#even I who have not watched the show noticed that. [REDACTED] would not fucking say or do that.

[tired-reader-writer]

There, it's behind a lock now— phew.

#unrelated but I'm gonna ramble in the tags #I used to have this friend right? they claimed to hate AI they swear! but then happily go about using chat/character AI #and happily POST about it thereby promoting it #it steals from actual human writing it's unethical and it's HORRIDLY OUT OF CHARACTER #even I who have not watched the show noticed that. [REDACTED] would not fucking say or do that. #so I checked it w my other friends who actually watched the show and turns out I was right. #the ex-friend's like I'm quitting character AI I swearrrrr but when I went to look at their blog to see if I should unblock them #(I blocked them out of frustration) #I saw that they were STILL posting about that damned thing #fucker #death to AI death to all fucking AI they're a fic writer how could they lack this much respect for their own craft

[gangrenados]

No bc that gif od him using the screwdriver makes me [REDACTED]👁️👁️

This one?

Me too, I actually girly sighed when this scene came on, I mean, I was soo unprepared for this lol

And now this make me think about watching Dick fix his suit/weapons. There would be a comfortable silence that Dick would break whenever he asked you to pass him some tools.

Your eyes would go from the mess that is the working table with all the tools scattered around alongside the gadgets he uses in his vigilante activities.

Admiration and fear perhaps for his wellbeing since a duty like this can get extremely dangerous- settling down as you wonder how he can take care so casually about this things that had managed to stop crimes and hurt bad people.

Dick is there, fixing that damn suit without battling an eye and then there's when you noticed him.

You have watched that body so many times, but it's still nice taking a quick glance of it and notice the new things.

The bruises that are flourishing on his tanned skin, the way his v-line shows above the hem of his pants, and how his hands grabs the screwdriver and the way his muscles flex anytime he turns it.

All of this makes you want to go to Dick and smother that man in love, kisses and other things your mind wants to block since this is supposed to be a domestic time between you two.

You want him to fuck you till you can't even form a coherent thought, but at the same time that is overpowered by the need to take care of the man who doesn't mind walking around with bruises and cuts as long as he is able to protect those around him and bring some justice to this world.

He's so beautiful and stubborn, so-

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Dick says without taking his eyes off the belt lying in front of him, you're left speechless and in that moment you can notice there's a small grin flattering his lips.

"Don't flatter yourself." You say back as you rest your head on the palm of your hand and look somewhere else but the guy who has you wrapped around his finger.

And you love him dearly but sometimes you'd prefer if he doesn't interrupt your mind rushing with nonsensical ideas.

#did this have anything to do with the ask? not really #that just came to my mind and i dumped it there lol #dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson imagine

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

#Danny Phantom #phandom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #danny #mr. lancer #sam #star #tucker #basically danny's entire english class #comedy #school projects #danny's a little shit #messing with the observants from afar #my writing #fan fic #phan phic #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #gothmoth #thetribalmoth

[ybangtannies]

Hiiii I am new t the whole requesting thing so first for everything 🥰 So, here it goes A scenario for yandere namjoon where there’s lawyer y/n who’s hardworking and mature x businessman namjoon who is corrupt in his business ways 👉👈 I dunno if this is okay 🤡

Masterlist

Word count: 3.1k

“I don’t get it, why don’t we just throw them off and stop having them as our clients? This could end so bad for us, the whole law firm could be affected by their- his antics.”

“We have already talked about this,” your friend sighed not sparing you a look, eyes focused on her phone, “yes, it’s a well-known secret that Mr. Kim’s business is corrupt, and he surely doesn’t make the most legal negotiations but,” now she did look at you, her brown eyes showing the tiredness of having to have this conversation with you, again, “we don’t really have the liberty of saying no to him. A lot of tabloids would be up in no time if we decided to stop representing them which would lead to him surely making declarations against us and that wouldn’t surely end up being beneficial for us. We’re already a small firm, Mr. Kim being our client is a huge deal, most of our - including yours- income comes from his business.”

You sighed, about to reply that yes, you understand her point but maybe if you made public those documents that prove his corrupt ways, the whole scene could be different for the firm and you’d be able to turn the tables, but she beat you and added, “plus, he’s a whole snack, girl, why are you even complaining?”

Not even bothering to answer, you rolled your eyes and let out a groan, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your office. On your way there, you saw your boss, “Good morning, y/n,” he said with a smile, “please remember that Mr. Kim is coming later to discuss some things with you.”

The smile you previously had on your face faltered a little, surely you decided it was better to erase that from your mind and was hoping -in vain- that another thing would have come up so Namjoon couldn’t make it to the meeting. “Of course, Mr. Min, I already have prepared the files he asked me about and possible solutions.”

“Good, it’s wonderful to see how hard you work, y/n. Keep it like that, and you’ll make it big.” With that and another polite smile, Mr. Min walked away from you.

You sighed heavily and finally arrived at your office. It seems that these days the only thing you do is sigh and feel frustrated. Of course, you knew that being a lawyer in a firm meant that you won’t always be working for people you like but you didn’t think that it would entail working with a corrupt businessman without any chance of exposing him or just putting a halt to your contract with him. You knew the risks of doing that, of course, and that it would most likely mean you being fired alongside all your co-workers and put on a blacklist for all the other law firms to know that you weren’t trustworthy. However, that didn’t shake the guiltiness and rage you felt when thinking about how hard you have worked all your life to get where you are now just to risk it all for an asshole that was incompetent enough to do dangerous deals with people he shouldn’t.

You were wrong, though, Namjoon wasn’t an incompetent, quite the contrary actually. He was a very clever man indeed, knowing that having a law firm by his side would most likely help him cover his back in case something was to happen, especially if said firm is small and he is the main source of income.

“Mr. Kim is here” said the receptionist through the phone.

“Okay, send him up here.”

You collected your thoughts and breathed deep, praying you won’t snap at him like it had happened some other times before. It wasn’t just that you didn’t like the way he was managing his company but his personality and overall aura… you didn’t like it, not one bit. No matter how handsome and attractive he was.

A knock was heard in your office, followed by a voice “It’s Kim Namjoon, Mrs. y/s, may I come in?”

You arched your brow looking at him through the glass windows your office had, seeing his dimples showing because of the smile he had on his face.

“You may, Mr. Kim” you spoke in a monotonous voice, focusing again on the screen of your computer.

Namjoon’s smile turned to be more amused seeing your reaction, the one as always: trying your best not to look at him. He opened the door and walked in, closing it after him and taking a seat in a chair in front of your desk, not waiting for you to ask him to do it. You probably wouldn’t, anyways.

Of course, he knew the animosity you felt towards him and while at first that made him a little miserable and he almost lost his mind, with time he started finding it more amusing than anything and viewed it as a challenge to finally get on your good side. Naturally, the desire of taking you with him to keep you in his house was always at the back of his mind and he knew that sooner or later he would have to resort to that if he wanted you to be finally his, which of course he did. Until that moment, though, he would enjoy you being feisty towards him, it was amusing and kind of endearing seeing you struggling and fighting against yourself to not give in.

“How are you feeling on this beautiful day, Mrs. y/s?” Namjoon asked with a grin, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s actually interested in your answer.

He’s so hot, y/n! And the fact that he’s going against the law and with your help at that, only succeeds at making the situation even hotter.

That’s the message your friend sent you merely minutes ago, probably when she saw Namjoon was on his way to your office. Message you, of course, decided to ignore.

“It’s been good so far but I’m afraid that a big black cloud has just appeared to ruin it” you answered with a fake smile and felt pride at seeing how his smile faltered. You almost felt bad if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a criminal.

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly ready to say one of the numerous flirty lines he’s been trying to use on you since the very beginning, but you were faster than him and asked about what it was that he needed help with this time.

“Ah, you see, there’s this huge deal I’m about to sign in two days so I thought that it would be a good idea for us both to go through the contract together and also, I wanted you to redact a confidential agreement.” You hated the way in which he said it, like if everything were okay, as if it was just a normal deal and there was nothing fishy about it. You also hated knowing that he could very much do this with his own men -it wouldn’t be the first time- but still decided to come here to torment you.

That was how time passed: you both going through the contract, making sure everything was in order -or as in order as it could considering there were definitely some fishy things that needed to be disguised or be described in a very vaguely-, you trying to dodge every attempt from Namjoon part at flirting with you and him finding it both amusing and adorable.

You danced in your interior once everything was done and it was finally time for him to leave, looking into your watch you realised it was almost time for you to go home as well and mentally sighed in relief. You got over another day.

“If that was all, Mr. Kim, you’re free to go now,” you said with a tired smile that Namjoon noticed didn’t reach your eyes. He so desperately wanted to make you smile for real, be the one on the receiving end of the cheerfulness he knew you had in you; he’d make sure he was the only one getting it one day. “I’ll send you the confidential agreement tomorrow before lunchtime so you can go through it in case there is something else that needs to be changed for the day of the signing.”

“Just one more thing, miss” he said, getting up from the chair he occupied for almost two hours in your office, “I think it’ll be better if you came to me with the agreement in person instead of just sending it to me.” Namjoon saw the protest and confusion on your face and before you could give him a negative, he talked again “there had been several attempts these past few weeks at hacking my accounts as well as the one of my other employers so I’d prefer it if the agreement could me better in my hands rather than on my email. We’re working on it, but until I’m sure there would be no possibility for a cyber-attack...an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure”

As much as you wanted to say, ‘fuck no, not in a million years I’m going to see you more than was needed’, you obviously couldn’t, and there was no good reason for you to deny his request.

“Sure, I understand it. I’ll be there tomorrow.” Your answer came more tense than you wanted to, but you wanted Namjoon to know of your discomfort at the premise of having to spend more time with him.

“I’ll send a car for you, darling, there’s no need for you to go anywhere.”

With that and a wink, Namjoon abandoned your office, leaving you there hanging, you wanted to refute that there is no need for him to send a car for you, that you can very happily go on your own and have a car that works very well but, of course, he always has to have the last words. You rolled your eyes and groaned, touching the bridge of your nose. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

As Namjoon said, a car was sent your way to the law firm you worked at to take you to his office, or at least that was where you supposed you were going to meet him. But upon seeing the car taking a completely different direction from where it should go, your uneasiness started growing.

“Excuse me,” you called for the attention of the chauffeur, “aren’t we going to Mr. Kim’s office?”

“No, Ms. y/s, I was told to take you to Mr. Kim’s place of residence.”

That fucker, you muttered under your breath. Once you arrived, you couldn’t help but gawk at Namjoon’s place of residence. You were expecting it to be huge and over the top, that’s the kind of house that Namjoon required to have considering the way he carried himself, but this was something else. A whole family could live here, and they wouldn’t even have to see each other if they didn’t want to -and you were referring to a family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and kids.

The chauffeur opened the door of the car for you and was the one leading the way into Namjoon’s mansion as well. The interior was even more dazzling if that was possible: it was decorated in a minimalistic and modern way but there was a hint of old fashioned in some of the furniture. It was exquisite. You were guided all through the mansion until you arrived at the front of two huge mahogany doors, the chauffeur -you felt bad you didn’t ask for his name, he seemed nice- knocked on one of them and from the other side you could hear Namjoon’s voice ordering whoever was at the other side to come in, immediately he opened the door and made you a gesture with his hands for you to go in. You nodded your head and muttered a ‘thank you’ before entering the room. The door closed right behind you.

Namjoon looked up from his computer and a smile quickly found its way to his face upon seeing you right there in the middle of his office. He got up from his chair and moved around his massive table. “Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you, please come and take a seat,” you did as tell and came near him, smiling slightly when Namjoon moved the chair so you could sit, “I apologize for the inconvenience I may have caused you with coming all the way here, some problems came up this morning and I wasn’t able to make it to my building.”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Kim?” You asked more out of courtesy than because you were actually concerned or interested in what his answer would be.

“Nothing you have to worry about, darling,” the paternalistic tone he used made you almost roll your eyes even if you were secretly grateful, he didn’t bother you with the problems of his corrupt business, “since it’s almost lunchtime, I asked my service to bring us the meal here later so we can eat together.”

“There was no need for that, Mr. Kim, I won’t be here much, you’re just required to go through the agreement and then I’ll be on my way to work again.”

Namjoon only hummed and went back to his chair in front of you. Without any further distractions you both proceeded to went through the document and, right as you stated, it didn’t take much time and since Namjoon didn’t really have any objections, you wrapped it up in no more than an hour but, much to your dismay, by that time the food has already been brought up to his office and you didn’t have it in you to deny it when it looked and smelled as delicious as it did.

“Please, try it,” Namjoon encouraged you, both of you have moved to one of the sofas on his office, and he took advantage of it and was now right next to you, “I didn’t know what you enjoy, so tell me if you don’t like this and I’ll ask for the chefs to make you something different.”

Now, that was a lie, Namjoon already knew everything there was to know about you, having made an exhaustive study of your life himself two days after seeing you for the first time; he knew the name of all your relatives, how many times you’d moved, the college you attended, the marks you got, hell, he even knew the name of all your ex-boyfriends and friends that were no longer in your life. You were fascinating to him, and he couldn't wait until he could uncover every single secret you kept to yourself.

“This looks amazing, I’m sure it’ll taste just the same” you said almost salivating, it’s been a long time since you last ate a proper home cooked meal. You could feel the intense gaze of Namjoon on you while you took the fork on your mouth and swallowed the food, you couldn’t help but make a sound of satisfaction at the taste and it was only in that moment that he averted his eyes from you at the sight, clearing his throat and taking a sip of the wine that was brought alongside the meal. “This is amazing! Thank you so much, Namjoon.”

You didn’t even notice you called him by his name or the real smile that was on your face and directed at him. But he did, and he could feel his heart galloping in his chest like crazy, feeling already addicted to hearing his name rolling on your tone without an annoyed tone to it and being on the receiving end of your more than beautiful smile.

You both kept eating and eventually started talking about everything and anything. It surprised you how you found yourself having a good time and enjoying Namjoon’s company more than what you thought you’d ever do. He was still an asshole in your eyes, and you didn’t like not one bit the way he made business, but you couldn’t deny that he gave you an interesting conversation and was funny even when he wasn’t trying to. Eventually though, you started to feel more and more dizzy, and a migraine was starting to form in your head.

“Is everything okay, darling? You’re getting paler by the second” you heard Namjoon voiced next to you, he sounded concerned and was closer to you than a minute before, one of his hands almost resting on your knee.

“Yeah...no, do you happen to have any pills? My head is starting to kill me…” your voice sounded estranged even to yourself and the strength was quickly leaving your body.

Before you could try to fight it, darkness consumed your every sense and the last thing you could feel or hear was Namjoon’s body pressed against yours and his smooth voice calling your name.

After twenty minutes or so, Namjoon finally decided that it was time to lead you to his room and rest your body on his bed. He’s been admiring your face, being this the first time, he has had the chance to do it from such a close distance, delighting himself in how perfect your body felt pressed to his and how from this day on, he’d be able to feel this way for the rest of his life.

He closed the door from his bedroom and locked it just in case, though he doubted you’ll wake up until tomorrow. On his way to the door, he made a call.

“What’s up, Namjoon?”

“I’m going there now, Yoongi. She’s already in my bed resting.”

Nothing more needed to be exchanged between the two men and Namjoon hung up right when he got into his car. Yoongi and Namjoon have been friends since they were both teenagers, having gone through a lot together. When Namjoon received an email with several photos of you he hadn’t order to take and a simple message saying, ‘we are keeping an eye on her too’, he knew he had to do something to keep you safe and it was actually Yoongi’s idea to lead you to Namjoon’s house, drug you and keep you there finally with him. They still had to figure out who the fuck had guessed Namjoon favoured you, but now that you were going to be safe by his side, he couldn’t help but smile silly all the way up to Yoongi’s building.

He knew he had a long way ahead of him until you fell in love with the same intensity, he had fallen for you, but he was sure you’d both get there and be the perfect couple he’d been dreaming of for so long.

#yandere namjoon #yandere bts #yandere jin #yandere yoongi #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere suga #yandere jhope #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere au

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Sadism & Trolling (Vega Headcanons)

NGL, I’m gonna be straight with y’all...

I miss Vega! And uh, since I've been listening to his videos lately, I wanted to write a oneshot for him until I decided on some headcanons at the last minute. 

I'm not sure what role the Inchoate Daemon Listener in his more recent videos would play in the future, so I tried my hands on writing his 'lover'. I always wanted to write a morally dubious Listener anyway! 

So this is entirely separate from the Inchoate Daemon Listener. 

Vega calls his Listener 'Hamster' for their snacking habits. He would only calls you 'Dear heart' when he's feeling vulnerable or in intimate situations. 

He meets them before Ivan's story. He was actually walking around humans for a change of pace, feeding on the faint lingering negative emotions hovering around the park. It's the human equivalent of getting a cup of coffee in the morning to kickstart their day.

Suddenly, Vega felt intense and strange emotions coming from somewhere in the area. It's a combination of righteous fury, hurt and glee. 

He tracks the owner of the maelstrom to find you. A lone human sitting on a bench underneath a tall, shady tree. Your expression is a total contrast to what you're feeling. It's calm and almost bored. 

After using magic to do some digging and breaching personal privacy, Vega found out that you plan an act of horrible revenge on a cheating partner. He sticks around to watch it all play out. 

He loved the show. So much so he claims you as his charge. 

However, jokes on him; you're a passive and lazy person. Your default setting is living life operating on the least amount of brain cells and effort. So after feeding on your heartbreak from the breakup, Vega has no idea what the fuck to do with you. 

