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joheunsaram · 4 years ago

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temper tantrums + cookies (myg)

Summary- Being a single dad is hard, especially when Yoongi’s daughter decides to throw a tantrum as he shops for groceries.

word count- 2.8k

pairing- dilf!Yoongi x Reader

rating- PG

genre- fluff, strangers2(maybe?)lovers, meetcute

warnings- YOONGI GROCERY SHOPPING, single fatherhood fears and insecurities

a.n- Omg my first fic on this new blog after the whole debacle. Thank you for everyone who followed me and bore with my clown self. I hope you enjoy this! Yes, I’m a simp for when Yoongi went grocery shopping in New Zealand. sigh.

A huge shoutout to @hobisbeautifulass for helping me plot this and @oftenderweapons for helping fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @hobisbeautifulass

Yoongi groaned as he strained to open his eyes. He could barely stifle a yawn as he leaned on the stroller slowly moving it through the aisle. His phone rested atop of the little tray attached to the handles, buzzing incessantly as messages from his company bombarded the screen. Could he not have some rest even on a Sunday?

He sighed as he stopped in front of the cereals, examining the boxes, trying to decide between his craving for Froot Loops and the healthier choice of Muselli. Knowing that he would be eating said cereal for dinner this whole week, he opted for Museli, missing the days he had enough time to cook a proper meal for himself.

“Daddy! Up!” Hyunji’s lisp pulled him out of his reminiscing as he watched his two year old daughter wriggling around in her seat, arms up to coax him into carrying her. Rubbing his eyes and trying to balance his grocery basket, Yoongi crouched to her level as she impatiently smacked her hands on the foam bar in front of her. He couldn’t help but smile at her - her tiny eyes almost hidden by her rosy chubby cheeks, hair a mess as she had managed to pull one of her pigtails out.

“We’ll be home soon, Ji,” he cooed at the chaotic love of his life, placing his basket on the floor to fix her shoe that had seemed to come undone for the eighth time this morning. However, his placades were lost on her as his daughter used her future swimmer lungs to scream, her shrill voice making him wince, but surprisingly working much better than the two iced coffees he had chugged earlier.

With a groan, Yoongi settled on the floor, trying to dodge her little feet that were kicking at him. He really couldn’t wait till she outgrew her temper tantrums. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, he pulled out a small pack of tissues, trying his best to get rid of the snot and tears that flowed down her face as she angrily fought him, her tiny fists colliding with his forearms.

“Ji, please. Calm down,” Yoongi sighed, trying his best to pacify his screaming daughter, while throwing apologetic glances at the shoppers passing by. “Okay, you want to be like that? Then let it out of your system. Go ahead.”

Resigning himself to his fate, Yoongi sat cross-legged in front of her stroller and rubbed his eyes. He knew Hyunji would calm down soon enough, and with the week he had he didn’t care if passerbys thought he was a terrible father for letting his daughter cry her eyes out in the breakfast aisle. In fact, he didn’t care that he himself was close to tears. He felt overwhelmed and bitter, the words of his mother ringing in his ears. “If only you had worked out your issues, she would be here, and you wouldn’t be alone!”

He laughed deliriously, the weeks of shitty sleep catching up to him as he pleaded with his daughter to calm down, bribing her with candy he never bought her to no avail. “Please baby, just half an hour and then we’ll be home,” Yoongi negotiated, his eyes glassy as Hyunji shrieked in response, causing him to startle and bang his shin against the wheel. He hissed in pain, grimacing with his head against the foam rod as she pulled at his dark hair. He loved his daughter, truly from the bottom of his heart, but he couldn’t wait till she started preschool next week and he could get some reprieve.

“Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi followed the voice to see you crouching next to him. Dressed in a printed dress with little dinosaurs all over it, and a pair of red glasses that matched your shoes, you didn’t seem like you worked at the store, but Yoongi couldn’t care less. He didn’t know if his exhaustion was blurring his mind, but you seemed like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t stop staring at you, from the slope of your nose, to your hair that fell into your eyes. Had Yoongi really been that deprived of adult human contact that just looking at you made his heart pound in his chest and heat rise to his cheeks? Wow, your lips were really pretty. They looked so soft, crinkling a little on the side when you spoke. Oh shit, you were speaking!

Yoongi was broken out of his thoughts by your voice. “What’s her name,” you asked, tentatively reaching out towards the angry toddler.

“Hyunji.”

Yoongi felt as if he was in a daze, he couldn’t stop staring at you as you reached out to lightly touch Hyunji, your fingers grabbing her little hand in something akin to a handshake. He watched in awe as Hyunji immediately stopped her screams to look at you curiously, her head tilted to the side as she sniffled. Yoongi would be upset that his daughter seemed to be more calm with a stranger than him if it weren’t for how the soft smile on your face made him lose his train of thought. It made your cheeks puff up a little and he felt his heart skip a beat at the small movement.

“Hey Hyunji! I’m Y/N. How are you today,” you said, as Hyunji finally responded with what Yoongi had spent the whole year teaching her, moving her hand away and looking wary. Yoongi felt pride surge through him knowing that his daughter wasn’t going to let a stranger act all buddy-buddy with her. However, Hyunji’s rejection made a small frown appear on your lips, and Yoongi mentally willed his daughter to be nice to you.

You weren’t deterred however, and with another smile, you reached into your bag draped across your torso to retrieve a small stuffed toy shaped like a chocolate cookie type character. Yoongi’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the strap of your bag as it rested between your chest, perfectly aligned with the slight cleavage afforded by the dress. He gulped, trying to shake the flurry of thoughts that ran through his mind like how his face would feel if it was the strap.

“No handshake? Okay. How about a toy,” you asked, grinning and shaking the character in front of the toddler, your smile getting wider as she responded immediately reaching for the toy. So much for stranger danger training. Your voice turned high pitched and cartoonish as you pretended to be the toy, Hyunji immediately lighting up and laughing, the switch an instant 180. “Hi Hyunji, I’m Shooky! Nice to meet you!”

“Shooky!” she exclaimed, waving the toy towards Yoongi to show it to him gleefully. Yoongi smiled, cooing at his daughter. Turning towards you, he found you smiling at him, the same soft smile that made him senseless earlier. He wanted to thank you for saving him, for calming down his whirlwind of a daughter, but his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Is that a cookie? She’s not allowed to have cookies.”

“It’s a toy…” You seemed confused, rightly so, your eyebrows scrunched together as you blinked slowly, trying to decipher his meaning. Yoongi should’ve clarified, apologized, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t double down.

“Shaped like a cookie. That’s a slippery slope.” He waved towards his daughter who seemed to be bashing the poor character against her leg, giggling. He realized his type of humour was not everyone’s cup of tea and so when he watched your lips down turn, he started to apologize only to be stopped by you smirking at him.

“So you’re saying a toy shaped like a cookie is a gateway drug to junk food,” you said, an eyebrow raised at him. Your wit made him cackle, an unattractive, loud scream of a laugh that immediately turned him red in embarrassment. God, he was such a loser! He cleared his throat conscious of the way you chuckled in amusement. He really needed to get out of the house more often.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired. Thank you, really. I had resigned to sitting here for a couple of hours.” He smiled up at you as you stood up and watched Hyunjin in endearment, who was now thoroughly engrossed in ‘Shooky’. Following your lead, Yoongi made to stand up, only to realize one of his feet had decided to fall asleep on him causing him to stumble back with a groan.

“Need a hand?” You raised a hand towards him, one that he took graciously, if only to feel how soft your hands were, and they were so soft. He groaned a little as he stood, taking extra care not to pull you to the ground with him, regardless of how much he wanted to. Jesus, Yoongi. Relax, dude.

“Thanks. I swear I’m not as old as I seem,” he deadpanned as you giggled a little at his bones cracking loudly.

“I didn’t think you were old.” You shrugged in response as he thought of ways to keep the conversation going. However, his mind was blank. You looked at him expectantly, and in true awkward fashion, Yoongi averted your gaze, instead looking at his daughter. His jaw dropped at the sight before him as he squinted at his offspring who seemed to be dozing happily in the stroller, clutching the cookie under her chin.

“She’s asleep… How did you do that?” He was dumbfounded. There was a reason Yoongi still seemed like he was sleep walking even two coffees down. Hyunjin had been having trouble falling asleep for weeks, waking him up at all hours of the night. The doctor said something about her delayed teething, but at this point Yoongi was convinced she just hated him for never letting her have sugar.

“No biggie. I work in childcare. I’ve been trained.” He looked at you in awe and you chuckled, patting him on the shoulder in an attempt to break him out of his daze. Could he fall in love at first sight? He was beginning to think, yes.

“Yes biggie! She never falls asleep,” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “What kind of witchcraft…” He looked from you to his daughter, still in disbelief as he muttered, earning a hearty laugh from you in response.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said, smiling as you closed your bag and fixed the strap, and he had to physically restrain his eyes from zeroing in on your chest again. He wasn’t going to lie, his eye balls felt strained at the effort.

“Yoongi. But seriously, thank you. I promise I’m not a bad father,” he provided, the shock now wearing off into anxiety as he thought about how much of a crap father he seemed to be so amazed at seeing his daughter fall asleep. You shook your head at him, a small sound of disapproval leaving your lips.

“I think you’re a great father, Yoongi. Don’t worry, toddlers are hard.” The praise made his heart stutter as blood rushed to his ears. The way you softly affirmed him made him feel seen. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that, and to be honest, he felt a little emotional.

“I… thank you. I’d like to say you’re wrong but yeah, especially alone,” he spoke quietly. He didn’t know why he specified he was single. Maybe to see if you were as interested in him as he was in you. He didn’t think it was possible. Who would want to be with a single father who couldn’t even handle his own child in a public space? He felt his insecurities gnaw at him as he descended further into his head. His sudden silence may have alarmed you because before he could say anything, you touched his shoulder gingerly, the feel of your fingers scorching him through the thick layers of his sweater.

“Well you’re doing great. Professional opinion.” You smiled and Yoongi wanted to cry. Why were you so nice? He missed nice. He hadn’t had nice in a long time. He wanted to say something, ask you for your number, but that seemed too forward so he settled for gratitude, as you picked up his basket and handed it to him.

“Thank you…”

“Cute,” you giggled quietly. “It was nice meeting you Yoongi.”

Much to his disappointment, you started walking away. He really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Hope always led to dismay.

“You too, Y/N. Really great.” He sighed, almost wistfully, resigned to the fact that he would probably never see you again as you waved and turned around.

“Say bye to Hyunji for me.”

“I will.”

----------

He looked at his daughter with pride as she stood in front of him, her dark hair in two slightly lopsided braids, that had taken Yoongi an hour to master through youtube tutorials. He couldn’t help but feel a little choked up as she excitedly pulled on his arm all but running towards her classroom, her frilly pink dress swishing with each step. He couldn’t believe she was old enough for school already - preschool, but still.

Yoongi tried to stop his brain from conjuring up pictures of her future; her graduating, her walking down the aisle. No, screw sleep, he didn’t need it. This was too fast. He held her hand tightly, reluctant to let her go as they reached the door.

What was he supposed to do now that she was going to be gone all day? He could almost feel himself tear up at the thought of how much he was going to miss her, and she was still holding her hand. Maybe he could ask the teacher if he could just sit and watch. Sure he had to be at his home office to start work in thirty minutes, but he could just say he suddenly fell ill.

However, all thoughts as well as his breath left him as his eyes fell on a familiar figure - the beautiful, kind woman from the grocery store. You.

This time around you were dressed in a dress that had little planets on it, looking a lot like Ms Frizzle with your hair in a top knot. Yoongi didn’t know whether to be ecstatic that universe had given him another opportunity to talk to you or be depressed because he knew he would never be with.

“Yoongi!” The joy and surprise in your voice made his face crinkle in a goofy smile that he had absolutely no control over, as he fiddled with his fingers, Hyunjin quickly abandoning him at the first sign of new friends. She definitely did not inherit her stellar social skills from him, as he stood there unable to form a response other than a shy utterance of your name.

“I was hoping to run into you again,” you said, beaming blindly and Yoongi blushed.

With his heartbeat accelerating, he realised that those eight words were probably the best he had ever heard.

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missmayrin · 3 years ago

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How We Met

Summary- MC finally makes it back to earth, but there's a problem... The prince's are here to..

Toa x OC

Told from Toa's POV

(With an mc named Avary)

********

My eyes fluttered open to a light pink bedroom. It wasn't huge but seemed big enough to fit at least 5 people. Glancing around the room I noticed that Avery and the other S ranks were also here.

"THIS IS MY ROOM-"

Avery suddenly exclaimed. We all stared at her like she was crazy. But that would mean we were on earth wouldn't it? We couldn't be on Earth, she didn't know how to use that part of her magic yet.

"Does that mean we're on Earth..?"

Lynt questioned with a yawn.

"Yeah..."

Avery said, she looked excited to be here but we were all thinking the exact same thing.

How are we supposed to get back?

"We're gonna be here awhile I'm guessing."

Avari stated, Avery nodded.

"That means the you all,"

she pointed to each of us,

"Need better clothes"

Fenn made an offended gasp and Angel rolled her eyes.

"I don't mean it like that, I mean you need clothes that look more modern so you fit in."

Me and Roy nodded, Avery went over to her bedside table and unplugged a small rectangle from a cord attatched to the wall.

"What's that?"

Roy questioned, pointing to the small object.

"Right, you guys don't have phones in Saligia."

We all stared at her with blank faces.

"It's a form of communication on earth, you can also play games on if, listen to music, or even read, etc"

I walked over and studied the 'phone'.

"But it's just a black rectangle?"

I looked at her questioningly and she pressed a button on the side of the thing.

It lit up, displaying the time, date, and weather with a picture of Robin (the cat) as a background.

"Wow..."

Fenn gazed at it with wonder.

"We'll have to get you all phones eventually, but first is clothes."

Avery pressed her thumb against the bottom of the screen and it opened to a different page with a bunch of boxes with names under them.

One was called 'Messages' and she clicked on it. She tapped an icon with the name 'Myra' beside it. She pressed a figure at the top and it immediately started ringing.

"Is it supposed to do that?"

I asked, Avery nodded.

Suddenly the face from the icon appeared on the screen, moving.

"OH MY GOODNESS AVERY WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN WE'VE BEEN SO WORRIE-"

A Male that looked similar to the woman appeared on the screen and interupted her.

"Whos that?"

"OMG AVERY DO YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND-"

Avari snorted,

"As if, no one would ever date HIM"

"At least I don't claim people belong to me just because we have the same eye colour!"

I shot back, Fenn burst out laughing and so did the two people on the phone.

"He's funny! I like him!"

The girl exclaimed, the boy continued laughing.

"Myra listen, could you and Lucas come over with some of his extra clothes? I'll explain everything when you get here but my friends need clothes."

"Sure thing Avery!"

********

After Avery hung up the phone it took about 20 minutes for them to get here.

Me and the others were in the living room watching some show Avery had put on the 'tv' and she was in the kitchen.

A short ringing went threw the apartment and Avery went over to the door. She opened it to reveal a woman about Averys height, and a very, very tall Male.

Definitely taller then me.

Myra, as Avery called her, had medium length brown hair with two blonde streaks at the front, she wore a light blue T-shirt, with a black, grey, and white striped shirt underneath. Her jeans were baggy and had rips through them and her shoes were pure white.

Lucas, the guy beside her, also had brown hair but his was shaggy and short, his pants were similar to his sisters but dark blue, he wore a black sweater with a blue, purple, and pink stripe on each sleave. His boots were short and stopped at his ankles and were pure black.

Both of them had hazel eyes and Myra had glasses.

Avery brought them over to the living room and they brought four giant bags in with them.

"Alright, let's get this fashion show started!"

*********

After three whole hours of going through outfits for each of us, we were finally done.

Guy wore a grey coldoroy jacket with a black turtle neck, black pants, and black shoes.

Roy wore a white turtleneck, black belt and beige pants. He had a pink sweater over top and white shoes

Lynt had a plain black shirt and pants with a brown belt. His shoes were dark green and he had a black beanie.

Fenn had black tank top that revealed his hips and sleaves that didn't attatch to the top. The sleaves had white stars on them. He had black shorts and a grey belt as well as a purple choker. His heals were and a black hood attatched to the back of his shirt.

I had a dark brown sweater with a baggie dark forest green T-shirt over top. They were tucked into baggie black ripped jeans and black shoes with a slight heal.

********

Myra and Avery were off talking in the corner. Roy went over to guy. And Fenn started bugging Lynt.

Sighing, I walked over to the corner and waited for Avery to decide what we'd do next.

My eyes fluttered close and a relaxed a little.

