourbon, figuring if he can’t spend his salary on booze, what else is there? Peterson brings cigars and there are eight of them that wind up playing, including Carlos, who fits right in with the group well enough that Chris can pretty much ignore him and the way his hand sits on Jill’s thigh.

They play a few rounds but they end up talking more than looking at cards, so the game evolves into a proper party of drinking and stories. Chris orders pizza and when it arrives, the crowd gathers in his kitchen to eat and he realizes Jill is missing. He heads down the hallway to check the bathroom but finds it empty. So is his office, and curious, he pokes his head into the bedroom. That’s also empty, but he hears something in the master bath, and without even thinking he walks through the room and opens the door.

Chris finds them alright. Carlos is fucking her against his sink, their arms locked around one another, her shirt pushed up and her jeans dangling from one knee and his jeans in a puddle around his ankles. He comes to a stop as his eyes go wide, watching in a weird moment of frozen time, noticing how they’ve knocked over his little container of cotton swabs and that the mirror is steamed up from their breath. Then Jill gives a yelp that shakes him back to present, and he gets a quick glance of Carlos’ dick pulling out of her flushed folds before yelling, “Shit, sorry!” and promptly closing the door.

He is sure his face is red when he returns to the others, but they must assume it’s the alcohol because no one says anything. Jill and Carlos join them a few minutes later, and he feels distracted, not because of what they were doing, but because he is oddly curious if they finished or not.

The evening winds down and everyone helps clean up a bit before they say their goodbyes, and somehow he ends up alone with Jill and Carlos as the only ones left. “Let me help you with this stuff,” she says, and he notes the blush on her cheeks as she fills her arms with empty bottles and cups and walks to the kitchen.

Chris is about to go after her when Carlos pats him on the arm. “Hey, man,” he says. “Sorry about earlier.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” Jill reappears, laughing and shaking her head. “That was not the right place or time.”

“Didn’t think anyone would catch us if we snuck off,” Carlos offers, laughing too. “You scared the hell out of us though.”

“Sorry.” Chris chuckles, thinking that this should be awkward and glad that it’s not. “Hey, at least the place saw some action. Not like there’s a lot going on in that department.”

He gives another laugh, but the other two don’t find the humor. “Don’t say that,” Carlos replies. “Guy like you is probably beating the girls off with a stick.”

“Not exactly,” Chris says. He pushes a chair under the table to cover his embarrassment. “But really, it’s fine.”

“I take full responsibility.” Carlos puts a hand up as if swearing an oath. “It was all my idea. I just can’t keep my hands off her.”

“Carlos!” Jill scolds, holding her forehead in her hand.

He points at her with a grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault. You’re fucking gorgeous. And your ass in those jeans? I mean what is a man supposed to do with that?” He turns to Chris with a smile. “I mean, you know what I mean, right man?”

“Chris doesn’t think like that,” Jill teases. “He is too respectful.”

“Well you’re disrespectful in those jeans.”

“Carlos.”

“I don’t,” Chris interjects. They both turn from their fun to look at him, and he hurries on, “I mean, think that way about Jill.”

Carlos makes a face. “What? Are you telling me you two never…?”

“Never!” laughs Jill.

“I’m surprised,” he says. “I wouldn’t be able to do a thing if I looked at her all day.”

Chris shrugs. “Sorry. I just never thought of her like that.” He glances over, surprised that she is frowning. “What? Are you mad or something?”

“No,” she protests. “But you didn’t have to be so adamant about it.”

He opens his mouth to argue before he remembers that he did, in fact, think of Jill that way, just the other day, not three feet from where they were all standing. “So you want me to then?” he laughs.

Jill rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if you do or not. All I’m saying is that if you did, you wouldn’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Chris clears his throat. “We’re partners. Not exactly appropriate.”

She sighs and walks towards him, her arms folded. “Chris, when are you gonna get over bullshit like what’s appropriate? We spend our whole lives fighting biological weapons, killing monsters, saving people. Every single day. We leave here on each mission not knowing if we’re coming back. Not knowing who is going to get infected or shot or bitten, if you’re going to have to pull the trigger or if I am.” Jill is standing in front of him now, barely an inch away, and he searches her face, wondering when this turned serious. “So when I’m not killing monsters and hunting people who want to see me dead or worse, I’m going to do what I want. I’m not spending the time I do have worrying about what’s appropriate. And if I want to have sex with someone, then I’m going to fucking have sex.”

He gives a huff, not quite a laugh, not sure what she’s trying to say. “I understand,” he replies.

“Do you?”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I did think about you like that. Jerked off to it too.”

The words are out before he can stuff them back in, and his eyes go wide the second they are released. Panic rises in his throat for the longest second of his life as Jill’s mouth opens in an O of surprise; but then she smiles and presses her palms to his chest. “Did you really?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he chokes out.

Jill then does the last thing he expects. She leans up and kisses him, pressing her mouth firmly on his, one of her hands moving to cup the back of his neck. She should be slapping him or something, calling their supervisor, maybe shooting him? But instead she tilts her head and gives his lower lip a little bite, and a split second later he puts his arms around her waist and pulls her against him.

Her mouth opens and his follows suit. Her tongue rolls into his mouth, sliding along his, sending a little thrill up his spine. Chris realizes he had been right; she feels nothing like anyone else, her body somehow both solid and light as he presses her firmly to him.