So he subtly pulls the strings around you in hopes to get you to feel upset or at least annoyed; coffee spilt on your work laptop, someone bought that last slice of your favourite cake, bad internet connection at home, anything! 

But the most you'd (unknowingly) give him is a sigh before you look for something else to occupy your time. To Vega, he feels like a first-time owner to a pet that isn't behaving as it should be. You're like a hamster running in its ball, utterly oblivious of the world outside.  

When you do react emotionally, it's like a wildfire - a roaring and unapologetic blaze that will burn for days. Especially when it comes to negative emotions. However, it takes such a long time to build up and rarely does it even spark. Honestly, to you, working up to such a passionate response is a hassle. 

Unfortunately for Vega, he realises this a little too late. 

The two of you officially meet when you begin to notice that certain objects around the house aren't exactly where they should be. Like how the coffee cup that you instinctively put away from the laptop is now right next to it when you came out of the bathroom. How you can never find your favourite red mug or t-shirt despite you just wash them. 

Slowly but surely, you feel like you suddenly gain an invisible annoying and unwanted roommate. 

Vega detects your annoyance and plans to 'farm' it, only for it to hilariously backfire when you begin to hit up the local priests to discuss about an exorcism and thus, raise a potential covert risk. 

When he first appeared in front of you, your immediate action was to grab a baseball bat, shock and indignation flare within you. 

"So you're the fucking bastard that has been eating my fucking Pringles!" 

"What!? No! And I swear to any God you believe in, I’ll make you regret it if you swing that thing at me."

“Hah! Is that a challenge!? Buy back my snacks. Now. Before I break your bones and sell them to the black market!”

"News flash, Hamster: you're the one who's been eating all of them. Those after midnight snacks? What? Did you think you were sleep-eating?" 

"Who are you calling hamster!?"

"Of course, that's the one you have a problem with..." 

Do you know that one Tv Trope? The 'savvy guy, energetic girl' and 'monster and the maiden'? You and Vega are something in-between, where Vega is determined to feed on you, his charge, while you make it your life mission to be his biggest inconvenience ever. 

That being said, there's a lot of things you share in common with him. For one thing, you live by the 'not my circus, not my monkey' rule, so you don't particularly care what Vega does outside of your life as long as it doesn't cause you any problems. 

You both can be petty AF, and if one is petty, the other will automatically prepare for the other's revenge. 

Vega likes to give you shit for being an Unempowered Human, and in return, you would do everything in your power to piss him off. EX: You’ll make a joke about his shoe size. You know what they say, small shoes mean small... package. And besides, he's a Daemon, right? Doesn't that mean he has hooves? 

Both of you toed the line between violence and resignation, which is impressive that you're still alive. You made it clear to him that if he wants to take you down, you'll take him down with you, and Vega can respect that. 

Vega starts to catch feelings for you after you blackmail him into going to the cinema with you because there's a discount on the tickets for a pair of friends/couple. He's shocked to find that he enjoyed himself that night. 

As for you, you start to feel fond of him when he orchestrated a string of misfortune on your asshole of a colleague. He never once admit it, but at that point, you could read his body language and behaviours rather well. How could you not when your colleague’s series of unfortunate events result in a whole week of nothing but good vibes for you.

Neither you nor Vega confesses your feelings, but you ended up in a romantic relationship nonetheless.

Vega has never fallen in love before, so this emotion is very strange and new for him. From his annoying charge, you've become his most cherished person in the world. 

Vega protects you the only way he knows how. By making the people who upset you miserable or just straight up terminate their trial period of existence. As a Sadism Daemon, Vega is very well aware of the stigma that comes with his kind, and it really doesn't help that he loves what he does, so you have to rein him in from time to time. 

On that note, expect this Daemon to be possessive as hell. No matter what you do around the house, Vega would attach himself to you. Oh, you're working on the couch with the laptop on your lap? He'll move you so you'll sit on his lap while he watches TV. You're relaxing in the bathtub? Scoot forward, he wants to sit behind you. If you're talking to a friend on the phone, he'll peppered kisses and leave hickies on your neck in an attempt for you to end the call. If he could, he would hide you from the world itself so only he could have you. So please stomp on his feet when he starts to sweetly suggest you disappear with him. 

If it's raining at night, both of you would silently lie on the bed together, just basking in one the other's presence. If you fall asleep first, Vega will turn you into his little spoon.

In terms of dating and due to his possessive and protective nature, most of your dates would be in your home. Movie marathons, him playing as your audience for your video game matches, monopoly sessions ending up in a messy divorce sitcom or just napping together. Good for you if you're a homebody. If you're the outgoing type? Good luck; you'll need to be as persuasive as him to budge Vega. The most Vega is willing to go are breakfast/lunch/dinner dates. The fewer eyes on you, the better. 

It's not long before Vega stops feeding on you entirely. He only takes a few destructive emotions that overwhelm you and help you work the rest out in a healthy manner. 

That's when he starts to think about spending his forever with you. 

Don't be mistaken, though; Vega is still a sadism Daemon that doesn’t take kindly to those getting in his way but to you? His one happiness in life? He's your loyal lover. 

-

OK. I might have gone a bit crazy with Vega but in my defence, I had like 3 mugs of tea and a tub of Belgian chocolate ice-cream and ramen last night after midnight plus a weird longing for him. 

It’s weird. 

#redacted ASMR #headcanons #vega #gender neutral s/o #this turn crack-ish a little bit #i gotta stop writing while sleep deprived #ffs

[pseudofaux]

Pseu! I miss you, hope all is going well! Definitely a good night for a good drink!

How about some tipsy fun with Shigezane? 🥺🥺 maybe a 4 or 5? wreck me! Wait does he drink? Gosh I need to replay him.

Cheers!!❤❤❤

HEY, honey! Hello, I hope you are doing okay! What a bonkers year. 😫 I hope you are looking forward to your birthday! 💕💕💕

Shige DEFINITELY drinks, he gets straight up... “overtoasted” in a story or two. (my hero) SO LET’S WRECK YOU A LITTLE (with love)!

The watermelon frou frou drink you included looks sooooo yummy, I’m making this modern AU and putting it in. And thinking VERY HARD about the watermelon in my fridge.

CWs for: unprotected sex, Shigezane being criminally cute and having a perfect, totally bomb [REDACTED, TEXT IS PLACED BEFORE THE CUT]

totally bomb DICK, it’s his DICK, we all know it’s big

His name is Shigezane and he tastes like a sugar rim, the flirtiest sweetness she’s ever known. He smells sweet, too-- she thinks it’s Armani but can’t tell which one. It might be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking (she has the best buzz going, fun and still in control), but from his jokes and his touching her as they dance, it feels like he’d be an enthusiastic, gentle, appreciative lover.

She feels like she wants to find out if that’s true. Two more songs, she tells herself. If I still like him after two more songs, I’ll take him to my room. And aside from the thrill of that prospect, she’s hoping she still likes him after two more songs, because she likes him a lot right now. He’s made her laugh so much and his touches have all been warm and good, but not too much.

Just right. He’s Goldilocks.

(Okay, that’s got to be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking-- his hair is actually a pretty, soft brown that’s more silver than gold somehow. But he’s still just right. She wants to get her fingers in that hair. If he kisses so well he can distract her from the sugar rim of their watermelon shots when they’re pretty much in public, she has high hopes for what else he can do with his mouth when they’re alone.)

This reception has been fun. Ridiculous but happy, the height of happy beach summer to match the afternoon’s wedding. Bright flowers everywhere, a little umbrella in every drink. She’s tasted pineapple, watermelon, and coconut. It’s long past sunset now, but the dancefloor on the restaurant’s deck is close enough that they can hear the night waves, even the ones they can’t see.

There are even torches on the beach, and dark wood chairs in the sand. The bride and groom took pictures cuddling on one earlier, and she’d looked on with the rest of the bridal party and beamed for them. Was there anything as nice as a happy wedding? No demanding parents. Just happiness and love. 

Well. Maybe spending a happy wedding reception with a nice guy who was making those gray slacks work so well.

“You up for another dance?” he asks, and holds out his hand to her like something from a movie. She already knows how nice it feels to put her hand in his, and she needs to see what he does for the next two songs. So she puts her hand in his and says “Are you?” and totally smiles at him just because he smiles at her so big and bright.

He doesn’t do annnnnything to put her off for three songs. But before she can pull him aside to ask about going somewhere, he says “Hey-- you wanna walk on the beach?” and his glance is so sweet she’s not even mad at him for being so sweet and smooth before she could. His look isn’t shy or cocky. She looks at him for a moment just to soak in how damn cute he is, that soft brown hair all wind-mussed. And then she takes his hand again. 

They walk beyond the light of the torches, far enough down the beach that they’re in front of another restaurant’s slice of sand. The buildings on the land side are closed and dark. It’s not pitch black, but it is nighttime, and breezy. She’s glad the air is still summer warm.

“Oh no,” Shigezane says suddenly. There’s so much dread in his voice she’s worried there’s something dangerous on the beach with them.

She stops walking. “Uh... What’s wrong?” 

“Babe,” he says, gently tugging her hand. “There’s not a single person in any of these seats. Theses chairs are lonely.”

A sound stalls in her throat as she decides how lame that was, but he’s laughing and pulling her with him onto one of the beach chairs, and she goes. These are painted white, and they look soft and blue in the dark. Their bodies sit not very far apart at all on the lounger.

“I came out onto a dark, secluded beach, on a summer night... with a dork,” she deadpans, just like he did. He clutches at his heart and makes a show of her words wounding him.

“But,” she says, leaning the small space it takes to nudge him with her shoulder, “He’s a decent kisser.”

“Oh,” Shigezane says, now making a show of thinking over how that must change things.

“And he has a big heart for lonely furniture,” she whispers as she turns her body.

“Gigantic,” he whispers back. “Monumental.”

“Anything else gigantic you wanna tell me about?” she asks his mouth.

His exhale is sudden and gratifying to her. “Maybe, you know. Something reasonable,” he stutters. “Something reasonably sized--”

She kisses him again.

It’s not long before she’s straddling his lap, flowy dress bunched in his hands at her hips. She can tell from the promising stiffness she’s been grinding against that he was being modest, and she likes that. She likes him.

“I like you,” he says, and his head is tossed back but she’s watching everything she can see of his face, so she catches it. She smiles and puts a little kiss on his chin, just because he’s so damn cute.

“I like you, too,” she tells him. “But if I am going to cling to your shoulders--”

“Please cling to my shoulders. Oh my god. That’s really hot.” 

“Mmhmm. And if I’m going to cling to your shoulders,” she repeats, curving her palms over the tops of his shoulders and loving the muscle she can feel leading toward his back, “You’ll have to undo your pants yourself.”

“Ohhhh my god, okay, yes, absolutely,” he agrees, pushing himself up by the thighs, her grip on his shoulders and his hands holding her hips keeping her from falling. “Cling, babe. Please. I’m steady.”

She lets her hands really grip him and anchors herself with his body. He keeps one hand tight on her hip while the other works at the fly of those damn slacks. “Your ass looks good in those,” she tells him. “When we were spinning each other, I noticed.”

“Don’t make me blush,” he says, but even in the dark she can tell he already is, and smiling, too. He does whatever pulling needs to be done and sighs when his length is free. She can feel the warmth of it, like the sun hid a part of itself away for her to find in the dark.

It’s hard to decide if she wants to keep clinging (it is pretty hot, and she’s enjoying how solidly he’s kept her up by the strength of his shoulders and thighs), or touch him.

“Can I?” she asks.

“Doll, you can do anything you want,” he moans, head going back again. “Keep grinding, don’t grind, please just stay with me.” His hand goes back to her hip and he settles back down, waist of his pants high on his thighs. One day soon she wants to put her hands on his ass when he’s fucking into her, but here on the beach chair it would probably hurt. So she settles for grinding and kissing his Armani-scented jawline, following the cologne to the collar of the linen shirt he’s wearing. One hand stays close to his chest as she slides it down. Down. And then he’s wrapped by her hand and she cannot believe how smooth and thick this man’s dick is. What the hell. 

“I’m game to do more than grind if you are.”

“Fuck, Doll, anything you want, I meant it,” he says, weaving after her mouth as she playfully evades kisses. “But yes, hell yes. Very game. Atari. Dreamcast. Parcheesi.”

“Shut up, Shigezane.” She keeps a light grip as she begins to jerk him.

“I am never going to talk again,” he promises, and she laughs and kisses him and jerks him faster, and doesn’t call him on it when he starts chanting her name and curses and endearments. It’s better to let him, and focus on how damn good he feels in her hand. How good is he going to feel inside her? How would he feel in her mouth?

She has a nice little fantasy of going down on him in the kitchen of her apartment. Just lean him against the fridge-- mind the ice button, Shigezane-- and go to her knees. She thinks she could mouth the head of his cock for days, the skin of the rest of him feels so good.  “Gonna, soon,” he pants.

She leans forward and pulls in a deep breath of his cologne. She’s gotta find out what kind this is. “Well then you need to tell me,” she whispers, “where you want to be when you do.”

His answer is a series of swears but none of them are a location.

“How do you feel about cumming inside me?”

He looks at her like he cannot believe his luck. She likes that.

“Are you-- Yes, but... you’re okay...?”

“Are you clean?” she asks. “I do have a condom in one of my pockets.”

“Thought I could feel that,” he says, squeezing the dress fabric. “My god, you’re a dream.” He clears his throat. “I’m clean,” he says, more seriously. “But I’ll wear it.”

“Do you want to,” she presses.

“Uh, I am-- more than willing,” he sputters. “I think that’s clear?”

She laughs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“Shigezane. How do you feel about cumming inside me?” she asks again. She presses him against the very wet gusset of her panties and holds him there so she can make herself even wetter. He’s so hot, and so cute, and his dick feels so good.

Goldilocks.

“I want you to be comfortable,” he says carefully.

“Then I want you in me. I’m lonelier than these chairs,” she tells him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, grinning. She shakes her head and grins right back.

She stands in the sand and holds up the gauzy material of her skirt. “Take ‘em off,” she says.

He says something dumb and cute about it being his pleasure but she can’t scold him for it because as soon as he slips her panties down he starts kissing her pussy and if she thinks about anything but staying upright she will fall into the sand. He lets the stretchy lace fall and puts his hands around her hips, no fabric between them this time, and pushes his tongue into the seam of her body. He finds her clit without any prompting and yes, he’s a good kisser.

“Later,” she gasps, desperate to put her hands in his hair but sure if she lets go of her dress he’ll try to hide in it and get her off. She’s going to get off anyway, she wants to do it with his dorky but perfect cock inside her. “Tomorrow. Tonight, fuck me.”

He groans and asks “How do you want it?” His hands trace up her sides as he stands up. She can feel him touching the fabric at her waist. She’s getting a little dumb and desperate at this point, the party and drinking and all their flirting and the smoothness of him in her hand swirling around in her bloodstream.

She looks around to make sure they’re really alone. Then she pulls her dress the rest of the way over her head and tosses it toward one of the other chairs. Her bra joins it. Shigezane is looking at her like he wants to worship her with his mouth and she knows it’s not a bad idea.

Thinking he’s probably come back from the precipice by then, she takes one of his hands and brings him with her as she stretches out on the only lounger with a cushion. It’s thin, but it’s better than nothing! She’s hoping he’s gonna knock her around a little.

She pulls him like he pulled her for a dance. When he gets on top of her he is  careful with his limbs. He murmurs how gorgeous she is, how he cannot believe he got to even talk to her.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” she tells him, reaching for him again and rubbing him slowly against her clit. He glides from how wet she is. If he does not put his cock in her soon she’s going to run into the ocean. “Now do more than talk.”

From the first amazing press of his body to hers, he really is just right. And when his mouth finds hers, he shows her again that he’s a very good kisser. Sweet as a sugar rimmed drink.

#slbp shigezane #slbp fanfiction #slbp fanfic #modern au #tarralin #tipseu

[heartofsnark]

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

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

Word Count: 10860

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

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

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

Calling. 

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

Calling. 

She presses harder. 

Calling. 

She tries her entire hand.

Calling. 

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

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?” 

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

“What do you mean?” 

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.” 

“Can I get your name and apartment number?” 

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

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

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

“Yep.” 

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

“Work.” 

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

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

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who the hell is this old man? 

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm.” 

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

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

“What?” 

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

“Fine, I guess.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was sort of hoping you had…” 

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?” 

“Its cute.” 

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

“It's a little spider.” 

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

“It is cute!” 

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

“Maybe we’re just passing through?” 

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

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

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

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

“Looks…. Fancy.” 

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

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

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

“What, why?” 

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

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

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

“Not like he needs it!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is everyone?” 

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

“Got it in my bag.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Well-” 

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

“Just black then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understood.” 

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

“Not my thing.” 

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

“I’ll consider that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hearing aids? I already have those.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, I see.” 

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

“I get it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?” 

“How much longer is this place reserved?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You serious, V?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” 

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

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

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

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.” 

“Or you’re being haunted.” 

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.” 

“Hello… “ 

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

“You’re here, mi carina.” 

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

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

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

“What’s up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks…” 

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

“Right….” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say.” 

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

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

“Hey, what’s up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No hearing aids?” 

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign. 

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

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

“Can’t blame him for being excited.” 

“Hmmm and you?” 

“Nervous.” 

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

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

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

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!” 

“Yeah yeah, go on.” 

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

“You actually trying to be nice today?” 

“Something like that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want inside of you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it’s a good look for me.” 

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!" 

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?” 

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

“Why’s that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Afterlife… we’re really here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

“And who might you clowns be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We-” 

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

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

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

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

“Thought Dex was the best?” 

