#gonna be nice to get a raise while i’m on the apartment prowl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

worldwidemochiguy · 5 years ago

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Finish That Sentence (M)

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Kitten, when I say ‘No’… it isn’t a suggestion.”

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

➵ Warnings: 18+, Yandere Jimin, Smut, Fingering, Oral (m and f receiving), Edging, Penetrative Sex, Daddy kink (oop), Jimin calls you kitten a lot, Slight Degradation

➵ Word Count: 4K

➵ Masterlist

“I’m sorry, what did you just say, kitten?”

You swallowed hard, willing your hands to remain steady as you clenched them by your sides. Don’t give in, you told yourself, stifling the urge to just surrender and beg for mercy. You’re in the right.

“I-I said,” You stammered, flushing when he smirked at your undeniable nerves. You cleared your throat and made another attempt, hoping in the brief time passed since you last opened your mouth you had somehow grown a backbone.

“I said… I want to go out tonight.”

“Oh. Well, of course, kitten.” Jimin replied smoothly, and you knew it had been too easy, you couldn’t relax just yet. “Where do you want me to take you?”

“Actually, um…” You hesitated, and your boyfriend raised a mocking brow.

“Go on, baby, I’m waiting.”

You took a fortifying breath, before letting it all cascade out of you.

“I want to go to a friend’s party and it’s at a club and I don’t want you to come.”

Your breath ran dry. Jimin’s jaw muscles jumped under smooth skin. He rose from where he was reclined on the couch, standing up so that the two of you were eye to eye.

You could see every ounce of restraint weighing down his muscles, slowing his arm to a glacial pace as he tucked his index finger under your chin. But, in those eyes, there was a rage swirling in the depths which you often glimpsed but never submerged yourself in. You wondered if this was the night where you would finally get the chance to drown.

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

“No.”

In that one word were a thousand utterances, a thousand missed opportunities to have fun with your friends who you missed so much, and all because of him. You had rolled over and played dead so many times, but you have had enough.

“Yes.” You snapped, and his eyes widened, in danger of revealing the roiling currents of fury underneath the placid surface.

“Kitten, when I say No… it isn’t a suggestion.”

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

Your back ached as Jimin slammed you against the wall. His hand — which had slipped behind to cradle your head, preventing injury — came down to encircle your throat, while his other busied itself restraining your wrists above your head. You had no choice but to arch into him in discomfort. He pressed his body against yours, revelling in your small whimpers.

“Kitten thinks she calls the shots, huh?” Jimin asked patronisingly, before grinding against you. You thrashed in his hold defiantly, even as a part of you went molten beneath his body heat. “You think you can speak like that? To me?”

“You say worse things to me every- oh!” Your breath hitched as his teeth dug into that sensitive spot below your ear. You felt him smirk against your heated skin, a huff of laughter at your choked moan as he rolled his hips against you once more.

“That’s because I’m in charge, kitten. You’re mine. You have to show me some respect.”

That comment drove you over the edge.

“I’m- you- get off of me!” You shoved him away, making no effort to help him as he stumbled back, eyes hooded and lips swollen from the effort to carve his ownership into the bruises on your neck. Surprisingly, he didn’t attempt to plaster himself on you again. He merely watched as you tugged your shirt back into place, smoothing your hair down with a trembling hand.

“I am not your property.” You stated, annoyance flaring as Jimin chuckled. “I can… I can do what I want. I’m an adult. You can’t just tell me what to do or I swear to god I’ll-”

I’ll break up with you.

The threat had been on the tip of your tongue when his eyes met yours. And there it withered, died, and blew away on the wind. You had been right. Tonight would be the night you drowned in Park Jimin.

His rage was no longer on a leash. It sunk itself into his muscles as he prowled towards you, step by step, until you were voluntarily pressing yourself against the wall in an effort to evade him. He paused a hairsbreadth away from you, close enough to feel the tension of each coiled muscle, pulled taut and waiting to pounce.

“Or you’ll what?” He breathed, and you flinched. The corner of his lips tugged upwards, and a finger trailed delicately along your cheekbone. Soothing the lamb before the slaughter. “C’mon kitten, what’re you gonna do, hmm?”

“I-I… uhm-”

“Go on, finish that sentence.”

His finger tensed, the nail cutting into your skin.

“I…” You hesitated, before closing your eyes and swallowing your pride in one rancid gulp. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. You were right.”

His gaze flickered with satisfaction, but it was not enough to temper the overwhelming wrath which swum in the depths of his dark eyes.

“That’s not what you were going to say, is it, kitten?” He leaned in to run his nose along the column of your throat, making you whimper slightly as he put pressure on the capillaries he had burst with his possessive kisses. “Say what you want to say, like I told you to. It’s okay, I won’t get mad.”

You’re already mad, you would’ve said if his teeth weren’t so close to your jugular.

“I was going to say… that I would… b-break up with you.” You whispered, and his entire body tensed. “B-But I didn’t mean it!” You hastened to add, reaching for his hands and clutching them desperately, “I wouldn’t really break up with you! It was a lie! I’m sorry!”

“Good girls don’t lie.” Jimin replied eventually, his voice devoid of all emotion even as his eyes screamed bloody murder. “You must be mistaken. Good girls don’t lie and I know you’re my good girl.”

“I am your good girl.” You responded frantically, gripping his unresponsive hands as if you could force your sincerity in through skin contact, “I’m your good girl and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I was just being stupid!”

“Well at least you didn’t lie about that.” Jimin looked up at you, eyes twinkling with sardonic satisfaction. “You are stupid if you ever think you could leave me and get away with it.”

The world tilted on its axis and it took you a few moments to realise Jimin had tossed you over his shoulder. You went limp, resigning yourself to the punishments you were bound to endure. Whatever it was, you just had to take it, it would be easier for you that way.

It was difficult to navigate your apartment upside down. It was also unnecessary. You knew where Jimin was taking you. Sure enough, after a few moments of breathless disorientation, Jimin flung you down on your shared bed, remaining at the foot, watching with dark eyes as you tried to rearrange yourself into some semblance of dignity.

“You lied about wanting to leave me.” Jimin’s voice was cutting, like it always was when he found a reason to punish you. And, inexorably, you had to submit to him.

“Yes.”

“But we already know that good girls don’t lie. What does that make you, kitten?”

Your mouth went dry. You knew what he wanted.

“I-I’m a bad girl, Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He repeated, and you belatedly realised your mistake as he strode around the bed and wound a hand in your hair, yanking it back ruthlessly.

“Daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”

“What are you, kitten?” He asked again, and you held back a sob. You liked it so much better when he was kind to you.

“I’m a bad girl, daddy.”

“And what do bad girls deserve?”

“…Bad girls deserve to be punished, daddy.”

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours until the tips of your noses almost brushed. If you had been good, Jimin would have maybe kissed the tip of your nose, making you both giggle. But you hadn’t been good. You had been bad, and now you were being forced to reap what you had sown.

“Do you think you deserve a punishment, kitten?”

No! All you had wanted to do was go out and meet your friends, there was nothing wrong with-

Jimin yanked your hair again and you gasped, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“Y-Yes, I deserve a punishment, daddy.”

“Use your manners, kitten, c’mon. Ask nicely.” He hissed, and you nodded obediently, as much as you could with his grip still painfully tight in your hair.

“Please, daddy, punish me. I’ve been a bad girl. I deserve it. Please.”

“Well done, kitten.”

You resented the fact that you blushed at his praise, something which made him snicker, trailing a hand down your reddened cheeks.

“So eager,” He murmured, cupping your jaw for a second before he shoved you away.

“Hands up,” He commanded, and you slipped into the familiar motions, raising your crossed wrists to the headboard where you knew a pair of restraints were affixed. Jimin made quick work of your hands, electing not to bind your ankles, arranging your body as he wished.

After five minutes, your clothes had been removed whilst Jimin remained fully dressed, gazing at you with dark eyes. He had positioned you sat up against the headboard — to which you were tied — with legs spread wide open for his convenience.

Your cheeks burned as he climbed onto the bed, unable to stop the instinctual clenching of your legs together. He gripped your ankles and ruthlessly tugged them apart again, laughing cruelly as you squirmed.

“Now, now, kitten, don’t move. You look so pretty like this.” He breathed, eyes fixed firmly on your core which, to your embarrassment, was practically dripping on the bedsheets.

“Sorry, daddy.” You whined, twisting your wrists against their ties restlessly, appreciating the slight burn which kept you rooted in reality.

“So polite, baby, aren’t you?” Jimin smirked, still making no move to touch you, “Where were these manners earlier, hmm? Or, is this what you wanted all along?”

“Yes,” You whispered, trying to wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist and tug him closer, to his amusement, “Daddy, please, touch-”

“Oh, baby wants me to touch her?” He laughed at your insistent nod, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” You babbled, sinking fully into the headspace, “I’ll do anything, daddy, I want to such your cock, I want you to fuck me, please, anything-”

Your speech melted into a high-pitched whine as Jimin shoved a finger in you without warning. Though his digits weren’t very long, they were thick, and you could feel each knuckle as his finger sunk into you, stretching you out crudely.

“You’re so wet,” Jimin chuckled, crooking his finger in a way that made you see stars, “God, I could just fuck you right now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, please dadd- ah!” You moaned as Jimin added another finger, scissoring them within you and making you feel so deliciously full.

It must have made quite a sight. Jimin, in slacks and a black button down with the forearms rolled up, viciously pumping his fingers into your naked writhing form, already starting to glisten with sweat.

By the time he added a third finger, you were gone. He kept rubbing insistently over the bundle of nerves within you, and each time his fingers were buried to the hilt, he would roll his thumb on your clit, making you clench tight on him over and over again.

“Jimin, I’m going to- oh please, ah, let me come, daddy, please?”

Jimin hummed, sitting back on his heels as he seemed to mull over the question, all the while pumping his fingers viciously into your tight hole. You tried to roll your hips onto his hand, meeting his thrusts, but he braced his other hand over your hips, pinning you down so you were forced to just lie there helplessly and take whatever he gave you.

“Daddy, I’m-” You started to convulse as you felt the familiar tug at your belly button, the pleasure building within you and about to overflow, and Jimin yanked his fingers out of you abruptly.

You whined as you felt the cool air brush against your empty hole, close to tears as the blinding pleasure of the orgasm dissipated, leaving behind an uncomfortable sensitivity.

“Daddy,” You moaned, kicking your legs petulantly, “I was about to come.”

“Only good girls get to come, kitten.” Jimin stated, and you felt like you were about to cry.

“I am a good girl!”

“Oh, really?” He asked, eyebrow cocked at your pathetic form, lying prone on the bed.

“Yes, I promise, daddy, I’m good.”

“Okay, then.” Jimin murmured, unconvinced, bringing his fingers covered with your slick up to your mouth. “Suck.”

You took them into your mouth obediently, bobbing your head up and down, letting your tongue dart out to lick at his knuckles. He shoved them into your mouth suddenly, and you gagged, but didn’t pull off. He cooed at you as tears began to brim at your eyes.

“Oh, kitten. You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? So eager to have something in your mouth, poor baby.” Jimin cooed, and you whined pitifully around his fingers. “I’m going to untie your wrists now. Is that okay, baby girl?”

You nodded obediently, leaning back as he fiddled with the restraints. He captured your mouth in a filthy kiss as he did so, jamming his tongue into your mouth and twisting it sinuously around yours as if he was trying to taste the arousal you had licked off his fingers.

You let out a groan of relief as your wrists were finally free and Jimin snickered, eyes shining with satisfaction as you rubbed the red marks. He sat back against the headboard, directing you into a position lying on your front between his legs.

“Take my trousers off, baby.” He commanded, and you obeyed quickly, unzipping the slacks and tugging them down. Through his briefs, you could see the bulge of his erection, thick and hard, a slight wet spot where his precome had pressed against the fabric. You flushed with pride at the thought that just fingering you had made him so aroused.

“You have to take off my briefs now, kitten.” Jimin said, almost amused since you had just been staring at his cock for the last minute, trailing your hand up and down his muscular thigh distractedly. At his command, you nodded hurriedly and pulled them off, finally allowing his erection to spring free.

You licked your lips, and Jimin laughed.

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you kitten? What a dirty slut my baby is.”

“Yes,” You mindlessly agreed, “Your baby.”

Jimin took himself into his hand, hissing slightly at the contact, and slapped his cock against your face. You whined, trying to chase it with your mouth, and he finally gave in.

“Okay, open up baby.” He murmured — unnecessary since your mouth was already wide open — taking hold of your jaw with one hand and using the other to feed you his cock.

Immediately, you took him in down to the base, nose brushing against the spare hair as your throat contracted around him frantically, trying to swallow. His fingers wound into your hair tightly, and he began guiding you up and down his length, using your throat as a cocksleeve.

“God, so fucking-” Jimin grunted, dropping his head back as you gagged around him, “So fucking perfect, kitten. My perfect baby slut. Take me so- ungh - so well.”

You moaned around his length, both at the praise and the feel of him, heavy on your tongue.

The knowledge that you were being used to chase Jimin’s selfish release made you slip even further into headspace, where everything was a hazy mess of overwhelming pleasure and stinging pain. You could feel the urge to come, which had cruelly receded as fast as it arrived, slowly flowing back into you.

Jimin braced both legs against the bed bracketing your head, giving no warning before he began thrusting harshly into your throat. He held your head steady as his hips pistoned into you, groaning as you whimpered and spluttered around him, tears running down your flushed face like a river.

You had no chance to breathe, and when you were light-headed enough that you truly thought you were about to faint, Jimin yanked himself out of you. You weren’t allowed to slump against his thigh like you would’ve liked, as Jimin held your face in place as he came, strokes of white decorating your tongue, cheeks and even your forehead.

You stayed there, eyes closed, until Jimin released you and you collapsed against his leg with a gasp. His fingers stroked through your hair distractedly as your and his pants mingled in the heady air.

“So good, baby.” He praised you softly, and you whimpered. “Do you want daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes, please, daddy.” You begged, excitement starting to reenergise you as Jimin tugged you up the bed.

“Such a polite little girl,” He mused, smiling as he watched you shuffle into place, lazily unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside.

“You’re my baby girl, right, kitten?” Jimin purred, and you echoed back mindlessly.

“Yours, daddy, your good girl.”

Jimin swiped a finger through the still-wet come on your face, lifting it again to your swollen lips.

“Suck, but don’t swallow.” He instructed you firmly, and you nodded, eagerly taking the finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the familiar bitter taste.

Once Jimin had fed you all the come that had lingered on your face, he leaned in for a filthy kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, collecting all the come he had made you keep like some sort of pet. As soon as he pulled away, leaving you breathless, he shot you a cocky smirk — even with his mouth full — and lurched down to your core.

He fucked you with his tongue, spearing the muscle with sharp motions, drawing out a truly unholy sound as he spat back his own come into you. The feel of it, wet and filthy and degrading, made you clench around thin air. Though, Jimin soon remedied that. He plunged two fingers back into you down to the last knuckle, leaning up slightly to suck your clit.

“Ah, fuck, daddy!” You cried, back arching as Jimin added another finger just as he laved his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “P-Please, oh, fuck me, please.”

“You like that?” Jimin purred, his lips glazed with your slick and come, “You like being daddy’s little cumslut? My own personal fuckdoll?”

At his crude words, Jimin shoved another finger into you, meaning he was pumping almost his whole hand into your tight hole as you moaned and cried. Tears were running down your face from the stimulation, but Jimin just didn’t let up.

“Yes, I’m- ah, I’m your fuckdoll! Daddy, please, m’gonna, oh, m’gonna come.”

Jimin pulled his mouth away from you to give your core a sharp spank. You jerked away from him, but couldn’t put up much resistance when he tugged you back.

“You aren’t going to come unless it’s on my cock, understand, kitten?”

You whimpered pitifully, and his voice softened.

“Does my angel want to be fucked now?”

“Yes,’ You sobbed, clutching at him desperately, trying to pull him up, “Please, daddy, I’m- m’your angel, please.”

“Okay, kitten.” He smiled at you benevolently, wiping his slick-covered face on the bedsheet before pushing himself up on his forearms and crawling up the bed to you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as soon as you could, tugging him close until your rapidly rising chests were touching. He captured you in a kiss, slanting his mouth against yours in a way that made your toes curl, swiping his tongue into you possessively. You gave into him with ease.

When you felt his head nudge at your entrance, you whimpered against his mouth, but instead of rejoining your lips like you had expected, Jimin pulled away completely. Ignoring your protests, he sat himself up on his knees, lifting your hips until they rested on the top of his thighs.

He gripped you firmly, stopping you from any attempt to roll your hips, so his cock was infuriatingly just out of reach, though every so often he would shift and the forehead would brush your clit, making you moan pathetically.

“Daddy,” You whimpered, so close to release and yet so far, “Please, fuck me. Please.”

“You’ll never say anything like that again, right baby?” Though his voice was soft, his eyes were merciless as they watched you writhe in desperation.

“Say what? Daddy, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re… just- please-”

“You’ll never disobey me.” He stated, and you shook your head fervently.

“Never, I promise!”

“You’ll never ask to go to a club without me.”

“I won’t! I don’t want to go anywhere without you daddy, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll never…” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly as he repeated, “You’ll never threaten to break up with me.”

You gasped, the arousal building in you becoming more painful by the second.

“I won’t! I won’t! I’m yours, daddy, only yours!”

Jimin smiled.

“There’s my good girl.”

When he rolled his hips into you, you saw stars.

He was so thick, filling you so completely. He picked up your hips and started pounding into you right away, thigh muscles bunching as he shoved himself into your tight heat over and over again.

“Feel so good around my cock, baby.” He grunted, hands painfully tight on your hips. You hoped he left bruises, “So perfect, you were made for me. Made to take my come, like a good little slut.”

“M’your slut,” You babbled, mouth hanging open as Jimin fucked you brutally, “Please, daddy, touch-”

“Of course, baby.” Jimin murmured, moving his thumb inwards slightly to press against your clit as his cock stretched you out.

“I’m- daddy, can I- oh, can I please come?” Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jimin angled your hips slightly different and began a volley of thrusts that battered directly against that spot that made red-hot pleasure coil in your gut, “Please, I wanna come on your cock, wanna be yours, daddy please.”

“Such a good girl,” Jimin groaned, falling onto his forearms and grinding his cock into you, “Yes, go on, baby, come. Come on daddy’s cock.”

At his permission, you let yourself go, writhing on him as your vision blanked out. He rode through your orgasm, pressing his cock into you in slow, maddening circles before letting his own come spill into you as well.

The two of you collapsed against the bed, uncaring of how sweaty and gross you were, simply panting to get your breath back.

“Jimin?” You managed to get out, and he propped his chin up on your chest, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face.

“I- You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

“The break up thing?” He questioned, as if it could be anything else, and you nodded. A little huff of laughter brushed your chin.

“Well, that’s good to hear, baby, but I know you didn’t. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“It wouldn’t?” You asked, and a devilish smirk painted itself across his features.

“No matter what you say or try to do, I’ll never let you get away from me.”

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mirrerover · 4 years ago

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Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks.

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could.

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all.

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre.

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare.

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now.

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

----------------------

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

#jaydick #jaydick-flashfic #jaydick-flashfic: big plans #jason todd #dick grayson #mirre writes

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swallowtailed · 4 years ago

Text

the unsleeping museum: part A

written for the Dimension 20 Alphabet @dimension20alphabet event! prompt: audience. it’s a night at the museum au!!

The saber-toothed tiger skeleton bounds across the atrium, leaps over a plinth, and lands in front of them with a crash. Pete and Sofia slam to a halt. Maybe they could run back into the museum, but—Pete glances back and spots a flash of a monkey’s tail in the shadowed hallway—he’s gonna take his chances closer to the front door. If a tiger skeleton doesn’t eat him first.

The skeleton prowls closer to them, nails clicking on the floor. It comes up to Pete’s shoulder, easy, and its fangs are a foot long each. Sofia raises her fists. Pete holds his flashlight like a baseball bat and thinks about microdosing, just so he doesn’t die sober. The skeleton’s jaw swings open with the sepulchral creak of bone on bone.

And then a booming voice bursts out of its hollow jaws, and it says, “You must be the new night guards! Hello! My name is Orlando, and this—” the other skeleton trots over—“is my boyfriend, Rovias.” They nuzzle their heads together, fangs clacking.

“Uh huh. Hi, nice to meet you,” Sofia says, with the tone of someone who figures this might as well just happen. “I’m Sofia L—uh, Bicicleta.”

“Pete the Plug,” Pete says. “Hey.”

“A pleasure!” Rovias says. “We are the guardians of the Unsleeping Museum, also known as the American Museum of Natural History, but really it is the Unsleeping Museum! Welcome! Has anyone shown you around?”

“Kingston just told us to wait in the rotunda until sunset,” Pete says.

“Well go on, explore!” Orlando says. “Have fun! You’ve got a lot of people to meet. Everything in this museum comes alive at sunset, you know.”

Pete looks over at Sofia, who looks back at him with an expression that says that she’s also thinking that Kingston could’ve, maybe, mentioned that. At literally any time.

“Oh!” Rovias says, and nudges Orlando, looking past Pete and Sofia. “Look! Another new person! We weren’t expecting anyone else, were we?”

Pete turns around. Behind them, a man who looks like he walked right out of a Hot Topic is standing in the hallway in a gift shop uniform shirt. “What... the fuck,” the man says. “Is this place fucking haunted? Is this a haunted museum?”

“That depends on your definition of haunted!” Orlando says.

“I am Rovias,” Rovias continues, “and this is my boyfriend, Orlando. What is your name?”

“Uh, Cody Walsh, but you can call me Night Angel. I work at the gift shop? I was just closing, and like, it took a while cause this is my first day? And then I got chased by a lion?”

“Weird name,” Rovias says. “But welcome to you, too!”

“Now go take a look around!” Orlando says. “We will guard the atrium. Go on!”

“Thanks?” Sofia says.

“Say nothing of it,” Rovias tells her cheerfully.

The three of them cluster together and slink deeper into the museum, because it doesn’t feel like there’s anything else they can do. It’s still sort of the opposite direction of the way Pete wants to go, but sue him, he’s kinda curious. He’s never actually been to the museum—he only moved to New York City last year, and his job doesn’t really take him to museums. So maybe it’ll be interesting. As long as they don’t run into that monkey again.

They speedwalk around some corners and down a flight of stairs. The rooms are half-lit with stage lights that stain their multiplied shadows blue and violet. Most of the exhibits Pete glimpses are behind glass, but they’re all moving, and things keep twitching in the shadows. Cody is muttering something about swords. Sofia still has her hands in fists, like she’s going to punch a skeleton. Pete doesn’t know what would happen if someone punched a skeleton. Would it just kind of fall apart? Or would it stick together because it’s only bones?

They come to a stop in a darker corner and huddle together to talk. “So this is cool as fuck, right?” Cody says. “Everything comes alive at night? That’s super fucking cool, man. Like, not what I expected for my first closing shift at the gift shop, but it’s still cool.”

The wall next to them clicks a little. Pete looks up and sees—okay, that’s way too many legs—a glass case full of crabs all skittering against the pane. Above their heads, a jellyfish as long as a bus waves its tendrils lazily. There’s a deep, undulating hum in the air.

“We’re supposed to be night guards,” Sofia says. “For the exhibits, I think? Kingston said not to...”

“Not let anything in or out,” Pete agrees. “Yeah, in hindsight that was kinda weird.” Also, he’s still about twenty percent sure that someone is going to ask him to sell any minute now, so this can go back to being a basically normal night. Based on the want ad, he thought he was going to a weird rave.

“How are they doing this?” Sofia wonders. The exhibits rustle quietly around them. Footsteps pad across the stone floor several rooms away. “Is it robots or something? AI?”

“No, dude, it’s magic,” Cody says. “The museum’s fucking cursed, I bet. Unquiet spirits and shit.”

The footsteps continue, under that odd hum. They’re a little louder, actually, and a little bit faster. “Uh, do you guys hear that?” Pete asks. “The footsteps?”

Sofia and Cody stop and listen. “What is that?” Cody wonders.

Okay, the footsteps are definitely getting closer. “C’mon, let’s go,” Pete says, and runs for the nearest doorway in the other direction.

He emerges into a vast space bathed in blue light. There’s a walkway around the edge, but the room plunges down to another floor below. Glass-paned dioramas of flowing resin water line the walls, full of darting fish and birds, dolphins splashing in pods, and, in one darkened corner, a thrash of massive tentacles. And in the middle of it all, suspended from the ceiling as though swimming in midair, is a gigantic whale, singing a rolling, sea-deep song.