Jill breaks the kiss suddenly, and he stares at her in shock as she blinks up at him. “Is this okay?” she asks.

Chris is about to answer when she looks to the side, and he realizes she’s talking to Carlos. He gives a start, releasing his grip; how did he forget Carlos was standing there and watching? The guy will deck him for sure.

Carlos nods, a little smile on his face. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

A million and one questions instantly flood his mind but her mouth is on his again, and Chris can’t deny the absolutely undeniable pull she has. Jill has always been like this, hasn’t she? Like a rocket, or an anchor, or a little beacon that pulses and makes people shut up and listen.

Which is what he should be doing now instead of listing adjectives in his head. “Sit,” she says, and Chris realizes she’s pulled him to the couch. Her hands push his shirt up and he helps her remove it before he sits, and Jill steps between his legs, leaning down to slide her touch along his arms.

“You good?” she asks, and her concern is almost touching.

“Yeah,” he replies.

He watches with great interest as she unbuttons her jeans and shimmies out of them, pulling her underwear down with them. Chris’ heart beats faster to see her slim thighs that curve up into perfect hips, his favorite part of a woman. Her stomach is flat with the hint of muscle underneath, her waist tiny and trim and making him start to get hard before his eyes even fall to the place between her thighs. As if she knows, Jill presses her hand against her sex, rubbing herself as she climbs onto his lap.

Her knees straddle him and she reaches for her shirt, but Chris stops her. This is it, his fantasy that he had conjured, and he takes a minute to just enjoy Jill Valentine half naked on his lap and the tight anticipation of what her chest is going to look like bare and what she is going to feel like sliding onto his dick. His hands press against her thighs and he slides them up, tracing the path his eyes took over hips and stomach and waist until he grazes the underside of her bra.

Jill shifts on his lap and Chris catches sight of Carlos. He is leaning against the table where they played cards on the other side of the room, just watching, his hand rubbing himself on the outside of his jeans. And fuck is that hot, knowing he’s watching and enjoying as he gets ready to fuck his girlfriend—what the fuck is wrong with him? He’s not this kind of guy, he doesn’t do kinky shit like this, he doesn’t get off on having sex in front of people or fucking his partner or having sex without at least buying dinner first and the pizza didn’t count at all.

“Hey,” Jill murmurs, tilting his chin up. “You still with me?”

“We really doing this?” he asks stupidly.

She snorts. “Yeah. If you want to.”

Fuck-shit-damn yes he wants to, his cock is like steel now at the very idea. He wants to do this. He wants to give up control and hand it over, stop playing by rules that don’t work and write some of his own. He wants to stop being in charge for one night and let someone else make decisions, wants to follow instead of lead, wants to be anyone other than Chris Redfield, special agent. He wants to fuck the girl every man wants as her boyfriend watches, and that nearly short circuits his thinking.

So maybe it’s not such a surprise that he says the dumbest sentence ever uttered, one that later he’ll think about and want to kick his own ass. “But you’ve already had sex tonight.”

Carlos chuckles from where he stands and Jill laughs along, stroking his cheek. “I got a special dispensation from the president,” she says, before sealing her mouth on his in a kiss.

She is cool and light against him, and Carlos was right, her ass is perfect. He grips her backside and squeezes as she grinds on his lap. Jill groans into his mouth and Chris realizes it’s because she’s rubbing herself against his erection, pressing up in a hard tent at the front of his jeans. Her fingers stroke against his shoulders and down his chest, running through the hair there and tracing along his pecs until they move lower, outlining his abdominals. She rolls her hips again and again and he can feel her getting his jeans wet, or maybe that’s him? Either way, he lets go of her long enough to open them, needing the relief more than ever.

Jill moves up on her knees to let him slide his pants down his hips, and she uses the opportunity to pull her t-shirt off over her head. Now she is left in only her bra, a lacy red thing that is so opposite of everything he knows about her that he can only stop and stare. He reaches up to carefully pull one cup down to expose her pink nipple, rubbing his thumb against the hard bud.

There is moisture leaking from the tip of his cock, and Jill uses it to stroke him, her hand tight as she pumps his length with quick, firm movements. Chris leans forward to lick her nipple, then presses his lips to her body, sucking lightly. Someone like her, would she even like the normal stuff? But she sighs in response, her other hand pressing to the back of his head to keep him there, and Chris uses his teeth and tongue to tease her until she is rubbing her sex against his.

Jill gives a groan, and he looks up to see that Carlos has moved behind her. He cups her chin up and to the side, his curls falling a bit to cover their kiss. Chris freezes momentarily, but then Carlos pulls away with a playful bite to her lip. “Does he feel good?” he murmurs.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Jill pants.

Carlos reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, handing it to her between two fingers. Jill snatches it and smiles at Chris as she tears it open, and he leans back on the couch, pressing his hands to the cushion. He watches in a sort of daze as she rolls it down his length, anticipation tightening his stomach as she leans up and angles him against her body before finally sinking down around him.

Chris lets out a hiss of pleasure as he throws his head back. Jill’s mouth is hot on his neck as she works to take him in, but with her slick body and the lubricated condom he slips inside with little trouble. She squeezes tightly around him, nearly taking his ability to breathe, before she pulls back and braces her hands on his shoulders.