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

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

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

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

“You drinkin’?” 

“Special night, pick me something nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

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

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

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

“To becoming legends.” 

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

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

“All on the menu…”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

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

“Okay, what’s your drink then?” 

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

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

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

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

“Just biz, no big deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Break a leg.” 

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

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

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

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

Nothing as they turn another corner. 

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

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

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

"Este pinche tipo..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Honestly?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not pissed?” 

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

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

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

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

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

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

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

“Anything else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is?”

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

“What’s that?” 

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

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?” 

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

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

“Much appreciated.” 

“Ka-ching baby!~” 

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

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.” 

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.” 

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

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

“And what do we do in the mean time?” 

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

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

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

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

“Send me a postcard?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[katsuflossy]

For the Sake of the Mission

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x reader

TW: obscenities, slight sexual scene, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate

A/n: I’ve decided to change it from 18+ because it really isn’t just please use descretion as there are uncomfortable scenes. Asides from that I’ve gotten this idea from some British show my mom was watching so props to y’all who’ll now the reference. Please enjoy!! (Edited)

The whirring of the vents took advantage of the silence in the room, making up most of the sounds in the metal chamber. It made the air cold, scattering goosebumps on your skin even though around you wore a black sweater. Walls showed no sign festivity, bare of any creative artworks, just reflective of where you currently are. A face devoid of any emotions looked back at you, but even without proper clarity you knew the purpose of the reflection; it wasn’t a giant metaphor to reflect on your mistakes and crimes nor was it supposed to be calming. Its purpose was to make sure you had nothing else left to blame. The only blame was to lay you and your “confessions”.

The interrogation room was like a confessional that didn’t allow you to come back from mistakes.

The contact of soft yet pointed footsteps on the tiles of the floor now dominated the mechanical drone of the vents. Like a sly fox purposefully tapping around its prey as a taunt. Your heart never raced harder before this scenario. Getting caught in the middle of a police raid will definitely pull you into more trouble than you are already in.Your eyes switched from the wall to the ominous black window in front of you. You can’t see them but they can see you. Hell, you don’t even know who is behind that window, gauging your entire reaction at this moment. But that wasn’t what struck your heart in fear.

The footsteps could be heard behind your seated figure. Its dynamic raised louder, practically echoing through the vacuum of a room. You swallowed with much tension as the knob turned, breaking the new presence in the room.

You wondered who it was and prayed it was a low ranking police man. If it was Naomasa, Kenji or any other high ranking officers, your cover would be blown and two sides would place, on your head, a hefty bounty, dead or alive.

Black boots stepped across your vision as you peered on to your own attire, crinkled and worn from the activities you were caught in. The whirring dominated the room again as he laid on the wall, one leg used to support his weight. Your eyes finally connected to his face.

“I spoke at your funeral, you know that right?” You stared blankly into his face. Aizawa wasn’t deterred from your deadpanned face however.

“Imagine making a eulogy for someone you care so much about, believing for 3 months they have died only to have her right in front of you again—” He moved to the chair on his side of the room, “not saying a word to you. Like it has just been a bad dream.”

You kept your tongue on a leash. Your gaze went to the window and back to the hero. He sighed in discontent before placing his hand on the recorder, lifting it up to show the lack of light on the device.

“The recorder is off and there’s no one behind there. So your words stay with me.” You sighed in relief however the situation now seemed more tortuous than what you were fearing.

“I know.” Your voice breaks in soft waves to Aizawa’s ears which croned to get more. After all, he went from listening to you everyday to straight radio silence. There was no explanation or your ‘death’ and disappearance and he had endured the worst. But now he has a chance to find answers.

“I did some little digging,” your head whipped back to his own as he went on, “the most I’ve found was a covert special ops able to infiltrate the League with only two members. One uses death to gain the respect of the league members in order to join their ranks and get a bulk of the information while the other stays on the side of the heroes. I’m assuming the former is you and the latter—“

“How did you get that information! You’re sleuthing around could ruin the whole mis—“

“You were dead.” His words ran echoes through your ears and sent chills down your spine, not in the ways that it used to. In three words his raw emotions shook you to your core and shook your trained mind. It seeped in back the old memories that had been blocked out for the sake of your profession.

“The latter, they’re keeping airtight, I’m assuming only the high members of the Commision have that intel.”

Panic began to whirl around you. If Aizawa had been able to collect such intel on you, others would too. And those ‘others’ are willing to go to any lengths necessary to find that information at the sniff of betrayal. Aizawa sat back and drank in your appearance. Your hair grew in the short but torturous span of 3 months and your skin accepted more battle scars. You should be seen as disheveled, crooked and less attractive but Aizawa thought you were the most beautiful person he’s seen in the past months.

“If you worry about your espionage being revealed, don’t. I used Shinso’s brainwashing quirk to get one of those Commission heads to confess.” Your eyes widened at his honesty.

“Shouta! You can get yourself prosecuted for that!” His eyes glared straight into your own as he scowled further.

“And the same goes for you. How many years do you think you’ll get for faking death and joining Japan’s most notorious villains.” As taken aback you were, you chose to defend yourself.

“It’s my job. You know well if I didn’t obey the Commission’s wishes then I would face even more serious consequences.” You paused your speech, abruptly realising how much anger you had concurred in such a short time with the League, something that should’ve never happened in the first place. You took a deep inhale of air.

“I had to do it for us. I did it for those kids. At the very most, I did it for the citizens of this country.”

His heart and mind were at their final battle. He thought about this reunion nearly everyday and how he would approach you. One route depicted his lashing out at you, the anger bursting through the mask of hurt. On the other route, he pulled you in a tight embrace, hands roaming all over your body to ensure you were in fact real. Now that his manifestations became reality, he couldn’t choose. The concealed pain in your eyes held up a black window like the one on the other side of the room. Only thing was that he was the only one able to see you, the real you.

What did the Commission drag you into? What have you seen?

His heart softened, sending him back to those free late nights, laying on each other watching stand up comedy with a bottle of liquor. You were just bubbly, cracking jokes that rivaled those of the comedian.

His hardened shell finally broke. He let out an airy laugh.

“To think that saving humanity would let us lose the ones we feel human around.” You hummed in dreadful agreement, stripping down a little of your wall as well.

“Indeed, I miss being able to walk outside fearless of any attack from the police or other villains.”

Your words made you sound like a true villain, but he knows you, your way of talking, your body language, your love language.

He leaned back in the chair, letting his back lay against the cold metal as you did the same, making yourselves comfortable as much as you can.

“Tell me. What have you been doing in the last three months?”

You began retelling your life as a spy in the League, how Shirigaki didn’t introduce himself to you until after the first month and the personalities of each villain. You made sure to redact certain information for the fear of roping Aizawa into the same situation they have forced you into, until you blurted out your recent command.

“The last drop off I’ve had they told me I wasn’t close to unfolding the master plans despite leaking various missions that could’ve led to disaster. I had to get close to the members, bond through hobbies, be their entertainer— shit those bastards said to use my womanhood to—“ Aizawa’s eye widened at your slip up, after noticing how careful you were selecting your words. You cleared your throat, heart beating at the speed of light.

“—basically just get buddy buddy with someone.”

“No, that was not what you were going to say. Finish your sentence.”

Your throat was suddenly dry as you tried to swallow down your fear. You took a second in attempting to gather yourself before responding.

“Shouta, I just said they want me to make a friend with one of them—“

“That was not what you were going to say—“

“Well that’s confidential Shouta—“

“I believe I should know when my girlfriend is forced to seduce one of the League’s members.”

You kept your mouth shut, allowing the vents, attempting to blow the tension out of the air, make up for your silence. Shouta stayed still, only moving he exhaled with shaking, tense shoulders, like a volcano ready to erupt.

“Which one is it?” His words came out with a sense of danger, a warning of eruption. You chose to stay silent.

“Shigarki Tomura?” You were silent.

“Dabi?” You were silent.

“Mr. Compress?” Your eyes darted to the side, in an attempt to avoid him from looking into your eyes. But he knew the answer already.

“Fucking shit!” He stood from his seat, a screech emitting through the air before he placed his hands on the table, calming himself down. His anger begged to throw the chair, break the table, punch the walls however he knew the outcome of that route. Many officers would rush in after the commotion before arresting you on sight.

So he breathed, he breathed until the thick humidity of anger evaporated off of his body.

Meanwhile you sat down, guilt gnawing at your heart without hesitation. Your eyes darted to the cameras, one at the corner of the room behind your back and the other on the table, turned off from seeing the look of despair in your eyes.

Your mind went back to the scene before the police raid. Atsuhiro’s hand gently holding your neck as the other laid on your hip. His body firmly pressed against yours, letting you feel the hard bulge on your lower back. He skimmed your ear, calling you a “pretty flower” before zipping down the dress from your back. The dress they bought for you. Just as he was about to kiss you, the police broke down the door of the hideout you were stationed in. Astuhiro escaped and you, along with the little lowlife villains, were the sacrifice.

Your head hung low, shame clouded your thoughts. You couldn’t even look him within the eyes and Shouta saw that. His heart hurt for you like how yours were hurting for him. He slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh. There may be another route he had to choose in order for a better reunion.

“I would’ve never fathom a situation like this. I don’t want you to do this and just the thought of another man touching you makes my blood boil.” You flinched at the harshness in his tone.

“But for the sake of our lives. Do what you need to do.” You snapped your head up to his face, confusion set on your features as he continued.

“It hurts me, like how it hurts you. And judging by your reaction, I know you don’t want to do this also. But if it is my feeling you are trying to protect, don’t, because I know you’ll come back to me at the end of this.”

Within this safe space Aizawa made, you cried. You cried for the first time in the last two months before being a part of the elite League members. The feeling of being human was brought to the forefront of your mind, showing the (Y/n) has known from before. His own eyes stinging from the tears on his waterline.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin to look at your face.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me.” Your cheeks dewy from your tears and your lips red from the blood rushing to your face.

“I will come back to you. I promise.” The corner of his lips lifted up in a bittersweet smile. He let go of your chin to walk towards the door.

“I’ll try to delete that tape from the camera, when I walk down the hall to the right, take the fire escape down the left. Okay?”

“Okay.” Your eyes looked at the camera’s peripheral vision, noticing it didn’t have a view on the front of the door.

In a haste you turned around and ran towards the pro-hero. As soon as he turned around, your fingers entangled in the strands of his hair, pulling down his head to mold your lips with his. A passionate tango of tongues danced within your maw, recollecting the feeling of old times. It wasn’t a goodbye; it was a promise. You both know it.

As your lips parted from his, you wrapped your arms around him, spanning the broadness of his back, and laying your chin on his shoulder. He embraced you with the same tightness. You whispered in his ear.

“For the sake of the mission?”

“For the sake of the mission.”

You released him and stepped back into the door frame, remaking the space you’ve left from three months ago. This time, a sense of hope will pull you through as you complete your mission. And an anchor will keep you grounded to the ones you loved, and not to the villains reaping your empathy.

As he turned to the down the right hall, his eyes met yours before disappearing past the corner. Your training kicked in, both physical and mental, and you ran down the hall to the left.

#aizawa imagine #aizawa shouta imagine #aizawa x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #bnha imagines #bnha aizawa #bnha aizawa x reader #bnha shouta x reader #eraserhead #bnha shouta aizawa #bnha x reader #bnha x poc!reader

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Sorry for disappearing! Real life stuff. You all know the feeling. 

Gonna finish up the battle training arc~ 

[No. 10 - Breaking Bakugou]

(Technically there could be a Breaking Bad-kugou joke here. Just saying.)

Character sheet! I love how Katsuki’s described repeatedly as ‘explosively X’ for each part of him. Especially him being explosively petty. Also, confirmed canon that the skin on his palms is especially thick - likely from the callouses from the blowback of his quirk! Which means he might not necessarily be able to feel things under his palm or even fingers, depending on just how thick those callouses are. 

(Also pfft, Hori telling Katsuki to pull up his pants already.)

In case you’ve forgotten how big the explosion Katsuki just set off was. Man, just look at all the damage, I’m shocked the building didn’t outright collapse. I mean, I guess buildings are a bit sturdier than movies like to show, but still, all those cracks and faultlines, especially on the neighboring buildings… 

Anyways, neither Tenya nor Ochako are prepared for how much the building is rocked by said explosion. Ochako recovers faster and decides to take advantage by tapping her fingers to her palms and then running for the bomb. 

(Also, the bottom of her shoes squish. How is that at ALL practical to run around in???)

Tenya realizes what she’s doing and moves to intercept, while Ochako thinks about how all she needs to do to win is to touch the weapon. She leaps over Tenya, having made herself weightless with that previous palm-tap technique (as Tenya realizes out loud), and then dispells it on herself in order to let gravity take her right towards the prize. She mentions as she falls that that special move takes a lot out of her.

Tenya, however, has the speed to yoink the bomb out of her way before she can grab it, shocking her and distracting her so that she makes a tumbled landing, her helmet bouncing away as she rolls back-first into the wall. Tenya notes that her quirk is no threat so long as she can’t touch anything, and slides back into his ‘villain persona’ as he tells her to keep struggling as he continues to waste her precious time. She grits her teeth as she mumbles that she’s counting on Deku, likely to come through with another distraction for her to get the weapon.

Yes, Katsuki is totally calm and rational right now. Honest to god, why was he given those gauntlets? Also, just noticed that Izuku’s got a layer of clothing/something under his costume, since that is not his bare skin. Seems to be a bit more explosion-resistant as well? Or perhaps that’s just shounen physics at work.

Katsuki taunted Izuku, and Izuku picks himself up while noting how the explosion was directed forward, thus giving him a ranged attack. Which makes sense considering that he can’t direct the energy of his normal explosions from dispersing in all directions equally in normal situations. Izuku puts a hand to his headset, asking after Ochako, and Katsuki calls Izuku out on ignoring him.

Kirishima asks All Might why he’s not stopping the match, saying Katsuki is crazy and looking to kill. All Might, however, thinks otherwise, considering some of Katsuki’s previous statements.

Ahahaha even his tentative complement of Katsuki’s ‘restraint’ is immediately redacted by the ‘just that petty’ comment. Also, All Might can hear everything all the students are saying, headset on or off, while they’re out there in the field. And you want to know something interesting he heard two chapters back?

I have to wonder how much All Might knows about Izuku’s history versus what he keeps to himself… I can’t imagine Izuku would mention the bullying, so this might have been the first he was hearing about it. :)

Anyways, he calls Katsuki out on using that move, noting that massive attacks like that being used indoors could easily bring the stronghold down around them, and that it’s a bad move for both heroes and villains, as well as a good way of losing points. All Might then thinks about how he should be stopping the match as a teacher, but…

(All Might knows it's the responsible thing as a teacher to stop the match immediately, but he also knows that his successor NEEDS to be able to prove himself as an equal to someone who looked down on him and bullied him before now, especially with Izuku so determined to not lose to Katsuki for once. It was a quiet kind of passion, one he hasn't heard from Izuku before, and he can't take that chance away too quickly, even if he wants to intervene and knows he should be.

And yes, I know his reasoning for his hesitation is more directly mentioned in a bit, but it’s a good place to remind people who seem to think he was thoughtlessly irresponsible here that he knew damn well what he was doing, and that it was for Izuku’s sake that he held back from ending the match early.)

Katsuki complains about the chastisement, while Izuku confirms Ochako’s location in the bomb room and starts trying to plan again. Katsuki leaps forward at Izuku with renewed intent to beat him into the ground, startling Izuku as he realizes he has no way to dodge, only counter-

Katsuki learns FAST from his mistakes in battle, and it shows. 

(Also, just realized there wasn’t an underlayer for Izuku’s costume, it was just that scrap of sleeve looking weird in that image. My bad!)

Shouto explains what just happened - Katsuki feinted with his first explosion while using it to leap around back, and then used a double explosion to maximize the force behind the blow to Izuku without being thrown back out the hole he made earlier. Yaoyorozu notes that while Katsuki doesn’t seem like a thinker, his battle strategy is fairly intricate, while Kaminari gripes about how good he is.

While Izuku is recovering from that attack, Katsuki sweeps in with an announced reight hook, Izuku barely having time to turn to look before he gets fucking clocked in the side by Katsuki’s gauntleted arm. He then grabs Izuku’s right arm, spins him around using a series of small explosions to build momentum, and then bodily slams Izuku down into the ground while saying Izuku is nothing compared to him. 

Izuku realizes Katsuki’s giving him no time to think, and that he’s just to strong, so he has to use ‘it’, aka One For All. The class is in shock, one saying that his actions are torture and that he could have ended it with the capture tape already, while another notes that it’s not very hero-like, and a third that they thought Izuku was good, but that Katsuki’s battle sense is unbeatable, and that he’s all instinct.

‘A part of him seems calm’ my fucking ass. 

Izuku surries away in a panic while Katsuki looms after him. Ashido comments on him running, while Kirishima says that it’s not manly, but Izuku doesn’t have a choice, even if the situation is odd (i.e. probably noting that Izuku hasn’t used his quirk yet, even though he knows how strong said quirk is since he was in the same arena as Izuku.) Izuku slams against a wall, bracing himself for Katsuki’s next move.

Katsuki demands to know why Izuku won’t use his quirk, and whether Izuku is mocking him, like he always has since they were kids. Izuku says Katsuki’s wrong, but Katsuki barrels on, saying how he knows Izuku is looking down on him. All Might thinks more about stopping them, but that he can’t take this from Izuku. Izuku says that it’s because Katsuki’s awesome that he wants to beat him.