Someone placed their hand on my shoulder and I jumped so high, nearly hit my head on the roof.

Ok maybe that's was little exageratted but still!

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!"

Lucas apologized and sheepishly rubbed his hand on his neck.

I gulped and nodded, why is he so tall?

He's was easily at least 3inches taller then me, and had a quite muscular build.

Hes kinda hot..

Wait what-

We made eye contact for a second before I quickly look away.

"Avery told me that you like sweets"

Great, of course thats the first thing she tells him.

"I actually own a bakery, would you like to come over? I could show you a few things that you don't have in Saligia."

I glanced back at Lucas. He smiled sweetly and I felt my face heat up a bit.

"S-sure.."

I muttered, cursing myself for stuttering.

What the hell was this?

Why was I acting like this?

Lucas smiled and called Avery over.

"Is it alright if I bring Toa over to my bakery? Then you and Myra can help the others get phones and get them set up"

"Sure thing Lucas! Just don't let Toa near anything with caramel"

"Hey! Just because it's my favourite doesn't mean I'm going to devour it!"

Avery giggled and skipped back over to the others to tell them where me and Lucas we're going.

She looked lovely in her black jeans and baggy white T-shirt. But she didn't attract me in any way. None of the girls I'd met had.

Everyone told me I just needed to find the right person, my family told me that it doesn't matter and I just need to find a wife, but Im pretty sure that it's impossible for anyone to see me past a friend or just my prince status.

********

Lucas and I took the 'elevator' down to the main lobby. He said bye to the lady at the desk and brought me over to something called a 'car'.

We both got in and buckled up the seatbelts and he started the engine.

It was a 15 minute car ride and Lucas kept trying to engage conversation but I was to nervous to talk.

When we arrived I quickly surveyed the surroundings.

There were a few tables and chairs with umbrellas out front. Through the glass doors I could see a counter with a glass case filled with different foods. Beside it was a small sort of machine and then open counter.

When we entered I also spotted a couple fridges with drinks in them, there was a shelf for bread, a freezer had different kinds of cakes in it. Behind the counter there was some machines mixing coloured ice and there was a machine with a nozzle and beside it was a stack of cones.

Lucas brought me behind the counter and told me to pick anything I want.

I pointed to a long piece of what looked similar to bread with whipped cream inside and chocolate on top.

"That.."

I said quietly, And Lucas nodded and smiled.

"Long John it is then."

He took it out of the glass case and gave it to me. While I ate he went to the fridge and pulled out a tall black can with a weird looking M on it.

"Want one?"

He asked, I blinked at it and looked at him confused.

"Right, you don't have these."

I nodded

"It's called Monster, it's an energy drink, want some?"

"I-i guess I could try it.."

He smiled and walked over to me, pressing the tip of the can against my lips. I nervously put the Long John down on a napkin and took the drink from him.

I took a sip and was startled at the intense flavor and sharp pang on my tongue. Lucas smiled and laughed at my reaction, taking the can back and taking a sip.

"Like it? There's other flavors if you want"

I nodded,

"M-maybe something more..."

"Fruity?"

I nodded, embarrassed he already knew what kind of stuff I liked. He went over to the fridge again and grabbed another can. This one was orange and had a teal M instead of green.

"This one is pipeline punch, it's more fruity then the original"

He handed it to me with a smile. I took it from him and stared at the top. I could already feel the heat in my cheeks. Creator I barely know anything in this world.

"How do you open it.."

I hesitated. He took the can from me and showed me to lift up the thing on top until it opened.

I nodded and took it from him, opening it all the way. I took a sip and tried to force down a smile at the flavor. Lucas took another sip of his monster as I set mine down to finish the Long John.

"So Toa, tell me about yourself"

"Hm?"

"I don't know much about you other then that your a gorgeous prince from another dimension with a sweet tooth"

I blushed at the compliment and looked away from him.

"I also know your a messy eater"

"Huh?"

He laughed a little before using his thumb to swipe some whip cream off my face. Embarrassed, yet again, I looked at the floor as I wiped my hands on a napkin.

"You don't have to be embarrassed y'know, I'm only teasing"

I glanced at him and he smiled.

That stupid charming smile of his only made me even more flustered.

I just met him for crying out loud, how is he so calm about this.

Ive never been this nervous around anyone! Ever!

It must just be because I know almost nothing about this world. I'm so used to knowing everything that it's embarrassing that I don't.

I took a sip of the monster he gave me to calm my nerves. He brushed a lock of hair out of my face.

"I meant what I said by the way, you truly are the most beautiful person I've ever met.."

he hummed, not paying any mind to the bright shade of red which is now my face.

"Your not to bad yourself.."

I muttered, hoping he wouldn't hear me. But he did.

"Thank you Toa,"

he took my hand and kissed it as though he was the prince here and I was a princess,

"We should go get you a phone so I can get your number"

He winked before pulling me over to the door and opening it. He held it open for me and locked it behind himself. We walked over to his car and hopped in.

When he noticed me struggling to do up my seatbelt with one hand and took my drink from me. He put it in the cup holder I, somehow, hadn't realized was there.

I quickly did up my seatbelt and he started the car.

*********

About half an hour later we arrived at a giant building Lucas called 'The Mall'. We walked around for a bit, as I gawked at all the shops and just the sheer size of the place.

"It's nearly as big as my palace back home.."

I recalled, Lucas turned to me and smiled.

"Might wanna be careful who you share that information to, there's only one really well known royale family in this world"

I nodded, remembering how Avery told us about Queen Elizabeth II.

"Avery said that the queen is immortal"

Lucas burst out laughing,

"Well she is quite old, gotta be in her 90's at the very least."

Lucas guided me over to a store called 'Apple Store' with a bitten apple as its symbol. We went in and started looking through all the phones to find one I liked.

We ended up getting the IPhone 12 Pro Max. It was quite expensive so I tried to convince Lucas to let me pay but he refused. On the way back to the apartment I sulked and stared out the window.

"Are you really that mad I didn't let you pay?"

Lucas said with a soft laugh

"I don't like people buying me stuff, especially not expensive stuff like this."

I muttered, staring at the iPhone box in my lap.

"Well, better get used to it, because I'll be doing it alot from now on."

he said with a wink.

"Absolutely not!"

I exclaimed which earned anotheraugh from Lucas. I scowled at him and turned back to the window for the rest of the ride to Averys apartment.

********

This is just pt. 1 dw ✨

#fanfic #CoD #court of darkness #toa qelsum #guy avari #lynt akedia #roy invidia #fenn luxure #toa x OC #CoD mc

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regencyslxt · 4 years ago

Text

In His Defense

1555 words.

Imagine Bucky catching you defending him at work.

warning: like 1 swear word.

You had been in the office now for around 7 hours. You were an agent in training, however, so far despite the sparring and training you had done in the compound with Steve and the other Avengers you were yet to progress further than your desk. You wouldn’t have minded, you knew your computer skills were advanced, if it weren’t for a couple of agents on your floor who didn’t quite understand that sound travels. Meaning every word that slipped past their lips, you heard. And you ignored it too, that was until they started talking about the blue-eyed god Steve always brought to your training sessions.

Bucky Barnes. Ex Hydra assassin turned hero. Your work crush. In fact, he was your crush out of work too. He seemed to have wormed his way into your every thought, not that you were complaining. He had been nothing short of a sweetheart. Holding doors open when he sees you coming, telling you good morning when you get to work early. Let’s not even talk about his constant encouragement during 1 v 1’s. He could sweep you flat on your ass and he’d still tell you what a great job you’d done. God you were whipped. And the worst part is, you knew he didn’t think of you even remotely close to the way you thought of him. How could he? You weren’t an avenger; you weren’t even a field agent yet.

Anyways, you could handle your co-workers (not that you enjoyed working with them) gossiping about you.

“Look at her, it’s no wonder Fury hasn’t put her out on the field yet.”

“She’s always glued to that screen and if she not staring at her monitor, she’s staring at Agent Barnes.”

“It’s so pathetic.”

You were used to it. Ever since they found out about your little crush on Barnes they hadn’t shut up about it. It was to be expected, it was all they were good for. The last mission they went on together went bust, they gave away their position within a half-hour of them arriving and almost got the team they were with killed. Dumbasses.

Recently, however, instead of focussing on you they had directed their attention to the metal armed veteran that walked through the corridors.

“I can’t believe he’s here…like how many people did he kill, and we’re just expected to work happily alongside him, I don’t think so” one scoffed.

“I know, I guess being best friends with Captain America means everyone turns a blind eye.”

…

“Do you think he remembers? I hope he does.”

“He doesn’t deserve to forget.”

…

You were very well aware of what he had done in his past, who wasn’t? You were also aware, though, of how hard he was trying to make amends. How every day he was trying hard to figure himself out, to figure out who he was before the Winter Soldier. So, when these two agents couldn’t keep their mouths shut for five minutes whilst the avengers were meeting in the conference room, you found yourself biting your tongue.

“He should’ve stayed frozen, maybe then they could get a mission done without having to worry about a random Russian guy triggering him.”

“Imagine actually trying to convince everyone he’s a good person after what he did, what a joke.”

You turned to them, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

“Can you guys shut up? I mean is it so hard for you both to just sit down and do the job you’re being paid to do instead of chatting shit because the last time I checked that wasn’t on the job description…” you spoke out.

They both looked at you wide-eyed.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are?”

“It doesn’t matter but I know you know who I am because you’ve had nothing but my name in your mouth since I started.”

You stand from your chair and walk over to them. They step back a touch. The conference room doors open behind you as you go.

“What I do want to know, is what makes you think you have the right to stand here and criticise Agent Barnes for moving on with his life. For trying to fix everything he’s done. He feels bad enough as it is, he doesn’t need you two chiming in with your rude comments every time he walks past or makes an appearance. So, you can stand here and act all high and mighty but in reality you’re both crap at your jobs. I genuinely don’t know how you managed to be let in the field because as soon as anything happens around here you are both the first ones to cower away and tuck your tails between your legs,” You exclaim.

They stand there, mouths gaping trying to think of something to say but they fall short.

“Y/N…” a low voice speaks from behind you.

Your body tenses and you inhale a sharp breath. You close your eyes and look down at your feet, all the confidence you had before was now washed away. You had done it now, all the time you had spent forming a friendship with the man was now wasted. You really didn’t want to turn to face him but you knew you would have to at some point so you slowly spun on your heels to face his direction. His boots were a nice view, at least that’s what you told yourself knowing you couldn’t bring yourself to look elsewhere.

“Look at me please...” he whispers, stepping closer to you. He looked towards Steve and the others and silently pleading for them to leave.

“I think we have somewhere else to be don’t you think guys?” A round of murmured agreements could be made out.

“You two as well, I’m sure Fury wants a word with you both.” Steve motioned for the two agents to follow him, and they quickly made their way over and trailed behind him.

It was just you and him now. His hand made its way to your chin and he tilted your head up.

“There you are…” he chuckles. You can feel your cheeks burning as he stares at you.

“Come on doll, don’t get all shy on me now. You weren’t shy 2 minutes go.” He laughs at your embarrassed expression.

“That’s not funny! “you groan.

“I didn’t know you were all there…I would’ve kept my mouth shut if I had.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t have defended me?”

“NO, I just meant that- I mean- You- “You let out a huff of air.

“You don’t need me to defend you, you’re James Barnes. You can quite easily defend yourself…”

“That is true but it’s so much nicer having a doll like you do it for a change,” he smirks as he traces his fingers down the length of your arm, taking your hand in his.

“And I’m hoping since you spoke so highly of me before, that I might actually have a chance with you.” He quirked an eyebrow. You gaped at the man in front of you.

“A chance? With me? You want a chance with me?” To say you were shocked was an understatement. To be honest you weren’t sure if your ears were playing tricks on you or not.

“Y/N you can’t seriously be that oblivious can you?”

“Oblivious to what?” What on earth was happening?

“You seriously haven’t realised that you’re the only trainee I force myself to talk to. It’s not because I have to, but because your voice is the only thing I want to hear at 8 o’clock in the morning when I’m still half asleep. You are the only person that makes my mind go blank, that’s why even if I want to spend my entire day talking to you all I can bring myself to say is good morning. You fluster me Y/N Y/L/N, and it’s an issue because Sam won’t leave me alone about it.”

You laugh softly, still completely in shock at the fact the man you have had feelings for since you got the job here is currently confessing his feelings for you.

“So to answer your question yes, I am asking if I have a chance with you.” his hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you close, his eyes move to meet yours and your breath catches in your throat. You blink up at him, moving your own hands to the nape of his neck, subconsciously playing with his hair.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” you admit.

“There isn’t anything on this earth that could make me say no to you Bucky, so yes. I will give you a chance. And one after that, then one after that…” you continue until Bucky catches you in a kiss. You pull back in surprise, but quickly return the kiss, pulling him as close to you as possible.

You both separate a few moments later, Bucky tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you do. A yawn escapes your lips, and Bucky smiles adoringly at you.

“There’s a coffee shop nearby, we can go get something if you’d like...”

“I’d like that Buck.”

He connects his hand with yours, and you make your way towards the elevator.

“It’s a date.”

#imagine #x reader #regencyslxt #marvel imagine #marvel #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter solider x reader

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jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless.

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm.

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour.

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start.

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it.

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it.

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults.

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves.

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something.

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through.

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything.

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship.

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away.

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed.

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born.

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings.

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts.

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up.

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer.

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone.

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name.

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life.

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy.

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated.

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear.

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility.

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

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hpalways · 4 years ago

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A New World || Albedo

I decided to make it an AU, so it'll take place in the modern world, and not the Genshin world.

The request: Albedo x Gen Z! reader (made on Quotev)

RAIN pelted against the glass panes, rolling down like blobs of slime and making the world outside a blur. Down below was the city, filled off honking cars and traffic. It was always quite the ruckus living here, but you supposed you had gotten used to it. Planting your arms against the sill, you leaned your chin down and released a sigh. What was planned to be a day for you to go on a date with Albedo was now cancelled. It somehow decided to rain at a 20 percent chance. Life sure liked to ruin you.

The ashy blond haired male was sitting at your desk in the other corner of the room, completely focused on his current research. You could never get over how pretty he looked, hunched over doing the mundaneness of things. His hair tied up halfway into a neat braided ponytail, he was always ready for business. Teal eyes locked upon his large textbook, he was in his own world. He truly did not care that the date was cancelled, was he? Slightly pouting, you crossed your arms across your chest and slumped down to the floor.

At the sound of your actions, his eyes flitted over to you and he gave you a smile. You were beginning to feel childish under his stare. Maybe you should just be glad that he was here to spend time with you.

Slowly getting up from his seat, he lumbered across the room and sat down beside you. "It's raining," he murmured. "The soil is moist and it would be nice to collect samples of some of the plants I'm studying."

Your features contorted in slight annoyance at the mention of this. Research this, research that. That was all there was in his mind. Couldn't he please take a break? "That's it. You're not going to be researching for the rest of the time you're here," you snapped at him, a stern look on your face.

"What...?" he uttered, growing blank as if no one had ever said that to him. "But... it's raining."

"We can still have a date at home, can't we?" you pointed out. Pushing yourself from the floor, you stood up and held a hand towards him. Lips curling upward, you were getting excited for the ideas that had entered your mind. And when his cold hands clamped around yours, you knew that this date was not yet a failure. Nodding in agreement with you, he stood up and followed you to the couch.

The two of you sat down on the couch and you turned the TV on. "We're watching something?" he asked, seemingly confused as to why you would want to spend a date in front of the TV.

"Yep. Anime," you told him, using the remote to enter Netflix.

"Anime? I have not watched anime before."

"I figured as much. You're quite the uncultured swine, aren't you? I can't let my boyfriend stay like this," you said, dramatically sighing with your hand placed over your heart. He cocked an eyebrow up, shaking his head at your remark. "Anyway, yes. We're gonna watch One Piece. Any objections? No? Okay, perfect. We would have to break up if you said no."

He chuckled under his breath. "You're something, [Y/N]. You never fall short of fascination."

Knitting your brows together, you burst out laughing. He blinked at you, his cheeks growing slightly red. "Is that supposed to be a compliment? Don't describe me like one of your studies," you said, laying your head upon his shoulder. "I appreciate the sentiment though."

The brightly lit show began on the screen and the two of you fell silent, focused on the show. Nostalgia began to brim out from you, reminding you of the days when you had first watched the anime. It could never fail to pull your heartstrings and belonged in a special place within you. It was why you so dearly hoped that Albedo would like it.

An hour or so went by when you decided to take a pause. Giving a glance towards Albedo, you could see him scribbling something down on his notebook. Curious, you took a peek and saw that he was taking notes about the show. You dropped your jaw and had no clue what to say. He turned his head towards you and beat you to it instead. "I like it so far. The guy who ate that gum-gum fruit... I would study him some more later on."