When she starts to move, he risks a peek, groaning as the sight of her sends a jolt of excitement straight through his cock. Carlos is kissing her shoulder, undoing her bra and pulling it down her arms to toss it away before he grabs her bare breasts. She reaches up one arm to wrap around his neck as the other digs hard into Chris’ shoulder, and he watches in rapt attention as she fucks him while Carlos fondles her chest, delivering open mouthed kisses along her neck. Chris reaches up and presses his hands to her waist, dragging them over her hips as his eyes go downwards and giving another groan when his gaze falls on where they are joined, his cock disappearing in between her lips.

Jill stops the roll of her hips momentarily, keeping him buried inside of her, and he can feel her nearly pulsing around him. “She’s close,” Carlos says roughly, and Chris’ eyes snap up to his when he realizes he’s talking to him.

“Already?” he pants. Carlos nods, and Chris huffs a laugh. “So am I.”

Jill grins, opening her eyes as she bites her lower lip. “Can’t let this end too fast.”

She pushes off of him to stand, and Chris swallows a protest, his cock bobbing when it is released. But Jill grabs his pants and pulls them down his legs, and once they are removed she kneels on the carpet, carefully pulling the condom away. “I bet you taste delicious,” she says, and his eyes nearly roll back into his head when she lowers her lips onto his length.

Jill sucks him hungrily, making his head spin. Chris jerks upwards into her mouth, but fists his hands into the couch to let her work. Behind her, Carlos has pulled out his own cock and is stroking it freely, watching with dark, hooded eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he groans before going down on his knees.

As Carlos pushes her thighs apart and pulls her hips upwards, her moan vibrates along his cock as she swallows him completely. Her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks for as long as she can before coming up for breath, panting against his wet length as Carlos starts to fuck her from behind. “Slow,” she pants, and Carlos instantly eases his pace. Her eyes meet Chris’ and stay there as she rolls her tongue around the head of his cock; then she is swallowing him again, the sensation nearly driving him mad with desire. It strikes him that he never understood before why someone would want it like this, least of all a woman, finding porn like this vulgar and strange: but now he realizes that it’s because she’s in control, with two men ready to worship her body, and Chris is willing to give her anything in this moment.

Soon he is close again, and he hisses her name. Jill pulls off and grips his cock, stroking him quickly as her mouth drops down to press her tongue against his sac. Carlos starts to move faster, drawing a whine from Jill’s throat, and when she shudders against him, Chris realizes she’s coming. It sends him right over the edge, his body tightening almost painfully before his seed spills out in a great spurt that she quickly moves her mouth to swallow. Carlos holds her firmly by the waist as she trembles, but Chris can only focus on her lips sliding along his cock in time with the pulsing that rocks deeply through him. He lifts his hips to push in further with the final waves of pleasure, and Jill swallows him with a sigh that she releases when he finally slides his cock from her mouth.

Carlos pulls her closer to him, and he muffles a groan against her shoulder as he jerks his hips. Jill looks up at Chris, their eyes locking as she licks her lips, and Chris swallows thickly, knowing Carlos is finishing inside of her. His erection is softening, but not nearly as fast as it usually does, and when she turns her face to kiss Carlos and he watches her tongue slide into his mouth, his cock jerks uncomfortably.

She laughs a bit when Carlos finally releases her. “Damn,” Carlos sighs, rubbing her arms. “So fucking hot. Told ya, man.”

He is grinning at Chris, who nods, rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead. “Yeah,” he agrees lamely.

It feels so damn awkward now, but the other two don’t seem fazed, climbing to their feet as they chuckle together. Carlos yanks up his jeans before grabbing Jill, pulling her into a deep kiss as Chris looks up and watches. He remembers how he couldn’t believe they’d be together just days ago, and now he knows what an absolute idiot he is.

“Carlos and I are driving down the coast tomorrow,” Jill says, turning to look at him as Carlos kisses her neck. “Do you want to come? Spend a few days on the beach?”

“With you two?” he asks stupidly. Carlos lifts his head and Chris holds up a hand. “Yeah. Dumb question. Sorry.”

He stands awkwardly, wanting to put on some clothes, but Jill slides her hand over his hip. “Well? Do you want to come?”

The question makes his neck heat, and he nods. “Sure. Why not.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

They banter a bit as they get dressed, Chris just listening as he tries to figure out what to say. He spots the condom on the floor and quickly picks it up, and when he returns from throwing it away Carlos is at the door, grabbing his jacket. “Hey,” Jill says, stepping up to press her hand on his chest, just like she had before. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Chris answers. “I’m fine.”

“Be ready by ten.” Then she gives him a wink and they head out the door, Carlos slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gives a wave.

The door shuts behind them, leaving the apartment in silence and Chris standing with his pants half undone. “See? I have sex,” he says to the room.

#resident evil #chris redfield #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #re #fanfiction #re fanfic

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demonsandmischief · 4 years ago

Text

Love Times Three Pt. 1

A Marvel Two-Shot - Tony, Steve, OC

Captain America, Iron Man One-Shot, 1750 words

-Love Times Three (Part 1)-

Summary: Allie's life becomes entangled with those of the Avengers, and the power couple Steve and Tony both want her.

Note: This is an AU where everything is happy. Steve and Tony are in a relationship. Also, this will be a poly couple, mostly fluff. Please read at your own risk.

-----

"Steve, I told you to wrap your hands when you use a punching bag," Tony said when the captain had walked through the door of their home.