The two of them are yelling at each other now (very shounen moment), Izuku about how he wants to win and beat Katsuki, while Katsuki tells Izuku to stop ‘looking at him like that’. All Might is in the middle panel between them, thinking about how he hasn’t seen izuku this pumped since the ‘I wanna be a hero’ thing. The class is looking on, someone noting how confident Katsuki is. All Might continues to think as the two boys move in for their respective attacks, noting that this battle is necessary for Izuku’s future. 

Izuku’s right arm crackles with the power of One For All as he begins to shout out his smash, while Katsuki’s prepping an explosion in his right hand. Kirishima shouts how bad this is and is almost begging All Might to stop this, and All Might is shaking with nerves as he holds back. He is just in the middle of telling the two to stop when Izuku shouts at Ochako, startling All Might into stopping. Ochako grabs the pillar, Tenya is confused, and Izuku watches Katsuki while he thinks about how he can’t measure up in a one-on-one fight, but.

Seriously, how did this building not collapse at all during this exercise???

Anyways, Ochako swings the pillar around, slamming all the other debris blown upwards towards Tenya in a ‘Comet Home Run’. Tenya says it’s no home run (which I imagine has to be in the exact same tone as ‘that’s no moon’) while shielding himself from said debris, which means he misses Ochako taking another flying leap towards the bomb until it’s too late.

Meanwhile, down below, Katsuki is looking at the damage done in absolute shock, like, he’s absolutely SHAKING as he repeats his belief that Izuku’s been mocking him from the start. 

Izuku’s right arm is in ragged disrepair, and his left he used to block Katsuki’s explosion is not exactly in better shape. He’s quivering as well from the shock and pain as he tells Katsuki that he didn’t want to use his power because he can’t - the blowback messes him up too much. It’s like Aizawa-sensei said, but it was all he could do at that point to win. 

This is really just a fantastic way to end the chapter. All Might’s hesitation as what just happened sinks in before he announces the win, Izuku finally collapsing unconscious as his body gives out on him, and Katsuki’s worldview thoroughly shaken as what just happened sinks in for him as well. Like, look at that, that is SUCH a mess of emotions he’s experiencing.

What a roller coaster of emotions. What a good character growth moment for everyone. 

I suppose next chapter, then, is the fallout and some stuff from the other kids in 1a. Hopefully that will go up this weekend!

#readthrough #chapter 10 #opening arcs #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #yagi toshinori #uraraka ochako #Iida Tenya #katsuki.exe has stopped working #please reboot your system and try again #the next blow to katsuki's flawed and sheltered belief system #which he really needed here and now #in order to have the character growth he needed for later events

[jamiedc-they-them]

Sibling Duty (Platonic)

Daisy Johnson x female reader imagine where Reader was on the team before Daisy showed up and the two instantly felt a connection upon meeting, so in season 2 when Ward takes Skye to see her father, Cal tells her about her older sister and shows her a picture of Reader?

TW - Mentions of abuse and rape

Skye could not speak. She only looked at her father, at the news he told her. She was expecting anything but that. This had then led to the room being silent. Cal looked between the two of you with slight hurt in his eyes; that hurt then gave way to rage.

“Oh, you didn’t know.” He said, bitterly.

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You had jointed SHIELD as soon as you could. You wanted nothing more than to do some good in this world. So, that was had led you to doing what you had to make it through to being an actual agent.

A shaky upbringing at numerous homes never really taught you how to live. Never taught you how to have connections with people. To you, those connections would just cease to exist soon, anyway. So, if that was the way it was always going to go, why bother trying to carve them in the first place?

Phil Coulson had been someone that had you on his mind when he was told to create a team that could be sent around the world where needed for SHIELD.

So, after getting himself a pair of science best friends who stuck together through thick and thin. He then sighted you out. However, you were not with anyone in the cafeteria; in fact, you weren’t anywhere that held anyone else.

It was odd, as this was normally were, he could find anyone he needed to find for any reason.

Finally, he looked up your living place. Once he did, he went to find it.

It was quiet; but once he knocked, he heard shuffling. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why it had been so quiet inside the room.

You opened the door, revealing to the man a version of you that was slightly tired. You immediately tried to sober up when you saw who it was, however.

“Agent Coulson, sir. What brings you here?” You asked, trying to put on a friendly voice. Your slight shift you are in your eyes from side to side, however, showed you nervousness at doing this wrong.

“Y/N, I’m here to talk to you about a team I’m putting together.” You cocked your head to the side as you fully took his words.

He was putting a team together….and he wanted…you?

“Can I ask why me, sir?” you asked, “Not that I’m not grateful,” You said as you caught yourself, “Just….I’m not exactly the best when it comes to teams….or friends…or –”

“Yeah, I did hear about the fight in the cafeteria last week. Despite it being a fight, I do have to commend you on sticking up for the guy.” He complimented you. You shrugged, trying to play it off that it is nothing and that the compliment wasn’t necessary.

He just watched you closer. He had only read what was available of your past; they found you on the streets. More importantly, he had. So, he had always watched over you in any way he could.

“Yeah, well, guys were being assholes. SHIELD let those guys in, so I stood up for what SHIELD is; for anyone that wants to try and to right be a world that does nothing but wrong them.” He narrowed his eyes a little at your pessimism.

He knew that your past would have jaded you. In a way, it was kind of refreshing to have someone speak their mind and not flash the normal happy-go-lucky. This would not be a happy life once it got going.

But he then saw the thing you were not doing. The part you were not saying. He finally got the reason you shrugged the compliment off.

“You did good, standing up for them.” He said again, to make sure.

“Kid needed someone. Didn’t want him to end up like me.” You sighed, awkwardly looking away as you said those words.

“You know caring isn’t a sin, right?”  You only scoffed at his words. It did hurt a little that it was your reaction, but he only waited for your next words.

“Is that what this is really about? Because you care?” Ok, that one hurt. But he styled it through.

“Part,” He admitted, “But, you’re a good agent, Y/N. I could use your skills.” He said, trying to get you on board. He meant both parts, but he could tell the second would probably speak to you more.

“Ok.” You said.

 You were going to live on a plane; granted, not the worse place you had lived in, but could’ve been worse. Still, you boarded.

“Wanted to get you here first, get you settled in and get you ready for the new arrivals.” Coulson said, you thought about his words before you only nodded.  

Your room was in the middle, you looked at Coulson; the man looked back at you with a teasing smile, but a look that held faux innocence to it.

You knew what he was doing, and you only rolled your eyes at his antics.

You looked up to the man (don’t tell him) but, you were always wondering how could have these moments that rendered him to a child.

 You met Ward, he seemed to hate talking to people as much as you did, so it was good fit. Fitzsimmons, however, were a different beast altogether.

It was not the best talk, but they seemed to accommodate for your apparent shyness and introduced themselves before letting you go on your way.

 Soon after, you were brought into the briefing room. A room that held a girl you had never seen before. Fuck, new people.

“Y/N, this is Skye. She’s helping us track down Mr Peterson –” He started to introduce, when Skye spoke up.

“Mike.” She argued, firmly. You looked between the two, seemed she knew him well. However, like always, seemed that it had gotten them into trouble.

Still, you couldn’t help but draw parallels between yourself and the girl. Granted, your move was in a cafeteria defending a genuinely hideous even that happened within SHIELD. She seemed to be helping a powered person who had caused damage.

Still, the parallel was there, whether or not you liked it or not.

 The mission had gone alright, the team had somewhat come together in its own way. You were with Ward, ready to take a different shot through your own sniper just in case.

Well, for once, the tale had a happy ending, he was alive and was going to go back with his child at some point. You couldn’t help but feel some genuine happiness for the man.

“You said it was five, not including me. Now there’s six, not including me?” You asked Coulson as you sat with him in his office. He was the one who told you that Skye was joining the team as support as a hacker.

“I get that, Y/N. But, she’s useful.”

“And I understand that, sir. It’s just….” You drifted, not sure how to word it.

“Just what, Y/N?” Coulson was patient with you; you had noticed that whenever he spoke to you. But, in this moment, you were thankful for it.

“Just expected five was all sir.” Your voice was quieter now. You both knew there was more to it than that, but that was all you were willing to talk about.

Coulson, for now, decided to go with it,” I understand that, Y/N. But, she’s new to all this. I’m not making you her SO, that’s Ward. But…if she needs help, can you help her, please?” He asked, voice going into commander mode. But you still heard the softness of it.

“Just help her with the ropes?” He nodded at your question, “Ok, I can try and do that.”

Coulson smiled, that was all he wanted.

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Fitzsimmons were odd, to you anyway. No, it wasn’t because they were scientists, not because they spoke over each other (well, kind of). No, what you didn’t get was how close they were. Now, it wasn’t because they weren’t “together” in that way (you always rolled your eyes at that bullshit, anyway).

To you, it was just the way they seemed to never waver in their trust and loyalty to the other. The way they trusted each other with everything they had. The way they worked in sync.

You just…you didn’t get it.

“They should totally be dating, right?” Skye asked as she saw you staring. As of now, Ward had kind of gotten into the role as the SO quite quickly. But she rarely needed to come to you for help; so, as of this moment, you had been keeping your distance.

Ward, respecting your feelings towards interaction, spoke up for you, “Skye, leave her –”

“No, it’s not that,” That got both of their attention as you spoke to her for the first time out of her asking a question about SHIELD or the ropes. So far, it had been professional answers form yourself. Now, she may have been getting somewhere. Ward rolled his eyes at the sight of her crossed fingers behind her back, “Just, I’ve never seen it before.”

“People be close before?” Skye asked, uncrossing her fingers and walking towards you. She did not know why, but she felt a pull to get to know you better. She knew it was platonic, just like her bond with everyone other than Ward. Ward was…different.

Either, she felt compelled to know what you were getting at. She had done a tiny bit of snooping, only to find some details about that had not been redacted. And, she had found you had been found on the streets to, just like her.

So, that was what made her want to get to know you, for now; to have someone who may have had similar experience to her would help the adaptation to all this.

“Normally never ends well when they are.” Ward looked at you with a bit of pity, or apologetic eyes at not having stopped her. But Skye looked at you with wide eyes.

“I mean, I’d agree. But, every so often, you get lucky.” She seemed to want to push the conversation, to continue talking with you and seeing your view on things. But you let out a sigh and started walking away.

“Trust me kid, I doubt those people you saw were together for much longer.” She hated being called kid.

“Experience of SHIELD?” She said, trying to sound light-hearted; but the worry came through that she may have gone too far this time and accidentally pushed you away.

As you rose up the stairs, you leant against the railing at the top, looking down at her as you answered with an unusual sight on your face, “That and life.” You said, vaguely.

“Why the kid, though?” She had to ask. The sight on your face grew.

“You’re the youngest.”

“And you’re the oldest?” She guessed.

“Would’ve been youngest if it was the normal crew. But now you get that name.” As you said that, you gave a mock salute and walked away.

Skye wasn’t really hurt by the first part of your words; as, in this moment, she knew you meant them in a playful manner. She did, however, turn to Ward with a confused look on her face,” Isn’t that, like, the first time we’ve seen her smile?”

Ward couldn’t help but nod. There were hints of smiles from time to time at certain jokes or just in general. But this was the first actual, fully fledged smile on your face.

“I think it might just be.” He said, before he then turned serious again, “Ok, back to it.” Skye only groaned as she obliged him.

 Then came the party. Skye had managed to grab a party invite. However, during the briefing on it, Skye met your eyes and gestured to her phone; “Want one?” she silently asked you.

You closed your eyes, knowing that this would probably not end well. But you still nodded anyway. She gave you a smile at your answer and began typing away again.

When you looked back, you saw Coulson looked between you both; it wasn’t with a disappointed look; if anything, he looked kind of proud that you were starting to get along.

 “Hey,” Skye greeted as she stood by your bunk door. You looked up, seeing her holding two dresses up. You had picked yours already, a dark blue one. She held a red one and a pink one, “Can you help me, please?”

You nodded, and she entered your bunk. She took the time to look around your bunk; her’s held some items that held value to herself; yours held nothing bar the things you needed.

“Pink or red?” You asked, already knowing the question she was going to ask. She nodded as she held the dresses up again; you took your time to look from one to the other. It was a moment before you looked at her with your answer, “Pink will be good for this op.” You said, she gave you a small smile as she lowered the dresses.

“Thank you.” She said, before looking at your chosen outfit, “I like that dress.” She said, gesturing to it as if you wouldn’t know.

“Oh, thanks. Got one when I was younger from one of my foster mums.” You told her, before you caught yourself.

“What happened to it?” You knew she wanted to ask what had happened to the mother; and that she was just covering it with this question.

You closed your eyes as you tensed at giving the answer, “She – She, uh, she died. The dad wasn’t good, like at all. But she tried.” You gulped for a moment, having never told anyone that story before.

“I’m so sorry that that happened to you.” She said, having gone through something similar herself in the countless homes she had been moved to.

“Yeah well, helped me not get my hopes up for any of that bullshit. So, you know.”

 “Oh, look at you both, you look amazing!” Jemma said in her chirpy tone. She seemed to never have a down moment or bad bone in her body. Fitz nodded along with his friend.

“You both look great, I’m glad you went with the pink Skye, I knew –”

“Y/N would pick it for you. Oh, it looks so good.” She cheered after finishing Fitz’s sentence and pulling out her phone, “Photo?” She asked, looking at you with wide, nervous, and innocent eyes.

You looked to Skye, who was just waiting for your answer. What was odd to you, however, was that she didn’t seem to mind whatever it was. She seemed to accept it and be willing to go with it.

“Uh, sure.” You said, a little hesitantly as Skye moved to stand next to you. She seemed to know that physical contact would be a no go; she understood that and respected the boundaries. She saw, however, in your eyes, that you did appreciate it. She just gave you a small smile that grew as you let one out for the camera.

 The party was filled with a lot of older people. Despite being the younger one, Skye seemed to be better at handling the situation. She grabbed a glass for herself and then one for you as well, “Help with your nerves. Definitely going to help with mine.” She said, bluntly but honestly, as she drank from hers.

You, however, just downed your own drink in one. Judging by your face, you regretted it.

Skye’s eyes widened as she watched you do said action; however, she then let out a laugh at your face. You, however, smiled at the laugh and let one out of your own.

“Stop it.” You said, blushing a little; her laugh grew at your slight embarrassment.

“Sorry.” She said as she tried to catch her breath, “Sorry,” She said more genuinely, “Just, your face.” She said as she fully calmed herself down and you both got back to work.

You had fully entered the party now and had been confronted by a man who spoke a language you only part of. Skye quickly passed the interpreters apology off and introduced you both, “I’m Skye, and this is my sister, Y/N.” She said, using that as your cover.

You just let her talk for you both as you looked for your target, Ian Quinn. You found him, but Skye was the one to report it back, talking about eagles and nests.

“What are you doing?” Simmons asked and you gave Skye a look.

“We might be a spy organisation, but we lost those terms a while ago.” You told her with a smile, she laugher as she nodded.

“Alright, I’ll go talk to him. You good here?” She asked, putting a hand on your arm.

“I’ll be fine. You just watch yourself, alright? Remember what Ward taught you?” You said, sounding like you meant those words. Skye had thrown you into the same category of May; someone who might not have shown it, but you both cared.

“Of course.” She told you, softly.

 She nearly, wasn’t. She was soaked when she met up with you, but she was alive. That was the main thing that mattered.

“Are you ok?” You asked her, concern being the dominant emotion. You had just met up with her and put a hand on her arm as Ward opened the door to the vehicle.

“Yeah, fine.” She answered, giving you an assuring smile.

 There was one time, however, where she wasn’t ok. In fact, neither of you were.

 You had followed her to get Quinn, arguing that going in alone would’ve been suicide. So, you kept watch on for her as you both moved through the house.

“Ready?” She now asked you, you nodded as you both entered the room. You saw Mike in the pod. You both froze as you both uttered his name in sync.

In sync, you were both jumped; Skye being pinned against the pod, while you got a pistol pointed at your chin.

“Easy, girls. Easy.” Quinn said as he put on the idea that he didn’t want to hurt you both. You saw through it; you were just waiting for a moment to stop him.

He looked at you as he passed you, talking about how sloppy you both were. He then got Mike up and gave him a leg to stand on. Asking the man if he would either hurt you or him, Mike denied that. Calming that it wasn’t his orders.

As the guard aiming at you started to drag you away, Skye followed; she called after both you and Mike. However, a shot went off as she asked what was going to happen to you both.

That shot awoke something in you. You through your head back, connecting with the guard as you then snapped his neck. As you went for Quinn, you were stopped.

By another shot going off. Skye managed to turn to you as she finally had allowed herself to realise, she had been shot. She saw you, shock on your face as you touched your fresh wound. Quinn let you drop to the floor, but he caught Skye and fired another shot.

“I have my orders too.” Where the only words you heard as he came over and knelt down next to you, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you just couldn’t leave your friend behind, could you?” He asked, before sighing, hitting you in the head; and leaving.

“Y/N…?” Skye asked, painfully as she managed to turn herself. She saw you were motionless, “Y/N?” She croaked out. Pain was hitting her like a truck, but also determination and fear. She was the only one awake, so she had to make this count.

She didn’t want you to die. But she also didn’t want her friend to die too because of her mistake.

 Fitz found Jemma trying to find something. He didn’t know what, he didn’t care what. He just knew that Jemma was trying to keep it together. He knew what she needed in that moment, comfort.

He pulled her into a hug, letting her finally cry and let it all out. They had got Skye into a pod, but you were pulled back to base and she was able to stop your bleeding. You were pale, but you would make it. You had lost less blood then Skye and were semi-conscious.

“We almost lost them, Fitz.” She confessed to her best friend. Fitz nodded, stroking her hair to try and provide some comfort.