Of course he wished to study Luffy, the main character of the show. But perhaps, this was also to appease the urge of wishing to study his actual research. To see his gaze flashing towards the window every so often to check if it was still raining was a no-brainer. Albedo was Albedo. Nothing could stop him from pursuing his ambitions... his truth. "Go do your research," you said, placing a hand over his.

"You've noticed, huh," he breathed out, lowering his head in shame. "This is unfair to you--"

"Not really," you said. "Let me go with you. Walking under an umbrella sounds romantic. I've always wanted to do that with you, Albedo."

He immediately grew flustered at your explanation, now truly red as a tomato. Averting his eyes from you for a bit, he had managed to calm himself down, before giving you a kiss at the top of your head. His lips brushed your hair, leaving a warm aftertaste that reached to your core. "If that is what you wish for, I will do my utmost best to satisfy you."

"You're so silly," you giggled, stretching and yawning. Getting up from the couch, you found the umbrella hanging on the jacket rack, waiting to be used. He took it from you and with that, you left the apartment and entered the thrumming rhythm of rain.

Bunching closely to him, you could feel his body heat waving off. The roof the umbrella pattered loudly and the gray pavement below were filled of puddles. Too much noise and water was seeping through your soles, wetting the socks inside. This was a lot less romantic than you anticipated. How unfortunate.

“Watch out!” he suddenly hollered, pulling you towards him. Face stuffed into his chest, you could feel your heart racing at the close proximity. He smelled of pine and cinnamon, a scent that reminded you of home. He was your home, after all. A splash! interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back into the present. Pulling away from him, you saw that a biker had zoomed straight through where you were originally standing. It was a mystery why someone would be biking in such weather, but what angered you more was how Albedo had taken a hit from it. His long trenchcoat was soaking wet... and so was his hair.

“You got wet for me...” you murmured.

He wiped a side of his face off and looked off into the distance. “Of course I did. A promise is a promise.”

Leaning in even closer to him, you gave him a soft kiss, your lips brushing against his warm ones. It wasn’t long or deep, but it was enough to erupt flutters in your abdomen. You tilted away to find him taken off guard for the millionth time today, his hues wide, his cheeks blazing, and a hand covering half of his face. Adorable was an understatement to describe him.

#genshin #genshin impact #albedo #albedo x y/n #albedo x reader #romance #fluff #oneshot #OneShots #love #x reader #reader insert #modern au #anime #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #zhongli #childe #kaeya

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trashmenofmarvel · 3 years ago

Text

Always Will Be - Ch 2

Pairing: Loki x TVA Agent!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ Only): Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Violence, Time Shenanigans, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Chapter Summary: You interview Laufeyson for his crimes against the Sacred Timeline.

AO3

The journey from the elevator was uneventful as you led the variant down the long hallway. Other employees of the TVA also walked the hall, alone or in pairs, and they paid attention to the two of you only to make sure you weren’t in their path.

You kept Laufeyson firmly in your periphery, more to keep him from wandering than a belief that he would attempt to escape. You didn’t doubt that would come at some point, but it was a little too early for him to play that hand.

“Where are we going?”

The casual candor of his voice didn’t fool you, not when the sharpness of his gaze was heating the side of your face.

“If it’s to my execution, I would rather know ahead of time,” he added with false friendliness. “It’s just polite.”

“We don’t kill people, Mister Laufeyson.”

“I can’t suffer a liar.”

You stopped before a heavy double door, two Minutemen standing guard on either side of it, and turned to the variant.

“I don’t lie. That’s your department.”

His eyes darkened and genuine anger flashed in their depths, but then it was gone so fast you would have questioned it was there in the first place if you hadn’t known better.

But you did.

Both Minutemen opened the doors, and you led the prisoner into Time Theater 25. It was the same beige color as the rest of the wing, and the only pieces of furniture were a small, round glass table, two metal weave chairs, and a control monitor.

You indicated the seat to the left and said, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“I would be more comfortable with this collar removed.”

Out of the corner of your eye he moved, quickly and without warning. You slipped the remote out of your sleeve and thumbed the pad. In the blink of an eye, he vanished and reappeared where he’d been two seconds previously, as if he hadn’t moved at all.

“You’ll find time works differently here at the TVA,” you informed him. “Please, sit.”

He said nothing, the animosity wafting off of him in waves. You ignored him, setting the files of paperwork down onto the table before taking your own chair. He took his own, albeit more cautiously, his eyes narrowed in dislike.

“Let the record show this is the entirety of Loki Laufeyson’s life recording,” you began. “Formerly of Jotunheim, formerly of Asgard—“

“—and formerly of Midgard.”

His smile was sharp.

“I did spend quite some time there. Both in my youth, and well, more recently.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Just wanted to be sure you’re thorough in your interview. That is what this is, isn’t it? My intake interview?”

You ignored the curious tilt of his head, as well as his question, and turned to the control monitor. It was rather small, round and orange, almost reminiscence of the gumball candies invented on Earth.

You flipped a switch and the room dimmed just as a rippling image of light appeared on the wall, powered by the holoprojector.

“We will be very thorough, Mister Laufeyson, and we shall start from the beginning. This is your home world. And that is you.”

The image focused on something small, blue, and wailing. The prisoner as a child, dying and abandoned.

You had seen the reel hundreds of times, had scoured most of this variant’s life. So while the film played, you watched him out of the corner of your eye. It was curious that Laufeyson didn’t flinch at the sight of his infant self being left to die. His face was carefully blank, unreadable, and his eyes barely moved.

But there was a shift when the King of Asgard entered the scene. When Odin lifted the lost babe into his arms, his nose slightly crinkled at the corners.

It was the only obvious tell he gave for quite a while. Laufeyson was closed off, appearing almost bored as his adolescence played out on the wall. The two royal brothers had rowdy, adventure-filled childhoods, though Laufeyson often acted as his brother’s second shadow. He only excelled when given magical lessons by his adoptive mother.

He gave an eye roll or two during Thor’s coronation, and he actually yawned during the fight on Jotunheim. But his boredom fell away when blue stretched across his skin for the first time, inflicted by the touch of a Jotun. And he replaced the carefully constructed mask over the confrontation with his adoptive father, and the truth was revealed that his very identity had been a fabrication.

When the scene was finally over and the King had fallen into Odinsleep, an inexperienced and uneducated person might have believed Laufeyson was unaffected. That all of the events of his childhood were little more than entertainment for his amusement.

But it wasn’t. Having to relive those moments would linger in his mind, and that was the point.

He smirked whenever the scene changed to him displaying power over Thor and his companions while holding the temporary throne. He seemed to enjoy his adoptive brother’s exile to Earth, and there was no shame given for these childish displays. That’s what they were, the product of a child throwing a tantrum.

His mask started to slip again, but not at the timestamp you expected. Laufeyson flinched at the point of violent contact between the Destroyer and Thor, knocking him back and nearly killing him in the process. Would have, if not for Thor’s returned power.

You wondered if Laufeyson had wanted to murder his brother intentionally, or if he had underestimated the Destroyer’s strength.

You picked up a notepad and scribbled down the question. Unfortunately, the chronological record could only display events as they happened, not the motivation or intention of the actors involved. It was a relevant question to ponder later.

“What are you doing?”

You lifted your head to find the variant staring at you. You clicked your pen closed and put it on the table, keeping the notepad firmly in your lap.

“You needn’t concern yourself. Please, pay attention to the screen.”

His gaze narrowed but said nothing. It was a look you were familiar with, though not one aimed at you. It meant Laufeyson would also ponder the question for later, though with an agenda bent toward scheming and manipulation.

You would need to be careful, but not as careful as he needed to be. After all, he was the Time Criminal.

The battle between Laufeyson and Odinson drew a few chuckles and smiles from the variant, as if he were recalling fond memories. His expression flattened into boredom when the King arrived to prevent Loki from falling, and his face remained blank as he let go, falling into the wormhole the unstable Bifrost had created.

It was a show, all for your benefit. Proof that he didn’t care about those he had harmed, that he was above all of his past decisions.

Because of his put-upon apathy, you let the record continue to run. You knew what came next. He did too.

Laufeyson watched his past-self float amongst the stares, frozen and immobilized in the vacuum of space. He didn’t perish, Jotuns and Asgardians were too tough for that, but it wasn’t pleasant. The subzero temperatures, the negative pressure, the absence of air and light, all contributed to his silent suffering.

It was a pleasure compared to what happened after.

A massive, dark ship appeared on the horizon, pulling him onboard. Laufeyson barely had time to defrost (even Jotuns had a freezing limit) before he was fixed with an electric collar and thrown into a cell.

Laufeyson was left in the dark for days with no food or water. He was brought out only to be strung up by his wrists, asked questions he refused to answer, and then he was electrocuted until he was barely conscious.

He was returned to his cell, given nothing for warmth or sustenance, and the process began again several days later.

The present-day Laufeyson didn’t blink. Didn’t seem to breathe as he watched. His eyes were glazed over, skin pale under the harsh lighting.

Another round of torture, but this one was different. It was inflicted not by electricity, but by a blue stone. Not the stone he would use to splinter the timeline. This stone was actually yellow, and it commanded minds rather than physical space, but Laufeyson didn’t know that at the time.

All he knew was agony, delivered by the hands of the owner of the ship. A warlord from Titan that would not stop until Laufeyson begged to be allowed to serve.

And beg he would. It had already happened, was recorded with perfect clarity, and it would happen within just a few short hours of being exposed to the Mind Stone.

Laufeyson made a small noise, quiet compared to the distant screaming of his former self.

“What was that?” you asked at normal.

“I said stop.”

When you craned your head in his direction, he refused to meet your eye.

“I don’t want to see this.”

You put your pen down on the table and fully faced him, folding your fingers in front of you.

“Do you verbally acknowledge that you wish to skip the contents of your time with Thanos the Mad Titan?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“A yes or no response is required.”

“Yes.”

He drew out the word in a growl.

“Do you verbally acknowledge that the Time Variance Authority is under no legal responsibility for memory gaps or incorrect memory recall for the time skipped during this interview process—“

“Yes.”

“Do you verbally acknowledge the contents that lie herein are accurate and complete—“

“Yes!”

He jerked his head toward you, his eyes reflective and bloodshot, teeth bared in a quiet snarl.

“It’s accurate, as you bloody well know, so unless you derive sick pleasure from the tortured screams of others, would you be so kind as to fucking skip it!”

His chest heaved, skin dotted with sweat, and he was half out of his seat with fingers clawing into the table hard enough for hairline cracks to splinter down the glass.

You had witnessed the variant become aggressive and hostile before, mostly against his adopted brother. Having the force of that fury directed at your direction was a much different experience.

You dropped your eyes and smoothed your tie, giving him a moment to collect himself. When you heard the shuffle of him retaking his chair, you lifted your head but kept your eyes on the monitor. With a few knobs turned and a switch flipped, the image on the wall, currently depicting Laufeyson kneeling before Thanos, supplicating him with promises of whatever he wished.

What Thanos wished was now being shown on the screen: the variant arriving on Earth to steal the Tesseract and prepare for Thanos’ full force to arrive.

Replaying the events of Earth Incident 327-A (colloquially known as the Battle of New York by Earth residents) garnered less of a response from the variant. He watched impassioned as his past-self led the Chitauri against the Avengers, and subsequently lost that battle.

“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the screen as it displayed all of the Avengers seemingly threatening the audience. “A few humans perished. It’s what they do. Nothing to get excited over.”

You ignored the comment. He wasn’t, after all, under scrutiny for the lives he’d taken while under Thanos’ control.

No. The reason for his current incarceration came next.

The holoprojector displayed Alexander Pierce stopping Thor Odinson and Tony Stark, demanding Laufeyson and the Tesseract be remanded to his custody. The argument was interrupted as Stark went into a mild cardiac dysrhythmia due to Scott Lang sabotaging his Arc Reactor.

Lang then kicked the case containing the Space Stone towards another variant of Stark.

The only occupant of the room to notice was Laufeyson. Bruce Banner (as his Hulk persona) created the chaos needed for the Tesseract to be freed from its case, tapping lightly against Laufeyson’s boot.

You fully turned to the variant just as his past-self picks up the Tesseract, disappearing into a spacial rift and vanishing off the screen.

“On May 4th, 2012 at 11:39AM local time, a nexus event occurred.”

The variant rolled his eyes. You continued.

“Loki Variant L1130—“

His eyes narrowed.

“—by using the Tesseract to escape the Avenger’s custody, you created an unsanctioned timeline, and therefore have been deemed a Time Criminal. This timeline has been course-corrected by the Time Variance Authority, and it is my duty as your handler to determine whether you are to be assigned to a Time Cell or pruned.”

“Pruned?” He wrinkled his nose. “I believe the term you’re looking for is killed. I arrived at the same time as another man, and he refused to cooperate. Those goons melted him without hesitation.”

You slightly leaned forward, speaking concisely so there would be no misunderstanding.

“That ‘man’ was a variant, as are you. A being whose existence should never have come to be, and therefore, your life is null. Forfeit. It is by our grace that you even draw breath, and it’s my job to ensure you continue breathing from behind the walls of a cell.”

You leaned back and shuffled your papers in front of you.

“As I said before, we don’t kill people, Mister Laufeyson. Variants are not people.”

Something flashed within his eyes. You only caught a glimpse of it before it was gone, and then his expression was back to one of hostility.

“I deny the charges.”

You blinked.

“You cannot deny them.”

“I just did.”

“It is an irrefutable fact that you stole the Tesseract—“

“My apologies, but,” Laufeyson interrupted, not sorry at all, “did we not watch the same act of the play? Because I distinctly remember seeing a very tiny man stealing the Tesseract first, handing it off to what appears to be a second Tony Stark, who then tried to make off with it before a certain green monster deprived him of his ill-gotten gains.”

Laufeyson spread his hands, giving a toothy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You may as well charge the Hulk with spoiling the timeline—it certainly wouldn’t have happened without his helpful input. In fact, bring in all the Avengers for crimes against the ‘Sacred Timeline.’ They’re just as guilty as I am, unless that goateed chap I saw happened to be Stark’s long lost twin brother.”

Laufeyson sat up straighter, staring you down.

“You speak of Time Criminals? It’s they you should be after.”

Then just as quickly, he crossed his arms and leveled you with an amused tilt of his head.

“Perhaps you could provide me with a taskforce and resources, and I could return and eliminate them for you. No? Nothing? Cat got your tongue again, darling?”

You rose to your feet, bracing the palms of your hands against the table as you looked him in the eye.

“You picked up the Space Stone and stole it, breaking the timeline. You did that. No one else. It was your actions that brought you here.”

It was not this Loki variant those words had been spoken to, but the smile was wiped from his face just as quickly. Deep down, he may have sensed an echo of those words. A phenomenon known as déjà vu to the common layman, when in reality it was something variants experienced from the Sacred Timeline they were no longer a part of.

Laufeyson also rose to his feet, leaning against the table to meet you in a staring match. He had height on you, and he took advantage of it to lean uncomfortably close.

“You speak of my actions as if you can possibly understand them. You think you know me by watching from a safe, comfortable distance?”

His eyes looked between yours, boring into them with an intensity that was unsettling. And when he spoke, his voice was low and deceptively soothing.

“I know what this place is. Your organization is shrouded in mystery, more of a legend than fact according to Asgardian historians. But Frigga, she should sense your constant manipulations, echoing across time. She forewarned me of what should happen if I come across your ilk. She thought you one of the greatest threats of the universe, but I? I see an amusing sideshow. The Time-Keepers have built quite the circus.”

He leaned in so close you could barely keep him in focus, his warm breath puffing across your face.

“And I see the clowns are playing their parts to perfection.”

You didn’t budge, refusing to cede ground and give him the satisfaction he sought.

“And in this metaphor of yours, where do you see yourself?”

His lips spread into a sharp grin, and he hovered closer.

“In the center of the ring, of course.”

For a moment, you thought he would close the rest of the distance. The sudden aversion of what he might do was so strong that you looked away first, backing off and sitting back down under the pretense of organizing your files.

“It sounds as if you cast yourself as the ringleader,” you commented, still shuffling papers. “The smartest of us all.”

“I am smart.”

“I know.”

He went silent as he slowly sat down, his expression open with surprise. The only one who had ever acknowledged his intelligence without it being an insult was his adoptive mother. Those who knew Laufeyson personally knew how intelligent he was and saw it as a threat to their ego.

You had no such concern, nor did you have an ego to protect. Laufeyson was smart, smarter than you by all accounts, but he wasn’t in control. You were. And that was something he still needed to learn, for his own sake.