"I'm fine honey," Steve soothed, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. "I did wrap them at first, but the bandages kept getting in the way."

"I'm happy you're home. I missed you," Tony softly whispered. The couple only acted like this around each other. To the world, they had a tough exterior and a role to play, but together, they could finally be themselves.

"You know I always miss you, Tony," Steve said into his ear, rubbing his back in a loving manner.

Tony's cell phone ringing disrupted their moment, and the man gave an annoyed sigh before answering, "Stark."

"Tony, listen, there's been a situation," the voice of Rhodey comes through, concerning Tony who flashed a look to Steve.

"Cap's here. You're on speaker. Tell us what is going on," he said.

"Sam and I just freed a bunch of hostages for that mission I was telling you about."

The mission Rhodey was talking about was pretty simple. A terrorist group had kidnapped a coach bus travelling cross country, holding them all for ransom. That was pretty much the gist.

"I know the one," Stark said, his blue eyes meeting those of Captain's.

"Well, the place they went to, they found a girl who didn't belong and apparently has been kidnapped for a much longer time period."

"How is that an us problem?" Tony asked, dropping the attitude when Steve placed a warning hand on his shoulder.

"Nobody has claimed her. We don't know where she's from and she has not spoken one word. This one's in bad shape, guys, and we're a little unsure what to do," Rhodey said.

Steve spoke next, "Take her to the compound with you. Stark and I will be there in the morning for an update."

"Thanks, Cap," he said before ending the call.

Tony gave a huff, "You know, I really just wanted this to be an us weekend." He spun around, wrapping his arms around his man once more.

"I know," Steve bent his head to give Tony a soft kiss. "But maybe this is a bigger issue then we thought, and this girl might know something."

"Or we completely waste our time when there are plenty of things for us to do here."

"What kind of things?" Steve asked with a smirk, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

Tony stood up, pulling Steve's head down so he could reach the tall man's lips. The kiss was fiery and wet, and they both gave moans of approval.

"I'd give you more, but that was supposed to be a tomorrow thing," Tony said, trying to remain unaffected but his voice came out in pants.

"You're a damn tease, Stark," Cap said, swatting at his butt.

-----

The following morning, the pair headed out together. Tony griped the entire drive.

"Honey, after we check in and make sure everything is good here, we have the rest of the weekend together. I promise. I just can't ignore this feeling." Steve said, grabbing his man's hand and lacing their fingers.

They were greeted by Rhodey and Sam, who guided them to the room that the girl was staying in.

"We can't get her to eat, sleep, talk. Nothing," Sam said, as they looked at her through the one way glass.

She was a small girl, with long brown hair and doe-like eyes that were staring at the wall. Her shoulders were tense like she was prepping for an attack.

"Did you figure out her name?" Cap asked. Something was wrong here.

"No she hasn't said one word. Not even to Nat."

Tony shrugged, "Nat is terrifyingly intimidating though. What about Wanda?"

"We can't even bring her food. She freaks out when someone opens or closes the door. We thought she was going to pass out or have to be put on oxygen," Rhodey said.

"Let me go in," Steve said. For some reason, the pitiful girl was pulling at his heart strings.

"Cap, you're the biggest dude here."

Tony eyed him carefully, but didn't protest. Steve was soft-hearted and kind. He might actually be the perfect person for the job.

"This environment we're creating for her is obviously too similar to what she was in before. I want her to know she's not a caged animal," Steve said, clearing the way so he could open the door.

The girl noticed him immediately, pushing herself as far up against the headboard she could get, unable to move in sheer terror.

Steve was honestly at loss. How could he make himself look smaller and not scary?

He took a seat on the edge of the bed. "My name is Steve. I want to help you go home. You don't need to be afraid of me," he said as softly and sincerely as he could muster.

The girl was beautiful. She had soft features and big eyes. Her long hair accentuated the shape of her face. These thoughts were odd to the man that had only found his boyfriend attractive since he had been in the ice.

He sat there with her until she slowly calmed down. She relaxed from where she was pressed tensely against the bed.

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked, but received no response.

He asked her a few more questions, but she never said one word, she didn't even look at him.

"I won't ask anything else since you don't feel like talking," he murmured, standing to leave.

"Please," a faint, broken voice whispered, "please don't go."

"You don't want me to leave?" asked Steve.

The girl shook her head. "I don't like this room. I'm scared." The way she was acting broke his heart.

All of the rooms were the same. They were basically hospital rooms with the sterile, white look and feel.

"I can find you a new room. Let me talk to the others. I'll be right back, okay?"

She nodded once more.

Tony was the only one in the hallway watching through the glass. He had an odd look on his face.

"She's scared of the room," Steve said to him.

He took Tony's hand, walking them to some place empty, locking the door behind them.

"There's something about her, Steve," Tony whispered. "I hope you feel it too, or I am just making a fool of myself."

"No, honey," Steve comforted. He was relieved that he wasn't the only one combatting strange feelings. "I'm drawn to her and I don't know why."

"Maybe we were missing a piece of the puzzle all along," the smaller man said. They had given some thought to adding a third person to their relationship, but neither of them every felt comfortable enough to let their guard down. However, they were still two very dominant men that clashed often.

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves here. We don't know who she is yet."

Tony nodded his head, "I do love you, Steve."

"I love you with all my heart," Steve murmured, nuzzling his face in Tony's neck, leaving little kisses.