“Whoa,” Sofia whispers.

The song cuts off, and the whale’s truck-sized head swings around to face them, throwing its massive shadow across the walls and floor. “Holy shit!” it says, in a voice that reverberates through the room. “Look at that! You’re a long way from home, huh?”

“Uh,” Cody says.

“Wow,” Pete says.

“There you are!” a voice calls, and, realizing they have an audience, they all scramble to turn around. Kingston is standing in the hallway behind them, holding a thermos in one hand and a stack of brochures in the other. “I hear you met Orlando and Rovias, so I won’t be the first to say it, but...” He gestures expansively, grinning. “Welcome to the Unsleeping Museum!”

(this has been part A! find the rest of the ficlets in this au here!)

#my fic #hello world #web: d20 #the unsleeping city #the unsleeping museum au #d20alphabet21 #featuring my FAVORITE exhibit at amnh. the hall of ocean life is so cool

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pastelgrungewrecker · 4 years ago

Text

“Uncle Jesse”

“She’s always had it.”, said Perceptor nonchalantly as Drift frowned in concern, “That’s why her glasses are so bloody thick, poor thing. I figured she just inherited my terrible eyesight, and acted accordingly.”

“Perce, her pupils are narrowing.”

“We’re all genetic anomalies in this house- that’s what happens after a war that used genetic experimentation.”

Mimi rubbed at her eyes, sighing heavily as she slowly got to her feet and shuffled into the bathroom- where her father was combing a familiar product through his now-white hair.

“S’wrong kiddo?”, he rumbled tiredly, instinctively leaning over to check her pale roots and frown, “C’mere, you need this too.”

“Mm. Head hurts, eyes aren’t being nice to me again.”, she sighed, “Might just shut off the overhead light and just use the candles for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah... Pfffft, all these years and I’ve never NOT had my contacts in. I forgot it wasn’t as obvious when we finally met, and I had glasses.”

She shuffled around in the drawer, pulling out her contacts case and setting it on the counter. He moved away, looking over his shoulder as he started the bathtub tap running to rinse his hair.

She leaned close to the mirror, on her tiptoes, and used one hand to hold her eyelids open to take out her... contact lenses.

He tilted his head, the water gurgling as it ran. First one came out, then the other, and she blinked as her eyes watered. The contacts didn’t seem very flexible- and seemed wider than ones he’d seen other people using- but what stood out was they had a pattern. Nothing odd, just colored and shaped to look like a normal pupil and iris.

“See?”

He nearly screamed when she looked at him.

Her pupils were narrowed- slightly peaked on the top and bottom like a tomcat’s eyes; and they flickered in the light as the angle changed with her movement.

��I know, it’s weird. But.”

He collected himself quickly, huffing before glancing at the bottle he left open on the counter.

“Yeah, we all have odd traits. Now comb some’a that through your hair Mimi- Your roots are dry and whiting out faster.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuugh but it SMELLS WEIRD-”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

“Perce, her pupils are narrowing.”

“We’re all genetic anomalies in this house- that’s what happens after a war that used genetic experimentation.”

“Perce.”

“Drift, what is it that’s really bothering you?”

“.......... Look, there’s uh. There’s something I.... May need to tell the family, okay?”

Perceptor looked suddenly concerned, his natural pout turning into a sharp frown, “....Does this have to do with the... strange warrants you’ve been getting every so often the past few years?”

“....Yeah.”

“Drift. Talk to me.”

“Look, just. Tell everyone there’s a family meeting this weekend, okay?”

Perceptor jolted, blinking rapidly before settling, “...Alright. This isn’t something I’m gooing to want to commit a warcrime against you for, is it?”

“I really fuckin’ hope not.”

“Not helping.”

The days came and went. Whirl was suspicious immediately, in his own way- growling and near-hissing in owlet tones when he’d catch Drift pacing with phone in hand, the case creaking in his grip.

On Saturday morning, there was a heavy knock on the door. Drift stood up, exhaling slowly and meekly as he hustled to the door to tug it open just a crack. Magnus’s voice rumbled through.

“I’m considering this the... final favor.”

“Yeah, yeah. All is forgiven, whatever, just...”, a sigh, “He’s clean, right?”

“Mhm. Been out of facility for almost a year, monthly mandatories as well as surprise tests. He despises it, and is suspicious of you.”

“He’s gonna be a whole lot more than suspicious after this.”

“You know how it is, sponsorship.”

“Yeah, let him out then; he deserves his dignity.”

Cyclonus moved quickly when the sound of a heavy truck door opening sounded from outside and Drift pulled the door open wide. The tallest, and arguably eldest, of the many parents stood protectively in front of the youngest of the brood as Drift turned around.

“...I was never actually Deadlock.”, he said quietly, “...Well, I kind of was, but not often.”

“We know you had a change of heart, hippy-”, began Whirl.

“ACTUALLY, sonofashrike, he jus’ had a terrible messiah complex.”

The family stared, Mimi most of all as they heard That Voice, but Drift’s mouth didn’t move. He took a step to the side and allowed the man behind him to step through the door.

A tired wave.

“Well, looks like my brother did damn well for ‘imself. Since this is a first meetin’, hi. I’m Deadlock- Drift’s older brother.”

Drift swallowed hard, “We’re. We’re twins. three minutes apart.”

There was a thud. Ratchet scrambled to his feet, Brainstorm swore loudly, and Mimi groaned as her head gently hit the table.

Perceptor lay sprawled on the floor, out cold and skin sallow from the blood rushing away too fast for him to take after his morning coffee.

Deadlock shut the door silently behind him, boots heavy on the floor as Drift winced weakly at Perceptor’s reaction. Whirl wheezed a breath as Cyclonus’s face darkened.

“All these years, Drift. ALL THESE YEARS AND HE WAS A DAMNED TWIN.”

“Look, it’s complicated-”

“He wasn’t allowed to tell.”, said Deadlock flatly, reaching into his pocket for a crinkled cardboard pack, “It was... part of our deal.”

“DEAL?!”

“Yep. I turned myself in and... disappeared. Suddenly, I ‘defected’, major morale blow to the Cons, blah blah blah.”

“Continue.”, said Brainstorm, trying desperately to grind his teeth as Ratchet knelt, patting Perceptor’s cheeks and gently rousing him back to the land of the conscious.

“He turned himself in because I was being used as leverage.”, sighed Drift, “They threatened to hold me accountable for Deadlock’s... acts. Said I’d be charged as an accomplice because they ‘couldn’t truly prove’ that Deadlock did it and not me.”

“Textbook political manipulation.”, muttered Whirl, “Bet it was fuckin’ Prowl too, self-important tit-for-brains.”

“Eyup.”, said Deadlock, “But uh, I heard that the old family trait is here in the family? So which neicey or neph has it?”

“Has what?”, asked Mimi, her interest piqued.

“The eyes. Drift doesn’t have it as bad, y’see- but I do. ‘S part of why I was real effective at night operations.”

He walked forward, slow and cautious and with a too-sweet smelling cigarette between his lips. Cyclonus growled, low in his chest, and Deadlock raised his hands- slowly lowering them to reach into his pockets wtih two fingers and turn them briefly inside out.

“Don’t worry- I had good handlers; even if my sponsor’s a fuckin’ twat-”

“I should have absorbed you in the womb, brother.”

“Not the first time you didn’t think ahead, baby bro.”

Deadlock continued forward, stopping at the table they all sat around and leaning down, using one hand to hold open his eyelids- showing the catlike pupils surrounded by gold.

“See?”

“Gold...”, murmured Perceptor before straightening in the chair Ratchet had managed to help into, “Gold, of course- Mimi’s eyes are such a bright green, and my line was... cultivated to a degree...”

“So it’s Mimi? Which one’s Mimi?”

“Me.”, she said weakly, “I’m Mimi- and uhm.”

Drift sighed, “That’s why I looked at you so odd, kiddo. You and your uncle have the same eyes. It’s... a weird hiccup we both have.”

Deadlock looked down.

Brainstorm tilted his head, “Something that.. that RARE would be easy to trace, to find, to-”

“It was.”, said Deadlock quietly, “It’s part of why we were Dead End kids.”

Drift sighed, stepping forward, “The big... thing today wasn’t just Deadlock. Those ‘weird warrants’, Percy? That’s... That’s not what they are.”

“Then... what were they? They were obviously legal documents-”

“They were I’m-Sorry-Shut-Up money.”, said Deadlock flatly, “Drift here, an’ me, ain’t young y’know. We’re actually a bit older’n Megatron, dickhead he was. Ratchet’s not much older’n we are, after all. Our hair loses color early is all.”

Drift nodded, “The letters were parts of a payout- money I’m being given as... basically a ‘please don’t tell’ kind of thing from what remains of the powerstructure. Cause... Y’see. Dead End was pretty much... well...”

“It was a damn experiment, Drift, jus’ say it. Primus fuckin’ sakes.”, snapped Deadlock, “We’re reject babies. The result of the beginning of the genetic cult’vation projects. The ones that were preferred were given back to their families, the ones that weren’t were shoved in the system an’ reported as dead.”

Brainstorm’s eyes widened, and Perceptor put a hand over his mouth. Whirl’s jaw dropped slightly and Ratchet’s cheeks brightened with his temper.

“Birth-giver was a senatorial aide.”, said Drift quietly, “Donor parent was a senator. It’s all we really know.”

“So, onta the Big Reveal.”, said Deadlock easily, “Other than, y’know. Surprise, it’s an uncle.”

Drift winced, “Well, Uh- I’m...”, another sigh, “I’m Deadlock’s sponsor. For his rehabilitation. Have been for a long while now, and. Well...”

“I’m out of the facility, and they don’t think I’m a risk for relapse currently; but they don’t want me in an unfamiliar area or without support.”

Perceptor raised both of his eyebrows, “The condos on the edge of Metro. You have one, I’m guessing.”

“On the money, honey.”

“Do not.”

“Calm down baby bro.”

Deadlock still winked at Perceptor, exaggerated and almost silly if not for the severity of his profile- Jagged edges where Drift was worn smooth, scars unfaded and layered and the hint of old tattoos peeking out from under the longsleeve shirt he wore.

Perceptor spluttered for a moment, falling awkwardly silent as Brainstorm stared at him in affectionate disgust.

“It’ll be a slow introduction, honest- He’s better in moderation, like most bitter things-”

“Ow, rude.”

“But... I figured that it was better sooner than later to introduce everyone...”

“And th’last thing you needed was for your kids to see my white fuckin’ hair and think it was you at a gas station.”

“Oh my GOD will you shut up.”

“Mmmmmmnah.”

Mimi snorted, starting to cackle as her siblings just stared from the pair to her and back again.

“Oh my god, they’re just two cheeks of the same ass!”, exclaimed Dani, before Ratchet choked on a scold about her language.

The brother’s stared in mirrored offended alarm, before falling back to immediate bickering.

#fankids #humanformers #pastelwrites

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silver-wield · 5 years ago

Text

FF7R: The Cloud Narrative

While in the middle of one of my replays that involved making different choices for Cloud to get other stuff, I started thinking, “What would Cloud choose?”

And that got me thinking some more about the fact we say it's all what Cloud would choose, but really, it's what we pick to get the best story that suits our preferences.

And since I'm that kind of dork, I decided to replay and let Cloud's personality and development lead me to make the choices so I could try and see what Cloud would've chosen if he had autonomy. It makes for a slightly different game than the one I usually play, but it was fun really thinking over the options and deciding how Cloud would react to every situation and whether he'd choose to engage with it or not.

I didn't actually remember to grab every screenshot of my playthrough, so some of these are from Youtube, but the decisions I say I made are the ones I made because why would I lie?

Ok, let's mosey...

Spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be long.

The opening decision is in Chapter 2 when we first meet Aerith. None of these decisions affect anything within the game to do with the resolution, it just makes either girl react differently to Cloud.

I'm sure some people would argue he'd buy it because Aerith, but he doesn't know her, has no obligation to be nice to her – especially compared to the Avalanche crew who he needed to rely on back in the reactor and he was a dick to them – he's in a rush and has no reason to buy flowers unless people want to assume he already had Tifa in mind the moment Aerith mentioned it. If we do choose the option to buy it right away, Aerith flirts a little and slots the flower into Cloud's shoulder strap over his heart. We get none of the extended dialogue if we choose this option. For those people who say the more someone talks is a sign of canon, this would make the “how much” option the non-canon choice because it contains the least amount of dialogue and time they spend together.

If we choose “I'm good,” then we hear Aerith insisting he takes it by saying, “When was the last time you saw a real one,” and adding that “it'll make your girlfriend's day.”

Then we get the automatic line from Cloud that happened when we originally chose “how much.”

After some more dialogue from Aerith another choice occurs, one which can make Cloud sound like a royal shitbag or not.

I think everyone would agree that Cloud purposely pissing off a total stranger is out of character, and if you choose the second option he doesn't actually speak and Aerith goes straight into her line about how “lovers used to give these when they were reunited.”

For my choices as Cloud I said, “I'm good,” and then when she insisted, I agreed to take it because to me – and this is how I always answer – it feels the most Cloud kind of answer.

Chapter 3

The next choice Cloud's presented with is during chapter 3 when Tifa offers him a drink. No matter which choice you make he calls Tifa beautiful as the outcome.

By answering “something hard” Tifa goes into her cocktail making routine before pouring Cloud a drink that looks suspiciously like piss, but is actually meant to represent the colour of his hair. Hard and bitter. Like him. He doesn't like it. Colour me shocked. She then goes on to make the red drink that's a representation of her eye colour. This is when Cloud raises the glass and makes the “beautiful” comment.

If you choose the refuse option, Tifa replies that “if you were in the mood” and then goes into the same drinks making routine as the first option, with the exact same dialogue and outcome between them. (And now I know it's almost identical I wonder why the devs did it? It seems like a straw man option tbf. There's no real choice or changes to the dialogue and it's like it's been put there to give the illusion of it being optional).

Since Cloud is secretly into Tifa I figured he'd choose “something hard and bitter” as a way to try and show off how tough he is. However, it’s worth noting that Cloud isn’t a big drinker and only drinks when he’s in a low mood. He’s pretty happy here, so I’d say in general he wouldn’t drink, but because he’s only recently reunited with Tifa he still wants to impress her. So yeah, to drink.

The next chance for Cloud to have a choice concerns the chapter 3 side quests that open up the alone at last which goes towards choosing a dress for Tifa later in chapter 9. If you don't finish the quests or miss alone at last you always get Tifa's blue dress and moon charm earring. That is her canon outfit.

The quests for chapter 3 are all monster related apart from one – which I'll get to in a minute.

Chadley's report involves scanning monsters for data and killing them. Rat problem comes from the item vendor and involves killing doomrats.

Nuisance in the factory involves killing drakes.

On the prowl involves going after a shinra dog thing

Just flew in from the graveyard involves a larger drake.

These are all the type of job that Cloud would accept without thinking about it too much. He's a merc, he's getting paid to kill monsters. It'll show off his skills and build his rep and as Tifa says, the better his rep the more he gets paid. These five quests are ones Cloud would take because that's the type of person he thinks he should be. The monster slayer.

As for quest 4, lost friends, I initially said that Cloud would avoid this because it involves two things he isn't good with: kids and animals. Now, I've heard from people that by AC Cloud is actually pretty good around kids, and I agree, he's got a lot of love from them by this point. But that's at least two years away from now and he's not even slightly good around kids and actively avoids them. Cats seem to have a grudge against him, too, at this point in the game – though Wedge's cat mellows towards him after he helps out. These were my reasons for deciding to avoid this quest because Cloud just wouldn't do it. Then, once I got to it, I realised the reason why Cloud would do it.

Tifa.

Tifa likes kids and animals. Now, as a respectful type of girl, she doesn't usually push Cloud to do things he doesn't want to. She's always considerate to his feelings and to others too. In this case, though, she's not focused on Cloud and if he'd want to do this job, but on helping out a little girl. Cloud's been running around doing jobs all morning, so Tifa's related him to the task of finding the cats.

Usually Cloud would refuse to something that's so obviously beneath his skills, but because it's Tifa who's asking, he agrees.

Alone at last triggers and we get to view a moment between Cloud and Tifa that ends in him choosing a dress for her. Alone as last is narrative canon whether we choose to see it or not because of other hints in the game that refer back to the conversation they had. While they talk about the past we get an above view of the rug that has a reunion flower pattern on it. Tifa and Cloud both take steps towards each other during this scene, which symbolises their closing the emotional distance that's between them.

This choice changes nothing about the game and only matters if you want to go for the dressed to the nines achievement.

If you choose the top option – for her canon outfit, Tifa replies “Yeah, I guess we aren't kids anymore.” If you choose the second option she says, “That's not much different to my regular style.”

If you choose the exotic outfit she says, “really?” and acts a little awkward about it.

She then asks Cloud to dress to match her. The dresses he wears during wall market all have a similar style to Tifa's options, showing he did dress to match her. The narrative canon choice for which dress Cloud eventually went with is something I'll be bringing up later.

By choosing the canon outfit option and getting Tifa's canon dialogue we get a reference to the fact they've known each other for a long time. This ties into the conversation they had which also touched on their shared history. This is a background development scene between them, but isn't necessary to know because we get other info about them over the rest of the game. This extra bit of dialogue is to increase our knowledge of Cloud and Tifa, both separately and together.

Chapter Four

Jessie’s bike ride, which isn’t optional in the sense you can choose how it goes. The result depends on how good you are at the minigame. However, since there’s three endings, this is a choice based result.

Are you, Cloud? Really? When did you get that SOLDIER mandatory training? Of the three optional endings, the narrative canon that makes the most sense is Cloud being really bad at it. This is his first time doing any of that, but it gives him the crash course he needs for later in the Shinra building when he does all those fancy moves. Cloud owes Roche some props for observational bike stunting.

Chapter Five

And our next canon narrative choice is between making Cloud look incompetent at his job or choosing to have an intimate moment with his one true love. Well, seeing how the cloti roll is in the ultimania we know this is the correct narrative choice.

Chapter 8

There's a long gap between chapter 5 and the next option we get for Cloud. Once we meet Aerith again and get her back to Sector 5, we go into her side quests and optional discovery. Aerith's side quests are tied to what dress she later wears during chapter 9.

The side quests for Aerith's chapter are split into groups of 3. This means that by unlocking one, you get the further quests on that branch. One branch is more of a Cloud oriented style set of quests, while the other involves the thing he doesn't do well around: kids.

Kids on patrol → A verified hero + Angel of the slums

Weapons on a rampage → Paying respects + moogle merchant.

If you don't complete kids on patrol first then the other two don't unlock. One of these further quests involves more kids and playing with them. Not really Cloud type activities and unlike with chapter 3 where he'd do something because Tifa asked, he's not got that type of relationship with Aerith that he'd be willing to do stuff that he doesn't want to just to impress her.

Breakdown of sidequests in sector 5 and NPC background dialogues.

Weapons on a rampage is more his style of quest, which leads to the NPC who set it to ask a further favour. This links to the next quest where you have to pay respects for the old man. The thing is, he doesn't have the graveyard key, which leads to the next quest where we have to go buy it off Moggie. This is the only kid related quest on this branch and it's over in moments. Cloud has the minimum amount of contact with Moggie and doesn't show any kind of tolerance towards her while he's talking. There's also no apology for his behaviour – unlike when he said to Tifa he was doing his best when she scolded him for being rude.

The way these quests are set out in blocks of three and the fact one half is heavily reliant on child interaction – which Cloud wouldn't do at this point in his development or association with Aerith – leads me to believe he wouldn't agree to these quests. This means the language of flowers discovery doesn't trigger and Aerith ends up in her second option dress – which I've theorised is her canon outfit because of its design similarity to the OG version, her reaction to the dress, the fact that in OG, Aerith chose her own dress, the hairstyle and accessory match the OG style and Cloud's reaction is a very Cloud reaction to have, compared to the other two outfits – the bad dress has dogs and rats following her and the red dress is so ott she's swarmed by fans, a red carpet and so on, but also her accessories don't fit her symbolism theme of flowers because she's wearing stars.

With all of the above in mind, I surmised Cloud would do the monster hunt branch of quests and quit while he was ahead.

Chapter 9

Where before we had a few choices happening, once we hit Wall Market we're inundated with options that affect Cloud's outfit later on. They also showcase what kind of morals Cloud has. Either way, it's canonically easier to get Chocobo Sam's pts higher than Madam M's, leading me to believe he is the canon narrative choice for this section and that Cloud's black and blue corset dress is the one he ends up wearing.

This contradicts my previous theory about the ultimania in which Cloud is shown very uncomfortable in the loli outfit, which led me to believe that was the one he ended up in if he made the choices in Wall Market. I now believe it's because if you pick this outfit it's his “bad ending”, worse than if you don't make any effort and get the plain black and grey dress.

The maximum amount of pts you can get from Chocobo Sam's options is 6.5, compared to Madam M's 5.

There are several people who offer you options during Wall Market.

The love hotel owner (not a Nojima self-insert lol).

Johnny (discovery) + before the first coloseum match – there's a bottle on the table and the choice is to drink or not.

Madam M x2

Sam x2

The first option you get in Wall Market happens before you've even entered the place. Sam asks you what the girl you're searching for looks like. No matter which option you choose, Sam says that Cloud has a crush on Tifa – which he doesn't deny.

If you choose the first option you get 1pt with Sam.

If you choose the second option you get 0pts

If you choose the 3rd option you get 1pt with Madam M.

I chose the first option because Cloud's a guy, with eyes, and the other two choices don't offer anything in the way of a physical description and if he's describing her to someone then he needs to actually describe what she looks like in some way. This is the only option that does that. It's also the only option that gets a different reaction out of Aerith, whereas the other two options have the same reaction from her.

This is the second option we can choose from and it's the love hotel guy (still not a Nojima self-insert). If you choose “no thanks,” this gets you 1pt with Sam and Aerith flirts with Cloud.

If you choose “how much?” you get a surprised “Cloud!” from Aerith and 1pt with Madam M.

If you choose “back off” you get 0pts and Aerith apologises on his behalf.

Of the 3 choices, I picked “back off” because it's the most Cloud appropriate choice.

Next, we have the Johnny discovery when he literally runs past you as you try to go to Don Corneo's for the first time. By following him to the Honey Bee, we get a lecherous dialogue from him and then a question about Cloud's own preferences. Would he go into the Honey Bee? If he agrees with Johnny, we get a slightly self-loathing assumption of a reply, whereas if we disagree, Johnny says that Cloud hasn't experienced anything yet. Either way, he runs off once he's finished.

By agreeing with Johnny you get 1pt for Sam.

If you don't agree you get 0pts.

I chose to disagree because Cloud isn't a lecherous pig and is actually pure af with no experience.

We learn from Leslie that the only way to get into an audition with Corneo is through the trio. Andrea Rhodea has a 3 year waiting list, so we don't even see him. So, we go back to Sam.

This is a hint that the following event with Sam is a load of bull. Johnny telling Cloud – if you interact with him – that he should've followed his gut is a hint that Cloud should trust his instincts. It’s also confirming that while Cloud is a total cheapskate who doesn’t do anything for free, he’s also a betting man who’ll think little of dropping 1000g on a sure thing (why 1000g? because that’s the amount he says to Barret in chapter 6, showing that while Cloud appreciates having money, he’ll also spend it.) Then it's around the corner to where Sam waits. Who, despite having already endorsed Tifa, says he's willing to help Aerith if she can guess the result of a coin toss.

Ofc it's rigged. But if you choose to gamble, it impresses Sam. You get 1.5 pts for choosing heads or tails. If you refuse to gamble then you get 0.5pts.

I believe the narrative choice is to pick heads, like Johnny suggested because he is the inner voice of Cloud and gives us hints as to real Cloud’s feelings at different points in the game. Either way, Cloud gets the coin and says he had a hunch about the result.

After this it's away to Madam M's and the most hilarious choice I've ever seen! I have to wait until the room's clear before choosing because it's a watch from behind a cushion moment lol

Madam M won't help Cloud unless he agrees to a massage. Since our SOLDIER boi doesn't like being forced into decisions and has issues around touch and intimacy, not to mention he's stingy af and wouldn't drop 3k on a massage when he's previously hounded people for a lot less money. But, he also doesn’t stop to think about spending money if it’s worth this while. 1000g doesn’t seem like much of a big deal to him, if it’s his standard amount of bet on a sure thing. He wants to save Tifa, so he’d likely go with the standard course. The other one alludes to him being a cheapskate like Aerith accused and there’s no reference to the luxury course anywhere in the game except here. This isn't something he's doing for pleasure, he's in Wall Market to save Tifa, so the things he's doing are a means to an end.