“I believe we’ve discussed all that is required,” you said. “This interview is over.”

You stood from your chair and closed your folders, picking them up and tucking them into your arms.

Laufeyson mirrored your movement, rising to his feet, the movement quicker to catch up to you.

“Now, hang on just a minute,” he protested. “We’re not through here, not by a long shot. I demand to speak to someone with actual authority around here, because this is a mistake. I don’t belong here, and you don’t have the power to—”

Pulling out your remote, you rubbed your thumb across the dial, and an internal TVA portal appeared underneath Laufeyson’s feet. He disappeared into it with a cry before the beige portal vanished.

You adjusted your files, straightened your tie, and left the time theater. You had just enough time to grab a bite to eat before the next stage of Laufeyson’s intake procedure.

Next Chapter

#loki #loki x reader #loki series #loki x tva!reader #loki fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #loki wednesdays

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pi-cat000 · 3 years ago

Text

2021 WIPs: msa time travel idea part 44

The stuff I didn’t have time to finish in 2021.

MSA time travel idea part 44: hospital scene Unedited and in progress.

read full fic on a03 here

Vivi is still sitting at his side when he drifts back to awareness. She is reading something on her phone, brow creased into a frown, the occasional yawn breaking the silence of the room. Tired. She looks tired. Under Lewis’s oversized jacket she is wearing a different shirt and the dirt on her face is gone so it must have been more than a few hours since he was last awake. He stares at her in silence. The room is quiet enough that he can hear her finger tapping across the screen. As much as he would love to leave her alone and not cause any further worry his need to know more about his Uncle’s and Lewis’s conditions outweighs it.

He had fallen asleep towards the end of her recount so is a little hazy on the details and how everyone ended up.

He clears his throat and realises that he’s once again lying flat on his bed. Vivi, or maybe a nurse must have lowered the bed at some point. His head is heavy, like its been filled will cotton, and there is distant ache in his shoulder. The sound catches Vivi’s attention and a faint smile tugs as the corners of her mouth when their eyes meet.

“Can…” he clears his throat again, “do you think I’ll be able to see Uncle Lance …and Lewis?” He wants to confirm with his own eyes that they are both alive.

“I can’t see why not. They’re in different parts of the hospital so it’s a bit of a walk.” She looks at him over, critical. Pain spikes when he shifts to sit, and he wonders if she can read it in his expression. He mentally winces when Vivi’s smile falls away, settling into a more neutral worry line.

“…we should ask a nurse first,” she amends. Her hand extends to rest against his chest, causing him to still

“Just take it easy Arthur. Lance is still in intensive care, but only because he needs a ventilator. The nurse in his ward said if there are no further complications with his injuries then he should be moved out today. As for Lewis’s situation…” She exhales, “no change.”

Arthur doesn’t think-not even in his own timeline- that he had ever seen Vivi look so unhappy. Of course, in his timeline Vivi had complexly forgotten Lewis and it was hard to be sad about something you couldn’t remember.

Arthur lets himself relax back with a tried exhale. “Okay…” He doesn’t have the energy to make a fuss.

“It was supposed to be me who lost their arm…” he swallows, breathing out a long, worn-out sigh. “In the future…In my timeline, I lost my arm like Lewis.” It feels like a cruel joke explaining it but, if the information helps Vivi then it is worth a little discomfort. “It happened just after Lewis…ah… died…We were out in the middle of nowhere at the time, so I probably lost just as much if not more blood, but I still woke up… abet missing a few key memories.” Bright blue eyes meet his, unsure.

“Hopefully, it’ll be the same for Lewis?” He finishes lamely, averting his gaze to the blank television hanging on the wall opposite him.

#MSA #msa time travel idea #2021 wips #mystery skulls

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star-killer-md · 4 years ago

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Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that.

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for.

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.”

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff.

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair.

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.”

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.”

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing.

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same.

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob.

Definitely not.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things.

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed.

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway.

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you.

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early.

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily.

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges.

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font.

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied.

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence.

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient.

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms.

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.”

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway.

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before.

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall.

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him.

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in.

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey.

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook.

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side.

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—”

“She’ll be busy.”

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.”

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth.

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience.

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened.

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious.

And left you seething nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was.

The quiet before the storm and all that.

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.”

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted.

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape.

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.”

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers.

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle.

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket.

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time.

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped.

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies.

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren.

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh.

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—”

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.”

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers

biting into your jaw.

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them.

“Answer.”

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control.

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear.

“Swallow.”

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice.

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement.

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin.

But it was very clear to you what he really meant.

Remember who you belong to.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet.

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.”

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him.

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there.

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock.

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either.

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure.

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.”

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside.

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you.

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.”

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire.

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length.

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours.

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock.

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him.

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth.

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him.

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure.

Oh you were so royally fucked.

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you.

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore.

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.”

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length.

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it.

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was.

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose.

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door.

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence.

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day.

Maybe that didn’t matter either.

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #mob!kylo ren #lawyer!reader #dr. b writes #requests #adcu fanfic

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a blurb or something about Shawn coming to my door at 3 am from London or some far off place. Then when I am about to lecture him for scaring the shit out of me (texts and calls have me thinking he's DEAD) he just looks at me and says "I had to see you bubs." 🥺 I hate him right now. But I'm hormonal because i am on my period and very bloody.

A/N: Thanks for the request! I’m so so sorry it took me so long to write. There’s been a lot going on lately. I hope you like this! (Also it’s late so I’m sorry for mistakes)

Word count: 871

You checked your phone again, hoping that maybe a notification had popped up since the last time you checked it. The screen was blank though, only showing a picture of you and Shawn at the beach from the previous summer.

You’d been trying to contact him for hours but nothing was working. With every text unanswered and every call sent to voicemail, you were starting to get worried.

It started when you sent him a text asking how his day was around 10:30. You wanted to go to bed in a bit but you always made an effort to talk to him once a day, even if it was a simple ‘hope you had a good day.’

But half an hour went by and there was no response. It threw you off a bit, as he almost always responded quickly, but you let it go and went to get ready for bed. Hopefully he would respond by then.

So you changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth, and popped in a painkiller for the cramps that just wouldn’t seem to go away. You checked your phone one last time, assuming that there would be a text by now. You were met by a blank screen again.

Maybe it was a timezone thing. You weren’t exactly sure where he was at the moment so there was the possibility that he was sleeping or simply in the middle of a busy day. You shrugged off the strange feeling in your gut and went to bed, assuming that there would be some kind of response when you woke up.

---

You woke up only two hours later, the pain in your stomach too much to ignore. You tapped your phone to see what time it was and you couldn’t help but see that there was still nothing from Shawn.

You weren’t sure why, but something was tugging at your gut. It wasn’t like Shawn to ignore you like this. Even if it wasn’t intentional, he always sent you something to tell you he was alive. Always.

You found yourself on the couch after a trip to get a hot water bottle, staring at the clock in hopes that seeing the ungodly hour would make you want to sleep. You weren’t sure if it was the cramps or the anxiety over Shawn at this point that was keeping you up. You eventually had enough of your thoughts and turned on the TV to distract yourself.

---

It was nearing 3 a.m. and you were close to passing out. Five more minutes, you kept telling yourself. Just five more minutes and he’ll send a text. Part of you knew it wasn’t going to happen, but the other part was too hopeful to care. If anything, you were too worried to sleep.

What if he got lost? What if he died? There were too many possibilities for your mind to ignore.

You were interrupted from your thoughts by the jiggling of the doorknob to your apartment. You grabbed a pillow into your arms, hugging it close and scrunching your eyes shut. Of all nights someone chose to break in, it had to be tonight.

The sound of keys clanging together could be heard above the sound of the door opening, which was strange considering that no one had keys to your apartment . . . no one except Shawn.

You opened one eye to see a mop of brown curls standing in your doorway, a perplexed look on his face as he took in the sight of his tired girlfriend sitting on the couch at 3 in the morning.

“Shawn?” you asked in disbelief, almost positive that your mind was just playing tricks on you. “What the?”

“Hey.” He offered a shy smile, not sure how to react to your reaction.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you on tour?”

“Well good morning to you too.” He shuffled over to the couch, slowly sitting down on the opposite end. You seemed hesitant and it gave him an uneasy feeling.

“What are you doing here?” you repeated, hugging the pillow closer to your body. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another two months.

“I got some time off and I thought I’d come see my favorite girl.”

“Why didn’t you text me?” You felt a few tears coming to your eyes. Frustration and sadness from being ignored was really getting to you.

“I was on a plane. I just had to see you, bubs.”

“I was so worried, Shawn. I was half convinced you died.”

“Y/N, I am completely fine.” He leaned forwards to wipe a tear from your cheek. “I’m here now.”

You lunged forward and wrapped your arms tightly around him, burying your face into his neck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe. Glad to be home.” He held you close for another minute or so before yawning and noticing the time. “3:30? Jeez, honey, we need to get you to bed.”

Your breathing had slowed down and Shawn noticed that you were almost asleep in his arms. He smiled as he gathered you in his arms, picking you up with ease and taking you to bed.

He was happy to finally be home.

#Again so sorry it took me so long #hope I did it justice!#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes angst #boyfriend!!Shawn #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Y/N #Reader insert #Reader insert fic #Anna's blurbs #Anna writes

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claraweems · 3 years ago

Text

Post-Destroy Shakarian Mini-Fic

Her body was found in the rubble a little more than thirty-six hours after the Citadel event and it was rushed to the nearest triage tent with little more than a pulse. It wasn’t more than a couple hours before she was ushered to a more capable facility outside of London proper and then it was all hands on deck.

That was six weeks ago now; six long weeks of awaiting communications channels to open, for any news, for hope. A vid call was the best the Alliance could offer the crew of the Normandy at this point and they all knew who to give those precious few minutes of airtime to.

The doors to the commanding officer’s quarters locked and Garrus quickly took a seat in the small task chair at Shepard’s computer. A deep breath, eyes closed, and he connected the call. It was a nurse, or an aide of some sort, who confirmed his identity and carried the mobile vid device over to the hospital bed.

And there she was. Garrus’s heart raced, his mandibles clenched and his eyes searched over all he could see of Shepard. She looked pathetic in her blue hospital gown, cannula under her nose and who knows how many connections all over her body to any number of telemetry devices. Maybe even life support, ported directly into her cybernetics. Black circles under her eyes, hair thin and greasy from lack of proper bathing, but there she was.

And her eyes, her bright green eyes, they were… Blank. Just, blank.

Not lifeless, but soulless, that’s how he would describe the blank stare that Jane Shepard gave him. He saw no relief, no joy, nothing, when her eyes focussed on the screen put in front of her.

“Are you another doctor?” That alto which could be music to his auriculars was so shallow.

“I--” Garrus was interrupted by the nurse, no doubt due to the time lag. The human woman corrected her patient, ‘No, dear, this is a connection to the SSV Normandy. This is one of your shipmates.’

Shipmates, Garrus huffed in his mind.

“The Normandy?” Jane brought a hand to her lips, drawing a finger tip over them in thought. An IV or some other connection hung from the back of her hand, taped in place. She seemed in good care, if done a bit archaically. It was likely the best they could do, all things considered. “Captain Anderson’s new ship. You must be the turian envoy. Nihlus, was it?” Shepard smiled weakly. Diplomatic, even at her lowest.

His heart sank. A low hum escaped Garrus’ throat, inaudible over the call, but it washed over his body. Shock, sadness. It was hard to process what he had just heard, what Shepard-- Jane, his Jane-- had just said.

“No, no, I’m Garrus,” he spoke up after a pause, voice deflated. “Garrus Vakarian, I’m…” He watched Shepard’s eyes struggle to focus on the video. She was obviously tired, and didn’t seem particularly interested if for no reason other than fatigue. “I’m, yeah, just checking on you. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The Commander looked toward the nurse, every third or fourth word slurring, “I’ve got such a damn headache. Everyone keeps telling me my injuries happened on the Citadel, something heroic. I’ve never even been to the damn Citadel.” Her attention went back to Garrus, “Last thing I remember I was boarding a shuttle to rendezvous with Anderson, and now...” She weakly gestured at the room.

The turian nodded solemnly, eyes diverting from the screen to nothing in particular on Shepard’s desk. He listened to her slow speech, and it was painful. So painful. This was … this was hardly Shepard. A severe brain injury was the obvious culprit of this behavior and it absolutely was not a surprise considering events. To witness memory loss like this was shocking. It was one thing to expect it somewhere in the back of his mind, but it knocked the wind out of Garrus’s sales to see it first hand. Was it a ‘physical’ erasure caused by the injury? Was it post-traumatically induced?

Did he really want to know, or care? It was reality, plain and simple.

All that mattered right then was that he couldn’t find his words. The silence likely lasted little more than a handful of seconds, the hospital machines beeping away to fill the voice, but finally Shepard spoke up once more. “I guess I should ask… if I was injured this bad, how is everyone else? Where is the Captain?”

“Shepard…” Garrus instinctively responded, voice hushed. His tone was on the cusp of an incredulous laugh; this was … unbearable.

“That bad, huh?” The Commander tried to smirk, but yawned.

“Yeah,” he nodded in response, “It’s a long story and I don’t have much time on the vid call to really tell it. Shepard, I should... go. Give the crew an update on you.” He felt like a coward.

“Tell them not to kick too much ass without me. Obviously the Normandy’s maiden flight went off without a hitch if she’s got a crew waiting for me, uh…” She raised an eyebrow, as if searching for the word. Name, more like. “Soldier.”

“Garrus.”

“Garrus. Right.”

He ended the call and stood within the same motion. His name echoed back to him so colorlessly… it hurt. He shuddered as he paced across the room, the quarters he had commandeered after the crash-landing. No one protested, of course. They were family. They understood.

Now their matriarch was… Well, Garrus didn’t even know how to describe the short conversation, how to tell the crew that they were nothing more than acquaintances in her mind. Hell, she had no recollection of him… there was no way she was going to remember any of the non-Alliance crew.

Garrus sat on the edge, on Jane’s side, of the squat human bed. He had brought in a few ergonomic cushions for himself, but they were splayed out across the far side, spilling onto the floor. Three fingers rubbed across his face and over his cranial blades, eyes distant and glassy. He looked around the room, trying to compose himself; the squat couch and chairs, the emptied fish tank, the stack of cups and saucers left over from the past few days.

She was alive, she was safe, but…

His whole body shuddered once more, blue eyes closing and a hand covering his face. Subharmonics rumbled low, from head to toe, a collection of sounds at pitches and in tones that melded together in a mournful song. His emotions spilled over, out of his control, and he sobbed. It would have been absolutely useless, probably more harm than good, to tell her who she really was to him. Damnit. He wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted to remind her of … of everything. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

A jerking, choking sob; Garrus had never been wracked with such agonizing grief before. With his mother there was closure through longanimity. With his crew on Omega there was closure through revenge. With watching Palaven burn there was closure through Shepard.

This was a fate worse than her death.

#shakarian #post-destroy #fics i'll never write #okay maybe I might continue this one

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blushie14 · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepy Muffin [Skephalo]

Bad needs more sleep nuff said >:v

It is now eleven o’clock at night. Darryl stares at his computer screen for a while until he sighs a bit in frustration. He's got a lot of work done, except for a video that he's been planning to upload today.

Hours of editing was spent, but unfortunately Darryl has been unlucky lately. The editing software has been acting up and he would sometimes lose a little bit of progress. He was truly exhausted and it was getting harder to focus, but he wanted to get this video out asap.

Maybe he should take another coffee break.

He got up and walked out of his room. As he went into the kitchen, Zak was also there eating leftover take out and scrolling through twitter. "Oh hey! How's the video coming along?"

Darryl grabbed a mug while waiting for the coffee to brew. "Ah, well… it's coming along. Hopefully, I won't lose my progress again though."

Zak nodded but also had a look of slight concern. "Uhhh dude? Isn't that like your third cup of coffee?"

Darryl stayed silent holding the empty coffee mug, staring blankly at the wall.

"Darryl?... Darryl… Darryl!"

"H-Huh? Sorry what? I-I blanked out for a moment!" He poured the coffee in his mug and started to drink.

"Jesus Christ, how tired are you?!"

Darryl's mug was already almost empty as he put it down. "I'm really tired, but I'll go to sleep once I'm done. Promise." He yawned out.

Zak stared at him as he finished his coffee and walked back to his room. He has lived with Darryl for a while. He already knows that he pushes himself to work for hours on end until he gets it done.

He also knows all too well that a sleep deprived Darryl has unpredictable results. Zak ponders for a moment before he eventually decided to go into Darryl's room. It is probably a good idea to check up on him.