"Let's get her to stay with us. It won't be as overwhelming for her and she might open up more," Tony said.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't want it."

They'd have to get her comfortable with Tony first, so when the captain entered the girl's room a second time, he told her all about his boyfriend.

The sound of his voice alone comforted the girl, relaxing her immensely. He was the only one that stayed when she panicked.

"Would you like to meet him?" Steve asked gently, and the girl nodded, almost eagerly.

When Tony entered, she surprisingly didn't freak out.

Tony took a seat on the edge of the bed by Steve and introduced himself.

"I'm Allie," the girl whispered, gaining two blinding smiles.

"Allie, is somebody missing you?" Tony asked very gently, a tone he rarely used.

She frowned, shaking her head no. She reached up to rub her eyes and sniffled slightly.

Steve could sense her distress and longed to comfort her. He patted the bed closest to him and opened his arms. "Come here," he said.

She obeyed, moving to curl up close to the warm man who wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"It was my dad," she whispered. "He worked for the group that kidnapped those people. He knew I would say something so he locked me up."

"He locked you up?" Tony asked with disbelief. "For how long?"

"A long time. Years," Allie hid her face in Steve's side. Tony rubbed her back.

Steve and Tony shared a look. They were pissed that someone would do such a thing to a girl that was calm and kind.

"Did they do something to you other than lock you up?" Steve asked.

Allie made a distressed cry that gave them the answer they needed. Only time would tell what she had been truly been through, and it was safe to say that the two men were beyond upset.

There was something about Allie that drew them in. She was adorable first off, but she was also strong. No ordinary person would have made it through what she did.

"Allie, you told me you didn't like this room," Steve started.

"So Steve and I were thinking you could come stay with us at our house. What do you think?" Tony finished.

"Yes please," she whispered. Allie had always been alone, but with these two men giving her attention and being so caring, it felt like she finally had someone in her corner. They both were very attractive, but more importantly, they were patient and didn't look at her like she was a ticking bomb.

"I'll tell the others the news so we can get out of here," said Steve.

----

"What were the both of you doing in there with her and why wasn't she freaking out? Did you send Wanda in?" Natasha asked immediately, where she had been observing from the window.

"No, it was just us. Her name is Allie and she's going to go home with us. Can you tell the others so they aren't looking for her?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Steve? Maybe she needs to go to the hospital instead," Nat argued.

"It's what she wants. Stark and I both agree with her," Captain said with his no argumentment tone.

Nat nodded, "I'll tell the others."

----

A/N: I'm so excited for Part 2. The story is set up so the fluff can come now. :) Please don't plagiarize or post elsewhere. I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned!

#avengers #marvel #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #captain america #iron man #stevetony #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel one shot #sam wilson #black widow #steve rogers fluff #marvel imagine

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maybankiara · 4 years ago

Note

Some angsty Topper? Like Topper x Ex-Girlfriend? Idk I just love topper

LIGHT THEM ALL UP, KISS THEM GOODBYE

pairing: Topper Thornton x Reader

summary: The Thorntons invite your family over for dinner and considering their son is your ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend whom you haven’t spoken to since the breakup almost a year ago, you think there’s only one way the night could go down. Except you’re wrong.

word count: 4k

warnings: mild cursing

additional: heavy angst; i genuinely don’t know how this turned into an absolute monster but hey, i loved writing it.

requests are open

In retrospect, you should’ve told them something closer to the truth – but hey, hindsight is 20/20, right?

When your phone rings, you’re at the shopping mall with your friends on the mainland. It takes about twenty seconds of the phone call to ruin your entire day, all in an eight-word long sentence.

‘The Thorntons invited us over for dinner tonight.’

You’re told to wear something nice, and you tell your mother that she doesn’t need to worry about that. She asks if everything’s alright, and you lie through gritted teeth, saying you’re getting frustrated with being unable to find anything nice at the mall.

She buys it. You’re in the clear, at least with her. When you walk out of the changing room and your friends see your face, the only explanation you give them is, ‘My family is going over to Topper’s for dinner.’

They nod, sigh, gasp, and let you rage in silence for the rest of the trip as you wrap up sooner than planned, so you’d have enough time to get ready.

Mentally more so than physically, but somehow it’s almost the same thing.

It’s been almost a year since you broke up with Topper – or he broke up with you. You’re still not really clear on what happened, mostly because you decided to erase the whole thing out of your memory.

‘You okay?’ your best friend asks.

Wind blows into your hair as you’re on the boat for the island, and you know you’re going to need to wash it to get it all nice and prepped for the dinner.

You nod, because it’s half-true, and that’s enough. ‘I’m not too worried. It’s just one dinner.’

‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

‘Nah,’ you say, pulling a smile from somewhere. ‘I’m too tough for that.’

It appeases her enough so she doesn’t ask you any more questions, and you breathe out when she isn’t looking. The rest of your friends are chatting, and you join in from time to time, just enough so they wouldn’t question you again.

Nobody knows the whole story. Literally nobody, considering not even you and Topper know what happened.

One minute things were good, and the next you were screaming bloody murder at each other’s faces, and then never spoke again.

Truth be told, you don’t even know if you ever ended things. Topper just began dating Sarah Cameron sometime later, and you would hook up with both Kooks and Pogues at the keggers.

And now…

‘You sure you’re okay?’

You nod, smile again, and say that you are.

The more you say it, the more likely it is you’ll end up believing it.