If you pick the luxury massage you get 2pts with Madam M.

If you pick the standard massage you get 1pt with Madam M

If you pick the poor man's massage you get 0pts.

I chose the standard course massage because I believe that's what Cloud would choose just to get Madam M to agree to help them.

The next choice comes right off the back of the massage at Madam M's and involves Cloud giving an opinion of Aerith's outfit.

If you choose the first option it gets you 1pt with Sam and a pleased reaction from Aerith.

If you choose the second option you get 0pts and an angry retort from Aerith.

If you choose the third option you get 1pt with Madam M and a middle of the road comment from Aerith. No matter which you choose, Madam M scolds you.

Since by this point in the game Cloud and Aerith are friendly enough for him to pass comment on her outfit, I could see him answering with the second choice, but not the first since he doesn't even notice what anyone's wearing let alone have an opinion on it. The third option sounds the most Cloud-centric choice, so that's what I picked.

The last option is for Cloud to drink an unknown substance or not while waiting for his match to start at the coliseum. Johnny gives the explanation of what it is, who it came from and what it potentially does.

By choosing to drink the mystery substance you get 1pt with Sam.

By ignoring the drink you get 0pts.

Since Cloud is the last person to put weird shit in his body I went with not drinking it.

The final tally for the options that Cloud gets set him on Chocobo Sam's side quests for the blue corset dress that matches Tifa's canon outfit – she said dress to match, remember? It's also the one that in the ultimania Cloud looks the most at ease in.

Chocobo Sam's sidequests are the ones that I got as a result of choosing the options I did. I believe this is the canon narrative that Cloud would take if he were choosing. After several playthroughs I did waver on whose quests seemed more the narrative canon. I began thinking Sam's were, but then the ultimania illustration of Cloud embarrassed in the satin dress led me to think Madam M's were the narrative canon. After playing both sets of side quests, I've come to the conclusion that Sam's would be the narrative choice if Cloud were making the decisions.

Having Cloud's choices result in Sam's side quests we get burning thighs (appears in both), the party never stops and a dynamite body.

Burning thighs is the squats contest that echoes the OG storyline. We meet Andrea's little brother, Jules – who is totally not staring at Cloud's ass through the entire minigame while encouraging him. This side quest touches on egos and being cocky – which Cloud can be. It's a humble pie moment, which is another life lesson that Cloud needs to learn also.

The party never stops features the return of Johnny, who appears as we leave the dressmaker's son who's the originator for the quest. We're sent over into the bar, where we can collect the Midgar Blues single for the cd achievement. This song is canonically Cloud and Tifa's romantic theme in Advent Children. Once we meet the dressmaker, we're sent over to the materia guy who wants “the sauce” in exchange for “inspiration”.

This sidequest is a bunch of tongue in cheek dick jokes and it's hilarious! It's also alludes to the fact that Cloud has zero experience since he had a crush on Tifa until he left the village, spent his time pining for her as a grunt, then got stuffed in a test tube and was in a coma for five years. Ofc he blusters his way through it, handling his balls and making comments about how he doesn't need lessons on “whipping it out”. Oh you poor sweet boi.

Once we get the sauce – fun fact there's no picture in the inventory of it when you get it – and we hand off to the materia guy (unintentional pun but I'm leaving it in now I've done it – and that one) we head over to the next weirdo on the list. The chef. Who literally poisons all of his customers. I suspect he and the pharmacy guy are in cahoots. He poisons people, the pharmacy guy cures them and they both get rich.

The chef asks Cloud to help fix the problem with his kitchen – but from npcs around it sounds like it's just his cooking that's the issue. It doesn't matter which option you pick, Johnny still gets food poisoning. Even if you max your materia, nothing changes. Cloud doesn't even offer the options, Johnny does the talking.

Once we're done with the killer chef, it's over to the pharmacy guy, who asks Cloud to go and deliver medicine. If you maxed your cleansing materia you get 3 packets of meds. The only one that matters is the guy in the pub bathroom since that moves the side quest along. The others are optional, but increase Cloud's rep about town since he's helping more people.

The pharmacy guy gives Cloud a Honey Bee Inn VIP pass, which is the dressmaker's inspiration. Once that's handed back, Cloud chats to the dressmaker's son, who caps the side quest off with the below screen.

This is a reference to the dream that Cloud had during chapter 8 where his mother mentioned he should have a mature girlfriend. This is the contradicting opinion that balances that. The dressmaker's son saying age doesn't equal maturity is referencing Tifa – since these quests are the ones that get you the matching dress to her canon one. This is the same as the Midgar Blues playing in the pub. These are Tifa centric quests, which is the entire reason Cloud's in Wall Market to begin with.

The last quest is a dynamite body, which comes from Sam. Tifa has a bomb bracelet on her default weapon that is part of a matching pair with her chocobo bracelet. Tifa is represented by “da bomb” and everyone knows Cloud’s a chocobo head. This quest is referencing cloti, and a comment from the announcer using a mixed metaphor mentions putting on shades.

Afterwards Same tries to hand Cloud his cut of the prize money and Cloud says he's there for Tifa, not money. Sam replies that Cloud has changed since his arrival and could likely storm Corneo's place all by himself to save Tifa. He also mentions that Tifa is a bombshell and Cloud goes to confront him by taking a step forward and saying “Hey.” This is Cloud stepping up to people sexually objectifying Tifa.

Once the quests are done, it's back to Corneo's where Cloud considers breaking in – like Sam suggested – but Leslie uses Cloud's feelings for Tifa against him by saying Corneo could hurt her if he does anything he shouldn't. This isn’t the first time Cloud’s emotionally blackmailed in Wall Market.

Cloud backs down, but is now operating under the sense that Corneo is a lot more dangerous than he first thought, and he's sending Aerith in. Aerith. Who's useless in a fight. He's now thinking that he'd have to go in and save them both, which is why he says to Aerith that he's not letting her go alone.

We've now reached the point where Cloud's earlier refusal to do kid related quests gives us the result with Aerith's dress. Her theme has been given a slightly rock vibe, which is SOLDIER Cloud appropriate, and the design is something that she has chosen – this is in line with her OG dress which she chose herself. She also has a large hair bow, similar hairstyle to OG and her flower symbolism throughout – compared to the red dress which has stars that haven't been associated with her at any point. The straps on the pink dress – which is her signature colour – also match the straps on the OG design. Johnny’s around throwing cherry blossom petals, which match several of her abilities and are a reference to Zack. Aerith wore this dress for Zack. This is her Zack date dress. This leads me to believe that this is her canon narrative outfit.

The accompanying blocking to this scene is also more realistic than the other two.

Cloud's reaction to the dress is suitably Cloud. His jaw drops a little and he gets a bit soft voiced when talking to Aerith, though it's a quick moment that ends when he asks why she left Madam M's.

And now we're at the point where Cloud has to impress Andrea Rhodea. As long as you get 112pts in his dance sequence (great = 2, good = 1) then Cloud will wear the earrings with his dress, no matter which one it is.

This is the last choice you have and it's the tie breaker between the two girls if you chose to do all of the side quests for them. By choosing Aerith you get her resolution later in chapter 14, but in the meantime you get a short dialogue and then Tifa wakes up.

If you choose Tifa, this goes towards her resolution in chapter 14, but in the meantime you get a longer dialogue concerning the imminent dangers in sector 7 and also she questions Cloud about his relationship with Aerith. This is referencing all of the strange things about Aerith from her initial touch to Cloud’s wrist letting him see the whispers, to the whispers attacking them later in sector 7, to her not letting him leave sector 5, to her crying and wanting to go with him. Tifa’s question makes Cloud suspicious. It’s not romantically motivated on her part because her focus is on saving sector 7.

Cloud doesn't get a chance to answer, as Aerith wakes up.

Chapter 12

Technically not a choice -- in fact it implies the opposite -- because if you run the timer out in chapter 12 at the top of the pillar nothing happens. This is a message that all previous timed events were optional because that’s what the players wanted. This is saying that no matter if you try to choose to ignore Tifa or Barret or any of the plot, that the game will wait for you to move. There are no consequences to running this timer down because it’s implying that the time for optional choices has passed. Narrative canon only will commence from this point on.

The last optional choice in the game comes a lot later with the stairs and elevator, so anything that Cloud says or does between then is canon. All of the resolutions are canon, but we're only able to view one at a time because of how the game operates. Cloud is the witness to the resolutions because they’re Barret, Tifa’s and Aerith’s resolutions.

Barret's resolution is first because the lighting is much brighter indicating it's earlier in the night.

After that comes Tifa's resolution, which is much later in the night, but well before dawn.

The last resolution is Aerith's and she indicates that it's almost morning at the end of hers.

All resolutions are canon

Aerith's resolution is hinted at by Mirielle during the lost wallet and Kyrie sidequests.

Tifa's resolution is hinted at by Tifa, through Leslie in the chapter 14 intel gathering main quest where you hunt down Don Corneo. Tifa relates Leslie's fiancee's necklace to a symbol of reunion. Since the necklace has a reunion flower on it, that she's seen, and the only time she mentions learning about the meaning of that flower is during her resolution, this is the confirmation of it having happened. Also, the fact that Cloud was about to mention the meaning, then stopped because he thought it might embarrass Tifa – who'd been in a vulnerable state at the time – shows that he was aware of both the meaning and the resolution and Tifa's feelings.

Chapter 16

Last choice in the game and it’s between the stairs and the elevator. And as much as I love the stairs, Mayor Domino tells us later on that the stuff in the elevator is what happened.

Feel bad for Cloud having to confront his claustrophobia with Tifa there. He’s not happy at all by the time they reach the top.

In Conclusion.

Playing as though Cloud were the one making the choices was a lot harder than I thought. I tend to choose things either as he would, or close enough in most cases, but there were some choices that had me stopping to debate which was the right choice. Cloud's character development is a slow process and even though I know he's got a whole kid army in AC, I couldn't resolve that with his current personality, so that led me to avoiding the kid quests. This revealed that Aerith should have worn her pink dress in the narrative and the scene between them when she reveals it feels a very narrative canon type of scene.

Tifa's dress is the same no matter what. I also believe she'd be the narrative choice in the sewers over Aerith because of the content of her dialogue and the fact real!Cloud has a crush on her still. He often checks in with her to make sure she's ok and he has an overriding urge to support and comfort her even when he doesn't know how. The way she lands in the sewers is echoed later in several other falls, but there’s one in the opening of chapter 13 where she’s got her arm under her head. This is because Cloud positioned her that way after she got knocked out. This shows he’d go to her if he saw her hurt.

All of the events, options and side quests culminate in Tifa's resolution being the main narrative option we see, with Aerith and Barret as a second and third option through replay choices, though all three do happen. From Cloud’s pov, though, the important one is Tifa because that’s the person he cares about the most. You only get Barret’s resolution by being a closed off asshole and Aerith’s if you act out of character and more like Zack, which is what Aerith wants. The quest dialogue with Leslie shows the resolutions happened, which makes them narrative canon.

People can disagree with this, but I found the narrative canon a really enjoyable way to play – once I got over messing up in wall market with the dress and had to start again (the choices are hard lol). Seeing events through Cloud's eyes, instead of being like some puppet master telling him what to do so I could get the story I wanted to see, was a really fun way to play. I definitely recommend it!

#final fantasy 7 remake spoilers #the cloud narrative #cloud strife #tifa lockheart #Aerith Gainsborough #choice analysis #long post

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haro-whumps · 5 years ago

Text

Group Whumpees 6: Breaking Point

CW: transphobia, implied/referenced noncon, panic attack, shitty family relations, manipulation (sort of? Just in case), slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees, defiant whumpee (but not for long! >:D)

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101

Special thanks to @icannotweave for inspiring some of the events in this chapter and chatting w me about it :3

Masterlist

The moment his phone was turned back on, it rang, and the ensuing conversation with his father pissed him off. His voice was loud, his free hand a fist, his face turned down in a snarl.

Master Galo was nearing his breaking point, Evan knew it. He might not have understood the nice guy act, but this? He knew this. He supposed he should be grateful it hadn’t come out at Lilah, that morning, that the bandages on his thick arm hadn’t been the final push needed to get him to snap, but he was going to snap soon. Evan didn’t know why he hadn’t yet, what about his weird mindgame was so important to him, why he wanted the five of them to believe he was so nice and shit, but it would be soon.

Greyson had provoked Master Galo, that first meeting. As far as Evan knew, he was the only person in their family to confront Greyson about it, wondering why Greyson was suddenly the provocative one. Greyson hadn’t said much in answer, just cleaned his glasses and asked Evan not to do anything foolish, himself, which was infuriating in its own right.

Honestly, almost everything that had happened since Mistress’s death had pissed Evan off. Their Master refused to give them clear rules, but starved them for not following them anyway. He didn’t want Attended, and he didn’t beat them when they fucked up, he hadn’t reminded a damn one of them of their place despite the fact that he obviously could. Did he think the sight of him was enough to make them cower? Did he expect them to take one look at his broad ass chest and heavy fucking arms and fall over themselves to please him?

It made Evan’s teeth grind that, if that were the case, Master would be right. He didn’t need to do shit; they were terrified of him anyway. Was that the game? To be friendly and sugar-sweet and smiley and happy go fucking lucky while his physique and their own hunger kept them weak-kneed and trembling before him? Or did he just like the anticipation of it all? Knowing he could bring the hammer down on them at any moment and laughing at them with every twitch and jump because they all knew it was coming, but only he knew when?

Fuck this guy! Fuck him and his stupid face and his broad hands and how he was able to bring them to their knees without even lifting a finger! Evan’s arms were shaking with his anger, with the unspent tension of multiple days.

He couldn’t take this.

He knew he’d promised Nyla, but he couldn’t take this. He couldn’t take the arrogance of it all and he couldn’t take the waiting and the waiting and the fucking waiting! He’d eaten a few hours ago, so if Master resumed starving him he could take it. Master was strong, but Evan was too. He could take it. And he would, because if it wasn’t Evan that Master Galo finally erupted at, it would be somebody else.

“I’m not having this conversation anymore!” Master Galo shouted, pacing the sunroom, each heavy footstep resounding loudly. “Dad, I don’t care! Okay? I don’t care! I’ve been busting my ass over here and all you’ve done is call me to complain, repeatedly. I’m done. I’m blocking your number. Don’t call me, don’t call the house, do not speak to me until tomorrow.”

Master Galo hung up, jamming his thumb against the flat screen of his phone with unnecessary force, and prowled over to the artisanal table he’d set the wine bottle on (Evan had been the one to bring the table into the house, and Mistress had rapped his knuckles harshly when he’d set the heavy wood down carelessly, too loud). The wine bottle had been mostly full that morning, and was now half empty. Master Galo drank straight from the bottle, and clearly did not know he was being observed.

He was pissed. He was injured. (Lilah had injured him, a fact Master Galo wasn’t likely to forget). If Evan was going to hit that breaking point, now was the time to do it.

Instinctive, animal fear pooled behind his ribs and below his gut, laced through the anger already wiring his teeth against each other and making his clenched fists shake. He knew what he was doing was stupid, but he was done waiting and wondering when Master Galo would hurt one of them.

He didn’t knock (punishable) and didn’t address Master Galo when he was seen (punishable).

“Evan,” Master Galo said with a sigh, setting the bottle back down, and Evan did not go to him to kiss his hand (punishable) and he did not kneel with his forehead to the floor (Sasha and Evan had that as a special rule for them, since neither of them “knew how to behave.” He didn’t know if that was punishable or not, for Master Galo, but still, he did not do it).

“Good, actually, I was gonna go look for you. Help me bring in the flower arrangements Lilah made,” Master ordered, not as much effort going into his nice guy routine, turned away from Evan and doing something on his phone (likely blocking his father’s number, like he’d promised).

Well, they had all agreed that there was one good way to make Master angry, that first morning.

“Yes, Mistress,” Evan said very deliberately, hurling the word at Master Galo’s back, and he heard Master’s phone case crack.

Master looked at him, eyes wide and angry, and Evan felt a rush of fear, of “now you’ve done it” rise in him like bile. But he maintained eye contact, wanting Master to know it was deliberate, that he’d said it intentionally. Summoning his anger, he jerked his chin forward. Do something about it.

Master made a strangled noise and rubbed over his face with a hand, shifted his weight onto one leg and tapped the toes of his shoe against the floor with the other, and ducked his head down while pushing his fingers through his hair. He propped the hand with his phone against his hip and waved his finger at Evan, then lifted his head. “Actually, you know what? Why don’t you go grab Nyla and have her come here?”

Nothing could’ve more effectively dropped the floor out from under Evan’s feet. The anger and tense fear, the readiness, the thought that he could handle whatever was about to come at him was instantly replaced with guilty horror.

“No!” Evan screamed, dropping to the floor, grinding his forehead against it. “No, Master, Master, please! No, sir, Master, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Master Galo made a noise, some sort of annoyed groan, and asked, “Can we not do this?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry sir I’m sorry Master I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again I swear, please, please don’t--”

“Yeah, I’m just. I’m just gonna--” Master Galo said, walking past Evan, and he lurched, grabbed Master with both hands, one around his belt and the other in the hem of his shirt.

“No! Please, punish me, punish me!” Evan begged, crying, knowing he was, his voice gone high and panicked. Inciting Master Galo was supposed to mean Evan got hurt, that he got to control the way Master Galo boiled over, not this, never this, not Nyla, “Please Master punish me!”

Master Galo pried at Evan’s fingers, and he knew refusing to let go instantly would just make it worse but he couldn’t! “I”m not going to--”

“Please!”

“Listen--”

“I’m sorry!”

“STAY.” Master successfully shoved Evan’s hands away from him, the order harsh and loud. “Stay here, don’t go anywhere,” Master ordered after, grip harsh but not quite bruising around Evan’s wrists.

Evan sobbed as he left, heavy footsteps audible. He stayed. He couldn’t afford to make this worse than it already was, not when Master was punishing someone else. Mistress Bethany had played many, many mindgames with them, but when she was pissed, she lost control. Evan could always count on that, and no one had ever been punished for his provocations.

But Master Galo was slower. He’d warned them of that day one. He was more methodical, clearly, and although he’d refused to beat them until now, clearly he knew how to hit where it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Evan moaned into the vacant room, arms wrapped around his belly and forehead once again on the floor. He was shaking, sobbing, all anger gone and replaced only with fear, with shame, with an unbearable guilt.

“Evan?!” Nyla asked, alarmed, as she rushed into the sunroom. She ran in front of him and spun gracefully, sinking to her knees as she did in a flair of skirts, and he looked up at her worried face.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, because he was. He’d never been this sorry in his life.

“Master told me to come calm you down,” Nyla informed him in a scared rush, one hand to his shoulder and the other cupping his unworthy cheek. “Evan, what did you do?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated shakily, “I provoked him, I’m sorry--”

“You provoked him!?” Nyla hissed, fingers digging into his shoulder and he choked.

“I’m sorry!”

“Why would you provoke him!?” Nyla scolded, her composure ruined, “He’s been in a bad mood all day this is the worst time to make him angry!”

“I h--” Evan hiccuped on a sob, raising a hand to clench at his vest, fingers digging into his chest. “I couldn’t take the waiting, anymore, I wanted to have it over with.”

“Idiot!” she hissed. “Idiot!” she repeated, louder. But oh, that wasn’t the worst of it.

“He was going to punish you, instead,” Evan confessed, body shuddering and involuntarily casting forwards. “He was--I begged him not to but he didn’t--”

“Where are the others?” Nyla asked, voice hollow, and Evan felt another icy hand of fear grip his heart. If not him, Nyla. If not Nyla, someone else.

Evan struggled to his feet, wiping at his face that wouldn’t stop crying, and was stupidly grateful for the arm Nyla wrapped around his waist to brace him.

Sasha was in the kitchen, thank god, and was alarmed and surprised to see them, thank god.

“I fucked up,” Evan explained, Sasha’s wide eyes darting between them. “I pissed him off, he’s--smart.”

“He’s punishing someone else in Evan’s stead,” Nyla said quietly, and Evan leaned heavily on the counter as Sasha instinctively took a step back, her hands raised over her chest. “Where are Grey and--”

The other kitchen door opened, and Greyson walked in. Which just left one unaccounted for.

“Lilah,” Evan cried, despair seizing him as he collapsed. He sobbed into his hands, distantly aware that Greyson asked a question, and Nyla answered it. Sasha knelt in front of him, but he didn’t deserve her comfort.

Mistress Bethany had never done made him like this. Oh, he’d cried for her. He’d begged. But not like this, only ever out of pain or fear or exhaustion, never this. He could take the cane or boiling water or her nasty over-long fingernails, he could take the exhaustion and the hunger, he could take the words that somehow managed to cut like knives despite how often he told himself he didn’t care what the bitch said. But he couldn’t handle knowing that Lilah, little Lilah, was on the other side of an eruption that he had caused.

Nyla’s skirts entered his field of vision, the hem of her apron stained from an old spill. She stood close with her feet spread, the way she only got when she was angry (he deserved it), and he lifted his heavy head, breath hitching as he cried.

“You promised,” Nyla stated, the words damning.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaked. He’d keep the promise, now. He’d never piss off their Master again, not after learning that he would punish the others for Evan’s mistakes. He’d listen to Nyla, he’d take her advice and obey her as the leader of their family.

“You promised,” Nyla repeated, and the betrayal in her voice hurt worse than anything Mistress Bethany had ever, ever done. Nyla was not a violent person, but Evan almost wished she was. If she hit him for this, it would be no less than he deserved.

She loomed over him, like this, lips pressed thin and fists balled at either hip, but she whirled, braced her hand on a countertop and ordered, “Evan, stay here with Sasha and calm down. Grey, avoid all of Master Galo’s usual haunts until dinner. No one talks to him unless he talks to them first.”

Evan let his head drop back down, biting back tears, his body jerking with each hiccup, and squirreled himself away in front of the pantry. Ideally, there, he wouldn’t be able to get in Sasha’s way, since she was doing her job and apparently the only thing he was good at was fucking things up for the rest of them. Why hadn’t he just behaved himself!? Why was seeing Master Galo break such a priority for him? Stupid fuckup, why wasn’t he the one bleeding and aching right now?

If he had the chance to do it over he’d take it in a heartbeat. He wished he could, he’d give anything, he’d do anything, if it meant his family didn’t get hurt. Hurt because of him.

He was supposed to be trying to calm down, but he couldn’t stop crying. It wasn’t until after Greyson had set the table and taken Master’s plate out to him that Evan finally wound down, accepting the glass of water Sasha gave him.

After Master ate, Sasha plated meals for Nyla and Greyson, then, more hesitantly, herself, and then she stared at Evan.

“Don’t,” he croaked, voice hoarse and raw, “I couldn’t keep it down, if I did.”

“H-he said…” Sasha murmured, gripping her left hand tightly in her right. “O-only if he r-revoked, I, I have to, m-make sure you all eat.”

Was that a subtle punishment, too? If they didn’t eat while nauseous, didn’t keep it down, that was a broken rule?

“But. But,” Sasha continued, voice whining higher, “if he r-revoked perm-mission and didn’t t-tell me, I--”

“Breathe, Sasha,” Greyson said, his hand on her shoulder, the one without the lock of hair she left loose to self-comfort with. “If he didn’t tell you, then be obedient. Even if he gets upset, Nyla and I can beg for you, that you were only following his directions. It’s a hard test for the first day with a new rule, but we’re here for you.”

Sasha took a deep breath and nodded, then looked to Evan again.

“I can’t,” he whispered miserably, “I’m nauseous; it’ll come back up.”

“Bread and water,” Nyla interjected, stabbing her fork into her own dinner. “It counts as eating, Sasha will have followed the rules. It’s light, it won’t come back up.”

Even though she was mad at him, she was still fixing his problems.

“Thank you,” he whispered, heart twisting with fondness even through everything else. He stood and washed his hands, promising Sasha he’d get it himself. She plated Lilah’s dinner, Evan cut off a hunk from the morning’s loaf, and he nibbled at it miserably.

“D-Do… you w-want to come w-with?”

See Lilah. Comfort her, maybe, from the very thing he’d caused. He turned his head away, ashamed.

He ate the bread, slowly, his stomach churning unhappily, when she left.

“She’s okay!” Sasha shouted--well, what counted as Sasha shouting--as she ran through the door on her return. “L-Lilah, she’s n-not hurt. She’s b-b-been Quiet a-all evening! N-nothing’s happened to her s-since lunch! She was c-confused, when I s-said we’d b-been sca-ared.”