Zak opens the door and sees Darryl at his desk. He walked over and hugged Darryl from behind while resting his head on top of his head.

Darryl whined a little bit. "Geppyyy I'm still editing. What do you want?"

Zak chuckled. "Just wanna watch you edit Darry. Something wrong with that?"

"N-No I guess not.." Darryl blushed a bit before continuing to edit.

Zak observed him while silently taking note of a few things. Darryl's eyes could barely stay up and he was barely making any progress editing this video. A little time passed by before Zak asked a question. "Soooo how many cups of coffee did you drink?"

Darryl massaged his temples and yawned as he tried to think about his answer. "Uh… let's see…"

"Oh my god, it shouldn't take you this long to remember how many cups you drank."

"No! No, it's not that. I-It's just that.." Darryl nervously giggled, starting to feel loopy. "Are you talking about how much I had today or?"

"...What do you mean?" Zak had a bad feeling in his stomach.

"I've been awake for like.. I think it's been 38 hours?"

"Wh- … Ah-..." Zak stood up in shock while Darryl laughed a little more and hid his face.

"Oh no, I should've kept my mouth shut. Zak, just pretend you didn't hear that okay?"

"NO! Are you- you've been up more than 24 hours?! Are you crazy?!

"Nooo just leave me aloneeee don't worry about it!"

"Darryl I'm- I'm not leaving until you go to bed."

"I am gonna go to bed, just give me five more minutes to edit this clip.."

"No, you need to go to bed! You've been replaying that snippet for like ten years and still didn't change anything."

Zak refused to let him stay up any longer than he had to. He kept insisting that he should go to bed now while Darryl was still being too stubborn to give in. Eventually, Darryl closed the editing software after saving his progress.

"Okay fine, I'll go to bed now. Are you happy you muffin head?" Darryl pouted, making Zak giggle a bit.

"Yes, now go to your bed."

"I will! Just say goodnight and go!"

"Ah ah ah! I said I'm not leaving until you go to bed."

Darryl groaned "Seriously?… Oh my goodness, fine!" He walked over and sat on his bed. "Better?"

Zak smiled. "Yup! Now get some rest, okay?" Darryl nodded while Zak left his room. He closed the door and was about to walk away before he stopped himself.

He had a strong feeling in his stomach. He had a hunch that he needed to check if Darryl was actually going to bed. Lo and behold, the moment he opened the door, he saw him back in his chair staring at his monitor.

"Darryl, I swear to god." He facepalmed and laughed while the other let out a small scream before quickly standing up.

"Wait, Zak it's not what it looks like! Look, I'm going to bed for real." He walked over, sitting on his bed again. "Okay, you can leave now."

Zak rolled his eyes before sitting right next to him. "Nah, I think I'll stay right here." He smiled while Darryl started to protest.

"Wait you're not leaving? No, come on I promised I'd go to bed."

Zak crossed his arms. "I know, but you didn't promise you would go to sleep. So I'll just wait here until you fall asleep." He smirked, not falling for this again.

Darryl went quiet for a moment. "...Nooo why would you do that, you're being ridiculous."

Zak giggled, and the other being loopy couldn't help but giggle along. "You and I both know that the minute I walk out that door, you're just going to go back to your computer desk!"

"Nooooo! I wouldn't! Skeppy, leave my roooooom!"

"Maybe, and this is just a thought, just maybe I'll leave once you go to sleep."

"You go to sleep, you dunderhead!"

"No! You first!"

They bickered back and forth for a few more minutes until Zak had an idea to make up a "deal" for the both of them.

"Okay, okay look. How about this. Let's say if I fall asleep before you do, you can get back on your computer and do whatever you want for as long as you want. And I'll never bother you about sleeping ever again."

Darryl's eyes lit up for a bit. "Wait really? So I don't have to sleep right now? And I can finish editing my video."

"That is only if you can stay up longer than me." He chuckled. There was no way he's going to fall asleep before he does.

"Hmm… you sure you wanna do this?" Darryl was confident he could stay up a little longer. He's made it this long, there's no way he was gonna fall asleep now.

"I mean, either way there's no way I'd be able to stop you if I fell asleep before you do. So yeah."

"Okay then, deal!" Darryl laughed. "You made a huge mistake, you muffin. I've had a few cups of coffee and I'm going to stay up so that I can finally finish editing!"

Zak giggled, "Whatever you say Darry. Whatever you say."

Time went by as Darryl rambled on about random topics as a way to keep himself awake. Darryl was yawning every now and then while Zak stayed silent, wide awake.

"Dude, stop yawning. You're going to make me tired."

Darryl let out a devious laugh. "Hmmm maybe this is my plan all along Zak!"

Zak covered his mouth with his sleeves as he had a mini giggle fit.

More time went by and Darryl resorted to making up a story in song format.

"🎶 Ohhhh there once was a little ducky boy, who was planning something for his ducklings. He wanted to make his little ducklings happy cuz he loves each and every single one! Buuuut then his own ducky, who he loves very much, wanted to be a big meanie pants. He forced the little ducky to stop and nowww, the little ducky is sad! 🎶"

Zak couldn't help but laugh at how adorable that was. He decided to go along with the analogies.

"The ducky loves his little ducky too, which is why the ducky wants his one and only to take a break." He cupped Darryl's red face in his hands. "The ducklings will be patient and understand that the little ducky is tired."

Darryl let out a flustered whine. "But I promised them a new videoooo!" Zak only sighed in response.

Even MORE time goes by. Darryl was laying on Zak's shoulder, struggling to keep his eyes open. Zak was also a little tired, but he was definitely wide awake compared to Darryl.

"Hey… Zak? Have you- have you ever noticed that the word 'fridge' has the letter 'd' in it, yet the word refrigerator doesn't have a 'd' in it?"

At that moment, Zak wheezed and lost it at this point, covering his face as he laughed head off. Darryl was giggling as he continued to talk.

"Whahat? It doesn't mahake any sehehense!"

"BAHAHAD PLEHEAHEASE GO TO SLEHEEHEEP!"

"Nooooooo!"

It took a while, but Zak finally calmed down. He put one arm around Darryl and gently started playing with his hair, just because he felt like it.

Darryl had his eyes shut for a moment before jolting awake again. "Zak noo…. quit making me tired, you.. you muffin…"

Zak smiled and wrapped both his arms around him, snuggling against him now, still playing with his hair.

Darryl could feel himself drifting to sleep. "Gep..py..no.." Zak could barely hear him mutter his words. Despite his mumbling protests, Darryl started to hug Zak on instinct.

"You were saying Darryl?" Zak giggled as he heard him mumbling more words. Darryl's mumbling started to get slower and slower, until it eventually came to a stop.

"Are youuu finally asleep?" Zak heard nothing in response. He lightly gasped when he heard light snoring.

"Awww.." He giggled as he hugged him a little tighter. Zak didn't want to leave his side. "It took you long enough.." He slowly closes his eyes.

"Good night, I love you.."

[End]

#skephalo #skeppy #badboyhalo #fanfiction #my writing

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thebluestbluewords · 3 years ago

Text

SOMETIMES i bang out 900 words of Malvie nonsense instead of going to sleep at a reasonable hour. Have some unedited fluff I guess??

Mal stares at the bright screen for a minute longer, waiting and watching until the activity notification stalls, then drops entirely.

It’s good, probably, that she’s the only one up to watch her screen go blank. The only one watching the glossy black reflecting her own bright eyes back at her. It’s only right that she’s the one who has to feel this way. Wicked girls who like it when their family has to come to them in the middle of the night deserve to feel bad. She should be feeling bad, and sad, and upset that she’s happy about talking to her family like this. That she’s happy to be needed.

The phone creakes alarmingly. Fuck. If she breaks another one they’re not going to be able to afford to keep replacing them, and as much as she hates the thing sometimes, it’s too useful a tool to give up.

Fuck. A hot tear drips down onto the screen. Mal unclenches her hand from the phone, with significant effort. She wants to throw the stupid thing away and never look at it again. She’s never going to put it down, in case another text comes through and she’s needed again. She--

She needs Evie.

The words stick in her throat. Moving is easier, so Mal rolls over, and thumps her head against Evie’s calm, sleeping back. There. Evie doesn’t even have to wake up now, because Mal can just take comfort in her this way, which also makes her feel bad, even though it should make her feel good, to be so independent when it comes to regulating her emotions. She shouldn’t need to wake Evie up anymore, and--

“Eves,” Mal whispers, voice rough with the force of not transforming them into something bigger, better, more magical. She needs to get that under control too, and quick. Dragonfire in the dorms has never once ended well. “Evie. Wake up?”

Evie grumbles her way into rolling over, and slings an arm around Mal’s waist without opening her eyes.

“Wha?” she mumbles, shoving her face into the space near Mal’s neck. “Wha’d’y’need?”

It’s probably silly, how Mal is already feeling better, just from Evie being here. “Nothing.” Mal admits. “Just. Needed to know you’re here.”

“Always.” Evie says sleepily. “I’m here f’r you babe.”

Mal takes a deep breath, breathing in the sweet scent of Evie’s hair. Focus on the warm weight of your girlfriend who’s in bed with you, dumbass, and don’t think about the ones who aren’t here right now. Don’t cry on Evie’s shoulder when she’s already half asleep again and--

Hades take them all, she’s crying again.

“Babe, no, don’t cry,” Evie murmurs, patting sleepily at Mal’s face. “It’ll be okay, shh.”

“I know,” Mal spits out, tearfully. Gods, but she sounds like an idiot right now. “I don’t want to be doing this either, Eves.”

“Oh. Hm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno,” Evie says, and yawns. “Wanna get up for a bit? We could make out again if you want.”

Mal takes a deep breath, and seriously considers the offer for a moment. On one hand, makeouts are never bad, but on the other, it’s late and Evie will be tired in the morning if she does, and a tired Evie isn’t just grumpy, but also dangerous for everyone. They need to be on their best game if they want to survive. Auradon isn’t so bad as home, but they still can’t afford to make mistakes when they’re not all there to watch each other’s backs.

“No,” Mal admits, regretfully. “I think I want to patrol, but I also don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Well, I’m not getting up for you.” Evie says firmly. “I will stay up while you do one lap of the perimeter, and then I’m going back to sleep and you can patrol the dorm around my body, okay? Would that make you feel better, if you know I’m here for you to protect?”

Damnit, she’s getting too predictable with this soft Auradon living. “Maybe.” Mal says, and moves to give Evie a little kiss anyway. “Yeah. I can be back in ten if I skip the kitchen.”

Evie opens her mouth so sweetly for Mal, and tastes so sweet even though Mal is being a bad alpha and keeping her up when she wants to sleep. “Never skip the kitchen,” Evie says, and gives Mal another little kiss. “I expect the chocolate toll for this incursion on my beauty sleep, and I want it as soon as I get back from the bathroom, so you’d better get a move on, babe, if you wanna be back in time.”

“You only love me for my chocolate.” Mal says drily, rolling out of bed. “I see through your scheme here, princess. My mother warned me about pretty young things who would want to charm the living daylights out of me, and look where we are now.”

Evie stretches out across the vacant space. “It’s nighttime.” she points out. “So not exactly the living daylights anymore.”

“In that case--” Mal starts, laughing despite herself. Evie flings out an arm to smack her, but it’s easy enough to step backwards, and then it’s easy enough from there to take in a deeper breath, and grab her shoes from the rack that Evie keeps by their door and Mal always forgets to put them on, and then it’s just a little hop more to the door. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, promise.”

“Mm, I trust you.”

Oh.

“Love you too, princess,” Mal breathes out, and then slips through the door before she can say anything else sappy and stupid that’s going to make Evie tease her later. It’s enough, knowing that she’s said it once. That Evie already knows.

Love. What a thought.

#my fic #descendants fanfiction #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #malvie #this is within the larger context of c4 polyamory because I know what I'm ABOUT but also it's fine I havem't had the time to write in weeks #this is what I can do rn

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chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Dream- Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader (angst + fluff)

Summary: Reader has a bad dream during a thunderstorm and goes to Anakin for help

WC: 2.2k

Masterlist

Reader it in ao3

You had fallen asleep to the distant grumbling of the sky. Weather reports had all pointed to a storm during the night, and although you were not afraid of thunder, you were inclined to sleep through it so you could catch up on some much needed rest. Unfortunately, your subconscious had other plans.

You’re not sure when the tossing and turning started, but it must have been around the same time your head was filled with disturbing images, dark scenarios, dreams that made your pulse race and your body break out into a cold sweat. It was one of those dreams where you felt like you were drowning in a box with no way out, running from something when your legs refused to move, trying to save someone but they were just out of reach.

A deafening clap of thunder had you shooting upright in bed.

It took you a moment to realize where you were. The room was dark, the surroundings of your room illuminated in flickers as lightning flashed across the sky outside. Thick pellets of rain hammered against the windows, like millions of tiny pebbles attempting to break through the glass.

While normally it would have calmed you, now it heightened your unease. The whole world seemed to groan in rage outside, and you were still desperately trying to pull yourself out of the frightening dream you just had.

You were no stranger to nightmares-- you knew how to ground yourself after the particularly bad ones. But your fingers were too numb from gripping the bed sheets to feel anything else, your eyes unable to pick anything up but the eerie shadows in the corner of the room as irregular veins of lightning struck the ground, ears deafened by the rain and rumbling of the storm. Your head felt like it had been doused in lava, heart pounding in your chest. You were trapped, being swallowed up by darkness, falling back into that dream, back into that nightmare--

Another clap of thunder had the wall decorations shaking and you shooting to your feet, heading toward the door. You weren’t sure where you were planning on going, just that you had to get out of there before you suffocated for real. Peals of thunder followed you into the living area, unrelenting and loud enough to make your ears ring. The glass decorations on the windowsill rattled with tension, bright white flashes causing spots to form in your vision. You could barely hear yourself think, and a very real fear that the sky was actually opening up and falling down had you bolting for your door, heading across the hall of the Jedi temple to Anakin’s room.

You wandered through his living space on unsteady legs, falling into furniture and tripping over chairs in the dark. With each explosion of thunder, you sunk deeper into yourself, hugging your arms around your middle and bracing for impact. His door was cracked open an inch, and you nudged it open wider so that you could slip into the room.

You weren’t even sure he would be in here. He often worked late into the night, running around the temple halls, working on his starfighter, or deployed on a mission. If worse came to worse, you were just planning on sleeping in his sheets like you did when you missed him… except when you approached the bed, he was in it, and he was fast asleep.

You studied his face between flashes of light. He looked peaceful, face relaxed and breathing even. How he could sleep through a monstrosity of a storm like this, you would never know… especially since he usually wasn’t a very deep sleeper. He must have been beyond exhausted after his Jedi duties today if he wasn’t waking up, especially sensing your troubled presence nearby, and it only made you feel worse for disturbing his rest. But before you could work up the courage to leave, his eyebrows twitched, lips twisting into a frown before his eyes fluttered open.

Upon seeing you, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, blanket slipping down to reveal his bare chest. He squinted at you, still very much half asleep but reaching to take your hand in his anway.

“Wh’s wrong?”

You suddenly felt very childish. How were you supposed to complain of a nightmare to Anakin Skywalker, the literal king of terrifying prophetic dreams? What would he think of you if he knew you had come running to him because a simple thunderstorm had spooked you? What was he even supposed to do about it anyway?

Your hesitance worried him, so he reached out with the force to gage your emotions. Scared, uneasy, disturbed-- but not so much of the furious storm overhead, but of something else, something deeper. You had been shaken to the core, tormented by something that left your mind restless and body quivering in his touch. He had had enough experience to know exactly what was going on.

“Bad dream?”

You ducked your head to study your bare feet, ashamed. “The thunder doesn’t help.”

“C’mere,” he scoot across the bed, peeling back the covers for you to get in. You crawled into his bed clumsily, collapsing onto the pillows as he tucked them back up over you. The rain was still pounding mercilessly into the windows, the sky waging armageddon, but the pillows smelled like Anakin and he was right next to you, a formidable, calming presence despite the warzone outside.

He immediately gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and resting his cheek on top of your head. You breathed in his scent, basking in his warmth. All of the fear and worries from the storm outside seemed to melt away. All that was left was the incessant reminders of your disturbing dream, replaying in your mind as if on a tape-reel. Every time you tried to close your eyes, to relax fully into Anakin and let him just hold you in his strong arms, the images would come back. It had you pent up with frustration, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep like Anakin seemed to be doing again, but you just couldn’t. You were too afraid that you might slip back into that dark place, and have to relive what had plagued your mind before.

You felt Anakin’s head lift off yours. He studied you for a moment, eyebrows drawn down in concern.