“But, we haven’t.” He said, voice quivering as he knew those words weren’t entirely right.

“Right, you’re right. We need to stay positive.” She said, sniffling and wiping her tears away as she tried to compose herself.

You were both alive, that was what mattered in this moment.

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When you heard the news that Skye wouldn’t make it, you were out the room. Granted, May had left to find you and to help you get to the room, but the idea was there. Plus, May didn’t stop you, she let you get to the room easier and then unlocked it for you.

She knew the two of you needed this moment of kicking someone’s ass for hurting Skye. So, she let you go to town as she tried to stall Coulson. She failed but understood your pain and rage. Ok, more than he let on. He’d read more of the files after you had joined the team; and found the pain you carried. It was more than multiple families; it was the abuse and loss you had to go through on your own unfortunately.

You didn’t have a last name; hell, you barely had a first one. You just picked one. He respected that. But, after meeting Skye and seeing her reasons for wanting in, he saw why Skye looked up to you and wanted to befriend you so badly.

He knew she saw someone who could maybe help her through the pain she felt and was carrying with her.

Now, it seemed that she had succeeded in that. Even if the thought obviously terrified you.

 You were on a mission when you all went to get the serum to save her. You were in animal instinct mode, a protective and vengeful mode. He knew that, on any other op, you’d be in serious shit for some of the things you did. And, in some cases, maybe you did go overboard with the amount of times you shot some people or shoved your fingers in their wounds to try and find answers.

Yes, there was that one guard he didn’t let you touch; but, the others, he could look past for now. If the man wasn’t who he was, maybe he’d have gone down that path as well. The thought of that scared him.

Next came what Ward had done to you all; he was a traitor. Skye had been kidnapped by him. Even if it was for a short time, Coulson saw the fear you felt and the way you seemed to watch Fitzsimmons more on their interactions. The way they seemed so at ease around each other and leant on each other during this time.

You, unfortunately, didn’t have that right now. So, as you normally did, you kept it to yourself and tried to deal with it your own way. Mainly through putting it into anger.

You went with him to get Skye out of the BUS; you fired wildly to cover your exit and got in the car with haste and continued to fire at Mike to make sure he couldn’t get to you.

You and Coulson both grabbed her hand to pull her back in. The three of you all looked at the man who asked for money for parking with the same expression, “Really?”

 “Thanks for getting me out.” Skye told you as you both sat outside the motel you were hiding out at for the time being until you came up with a plan to strike back with. She passed you a beer as she sat next to you; you took it grateful and took a swig as you answered.

“Course,” You cleared your throat as you tried to make yourself fully get the words out; Skye just watched you with a patient look, “We’re, uh,” She put a hand on yours to show some solidarity with you; to show that you could take your time in finding the words, “We’re friends. It’s what we do.” You smiled, but it was a nervous one.

Skye felt tears sting her eyes as she fully processed the words. She had considered you a friend for a while now, but this was a big step in that dynamic. Now you had admitted it, and you couldn’t take it back.

By the look on your face, you didn’t want to take it back.

Your eyes drifted to Fitzsimmons, Skye following it. You both watched as the pair of best friends sat by the pool and played with the water a little as they spoke.

“Hell, of a day.” You said, letting out a laugh that turned into a kind of sob. You covered your mouth, but Skye heard it. In fact, the others had too.

Skye moved her chair, the thing scrapping against the floor as she sat next to you and pulled you into a hug. She didn’t move, she only held you close as you put your arms around her arm and let out more sobs.

“I’ve got you.” She told you. She told you everything apart from the second part to that phrase, that it was all going to be ok. She knew it wouldn’t.

She had only been a SHIELD agent for a day or two, tops. But that had been snatched right out form under her. This had been your life, and now it was fully gone. Burned to the ground, like all the other things that had been in your life.

She just held you, making a silent promise to make sure that this team stayed consistently in your life for as long as it could. As, she knew how easily it would be to slip back into your old habits.

But, part of her knew now you were trying; you had called them friends after all.

 For a while, you were great friends, pretty much shaping into best friends after all the HYDRA things. SHIELD was slowly fighting back and finding its footing once again.

One thing that had come of it was Simmons leaving for an assignment. You knew it was important and all; but the way she left things with Fitz had left him with more pieces to try and pick up than he knew how to deal with.

So, you found in the lab late one night and entered it, “Oh, hi Y/N.” He said to you, smiling a little. He struggled with the words, with faux Simmons helping him. She tried to encourage him to talk to you.

“It’s Y/N, Fitz. She’s our friend, remember?” She asked.

“Yes, I remember.” He snapped; to you, it was no on, but you just gave him the time he needed to adjust to your presence.

You got the others’ point that he was different. But you loved him all the same. He was your friend, to the day you died.

“Hey, Fitz.” You told him kindly, “How you are doing, buddy?” You asked.

“F-Fine. I, uh, why are you here?” He asked, not meaning to sound rude.

“Fitz!” Jemma said, admonishing him for his words.

“Sorry, sorry.” He said, turning from you to the other person he was talking too. Again, you only waited until he looked to you.

“It’s ok, Fitz. This probably isn’t my field anyway. I was gonna see if you needed anything. But you seem to have it handled.” You said as you looked over the plans.

“Anyway, I have to shoot. Just wanted to check in on you.” You said, with that, you left.

 The rest of the time had been a rush, so that moment was moment of peace. What came after that was chaos, you had been tracking carvings that Coulson had been making; with Skye and you helping where you could.

However, he then revealed to you both that you had alien blood inside of you and that you had to keep it a secret. That you both might just be aliens.

“What the fuck?” You asked, just getting tired of the odds against you both being stacked.

 That led to Ward finding you both and threatening to burry the plane unless you both followed him, “What do you want with her?” Skye asked, defensively.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” Ward said, not wanting to give the secret away just yet.

“Bullshit, like I’d go anywhere with you.” You spat, aiming the gun at someone who was once your friend.

“Wait,” Skye said, lowering her gun, “I’ll go.” She offered, lowering your weapon too.

“And Y/N.” Ward said, firmly.

“Just me. You leave her out of this, Ward.” She bargained.

“Sorry, Skye. But, Y/N comes, or your little act is for nothing.” At Ward’s words, Skye looked to you. She looked at you pleadingly, but also with a promise: I won’t let anything happen to you.

At her silent promise, you found yourself nodding. Despite every other instinct screaming at you to not. You found yourself going with it; you trusted your best friend.

 That led to the man you had all been looking out for being in front of you both. Skye stood in front of you a little, trying to keep you out of his sight. However, height made that impossible.

“Look at that. The way you tilt your head, it’s just like….is it nature, or nurture?” He asked; he then looked at you, “Oh, and the way you hold yourself as well. My god, you’re almost a mirror image of her.” You didn’t know who her was, but you didn’t like where this was going.

“Trauma taught me otherwise.” You meant SHIELD. But life had really taught you to hold yourself I this cautious manner.

“Oh, my sweet girl. I’m sorry you had to go through all that alone.” Ok, now you really didn’t like it. Skye reached down to grab your shaking hand in her own. She gave it a supportive squeeze, but her eyes still filled with tears as she too realised what he was trying to say.

“I promise myself I wouldn’t get emotional. It’s just, I’ve waited so long for this moment. Let’s try again.” He said, finally composing himself and walking towards you a little, “Hi…. I’m Cal, I’m your father.”

Skye couldn’t speak. She only looked at her father, at the news he told her. She was expecting anything but that. This had then led to the room being silent. Cal looked between the two of you with slight hurt in his eyes; that hurt then gave way to rage.

“Oh, you didn’t know.” He said, bitterly.

“I – what? – How – No…” You were lost, but your family watched you with concern as you backed away.

“Sweetheart –” Your father tried to say to stop you from losing control; Skye even reached out for you, but you slapped the hand away as if it were poison.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” It wasn’t a growl, it was soft; soft, but damaged; hurt. Skye held the hand you slapped and recoiled a little from you. Her older sister.

“Honey –” Father dearest tried to say again.

“No!” You roared, pointing a finger at him, “You left me! I had to be on my own for so fucking long! I had to be hit, sent back, abandoned, nearly raped countless times before I got someone’s fucking attention! SHIELD picked me up –”

“They stole you!” Your father countered with, before he calmed himself as he saw the state you were in, “I never wanted that for you. You were so happy when you met your sister. I’m so sorry you had that taken from you.”

“I – I can’t do this.” You said, going for the door; Skye let you go as she looked at your father to stop him from going after you.

As you left the room, Ward gave you a questioning look, “You either shoot me or let me go.” He did the latter.

 You and Skye hadn’t brought it up, but everyone noticed your distance from each other. The way you both tried to not talk about something.

That gave Fitzsimmons an idea, “I’m sorry I left.” She said, meaning the words to her friend, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of. I know you’re different now. But…. I do care about you Fitz.” She said, hoping he believed them.

He nodded, maybe not fully believing them; but it was a start.

You just happened to be watching as this happened, you watched as they tried to move on. As they tried to heal the wound and be better than they were before.

 You loaded your weapon, ready to go and stop HYDRA in their plan. As you did, you saw your sister trying to not to look at you or be hurt by your distance that had been caused by the reveal. You knew she had been wanting a family for ages now.

You thought back to Coulson when the doctor told you all to find Skye’s family. It was a simple declaration, “We’re her family.”

They all were to her, but you were by blood. So, no point beating round the push. You couldn’t hide from it. You couldn’t hide anymore from the sisterly bond you two pretty much had before the reveal.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you cared for all these people. But Skye was the one you opened yourself up to that idea of caring for first.

“Hey.” You said as you approached. She jumped a little at your words, but eyes widened as she looked at you.

“Hey.” She parroted back to you.

You gave a her a smile, “You missed one.” Holding up the bullet she hadn’t loaded.

“Oh, thanks.” She said a little sheepishly as she loaded it into the weapon and holstered it.

The next moment you wrapped her in a hug, a tight one, “I’m sorry I pushed you away.” You said as you ran a hand through her hair as you felt her tighten the hug. You closed your eyes, savouring this moment between your sisters.

This was the moment you both truly cemented your bond and embraced it. And, it felt good, to finally let yourself admit you had some steady ground with this family. But now you had some family with you now. One you knew wouldn’t abandon you.

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 That led to a confrontation with Raina, that led to Trip sadly passing as he tried to save you both. It led to you both being almost ostracized from the others and being treated as freaks as you both struggled to come to terms with this new version of yourselves.

For Skye, it was vibrations; for you, it was like darkness personified. Kind of fitting and all from a certain, morbid, point of view. You had a lot to draw off of, unfortunately.

Skye woke once, seeing you leaning against the glass wall that separated you both. She could only see your back, but she could guess you had an impassive look on your side.

She moved herself to the glass, sliding down it until she was pretty much mimicking your pose.

“How are you?” She asked, trying to distract herself from the thought of one of her other best friends turning into nothing while trying to save both of you for an idiotic move.

“Fucking tired and angry. You?” You asked, voice croaking; it had been a while since you’d slept.

“Guilty.” She confided; you listened as she talked about Trip and how she saw him whenever she closed her eyes.

“Hey,” She turned her head slightly as she listened to you, “We’re going to get through this.” You said with mostly faux optimism. But Skye liked to believe them as true.

“Thanks.” She said.

“Of course.” You brushed off her thanks and closed your eyes, heading resting against the glass. Skye rested her own head back, finding comfort in your presence opposite her.

 It led to you talking more in your isolation from your friends. To you both being moved to a hut in the wild to be hidden away as if you were a pet project gone wrong. That only led to you both learning more about your gifts as you both bonded further and further.

When SHIELD came for you, you ran together. Your ability allowed you to sense threats in the dark, you called them out as you and your sister both took them down.

However, when Bobbi called out your name, all Skye saw was a bullet coming towards you; she lifted her hands and sent the bullet back, but also everyone else.

You both ran away, with Gordan picking you both up and teleporting you both away. There, you met a woman called Jiaying who gave you both a welcoming look to this place and gave you both mentors to help control your powers.

However, during your spare time, you and your sister met up to talk about your training, she even told you about a boy she definitely did not have a crush on. His name was Lincoln, and he was welcoming to you too. While you gave him the whole older sister talk (as if you’d given it before and had been for a while), he was honest with his intensions and understood what would happen if he hurt her.

Skye watched with a teasing smile, but it softened near the end as she heard the conviction in your voice as to what you would do if he hurt her. It made her feel safe, love, protected.

Then, it all came crashing down when SHIELD attacked you and your sister and shot your mother. The rage you felt came out against one of the agents; as Daisy quaked one away, she then quaked a bullet that had been fired at you back at the guard. However, another bullet hit your leg.

“Y/N!” She yelled as she ran to you, swinging your arm over her shoulder, “Come on, Y/nn, lean into me. Don’t you dare die on me.” She begged as she felt you stumble a little, sending you both nearly to the ground.

“Wouldn’t dream on it, kiddo.” You promised as Skye pulled you into the room with your mother. She instantly sat up and helped you sit at the table.

“My daughter, what happened?” She asked as she put a hand to your cheek.

“One of the agents…I’m sorry, mum.” Daisy apologised.

Jiaying turned to her other daughter with soft eyes, “Oh, my sweet girl, you have nothing to apologise for.” She promised her as she helped you heal.

 As you both found out later, your mother had shot herself and planned for “SHIELD” to attack. So, now you were fucked; you were locked in separate cells and Jiaying was going to kill anyone who wasn’t inhuman.

You thought it was over, until your sister burst into your holding room and quaked the door open. She instantly enveloped you in a hug, “I thought I lost you.” She mumbled into your chest. You only held her tighter.

“Not yet, kiddo. Not for as long as I can help it.” You said as you kissed her hair and pulled her out of the room.

 You both faced your mother together. You both ended up getting your asses kicked by the clones, only for your friends to come in and save the day.

Then it came to the next problem, who took care of Jiaying.

“No – “You started to say.

“Y/N, I can do this.” Daisy argued.

“I said, no!” You yelled, your sisterly instinct kicking in.

“I can’t lose you, Daisy.”

“And I can’t lose you,” She grabbed your arms, “Look, I can take care of myself. You and May have taught me how to. I’ll be careful, promise.” You did not like it. But you nodded and pushed her before you changed your mind.

You trusted in your sister.

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 You knocked on Daisy’s door, she opened it and smiled at you on the other side. You held up two DVDs, “Which one you want?” You asked, gesturing between them.

Skye looked between them, before you and giving her answer, “That one.” She said, pointing to her selection. With that, you entered the room and flung yourself onto the bed; Daisy laughed as she grabbed her DVD of choice and put it into her laptop. You both snuggled under the cover as she hit play.

She rested her head on your shoulder as you both watched the film, “You hear Fitz finally asked Simmons out?” She asked.

“Really?” She nodded, “Good for him.” You said.

 Everything was good. Both dynamics had been restored and shifted in a good way. For Fitzsimmons, it was coming to the realisation that they felt about each other in a different manner than they thought. For you and Daisy, it was finding a sisterly bond.

 To be honest, you would not have it any other way.

#daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson imagine #agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield x reader #sibling duty

[tracynotabi]

Riptide Day 2 / Undertow

September 11, 2021

D-Day.

Kevin, Ivan, Joey, and I were getting a ride from Spencer, who was also taking Narq to the venue, while Robert and Parker got a ride from someone else. Well, at least we didn’t have to walk to the venue. I didn’t pack sunscreen.

At 9am, about half an hour we were supposed to leave, Kevin gets a stomachache.

Me: He just needs to poop. Spencer: The classic.

We end up going to the lobby to wait for Spencer in Narq, which was fine considering we actually didn’t want Spencer, our ride, waiting for us.

Spencer: Okay, Narq’s just using the bathroom rq lol Me: Is he also having tummy problems Spencer: Nah just bein stoner and forgetting to do stuff lol Me: The classic

We go get Chick-fil-A and I’m sitting underneath the dashboard again by Kevin’s feet. I think the employees were very bewildered, as the woman on the other side of the window did a double take. I would, too, if I saw a smaller-than-average person just hiding underneath the dashboard sipping on a cup of Coke.

Some time after I get to the venue during doubles, I end up talking to Jimmy (j u m), when Kevin comes rushing over to me, a panicked look on his face.

Forgot to mention, but Kevin actually couldn’t get all of his poop out before coming to the venue and now it is back with a vengeance.

He tells me that he’s unable to go to any restroom because there were three stalls in the men’s restroom: two were occupied and one was clogged with poop.

He had tried flushing the poop one but it only made it worse. It just clogged more and the water level rose. If he had sat down and insisted on finishing, his balls would be touching the water and that’s a no-no.

He tried asking the front desk for other restrooms, but he was informed it was the only one. He was desperate and you could just see it in his eyes that he was about to break.

Me, using the big, wrinkly brain that I had, told him to use the women’s restroom. He froze, not even realizing that that was an option.

Now before anyone complains, hear me out.

I would rather be in a restroom with a male in the stall next to me, than exit the restroom and see someone standing outside the men’s restroom trying to wait for a stall with a shit stain in his pants. Excuse the vulgarity, but it’s true.

If you’re ever at one of my tournaments and you need to go and no male restroom is unoccupied, for the love of god, please fucking use the women’s restroom. I do not need this mess on my hands and you best believe I’m shoving myself in the men’s restroom if I gotta fucking go expel unicorns and rainbows.

I go to the restroom with Kevin and stand awkardly on my phone to keep watch, because he didn’t want any of the staff members actually seeing him and risk himself getting kicked out of the venue.

That would’ve been extremely unfortunate.