Your friends drop you off at your house and you enter with three shopping bags, all filled with clothes that you somehow managed to like. You’re picky, usually – but as soon as your mom called about the dinner, you decided to go shopping for the best of the best.

‘Hello, Y/N!’ Your mother walks out of the conservatory, holding a book in her hand. ‘How was the trip?’

You raise the bags in response. ‘What’s the dress code?’

‘Casual fancy, I think. They weren’t specific.’

‘In that case, I got some stuff for tonight,’ you tell her. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

She smiles, earnestly, like she always does – she has no idea what’s going on in your head right now, but it’s not her fault. ‘I’m sure you’ll look great. Topper will be there, so you won’t be alone with the adults.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Since when is my brother considered an adult?’

‘Since he turned twenty-one, Y/N. Don’t be like that.’

Whatever, you think, because you thought at least you’d be able to count on your brother to keep you away from the Topper mess. Turns out that’s not the case, because your brother is a big boy now, swimming in the open waters, and it’s time for him to be thrown to the sharks.

There’s less than three hours until the dinner, so you hurry into the bathroom. You do all the preparations – shower, hair wash, blow drying (you make an attempt at a salon blowout except it really does not look like one) and prepping your skin for makeup.

‘Go light,’ your mother told you before you went to get ready.

It’s not like you’d go any other way – there’s no one to impress there.

So go with almost minimal makeup, just fixing up your blemishes, knowing it’s not worth suffering the heat with makeup on just for the Thorntons.

Just for Topper, your mind corrects, and you groan.

The dress you got for the occasion is a burgundy summer dress, made out of light material and loose below your waist, with short feathery sleeves and a modest cleavage that no one is going to give you shit about.

In it, you look and feel pretty.

A fleeting thought goes through your head; Is Topper going to care?

The car ride is quiet, but that’s the usual for your family. Your brother’s on his phone, texting someone; your dad’s dealing with business things on the passenger seat; and your mom is making sure you don’t crash as she drives.

It’s going to be a fun night.

As soon as you enter the Thornton mansion, memories begin to overflow your thoughts, and you have to blink them away. Topper’s father welcomes you and his expression softens when he sees you, and that’s how you realise that Topper hasn’t told his parents the truth, either.

A couple of liars – that’s what you were.

‘Hello,’ he says, ‘it’s lovely to see you all. Y/N, you look lovely.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Thornton.’

You smile at him and he smiles right back, leading you and your family into the dining hall. Did Topper tell them we remained friends, like I did? Your families were too interconnected to fall apart because of the two of you.

A couple of liars.

You’d know your way around here in your sleep.

The dining room, when you enter, is filled with chatter of Topper’s family and his siblings. There’s three Thornton children, and your ex-boyfriend is the middle one. His older brother is your brother’s age, and his sister is about ten years old. They’re all bringing food from the kitchen, and you’re assuming Topper’s the one maneuvering everything – he’s good at that.

You take a seat, and so does the rest of your family, and the Thorntons are as lovely hosts as ever. The polite chatter is keeping on and you’re smiling through the nervousness, ignoring the unease in the pit of your stomach, because you’re cool. You can stick through this.

And you manage to convince yourself of that – until Topper walks in, wearing a suit with the tie that you bought him for his seventeenth birthday, and his lands on you and everything just kind of…

It drifts away.

All you see is Topper. He’s standing at the doorway, frozen mid-step. His eyes are staring right into yours and your mind is replaying every single instance in which this has happened before – you see him right before your first kiss, before the first time you slept together, after you cried when your dad was in a car accident, after you consoled him when Rafe leashed out on him.

It all comes back in a single moment, and you inhale, sharply.

Topper looks away. The spell is broken.

It seems that nobody else has noticed what happened between the two of you, so the dinner continues as normal. You are sitting opposite Topper’s little sister and your brother is sitting opposite Topper’s older brother, and you don’t have to see Topper’s face throughout the whole dinner. Your parents make conversation, you smile and answer politely when asked; you know better than to let anyone know that you are deeply uncomfortable.

Thankfully, both your families consider themselves above the law, and you and Topper are allowed to drink despite being underage. You drink champagne, glass after glass, and out of the corner of you eye, you see him doing the same.

Where the fuck did we go wrong?

It’s been over an hour when the eating part of the dinner is finished. Topper’s sister miscalculated and the dessert she prepared is going to take longer, so the adults decide it’s time for chatter with alcohol.

It’s all good, until Topper’s father looks at you. ‘You don’t have to be with us, kids.’

You smile. ‘It’s all right, Mr. Thornton. I don’t mind.’

‘Oh, no need to be so polite, Y/N,’ your mother chimes in. ‘You don’t have to stay with us old people.’

‘Your mother is right!’ Topper’s mom says, grinning wide, alcohol already hitting her a little bit. She nudges the champagne bottle in your direction. ‘You kids go have fun.’

Your eyes meet your father’s, but you don’t find what you’re looking for – he’s not opposed to the idea. Your brother, on the other hand, seems a little bit bitter about you having the ability to go away, and he doesn’t even know how much you’d pay to be able to switch places with him.

Topper is the one who takes the champagne bottle. ‘Thanks, Mom. Tell us when the desert is ready, will you?’

Once this is arranged, Topper looks at you – he doesn’t say anything, not for a second, but you see the question in his eyes.

Are you okay with this?