“Alright, come with me. We’re going on an adventure.”

You watched Anakin unwrap himself around you and then get out of bed, waiting for you to do the same. Slowly, you pushed yourself back onto your feet, taking the hand he held out for you and letting him lead you into the kitchen. He motioned for you to sit at one of the chairs of the island, and then left you there to reach into the cupboard and retrieve a couple of mugs.

“Tea? Tea is your idea of an adventure?” You teased, spinning slightly on the spinny chair.

“When it’s 3am the roof is about to cave in because of a storm, yes. It’s an adventure.”

He flicked the oven on and a flame burst out of the stovetop. He placed the tea kettle on top, then lazily waved his hand in the air to call the teabags over to him. Then he leant his forearms against the counter, bowing his head and yawning as he waited for the water to heat up.

You felt terrible for keeping him awake.

“I can make the tea,” you offered, and he lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at you. “So you can go back to bed, I mean.”

A sudden boom of thunder clapped overhead, shaking the walls and causing you to flinch involuntarily. He looked at the ceiling as this happened, listening to the aching sky grumble an apology for the attack.

“And sleep through a storm like this? Now that’d be a shame.”

You knew he was only saying this for your sake, and you loved him for it. Still, it didn’t ease the guilt you felt as you watched him take the whistling kettle off the flame, pouring it into the mugs with one hand while rubbing his eye with the other.

“Don’t feel guilty, my love. I’m more than willing to stay up with you if you can’t sleep.”

“You must be exhausted though,” you accepted the mug he held out for you.

“I’m alright.”

You pouted. The temple shuddered with another round of explosive claps of thunder, lightning flickering through the blinds. Suddenly the low hum of the space heaters went silent, and a foreboding click sounded as everything shut down.

“Did the power just go out?” You eyed the blank screen of the microwave, where it used to show the time.

“Good timing,” he handed you honey for your tea. “Don’t worry, it should be back on by morning. The temple maintenance workers are more than prepared for stuff like this.”

“I’m not worried… just surprised. It’s a very violent storm, isn’t it?”

He nodded, thumbing the rim of his mug. His deep breaths, the slow blinks, the slurred words. He was about to fall asleep standing up, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do something about it.

“Let’s go to the couch,” you suggested, and pushed yourself off the spinny chair. He followed you into the living area, sitting next to you as you curled up into his side again, hugging the mug between your hands and letting the steam melt across your face. Instinctively, he put his arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked after a moment, staring out the rain-spattered window at the blurry city lights below. “Your dream I mean?”

“I… can’t really remember it anymore,” you answered truthfully. The longer you stayed awake, the more the dream slipped from your memory. A blessing, only tainted by the feelings it left in its wake. The fear and dread remained, though the dream in itself was gone.

“It bothers you still.”

“Only a little,” you took a sip of your tea. “But this is nice.”

Lightning shot across the sky, reaching its hands out like it was searching for something across the horizon. More tendrils branched out in every direction, crawling across the skyline and illuminating the room in a pale blue light. You counted the seconds until the thunder hit: 1...2...3…

“Storm’s right overhead,” Anakin noted, thumb stroking the skin of your arm.

“It better not kill us.”

“I won’t let it kill you,” he chuckled deeply.

“You won’t let it?” You pulled back to look at him. “I hate to break it to you, but I think Mother Nature does what she wants.”

“You forget, I control an important part of nature.”

Your mug lifted from your fingers suddenly, floating into his hand instead. He took a sip of your tea, winking lazily.

“Hey,” you laughed, reaching for your mug as he held it over his head with a teasing smile. You were too tired to fight him for it though, so you rolled your eyes with mock exasperation, holding his chin steady so you could kiss him instead.

His lips were pliant beneath yours, and tasted sweet like the honey. You licked the taste off of them, and his arm lowered without him realizing it so he could focus on the feel of you. You took the opportunity to grab your mug back, pulling away before he could realize what you’d done.

“Dirty tactic,” he mused. “I’d even go as far as to say… cheater.”

“Yeah, yeah, like you don’t use your fancy Jedi tricks to peek at my deck every time we play cards.”

“You have no proof.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you finish your tea, setting it down on the coffee table before you and nuzzling your head back into Anakin’s neck. “So it’s only fair that you cut me some slack.”

“Just this once,” he appeased, tilting his head so that it was resting on yours again.

You felt much better now than you had before. As the storm came to a head, Anakin held you through it. It was impossible to be frightened of the loud noises and sinister peals of lightning when he was holding you. The sluggish funk that the nightmare had left you with also faded away, and all that was left was the scent of Anakin, the feel of his warm skin beneath your cheek, and the taste of him on your lips. Before long, you had nodded off on his shoulder.

He stayed awake until he was certain you were sleep, watching the raindrops race each other down the window pane. Shortly after the space heaters powered back to life, he turned his head to see your eyes closed, lips slightly parted, fast asleep against him. Carefully, he shifted you into his arms so that he could carry you back to bed without you waking.

Although he was beyond the point of exhaustion, he slept better than ever that night knowing you were beside him, safe in his embrace and contentedly resting now that your fears had been washed away. A few hours of missed sleep was worth it if it meant making sure you would be okay, and he knew that you would do the same for him without a doubt.

#did i really just write shirtless ani and NOT mention his abs???#shit i guess there is something wrong with me #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fic #star wars fic #anakin fluff #anakin angst #anakin skywalker

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heartofsnark · 4 years ago

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Four): Leave My Head Among The Stars

Notes: Okayyyyyy, so here’s the thing, I started to write this chapter and what I planned to have in it and then I suddenly had 66 pages of content. So, I had to split it up. So I have three chapters, including this one, written up. So, these next couple updates for this will be fairly quick. I’m trying to get to johnny quick, but act 1 is a doozy, I hope you’re still enjoying the content though.

Word Count: 9268

Chapter Warnings: Mild violence, weird sexual tension,

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

Fingernails scratch at V’s back, the merc whining as she’s gently stirred awake. Her eyes are still blurry with sleep and the sun is just beginning to filters in through her window when she looks up at the older woman. Sunlight illuminates Cecelia, makes her freckles stand out on her tanned skin and turns her eyes molten gold. Her lips move and V has to refocus, not just stare at the far too out of her league woman, and focus on reading her lips.

“….work….”

That’s all she can read across Cecelia’s lips and she grumbles, rolling off of the older woman. V wraps her blankets tightly around herself, forming a cocoon as her fuckbuddy leaves the bed. She watches for a minute, before it hits her; she makes a vague disgruntled noises as she grabs the hem of Cecelia’s shirt, stopping her from leaving. The older woman looks at her for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights as she looks at the sleepy curled up merc tugging at her clothes.

“Pancakes…” Is all V says, assuming her voice sounds as heavy with sleep as it feels, she grabs some eurodollars off her bedside table. The merc pushes the money into Cecelia’s hands, paying her for the food she brought in last night. Cecelia’s face drops, though V’s sleep laden brain can’t begin to understand why.

“Well...kinda...feel...prostitute,” V’s unfocused eyes struggles to read Cecelia’s lips, but she can fill in the blanks. That this exchange of money, even if meant for pancakes, has made Cecelia feel like a prostitute.

“Don’t worry,” V yawns, signing a little sloppy from exhaustion, “I don’t pay for sex, so you’re fine.”

Then V’s passed back out against her pillow.

V wakes up, an hour or so later, rolling out of her sheets, Cecelia already long gone. She rubs at her sleep laden eyes and shoots a quick text to Jackie, letting him know she’s ready to meet up whenever he is, so she can see his big news. He texts back almost immediately, proclaiming he’s on his way. V decides to use her time to quickly clean up the mess of last night; cleaning her toy and changing out her sheets. She’ll have to do laundry soon, but that’s an issue for later tonight… or later this week...or month. V will figure it out, at some point. She grabs a quick shower and changes her clothes.

Despite the heat, she opts for a cropped hoodie, jeans, and her old slightly ratty backpack. Her mask, air hypos, max docs, bounce backs and extra weapons packed inside along with ammo. Night City necessities. It may seem like a bit much but, her mask can’t fit in her pocket and Jackie likes to spring gigs on her. She slides her optic contact case in her pocket, alongside her phone, turns on her translator choker, then puts in her hearing aids. Her ears twinge, still a little raw, she was more focused on sleeping than doctoring them last night.

She tucks her favorite knife into a thigh holster and her preferred gun in a hidden holster in her waistband. Armed to the teeth, V ties her boots and heads out the door, letting it lock behind her, nose twinging again at the smell as soon as steps out. V starts out through the big walkway that goes into balconied steps, though the view is just more apartments, the elevator that leads to the front is a floor down across from one of the clusters of shops that sit on that floor. Every couple of floors there's a services level. In this one megabuilding alone there are probably twenty restaurants and forty gun shops. Hell, her vending machine in her apartment has the option to order a joytoy or sex droid from the brothel eight floors up.

Her holophone buzzes, bleeps, and lights up inside of her pocket as she walks past the cluster of vending machines. She checks, expecting a text from Jackie, that he’s already waiting on her. And instead groans.

REMINDER, TAKE YOUR MEDICATION!!!!!!! :3

Her phone notification screams at her and she groans under her breath. She stomps back up the stairs and back into her apartment, grabbing a flat Nicola Sakura and using it to swallow down her immunosuppressants, then she leaves her apartment, again. V’s mentally cursing her own forgetfulness, she can remember to keep twenty different weapons on her, but her medication manages to slip her mind routinely.

The chatter of strangers fills the services floor as she walks through, past the initial pocket of vending machines, then restaurant stands, and then as if to mock her when she eats that garbage; a gym section of the floor. All of which is followed by a gun shop. It's all a weird medley of sounds and smells that her sensitive self struggles with.

Theres the clinging of sodas from the vending machines, the searing sound of cooking dishes, the talk of strangers, the grunts of people working out, the thwacking of people hitting punching bags, the clanging of weights, advertisements screaming at her to buy something, the muffled sound of gunfire from the Second Amendement’s shooting range, and robotic whirrs of Coach Fred’s punching bag robot.

And the smells, dear lord the smells. Gunpowder, sweat, and cooking food; all mingled with people’s own body odor or perfumes with just a sprinkle of hot trash.

She considers turning her hearing aids off and grabbing her chapstick, as she passes by Coach Fred’s section of the floor where he offers boxing training, a raised platform to box on. He punches and trains against his training droid.

“Hey, V!” The older man calls out, before she can mute the world, padded robot stopping next to him, “How you like my new Punchin' Bag? Just gave me a nextgen ass-whoopin', he did. Be curious to see how he handles the likes of V... Heh. So how 'bout it?”

“Pff,” V can’t help but scoff just a little, Coach Fred is easy a foot or more taller than her and more muscular, but he wants to see her take the damn thing on, “sure.”

“Light on your feet. Keep that head movin'!” The boxer tells her as she steps up into the crude boxing area and he steps out.

V cracks her knuckles as the automated training bot stands in front of her, the small merc raises her fists, all the only sign the droid needs to initiate combat mode. It swings a right hook at her and she dodges. A left hook next and she blocks, countering with her own punch, knuckles connected with it’s padded head. That first strike knocks it off balance enough to land two more, the bot stopping in defeat. Easy enough, maybe Coach Fred put it in easy mode?

“You got one helluva punch there, champ. Ever thought of monetizing it? I can arrange a fight or two. Whaddaya say?” The former coach asks her, sitting down on a bench.

She’s not so sure, most of her combat skills being focused on killing opponents and getting the drop stealthily. She can hold her own, but fighting a gangoon on the street where only one of them is going to walk away from it is different from a controlled fight with rules. Sparring with Jackie and the odd training session with Fred or Vik her only experience in boxing. But… money is money. She can give it a shot, go low stakes on the first one, she does well keep going. If she blunders it, no big loss.

“You arrange fights still?”

“Mmhmm and I think you got a knack for this, You've got sharp instinct, good edge. You can go far, especially if you get chipped. These fights… let's just say they aren't legal. Buuut… very lucrative.”

“And you get a cut, I assume.”

“I get a small percentage of the total winnings, you know, as your agent. You get the rest.”

“Of course, I’ll consider it, zip me the details of the first fight.”

“Like I said, good instinct.”

V rolls her eyes and continues through the service floor with a wave bye, passing by a Fuyutsuki and someone spray painting a cement wall. The bright neon red of the Second Amendment gun shop sign bathes the end of the services floor, just across from the elevator.

“V!” Wilson calls out and by god, why’d she turn on her hearing aids, “got some sweet new .45’s in, come take a look!”

“Can’t right now, in a rush, when I get back, promise!” She signs quickly, uses her elbow to jam the call elevator button.

It thankfully reaches her floor fairly quickly, allowing her to wave a quick bye to the older man, and stepping inside. There’s a slight relief as the doors close and she hits the floor she needs, the elevator carriage rocking into movement. While the screens still play advertisements, it's one sound, instead of a hundred. She uses some more lip balm, vanilla flavor on her lips and the sweet smell hitting her nose.

She adjusts the volume slightly on her hearing aids, lowering it just a bit more as the elevator comes to a stop. While not technically a services floor, the front entrance of the building is nearly as bad. There are at least ten or more restaurant stands in that area, V walking past everyone trying to sell her a burger or hot dog.

The sunlight hits her as she walks down the stairs that lead to her building and she spots Jackie, well his back. He’s sitting at a food stand that’s a very short walk from the building, because there certainly is not enough inside of the building. He’s got his face buried in a takeout box of synth-beef chow mein, not even noticing as V creeps up on him.

V’s nearly at his back and the street vendor raises an eyebrow, no doubt wondering if his customer is about to be robbed. Then she’s jumping to throw her arms around Jackie’s neck in a mock headlock, more so just hanging off the giant’s back.

“And its V with the headlock~” She jokes, voice low in his ear and he laughs. His chuckle making his chest vibrate and she can feel it.

“Someone’s feeling better,” he comments as she detangles from his back, “you, get your beauty sleep or…?”

He waggles his eyebrows at her as she climbs up onto the seat next to him, swinging a foot out to kick him. Her boot just bouncing back off his shin.

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jackie, you know that,” she signs and rolls her eyes, red flushing up her cheeks at the thought of giving details.

“Yeah, I just like seeing your face go that shade of pink, hehe.”

“I swear to god if your big news was just an excuse to give me shit.”

“Nah nah, got something to show you, first, chica.” Jackie grins ear to ear, like the cat that ate the canary. He tosses his trash into a bin and smacks her shoulder to follow him, bouncing like a kid on their way to the christmas tree.

“I’m already terrified,” she taunts as she hops down and follows him to a curb, a motorcycle parked there.

It's an Arch Nazare, slightly older model but not ancient by any stretch. From the sideview, the detailing is slick. Black with red branding and detailing, the exhaust and some pipework a bright gold color. The gold’s a little gaudy for her liking, But, she sideyes Jackie. His favorite red and black jacket, heavy gold jewelry bouncing on his chest. Gonk probably sunk more into the paint job then he did the actual bike. She can’t help but chuckle and when he proudly leans against the bike, his grin ear to ear, megawatt and shining brighter than the sun. When she peeks at the top detailing she can see a Calavara style skull decal on the dash. It screams Jackie.

“What’cha think, jaina?”

“It's beautiful and very you; how’d you manage to score a ride like that? Custom paint job too, I presume. Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“Muy peque, took out a loan , but ah, totally worth it. Got her on the cheap actually, Dorsett job dividend.”

“You already blew your cash from that job?”

“Someday you’re gonna have to actually spend your money and live a little, V, you know that?”

“Nothing wrong with saving back for something nicer down the road,” she retorts, thinking of her little jar of cash in the storage space beneath her bed. She’s been trying to take so much from every payday aside to save.

“And uh, what are you saving for again?”

“....a Kusanagi...or a Projectile Launcher...or a bigger apartment...or…”

“You’re stockpiling cash and you don’t even know what for, chica,” he laughs at her indecision, her ultimate splurge item she’s saving for changes weekly, “look, check this out.”

He straddles the motorcycle and turns the ignition, the Arch roaring to life and it’s… loud and rumbly, not even remotely subtle. She can picture it now, him showing up to a gig on it and getting blasted to pieces immediately.

“No, V, don’t,” he cuts the engine, pointing a finger at her from where he sits on the motorcycle.

“What?”

“Don’t make that face at me!”

“What face?”

“The face you make when you’re about to piss all over my parade.”

“I do not piss on your parade.”

“You do and you’re about to do it right now, I know you V, you got a billion thoughts rattling around that skull of yours and not one of them is good.”

“All I was going to say…”

“Mmhmm.”

“Is, you should maybe consider swapping out the tailpipe.”

“It’s got a rumble, the chicas love that.”