Luckily, nobody else needed to go use the restroom while Kevin was in there and he was able to safely compete his duty (lol).

If anyone is upset at my suggestion, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t about to not provide such a simple solution for Kevin’s emergency.

Anyway, the tournament start shortly after that.

First match I pay attention to is Kevin vs. Wombat. In my head, I think it’s pools so I shouldn’t worry too much. I try to watch Kevin’s sets, but it makes me physically ill sometimes because my anxiety is wracked up like crazy and I just want to throw up. Many have witnessed me walking away and trying to distract myself multiple times at multiple different tournaments.

It’s like that gory horror movie that you can’t keep looking away from.

Besides knowing that I get sick, I figured it would be fine since I actually enjoy trying to support my boyfriend and watch him come out of pools winners’ side. Not meaning any disrespect by Wombat, by the way. He’s great. Just realistic. It’s like how I expect Kevin to lose to Bob.

Kevin loses Game 1.

Ooh my tummy’s doing barrel rolls like the way Twisty did with that pullout bed. I look away but I’m just so distracted by the crowd noises.

I totally get it, though. Obviously, it’s sick that Wombat’s holding his own against Kevin, who is seed 3 of the tournament. I’d be excited, too, if my friend was making an upset on someone else. But Kevin’s my boyfriend, so obviously, I want him to win.

Kevin barely wins Game 2 and I’m like ooooh boy. My tummy’s going to town and I think I gag a little by how sick I feel. Gotta focus on getting Joey his next match. *deep breaths*

When heartswaptv airs the whole tournament, definitely check out the set. It was really good (as far as I can hear, I couldn’t bring myself to watch the rest of it).

Kevin comes over to me after he’s out of pools and I scold him for making me worried.

AND YOU NOW WHAT HE SAYS?

Kevin: Babe, it’s fine - I almost lost to Zeddy at Redacted City and I got 2nd. I’ll be fine. Me: T____T *incoherent whining noises*

Does Kevin thinks he’s fucking cute for saying that or something? I was not amused.

Since I didn’t have to volunteer TO the entirety of the tournament, I bounced around mingling with other people.

At one point, I get a message from Suvir in our group chat about how he, Sosa, and Narq were planning on coming to visit NorCal. Of course, since Narq was already here, I decided to just go up to him and ask.

Me: So I heard you’re coming to NorCal? Narq: I am? Me: That’s what Suvir said. *shows phone* Narq: I guess I’m going to NorCal!

Suvir: Narq doesn’t actually know. Sosa just said he’d take him with him and said Narq would agree to go because he’s Narq. Me: Oh that makes sense why he had no idea what I was talking about.

It wasn’t until around top bracket did things start to pick up. Not too many spoilers, because (1) no spoilers before they upload the vod and (2) I have a terrible memory when it comes to the matches.

I remember holding up Kevin’s phone to stream to our Discord because we had some non-PM player friends who wanted to see and I think Kevin wanted Thomas (ThundeRzReiGN) to give him some advice throughout the tournament. Not actually coach, but to critique his play.

As more and more top players fell, Kevin made it a goal to do his best not to fall into the landmine that was Losers’. So many heavy hitters were large threats to him: Techboy, Malachi, Akimi, Cloudburst...

Not to say that Winners’ side didn’t have their fair share of monsters: Peter, Parker, Kumatora, Twisty, Nogh, Lunchables...

Kevin’s first match in Top 32 was against Bongo, who people sleep on quite a lot. For those of you that don’t know him, he’s a Captain Falcon from NY who actually beat Kevin at Flex Zone 3 in 2018. Kevin had beaten him at Encore, but it wasn’t easy.

Not to mention Falcon is a pain the butt for Mario. Unfortunately, the match was not recorded (as far as I know), and it was a very exciting match from what I heard. I avoided watching it because based on how long it took, I knew it had to have been a Game 5. During that time, two matches have been finished on “stream.”

Kevin had said his match against Bongo was the toughest one he had - not to discredit his other opponents, of course - but according to him, it was the scariest and closest. Also the threat of being put into Losers so early would’ve made the climb to Top 8 a lot harder.

His overall goal was actually to make Top 8. Despite being a third seed and rank 5, what I’ve noticed about Kevin is that he does have doubts about himself quite often. He’s never complacent in his opponents and worries all the time about being upset and I don’t think anyone puts more pressure on him more than himself.

As I watched my friends progress through bracket, all I can think is there’s not much I can do. I don’t understand the game very much, despite my heavy involvement in the scene. In fact, more often than not, I believe I understand the game the least compared to everyone else.

A tangent from the actual tournament itself is coming, but I think I should address why I’m even in this community:

While everyone loves the game, I love the community behind it. I find it worth it to sit/stand in one location for hours at a time because it allows my friends to enjoy the game they love comfortably without worrying how the tournament is progressing. They can focus on their own growth and passion.

I think what I see is completely different. Like I said, I don’t really understand this game - I can’t differentiate uairs, bairs, d-smashes, etc. I compute it in my head, but can’t visualize it. I don’t recognize most combos - in fact, more often than not, I’m sitting there just staring at the screen kind of blankly. Sometimes, it does make me wonder if I really am part of this community because I don’t really understand the game.

I can’t say I particularly care too much about the game, but I understand how much of an impact it’s made on me and for that, I’m very thankful for this game because it’s led me to some great people.

Back to the actual event and less sap. lol. Is anybody still even reading?

For something put together in a mere two weeks, Trin and their team did an amazing job. Three recording set ups, graphics, a pot, a venue... props to them for gathering the scraps and making a whole out of it. And to think we almost didn’t go.

Madeline (Swanner) ended up coming and it was honestly so good to see her. We aren’t particularly close, but she’s someone I’ve come to care for and just want happiness for her.

Major spoiler, but I don’t think anybody who cares about PM/P+ doesn’t know Kevin won the tournament.

Everyone expected a pop-off, but Kevin just sat there, crying.

I don’t think there’s ever been anything that Kevin has been more passionate about. He loves this game; he loves this community. Never did it ever occur to him that he would win.

I wish I could say more, but honestly, him winning stunned me speechless. And if you didn’t know, the first thing he said after was that he had to call his mother.

His mom is one of his biggest supporters and I love her to death. She has such a huge heart and has never, ever frowned upon Kevin’s love for the game, whole-heartedly supporting it.

I hugged Maddy, because I can’t even imagine how heart-breaking it must be for her to see what could have been on the mainstage. I imagined how much it must’ve hurt her because she just loves the game and the community, but to see it constantly be torn down by Nintendo and her unable to do anything... Give Maddy a hug and thank her if you see her. She deserves the world.

We ended up walking home with PNW, Bob, Mar, Bongo, Cameron (LoyaL), Ivan, and a few others, honestly too dark to completely see and name. It was a very nice night.

We did, however, pass by the rundown house that definitely looked like if we were to talk in there, we’d be killed by the axe murderer that lived there.

Kevin also lagged behind a lot because his phone notifications were going off like crazy and I was worried he was going to just get lost in the darkness or get hit by a car. Stop looking at your phone when you cross the street, dammit.

We got back to our hotel room and ordered pizza - it was bad. God-fucking-dammit, Ohio, why do you suck so much? Kind of a shitty dinner to end the day on, but nothing else was open at 2am. FeelsBadMan.

#Super Smash Bros. #Project M #Project Plus #Nintendo #Riptide #Undertow #Fuck Nintendo

[sarah-bae-maas]

Reign of Queens Chapter Three

When Aelin fell through worlds, she never dreamt that she would make it to Erilea alive. Half of her dream became a reality, she was alive, but she certainly wasn’t in Erilea. With foes at every corner and a powerful family ready to cull her for invading the body of a loved one, she has no choice but to play the games of the Night Court until she can figure out how to return home, hopefully without dragging anyone with her.

An AU! where Aelin fell into Prythian by mistake.

Masterlist           Ao3

Chapter One     Chapter Two

(If you’re wondering why I don’t much anymore, I feel like the audio it’s mental illness innit on TikTok sums it up pretty well. But I’m working on it!)

***

Azriel watched as the women hurried in the direction of the city. The woman, he thought, because that was most definitely not Nesta. He didn’t know how though. Because in a way it was still undeniably her. She smelt the same, she spoke with her usual venom, but Azriel had watched his brother’s mate for many years, and the way she moved was beyond the capabilities of Nesta.

And although her words held malice, he also found himself wanting to laugh with her. Like before, when she’d told Rhys he’d look lovely with a blade him in. Azriel had to forcibly refrain from laughing, and to remind himself that he should not find threats on his brother’s life as funny as he did. Azriel never really felt like laughing when Nesta was around.

He did not fly after her, Not-Nesta was too often searching above her. She was a smart one, too. If she wanted to evade him she could have. He could tell the moment they hit the forest’s edge as they were fighting that she meant to flee into the thicket, and she would have been able to if it had not been for Rhys.

That fight alone was proof enough to Azriel that this wasn’t Nesta. He had never seen some of the techniques used, and he found her a worthy opponent. He also took note of her visceral reaction to a whip, which was unusual considering it was Nesta’s weapon of choice.

Azriel did not want to go to Rhys with his theory until he had either proof or information on what Not-Nesta was up to. He could not so lightly break Cassian’s heart.

Velaris was still hesitant after the evacuation, not as many people milling about. Nesta wove through them without a thought – moving around them with footsteps as light as a dancer.

_____

The library was one of the grandest Aelin had ever seen. Sprawling in large spirals and winding in every direction, she could tell why this would be a solace for the women that worked here. Nesta gave her a brief history on the library’s inhabitants, but even if she hadn’t Aelin would have been able to tell. They had the look to them – that undeniable gleam in their eyes that spoke of trauma, of hardships but survival. It was one Aelin had seen in herself, in Lysandra, in little Evangeline. It was a look no woman or person in Endovier would ever have the chance to have. No person in Terrasen, Erilea, the world once Erawan was done with it. Her throat felt tight, and she rested her hand over her heart as if it might subside the pain. One of the librarians noticed and touched her elbow gently.

“If there anything I can get you, Lady Nesta? The usual?”

“Water would be nice, thank you,” her words blurred.

So you know them well? she asked Nesta. Well enough to have a ‘usual’ at least.

Cassian suggested I get to know them. Grow from them. Learn a little something or two.

Aelin didn’t need to ask why that might have been.

The woman returned and gave her a glass of water. After skulling it, Aelin asked after the book. Nesta had already told her that what you tell these women is always in confidence, and not even Feyre or Rhys would ever reach into their minds for information. It was too much of a violation, apparently. Aelin personally thought doing it on anyone seemed immoral. When Nesta explained Rhys’ magic Aelin had vivid flashbacks of the Valg princes at Mistward – but who was Aelin to judge morality?

“We haven’t had it here for years,” the librarian said apologetically. “The High Lord thought it’s presence made us vulnerable to attack.”

Aelin’s face fell; she felt Nesta sigh in regret.

“However,” she continued, “we have books about that book, and ones that date as far back. And if you have a particular subject in mind, I may be able to find you something with comparable content.”

Aelin gave them something better. She asked for a piece of paper to write on and jotted down a few harmless wyrdmarks. She asked for anything that had those symbols, and they gladly helped. Aelin took a seat, recognizing that although all libraries felt like a little slice of home to her, this was not her forte. And honestly, it was about time there was something she wasn’t at least fantastic at.

Aelin didn’t know if it was because she had been thrust into this world of if it had been from her forced rest, but she was exhausted. Even Nesta was quiet. Her eyes were sore, arms heavy, and her shoulders and neck started to ache.

She rested her head in her hands, her heavy eyelids fluttering. Whenever they closed, she saw the face of Rowan – grave, scared, hopeful. She perfectly saw the set of his jaw, and the twitch to his hands. To anyone else, it might seem like he was showing nothing at all. But she knew him better than that. Between visions of him, she saw Dorian. Both Dorians, now that she knew there were two. Gods, she hoped Dorian was alive and well. And she hoped that Chaol had learnt not to be as emotionally stunted as a pin cushion, so he could help his friend through this time.

Aelin wasn’t quite sure when she fell asleep, only that she was awoken by a slamming hand next to her head.

“Nesta, fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin bolted upright and turned to sneer at Azriel, who was closely followed by Rhysand. They both looked well, and although Rhysand was scowling, Azriel looking down-right jovial. An act, if his hard-set jaw was anything to go by.

“What brings you to the library?” Aelin asked casually, as though she didn’t still have drool on her face from her nap and tangles in her hair from where she had pulled at it in her sleep.

“Wanted to do some light reading,” Rhys said, his eyes glowing with something Aelin couldn’t name.

“What about you, Nesta? It’s been months since you’ve come here for a social chat.” Azriel’s hands were fisted too, even if his body was relaxed.

“Keeping tabs on me?” Aelin sneered. Good thing she had spent half her life learning how to talk to pompous men with big bank accounts and bigger egos, otherwise she might grovel at their unworthy feet. Instead, she presented herself as a challenger – as she knew Nesta would.

Azriel looked at her – dumbfounded. “Yes. Yes I am.”

Aelin didn’t expect such an honest reply.

“Don’t you want to know how he is?” Rhys questioned, stepping to Azriel’s side, one of his hands going to his shoulder.

“You look ravishing Azriel, your arm healed nicely I assume. Fae blood does such wonders.”

Aelin knew she had said something wrong the moment the words fae blood left her mouth. Nesta, who before now had chosen to stay out of this interaction, cursed.

Azriel shared a look with Rhys.

“I was not asking about me,” was not what Aelin thought Rhys would say. “I meant Cassian. You haven’t asked how he is.”

Azriel isn’t a fae you dumb fuck. He’s an Illyrian, so is Cassian, and so was Rhys’s mother.

Aelin coughed at the name. It wasn’t something she’d never been called before, but to hear it so softly spoken as though it were a fact was quite jarring.

And ask about Cassian. Please. I need to know he’s okay.

Aelin did just that, and Rhys practically glared at Azriel as he answered. “He’s worried, and Feyre is beside herself.”

“She’s thirty weeks pregnant, it’s to be expected that she’s emotional.” Repeating facts was good, showing them that she knew things was good. Calling Azriel a fae had been a strong misstep, one hopefully redacted as a slip of the tongue.

“The baby has nothing – Nesta, what are you doing?” Rhys glanced behind her, taking a peek at the books the librarians had procured for her. Books and – and cookies, bless their hearts.

“Some light reading. Which I was hoping to do in peace, if you would politely leave.”

Good luck trying to get HigH LoRd RhYSanD to do anything. He’s so stubborn he makes you look reasonable. Ask more about Cassian. Ask if he’s still going to Illyria today.

“Is Cassian still going to Illyria today? Maybe you could join him. He might actually like being in your presence.” Aelin smiled sweetly at the two men, trying to distract them from the books she was subtly trying to push aside.

“Cassian has decided to stay home, in case you need him,” Azriel said slowly, carefully deciding his words. Aelin tilted her head, studying him. He was quite beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would have made her do reckless things in her youth. And the darkness that surrounded him… although personified in the male in front of her, it reminded her so much of her Rowan that she wanted to scream. What had become of her in her own realm? What horror was Rowan facing alone? When she did what she did, she did so knowing that she would die. This was infinitely worse in some ways – she had no idea what was now happening at home. Was she comatose? Was she dead, and this was the afterlife?

And a possibility she didn’t want to linger on. That she could go back and be with him. But only if she made it in time. She knew Rowan better than she knew herself, and she ached at the possibility of what he might do if he lost another mate.

He might just try to join her in a death she hadn’t yet been granted, and she couldn’t exist in any version of reality that didn’t have Rowan in it.

That is how I feel about Cassian. He is everything to me, Nesta confessed, the words honest and strained. Tell them they should make him go. He needs a distraction, and I don’t want him seeing me like this. Azriel may assume I’m on a bender, and I don’t think I could cope if Cassian thought the same. Azriel and Rhys would feed him that lie. I fucking know they would.

“He should go. He has so much to do, and I don’t want him lingering and worrying,” Aelin said, looking down to try and seem more passive. Maybe if they thought her harmless, they would leave her be even if something was wrong.

“We tried. He doesn’t want to leave you.”

His gallantry was noted and would otherwise be appreciated. It was also clear he wasn’t the only stubborn Illyrian Nesta knew. The two in front of her wouldn’t budge even if it meant saving themselves from her wrath.

I don’t think they respect you very much, she told Nesta.

I prefer fear anyway.

Aelin hummed.

“Something funny?” Rhys asked, pulling up a seat beside her and swiping one of her cookies.

“I was just thinking… maybe I will go home. Make sure he’s okay.”

What? Why are you doing that? He’ll figure you out, idiot. Or worse, he’ll think I’m on the piss.

Aelin picked up the books, hoping she would be allowed to take the volumes home with her. There, they would leave her be. She just had to hope that if Cassian really was Nesta’s Rowan, then he would love her enough to keep her secrets. Aelin had the whole walk home to think of a lie extravagant enough to get them all off her back and figure out how to ask Cassian to not mention her new choice in genre. Something told Aelin these books differed from the obvious romance titles that lined Nesta’s personal shelves.

I’ll help you, Nesta said. If only so you leave quicker.

#rowaelin #nessian #tog #kingdom of ash #a court of silver flames #acotar #fanfic #feysand #acowar

[nametags]

But her emails...

I aim to be a woman of integrity. I’ve sat on the content I’m about to share for almost 6 years in part because it originally was a private conversation between me and a friend. A friend who happens to be a lead singer of a band, but a friend none the less. However the way people have been speaking about him and what’s been going on in the world lately, I couldn’t let this stay hidden anymore.