Nyla gripped Sasha at the elbows, everyone’s attention on her. “Sh-she’s okay!”

Evan ran.

“Evan?” Lilah startled when he entered, and she was. She was okay. The relief stole his breath from him. “Evan, what’s happening?” Lilah asked as he crossed to her, barely remembering to toe off his shoes before climbing into bed, flinging himself at her and wrapping her in a bear hug. “Why did Sasha think I was hurt?”

“We all did,” he croaked, pressing his nose to her hair. She was alright. Master hadn’t hurt her.

She shook her head against his chest. “I told you earlier, remember? He wasn’t mad I hurt him.”

“No, no I--” Evan had to stop and swallow. It was shameful, to confess to it again. To recount how he’d acted, and how the others had almost gotten hurt because of it. Lilah smacked his head at the end of it, though nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“Idiot,” she scolded. “Stop doing stupid things because you’re angry.”

“I won’t,” Evan promised with a wet chuckle, so relieved she was okay. “Never again.”

But if Lilah wasn’t hurt, that meant Master hadn’t punished anyone. It meant Evan had kickstarted some new stage to the mindgame; there was something left undone. Sure, maybe it fit into what Evan understood of Master Galo’s ploys that he was simply reminding Evan that he knew how to break him, so easily and so very thoroughly. Maybe this was just another show of power. Maybe Master Galo had realized Evan was trying to claim control, and had denied him even that.

Or maybe, Evan thought, as he lied wide-awake after his family had all fallen into an unsteady sleep, Master Galo was simply biding his time for when it would hurt the worst. The punishment was coming. It had to be.

Evan had one last chance to make sure the person punished was him.

He crept up the stairs, quiet despite the fact that he knew his family couldn’t hear him, here. He went to Mistress Bethany’s old room--largely untouched, just yet--and walked across the perfectly spotless carpet. One of his jobs, as housecleaner, was to come to this room every morning and scrub out the blood from whatever had happened the night before. If even a speck was left, he’d spend the following morning scrubbing without gloves to protect him from the harsh chemicals.

He was very good at cleaning. He wasn’t good at much else, but he could clean. And, he reminded himself as he opened the tool closet and lifted the heaviest wooden cane, he bruised very nicely. Mistress Bethany had beat him with this, him more than any of the others, trying to break him, trying to put out the final shreds of defiance in him, the rebellion he clung to, his anger. He tried to feel for that anger now, and felt nothing.

In less than a week, Master Galo had done what Mistress Bethany had failed to do over the course of a decade.

He gripped the cane below the handle and took a deep breath. Move gracefully. Don’t cry before it starts. Don’t emote with ugly expressions. Evan was no good at pretending to smile, but he could look submissive. He slid one hand down the cane, gripping it lower as he started to walk. The smooth wood raised goosebumps across his skin and bile in his throat, but now wasn’t the time to back down.

He wasn’t angry, this time, he wasn’t impatient or stupid. He’d do as he was meant to.

Don’t stutter. Don’t recoil. Flinching was okay but not too far, or it would look like a recoil. His footsteps, though quiet, seemed to boom inside his ears. As did his pulse, and his breathing. Thank Master Galo properly. Don’t panic, this time around.

That would be the hard one. The looming threat of what would happen if he failed--if he didn’t beg hard enough or right enough that Master Galo would punish him--had him on the brink of terror already, and they hadn’t even started yet. He bit down on that fear, with no anger left to shield him from it, and forcefully reminded himself, Don’t panic.

Knock on the doorframe. He did. Greet Master when acknowledged. “Master Galo.” Kneel. He did.

“Evan, why are you here?”

“I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly, earlier.” Evan lifted the cane in both hands, presenting it to the man that loomed over him like a nightmare. “I intentionally called you the wrong name, I shouted, I touched you without permission, and I was ugly in doing so. For these offenses, Master, please,” he hoped Master Galo hadn’t heard his voice crack on the ‘please,’ “punish me.”

The fear was building, compounding in on itself, too fast, but Evan kept his body rigid, immobile. He’d fucked up, so many times, he wouldn’t fuck up this one, he couldn’t. Even when he heard his Master take slow, thoughtful steps toward him: he kept his head down, his arms up. Even as each step sent him closer to a panic. Even as his breath threatened to break loose of his control, to speed up, ugly and audible.

Even as his Master’s shadow blocked out the moonlight.

Even as Master Galo took the heavy cane from his hands.

Galo needed to be very, very careful. He’d been hasty, earlier, impatient and irritated with this man misgendering him when he was already at the end of his rope thanks to his father. A couple laps around the property line and the familiar burn of lifting heavy objects and moving the floral arrangements inside had helped him cool off--a lot. But the damage was very clearly already done. Evan sounded wrecked.

The cane was solid wood, probably oak or some shit--heavy. If he hit Evan with this, he could kill him. Galo set it down and leaned it up against the chair in the room, overfull with his belongings. Having Evan sit there wasn’t really an option, not unless he wanted to dump the stuff out and he needed to be delicate, here.

Alright, what did Galo know? Evan thought Galo was still pissed at him (not entirely unreasonably). Evan wanted to be punished with a heavy fucking cane, due to #1. Something had spooked this guy--badly. Galo couldn’t carry on not knowing what that thing was, or else they’d wind up right back here again: with a slave kneeling just inside his doorway, ready for him to do terrible things to them.

“Evan, I’m gonna ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them honestly, okay?” Galo said, slowly walking back to his bed and sitting on the end of the mattress, patting next to him. “Will you come over here?”

“Yes Master,” Evan answered instantly, moving to get up but then hesitating. Okay, Galo’s bad, he did just say he’d be asking questions, not necessarily making suggestions via questioning.

“Come here,” Galo ordered gently, and Evan moved faster than Galo had ever seen him move. He didn’t sit on the mattress like Galo had hoped, but knelt at Galo’s side. “Sit on the bed, please,” Galo tried, and Evan moved again, still quick.

“Thank you.” Galo pat him, once, on the back. Evan did not have a history of responding well to touch, for all that Galo had seen him, so he didn’t plan on doing too much of it while they talked. “Now what’s all this about” was probably a redundant question, since Evan had literally listed off his offences when he came into Galo’s room.

Galo, predictably enough, spent too long thinking, because before he could even begin to formulate an intelligent question Evan whispered, “Anything.”

“Hm?”

“Anything, Master,” Evan stated, barely any louder, if at all, “I’ll do anything.” Slowly, deliberately, Evan moved his hand directly towards Galo’s crotch, and Galo was grateful for the speed because he didn’t have to snatch Evan by the wrist, just stop him.

“No, Evan, I’m not fucking you,” Galo said firmly, aware of his mistake too late. He must be tired, if he thought inviting Evan up onto the bed with him was a good idea. “Didn’t meant to imply--”

“Please,” Evan choked out, small.

“Evan?” Galo became aware that Evan was trembling in his grip.

“Please don’t hurt them,” Evan begged, sounding at the end of whatever rope he had, and Galo’s brow furrowed.

“Them?” he asked, “You mean, the others?”

“Please,” Evan repeated, “It was my mistake, I did it. Please, Master Galo, punish me.”

Galo bent to get a better look at Evan’s face, and he saw tears brimming there, inside a thousand yard stare.

“Hey, buddy,” Galo said, waving his hand in front of Evan’s face without even as much as a blink, “I’m losing you there.”

“They didn’t--” Evan choked.

“They didn’t do anything wrong,” Galo finished for him, gently.

“So please, please punish me,” Evan begged, the first tear spilling over, and Galo couldn’t think. He was tired, he was spent, it was late, he wanted to be asleep and not having this conversation but Evan was freaking out, and that was Galo’s responsibility to fix. “I’ll take anything, I’ll be quiet or loud or however you prefer, I deserve it Master, I’ll do anything you tell me to just please, please--!”

“Evan, stop talking,” Galo said, careful not to tell him to be quiet or shush or anything that might imply he wasn’t allowed to cry right now. Evan’s mouth shut, and Galo let go of his wrist in order to sling an arm around Evan’s shoulders, hugging him. He needed time. He needed to think, but thinking was so hard when he was so tired. He let Evan cry against his shoulder, the poor guy’s hands in fists at his sides, and Galo didn’t know how to fix it.

It looked like the only thing that would calm Evan down, at this point, would be to actually punish him. But Galo wasn’t going to hurt him, so, something else? But what would count as a punishment--enough that Evan would accept it as such--but not hurt him? Galo couldn’t think.

Oh! So he’d buy himself some time.

“Evan, tomorrow morning, meet me in the den.” Galo felt bad for even saying it, feeling Evan flinch under his arm, but it was supposed to be a punishment. “I’m tired right now,” not a lie, “so I’ll deal with you then.”

“Thank you Master,” Evan said, and Galo moved his hand to give Evan a little push on the back, mostly to help the man. “Thank you Master, thank you.”

“Go to sleep, Evan.” Galo watched him stagger to his feet, and stumble once on his way to the door.

“Yes, Master, thank you.”

Galo sighed and flopped back on his bed. He was making mistakes and his body felt like lead. He knew he had to climb up and crawl under the covers, but they were so far away.

The longer he lied there the harder it would be. Fuck.

But he did feel better in the morning. Clearer, sharper, better equipped to puzzle out what the fuck was going on with Evan.

At least he could hazard a guess at what had spooked the guy so bad: he thought Galo was going to punish the others for his actions.

...Now that he thought about it, Evan had lost his shit the first time when Galo said he was gonna have Nyla help him with the flowers instead. How had Galo phrased it exactly? He couldn’t remember, it was such a small detail, a harmless sentence said when he was pissed and frustrated. Except it hadn’t been harmless, clearly. Evan had taken it to mean Galo would hurt Nyla, and, he guessed, the other three, also.

“God,” Galo muttered to himself, pulling his notebook out and writing Don’t insinuate you’ll hurt other people when one person “messes up” on the list of suggestions he had for his own behavior.

Flipping back a page, he wrote, Evan will beg to be beaten if you spook him enough. Not as surly as I thought???

Galo ran his fingers through his hair and started getting ready for the day, his old suit tight around the chest and biceps. As he dressed and groomed himself, he tried to think of a good punishment that wouldn’t actually hurt Evan. He was combing his hair when the lightbulb went off, the idea striking him.

He headed on down to the den, where Evan was already waiting, on his knees with his wrists crossed behind his back.

“Morning Evan,” he greeted, approaching him and extending his palm, which Evan kissed.

“Master Galo,” Evan returned, quiet but thankfully not sounding as panicky as the night before. Galo tilted his head up by the chin so he could see his eyes. The usual fire he sometimes thought he saw was beyond absent; Evan looked like a broken man.

“Repeat after me, Evan,” Galo said, hoping that being punished would serve as some small comfort, that he wasn’t entirely off-base. “I will not misgender Master Galo. I will not provoke him and I will show him respect.”

Evan didn’t hesitate to say it back to him, and Galo removed his hand from under Evan’s chin.

"Good, Evan. Now say that out loud 999 more times. You may leave the den after you do; don't lose count."

And so Galo spun on his heel, and left.

He wouldn’t do anything to confirm that Evan had, in fact, said it 1,000 times. He had shit to do and it didn’t matter to him, personally, if Evan did lose count. But if nothing else, even just kneeling there that long would be a punishment in and of itself. And it addressed the issue.

“Morning Sasha,” Galo greeted, offering his hand again and getting started on his morning shake. “Has Evan eaten yet this morning?”

She shook her head. “Cool. After he’s done with his recitations, he can eat, but don’t interrupt him please.”

Sasha nodded and he smiled at her. “Atta girl. I’m gonna go load up the van and head to the church. This everything?” Galo gestured at the foodstuffs, packaged neatly the night before. When she nodded, he gave her a pat to the shoulder. “Thanks, Sasha. I’ll see you all tonight, probably after dinner so don’t wait up.”

When everything was loaded and Galo behind the wheel, he buckled himself in but then took a moment before he actually turned the van on to sigh and rub his hands down his face.

“Alright, Galo,” he said to himself, staring at the car ceiling. “You can do this. It’s gonna suck, but then it’s gonna be over.”

He breathed in, breathed out, and went to go set up for the funeral.

173 notes · View notes

miscellaneous--musings · 5 years ago

Text

Nightmares

Detroit: Become Human

Detroit: Evolution

Reed900

A/N: Since Detroit: Evolution has taken over my life, it only makes sense that I make a fic about those two boys. So this fic is based off the film Detroit: Evolution so some information may be confusing if you haven’t watched it yet. If you ship Reed900 I highly recommend watching it. It’s an hour and fifteen minutes and free on YouTube. It’s so good and very pure and full of good representation. But here is the fic.

Word Count: 3,043

Gavin gave the handcuffed criminal a particularly hard shove to get him to walk forward into the station. Nines walked behind, keeping an eye on the criminal to ensure he didn’t try to break from Gavin’s grip and run off. “Fucking cops.” The man in questions was shouting. “You’re fucking useless.”

Gavin immediately spun the man so he was pressed face first against a wall. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Gavin snarled. “You’re going to stop fucking around and walk nice and quiet to the interrogation room.” He yanked the man away from the wall and roughly guided him to an interrogation room. Nines watched as Gavin forced the man into a chair and attached the cuffs to the table.

Then he walked out of the room and let out a sigh. Nines placed his hands on Gavin’s shoulders. He gave a gentle squeeze before running his hands down Gavin’s arms. “You need to relax.” He said. “No need to get unnecessarily rough.”

“I know.” Gavin sighed. Nines brought up a hand and rested it on Gavin’s cheek. Gavin leaned into the touch. “He’s just a dick.”

Nines gave a small, understanding smile. “Will you be ok interrogating him alone?” Nines asked.

Gavin swatted Nines’ hand away gently. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Alright. Chris asked me to take a look at some files.” Nines leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Gavin’s lips. Then he left Gavin to do the interrogation.

Gavin yawned as the pair entered his apartment. They closed a case today, which meant that Gavin’s stress levels weren’t that high. Nines felt better knowing Gavin wasn’t stressed out after work. Nines went to the kitchen to make dinner. Gavin followed. He didn’t help much. In fact he sat on top of the counter and was more distracting than anything.

Any time Nines walked by, he tried to pull him in for a kiss. He succeeded quite a few times, mostly because Nines let him. As Nines finished up, Gavin hopped down and got drinks from the fridge. Nines could eat, but often didn’t. He did have a thirium based drink every night though so he would sit at the table with Gavin.

While Gavin wouldn’t help cook dinner, he would always wash the dishes that couldn’t go in his dishwasher. Nines would grab a towel to dry them off. After dinner, their evenings were completely free.

They would watch a TV show or movie, Gavin was convinced he needed to educate Nines on all things pop culture. Sometimes Nines would read a book. He could read them at top speed but could enjoy them more reading them at an average reading speed. Gavin would play a video game and could sometimes convince Nines to play as well. They were often on teams unless Gavin was feeling particularly competitive. But every time the play against each other, Nines would always win.

This particular night was spent with Gavin playing a game while Nines read. Nines often slung his arm around Gavin’s shoulder, just like tonight. Gavin eventually turned off the game before turning the news on. He leaned against Nines as he watched. He looked over at Nines and decided he didn’t actually care about the news. He smirked knowing that Nines would know exactly what page he was on in his book.

He turned to Nines, grabbed the book and dropped it on the coffee table in front of the couch. He leaned up and kissed Nines soundly. Nines smiled against Gavin’s lips, bringing his left hand up to rest on Gavin’s cheek as usual. The synthetic skin on Nines’ hand had retracted, the lack of control always obvious.

Gavin moved so he was essentially kneeling on the couch facing Nines, his legs on either side of his boyfriend. He was honest when he told Nines he didn’t face about having sex. But he did like having physical contact with Nines. And Nines never protested Gavin being close. Eventually Nines pulled back though. “Let’s get to bed. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”

Gavin raised a brow. “Are you guessing or scanning?”

“You asked me to stop scanning you.”

“Did you actually listen?”

“Ok, I still scan you.” He leaned forward to give Gavin a small kiss as an apology. “It’s only because I worry about you.” Gavin rolled his eyes. Then Nines slid his hands under Gavin’s thighs and lifted him from the couch as he stood up. He not so gracefully dropped Gavin on the bed, only because it got a small smile from Gavin.

Nines changed into a black t-shirt and black gym shorts, given to him by Gavin. Gavin wore a tank top and gym shorts as well. Gavin clung to Nines, uncharacteristically touchy. Nines said nothing about it, trusting Gavin to tell him if something was bothering him. As Nines sense Gavin was drifting off, he slipped into stasis.

It was no longer a garden. It varied though. Sometimes it was Gavin’s apartment, complete with the cat prowling around. Other times it was the police department. Occasionally it was Connor and Hank’s home or the bar downtown that the police officers often went to. It changes depending on what he was doing. He was simply sorting through information tonight so during stasis he was in Gavin’s apartment still.

He only came out from stasis as he felt Gavin still moving around. He thought he was asleep. So he opened his eyes and looked over to Gavin. “Oh sorry.” Gavin said as Nines caugh him staring. “I don’t often get to see you sleeping.”

“Technically, you’ve never seen my sleeping because androids don’t sleep.”

“Oh I know. Shut up.” Gavin said with no real malice. He kissed Nines against to ensure he was quiet. As they broke apart, Gavin turned so his back was to Nines. In response, Nines curled around Gavin, his chest to Gavin’s back.

Nines monitored Gavin’s vitals, noting that he never actually fell asleep for longer than a few minutes. He never got real sleep. Again, he didn’t push it. If Gavin wanted to talk about it, he would.

Gavin was irritable the next day. He at least thanked Nines when a coffee was brought to him though. He was mostly polite to Nines, but even Nines could pick up on subtle attitude changes which proved he was short tempered.

He yelled at Hank, who thankfully didn’t add fuel to the fire. Nines short the lieutenant an apologetic look, which Hank nodded to in understanding. He spent an extended break talking to officer Chen. And he was rather unmotivated to work. Eventually Fowler sent them a new case. An case of a kid suspected of running Red Ice for a larger operation.

Gavin worked on it with renewed vigor. He even brought the case files home with him. He took a break for dinner but dove right back in after washing dishes. Nines watched him work, adding input when asked. He knew why this case was important to Gavin. He sympathized. Eventually Nines kissed Gavin’s cheek. “We should get to bed.”

Gavin waved him off. “I’m busy.”

“Gavin, I can work the case while you sleep.” Nines offered. “And share any intel I find. But you need to sleep. I know you didn’t sleep well last night either. I didn’t mention it because I figured you’d talk to me if you needed to.”

“Well you figured right. And I’m not talking. So I’m fine. And I’m fine right now. I’m not that tired.”

“Gavin, please. A few hours maybe?” Nines bargained.

“I’m fine, Nines!” Gavin practically shouted.

Both men stilled. Outburst weren’t uncommon. Gavin had them often, but neither man enjoyed when they happened. Gavin gelt guilty, and Nines got mad himself when Gavin would lash out at them. “Sorry.” Gavin mumbled. “But I’m not going to bed.”

“Fine.” Nines said. Nines made himself comfortable on the couch, not intending to go into stasis if Gavin was going to go down a self-destructive path. He didn’t actually need to go into stasis every night anyway.

“You can go into stasis or whatever you do.” Gavin said, not looking away from the files.

“Unlike humans that require sleep,” Nines said pointedly. “I do not need to go into stasis every night. I’ll be fine. I hope you will be too.” Gavin grumbled but didn’t give an intelligible response. Later, when Gavin looked at Nines and asked for a coffee, Nines considered not getting it. But Gavin had said please and looked so tired that Nines actually gave in and brought him one from the kitchen. But after that, he refused.

Gavin grumbled as he went to go get his second cup of the evening. To his credit, Nines couldn’t detect him saying anything bad about the android. Mostly just grumbling about being unable to stay awake all night and the stupid human need to sleep.

He got back on the couch and kept going through the files. He made a list of family and friends to contact. He made a list of people who he was more recently contacting. He looked into the kid’s past, he grumbled something about a most likely abusive family member.

Gavin leaned back against Nines at some point. Nines wanted to push him away, tell him that Gavin needs to go to bed. But he also loves Gavin and can’t stand to push him away. So he wrapped his arm around Gavin’s waist and held him close while Gavin kept working.

“Hey, Nines.” Gavin said, clearly still reading case files. “I want your opinion on this.” He started. Nines rolled his eyes and moved the arm the was around Gavin’s waist so he could cover Gavin’s mouth instead. It earned him a questioning and offended glare from Gavin. It was very ineffective with Nines’ hand covering his mouth though.

“Look, Gavin. I’m done arguing that you should go to bed. You know what I think but clearly I can’t change your mind. But I am not going to help you with this self-destructive behavior. I will help you with this case during work hours. But while you are staying awake for the second night in a row, I won’t help you.” He removed his hand from Gavin’s mouth and snaked his arm around his boyfriend’s waist once more.

Gavin gave Nines a look. “So you’re just gonna sit there silently?”

“Until you agree to get some sleep or our normal waking time come, yes.”

“Fine.” Gavin snarled. But he didn’t move away either.

The rest of the night was quiet. Gavin would doze on and off, never for long either. But finally the morning came and Nines got up from the couch. He made coffee and brought it to Gavin. “We talking now?” Gavin asked as he took the cup.

“This is the time which we would usually be waking up for work. So since it’s no longer time in which you should be sleeping, then I think it’s fine to act as we normally do.” Nines explained. “May I at least suggested you shower before work today?”

Gavin took another gulp of his coffee then set the cup down. “Yeah, ok.” Gavin stood up. He paused in front of Nines then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Nines’ lips. Nines gave a small smile. Then Gavin went to shower. Nines’ LED spun yellow as he composed a text to Captain Fowler.

The pair headed to work and Nines was grateful that their usual banter returned during their car ride. He knew Gavin’s mood was going to go south as soon as they got to work. And sure enough, the minute Gavin set his bag down, Fowler shouted for Reed to report to his office.

Tina came over and watched Gavin argue with Fowler in his office. “What did Gavin do this time?” She asked.

Nines let out a small shrug and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nothing. But he hasn’t actually slept in 48 hours. I informed Fowler, although Gavin doesn’t know that I did that. Fowler will most definitely send him home. Then, hopefully I can convince him to get at least some sleep.”

“Good luck.” Tina said. “That boy can be difficult some times. But I guess you’re equipped to handle him.” She nudged Nines.

Nines gave a small smile in return. Tina retreated to her desk as soon as Gavin stormed out the office. “Son of bitch.” He muttered under his breath.

“What’s wrong, Gavin?” Nines asked, playing dumb.

“Fowler said my work the past two days has been ‘less than satisfactory.’ So he sending me home today. Said I can’t work if I’m not at my best. So this kid’s case has to sit still for 24 hours.”

“You’re no use to him in the state you’re in anyway, Gavin.” Nines said. “I’ll take the day off as well.”

“You don’t like taking days off.” Gavin accused.

“But I like being with you.” Nines said with a smile. “And I want to ensure you sleep.”

Gavin didn’t say anything but snatched his stuff and stormed out of the station. Nines followed behind, far calmer than Gavin. The car ride home was not at all like the one on the ay to work. It was silent and Gavin was fuming. Nines wanted to say something to break the silence but didn’t know what to say. Especially since anything could make Gavin angry.

Back at home Gavin dropped his stuff on the couch. He went a grabbed a beer from the fridge. Nines saw and immediately grabbed the beer before Gavin even opened it. He put it back in the fridge, ignoring Gavin’s protests. “Go lay down, Gavin.” Nines ordered. “You’ll feel better in the morning if you sleep instead of drinking yourself unconscious.” Gavin didn’t say anything. “Come on.” Nines led Gavin to the room by the hand.

Gavin reluctantly changed out of his work clothes and into his pajamas. He laid down but didn’t make any effort to actually sleep. Nines laid down beside Gavin and grabbed his hand. “Sleep, Gavin.” He requested. Nines laid down and pulled Gavin down with him. Gavin fell asleep only minutes after Nines began rubbing his back.

Gavin had only been asleep for about an hour when he started shifting in his sleep. He let out a distressed noise. He seemed to mumble a word but Nines couldn’t make it out. Nines sat up and placed a hand on Gavin’s chest. “Gavin. Wake up.” He urged. “It’s not real. Wake up.”

Gavin’s eyes shot open. “Nines?” He propped himself up so he could sit and lean against the headboard.

“Yes.” Nines said. “I’m here. Just like always.” He reassured Gavin with his small smile. “Same dream?”