“It’s got a rumble that tells every gangoon within a twenty mile radius that you’re coming their way.”

“Fair enough.”

“And… you should probably tinker with the fuel injection too, upload a new map, and slap on some thermal tape until you fix the exhaust.”

“V!”

She folds her hands on his shoulder, then balances her chin on top of them, giving him puppy dog eyes. He’s huffy, not meeting her gaze. V knows damn well her tendency to be a buzzkill, especially in comparison to Jackie. Its a bad habit that always leaves her feeling guilty, but also an impulse, because...if she isn’t prepared for worst case scenarios...that’s death.

“But I am really happy for you, it's a gorgeous ride and you look like a total badass on it.” She whispers, close enough that only Jackie can hear, hoping the honey sweet words will make him feel better. And she can see the smile pulling at his lips, that soon becomes that big grin she loves as he finally meets her gaze.

“Okay, okay, your buzzkilling is forgiven. You can stop blowing wind up my ass.”

“Hehe,” her face drops with realization, “Jackie, where’s my car?”

“Oh, uh, I dropped it off to my guy, Miguel. Fixed it up like new, you can call it whenever you want. But I figured, you’d rather grab a ride on this baby.”

“Ooooh, hell yeah.”

“C’mon, was planning on stopping by Misty’s, lets go.”

That’s all the provocation V needs, hopping onto the back of the Arch. The backseat space is limited, Jackie taking up the vast majority of the seat. But she slips behind him easily, wrapping her arms around his stomach. Her hands can’t quite fully meet around him, having to just tangle her fingers in the front of his jacket. Then the engine comes roaring to life, Jackie taking off from the curb.

She can’t help but laugh, Jackie not holding back as they go speeding down the city roads. He blasts the radio, blaring a song she doesn't know from the bike's speaker, mingling with Jackie's laughter and the wind whipping around them.

But it's not overwhelming, not too much, never could be with Jackie.

They weave through traffic, riding on the middle lane and not letting anything stop them as they pick up more and more speed. She’s pressed tight against his back, leeching off his warmth as the wind manages to send a little chill up her spine. Her cheeks ache from grinning as they cruise over a hill in the highway, catching air for a moment, her entire body bouncing when the bike hits the road again. If not for her tight hold on his jacket, she might have gone flying which only makes her laugh harder.

He doesn't slow down until they start to reach the stretch of city where Misty's store and Vik's clinic are, Jackie slowly pulling up onto a curb to park. Their bodies shifting forward at the stop, V’s chest pressing even closer into Jackie’s back for a moment.

"Joyrides over, jaina," he says, playfully tapping her hand where it sits on his stomach.

She lets go, allowing her friend to pull away and get off the motorcycle. His body language starts to shift, as he stands in front of her, looking off somewhere else. He takes a deep enough breath that she can see his chest move with it, then he crosses his arms and kicks at the pavement.

"She's a smooth ride," V signs to him, swinging her legs over the side of the bike so she can face him directly. Is he second guessing his decision? She didn't mean to make him feel bad about the choice.

"Uh," Jackie scratches at the back of his neck, "remember what I said, about having big news?"

"Is..the Arch not the big news?" She asks, pulling a leg up onto the motorcycle and resting an elbow on her knee.

"Ah nah, I'm proud of it, but this...chica, is so much bigger than that.”

"Okay...you wanna tell me or…?"

"Got a sweet ass j-o-b lined up for us; you, me, and Bug."

"I get the feeling this is different from our usual gig.”

“I mean, maybe it's not as big as that,” he puts his hands on his hips and shrugs, trying to play coy with his news, “Just that it's fronted by a little-known someone named Dexter DeShawn.”

“What!?”

“Only the top fixer in Night-fuckin'-City! Fat-assed Black Jesus of the Afterlife. Three hundred pounds of partly gold-plated cool.”

Dex Deshawn is one of Night City’s best, a fixer known for working in the Afterlife club, where the best jobs and contracts are done. Two baby mercs like her and Jackie couldn’t dream to set foot in the place, still cutting their teeth and making their name. Hell, Dex hasn’t even been active in NC for two years and V’s still heard of him, leaving that much of a mark on the city. But, she chews the inside of her cheek.

“He’s back in the city?” She asks first, wanting as much detail as possible.

“Yeah, gang wars two years back. Somehow Dex got caught up in the craziness. Lotta bodies lyin' in the streets by the time the shootin' stopped. Eh, Dex got lucky, though. Managed to slip under the radar tir tempers cooled. Took a while… but he's made one hell of a comeback.”

“Two years is a hell of a break, the fuck was he doing?”

“Ah, guessin' he shoved pizzas in his mouth while jerkin' off to hardcore virtus. Important thing is he's back, needs a fresh crew and he found us.”

If he’s made such a comeback and is still that high up in the underground world, why would Dex come to them? They’ve been steadily building themselves up over the past six months sure, a solid network of fixers who work with them and a reputation for clean work. But, they still aren’t legends, not major league players. V isn’t even chipped much beyond the basics. People like Dex have a black book of borged out solos with corp money funding them, that can do basically anything they can do but better and quicker.

Only difference is, they’d be cheaper. So, unless he’s looking to exploit them for some rinky dink shit job…

“Okay,” she signs, deciding to just ask, “but why the hell would he be scouting us? You and me ain’t exactly major leagues yet.”

“You, me - nah. But T-Bug, she's the one that hooked us up, got us talkin’ knew it was a done deal the moment he laid eyes on me. 'Cause, c'mon - ain't nobody who can resist this. Am I right?”

“Wait, when? Where the fuck was I?”

“Uhhh, probably in the sheets with Cece, if I had to guess.”

“You said you had a date with Misty last night!?”

“I did, didn’t I.”

“What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dex is big on meeting his crew members one on one. Wanted to get a read on me, without anyone else around. No point in getting you excited until he was sold on me."

“Okay, fine,” she rolls her eyes, she would have appreciated a heads up, but there’s worse tragedies, “So, what’s the gig? He give you the specs?”

“Well, that's the thing, you see. Our lord and savior wants to tell you everything himself. Face to face, have your turn in the hot seat.”

“Oh, okay… how’d it go with you and Bug?” She can’t help the nerves suddenly bubbling up inside of her. V has to meet one of Night City’s top fixers, convince him she’s worth hiring. That’s only vaguely terrifying.

“Eh, not that bad, but… T-Bug and Dex go way back. And my face is yesterday's news, you’re the wild card here. Dex says he needs to check you, talk to you No pressure, but the whole thing is riding on you at this point.”

“Yeah, no pressure.”

“Ain’t as bad as you think, okay? Trust me. Dex is the real deal when it comes to fixers. Don't get me wrong, don't got nothin' against the Padre or Wakako, but… Dex is in a league of his own You know what I'm sayin'?”

“Still a fixer, may just be roping in the cheapest gonks he can find, so he can drop our corpses in the landfill once everything is said and done.”

“Hey now,” his tone dipping a little lower than usual, “didn’t pull you out of the trash just to see someone to throw you back in, mija.”

She doesn’t miss the softness in his eyes, the hazel green looking at her so affectionately, then his large warm hand ruffles through her hair, bringing that tinge of red back to her cheeks. Mija is a rare term of endearment from him, just that bit more familiar and sweet than his usual chica or jaina. As much as she worries, she knows if anything does go sideways, Jackie will be there to help her.

“I know that, Jackie,” she signs, then jabs his stomach, trying to dispel the tender mood, she searches for a topic switch,“so, when's the meet with Dex?”

"Uhh...now."

"What?"

"Just around the corner, next to Gramsci Burgers, he's waiting on you."

"What!?" She blinks, in disbelief. V has to meet him, today, now. Completely unprepared. Has Jackie lost his goddamn mind?

"Time sensitive stuff, V, we gotta get this ball rolling, and quick.”

“And you couldn’t have said any of this before?”

“No worries, you’ll be fine, I’m gonna go pop in to see Misty,” he points his thumb back over his shoulder, “while you talk us up and seal the deal, alright?”

“Not alright, none of this is alright.”

“You got this, chica, just make us look good.” With a heavy clap on her shoulder, he starts to walk away. Fucker.

“I’ll key your fucking bike!” She signs, upping the volume on her translator.

“Love you too, jaina, text me when you’re done!~” He yells back, knowing her threat is an empty one.

Then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd around the storefronts. V groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why on earth does she let him do this shit? A heads up, that’s all she asks for. Now, she has a meeting with one of the most influential fixers in Night City, with no idea of what to say or how to handle it. Make them look good, how the hell does she do that? He’s a loud mouth and she’s deaf, they sound more like a sitcom duo than a competent pair of mercs.

V shuts off her choker translator and gets her mask from her bag, sliding it onto her face and putting her hood up. The young merc climbs down from Jackie’s bike, leaving the dusty boot print on the seat, a little bit of petty rearing its head. She wrings and twists her hands together as she walks towards Gramsci’s Burgers, boots stomping across trash strewn pavement. She passes by hot pink tinted windows in buildings with strippers dancing to entice passerbys, a large open alleyway where a few groups of homeless people cluster in together.

The merc keeps her head down as she passes a skirmish between a group of Tyger Claws and the NCPD, a blood bath beneath an overpass. Between pigs or tigers; she has no preference. Not her fight. The sound of an emp grenade being thrown, pushes the merc to change the side of the street she walks on, she’s gotten used to the violence of Night City before the smell.

Shaded beneath a cement overpass is a sleek black limousine; Chevillion Thrax 388 Jefferson. An expensive well armored vehicle, one that certainly suits a man of Dex’s status. If the car itself was not enough protection the six foot seven bodyguard standing outside the rear doors tops it off. A portion of his face silver plated and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. She takes a few steps closer when the large stoic mass of a man sees her. He says nothing, only opening the rear door.

V swallows the lump in her throat and adjusts her mask; nerves pit in her stomach, a chilled sweat on her skin that doesn’t come from the August heat.

The smoke hits her first when she starts to climb inside the car, despite the open windows and door, choking her through her mask. If it were anyone other than Night City’s top fixer, she’d already be gone. Instead she sits in the leather seats, sitting next to Dex. While crude, Jackie’s description was apt.

Dex Deshawn is a large man; dark dreadlocks and a rounded belly. He puffs away on a cigar, his right arm gold from the elbow down. The fixer and Jackie have similar tastes in colors it seems; red, black, and gold. Gold cyberware, a gold watch, and gold chains all adorn the fixer. Red leather vest over a black shirt and red tinted sunglasses hiding his eyes. The guard shuts the car door.

“Miss V, masked merc herself. A pleasure,” he greets her, his voice deep and smooth. His bodyguard is moving to get into the driver's seat.

“Happy to meet you,” she signs and she can see a little twitch in his eyebrow, as her tech translates. Its unorthodox.

“Weren’t joking ‘bout you; no face, no name, and no voice,” he chuckles, seemingly amused at her quirks before speaking to the driver, “let's roll.”

A beat of silence, V’s mind already spinning at those words. Jackie is incredibly excited for this gig, she’d hate to be the reason it tanks, not to mention it’s a great chance for her too. A chance into the major leagues, to really prove herself and make bank doing it. But if Dex is… put off by her secretive tendencies and unorthodox presentation, that could spell disaster.

“Mind if I ask you something right off the bangle?” Dex’s voice pulls her back from her thoughts, the car moving as the fixer switches his cigar from gold fingers to flesh ones.

“Go for it.”

“Would you rather live in peace as Miss Nobody, die ripe, old and smelling slightly of urine? Or go down for all times in a blaze of glory, smellin' near like posies, 'thout seeing your thirtieth?”

The question takes her aback for a moment and the gears in her head start to turn. Honestly, she never even thought she’d make it to twenty. Felt like she’s been living on borrowed time ever since she was a kid; the first press of iron against her skull from her own father at nine. There are corpos pushing two-hundred and she can’t comprehend living beyond thirty. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a long, happy life. But, it’s never seemed like an option. She doesn’t necessarily want to die young, it just seems inevitable, but she can’t say she truly cares if she dies old either.

“Quiet life was never on the table for me. But, truth is, no matter the lifestyle you live, we’re all one stroke of bad luck away from death.”

“That so?”

“Look, I’ve been dodging death all my life. Been shot, beat, stabbed, hacked, strangled; you name it, someone’s done it to me. More close calls than I can count. And I’m still sitting here. This girl used to live with her sister, just a few floors above mine. Then she caught a stray bullet coming home from the gas station. Went to buy a snack and a gang fight broke out. She wasn’t in a gang, wasn’t a merc, just a nineteen year old kid who’d chat my ear off about how she wanted to have her own bakery one day. So, why did I make it to twenty and she didn’t? “

Death doesn’t discriminate and it doesn’t care what kind of life you’re trying to live. Its nipped at her heel all of her life, but hasn’t taken her and won’t until it’s damn ready. What’s the point in hypothesizing whether her life will kill her sooner or if she’d live longer if she settled down; neither are a guarantee of anything. She might as well live her life how she sees fit, hit the major leagues, and death will strike her whenever it sees fit. V has watched and heard so many tales of those in her megabuilding, good people, better than her… losing their lives for no good reason. Because there is none; no logic to suffering, no rhyme nor reason to why or when death takes us.

“Jackie did say you think too much,” Dex laughs, “though maybe he just doesn’t think enough.”

“Not the answer you wanted?”

“No right answer, just a pet topic of mine, helps get a read on people. T-Bug voted for the quiet life, been planning her retirement for years. Jackster went blaze of glory, no shock there. And then there’s you, throwing the whole damn question out.”

“Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“Maybe so.”

There’s something in his slight grin, his tone, and smooth voice that tells her this is going well. That somehow, she hasn’t fucked this entire thing up, yet, emphasis on yet. Her hands itch to fiddle with her shirt, no longer signing and needing to keep busy. But she stifles that instinct, forces her leg to not bounce with nerves.

“A’ight,” Dex speaks up after a moment, “listen close. Scannin' a serious job, now. Plain gargantuan compared to smashin' up a scav haunt.”

So, she’s gotten the gig? Don’t act excited, she tells herself, exited puppy merc is not a good look.

“What’s the job?” Moments like this she’s so glad she’s nonverbal, her throat feels like sandpaper. Her palms sweaty as she signs.

“There's this… prototype tech - a biochip, to be precise. Job’s to grab it. Simple.”

“Simple, sure… Assuming the tech belongs to a corp?” It has to be something big for Dex to be scouting for it.

“Mhm - Arasaka. Surely that's no problem?” His brow raises above his glasses.

“Course not, corps fuck us over everyday, be a crying shame not to return the favor every now and again.”

“Shit, you ain’t playing around. Got a feelin' this could be a start of a beautiful friendship built on heaps of eddies.”

“One step at a time, you got some sort of plan for grabbing this chip?”

“Two things,” he holds up two gold plated fingers, “First's a conundrum with the Maelstrom boys. Needs active resolvin', that. Second's a rendezvous. Simple. Client who brought us the job's anxious. She wants to parley with one o' the team.”

V’s face scrunches; why would the client need to meet? Its unusual to say the least, clients don’t usually meet the mercs directly. That’s the entire point of a fixer, a middle man to get them in touch and keep the deal fair. They’ve already got in touch with the fixer and arranged the gig. The hell else do they need?

“What’s the client’s deal? Why she need to meet?”

“Woman's name's Evelyn Parker. Vettin' her wasn't easy. Put the word out was lookin' for any kinda intel…”

The merc rolls her fingers, when Dex’s words drop off, encouraging him to explain further.

“Some brothers from Pacifica got back to me. Tol' me to stop lookin', end of convo, heheh. Anyway, our lil client insisted on meetin' someone with skin in the game - you know, who'll be there for it all. Yours truly'll be remote, T-Bug ain't no people person, and Jackie's only good at some things - I know you know what I mean. Pretty much leaves you.”

“Because I’m sure being unable to see my face or hear my voice will put her right at ease, I’m sure.”

“Ain’t there to give her the warm fuzzies, Miss V. She needs to know I sent a solid merc who does solid work.”

She both gets it and doesn’t. Jackie is the most sociable of their little motley crew, but he can be hard to take seriously, coming across as a bit more goofy. Its not a dig, she loves that about him. But, if you’re trying to convince a client you’ve gotten the best mercs for a job it can be a detriment. T-Bug tends to make people, especially strangers, feel downright insulted. So, V supposes she presents as a middle ground. Serious, yet vaguely off putting in her presentation, but competent and she won’t call the client an idiot even if they are.

“Understood, whats the deal with Maelstrom?”

“Slot in the shard,” he explains, getting a shard from the door compartment, holding it out to her. She takes it and slots into her mask, the interface suddenly clouded with a map and UI interface.