I’m tired of people claiming that because Patrick no longer uses social media (and hasn’t for damn near five years at this point) that somehow he doesn’t “care” or isn’t doing anything right now to help the Black Lives Matter movement. I’m also incredibly tired of people ignoring/belittling the fact that Pete Wentz is a biracial/black man in America. You really do not want the social media person in charge of Patrick’s account tweeting things out. It would be hollow and fake.

Below is both a transcript of the conversation I had with Patrick on 12/06/2014, a follow up message he sent to me 08/25/2015, and the accompanying screenshots. Unfortunately I do not have the tweet(s) that prompted me to contact him in the first place nor can I find screenshots of them to provide that context. An image of me and my younger brother Jacob when we met the band at Boys of Zummer will also be attached to demonstrate one of the people I was concerned about in my original email. 

The only redactions made were my personal email address and the name of a friend I referenced. Patrick deleted his email account at some point between late 2016 and early 2017. It’s only left in these screenshots as proof for those who knew the address before to see these were legitimate messages. I hope the content reveals not only where his heart lies not only then but where it is now. 

Allison White: So I caught the insanity way late, but it's a tricky spot to be in with what's going on. For most of my life, I didn't even identify with half of my race. I was raised with my mom's side of the family and it just didn't click for me. It really hasn't been until teen years and onward that I've opened my eyes to it all. And with that, I began to grow wary of authority in a way. Like I still believe that people go into law enforcement for the right reasons. The few times I have dealt with police officers personally I haven't been concerned, but I have noticed in the past few years that when I spot a police car on the road or an officer just out in public somewhere is if I look "white enough" or do I actually look like an adult who belongs in whatever space I am in. I know Trayvon Martin was murdered by a vigilante and not an actual officer of the law, but that was when I first started to fear for my little brothers. I knew both of them were the sort of young men that could get targeted and most likely justice would not be found for them. And then there comes this summer. With both the Mike Brown and Eric Garner cases coming back with no indictment, it makes it feel as if it's just open season for black people to be hunted by cops. Which is hurtful for the cops who are actually in it to protect and serve, and every citizen who now has to wonder if they are next. I hope that your cousin is doing alright. I hope that people aren't making his job harder right now. Just I know for me right now with all that's going on I am definitely on the side of the protesters.

Patrick Stump: Brief for now; I'm sorry in all that you didn't notice that I'm squarely on the side of the protestors too. That's a failure of my wording

PS: The problem is that I so poorly expressed myself, people thought I was balancing the empathy to be spread across the black community and cops. That's a mistake on my part. I'm angry.

I'm angry that Mike Brown's case didn't yield enough evidence to indict. But that case was a very complicated one...Brown had just (allegedly) committed a violent crime and information was murky. As sure as I was that Wilson straight up murdered the Brown, I understood the limitations of the american Justice system given how little evidence there was. That's the unfortunate reality of justice is that it needs to be just. It needs to be 100%. We can't go in with "I know in my heart." And so that case pissed me off, but I understood it. 

With Eric Garner however, this just feels so flagrant. By no accounts was he violent, wasn't he doing anything that could even be misconstrued as life-threatening enough to even imagine defending the usage of deadly force. He was cooperating and they choked him to death on camera. That's fucked up. I'm pissed. I tried to be polite and sit back and not say anything, but I'm pissed.

However, my reason for discussing the side of the police as well is that human beings are complicated. When we boil people down to simplistic stereotypes, when we create a narrative of "Us VS them," we lose sight of the humanity of it all. You can't reason with a "Them." You can only reason with a person and it works better when you remember they're people.

I don't believe in enemies. I'm not religious but I love the way Jesus preached "Love thy enemy." That's hugely influential to me. Hugely important. That's the empathy I mean.

The other night I was holding my son and I thought to myself about a black girl I used to date. And how, we could have had a kid together. Maybe a little boy. And how, that boy could (by no action of his own) be killed just for the color of his skin. Like, I've heard and read words like that before, but to actually connect with it (on as small a scale as that) was horrifying. Gutting. For a little moment I thought, all this joy and all this beauty and somewhere, someone's having a black baby boy, loving him and feeling all the same things I feel for my son. But I wondered if in between their tired diaper changes and their burpings, if they were saying a silent prayer "I hope you don't get killed by a cop." If they say it constantly because they know how possible it is. Or even if he lives to be a 100, what black man won't have an unjust run in with the law? Not to make it exclusively a male issue but seriously, how many black men are in prison right now in America? That's a disgusting thing. The young parent of a young black boy probably considers that and that's maybe the most depressing thing I've ever tried to understood. That's a horrifying thing. There really still is a racial divide in this country, and to not be black is to not say those little prayers. We live in a supposedly free country. What about the pursuit of happiness? Who's defending the right of that little black baby boy born somewhere in America to just be an adorable little baby without any pretense? And when that baby grows up, who's defending his right to walk down a residential sidewalk and not expect to get pulled over and frisked? Maybe worse? 

So I'm angry. Just plain angry. But I didn't want to offend anyone so I expressed my anger in the lightest way I could think of. 

I'm not sorry for having an opinion, I'm sorry I explained it so poorly that you didn't know what it was.

AW: All of this is hard, and there is so much anger. You shouldn't ever be sorry for your opinions, and I am pretty sure you yourself have told people only be sorry for how you express your opinions. I wasn't upset with you or what you said, I just felt compelled to share that for me there's a knee jerk reaction to the image/idea of police and why.  This whole situation has been tough and it's been inspiring watching people across this country let their anger show and demonstrate in the streets against it. It makes me wish I was brave enough to take part in it out in the streets and not just online. 

I hope this collective anger and protest leads to real change. That in 2014 we are able to do the things they were aiming for in 1964. I mean recently the full letter the FBI sent to MLK to urge him into suicide was released and it just highlights the divide between how much has and has not changed. There's a lot of value in what religion is supposed to teach. Love thy enemy, love thy neighbor. True love and care for those around you is a great thing and certainly something I'd hope people identified with. 

The past nearly seven years there has been this push for hope and change. Maybe the country is finally reaching a point to make it happen?

PS: I have a funny feeling this is civil rights part 2. I'm proud of the protests. I'm so grateful our generation is angry about something it should be angry about for a change.

AW: An argument can be made that our generation (or just post baby boomer generations in general) have been taught and fed nonsense to keep us compliant, but that veers into a territory that I am not completely sure or comfortable with. Overall I do think that this is heading a direction that the powers that be are not ready for in the slightest.

PS: Where did I go wrong? What do people think I said? They're so mad at me, and none of the people have said anything I didn't mean. I'm not getting angry right-wing stuff, people are just calling me a racist. What did I say that was racist? What do I think that's racist?

AW: There's a strong immediate reaction right now of if you sound slightly in favor of the officers that did wrong that you are racist. The swift reaction and need to dogpile on is kind of crazy. I think people took the initial comment to mean "not all cops!!!!" In the same vein as "not all men!!!" and that's where the rage is coming from. 

AW: Just to be clear, those who matter know you're not racist. You have shown both in your words and actions where your beliefs lie. I don't know how to calm the masses right now because at least for the time being its not going to get through :(

AW: You could try a blog entry on tumblr?

PS: Nah, I think I've done enough damage for one lifetime. I think I'll keep it to myself but I appreciate your talking it through with me. 

AW: No problem. I am always willing to be a sounding board for that stuff if you need it.

PS: I re-read my stuff; "I support our police," is the worst things said. I meant "I support the idea of police and the need for a police force we can trust on a national level," not "I support the police in NYC who are killing people and attacking protestors." That sucks.

AW: If you wanna try to clarify now you can. At least in your Google alert it only had one mention of he mess and it was a tumblr user supporting/defending you. 

PS: There's no fixing it. The Internet is unforgiving I think and the reality is, I said that. I didn't mean it in the way that it so obviously sounds, but I said that. So I deserve everything I get.

AW: It will most likely go easier if you let it ride out instead of trying to go out and fight it. That just gives the "he doth protest too much" air about it. Hopefully the energy behind letting you know you said something like that will dissipate sooner rather than later. And that it won't get big enough for someone to write a story about it. 

PS: Yeah. It'll sound like back-pedaling and glad-handing. Anyway, thanks for talking it through! 

AW: You're very welcome! Thank you for hearing out my side of it this morning.

PS:  I never would've ignored your side.

AW: Which is very much appreciated

AW: I say that because in the past two weeks I have lost a handful of friends because of all of what's going on and them being unable to understand how and why their words hurt me.

PS: Well that's awful and unfair

AW: It was but they were all from the "when I look at you I don't see black, I just see Ally" camp and then would go on to say things about stereotypes and "thugs"

PS: Yeah. Thug. "Oh that's so ghetto." Bullshit.

AW: When someone says "thug" it's always clear they wanna say the n word

PS: Or even if they're the kind of "Well meaning," person who knows enough not to say that word, they mean the same thing

PS: "Not like you. You're good"

PS: White America just needs to know what it doesn't know

PS: Or rather, understand that there are things they (we) will never understand. Not from a first person perspective.

AW: It always makes me want to scream. The erasure of identity so then the people known to them stay safe. It reminds me of something I witnessed the other day. My friend [REDACTED] from junior high is now an established lawyer. Needless to say he has been keeping up very much with the recent events. He made a post about it and one of his friends commented with "I wish you would go back to being my friend [REDACTED] and not my black friend [REDACTED]." Mind you there's no denying [REDACTED] is a black man. He can't pass in the slightest so the comment shocked and saddened me. Thankfully [REDACTED] handled it with poise and grace. 

PS: If you have to say you have a "black friend," then you probably don't. That's fucked. I guess I just genuinely didn't imagine how pervasive this stuff really is. Like, Pete and Joe and I have been talking a lot today. I was under the misapprehension that we grew up in a decently inclusive area. Just come to find out, nobody used those words around me. The whole time they were heckling kids like Joe and Pete. I thought racism was this thing that doesn't happen here. It's scary how much it's come out post Obama's election. Elected officials sending out mass e-mails of pictures of watermelons. I just didn't get it. Ignorance is bliss.

AW: It knows how to hide in plain sight, which is a lot of the problem. People are taught "don't be racist!!!!" Without being told exactly what racism is. People (myself included at times) aren't aware of words/phrases/ideas have nefarious ties until too late. 

PS: I think we get too caught up on words and not enough on what they imply. "Thug," means a prepackaged idea of a black male. It instantly limits his perceived intelligence, his perceived trustworthiness, his perceived value to society, and his perceived prospects in life. That's so fucked. We expect black men to go to prison. Not be doctors and lawyers. When a black man is a doctor or lawyer, we treat him like such a cool novelty. When a black woman asserts herself, she's so "Sassy." "You go girl." 

These little words and phrases feel harmless. They never were

AW: Those are the positives. Usually assertive black women are angry, mean. It's so fucked all around. 

AW: I really owe Pete for helping me be informed on Ferguson. He tweeted the hashtag the night the protests started in August and it helped me dive in. I am sure tumblr would have got me to it eventually, but seeing it from day one was a definite help. 

PS: You know part of my problem? I'm just not brave enough to say what I think. I'm just scared of offending people. Pete's not. He doesn't care. That's powerful

AW: It takes a lot to just put it out there. I am not sure if I had the amount of eyes on me that you do that I would be so "fuck you I will do/say what I want" as I am. Hell I become such a shadow of myself when at work with how quiet and polite I am. I mean I am still pierced and tatted with short hair so visually I say a lot, but then I watch my speech to make us for it. 

(Follow up on 8/25/2015)

Patrick Stump: That is amazing and I'm very flattered. By the way; Been thinking about our conversation from a year ago a lot. The takeaway is this: Saying "All lives matter," and "Not all cops," while literally true are contextually horrendous. Really awful. In retrospect I feel pretty awful about saying both. Specifically because "All lives matter," can carry a lot of implications. Who's lives? I meant by it that Latinos and Muslims are also unreasonably targeted/mistreated/murdered by cops. But is it as systematic or blatant as it is with darker skinned Americans? Not remotely. Furthermore, as a white man, I just need to remember how fucking easy I have it. It's easy for me to preach peace and unflinching patience when I've NEVER been a victim of the War On Drugs or the aftermath of straight up slavery. So there's a lot to think about in terms of what I, a white guy, have to say and do about the situation. But not a lot I have to say about the way it feels to be oppressed to the point of feeling like less than a citizen of this country. I shouldn't have spoken about it because I don't/can't know. Well-meaning white folks get to talk about policy changes and do everything we can to help, otherwise we should get the fuck out of the way. I'm sorry, really REALLY sorry to the world that I ever said either of those things. It's more than "Fuck the police." It's "Fuck this whole system." And as aware as I'd been, I hadn't realized how complacent in it I was. Anyway, disgusted I said what I said. Sorry to the whole world for being part of the problem

#text #fall out boy #patrick stump #black lives matter

[thepartyresponsible]

so here’s a short fic about what could have happened the morning after the events of winter soldier, if the team was ever actually allowed to get along. it’s 100% ridiculous team fluff.

After the fall of SHIELD, after that whole surprise splashfight in the Potomac, after the Winter Soldier hauls Steve Rogers out of the water and is subsequently tranq’d into unconsciousness thanks to Clint’s excellent – albeit somewhat belated – sharpshooting, Tony decides it’s time for the Avengers to rework their communications plan.

“I mean,” he says, with the kind of truly theatrical astonishment he saves for special occasions, “a phone call, Rogers. I had to track you assholes through CNN.”

“We were on the run,” Steve says. “How was I supposed to--”

“On the run!” Tony points emphatically at Bruce. “And you didn’t invite Bruce? He loves being on the run, Steve, and you know that.”

“What? That’s not...” Bruce looks between them and blinks. “Tony, I don’t actually--”

“You don’t have to make excuses for him, Bruce,” Tony says, waving him off. “The point is, he had a big adventure without us, and look what happened.”

Across the table, Natasha coughs something into her fist that sounds suspiciously like Mandarin.

Tony makes a noise of wounded shock and swivels to face her. “Settle down, Data Breach,” he says. “I had a weekend rager and lost a few suits. You and Steve partied so hard you toppled a government agency, adopted a stray super soldier, and leaked exceedingly personal details on every single one of us. Half of the world’s seen more than half of Barton’s ass, and I, personally, am affronted on his behalf. His behind? His behind’s beha--”

“Tony,” Steve says, rubbing at his face. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Oh, why? Do you have afternoon plans, Steven?” Tony paints on an expression of thoughtful concern. “Are you gonna take down the CDC this afternoon? Leak Bruce’s sex tape and topple the U.S. National Park Service?”

“Okay,” Bruce says, “I have a number of objections to that statement. The first being--”

“You have a sex tape?” Clint lifts his head off the table for the first time in ten minutes. He’s a red-eyed, bedheaded mess. He washed up on Tony’s doorstep a few hours back, driven from his apartment by people who wouldn’t quit climbing the fire escape to press their faces against his windows and ask for autographs. From the videos Tony’s seen of Clint fleeing Bed-Stuy, he barely made it out with his life and virtue intact.

“No,” Bruce says. He’s flushed to his ears. “I don’t have a sex tape. And, if I did, it wouldn’t be at all related to the National Park Service. Tony, I really don’t know why you would even connect the two.”

“I have a question,” Sam Wilson says. He has his hand up and everything. Tony refuses to be charmed by him, no matter how mercenary he is with that slightly gap-toothed grin.

Tony gives him dual finger-guns to really underline how not-charmed he is. “Talk to me, Goose.”

“Yeah,” Wilson says, “can I go home?”

“Oh, you sweet, summer gosling,” Tony says, under his breath. And then, louder, “JARVIS, give us some drone footage of Mr. Wilson’s home, please.”

JARVIS projects a feed onto the space above the breakfast table. Wilson’s not an Avenger or a SHIELD agent; he’s new and handsome, but he doesn’t have anywhere near the following that the rest of them acquired post-New York. So there’s just a modest showing on his sidewalk, six or seven news vans and about twenty people prowling around interviewing neighbors. As they watch, one guy lifts the lid on Sam’s garbage can.

“Oh my God,” Sam says. “It’s not even trash day. What the fuck.”

“Sam.” Steve looks stricken. He has a habit of doing that, Tony’s noticed. It’s a nice midway point in Steve’s I fucked up realization pattern, tends to make an appearance after the consequences of his actions settle in but before he resolves, stoic and grim-faced, to do the same damn thing all over again if God, duty, or Lady Liberty demand.

Tony likes to think his own I fucked up routine is a bit subtler. But, to be fair to Steve, he’s had more opportunities to practice.

“They’ll be gone in a news cycle,” Natasha says, coolly dismissive of everything that isn’t the half-eaten almond croissant in front of her.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Right, and will that be before or after Congress drags in half the team?”

“Aw shit,” Clint groans, face mashed into the table again. “Am I gonna have to wear a suit? Nat, you’ll do it for me, right? Wear my face and do all the—you know. The testifying part? Bartons don’t do well in court.”

“I can’t testify in front of Congress,” Bruce says. He’s starting to look suspiciously bug-eyed. The wider his eyes get, the more likely Tony is to wake up in the morning and discover his favorite houseguest has fucked off to Malaysia. “I don’t like public speaking. I’ll break D.C.”

Tony snorts. “D.C.’s been broken since the 1700s.”

“Hey,” Steve says.

“No, no, let him speak,” Sam says, not even looking up from his scrambled eggs. “The man has a point.”

Tony blinks. “Hey, Wilson, you wanna stay here til the reporters stop camping out at your house?”

Wilson flashes him another adorable grin and then proceeds to wink at him. “Sure thing,” he says. “Was that a hot tub I saw on the roof?”