Gavin huffed. “Yeah.” He paused. “Well, close enough anyway.” Nines raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mention it before, cause it didn’t seem important. But while I’m laying in the snow and dying, I’m calling out for Fowler. My brain knows he should be showing up, but he doesn’t. So I’m trying to call out, my voice is scratchy and barely works. I’m fucking coughing up blood. And Fowler never shows, no matter how much I call.” His voice was soft as to not disrupt the quiet environment of the room.

Nines said nothing, letting Gavin explain and talk through what was bothering him. “The thing about this dream, the reason I hate it, is that I feel like no one gives a shit about me. I die with no one there. No one comes to help me.”

“You know that people care about you, Gavin. Fowler, Tina, Chris, Me.” He rattled off.

“Yeah, I know that Nines.” He said. “But in the dream, it doesn’t feel like it as I die. And Like I said, I usually call out for Fowler but he never comes. It was different tonight.” Gavin grabbed Nines’ hand. He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable sharing this. Nines let his thumb rub back and forth on Gavin’s hand, hopefully soothing him. “Tonight I kept calling out for you.” His grip tightened. “And you never fucking showed.”

Nines removed his hand from Gavin’s, only to pull Gavin in close and kiss the top of his head. “Gavin, as long as I am able, I will always come to your aid. Just like you did for me. I would never leave you to die.”

Gavin sighed. “I know, Nines. But shit, that nightmare makes me feel alone.”

“You aren’t alone now. And, as long as you put up with me, you won’t ever be.” Nines assured him. He kissed the top of Gavin’s head again. “What brought on this nightmare?” The last time this happened was when they met Lazzo, a young man close to having a past like Gavin’s. It couldn’t be just the new case. Gavin refused to sleep the night before they got the case.

“The suspect we brought in a few days ago.” Gavin answered.

“What?” Nines asked, his LED spinning yellow in confusion.

“During the interrogation he like digging into the fact that I was alone while I questioned him. He liked making comments that I had no one watching my back. It was just a bunch of shit talking, but I knew that the minute I tried to sleep that everything he said would manifest into this dream. Then throw our news case in there and I knew I’d have the damn dream again.”

“Gavin?”

“Yeah, Nines?”

“You should really try to sleep some more.”

“Really?” Gavin asked around a huffed out laugh. “I bare my fucking soul to you and that’s your response?” His words weren’t hostile, his playful tone coated the question.

“Yes, because like I said, I am right here. And I plan to stay here. So you can rest easy and know that I mean what I said. As long as I am able, I will always come to you.”

“I know Nines.” Gavin said, resting head on Nines’ chest. “You already did once, back at Cyberlife. I called to you and you came to me.”

“And I will always continue to.” Another soft kiss to Gavin’s head. “Sweet dreams, Gavin.”

#detroit become human #detroit evolution #dbh gavin #gavin reed #rk900 #detroit: nines #reed900 #gavin x rk900

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katsmonsterblog · 4 years ago

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Sunflowers in the Cemetery pt 1

OMG okay so... I feel like I have to post this now. If i don’t then this will probably be a full blown novel... and I mean I wouldn’t complain but I have literally been working on this for months.

So this is a story about two of my OCs :D how they met actually. At over 5k words and 13 pages long, its one of my longest works and I’m so super proud of it you guys. I came to a stopping point and...While the story isn’t fully done, I’ve decided to make it a part one of however many (pls don’t kill me ;-;)

Its a bit pg13, mentions of sex and cursing

If you like this then please support me on Ko-fi! And check out my commissions page and my masterlist :)

Anyways! Enjoy!

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Music pumped through the speakers around the club, vibrating the wood of the floor and bar, a pulsating beat that made you want to grind and sway and move. Well, the music only helped add to the atmosphere of sex on the dance floor, in truth, there was something else that seemed to be at play here. There weren’t many places like this in a smaller city like this one, and it definitely wasn’t the alcohol that brought the demon here. No, it was definitely the sex. A hand clapped him on the back and took his predatory gaze from the crowd of writhing bodies. “You know Andras, I don’t much like demons in my place of business but for you I’ll always make an exception.” The male beside him was a friend of a friend’s, and his club wasn’t one that especially catered to the supernatural, more a way to get food if you were invited to prowl and were smart about it, though Liam had never expressly liked his kind. “Is it because I’m pretty Liam?” Andras smirked, sipping whiskey that would never get him drunk. “Or is it because when I’m here you make more money than you know what to do with?” He batted his eyes as the vampire laughed, flashing his fangs and then leaning into him. “Both. Are you hungry tonight Andi? Cuz I’m starving..” Liam purred, green eyes flashing red, a spark within the depths, and having little effect on the incubus. Andras in turn smiled, though his own deep blue gaze was hard, and rolled his neck….a tease for the male and a little something more. Around them it seemed like the humans grew frenzied in their grinding, the aura of lust rising. Prince was only a title he had once held, but it was a title and a bloodline in itself and Andras came from a rare breed of Incubi, his power and aura like another part of him. Like breathing. It flowed out over the crowd of humans, heightening their touch, their lust... “Don’t call me Andi….but yes I could most definitely go for.... a bite...” He responded with a wicked smile as he looked out to the crowd once more and caught the shy gaze of adoration on a younger male, human but very willing. Ah he knew that look, one that said, ‘oh please come here and wreck me.’ Who was he to deny that wish? “I’ll catch you later Liam.” He said as he slid off his barstool, the picture of liquid heat and raw sex and ...gods help the multitude of humans he’d burn through tonight. True that he could feed on just the lust in the room, the arousal, but it was like water to a starving man. Empty calories, and not only that but it would take longer, even through chaste touch, as skin to skin heightened his ability to use his power. It was so unsatisfying.

Tonight he wanted a full course meal... ~~~~~~~~~~

It was as dawn was just peeking out over the city that Andras slipped out the door of whatever apartment he’d been in, a lit cigarette in his mouth, and pulled on his leather jacket. Not that he needed it, it wasn’t particularly cold and the rain from the night before had stopped, but he had to blend in. He looked human for all intents and purposes, if only a little punk rock for most people’s tastes, fishnets and leather and piercings.

He took a deep breath of nicotine and tar, not caring about the smell or taste really, it didn’t harm him, but it took the edge off. The humans he'd left in the apartment upstairs were spent, but alive. They'd likely be drained, and deliciously sore, for a few days. As much as he was down for cuddles after… he shook himself from those thoughts, frowning and turning towards the street. Humans were clingy...and weak… he couldn’t be around them for long without them being addicted to him. Literally. It wasn’t his ego talking either, humans were known for becoming addicted to the use of his power, to the touch and taste of him, to the point they grew mad and fanatic. He had just decided to disappear, a demon’s way of teleporting that they called ‘smoking out’, when movement caught his eye.

Really, there weren’t many people up at this time of day, so when he turned to see someone staring at him from across the street, he halted. He couldn’t tell why it shocked him at first, people stared at him a lot, but it had always been lust and awe. This wasn’t that, instead she stared at him as though she were staring through him, like she knew him. She was dressed cute, in cuffed jeans and a sunflower blouse, her hair a mess of red curls and something about her heart shaped face and wide eyes screamed innocence. But as soon as she saw that he was also staring, turned in a hurry with her bike and pedalled off.

He should leave that alone.. really, because from what he could sense in that instant, she was human. But the way she looked at him, could she somehow see him for what he truly was? He blew out a cloud of smoke and tossed the cigarette. This was fucking stupid, it was just some fucking human.

But even as he thought that, he followed after her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holy cow biscuits. He saw her.... Didn’t he? She knew him, the demon.. Well she didn’t know him really.. But she’d seen him. She’d seen him before she ever saw him. It was difficult to describe, how she knew things before they happened, how faces stuck in her mind only for her to come across them in real life. How her powers were a curse, not a gift, and often not helpful at all.Especially when it all but invited the demon to see her too...

Cassie winced at her own train of thought as she coasted her bike around the corner and looked both ways before she rode across the street to the one lane road that would take her to her favorite painting spot. Forest Grove Cemetery was old, one that the city had stopped using a while back, but it was still visited and kept clean, filled with old statuary and wildflowers and moss. It was odd, but she always felt at peace here. Today, she had all day to paint, she’d brought her materials and a backpack of packed lunch, snacks and water, but now…

She looked behind her as she parked her bike near the entrance gate, sure that she’d do so at some point and see ...him. It was crazy… but then when was her life sane? She didn’t ask to have these powers. Pulling out the huge drawing pad that was mostly sketched and colored, she set herself on one of the only benches in the cemetery and set to work, following lines that were already there and some that she just knew should be.

“Funny spot for a sunflower, a cemetery.” The voice wrapped around her, honey toned and ...well it might have been soothing, or alluring even, except it scared the holy bejeezus out of her. Whipping around, she clutched her book to her chest and froze. It was him, the demon from before, leaned against the tree watching her. He looked for all intents and purposes, human.. But she could see past his glamour magic. An Incubus demon. His skin a deep blue, black horns curling back and up away from his face, a face that looked both softly sensual and so sharply beautiful that it hurt, and was dotted by silver piercings. The horns seemed more prominent where his hair was shaved on the sides, and where his human mask had blue eyes so dark they looked black, now his eyes were like the night sky, full blackness with a swirling blue galaxy that almost made you drown in them. He was… sinnfully gorgeous, built like a swimmer with narrow hips and a lean frame... And he was powerful...she could sense it. The only issues she had right at the moment was the cigarette that dangled from his hands as he pulled it from a pack in his jacket and lit up. He watched her curiously, smirk on his lips when she hadn't replied, only stared. “What’s the matter, sunflower? Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“No..” She voiced, hesitating when he raised a brow at her. She frowned at him. “Those things smell awful by the way...” She commented, knowing that since he was a demon, he probably didn’t care much about it possibly affecting his health. Heck it probably did nothing for him besides maybe making him seem ’cool’. He blinked at her, before he smirked again and snuffed out the cigarette, chuckling. “You can see through my disguise, can’t you?” He gestured at his body, “Not many humans can, although you’re not the first…” He sighed, straightening out and stretching like a big cat. He reminded her of some large jungle cat with the way his lithe blue tail swished back and forth lazily… maybe he meant more with that analogy of his. She wondered what kind of demon he was, she could feel his power, like warm breath over her skin. It was… nice, but why could she feel it? She’d been around other demons, and fae, and while they held power, most were uninterested in her, didn’t see her even. Was he pushing it to touch her? Was there supposed to be an effect? It was odd, Andras let his power pool around her and yet… she simply stared at him, up close he could see the freckles across her face. But there was no feeling of lust, and her hazel green eyes didn’t linger over him, her pupils didn’t dilate in want... she wasn’t affected by him. That fact hit him like a ton of bricks. Not that there weren’t beings that held immunity to incubus powers, though it was a small range especially for one of his lineage and status but.. for a human to have no effect well, that was a rare thing. “You gonna answer me sunflower?”

“Yes, I can see what you are..” She spoke softly, trailing off. She was nervous, he could see it in the way her fingers played with the ridges of her book. But it was the nerves of a potential prey likely to bolt, it wasn’t anticipation he saw normally with females. She licked her lips as he stepped forward. “Look, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything by staring..You caught my eye…. Not that I mean anything like that by the way..”

“No.. staring’s fine.” He grinned, interrupting her ramblings. He was trying to read her, appear.. charming, playful...she tilted her head a bit and he continued. “I was curious to see what you were up to all alone, like I said, a cemetery is an odd place for a sunflower.” He stepped closer. Her eyes widened a little at that and she made to stand up, leaning away. Okay he probably could have worded that better.

“Why do you..” She started, then looked down at her shirt and flushed a little. “I’m not a sunflower. I’m sketching and I don’t want any trouble so...you can be on your way Mister Demon.” She mumbled, and Andras was confused. When she didn’t say anything else, it was clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him...still that didn’t deter him.

He stepped closer again and it brought her gaze up in a hurry… was she… scared of him? “It's not everyday I get shooed away by a pretty girl. I’m not gonna hurt you.. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’d like me if you tried.” He purred, winking and putting on a smile. “At least tell me your name?”

This time she did stand up, shoving her padbook into her bag with a small frown in her lips. He was being.. a creep. Was this normal for an Incubus? Didn’t he know that commenting to a girl that she was all alone and secluded with some stranger with every potential to hurt her was… scary? Again, she felt his warm power and realized that he was.. Flirting..? Trying to seduce her? Heat crept up her cheeks, not only by realizing what he was doing but also for what he kept calling her. And she really didn’t feel like giving him her name. Clearing her throat, she looked down at her stuff then back to him. “Listen.. I’m sorry mister demon but… I didn’t ask to be able to see the real you.. And I’m not interested in…” she gestured her hands, “yeah, so you can ...just not... with the names and flirting. I just came here to sketch and I’m sure you have much more fun things to do like parties and whatnot... so..yeah...” She trailed off again, hesitating in her speech. She didn’t want to be mean, or piss him off...right now he seemed laid back, non threatening. But that could change. Grabbing her backpack she turned away in a hurry.

Andras blinked, a frown of his own turning to a confused scowl. “Hey! Wait a minute.. Hey, sunflower..!” His voice caught her before she could get far and she paused, turning to him with another frown. “I don’t mean to be a pest. If it’ll help, I’ll tell you my name?” He asked, whatever small awkwardness he held melting away. She had to admit, he was charming.

“What’s your name then?” She asked, and he seemed to brighten up.

“Andras.” He answered her, giving a mock bow that seemed to be more sensual than romantic. “And what can I call you? If not a sunflower?” he chuckled. She paused again and then smirked.

“See ya around then.. Andras.” Not answering and then she was off, heading down the path and disappearing off into the cemetery. He was… stunned. And he didn’t even get her name! He huffed as he pulled out another cigarette and stopped, scoffing a laugh when her words in his head came back. Smells bad? He never thought to care about that, and most people didn’t comment on it.

He thought about going after her again, but instead, he turned and stopped when something caught his eye.... On the bench where she had been sitting was a folded piece of paper, stuck as if she’d dropped it. He shoved his cigarettes back into his pocket, walking over to pick it up.... and smiled. Looks like fate had other plans for his runaway sunflower...and what the hell, he liked the chase.

Disappearing in a cloud of blue tinted smoke, he set out to make some plans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her bike tires skidded to a halt in front of what used to be an old book store. A few months back they’d renovated it into some sort of building for art classes and after working overtime, she’d signed up to take one. The flyer, that she couldn’t for the life of her remember where she put it, had said that each week was a different theme or lesson and it seemed...exciting. Maybe it would inspire her to draw something other than..

Again she shook herself from whatever weird dreams she’d been having that week and parked her bike against the building. It was a little later in the evening but it seemed to be the only time she could do with her work schedule, she just hoped she wasn’t too late. As she headed inside though, she was relieved to see a smaller gathering, probably ten or fifteen people, all standing around mingling. The room was nicely lit and a warmer temperature than outside, to the right of the room was a circle of chairs and easels set up around what looked like a platform. That made her pause...in her dream last night-

“Hey! Welcome to the class, you must be Cassie?” A middle aged woman with white blonde hair came up to her, breaking her thoughts.

“Ah! Yes ma’am.” She answered politely, feeling nervous when others turned her way. She wasn’t as dressed up today, since she’d be painting, she wore a big shirt that had star trek next generation on it and some ripped jeans, both already had paint on it. All that coupled with her beanie and reading glasses, made her look like a nerd and a boy...a look she liked but often felt out of place around others.

“Great, thanks for joining us! My name is Sofia, we spoke on the phone? We were expecting another person but they canceled on us. Still, For today’s class, we’ll be painting a live nude model, I mentioned this right?” She asked and Cass assured her that yes she knew of what this week entailed. Though, something in her brain nagged at her, why did this particular room look so familiar?

Sofia had her fill out a form, and then called the class to order, no time for deja vu thoughts when she got to set up her paints for her easel, grabbing her pencil to sketch first. It was then, she found out, why the room looked so familiar. Sofia introduced the model with a flush on her cheeks, and a hush fell over the room as Andras walked in from behind a screen she hadn’t noticed at the back of the room. She froze in place while the others awed over him, he was just as gorgeous as before but.. what hit her most... was that this moment was her dream last night.. She had seen this, him, in her dreams, dreamt of tracing his lines with her pencils.. her fingers... He noticed her with a breathtaking smile as he introduced himself and stepped onto the platform. He was once again in his human guise, and yet she could see past it if she tried hard enough. And then he was shedding his robe, and while the idea of sex had never appealed to her, she felt... something in her stir as she took him in...he was a work of art.

“Alright Andras, give us a comfortable, natural pose and hold it. We’ll break when you need to.” Again, Sofia’s voice cut through her thoughts and Andras posed as she explained that they were going to take everyone’s unique style in the form of real life sketches first. But Cassie’s mind was already going, and so was her hand.

She always went to a different place when drawing, and when painting, but here it was like the two of them were the only in the room. He hadn’t chosen a provocative pose, one arm bent up and the other reaching down, he looked like a greek god, or a statute of one. She sketched the lines of his face, the curve of his mouth, his hair, shaved on the sides and wild on top, black and soft, and each piercing in his ear, nose and lips. His upper body was studded, small raised patterns of skin, like scars made purposefully, they traveled across his chest and down his stomach. For some reason, drawing him, drawing him in hard lines seemed wrong, so instead she used soft curves and watched him come to life on canvas...and that made him more real than him standing no less than ten feet away.

Before she knew it, Miss Sofia was calling for a break and Andras was stretching, moving again and completely comfortable with being in the nude. There was chatter, a few people flocking to Andras to ask him questions as he robed up and Sofia gave him a bottle of water. Cass...stayed seated. She followed the lines of her pencil, letting it complete the curves and edges that was him. Somehow she’d managed to capture some sort of emotion on his face, mischievous, wistful, lusting… distant.

“Do sunflowers always sit by themselves?” His voice startled her and just as she whipped her head up to see him standing behind her...she caught his reaction to her drawing. His face said he was impressed, but there was also.. A softer something in his face. He was so...tall, she mused. He seemed to shake himself though and smile down at her. “You have some wicked talent.” That got her to flush red more than any of his attempted flirting had. “Thank you.. Um, could you not call me sunflower?” She asked, dropping her gaze as he took the seat beside her. She wasn’t even wearing that shirt anymore.

“Not a chance.” He grinned, “You never told me your name. But I stilI found you.~” he sang with a small laugh. She frowned at that, found her?

“You were looking for me?” She tilted her head, confused, “Why?” She didn’t leave the cemetery that day.. He could have followed her, but he didn’t.

Andras wondered how she could make such an innocent gesture look so ...cute, and it was surprising to him that he thought something like that. He sipped his water and sat back with a smirk. It was easy for him to stretch out, feel all of the eyes in the room on him. But hers wasn’t in want. “Because you’re a bit of a mystery. Won’t tell me your name and hang out in graveyards? And you can see me. The real me.” He watched again as her hazel eyes dropped to her hands. What was she hiding? And again while he could feel the lust off of everyone in the room, from the instructor to the only two males, all of them lighting up on his radar, she alone was a blank spot. All of the others' works had seemed innately sexual but hers...there was something different.

This time she rolled her eyes a little. “Cass, my name is Cass, or Cassie if you like.” she said, her eyes lifting up, looking through him more than at him. “Did you seriously sign up as the model to get to me?” She asked and when she put it so bluntly…he guessed that he was being a bit stalkerish.

“What can I say? You left an impression on me.” He smiled. It was just then that the instructor lady got his attention, asking if he was ready to continue their session. He said he was, glancing once more to Cass, and stood up. Looking at Cassie's painting and then back up to her, he gave another dazzling grin, “Paint me like one of your french girls?” He asked.

And she laughed, head back and eyes closed, a loud sound like he’d caught her off guard. Something in Andras liked that, that he’d made her laugh, and he gave her another smile as he stepped up to the platform and shed the robe again.

He resumed his pose, able to look right at her, though she seemed once again to just be looking through him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks followed and for some reason it bothered Andras that he hadn’t seen her since then. She’d only shown up at the one art class, and when he asked about her, the instructor woman had even said she’d left her painting to be displayed. He declined sticking around after that… after he bought the painting with enough cash to buy the studio. One reason why it had been weeks was because he had to feed, at least once or twice a week depending on the “meal” available but when he wasn’t doing so, he was.. quite literally hanging around, bored out of his skull and hoping… to see her. He went back to the cemetery several times, but no luck. Out of all the flowers there, not a single one was the sunflower he wanted to see.

He scrubbed a hand down his face with a growl as he walked down the street, when did he become such a fucking sap? Why was he still hung up on one human woman? She obviously didn't want to be around him. And again...humans were predictable, weak...except he didn't think that she fell into that category. Still, he felt wondrously bored out of his skull and a bored demon wasn’t something anyone wanted. Maybe it was time to let this all go, move on to another city.

“Andras?” The voice halted his steps, and he turned to see...Cass. She was standing in the doorway of a small pottery shop that was wedged in between two larger buildings, a tote bag tucked under one arm and a curious expression on her face. Well.. fate had other plans once again. “Are you stalking me again?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow in his direction and stepping off the step of the shop.

“No.” He winced, because...had he been? Kinda. Maybe. Okay he had been. “Well not really,” He amended, “I've been hoping to find you again but no such luck. But fate has led me to my sunflower.” He smiled, charming and cheesy all at once. He watched her frown, pursing her lips a bit though her eyes rolled and he caught amusement as she moved past him to a small alleyway where her bike was parked.

“It’s not sunflower, remember? It’s Cass. And fate is stupid.” She grumbled, pouting her lips. He wondered why the sour tone. Was that really how she felt about fate, not that he could fault her on that really, or was it his presence that made her frown like that. He couldn’t have that.

“My apologies, Cass.” He smiled again and followed after her as she set her bag into the basket on the front of the bike. “And yeah, fate is a tricky mistress. I'll give you that. And yet just when I'd given up, you popped up in my sights. So that must count for something right?”

She eyed him, relaxing a touch and sighing a little. “I guess so.” Though she felt otherwise on the matter for sure… still it wasn’t his fault. Not really, especially when she had other reasons he didn’t even know of, that made her stance on the cruelty of fate more concrete. She was stolen from her thoughts by the warmth touching her again, his power? Or did he just radiate that? Looking up, she could see him watching her, his curious dark eyes… it didn’t take much to see past the illusion he held of being human, and the real him was just as flawless. Why was he so interested in her? He could have.. Anyone. Was it her odd powers that lured him?

She shook her head. “So, you’ve found me...again, what now? I told you that I’m not interested in flirting.” She said, her tone was softer, unsure of what he wanted but wanting to remind him, casual sex was off the table.

“Hey, even I know that no means no. I’m not here to seduce you,” and then his smile turned to a grin, his voice a lower purr. “Not unless you want me to try. I do like the chase.” he teased, quick to drop that tone and she was grateful. “but really, I just feel drawn to you. And though I’m not sure why yet, I’d like to find out.” He admitted, shifting again from the role of wicked incubus, that bit of awkwardness she’d glimpsed before coming back. “There’s something there, I know it..” He said and Cass found herself taking a breath to steady herself. Of course there was something more...but she couldn't tell him that. Could she?

“You hungry?” Cass blurted before she lost courage, picking at the edges of the tote bag in her bike basket. This was stupid.. She didn’t get involved with demons...But Andras grinned. “And if I am?” he asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, hanging low on his hips. She looked at him then, and again, no lust or want or arousal, but nerves.

Cass shoved at her hair and pushed a headband back through it, away from her face. “I just got off work,” She pointed to the pottery shop, “We could.. grab a bite to eat? And maybe talk.” She probably sounded stupid.

“Alright, let’s go then.” Andras said and stepped in close. She barely had time to protest before he was pushing her bike down the street, her trying to keep up with his long strides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cass dipped another fry into her milkshake, kicking her feet because she was too short in the booth to touch… which he found cute really. She was more than cute, she held a softer beauty, one that felt feminine… yet not, he couldn’t describe it. He’d been with males and females, and those that felt they were neither, both or in between.. Bodies that were warm and soft or hard and rugged...he liked them all. And she was no exception. He had seen first her outer beauty but there was something.. More. Again, it was difficult to describe the pull she held. “I know that it’s not the most...unbelievable thing, not to people like you.” She said softly, “But I don’t exactly go around broadcasting my… abilities.” She shrugged, munching on her food, glancing around to the only semi busy burger joint.