“Got a classic tale for ya. Psychogang, doin' its thing two weeks back jumped a Militech convoy, got away with the gear. Corp don't even know Maelstrom's involved. Now see, convoy was carryin' the Flathead - a little combat bot, a prototype. And I need me that bit o' high-grade military tech. 'Cause if we don't get that bot, we don't get no 'Saka chip. An' we sure as hell don't get no happily ever after. But don't get excited, it's a single-use toy.”

The images shift to show her the bot and its details, it reminds her of a spider. A flat metal base with spindly legs from its sides. The serial coding of the tech comes up.

“Now, I flat out purchased the damn thing from Maelstrom. Problem is, I did so from a gent went by the name of Brick. I say "went" 'cause Brick was the leader. Three days after we'd sealed our deal, his friend and gangmate, one Simon Randall, AKA Royce, plain dropped his ass. Royce is in charge now.”

The interface shows Brick; his actual name Declan Griffin. He has the pretty standard Maelstrom look, more metal than flesh. Glowing red optics implanted into his face, sandy hair shaved on the sides. Then it switches to Royce; no less decked out, but bigger and wider built. His head completely shaved with a thick dark beard; his red eye optics seeming to go further back, like his entire frontal lobe might be gone. Standard Maelstrom attitude; scrap out the flesh that matters, switch it out with chrome and damned the consequences.

“ And I got no way of knowin' if he aims to honor his predecessor's word. To add to this ‘shitstrom,’ one Meredith Stout of Millitech has developed an interest in said convoy.”

A woman pulls onto the screen, long blonde hair slicked back off of her face, icy colored eyes and dressed in tight black corp clothes. Sharp facial features and cyberware around her left eye. Standard corp look. The shard deactivates, nothing more to show, the world comes back to her view.

“New leader, what’s his deal?”

“Straight psychopath- chrome-lovin' kind.”

“And the skirt?”

“Corpo agent, internal affairs, Been skittin' 'round town askin' after the convoy as if her life depended on findin' it. The one lead she got's zip-tied in her trunk. Stick up her ass ain't growin' any shorter, so she must be gettin' desperate. Be wise to think how you could use that,” he smirks, “ ‘Course, to do so you'll need that frazzled cat's info. Sendin’ it now.”

V’s holophone lights up, as Dex’s optics glow beyond his glasses, him sending her the contact information. She’s not entirely sure if and how she’d use the Militech angle.

“Okay, think I got everything I need to get to work.”

“Why that's just music to my ears. I'll set up the meet with Miss Parker at Lizzie's Bar. Flathead, though, is gonna be all you.”

They both go quiet for a moment, V thinking as Dex continues to puff away on his cigar. Dex seems to approve of her, going ahead and giving her the prep work, but this opportunity could still be lost. If the client doesn’t approve or the Maelstrom debacle goes sour. This isn't a done deal, not yet. But she got through step one, which feels herculean. But something is still nagging at her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Something I wasn’t clear on?”

“Why us, me and Jackie? T-Bug I get, but why me and him?”

“Think I’d be better off looking elsewhere?”

“No, no, I ju-”

“Chill, I’m just teasing, Miss V. I get it, really, not even a year in the city, right?”

“Yeah…”

“As far you’re concerned you’ve barely cut your teeth, right? Wondering why I’m scouting someone out who’s still in merc diaper?”

“About sums it up.”

He’s laughing again, seeming to find her confusion funny, or maybe there’s a joke she’s missing. But that doesn’t make the knot in her stomach go down any easier.

“Talent don’t always recognize itself, I suppose,” he laughs, “thing is I took a break from the city for a good two years and its left me with… a bit of appetite. Wanted to scout a fresh team. New Bug from before and I heard Jackie name around before I took my leave, just in passing not a merc you’d look twice at. Heywood boy with some messy work.”

“Hmm,” she hums behind her mask, hoping this isn’t going to be Dex shit talking Jackie.

“Nothing against the cat, I know you’re chooms, but when I get back to NC and start looking for talent; well turns out Bug is working with Jackie on the regular. Ask her what’s changed, tells me he got himself a new partner. Skilled merc who’s helping him out; stealthy, effective, and damned good at what she does. Bug don’t give out compliments like candy. Ask around a little more, well, damn near every fixer’s got something to say about Jackie and his newest partner Miss V. Six months and she’s more talked about than some mercs who’ve been doing this for years.”

“I don’t know about all that.”

“Believe it or not, I got a couple years on you, Miss V,” he jokes, “so trust me, I know talent when I see it.”

“Thanks.”

Silence falls back over the car ride, V taking in what he’s said. He’s blowing smoke, he has to be, she’s not anything special or talented. She just does a job like anyone else. Maybe Bug’s word does mean a lot, but V still can’t say she’s doing anything more than anyone else.

“One more thing, Miss. V,” Dex says as the car takes a turn, “Quiet life or blaze o' glory?”

She can’t say she has a more concrete answer, still not confident she prefers one to the other. V can’t imagine herself doing anything else, she’s not cut out for it. But, doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of that life she doesn’t crave. Stability, security, and eventually settling down; doesn’t sound too bad. She finds herself thinking of Jackie and Misty. Despite Jackie wanting the blaze of glory, she knows he talks about marrying Misty and having kids one day. His life no more quiet than hers, but he still has plans of becoming a husband and father…

The car starts to slow, pulling up to the curb around Kabuki Market, construction work scaffolding lining a space between two buildings.

“Later, now,” Dex gives a short farewell as the car stops and V gets out of the limo, scuffing her boots across the pavement. The limousine pulls away, leaving V alone on the sidewalk. An empt

She tugs her holophone from her pocket, pulling up Jackie’s contact. The first ring barely starts before he’s answering; his face in a video call panel in her mask’s optics. There’s no doubt in her mind that he’s been messed up with anticipation.

“Just got done chatting with our new fixer.”

“Heheh. Gordito's a big deal - literally and not, yeah?”

“Intense, but guess I faired alright, wants us to klep some tech, but we got prepwork first.There's this combat bot, military prototype. Maelstrom grabbed it. He paid to take it off their hands and then they had a switch in management.”

“Right, right, heard about that. Royce versus Brick - hostile takeover.” Jackie’s tone is terse, uneasy. Valentinos and Maelstrom have a history, while Jackie might have left the Heywood gang, it doesn’t mean that history is suddenly gone.

“Yeah, we got to talk to the new guy, Also gave some details of a Militech agent, in case we could use her to get what we want.”

“Ehhh, I don’t know about that, chica. Militech’s more likely to cut you throat than cut you a deal.”

“Not a fan of getting the corp involved either, but I sincerely doubt they’ll just hand it over. And I really don’t want to have to spend eddies on a tech he already bought.”

“It’s your call V, but I say keep the corpos sidelined.”

“Well, then there’s the other thing. Client who puts the job on the job wants to meet with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently, she’s intent on meeting someone who will be there directly, I got the go ahead.”

“The fuck is Dex gonna do? Ride around in his limo, chat chicks up on the holo?”

“Hey, said it yourself, his job means his rules.”

“Must know what he's doin'… So, how you wanna play this? Maelstrom or Client, what's first?

“Client, she’s the one putting the job on the table. If she doesn’t give us the nod, then there’s no point in risking our neck with Maelstrom.”

“Orale, In that case, I'll head to All Foods, put my nose to the ground, sniff around. Hasta luego.”

Jackie hangs up and V sucks in a heavy breath; checking the time on her holophone. It’s five, an hour until six which is when Lizzie’s opens up. That alone seems like, an interesting choice on the client’s behalf. A braindance club run by the Mox, one of the only gangs V can say she genuinely likes. It’s made up of mostly sex workers who defend other sex workers. The club is mostly used for people to get braindances of the sex workers; but there’s a bar and dancefloor as well. V and Jackie have been there on gigs before. Not a bad little joint, but she has to wonder if this means the client is a Mox, a joytoy trying to rob Arasaka blind?

Speculation will get her nowhere, she decides, rubbing her face under her mask. She has some time and she’s not far from where T-Bug said she should pick up her little gift. A layered roof store on the top of two floored structure across the street, a bridge over the road leading her to it. Having to find a stairway outside the marketplace that loops around to the bridge.

T-Bug sent her to a dark little netrunning shop where a girl wearing dark glasses works at the desk. The exchange doesn’t take long, T-Bug had the clerk save back a Ping quickhack. A fairly basic little daemon that works with V’s mask, contacts, and internal cyberdeck. The clerk lets her play with it, pinging their security camera. Then V’s finding herself leaving the store with barely five minutes killed.

She fiddles with her phone, considering the Militech woman’s contact. Jackie’s right, not that she needed the reminder that corps are a fucking nightmare. But, the truth is she doesn’t truly know what the hell to do about Maelstrom. They need the bot; Dex made that clear. But the chrome loving gangoons don't really like to honor their deals, they’d sooner carve out V’s tongue and replace it with a cyber one just to see what happens. They’re going to expect Jackie and V to pay again. Or they’ll expect a war. And starting a war with a gang, on their turf, while they’re fresh off robbing a Militech convoy… Its a death sentence.

Fuck it, won’t hurt just to meet with the corpo, see if it gives her any ideas. V’s smart enough to handle herself against any corpo bullshit, she decides. Sorry Jackie. She presses the contact and rings Meredith Stout. In a short moment, the corpo woman’s image is in the video call panel. She looks just as she did in the shard, black formal clothes, slicked blonde hair; though the video panel has a layer of smoke as she puffs away on a cigarette.

“Stout here. Start by telling me how you got this number,” she says, a cold sharp tone and it sounds like there's a man groaning, struggling somewhere out of view.

“Little birdy told me you lost a convoy,” V teases, and can see Stout’s expression draw tight, brows furrowed. Then theres another groan, louder and sharper.

“You! Shut him up!” a smack rings out, “Spill what you know. Don't make me wait.”

“Not over the phone, meet me in person and we’ll cut a deal.”

“A deal… Fine. First exit off Skyline driving towards the NID. Storm channel under the overpass - meet you there.”

It’s still not that far away, roughly a five minute drive through China Town and up to Northside. Balls deep in Maelstrom territory; meaning Militech must already have an idea of who’s stole their shit. Not that they truly need the tech back, the militarized corp could lose a few hundred tanks and not see a dent in their bottom line. But pride or something.

She calls her car from her holophone when she reaches the road, her car pulling next to her in just a few moments. V climbs into her car and cringes when the radio turns on as soon as she starts the engine, Jackie’s station of choice coming on. She flips it off and drives, watching as Night City somehow manages to get worse as she gets closer to the meeting spot. Northside, use to be a hub of jobs and opportunity, now its just abandoned buildings covered in Maelstrom graffiti. V would call it the bad part of Night City, if not for every other part of Night City. But it is the biggest eyesore. Hell, Pacifica is a crime infested mess, but at least your mugging will have an ocean view.

V doesn’t go all the way down below the overpass, choosing not to meet them directly and immediately by going through the tunnel. Instead, she takes a left near Charter Street, going up towards the top of the overpass. She stops as the road is cut off by rickety metal gating, a homeless man passing through. V parks and walks through, there’s a bridge that crosses over the storm channel and she drops to a crouch as she walks over it. Getting a look at what waits for her below.

A Chevillion Ragnar Militech van; painted sleek black and armored beyond comprehension. Three people; two muscular guards and Meredith. The guards are chipped to hell and back; intensive cyberware. Something to be expected of any Militech employees, especially ones hired for muscle. There’s a small, childish, urge to hop down and surprise them. But that very well could end with her being shot. Instead, she behaves, makes sure her gun is loaded, and takes the stairs down; ill maintained metal steps with chipping yellow paint.

“Look lively!” Meredith calls out to her men as she catches sight of V, her expression nearly wrinkled with disgust at the sight of the masked merc, but extends her hand, “Meredith Stout. Take it you were the one to call.”

“That’s me,” V starts to sign with one hand and goes to shake the corpos hand with her other.

Then a fist collides the side of her head, quick, heavy it shoots pain through her skull. She’s knocked to the side, falling to the ground, stars dance in her vision. She fumbles to get her knife and stand up, but the guard is quicker, grabbing her wrists and yanking her up to her feet, just to wrench her hands behind her back. He’s easily over a foot taller, able to pull the small merc around and hold both wrists in one hand. Holding V back as Meredith draws closer, gloved hands reaching out and ripping the merc’s mask off, revealing the glowering blonde behind it.

“Thought you could blackmail me, bitch!” Meredith pushes her fingers into V’s hair, then yanking and tugging the merc’s head to the side as the guard shoves a jack into her neural port, “Set conditions?! Got any more for me?!”

V spits in Meredith’s face, her skull is white hot with pain between the yank of her hair and the punch. She can’t help but grin, watching her spit stick to to the corpo’s skin. Meredith lets go of V’s hair; reeling her hand back then smacking her across the face, sharp and strong enough to make the merc’s head move. Meanwhile the guard does god knows what, without her mask or contacts, V has no optic interface to tell her what’s being done; what the Militech goon could be doing.

The van doors open for a second behind Meredith, the other guard yanking a man out of it at gunpoint. A small, weasley guy in a suit with a face bruised black and blue.

“Christ Meredith!” He yells out.

“Shut your trap!” she looks at the guard holding V, “That fucking thing ready?

“All set.”

Leather clad fingers dig into V’s chin, Meredith forcing her head up, no doubt leaving bruises across the merc’s face, “Now answer my questions. Honestly. Forthrightly. Are you here alone?”

“I use ASL,” V forces herself to growl out, blood boiling. Who the fuck does this cunt think she is? Not only has V’s comfort of anonymity been ripped away, but her preferred form of communication is too.

“Sounds like you speak English just fine to me, now answer my fucking question, are you here alone!?”

“Yes. You crazy fuckin’ cunt, I’m here alone!”

“Its the truth,” the guard says, a fucking lie detector, of course.

“Do a sweep, now,” Meredith commands and a silver drone leaves the back of the van.

“Now listen close. This piece of shit,” she looks at her other captive, “Anthony Gilchrist is he your contact? Is he the one who leaked intel on the convoy?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“You answer to me bitch, Anthony Gilchrist!”

“Got no fuckin’ clue who he is or why I’m suppose to give a shit!”

“Checks out,” the guard tells Meredith.

“Came here cause I know who jacked the convoy, where the tech is.”

“Hmmm,” Meredith hums.

“I told you, I fucking told you, I’m not the mole!” Anthony screams out.

“Shut him up!”

“Unhand me now before I-- ungh!” Without another word Anthony is shoved back into the van.

“Her, you can let go. I wanna hear what she has to say.”

The guard rips the jack out from her neuroport and lets go of her wrists. The skin is bruises she notices as she grabs her mask off the ground, the snaps thankfully not broken as she slides it back on, tension in her shoulders easily only slightly with her face covered and arms free.

“We’re a little beyond that now, don’t you think,” Meredith remarks snidely, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck you,” V signs first thing.

“Stop wasting my god damn time, what do you want?”

“Gang has your tech, given where we are, I assume you know which one. All I want is one combat bot from it, thought we could help each out, but I’m not so sure.”

“Hmm, you have a plan of how to deal with them?”

“They’re expecting payment, but I don’t have the eddies laying around.”

“Course you don’t,” Meredith quips and V rolls her eyes.

“So, without cash, the option is to take it by force.”

“You’ll pay, but with our money.”

Meredith holds out a credchip shard, little chips that hold a certain amount of cash on them. V chews the inside of her cheek, looking at the green shard held in a gloved hand, it seems too good to be true. Because it certainly is. But, she takes the credchip.

“You pay with that chip, and that's all you gotta worry about. Try to fuck me in any way, and I'll be seeing you real soon,” Meredith delivers a final threat before climbing into the van, her last guard clambering into the drivers seat.

“You're making a mistake,” Anthony screams from inside the van as it takes off “This cunt's already good as dead! And she'll take you down with her!”

And then they’re gone; V left with a bruised face, a tender scalp, and a credchip in her hands. Jackie was right, she’s sure, god knows aligning with corps isn’t her way of doing things. There’s no way in hell, a Militech rep is just going to hand off ten grand without a plan.

V takes quick and steady steps back up the stairs and she sees it as she gets above the storm channel. The Militech drone, still hovering. Following her, tracking her. Her hands on her pistol in the next second, promptly shooting the drone down in sputtering sparks. Meredith can fuck off if she thinks V is just going to lead them to the Maelstrom hideout.

The assault and interaction bit up a chunk of time, so she climbs back into her car, time to meet the client. Anxiety pitted tight in her gut as she drives back down the Night City roads.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #jackie welles #meredith stout #johnny silverhand #silverv #eventually #aidan becker #aidan v becker #female v #can you feel the sun?

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