“No,” Tony says, “but it will be by the end of the day.”

Clint manages to visibly perk up without ever actually lifting his head. “Hell yes, a hot tub party. I think I sprained something dodging all those civilians.”

“International super spy,” Natasha reminds him. Some of that almond croissant is stuck to her chin. Tony has never met a braver pastry.

“International super spy,” Clint agrees, pointing at himself, “with zero collateral damage in the past six months. I wasn’t gonna break my streak trying to get away from Suzie Grabbyhands. Although, honestly, next time, Nat, if you’re gonna leak my personnel file, maybe redact the pictures from that undercover gig in St. Barths. You know the effect they have on people.”

Tony clears his throat. He saw the pictures years ago, back when Clint’s file cropped up in the list of potential Avengers candidates, but he’d still been left slightly stunned when they resurfaced post-Potomoc splash-pocalypse. It would take a stronger – and straighter – man than he to become so quickly inured to the sight of all that well-muscled, freckle-dotted skin.

“Speaking of which,” Tony says. “Barton. Do you still have that swimsuit? And, casual follow-up question, will you be wearing it to this evening’s hot tub party?”

Clint tips his head up just far enough to level a surprisingly devastating smirk Tony’s direction. “Is that gonna cover my rent?”

“I’d like to focus,” Bruce says, “if we could, on the massive data breach that Steve and Natasha--”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “me too. But, real quick, I have some questions about this swimsuit.”

“Natasha’s got a matching one,” Clint says. Steve chokes on his pancakes. “Very relaxed public decency laws in the French West Indies.”

“Romanoff,” Tony says, turning a beatific smile her direction, “what are your thoughts on hot tubs?”

#writing #fic

[wayfaring-cryptid]

[Art by me, refs i found on google. Character is mine and my comfort character]

(Back story on Jay Clef Wolfwood)

He doesnt remember much of his childhood. His adoptive father said he was found half drowned in the river. Clearly unwanted by whatever parent he was with before. If it werent for Agent Stareye, a GOC field anget he wouldnt have seen his first birthday. Since then his mind was in a fuzz until he started highschool. He can recall his fathers coworkers looking after him but never seeming happy about it. People always tense around him... never seeming comfortable with his company.. and the list, oh fuck the list, he had to live by for his "saftey" according to his father.

Never be in any pictures. Its a way to be tracked.

Never walk alone in the woods. Its too dangerous

Never tell anyone about what dad does for work

Never talk about dads friends

Never talk about what dad does

Theres more but he slowly outgrew them. As he finished highschool he entered a special collage the GOC provided for him and others like him. He was top of his class. He further advanced his education and became a science doctor, much to his fathers pride, but then... the incident happened. He was waiting for his father to return home when a reality bending anomaly was spotted near the house. He didnt notice until he walked outside to get something from the back garden. There it was staring him down. They entered a strange staring contest before he took a step further. The anomaly seemed shocked and growled at him, then the shot rang out. He whipped his head back and saw his father with his work rifle.

"Inside! Now!!" His father barked with a panicked tone.

Jay wasted no time and bolted into his childhood home. His father looked him over and hugged him close, explaining what happened.

"But.. nothing happened? It just stood there..." jay replied confused then shrunk into himself at his fathers look

"You.. didnt notice the world literally melting around you? Oh fuck oh fuck fuckfuckfuck!!" His father started to pace and tug at his hair.

"Father.. dad whats wrong?" He was scared, father never acted like this...

"Pack clothes and anything you need desperately. I... i need to call in a favor-" and off his father went.

Jay did as he was told and hurried to pack bags of clothes, blankets that calmed him, worn stuffed animals, all drawings, pictures of dad and his coworkers, and anything that would keep him sane.

He and father started to load up the car just as dads radio started to go off.

For the first time ever, his father turned it off.

They drove for hours after the incident until they reached a cabin across the country. His father has been quiet the entire time but looked to him with tears in his eyes.

"Listen my little bird.. you wont understand this yet but.. the person who lives here... she'll care for you okay? Shes gunna get you a good job and keep you safe. Please do not, and i mean this, do not under any circumstances tell them about me or what happened. You will be killed if anyone found out about who i am or what happened. Never forget your safety list either okay? I love you baby bird.. i hope you live well.." his father held his shoulders firmly as he started to cry.

Jay was frozen as tears silently streamed down his cheeks. He had so many things he wanted to say, things to ask, but no words came out.

A woman with bright red hair and her husband came out in a hurry to help unload the car while the father and son had their moment.

It wasnt until jay was on the porch and watching his father figure drove away. He broke down screaming and crying. He never knew it then but as his world broke so did the world around him.

The world gray-scaled and started to crack. Pitch black horns sprouted from his forehead and curved like twisted dear antlers. His eyes blazed different, glitching colors and a third eye opened.

The husband took a risk and hugged him tightly, urging him to calm down. It.. it took some time before things settled, the world back to normal... but jay wasnt. There were stubs where his horns were and a faint line of his third eye remained.

The kind husband, Gary, took him inside and sat him on the guest bed. Gary and Rose, the wife, began to explain what they could. That his father's work hunted down anomalies and he would be forced to kill him were his work to find out. Rose was his brother and worked for a different organization called the SCP foundation. They protected and contained anomalies like the one in the woods.

"But... i wasnt the one father killed. Why... why did he leave me here?" Jay asked through hiccups.

"Well.. that anomaly was a reality bender. It makes things change around you. You never noticed and even scared it to backing down. No one can just... not be affected. You would most likely be killed.. the place your father works for hates anomalies and he wouldnt be able to hide you. The SCP foundation would allow us to not only give you a home but make you at least a class b researcher. They would treat you well given our status as class a doctors."

As rose explained jay just nodded numbly. He wouldnt be seeing his father ever again for his own safety. It felt so.. selfish. That was the man who took him in when no one wanted him, raised him pasted the age he was about to be denied, given a home and love. Now he understands why he was abandoned, their birth parent knew he was different and tried to kill him.

Soon the lovely couple left him to unpack and settle in.. he kept the photos hidden away but didnt get rid of them. Just as he put the last blanket on... well on his new bed there was a soft knock at the door.

"Hey.. jay um.. a doctor is here just to make sure youre okay. She wont tell anyone unless we say. Shes nice, rose works with her." Gary spoke softly with a... pitiful expression.

Jay nodded and walked to the dining room with a stuffed deer plush hes always had for comfort.

The doctor, Dr felleen, made sure his mind was still in one piece and that he had no hidden injuries. He was completely fine so to speak.

Time would pass and he would adjust to his new home, gary and rose maple were kind to him. They taught him alot about where he would first show up during a "bring your child to work day" then shadow gary, who was hot shit on campus. Soon he would have his own office at Site [redacted] which he excelled in. He could make any SCP talk. Sure his coworkers were uneased around him, like something bad would happen if they stayed, but he didnt mind. Eventally he was forced to transfer to Site [redacted] and sadly forced to move away from gary and rose. He left on good terms and promises to keep in touch. He takes most of his things, just in case he must come back and takes a moment to look at photos of his old adoptive father. He smiles and kisses the photo.

Hes gotta go, Dr Kondraki is gunna be his new site director! He promised to show him around, something about 05 loving his work and promoting him to class a? Oh well. Things seem to be looking up!

[More to follow soon!]

#art #my art #scp #dr kondraki #dr clef #GOC #reality benders #reality anchor #abandoned child #unwanted kid #adoptive parents #hint hint #that one goddess clef was... yea #shes vaguely meantioned #hinted at really

[lille082]

Kismet

a fic fulfilling the “betting pool” and “the mystery of q’s name”  squares on the Trope Prompt Table (004) by @mi6-cafe

Kismet

-----

There are only two people employed by MI6 who know Q’s birth name other than himself. One, by virtue of his position, is Mallory. He’d seen the redacted files on the Quartermaster shortly before they’d been destroyed as part of Q’s paperless initiative.

The other found out through sheer, dumb luck...

R finished combing through the debugging program she was working on, glaring at the screen when she found the exact line of code where she’d missed a bracket. The irony was not lost on her.

Glancing at the clock, she noted that a solid fifteen minutes had passed since Double-Oh Six strutted out of the branch. Enough time that she shouldn’t arouse suspicion by heading to Q’s office.

She made a show of stretching at her station, rolling her neck in circles and twisting from side to side in an attempt to crack her back. Victor appeared to have returned to his work but Amara kept referencing the paper on Trevelyan had given her, likely updating their database.

R grabbed her nearly empty mug and stepped back from her desk.

“Eddie, I need a warm up here. You have the conn.”

“Aye, Captain,” the younger tech grinned and saluted her.

She waited until he’d put his headset on before taking her’s off, logging out, and putting her computer to sleep.

“Don’t let Q hear you call me that. You’ll never hear the end of it,” she joked as she headed for the kitchenette in the break area.

She tossed the dregs of her tea down the drain and grabbed one of Q’s mugs from the sideboard. Relaxing into the routine of making tea, she took the time to doctor Q’s with precision. R knew she excelled at what she did, but she suspected that her promotion had been sealed when it came to light that her and Double-Oh Nine were the only people in the building Q trusted to make his tea exactly as he liked it.

A mug in each hand, she carefully made her way back to Q’s office and knocked on the bottom of the door with her boot.

“Come in.”

She pushed against the door with her hip but it was latched shut. She kicked the door once more and heard her boss huff before a wheel scrapped across the floor.

“You honestly couldn’t op—,” Q’s grumbling cut off as he flung the door open and saw R standing there with a cheeky smile, holding his mug out for him, “Oh! Thank you, R.”

“Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Q nodded and stepped back. He accepted the outstretched mug, studying her closely as she closed the door behind her.

“What can I do for you, R?” Despite the kind smile on his face, his voice was neutral and diplomatic as he returned to his seat.

She recognized the concern in his tone and waved her hand as she sat down, trying to assuage his worries.

“It’s nothing serious, but I thought you should know that Victor and Amara’s, um, project is beginning to expand beyond the current parameters.“

The corners of Q’s mouth turned down and he appeared to wrack his brain for the details of their current assignment before he realized what she was talking about.

“The betting pool?” Q laughed, cautiously taking a sip of his too-hot tea.

“Yes, sir. It seems that Double-Oh Six just bet 100 quid and you know Trevelyan won’t be able to keep that to himself.”

“100 quid?” He gaped at her before recovering swiftly. “I thought entries were only five?”

R nodded and took a delicate sip of tea.

“They are, sir. He came in with a list of 20 different names.”

Q snorted, shaking his head.

“I knew they’d gotten the cleaning crew in on it, but I didn’t think they’d push the boundaries any further than that.”

“Rod’s team? If they’re in, it’s no wonder Double-Oh Six knew about it.”

Q shrugged with a wry smile.

“For being in espionage, people around here are terrible at keeping secrets.”

R laughed.

“I think it’s more to do with knowing national security isn’t exactly at stake if they gossip. Do you want me to shut it down?”

Q considered the question but had to agree with R’s summation. He waved his hand dismissively.

“No, let them have their fun at my expense. If it allows them to blow off enough steam for us to avoid another stapler incident, it’s worth it.”

R snorted and they shared exasperated grins. They sat for a moment in companionable silence before Q cracked.

“Okay, I have to know. What’s the current front runner?” His smile was puckish and R couldn’t help but notice how much younger it made him look.

“I don’t know.” She said, shrugging.

Q raised an eyebrow as she threw the end of her hijab back over her shoulder where it’d slipped off.

“Oh, come on. You must have some idea.”

“Well. . .I don’t know what the actual name is but last I heard the odds favored something terribly modern, like Kasper with a ‘K’ or Maddox. If I recall correctly, the guesses are mostly split between more, um, current names with extraneous letters or the standard top tens. You know: Thomas, Christopher, Daniel, Michael, Andrew—popular ones.”

She leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on her face. ”Though there seem to be a few favoring names that start with Q—Quincy, Quinlan, Quinten, Quigley.”

Q laughed loudly at that and R smiled, happy to be able to keep pulling him out of the rigid, no-nonsense persona he put on at work.

“Quigley, that’s amazing. . .” He chuckled as he raised his mug to his lips. “And what did you put your money down on?”

R offered him an indulgent smile.

“I’m not the betting kind.”

“No? Well, you must have at least a guess.”

“I. . .may have some theories.”

“Like?” He smiled, indulging his curiosity.

She narrowed her eyes as she set her cup of tea down on the desk, leaning forward to study him. Q stared back passively, waiting.

“I don’t think it’s anything modern or obnoxious. It’s not overly common or terribly simple, like Mark or Jeff. It’s something that’s a little old-fashioned, maybe, but smart without sounding pompous.”

Q’s smile grew across his face even as he tried to hide it.

“So? What’s my real name then, hmm?”

R laughed, shrugging and reached for her mug.

“I don’t know. . .Ethan? Theodore? Isaac? Malcolm? Simon? Freddie? Oliver?”

If R had been looking at Q as she carelessly tossed out her guesses instead of focusing on her tea, she would have seen Q’s posture abruptly stiffen, the smile on his face chased away by flashes of shock-confusion-fear before silent fury took hold.

The sound of his chair crashing into the wire rack behind his desk as he abruptly stood up made R jump, sloshing tea over the side of her mug. She watched, shocked, as he promptly snapped the blinds to his office window shut and locked the door.

He turned slowly on his heel to face her, tension radiating from him. His voice was tight.

“Where did you find it?”

“Find what?” R frowned and tried kept her voice as calm as she could among her growing confusion. She deliberately placed the cup of tea back on his desk, not breaking eye contact.

“Don’t, R. I know you’re smarter than that. Where was it?” He took a step towards her, voice low and dangerous.

“Q,” R stood, trying to gain some footing in a situation quickly spiraling out of control without her knowing why. She held her hands out, open and placating. “I’m not—“

Q’s jaw twitched and she cut herself off as she saw him glance out of the corner of his eye towards the gun he’d been working on where it lay next to the toolbox on his desk. Panic coursed through her and she vehemently shook her head, but wasn’t able to say anything before he continued.

“Why would you be looking that far back? Fuck!” There was a fierceness in his eyes she’d never seen before. He took another creeping step towards his desk and continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “That name’s been dead and buried for a long time. Who are you working for?”

R felt her lungs freeze inside her chest and she blinked. If the betrayal in his tone hadn’t clued her in, that certainly did the trick.

She’d later blame the utterly lethargic firing of her synapses on how blindsided with panic she’d been at the idea of Q turning a gun on her.

She knew his current alias and his cover identities. When they’d first started working together, years ago, he’d been called Colin—but, just as she’d been given the name Naima when she was promoted to R, she knew he’d been assigned that one too. She didn’t know the name he used before that, let alone the actual name that had been put in ink on his birth certificate decades ago.

There was no way. . .

She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but eventually closed it when it nothing came out that could be construed as actual words.

Q, still as could be, watched the play of emotions across her face before everything clicked into place.

His eyes widened in what R would’ve considered a highly comical fashion had her heart not been close to beating out of her chest. His expression cleared as he realized just how dumbfounded R was.

“You. . .You have no idea, do you?”

She shook her head, still completely gobsmacked.

“So I--I guessed right?”

Q began laughing and immediately deflated as all the tension left his body in a matter of seconds. He placed a hand on his chest and exhaled in obvious relief.

“Yes. Yes, you did, love.” He said, shaking his head in amazement as he pulled her into a brief hug. “Shit, R. You bloody terrified me. I thought it was a lucky guess at first, but then you had my middle name too and—Christ, I thought you’d defected! I was afraid I’d have to shoot you right here if you tried anything before I could call someone in.”

R laughed weakly and took a step back from him.

With a delighted grin and a wondrous huff of laughter, he leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms.

“I know you said you’re not one to gamble, but maybe you should buy a lottery ticket on your way home, yeah? That or start a psychic hotline.”

R managed a grin as she sat back down, reaching for her tea with a shaky hand.

“Er. . .Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Q snorted and waved at her to continue.

“You are bloody terrifying when you need to be, did you know that?” She exhaled and took a fortifying sip of her tea.

Q looked rather pleased with himself.

She smiled up at him before continuing.

“You know, I reckon we’d get more of our equipment back if you got angry like that with Double-Oh Seven.”

“I’m, ah, afraid he’s a lost cause,” Q hedged, reaching across his desk for his cuppa. Based on the rising blush and how he avoided her eyes, she got the distinct impression he’d done just that but with a vastly different outcome than what she’d proposed.

They sat in silence as their heart rates returned to a somewhat normal range. By the time they’d finished their tea, they were back to arguing about just which rifle Double-Oh Four should be issued for her upcoming mission.

An alert pinged on Q’s mobile and they grinned sheepishly at each other.

“Back to it, I suppose. . .”

R collected their empty mugs and made it to the door before Q spoke again, his voice quiet.

“Naima?”

She turned back with a soft smile.

“I’m sorry. I know you would never—“

R nodded, not needing words to assure him that he didn’t need to elaborate further. He returned her smile gratefully.

“Um. . .I wouldn’t say anything if you happened to make a bet, you know. It wouldn’t technically be cheating since you guessed correctly and all.”

R laughed.

“And ruin their fun, sir? Absolutely not. Besides,” she unlocked the office door and opened it, giving him a cheeky smile over her shoulder, “you didn’t actually tell me which one was correct.”

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(i have no idea what this is?? but i hope it’s clear they’re bros) 

#prompt fill #fanfic prompt fill #tropes #trope prompt #mi6-cafe #team00 #agent 0018 #0018 #background 00Q #betting pool #q's real name #quartermaster #q #r #q-branch #q branch #q branch minions #the mystery of q's name #unbeta'd #lille082 writes