“I mean, that’s understandable.. and I did stalk you.” He grinned at her, completely unashamed of his actions apparently. But she smirked, a twitch of her lips that made him notice the dimples she very barely had. “And by the way sunflower, there are no people like me.” he added on, watching her roll her eyes, protesting that she was not a sunflower. “But you are human, and you have... a power to you. A pull… help me understand why that is? I know you didn’t ask me to lunch just because.” He knew that if it had been someone else, his charming smile and sensual allure could have them eating out of his hands, but Cass seemed wary. Like a nervous cat about to be caged, and he didn’t want to scare her off. It felt… awkward, trying to get someone to open up to him with actual… effort.

Cass seemed to purse her lips in thought, her eyes dropping to what was left of her food, before launching into her life story. She told him about her powers, unstable as they were, how things, demon or otherwise, were always drawn to her and how she had visions that often caused her to black out from the force of them. It was why she rode a bike instead of driving. “My parents didn’t have powers.. in fact they hated that I did and tried to get the church involved.” She winced, very vividly remembering what cruelty they had dealt her. Then there was her sister, a few years older and just… gone one night. She’d said goodbye, a sleepy memory that she tried to hold onto but part of Cassie felt that she’d been abandoned.

“And you’ve had visions of me?” Andras asked, listening to her as though she weren’t babbling nonsense. A waitress came by, slipping her phone number in with the check, smiling and touching him as though she couldn’t help but to do so, she completely looked Cassie over, which didn’t bother her much. She was used to it for the most part. Andras though, seemed to preen at the attention and tucked her number into his pocket with a wink. It hit her that she’d only seen him as a demon now, she didn’t see his disguise though she knew it was there otherwise the waitress would have freaked.

“Sort of?” She questioned, mostly herself more than his question. “I’ve seen you.. before I saw you on the street, I mean. In dreams and such. I had a vision where I was just.. happy, and you were there.” A tint of warm pink touched her cheeks when she admitted that. “But for the most part I don’t know how to interpret the things I see. They aren’t always accurate or certain and time changes the outcome so.. I try to avoid it.” She spoke softly now but seemed less tense.

Andras sat back in the booth. “Well that makes sense. You’re what us.. Other folks would call a Seer.” He’d met more than one and none were ever alike.. and that did explain the pull he had towards her, but not why she had no reaction to him. Cass nodded like she was familiar with the term. “But, have you ever considered finding someone to work with your powers? You’re young but If someone my power level is drawn to you..” He knew that he had meant her no harm but… there were always those that did out there. Cass looked away.

“I usually outrun them.. When they find me.” She voiced and he frowned.

“Who’s they?” He asked, though he had an inkling as to who she meant.

“Demons, fae, vampires once. People who think that I can control this and scare me..” She admitted. She didn’t know why she felt like admitting this to him. She had thought of running from him too. But maybe it was their constant meeting, or maybe.. She did find him charming in a way. Andras paid, though Cassie protested and as he walked her down the street, Cass pushing her bike, he again brought up the idea of seeking someone to help her harness her power.

“I tried to go to a psychic.. One of those ones that claimed to read fortunes.. But she was a farce.” Cass explained. It had been embarrassing and frustrating to have someone read a premade astrology horoscope to her, not listening once to her problems and seeming irritated for voicing them. She stopped pushing her bike and looked up at him as he stopped too. “Why are you so interested in helping me..?”

“I can’t let other demons stalk you now, it’s my job.” Andras grinned with a wink, and of course, he was rewarded with a smile. “Look, let me pull some strings. Least I can do is help out my new friend yeah?” He stuck out his hand. At this, she brightened and reached out, shaking his hand.

“Okay.” She agreed, liking the idea that he could be a friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @doodledream @jellyflux @serenitydusk @sunrisehoneybee @ijwrff @the-dying-red-rose @junepop45 @no-need-to-apply @nickthegiantboi (its not gt but I hope you don’t mind me tagging you) @scribbles-main-blog @matronofthevoid @bee-wrecker @spooky-scary-lesbian If I forgot anyone Im so sorry! >.< And if you want to be tagged just let me know!

#My writing #my ocs #fluff!#some mentions of sex #Part 1 #incubus #human

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cilliansaccent · 5 years ago

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The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 19

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!!

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 2,766

!!Warnings!!: Intense smut at the beginning!!

Date: February 2017

Chapter Name: Cillian, I’m...

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabbie spends her morning rolling around in bed with Cillian before he finds a certain stick...

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Last night... God, Gabrijela could not believe it. Cillian had come to see her, and he was real. Even as she rolled, well, she couldn't roll over because he was curled up behind her as the big spoon. Their legs tangled together and their hands held to her chest.

He woke her up with kisses pressed to her neck, making her body arch a little as he fondled her breast, "I missed you so much." He said in that heavy, sleepy voice. His fingers pressed together around her nipple and she moaned.

"I've missed you too, baby." She laughed softly as his lips claimed hers. They kissed for a while before she was the one to break it and sit up slowly, his hand that was positioned under her head now moved to stroke her back lovingly.

"I've yet to count every freckle on your body," Cillian mused, resting on his back.

She liked the feeling of those soft fingers caressing her skin, "I got a lot," She giggled.

"More than me. All over that beautiful face, shoulders, chest, legs..." He had sat up and kissed her shoulder and then moved across to her neck where his arms snaked around her and she was laid back with him on top.

She laughed as she felt his hardness brush against her leg, "Oh Cillian, is someone horny?" She groaned when he pushed into her.

"Yeah." He said, grabbing her wrists and pinned them above her head, "All I thought about was you when you had gone. I wanted you back in my arms." He grunted as he began to thrust into her.

Her body lit up with pleasure he gave her, his face tucked into her neck as he panted softly, "Fuck Cillian." She wanted to hold on to him as he got faster but he held her arms tightly.

Cillian made love to her body once more, letting her arm go with one hand to cock her leg up against his hip, it made him go deeper within her and she clearly loved that with the graceful arch of her back and the way her lips were parted. He could see in her eyes how much she loved this, how much she loved him for that matter. If life was good, he could do this to her every day.

But right now, he wanted to try something a little different. He eased back on his knees and kept her legs parted, "Raise your hips." He said and she did so. He held them up so half her body was suspended off the bed and he began to go hard.

Oh, lord, this made him go further into her and pushed against some areas she had not known to exist. It made the pleasure more intense and her climax closer.

She pushed against the headboard with her hands, crying out, "Cillian! Ah!" She watched as the muscles in his arms strained as he held her up, he was in such concentration of what he was doing. He was so hot with those furrowed brows, jaw set tight.

"Come on love, oh, love I can feel you close. Your walls are sucking me in." He had a cheeky smirk as he gave it his hardest to her.

Her moans were sweet as they filled the air, getting louder as she neared her climax. It was then she peaked and bucked her hips and arched her back before she spilled herself all over his cock.

Cillian let out a bark and a curse as he came with her, thrusting fast before he slowed down and eased her back on the bed and moved back on top of her. He cupped the back of her head and tangled his fingers in her blond hair and kissed her passionately.

Gabrijela smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "Baby." She murmured as he rubbed her nose against hers.

"Love," he replied with equal quiet, as if someone may hear them.

"We should take a shower," She said, her hands tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck.

"But cuddles," he said kissing her gently.

"We can do that after." She kissed him back and wiggled so he moved off her. She got off the bed and deliberately bent over before she slowly stood.

Cillian made an odd sound much like a growl when she did that, he looked between her thighs, slick with their joined fluids. He moved before she could escape and grabbed her, pulling her back in and making her bend over.

"Cillian, what the- Oh my god." She let out a moan as his tongue dragged up the inside of her thigh and to her wet sex, where he lapped her up nice and clean. "Mmm!" She reached behind and gripped his hair as he gave her a quick tongue fuck. She had nothing to grab on as he ravished her from behind, the sounds he made vibrated right to her hardened nipples.

Then he let her go, giving her a little shove in which she stumbled forward, "Fucking devil." She growled, turning to look at him, "Come." She said, making a come hither motion with a single finger.

Cillian licked his lips, getting to his feet and prowled to her, "We gonna shower together?" He reached her, hands on her hips as he backed her to the threshold of the bathroom, her hands sliding up his chest.

"Yeah, and your gonna have your breakfast." She bit his bottom lip, dragging it out a little as she pushed his hands away and went to set the large shower up.

He followed her and had her pressed to the glass outside the shower when she had turned it on, "Cillian no," She moaned, his cock hard against her ass.

"You want me again?" He murmured hotly against her neck, making her legs weak. His voice was a caress on her soul.

"I always want you, baby." She wiggled her ass, liking the feeling of him there. "But let's get inside. It's more fun." She smirked and sidestepped and stepped into the shower, pulling him in.

Cillian's arms wrapped around her as they stood under the warm spray, their lips connected in a fight for dominance. She felt this change in him, he was more controlling suddenly as she lost against the kiss as his tongue fought in and explored every crevice inside her mouth.

Then she was back against the tiled wall, the cold making her gasp and arch into him as he kissed down her neck, leaving marks as he went down. Holy fuck, she thought, how she would hide this she had no clue.

Her nipples were tugged and sucked on, pinched and twisted in a way he remembered how she liked it. Pleasure laced with pain.

And further he went, reaching the apex of her thighs, the treasure he was oh so drunk on. He used his hands to flatted out on her thighs and push them apart, "Spread yourself for me, love. Let me see."

She reached down with both hands and using her pointer fingers, she pried her slit apart.

He eyed those lovely pink petals falling open to reveal that velvet delight, "Touch yourself." He said.

"Where, baby?" She panted, his fingers were so close to her core.

"Your clit." He watched as her fingers moved to the little bundle and she began to rub herself there. Her moans were gentle, her body shaking a little from the sensitivity she usually got after her first climax.

"Good girl," he praised, kissing her wrist as he watched her play with herself.

"Cillian-" She gulped, her legs twitchy.

"That's it, here, let me overtake now." He moved her hands away and leaned in, her breath hitching as his lips brushed her clit. And then he latched on causing her to jump and her hands on his head. He sucked on her with a laziness that made her whine, his tongue slipping out to part her more with slow laps.

The pleasure was different, slower and more... casual. But she knew he wouldn't last long like this, he never could go slow with her. She was too delicious to hold back her climax.

But Cillian continued on, tasting her as if she would disappear or that she was the most valuable thing on earth. He raised his hand to her entrance, pushing two fingers into her knuckle deep. He began to finger her, slowly but got faster. His lips never left her clit, holding on to her for life as her hips began to rock against his face.

Gabrijela was so overly sensitive and she was close to her second climax for the morning. She could hear her phone vaguely calling but she had no care for it, she concentrated on Cillian and what he was doing. "Oh! FUCK! Cillian! I'm cumming!" She cried out as she writhed against his thrusting fingers and mouth as she came hard.

He held himself there as she came before he stood up and kissed her deeply without letting her talk. He felt her hands wrap around his cock and pump him, he let her do so.

Gab was shaking from the pleasure that rocked her body, and she wanted to reciprocate it back to Cillian. She gripped him harder as she rubbed him faster, meeting his gaze, "Feels good baby?"

"Feels so good," He nodded, his hands braced on the wall, head bowed.

"Oh yeah, you feel nice in my hands. I love it." She giggled before she slowly sunk to her knees.

"Love, you don't needoooh god." He moaned as her lips wrapped around his tip before she took him almost to the base. Her head began to bob as she sucked him off, her hand cupped his balls and squeezed and tugged them enough for him to moan in pleasure.

Gab loved going down on him, she had the power at this moment. She went fast then slow, pulled back to breathe and continued on. She could feel the twitch in his cock, knowing he was close. He better be, after all that sucking on her he had done.

Cillian gripped her hair making her go faster and gag on his cock, he needed her to go down on him more often... But fuck... she was... addictive. Did he already say she was? Yeah, he did. It wasn't long when he grunted and thrust as he came into her mouth, his head was thrown back as a moan escaped him.

Gabbie swallowed his load before she slowly stood and giggled at him, "God you always ruin me." She murmured as he pulled her close.

"And I want to keep going." He said and kissed her deeply.

They spent another ten minutes in the shower, Cillian making her at least come another two times before she had enough.

Cillian pecked her lips as he washed up and left her to tend to herself, he would get ready for the day.

She was done soon after and dried her hair, combed it with her fingers and braid it back from her face. She hadn't brought her clothes in so she walked out.

Cillian was sitting on the bed on the other side in his Calvins, facing the large window that over-looked the harbour.

"Cillian?" Gabrijela frowned as she picked up her clothes and slipped them on. She watched him move a little, head bowed then he looked up. Something was wrong, she could see the tension in his shoulders as she came over and... A soft gasp escaped her.

He was holding the pregnancy stick in his hands, the one she had taken yesterday. She felt all the emotions hit her at once, and her legs had gone weak and not because of what just happened not long ago.

"Cilly? I... I only... I only found out yesterday." She slowly sunk on the bed beside him. "I-I want you to... I want you to know that I haven't been with anyone else but you... Please know that. I wanted to tell you but I had no idea how to approach the idea because holy fuck I am pregnant with your baby and I am so, so, so scared and I can't tell what you are thinking right now because you are not looking at me and oh my god I don't even know what to tell my parents." She said with no breath and felt tears sting her eyes. "Cillian, please, god talk to me." She touched his shoulder, he was so damn tense.

His handsome face turned to her, blue eyes full of emotion but she had no idea what, "Are you really pregnant?" He asked.

She looked at the stick, "I am." She could feel her nausea creep upon her, "I'm about to go run to the bathroom and throw up again, so yeah." She gulped, "It's still early but... I am unsure what to do, Cillian. It's so much but... I want to know if you... If you want to keep it."

He looked back at the stick, running his thumb over where the double lines were, "I found it outside of your bag, must've fallen out when we came in last night." He said before he glanced at her hands which were shaking and white from how hard she gripped them together.

His hand pried them apart and he held her hand, "My love, I never thought I was... able to have a child at my age but, here we are, huh?" He pulled her closer, kissing her knuckles, "Gab, I will do whatever you want to do. I am happy with whatever decision you make, I support you." He said softly.

"No, Cillian. No." She shook her head and pulled her hand back, "You can't do that. You need a say in this, we are talking about a life here." She said, brows furrowed.

He sighed, rolling the stick between his fingers, "I know, but it is your body to, Gabbie. I... If we do agree to go on with this, I want you to know that I will support you in every way possible. Even if we are far apart, I will send money for whatever tests there are and I might fly over-"

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, "I love you." She said softly.

His hands gripped her arms gently, "I love you too, beautiful. I am here for you, every step of the way. But only if we can decide what to do."

She looked down at her tummy, her hand going over it, "I cannot think to... get rid off it. So I guess... I guess I will keep it. Would you like that?"

He gave her a fantastic smile, "I'd be honoured, my love. I would be so, so honoured." His hand rested over hers, "When it gets close, I want to know. I want to be here when you are ready." He said.

She laughed as tears fell from her face. That was all she wanted to hear from him so she cupped his face and straddled his waist and kissed him, his arms wrapped around her and they kissed with utter joy.

"My favourite man ever," She ran her fingers down his cheek, "I am so glad I met you."

He laughed lightly, "I am so glad I met you too, my little Peaky designer." He kissed her, muffling her giggles.

After that morning, Gabrijela felt much lighter. She returned the call to her father and said she was going to spend the day with Maya which in fact she was going to be with Cillian.

Today was unplanned so they didn't do much but walk around, took plenty of selfies with each other and kissed a lot, ate at the Bicentennial park on a bench that overlooked the water and... well kissed more.

They spent the rest of the late afternoon in bed, watching TV and snuggling and then it was the painful moment she had to go home to get ready for her next gig tonight.

"I love you." She giggled as they stood in the foyer of the hotel he stayed in, "I'll see you tonight? Might sneak back into that room of yours." She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'd love that. I'll see you tonight, beautiful." He leaned down and kissed her deeply.

They parted ways and she waved good-bye as she headed up to the station, feeling light as a cloud and full of love.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #fanfiction

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princelockedinatower · 5 years ago

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Peppermint

The dark streets aren't a place for anyone or anything at night, that is... except for the ones who have no place within the light to begin with.

I and the others I am meeting are the exception.

I waltz down the carriage lanes of this old sleepy town in my favorite dark jeans and a black knitted sweater, a forest green cloak draped over me with the hood down, catching wisps of dark figures in the corners of my eyes. These creatures are not quite of this world, nor is the figure, visible only by the translucent outlines of white waltzing along with me tonight. The common folk need not fear these creatures, unless you know they exist they are impartial. Then even if you do, leaving out some seeds and honey as an offering will keep you from harm, give them blueberry tea if you want some good luck.

Tonight I climb the hill just beyond the old yew tree the fae adore and that everyone refuses to cut down least they fear a despicable end. No one besides me and a few others dare to climb it at night, they say strange things happen there, dark figures prowling about almost like regular animals, yet their limbs too long and narly. When climbing you’ll get an ice chill down your spine, a sinking feeling in your gut and the one clear thought you can manage out is something along the lines of: I should not be here.

The way I and the other I am meeting ward this off is by leaving generous offerings before we ascend. I find McDonald's fries generally please them, so arriving at the foot I leave four extra large fries and a pack of chicken nuggets, right beside my coven’s other offerings. I can see no figures awaiting me from where I stand, a bad sign usually but I start up the hill against my better judgment.

Reaching the top, my calves are burning, the trek never gets easier. I lean down to massage my right calf, my dyed red hair falling around me and pale skin a sharp contrast in the full moon’s light. As my hood falls over my eyes I spot two figures lying on the ground, one covered with a light blue cloak, dark tightly braided hair and face peeking out, the other a maroon cloak and a hot pink dress.

I address the girl with the maroon cloak first “You hiked this thing in heels? What are you? Cat woman girl?” I ask rummaging through my bag for my supplies.

Bonita laughs “You wish hun, got your supplies?” she says sitting up elbowing Makena.

I nod, both of them standing and whipping out their supplies from their own bags.

We start to set up the temporary alter as Makena speaks, getting our attention “Bonita, Roxy-” she hesitates on her next words, half way done her particular task to set up “This might be the last time we pray and do a spell together, you know, with all of us off to college in a few weeks,” she says, her voice wavering a bit while fiddling with her long curly hair.

Bonita’s eyebrows shoot up and she makes a face before chuckling “If you’re implying that we’re gonna grow apart sweetie while we’re in college you better evaluate dear Roxy’s OCD level schedule of communication and visits,”

Makena blushes and shrinks but laughs with us at my expense.

We make short work of setting up the rest of the altar and preparing to pray.

Tonight I’m going to pray to Sarasvati for help forming and performing my Valedictorian speech, something I desperately need. I’ve been rewriting it for a week now and still haven’t made any headway. I also need to pray to my main hoe Soma to make Grad amazing and Dhat to bless the spell we’re about to do. I’m not sure what Bonita and Makena pray about, or who to, guess I never really asked. Regardless we each get into our preferred positions and pray to whichever gods and goddesses we choose about whichever we want.

The graduation ceremony took place in pitch black, the sun already set, small shifts of movement coming from the rows of seats and the rafters, family and supporters brought together alive and passed, human and not. The only light coming from the spotlights on the stage as Principle Chiba gave an inspirational and touching speech that moved everyone here. Applause began and continued as I replaced Mr. Chiba at the podium, soon it died down and I spoke a silent prayer I would do well before I began.

“Fellow classmates, graduates of 2018, I will not bore you with a lengthy speech going on about things that don’t matter, we all have better things to do. Instead I will give you some words of advice given to me by someone I miss dearly, who has gone on to University in a very far away place yet I remain close to. That advice is to simply, remember to call. Call to say how beautiful the leaves are on the trees outside your dorm window. Call to ask how they’re doing. Call to just say I miss you. Call to make them open their bedroom window because they’re home for the Holidays and you’re outside freezing, 20 ft up in the air on a tree and regretting every life choice you’ve made up to that point. So call, it keeps you close to those you care about. Thank you.”

I don’t think we called enough.

Sitting here, awkwardly in this cafe we used to come to in high school when conversation just flowed, I wonder what went wrong. I know we didn’t follow the schedule, school and life got in the way, but… that shouldn’t stop us from reconnecting.

“So, any special someone in your guys lives?” I ask, a small forced and nervous smile on display as I grasp my mug.

My sister Sofia shoots me a sarcastic thumbs up. I’m tempted to flip her off.

Bonita nods “Their name’s Avery, they’re pretty nice,” she says looking down into her mug.

“I’m not seeing anyone right now actually,” Makena says, taking a bite of her pastry.

I nod my head, this is not going well “That’s nice,” I take a sip from my mug, racking my brain to come up with something to start a decent conversation.

Makena pretends to get a text and looks at her phone “Sorry guys, it’s been fun but my mom wants me home to make sugar cookies, see you later!” she says practically sprinting from the table.

I know she was pretending because she always has her ringer on, in high school it used to get her into so much trouble.

I remember when it went off in the middle of a lock down drill, school took it away for three days, and like any teenagers would we concocted elaborate schemes to get her phone back. None of them worked of course, including the one where Bonita tried to tell the receptionist she was Makena was mom, but we had fun nonetheless.

“I should actually go too, I got some stuff that I need to attend to,” Bonita says laughing half halfheartedly.

I nod and watch her awkwardly leave. Letting out a defeated sigh I let my head fall into my arms. Why was talking to them after a year so hard?

“You ok?” my sister asks, sitting down across from me.

The phase sent me over the edge, tears started spilling into my cardigan then running down my cheeks as I lifted my head. Unable to speak, I shake my head.

She grabs a tissue from her bag and hands it to me “You know you could always try doing something you guys used to do back in high school together,” she suggests sipping her drink.

I sniffled “I don’t know, I noticed Bonita wearing a cross and Makena started wearing a hijab,” I used the tissue to wipe away the tears “They’ve changed a lot…”

My sister nods “Sorry I’m not more help…”

“It’s ok, they’re allowed to change it’s just I didn’t expect them to so much,” I say, my phone starting to vibrate.

It’s Vincent, one of my new friends from Uni, I answer it “Hey tic tac, whatcha need?”

He laughs “Nothing, just want to know how the old reunion is going,”

“Not well, but I know that’s not why you’re calling, what did you do this time?”

“Can’t a friend bug another friend anymore? And besides it’s not me, it’s your roommate, apparently she accidentally turned your sheets orange when washing them,”

I chuckle, and rub my face “How bad is it?”

“Bad, very bad, looks like leftover prison suit material was used, then bleached in some places,”

I laugh genuinely “I’ll be sure to pick up new ones when I get back then,”

“Good, those sheets have seen better days. What’s up with your friends? Thought you were really excited to see them,”

“Well, I was, but… they’ve changed a lot. They’re not the people I used to know back in high school and I don’t know how to reconnect with them,”

Vincent sighs “You’re not gonna like what I have to say about this but you need to hear it,-” he pauses and I scrunch up my face. What could he possibly have to say that I wouldn’t like? “-Sometimes, through no fault of anyone involved, relationships just… don’t last,”

I blank for a second, shocked he’d even say something like that. “What the hell? What am I-”

“You didn’t let me finish!” he interrupts his voice weakly raising an octave. I huff but let him continue“Sometimes they don’t last because people just change too much, and that’s no one fault, people need to change so they can grow. And sometimes that means you change so much people lose connection because there’s nothing to connect with. That doesn’t make sense, umm, ok, take two people at the start of a relationship. They both love to… drink coffee so every day they go out to drink coffee,”

I chuckle a little raising an eyebrow “Coffee? That’s the best you can come up with?”

He shushes me playfully “Anyways, so a little later in this friendship one decides to give up coffee due to Insert Reason Here and they stop hanging out as often. Since their entire relationship is based on coffee and now that’s been taken away, they don’t have anything in common. They drift apart and remember each other as a good friend they had,”

I nod and ponder what he said “So… people can just drift apart? In that situation aren’t you supposed to try to make new common interests?”

“Yah, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen for whatever reason and that’s where my wisdom comes in!” I can feel his overblown and ridiculously camera smile of annoyance from the other side of the country.

“I’m throwing a pillow at you when I get back,” I say going to hang up, his laughter ringing out.

My sister’s nowhere to be seen, probably went to the washroom. I remain sitting, my drink all gone and the sun dipping down to paint everything a nice shade of orange.

I wonder if Vincent had a point. I had tried to reconnect with my friends, but they just… were too changed from when I knew them… I could keep trying, but how many times would I sit through awkward conversations that lead nowhere before we reconnected or they started making up excuses not to come?

I sigh out loud and play with my empty cup. Why do people and relationships have to be so difficult?

I realize Vincent’s right… Why for the love of the gods does Vincent have to be right this one time?

Sighing again I begrudgingly move up my flight up to this Thursday, two days from now. My parents moved after I graduated high school and my sister was seeing her friends so it wasn’t like it was an inconvenience to anyone.