You don’t say anything. He smiles at you, a charade for the families, and asks, ‘Shall we?’

‘Yes.’ You smile back.

It’s painful.

Topper’s sister follows the two of you to the upper floor, and you walk her to her room. She shuts the door in your faces – the classic Thornton behaviour. You chuckle, because this is far from the first time she’s done this to you, and then you stop yourself as soon as you become aware of what you’re doing.

‘Look—’

‘I don’t want to talk to you right now,’ you say.

Topper presses his lips together; you see him being on the verge of speaking up, but he doesn’t. He leads you to his room instead, gripping the champagne bottle in his hand.

You’re glad you’re the one carrying the glasses.

The moment you enter Topper’s room, closing the door behind you, is the moment the illusion you’d forced yourself to believe in shatters.

This is the place where you were in love.

Topper walks up to you and motions for you to hold the glasses upright. You do that, and he pours champagne in them. The bottle is almost full, but you have a feeling there is going to be nothing left in it by the time the two of you are called back down for dessert.

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ you tell him, without looking at him. ‘My mom just told me that we’re coming here.’

He doesn’t say anything. You raise your eyes to look at him, but he’s turned to you with his back, looking out of the window with a glass in his hands.

You feel awkward, out of place, and definitely somewhere you aren’t supposed to be.

The alcohol in you makes you chuckle; Topper turns around, looking at you with curiosity on his face.

‘Never thought I’d be back here.’ You motion to the room, but you mean the situation, and you feel like he knows. ‘Last time we were here—

‘Yeah,’ Topper cuts you off, ‘it wasn’t nice.’

Before you manage to think through your actions, you plop on the bed, sitting on your knees. Topper joins you, sitting right next to you, and you try to block away the memories you made on this exact bed.

You look at him and catch him looking at you. Your lips part and you’re almost about to say something, but it runs away from you.

Instead, you look at him, for the first time in almost a year.

His hair is a little longer, a little more loose and carefree. It’s blonder, too, and that’s from spending a lot of time in the sun. His cheekbones are more prominent, his jaw more chiselled, his lips fuller, his eyes bluer. He looks more grown up, less foolish, less likely to fuck you over.

You clear your throat. It’s not good to dwell on things that are no longer.

‘How’s you and Sarah?’

Topper holds your gaze for a second, then looks away, taking a big gulp out of his glass. ‘We broke up, over a month ago. Left me for a Pogue. Thought you’d heard.’

‘My friends know better than to talk about you.’

‘Wow. Nice.’

You’re the one who takes the big gulp, this time. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say that – but your mind is a little fuzzy, and all the things you’ve never said out loud are coming back up again against your will.

Maybe it’s the same for him. Maybe his mind, too, is going through the last time they were in this room together, trying to figure out what went wrong, trying to remember.

You finish the glass. Topper pours you another one, then does the same for himself.

‘Topper.’

‘Hm?’

It takes you a long second to shift in the bed so you’d be looking at him. You realise you don’t know what you’re about to say – it’s not your head saying it, it’s your heart, but you decide you’re beyond giving a fuck.

So you shrug and take a sip. ‘I’m sorry for being a shitty girlfriend.’

‘Don’t say that.’ He shakes his head, leaning against the head board. His shirt is wrinkled and the tie you got him looks a little off, but he looks exactly the way you remember him. ‘It wasn’t you who fucked it up.’

‘You’re wrong. I couldn’t – It was too much.’

His eyes hold your gaze again, and you feel the world slow down. You think of the screaming match and it’s the first time that you manage to recall what happened.

It hurts. It fucking hurts.

Topper chuckles, but it’s the dry kind, humourless. ‘No. I didn’t understand what I was doing. I thought I was doing all the things I was supposed to be doing, being caring and loving, and the only thing I was, was overprotective.’

You look at him, at notice that he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are glassy and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows, clearing his throat. ‘I kept doing things that weren’t okay and I blamed you when you thought they were too much. I accused you of – of things that I shouldn’t have seen as bad.’

‘Top, hey—’

‘Don’t, okay?’ He turns his head to you and the weight of his gaze is almost too much for you to bear. ‘I liked the idea of loving you, taking care of you, more than I was actually in love with you.’

You look away. His words echo in your head, and each time they do, it feels as if a part of your soul is being cut.

I liked the idea of loving you more than I was actually in love with you.

You feel sick, and it’s not the alcohol.

Time wears on and you don’t know if you’re getting more drunk, or if the tension between you two is going into an odd direction. It’s not uncomfortable, per se – it feels almost as if there’s something fundamentally wrong about the whole thing.

‘Fuck this, Topper. What the fuck were you thinking?’

He glances at you, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I keep fucking up. I didn’t even realise what I was doing.’

‘I was pissed off at you because you never listened to me when I said I was okay,’ you tell him, finally, for the first time. ‘I’d tell you that you don’t need to worry about me, but you’d go ahead and do it, and you’d tell me all those things, and I didn’t know how to react, and it got to the point where it was all too much to handle, and…and…Fuck, I don’t know anymore.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you from getting hurt and…’

You nod, chuckling, just as drily as he had before. ‘And you ended up being the one doing it.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck,’ you say again. You haven’t sworn this much in a long time, but it’s pouring out of you. ‘I couldn’t be with you because I thought you were too in love with me. Turns out you weren’t in love with me, at all.’

‘What?’