My sister reappears and sits down “Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt your phone call, had to go to the washroom,”

“That’s ok, I was just about to leave, -” I stand up and hesitate to continue “-I also moved up my flight to this Thursday…”

“You sure? Shouldn’t you try to reconnect a little harder?” she asks, walking with me to the door.

I sigh “Yes, sometimes people just grow apart and despite their best efforts they just don’t recover,” I mentally kick myself for quoting Vincent, the jerk would never let me live it down. I grab a peppermint from the little bowl as we exit and pop it in my mouth.

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” she comments getting in her rental car “Want me to drive you to the airport?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I say with a sad smile.

Watching her drive off and getting into my car, I feel my heart droop, finally realizing that was the last time I’d probably see my old friends again but, I also feel like a sense of dread has been scrubbed off of me.

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elliearchive · 6 years ago

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DATE NIGHT ➝ GRANBIN.

TAGGING ➝ Grant McCarthy, Robin St. James.

LOCATION ➝ Grant and Robin’s house.

TIME FRAME ➝ Right after Grant’s parents left like a month ago but this has awkwardly been sitting in my drafts oops.

WARNINGS ➝ None (can we believe it’s sfw??)

NOTES ➝ Grant surprises Robin with a cute little living room date.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant absolutely hated when anyone was rude to Robin. It was just unacceptable. It was no different when his parents did it. It made his blood boil. No one should ever disrespect the love of his life right in front of him like that, and he had told them as much. He was happy that they were gone, but he still felt bad. So, he wanted to make it up to her. He had to make it up to her. He knew that she wasn’t going to hold how his parents acted against him, but he was holding it against himself. He was going to be her husband someday soon. A good husband didn’t let her get treated that way. The house was covered in dark purple tulips, maybe a little too many, but he didn’t care. Caroline was back with her mother and her husband, so the house was back to being just theirs. Although, Caroline hadn’t been the one they were trying to get rid of. Taking the day off work to get everything ready hadn’t really been a hassle at all. The brewery didn’t need him on a day to day basis. Plus, he needed to get it all done during the day while Robin was at work. Usually he would have laid out wine for the two of them, but since she wasn’t really drinking neither was he, but he’d put out some sparkling cider for the two of them, just like he had the night on the boat. He poured two glasses of it and rested them on their table. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he waited for her, periodically checking his watch to see if it was closer to the time she would be coming home. Clover was really interested in all the food Grant had set up, which made him laugh. He knew Robin would get a kick out of Clover crashing their romantic date. “Babe!” He called out once he heard the door opening. “I’m in the living room,” he muttered, taking a spot on the floor where he’d set up a comfortable area for them to sit on. She was pregnant, with twins, so her comfort was the most important thing.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

The last week or so had probably been the most exhausting one of Robin’s life. Grant really hadn’t been kidding when he’d warned her about his parents; they were not nice people. As much as she disliked where things had ended with them, though, Robin knew she’d done all she could to try to get them to like her, and it was evidently just never going to happen. So, once they were gone, she felt like she could finally relax again, and she knew there was no point in dwelling on anything they’d said or done during their visit. It was easy for her to focus on work, and to walk through she and Grant’s door with a smile on her face like usual, something that’d been lacking a little bit with his parents around. “I don’t know who babe is,” Robin called back, closing the door behind her with a smirk. Clover of course came rushing to greet her, so she leaned down to scoop him up, letting him lick her face as she carried him through to the living room. “I’m a robber, I’m here to steal all of your things.” Her attention was of course on Clover and how excited he was to have her home, and then Calla had come prowling from the kitchen, too. They were definite crowd grabbers, though Robin’s gaze swept over the living room once she’d walked in properly, taking in everything Grant had set up. “Baby,” she smiled softly, tossing her purse down onto the couch, then went to examine the purple flowers laid around everywhere. “What is all of this?” She turned to walk over to her fiancé, leaning down to both set Clover down, and to kiss Grant gently on the cheek, before taking a seat on the floor beside him. “Did you plan a date for us?” Her smile never fell as she looked his way, eyes filled with total adoration. “Or is this you proposing again? Because I can act surprised. Try me.” She teased, leaning over to take his chin between her thumb and pointer, then tilted his face toward hers, capturing his lips with her own. “You’re adorable.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

“Honey, robbers don’t usually announce that they’re going to steal everything,” Grant teased back as he waited for Robin to join him. She was so silly sometimes. He always found it adorable. He knew Clover was distracting her. Clover was pretty good at being distracting, especially when he wanted one of his parent’s attention. Calla was no different. The kitten had taken to her new home pretty quickly and really just strutted around like she owned the place. So, he knew Robin arriving in the living room with him would be slightly delayed by the animals constantly requesting her attention. He also had the same problem when he first came home. It wasn’t really a problem. His parents hadn’t seemed too keen on the pets he now owned. But they didn’t like a lot of the new aspects to his life, including the person he had chosen to spend it with. But he did not care. They were gone. And he knew the smile on Robin’s face when she walked into the living room was going to be worth all of strife they’d gone through during his parents’ visit. He smirked at the sight of her walking in. He was right. Totally worth it. “It’s an apology,” he said with a small smile. He leaned up slightly as she brought herself down to place a kiss on his cheek. A small laugh escaped from his mouth at the joke she’d made about him proposing again. “I will if you want me to. Hand me that ring,” he teased. A bigger smile spread across his face when she pressed her lips against his. That always felt good. He leaned back slightly, the grin on his face still very much apparent, as he let out a sigh of relief. “I felt bad that you had to spend so much time with my parents. This is your house, Rob. You should never feel uncomfortable here. So, I did all of this to make sure this felt like your safe space again.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“Well, this robber does,” Robin teased, evidently much happier today than she had been the entire last week. “Already stole your heart from left field. I have to warn you about the rest.” She was always kind of goofy, so of course her fiancé brought that side out of her even more. She could be completely herself with him, she never had any reason to hold back. Grant was her person, he knew her better than anybody else, which was why this surprise was so perfect; it was everything he knew she’d love. She always enjoyed dates with him, but there was something even more special about it just being the two of them in their living room, and Grant having gone to so much effort to make it something she’d appreciate. “An apology?” She questioned, brow raising. He had nothing to apologize for. Of course he was going to go above and beyond to make up for how terrible his parents had been, though, so she really shouldn’t have been surprised when he explained, and she found herself smiling at him almost sympathetically. “You didn’t have to do that, silly,” she promised, her voice soft. “But I like it. I love it, in fact.” She reached out her hand to settle on top of his. Clover and Calla had of course come to join them, and Robin had to reach over with her free hand to pick the cat up and move her away from the food. “We should probably get used to this, huh? Babies at our date nights,” she joked, her fingers lacing with Grant’s. “It is my safe space, though. I didn’t feel uncomfortable here. I felt uncomfortable with your parents, but you were here, and I always feel comfortable with you. I always have. But you’re incredibly sweet, Mr. McCarthy. And all of this,” she motioned around the room, “Is absolutely perfect.” Her smile turned into a small smirk as she stared at him, then held out her hand. “Take the ring, ask me again.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Robin was such a nerd. But he loved it. Clearly, he loved everything about her. “I thought I was the one that made dad jokes?” They had really come such a long way. There was a time when they were sleeping together and living together, and they barely knew anything about each other. But he knew just about everything about her now. That was why it didn’t surprise him when she acted like a total nerd, it didn’t surprise him. That wasn’t to say she didn’t still surprise him. He was still learning new things about her, but he knew Robin. And he liked to think he knew her better than anyone else did. Apologizing on behalf of his shitty parents was really the least that he could, but he knew that Robin wasn’t really going to let him do it. She loved him too much to sit back and let him beat himself up for how they had treated her. He wasn’t going to stop trying to make up for it though, so she was just going to have to deal with that. He could not help but let out a chuckle at the animals circling around their date like scavengers. She was right. Their date nights would be a thing of the past in a few months. “Yes. But the babies we’re gonna have will be a lot louder and probably more demanding,” he joked, shaking his head. It was going to be a big change to get used to, but he was excited to have two little ones around. Especially two little ones he was going to be raising with the love of his life. It was the best thing. “I just always want to protect you, you know that. It’s my thing,” he smirked, nodding his head.He was glad that his parents hadn’t ruined her ability to feel okay in their home. They’d tried their hardest to drive the two of them apart, but they’d failed miserably. He raised an eyebrow at her when she offered up her hand to him, grinning as he leaned forward to take the ring off her finger. He kneeled as he held the ring out to her, the smirk never leaving his face. “Robin St. James. You are the love of my life. You’re the only woman I want for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“You are. Daddy makes dad jokes, mommy has the cute mom haircut,” Robin grinned, running her fingers through her shorter hair. She loved it, and she’d loved the feeling of Grant tugging on it in bed last night. Then again, he could do just about anything in bed and she was sure she’d love it, but still. It was kind of funny to think about how dirty things had gotten last night, much like many nights between them, compared with them goofing around right now, but that was how they worked. They were just perfect for each other, it didn’t matter whether other people — his parents — agreed or not. They knew it. Their little family was perfect, right down to their greedy dog and kitten. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think anyone’s as demanding as Clover,” she joked, petting the dog on his head as he sniffed around them, clearly waiting for them to offer him some food. “I do know that. I always feel very safe and protected by you. We all do. And you know how much we all appreciate you, right? Me, Caroline, Cupcake, Cinnamon, Clover and Calla, you do so much for all of us, and we’re all so grateful.” It really was his thing, making them all feel as safe as he did. How Robin had settled for someone as careless as Scott before was beyond her now, now that she knew what actual love was, what it felt to actually have someone want to take care of her the way Grant did. He truly was the love of her life, and her favorite thing had been him proposing to her. She couldn’t resist taking him up on what was definitely a joke about doing it again. Her expression was an amused one as he slipped the ring off her finger, with Robin still holding out her hand for him to put it back on. She listened to his words, brows raising in mock surprise.“Wow… This is so unexpected, Grant. I’m gonna have to consult my squad.” She glanced down at her stomach. “Hey, is it cool if I marry your daddy?” She pretended to listen for a moment, then looked back up at Grant with a smile. “Okay, they said yes. I guess I'll marry you.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant actually was a big fan of the so-called mom haircut that Robin had gotten. She was right about how fulfilling it would be to pull on. That was definitely one of his go-to moves because he knew how much she liked it, no matter what position they were in. They were dirty. Plain and simple. Things got freaky between them in their bed, but Grant would not change that for the world. His sex life was pretty vanilla before he met Robin and he could not be happier with the change. He didn’t have any complaints about her, but their sex life was nowhere near being a complaint. He loved every aspect of it. He loved when they were rough and dirty, but he also liked when they took things slow. it didn’t matter. “He’s kind of a princess. I think he gets that from you,” Grant joked, letting out a soft chuckle. He liked being the protector of his family. Even if he did feel like Robin was the one constantly making him feel grounded. He liked knowing that they all could come to him for protection. He liked to think that he had helped Robin get away from Scott and had protected her from the shitty life she was living. “I’m grateful to have all of you. My Robin and my C’s. I love my family,” he sighed out with a smile. He had a family. Technically, he’d always had one, but he was always insecure about the fact that Caroline’s family with him was just two people. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. He pretended to look nervous as he watched her wait for an answer from their babies. “Oh, thank God,” he joked when she accepted his proposal. “I was worried they’d say no. They just know me as that annoying guy that’s always saying boring shit,” he teased, letting out a laugh. “I’m glad they approve.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin really didn’t have a favorite when it came to the way she and Grant acted with one another. Whether they were screaming one another’s names in the bedroom, or they were being goofy and playful like they were right now, she always loved it. She just always loved being around him. He could put her in the best mood on even her worst days, just by being there. Hell, he could help calm her down from a schizophrenic episode just with his presence, so of course. He’d more than made up for his parents’ behavior with all of this, even if Robin didn’t believe he had any reason to. It wasn’t his fault they were jerks. “Oh, he’s a total princess. Even more so with how much you coddle him,” she grinned, looking at the dog as he continued to sniff around. “I bet if he could talk, he’d be one of those kids who comes to me to ask for something, and if I say no, he’d then go to you and look all sad until you gave him what he wanted.” The mental image was funny, mostly because Robin was pretty sure that was the way it would be with their babies. She was a goof, but she’d probably be the tougher parent. Grant didn’t know how to say no to her, so he’d have no hope of doing so with their babies. “And your family loves you,” she nodded, gently squeezing onto his hand. “Don’t you worry that we’re the odd ones out? I’ve been used to matching with my sisters my whole life. Maybe you and I should change our names. Crobin and Crant. Thoughts?” She joked, quirking a brow at him. She was glad her fiancé was just as goofy as she was, and his pretend proposal had been perfect. It earned him a bright smile as Robin waited for him to slip the ring back onto her finger for her. “Untrue. They know you as their dad, the man they’re always going to be able to depend on. When you shake their little hands and introduce yourself when they come out, they’ll already know exactly who you are.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Sometimes Grant could not believe that he was this in love with someone. She made him laugh. Not only that, but she made him want to tell jokes and make her laugh. That wasn’t normal Grant McCarthy. Or at least, it wasn’t. His life was now broken up into two sections. There was like pre-Robin, and like post-Robin. It was clear he definitely liked life after meeting Robin a lot better than life before her. He liked that they could have fun together. There was literally no one on Earth that could make him laugh the way that Robin could. “I’m just a good dad,” Grant defended with a shrug. She was right though. He did totally coddle Clover. And she was totally right about how it would be if Clover was a baby. It was the main reason why Caroline was so spoiled. She had two parents that just basically gave her anything she wanted. He and Jessica were both the fun parent. She didn’t really have a tough disciplinarian. At least not when she was younger. Grant tried now, but Caroline usually just laughed in his face. “Hey. What my babies want, my babies get. And that includes Clover and Calla,” he teased with a smirk. He would have to work on his sternness before the actual babies got older. Another laugh left his lips when she asked if he thought they were left out. Those names she suggested were terrible. “I think I want to stick with Grant, but we can start calling you Crobin if you want,” he joked, another chuckle escaping from his mouth. They were dorks. Mom and dad dorks, but he did really like it about them. Before getting with Robin, he was always so serious. It was so bad that Kristy regularly asked him if he was suffering from depression. “You know me too well. I’m definitely going to shake their hands,” he grinned, leaning forward to rest his hand on her belly. “I can’t wait to meet you guys. You’ll get to come to our wedding.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Grant was right, even if he was just joking around about parenting Clover right now. He was a good dad. He was an amazing dad, in fact. Robin had thought so from that very first morning when they’d hung out with Caroline, and he only continued to prove further to her that his world’s greatest dad mug was totally deserved. “You are,” she agreed, the thought of him with their babies making her smile. He was already wrapped right around so many fingers and paws, the idea of two more adding to the mix was hilarious. So was the thought that Robin had been scared of their baby being multiple babies, because it just felt so right to her now, the fact that there were two of them in there. It was supposed to be that way, they were supposed to expand their family like this. Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Man, I really loved the sound of Crant, too. I guess if you’re keeping your name then I’ll keep mine. I think Grant and Robin sound good together.” She leaned over toward him, taking his chin between her fingers again. “You’re my Grant,” she smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And I’m your Robin.” Her small smile was still in place as she pulled back, looking down at his hand on her bump. “They’re gonna look so cute in their wedding outfits. I used to think it was super dorky when my parents would dress me and my sisters in matching clothes, but I can’t wait to dress Cupcake and Cinnamon the same,” she beamed, reaching out to finally grab something small to snack on from the food Grant had laid out for them. “I wonder what kind of mom I’m going to be,” Robin mused, glancing up in thought. “We already established you’re an incredible dad. What if I’m not such an incredible mom? I want to be. I think I will be,” she glanced over at her fiancé, “But there’s always that doubt, you know?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant’s feelings about his parenting skills had improved since being with Robin, but it was still something he pretty insecure about. It wasn’t that he necessarily thought Jessica was a better parent than him. He was pretty confident that she wasn’t. He just was not all that convinced he was that great of a dad, especially since he was traveling so much for the first years of Caroline’s life. Things had definitely improved between the two of them, but he was always going to think she was closer to her step-dad than to him. He tried not to let it get him down while Robin was paying him a compliment. It was obvious that she thought he was a good dad. “Grant and Robin sound great together,” he spoke up with a shrug of his shoulders. “Grant and Robin McCarthy sounds even better.” Clearly, he couldn’t wait to marry her. He’d never been so excited about something. Well, except the birth of their babies. That was also something he was failing to hold his excitement in over. Ever since they’d both come to terms with the idea of having a baby, he’d been pretty excited. He’d even gone as far as casually looking up cribs on Amazon every day. Now, he’d have to purchase two. He smirked as she kissed him. He would always grin like an idiot when Robin kissed him. They kissed a lot, so he was pretty much always smirking like an idiot. “I wonder if we could convince Caroline to wear a matching outfit for a family portrait,” he joked, letting out a small laugh. “I think she’d kill us.” He leaned forward to grab his glass of sparkling cider off the table, taking a small sip from it as she spoke.It was funny that she was asking the world’s most insecure parent about parenting advice, but he didn’t have any doubts about Robin’s future parenting skills. He knew her and he knew she would be great. “I know you’re going to be an amazing mother,” he said with a small smile. “You’re already doing such a good job taking care of yourself and our babies,” he nodded, setting his glass down beside him. “And you’re great with our daughter.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Everything about being with Grant was exciting. Despite the fact that, technically, things with them were still relatively new, it felt like she’d known him forever. Like he was everything she’d been missing. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still excite her, and the prospect of everything they had coming up was incredible. “I agree, Grant and Robin McCarthy sound perfect together,” she smirked, pressing another quick kiss to his lips, before forcing herself away. “Grant McCarthy, Robin McCarthy, Caroline McCarthy, Cupcake McCarthy, Cinnamon McCarthy and Calla Lily McCarthy. We should really change Clover’s last name, he’s registered at the vet as Clover St. James. He’s gonna be left out once mommy becomes McCarthy.” At least he wasn’t Taylor. Scott had never cared much for Robin’s dog. Not like Grant did. The mental image of them all in matching outfits was adorable. “I mean, you probably couldn’t. But I’m the cool step-mom,” she smirked, reaching out to tap the tip of his nose with her finger, “I could convince her to.” Her relationship with Grant’s daughter was something Robin was very proud of. She liked how well the younger girl had warmed to her, and Robin couldn’t deny how much she cared about her already. She knew it made Grant happy, too. It didn’t matter that his parents weren’t her biggest fans, his daughter was, and that was the main thing. It helped her to believe what Grant was saying, that she really would be a good mother. “I guess you’re right. You just don’t know until you know, you know?” She shrugged, grabbing the other glass and scooting closer to him. Robin turned so that she could rest her back against Grant’s front, leaning back comfortably against him. “Any baby names yet?” She questioned, glancing up at him over her shoulder. “I know we still have a while to go, but we’re almost out of the first trimester now. It’s gone by pretty quick. Before we know it, they’ll be here.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant really did believe that he and Robin were the perfect couple. Maybe they didn’t seem that way because they’d only been together a few months and she was a married schizophrenic and he was an emotionally stunted curmudgeon. Didn’t matter. They were perfect together. They were literally made for each other. He was just glad that life had eventually brought them together. If only things would have happened sooner. If only he had met her in Rhode Island instead of Jessica. But then he wouldn’t have his daughter and he could never regret her. She was also one of the greatest things to ever happen to him. It was easy for him to think about what ifs when it came to him and Robin, but he also liked focusing on the now. They were together now. That was all that mattered. “We should change Clover’s last name. I want to be his dad, officially.” Grant didn’t think he was the type of person to get so attached to a dog, but he had and he was. He wouldn’t say it out loud to anyone except Robin, but he really did love him. The same went for Calla too. Apparently, he was a pet person. “You are definitely the cool step-mom. That’s also how I won over Clover. It’s my cool step-dad rep,” he teased. Grant smirked when Robin settled against him, loving how close the two of them needed to be to one another. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his hands on her stomach, feeling the desire to be close to their babies too. “I know how you feel. I was so worried about my dad abilities before Caroline was born. Hell, I still worry about them. I don’t think that worry ever goes away.” A small sigh escaped from his lips as he shrugged. It was true. Most parents constantly worried that they were screwing their kids up. “You’re right. The first trimester is almost over. Soon, we can officially tell anyone we want.” Although, they both pretty big mouths and had already told plenty of people. “I haven’t come up with anything. What about you?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

As far as Robin was concerned, Grant was the perfect father already. To his daughter, to their pets, to the babies currently growing inside of her. She loved the way he loved all of them, she loved the way he loved her, and the idea of him considering Clover his was exciting to her. He may have been a dog, but he was important to Robin, he was like her child. She liked that Grant had taken so well to him, too. “Then I will call and change his details tomorrow,” she promised, smirking at his comment. “You’re not even step-dad at this point, he thinks of you as his daddy. I can tell.” He was sniffing around both of them now, in fact. But that was nothing new. Clover didn’t like to give them their privacy. In fact, neither did Calla. Though Robin didn’t mind, she loved their little family. As Grant’s hands rested on her stomach, Robin smiled to herself, relaxing back against him and resting her free hand over the top of his, her fingers lacing easily through his. That was just a natural thing for them at this point. She sipped on the glass of sparkling cider in her other hand, and squeezed Grant’s hand reassuringly. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re an amazing dad. And I know Caroline does, too.” She glanced back at him again, leaning up to press a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Neither of them had done the best job at keeping things a secret so far, but the thought of being out of that initial danger zone was definitely comforting, and Robin smiled in response, nodding her head. “Right. I think people are already questioning it anyway. I forget that your followers follow me too, and I tagged that picture of my haircut with hashtag mom hair.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’ve been ignoring the comments, though.” If she didn’t ignore the comments from Grant’s fans, she’d go crazy. “Mm, I like Carson,” she stated, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s cute for a boy or a girl. What do you think?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

A goofy smile was spread across Grant’s face at the idea of Robin actually having Clover’s name changed. He didn’t know why it made him so happy, but it did. It was just a dog, but it made it feel like their family was really coming together. “I like being his dad,” Grant said with a shrug. “I love you, buddy,” he whispered out, reaching out to give the dog a little scratch behind his ears. He knew that giving him any attention would definitely cause him to sniff around them even longer, but it wasn’t like Clover was going anywhere anyway. It was nice to hear that Robin thought he was a good father. There were really only two opinions in his life that mattered. Hers and Caroline’s. She even reassured him that Caroline thought the same thing, but he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to believe that. She was always annoyed with him. He knew that it was mostly teenage angst, but still, he wasn’t completely sure it was just that. He was always going to be worried that he’d failed somehow as a father. “I can’t wait to tell more people. Not my weird Instagram followers,” he said with a shrug. He hated that people followed Robin on Instagram and said shitty things to her sometimes. It had never bothered him before what people commented on his posts, but it was different with Robin. He didn’t want anyone being mean to her. “I’m sorry if they say crappy stuff to you sometimes. You’re such a babe. They’re just jealous,” he smirked. “Carson?” He echoed with a nod of his head. He liked it. But he would have liked anything Robin suggested. “I like that one. I think Caroline will like it too. It fits the theme.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

The way they were with each other, how they were already so settled and so comfortable with their little family, it all just showed Robin further that this was right, that she and Grant were meant to be. It should’ve always been them, and she planned to spend the rest of their lives making up for the last thirty-plus years without one another. Starting with changing her dog’s last name to Grant’s. “We’re already a family, you know? But that will just make it even more official,” she stated, watching with a proud smile as Grant reached out to pet Clover. “He loves you, too.” Robin glanced over at the kitten, who was currently busy licking her own leg. “And we love you too, little Calla Lily.” They were going to have to get used to dividing their attention considering they were about to have two babies. Clover definitely took more of it than Calla right now, since she was a cat, but they couldn’t do that when the babies were here. They couldn’t pay more attention to one than the other. Robin knew she and Grant would figure it out, though. She had every faith in them. “Me too. I’ve been keeping my brother and sisters up to date. And my parents too obviously, but it’s gonna be nice to be able to tell everyone. I’m really excited, I don’t want to have to keep it from people.” It had been a lot, adjusting to being with someone who had such a public presence, but Robin could handle it, and simply shrugged a shoulder at his apology. “It’s okay. The ones I’ve read are mostly weird. A lot of them call me hot and say inappropriate things. Some of them say you should be with them instead of me. I guess they all have their little fantasies. But not me,” she squeezed Grant’s hand gently, “I have the real thing, they can want you all they want. You’re mine.” She smirked up at him over her shoulder again, puckering her lips for him to kiss her. It made her smile to know he liked her name choice, too. “Then Carson can be one of our options. We have time to think of more. But I definitely like that one. Cody?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