You glance at Topper, lazily, feeling the weight of the glass between your fingers. He looks a little hazy and it makes you smile; it makes you think of all the other memories you have of him looking hazy, and all of them fill your heart with warmth.

‘It’s okay,’ you reassure him. ‘I don’t think I would’ve let you love me, anyway. Even I couldn’t love myself back then.’

Topper stares at you for a long second, as if comprehending what you’ve just said. ‘No. No, Y/N, you’ve got it all wrong, and I have no idea where all this is coming from—’

‘Shh.’ You put a finger against his lips, giggling. ‘Stop talking. You’re going to ruin everything.’

Your fingers slips and Topper sighs, moving on the bed to be closer to you. You can smell his cologne – the fancy shit he’s always worn, the one that you loved the most.

‘What am I going to ruin?’

‘Everything,’ you whisper.

Topper shakes his head. ‘I already have.’

‘Not this moment. That’s still ours to take.’

‘You’re drunk,’ he states, and you laugh.

He leans his back against the headboard again and you’re the one who comes closer this time, leaning your head against his shoulder. It’s a gesture that’s as natural to you as breathing; his warmth feels as if it’s never gone away. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, holding you steady, you close your eyes and pretend the last year never happened.

Topper’s fingers slither beneath the short sleeves, rubbing circles into the skin on your shoulder. ‘I never said I wasn’t in love with you, Y/N. I just thought it was a different thing.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you murmur into his chest.

‘I do, because of Sarah. I treated her the same, until I realised I just liked how people saw me when I was with her. With you, it was a completely different thing. I preferred being alone with you, to being seen, but I overdid it. It’s – I regret it. Every day.’

‘You weren’t in love with me.’

‘I was,’ he says. ‘I am.’

You open your eyes, staring ahead of you. Your mind processes the words Topper’s just said – it can’t be real, right? You’ve spent the last year of your life believing he thought of you as his possession, as a trophy to be won, but somehow it doesn’t feel like that anymore.

His fingers are still rubbing circles on your skin, and it soothes you. It’s not possessive; he doesn’t make you look at him and tell him you heard what he said.

He doesn’t expect anything from you. Not anymore.

You empty your glass and put it away. Topper does the same, and you notice that you were right – the two of you have managed to finish that bottle of champagne.

When your hands reach for his, intertwining your fingers, it happens without a thought. It’s a mere instinct, based on years of confiding in the person you’re with, something that goes deeper than romantic love could. You’re best friends – you were, before you dated. You grew up together. You knew each other better than anyone else in the world.

And then, you ended up loving each other too much how to deal with that.

‘We were young,’ you say, quietly. Your thumb traces over his, and you feel how he doesn’t know how to react. ‘We were foolish. Dumb. We thought we had everything figured out.’

‘It fucked us up.’

You raise your head and shift backwards, so you could look at him. He’s looking at you with tears in his eyes, and you know there’s tears in yours, too. ‘We’re never going to have everything figured out.’

He just nods, waiting for you to continue.

You don’t even know what you’re going to say, but you still manage to find words. They come from a place you didn’t know existed – a place you thought you buried months ago.

‘We didn’t know how to love each other and we thought we did,’ you whisper. ‘We thought too much. Maybe if we don’t…’

‘I know myself,’ Topper says. His finger stop circling on your skin and instead hold you, safely. ‘I know the difference between the person I was when I fucked up and I know who I am now.’

‘Me, too.’

He smiles at you. You forgot how much you loved it when he’d smile at you, except this smile was sad – please, don’t make me plead.

Topper’s already confessed his feelings. You shouldn’t be thinking this way.

You lean into him again, letting your body react to his in all the ways that feel like home. ‘I couldn’t let myself be in love with you because I couldn’t figure out how you felt about me. I always felt like your possession.’

‘And I treated you like one. But that’s not me anymore.’

‘I know. I can tell.’

‘You can?’

‘Yeah.’ You smile in his chest, pulling his hand up to his abdomen, so you could see it. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, but you can’t ignore how right it feels. ‘I’m still in love with you, too, Top.’

You hear him breathe out; you feel his body relax underneath you.

‘Do you think we could not hurt each other again?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit, ‘but we’ll never know, if we don’t try.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I don’t know. I think I do.’

You shift away from Topper, fully separating from him for the first time since laying your head against his shoulder. You shudder at the lack of his warmth surrounding you, but you smile at his face – at the way he looks at you.

His lips are parted a little, and his cheeks are a little wet, and you remember the Topper you used to date would never allow himself to be vulnerable in front of anyone, not even you. Now, his eyes are glassy but full of excitement, of thrill, of all the same feelings that are in your chest, too.

Topper reaches for your cheek and you lean into his touch. It’s all too familiar, and all too new at once; you’re excited. It feels Right.

His thumb brushes the edge of your lips and he straightens his back, but he doesn’t move. He’s always been respectful – before, it was because it was expected of him. Now, it feels as if he understands it.

‘Let’s try not to break each other’s heart again,’ you say.

Topper nods, and smiles, but it’s cautious, as if he’s waiting for the moment to burst. ‘Are you sure?’

Instead of a response, you press your lips against his, and when he pulls you into his arms, against his chest, you feel at home again.

#outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #obx fic #obx imagine #topper thornton #topper thornton imagine #topper thornon x reader #my fic #my imagine #requested #yourlocalauthor

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