They were already a family. Those words meant a lot to him. He knew it too. It was obvious with how domestic the two of them had become so quickly. Sometimes he referred to her as his wife accidentally and it didn’t seem all that weird. It just made him excited for it to be finally be true. He knew he was going to marry her early on in their relationship. It was probably around the time he’d asked her to move in before they’d actually had a real date. Grant loved the family they were building together. He loved showering their pets with attention, Clover received most of it though, and he was excited to meet their babies. He knew they were going to be great parents. Especially Robin, she was born to take care of people. “Can I tell you a secret?” He offered up, knowing she would want to hear it. “When I first asked you if you wanted kids back when we were in our kitchen before it was officially our kitchen. I wanted to know because I wanted all of this with you. I wanted a family with you, me, and Caroline. I’m glad it’s going to be even bigger than that.” He knew that was something she’d want to hear. He liked being able to retrace all of the right steps they’d taken to get to where they were. There were so many wrong steps they’d taken that delayed the two of them meeting and getting together, but almost every step since they’d met had been the right one. “You’re going to be really cheesy and post a belly picture soon, aren’t you?” He teased with a smirk. “I am totally yours,” he grinned, leaning down to connect their lips. He was never going to turn down an invitation to kiss her. “Cody? I don’t know. Cody McCarthy sounds a little off,” he shrugged, thinking of more names. “How about Cary? That’s old school like Grant. Or Carter?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Other than the technicalities, such as them having different last names right now and Robin still being married to Scott, she liked to think of this as a marriage already. No, it wasn’t legal yet, but this was it for them. Grant was going to be her husband and Robin was going to be his wife, so she liked to think of them as such already. Official confirmation would of course be great, but in her mind, they were already there. They weren’t moving too fast, no matter what anybody else may have thought. Fast, sure. But not too fast. It was the perfect, natural pace for them. That much was obvious by how comfortable they were sitting here together, Robin’s eyes glistening when Grant asked if he could tell her a secret. “Absolutely,” she nodded enthusiastically, “I love when you tell me secrets. I like knowing things no one else knows.” As he continued, she couldn’t help the way she bit her lip, his words causing her to smile widely in response. “Aw, baby,” she tightened her hold on his hand a little, “You knew already then?” It really had been a case of love at first sight with them, Robin was sure of it. And she didn’t care who knew, just like she didn’t care who saw the belly picture Grant was teasing her about. “Of course I am,” she beamed, nodding her head. “And at Halloween, we’re going to paint my bump into a pumpkin. It’s all gonna be super cheesy, and we’re going to do all of it.” Her lips were still curved upward as they pressed back to Grant’s, always happy to have her fiancé so close. Although they were generally on the same page, they weren’t going to agree on everything, so Robin shrugged when Grant passed on her name suggestion.“Okay, no Cody McCarthy then.” Her nose wrinkled. “Cary? No, I don’t like that. I do like Carter, though.” She thought for a moment. “Carson and Carter. Those are really cute names. I also like that they’re both gender neutral. Did you know that my parents did that with me and my sisters? Roman, Regan, Rylan and Robin, all gender neutral. I always liked that.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant had considered the two of them married for a while now. Pulling out a ring and actually proposing to her was just something he had to do to make it official, but he always knew she was going to be his wife. Proposing to someone was never something be saw himself doing. Mostly because he thought marriage was a sham. But he knew that theirs was going to work. Robin was clearly the love of his life and he was planning on spending the rest of his life making her happy. “I’ve always known, Rob,” he replied with a light shrug. It was true. He had always known they were going to end up together. You don’t look at someone the way they look at each other and you don’t make love to someone the way they did unless it was the real deal. His eyes drifted to her belly as she started talking about the pictures she wanted to post, a smile tugging onto his lips. Sometimes he still could not believe that he was this happy. He could not believe that everything was working out the way it was supposed to. “You know, you might not even be pregnant at Halloween. Twins usually come early. I’ve been doing my research,” he said proudly. It was kind of a scary thought. The idea of their babies being born early before they were ready. He really should have spent less time searching things on the internet while Robin was at work. It really didn’t do him any favors with his neuroticism. The idea of picking names for their children was a lot more exciting than worrying about anything that could go wrong. He liked the idea of Carson and Carter. After she said it, it all just worked together. “Carson and Carter McCarthy,” he said, nodding his head. It did have a good ring to it. “I like the gender neutral thing. It means we won’t have to change it depending on what set of twins we’re having.” He let out a small sigh as he leaned his head against hers, always wanting to be as close as possible.They were gross that way. “How was it? Growing up with as a quad? Did you ever feel like you weren’t given enough attention?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

They weren’t like normal couples. But then again, nothing about Robin ever really had been normal, and aside from the health issues, she liked it that way. As far as she was concerned, she and Grant were special. They had something people searched for, and neither had even been looking. They were meant to be together, she was sure of that. “I think I’ve always known, too,” she nodded her head, voice soft as she looked at her fiancé with adoration. “You’re my person.” That was the best term for him. He was the love of her life, the father of her children. Grant McCarthy was everything really, he was her person. “You might be right,” she shrugged, hand drifting down to her stomach. It was like a natural instinct for her now. Like she wanted to always be protecting their babies. “But we shouldn’t think like that. As much as I want to meet them, we need to hope they stay in there as long as possible.” Robin was already nervous about passing on her health issues to their children, the last thing she wanted to think about was them arriving before they were ready. Talking about names only made her even more excited to meet them, though, and a bright smile tugged at her lips in response to hearing the names together. “Exactly. Carson and Carter sound like such cute twin names. I know you’re probably supposed to go through every name in the book before deciding, but I’m already pretty sold on those now. They’re perfect.” She grinned, lifting her hand up behind her to brush her fingers along his cheek as she felt him resting on her. She was so comfortable and so content. Grant always just made her feel so safe. “Mm, probably the same as not growing up a quad,” she shrugged, her fingers playing with his. “My parents are awesome, they never favored any of us. Maybe they had to give me a little more attention once I got sick, but I don’t think my brother or sisters ever felt left out. How about you?” Robin glanced behind her, her expression a little more sympathetic now that she had the misfortune of knowing his parents. “What was it like growing up with your mom and dad and all of your younger siblings?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

They were far from a perfect couple. No one was perfect. But Grant would argue that they probably came close. They complemented each other in a way that most couples didn’t. They were clearly meant to be together. And he agreed with Robin. He was her person and she was his. Early on in their relationship that was really the only way they could describe one another. They hadn’t been technically dating yet, but even boyfriend and girlfriend seemed too trivial for them. Too small. They were always more than that. And it wasn’t just about their relationship status. They were just always meant to be in each other’s lives. Even if Robin had chosen to stay with her husband, which was an impossibility. Grant would have stayed in her life. He was always going to be in her life. “You know I accidentally call you my wife all the time? I’ll be at the store or somewhere and I’ll say ‘oh my wife would like that.’ In my mind, we’re already married.” A light chuckle left his lips at the thought. He was constantly doing that. It was sort of funny how often he did it. He nodded his head at her words. He knew she was right. Only thinking about the bad things that could happen wasn’t going to help anything. He should be thinking about the positives. “You’re right, babe. I’m not worried about our babies though. They’re going to be perfect,” he said with a smile. The idea of going through a baby name book and trying to pick out a name seemed stressful and boring. Plus, he liked the names that the two of them had come up with all on their own. They had a good ring to them. “Carson and Carter. Are those your names?” He whispered out, turning his head so it was obvious he was speaking to her stomach. He was such a dorky dad sometimes and he knew it. “Your parents are good parents,” he said with a simple nod of his head. He didn’t have a similar experience and she knew that. After spending a week with his parents, she had to know that. “My entire childhood was basketball. The only conversations I really remember having with my parents were about basketball. I was always good at it and they wanted me to go pro. And I did,” he said with a shrug. “I joke around a lot, but I really don’t care if our kids ever play basketball. Caroline could not care less about it and I still love her.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

The way Robin grinned at the anecdote was in large part because she tended to do the exact same thing. Scott was rarely on her mind anymore, save for her wondering when she’d get confirmation that he was officially not her husband now. When she thought about her husband, she thought about Grant. “I like that. I like that you think about me when you’re at the store. I think about you all the time, too. I probably talk about you a super annoying amount. But I don’t care.” She shrugged, grin still in place. “You know, we really could just call each other husband and wife already. We pretty much are.” It was only fitting, considering how quickly everything else had happened for them. In fact, the fact that they were now basically settled on their children’s names after the shortest amount of time throwing out ideas was totally on key for them. She smirked as she glanced down at her stomach, pretending to listen, before looking back up at Grant. “They said yes. I can hear them.” She tapped her temple, smug look on her face. Maybe not the best thing for a schizophrenic to say, but whatever. “We should still call them Cupcake and Cinnamon to other people, though. I don’t want people trying to give their opinions, you know? Once they’re born and they’re named, they can’t really do anything about it. I can just imagine your parents whining about them not being the right names and trying to force different ones on us for the rest of the pregnancy,” she frowned, rolling her eyes. If his parents were even talking to them anymore, that is. Robin didn’t really care either way. She figured Grant didn’t either. “My parents are good parents,” she agreed, nodding her head, “I think we’ll be like them.” They definitely weren’t going to be like his, and Robin found herself frowning again at the story. “I don’t like that. I think kids should be allowed to figure what they do and don’t like out for themselves. Cupcake and Cinnamon are going to be anything they want to be. Oh, and just so you know,” she paused, turning around to face Grant and settling onto her knees. She cupped his face in her hands, offering him a warm smile. “Basketball or no basketball, your wife is super in love with you.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant thought about Robin all the time. He made all of his plans based on what they were doing and if she needed him. Even if it was just something simple like picking up the fruit she liked from the grocery store or remembering how she liked her eggs cooked in the morning. He was always thinking about her. “I think about you all the time. You’re even in my dreams, Robin St. James,” he said with a smirk. He knew that people would not really pay too much attention to it if he and Robin started referring to each other as husband and wife. Their relationship had moved so quickly that people would probably just assume that they had gone off to get married. It was definitely in their wheelhouse. “I like that. Calling you my wife. I’ve wanted to do it forever anyway.” He loved the names they had picked out for their babies, but he was totally on board with not sharing them with anyone. Grant did not like getting outside comments from people, especially on things that should have only mattered to him and Robin. He’d been so annoyed when people weighed in that they thought they were moving too fast. It wasn’t their business. “We’ll run them by Caroline in a couple months. We can’t trust her not to tell her mother.” A small chuckle left his lips. He loved his daughter, but she did enjoy playing her parents against each other. She spilled secrets of their lives to the both of them. “I don’t know if I want my parents in our lives,” he admitted with sadness in his voice. “I love them. But I just can’t do it anymore.” He could not believe that he had actually said those words, but it was true. He was tired of them, especially after how they’d treated Robin. He was done. He let out a small happy sigh as she turned on her knees to face him, a smile spreading across his face at her words. “Well, good. Because your husband is super in love with you.” He brought his lips down to connect with hers, thinking that a kiss was the perfect way to get his point across.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“I hope I’m only in the good ones,” she smirked, looking back at him. “You’re the man of my dreams.” Robin never cared how cheesy she and Grant sounded when they were talking to one another. She’d never been someone to second-guess herself, and she liked that Grant wasn’t either. At least not where she was concerned. He’d be just as cheesy and disgusting as she would, and she loved that about them. “Then you can do it, baby. You can call me your wife, and I’ll call you my husband. Like when I call to change Clover’s details tomorrow, I won’t say I want to change his last name to my fiancé’s last name. I’ll be like,” she paused, bringing her hand up to her ear and holding it like a phone, “Hello, this is Robin McCarthy, Clover St. James’ mom. I’m calling to change Clover’s details to my husband’s last name, so he’ll be Clover McCarthy, too.” She put down her fake phone, smiling proudly. Something else Robin always liked about she and Grant was how they’d involve his daughter in things. Caroline’s opinion was important to both of them, so she nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. I bet she’ll like them. They both begin with car, like Caroline.” The shift in Grant’s tone, from talking about his daughter to then talking about his parents, was definitely evident to Robin, and she wasn’t even sure how to respond. She just squeezed his hand reassuringly, letting out a soft sigh. It was kind of a severe statement to make, potentially wanting to cut his mother and father from their lives. One of them needed to think logically. She didn’t want him to be sad, though, so once his lips were against hers, Robin kissed back willingly, her own lips curving into a soft smile against his. “Good,” she mumbled as she pulled back, dropping her hands from his cheeks to instead grab ahold of his hands, which she gently tugged around herself, then lifted her own around his neck. “We’re not going to cut your parents out, okay? Not yet. I believe in second chances. If they don’t redeem themselves, then okay. But we’re going to be the bigger people here.” She pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “If nothing changes, then we’ll revisit that idea. Okay?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

“If you’re in it then it’s automatically a good one,” Grant grinned in response. He didn’t care if what Robin said was cheesy. It seemed sweet to him. He was always going to be happy that he was the man she chose. Being the man of her dreams was an honor that he loved hearing about. And he was excited that he could call her his wife. Sure, it wasn’t technically official, but they were married in every sense of the word already. Knowing that she was on the same page as him just made him grin even harder. Laughter left his lips as he watched her act out the phone call she was going to make to the vet’s office. She was so cute. He was always going to think that. A super cute nerd. Just another reason why they were perfect together. He was also a nerd. “Next time your nurse calls me your boyfriend, can I correct him?” He asked with a hopeful smile. Maybe he was very giddy about this husband and wife thing. He’d been thinking about it for a while, so the fact that it was actually coming to fruition made him excited. Grant’s daughter made him extremely happy, but his parents did not. Talking about them made him anxious. Extremely anxious. But he didn’t want to dwell on that too much. He liked being close with his fiancée and just cuddling with her. Thinking about how his parents had tried to come between them just made him angry. He offered up a weak smile as she wrapped his arms around her. He could tell from her expression that she was going to say something serious. “You are such an amazing person. I love you,” he whispered out. He was so grateful to have such a loving, forgiving future wife. Actually, his parents were lucky. Robin was the one clearly willing to give them another chance, while Grant? He was done with them. He didn’t want his children around their toxicity. “I feel so lucky that you chose me. That you wake up everyday and you still choose me. I’m the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“It could be a bad one with me in it. I could be even more pregnant and yelling at you because I’m super hormonal,” she joked, though that would probably become a reality at some point. So far, Robin’s main suffering had been with morning sickness, but her moods had been a little off, too. Hopefully Grant could forgive her when she started raging at him in what was likely the near future. She may have just been playing around with her imaginary phone call, but she was completely serious about referring to him as her husband when she made the call. Robin couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more than to officially call Grant her husband, and for him to officially call her his wife. “Oh, definitely. I mean, he should be calling you my fiancé anyway, not boyfriend. But you can tell him you’re my husband. You also need to stop referring to the medical people as my people, or this pregnancy as my pregnancy. It’s ours, babe. Just because I’m carrying the babies, it doesn’t make it all mine. I like when we’re a team.” It was a good thing, the way they could go from lighthearted conversation to something heavier and vice versa, but Robin really didn’t want Grant to have to be upset. Not right now. Not ever, in fact. She knew that, in spite of everything, kicking his parents out of his life was going to make him sad, so she had to make it right. His compliment brought a small, appreciative smile to her lips in response. “I don’t know about that. I do know that I love you too, though.” Her arms tightened around him, with Robin pulling their bodies closer together. “I do choose you. In every scenario, in every universe, in every lifetime, I will always choose you.” She leaned forward, reconnecting their lips again. “You’re mine,” she mumbled into the kiss, kneeling up a little higher to press her body against Grant’s, “I choose you forever. It will always, always be you.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant could not help but laugh at the image of a very pregnant Robin yelling at him in the future. He could see it happening, but he was pretty certain that he was going to find it funny. Just like he did now. “Even if you’re yelling at me, I still wouldn’t consider it a bad dream,” he said with a shrug. If it wasn’t clear, Grant was completely and utterly in love with Robin. It didn’t matter if she got super big and started yelling at him everyday. It wasn’t going to affect the way he looked at her. He nodded his head as she spoke, totally understanding where she was coming from. He just didn’t want to be one of those annoying guys who acted like he was experiencing his wife’s pregnancy. Because he wasn’t. Her body was doing all of the hard work. He was just browsing baby furniture on Amazon. What they were experiencing was very different. “I like that we’re a team too,” he mumbled out with a smile. “I just know you’re doing most of the work here, so I don’t want to take any of the credit from you.” A light chuckle left his lips as he spoke and shook his head. She was always thinking about hm. He didn’t know how the two of them ever got anything done for themselves because they were always thinking of the other person. She was worried about him and how kicking his parents out of their lives was going to affect him. Even though his parents were complete assholes to her. He could not believe that she could just suggest forgiving them because she knew how it would all affect him. She was really the perfect wife. He smirked as their lips reconnected, sighing as their bodies pulled tighter together. He loved that feeling. “It’s been you since that stupid bar,” he muttered out against her lips. “You’ve had me since that night. I would do anything for you. I let you put flowers all over this place,” he teased, staying close to her. His eyes glanced around their house as he thought for a moment. “Do you want a meditation room? I know you had one at your old house. We’re gonna have to do some remodeling soon anyway to start getting the twins room ready,” he said with a shrug. “I feel like this place is still a little Grant McMansion heavy, despite the flowers. I have my court and the pool. Is there a room you’ve always wanted?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin shot her fiancé a playful scowl. “That’s only because you think it’s funny when I get mad.” Just like he had when they’d gotten back from Rome and had to deal with Scott. Robin was exhausted and annoyed, but Grant of course just found her funny. In his defense, she was a tiny little blonde with a high pitched voice and the least threatening eyes in the world who wore floral printed dresses, there was really nothing scary about her. This was entirely like them, to think about the other’s feelings above their own, and Robin shot him an appreciative smile. “I know that. And women are fucking incredible. You couldn’t handle growing a person,” she teased, her expression playful. “But it takes two people to make a baby, and I want us to share all of this. Okay? This is our pregnancy. These are our babies. It’s me and you, just the way it should be.” They’d been a team all along, as far as she was concerned. They weren’t about to stop now. No matter what other people thought, or who wanted to come between them. His parents being the main culprits. They could dislike her and their relationship all they wanted, Robin and Grant were a team now, they always would be. “That bar was so not stupid,” she grinned into the kiss, pulling back a little to look at him as her arms rested comfortably around his neck. “You just thought it was stupid because you lost at pool.” As Grant’s eyes scanned the room, Robin’s stayed on him, watching his expression. Her own lit up at his question. “Really? Yeah! I would love a meditation room. I miss meditating. It’s not the same in our bed, because I just get turned on and start fucking myself or have you fuck me if you’re home. I would love somewhere specifically to meditate. Then I can do baby meditation with Cupcake and Cinnamon once they’re here, too.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant shrugged his shoulders as he laughed at her comment. She was right. He did think it was funny when she got mad. “You’re just so cute when you get angry,” he chuckled. It had been so hard for him to hide his amusement when they got back from Rome and she was pissed at Scott. She was just so little and bubbly. It was so different to see her angry about something. He smirked at her joke, knowing she was right about that too. Robin was great. He was constantly in awe of her for carrying their babies and literally never complaining about any of it. Even if she did complain, she was more than entitled to it. “You’re growing two people. That’s a lot of fucking work,” he joked, shaking his head. He liked that she wanted him to be a part of her pregnancy though, as much as he could. But he was always going to give her the props she deserved. They were a team. They did everything together and this was absolutely no different. He was going to be there for her for every step of the way, so maybe he should call her nurse their nurse. It would only make sense. The babies growing inside of her were their babies. “I like being your partner. So, nurse whatever his name is will now be referred to as our nurse,” he said with the nod of his head. They were a team. A disgustingly sweet team. The way they both smirked as they pulled their lips away from each other was so sweet, even Clover probably wanted to roll his eyes. “Hey. I’m happy I lost. I got to see you again.” His lack of pool skills had actually caused him to lose their little bet, which was the reason he ended up at her house and then she ended up at his place. It all started with one game of pool. The thought of it brought a dopey grin to his face. He nodded his head at her, smiling happily at how excited it made her. “Yeah. I can’t focus on anything when I’m in our room. I just think about you,” he chuckled with a grin. “Perfect. We can hire a contractor and you can design it the way you want it.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

The fact that there was a smile spreading across her lips probably made her scowl look even less threatening and only backed up Grant’s point further. “You won’t be saying that when it’s you I’m mad at. You haven’t pissed me off yet. You’d better keep it that way,” she smirked, gently squeezing his hand. Robin did have a bit of a temper sometimes, though it probably wouldn’t faze Grant. “Exactly. Two people is probably even harder than growing just one. But they’re still your two people as well, that’s what I’m saying.” As far as Robin was concerned, she didn’t need credit. Their babies were going to be reward enough. She just wanted this to be about both she and Grant, and then of course their children once they arrived, so she gave him a satisfied smile when he agreed. “Thank you. Team McCarthy, always killin’ it.” She made a mental note to correct Finn next time. If anyone could see them like this, though, it wouldn’t be difficult to call them husband and wife, not given how wrapped up they were in each other, and Robin could not remember a time she’d been happier as she looked at her fiancé, the thought of that day in the bar seeming like a distant memory now. “That’s true. I’d say you lost on purpose just so you could see me again, but I really am super good at pool. And you really are super bad,” she teased, arms tightening around him. She just needed to be as close to him as possible at all times, that was just how they worked. Her brow raised as he continued, amused smile on her lips. “A contractor?” She shook her head. “Baby, we have like a million rooms in this house. We’ll just de-clutter and empty one of them for my meditation room and another for the twins’ room. I don’t need a contractor to put down candles and hang a couple tapestries.” Her nose wrinkled. “We also are gonna be fixing up the nursery ourselves. That’s mommy and daddy’s job, not a contractor’s.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

“I remember you not being very happy with me the night at the mini-golf course,” Grant replied with a chuckle. She had gotten pretty pissed at him that night and there was really nothing funny about it during the whole thing. He was just frantic about making her forgive him and showing her that the picture he’d taken with that woman meant absolutely nothing. He hated every second of it. But he knew it was fueled by hormones and having to deal with him not understanding where she was coming from. It was clear that his fiancée had a temper and it was probably only going to get worse the further along she made it into her pregnancy. He was ready to deal with it though. “Team McCarthy,” he echoed with a smirk. “I think that’s what I’m going to get printed on our shirts for a family photo.” He could see it now. It was going to be cheesy and Caroline was going to hate every second of it, but he was going to love it. Strangers probably already thought the two of them were married. They just looked married. The way they looked at each other, how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Saying they were husband and wife would not really be a stretch. The actual ceremony, as amazing as it was going to be, was just going to be a formality. As far as he was concerned, she was already Robin McCarthy. “You’re amazing at pool. You warned me, but I didn’t buy it.” He had found it hard to believe that the woman drinking a margarita and wearing a floral dress was some sort of amazing pool player, but now, the wife he currently had his arms wrapped around, he would never underestimate again. He scrunched up his face at her words and shrugged his shoulders. “I want you to have more than just candles and new tapestries. I just like spoiling you, I know.” The grin on his face grew wider as he feigned surprise at her words. “Setting up the twins room ourselves does sound kind of fun. These hands aren’t too bad at putting things together.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin frowned. She’d almost forgotten about that. “Well, I didn’t like her being so close to my man,” she shrugged. She knew she’d overreacted, but there’d been more to it than just not liking someone being close to Grant. Sharing her ex with someone had made her a little insecure, she didn’t want to lose Grant to someone else. Not that she ever would; Robin knew they were in this forever. But she couldn’t help but worry occasionally. The mental image of them all wearing Team McCarthy shirts was much better than thinking back on the mini-golf incident, and Robin found herself grinning at the thought. “Caroline will love that,” she teased, though she would totally push for it to actually happen. She was sure his daughter would come around eventually. “We’re totally going to be one of those families. I’m also gonna get you one of those shirts that’s like ‘If lost, return to Robin’, and then my shirt will say ‘I’m Robin.’” Obviously, she was joking, but the sad thing is she was almost positive Grant would humor her and actually wear it. He liked to let her get her way, that had been how they’d worked all along. She shrugged in response. “I’m glad you didn’t buy it. Look where it got us. Maybe we could get a pool table here?” She suggested, eyes lighting up at the thought. Although she’d moved all of her things in, and there were flowers just about everywhere, Robin didn’t dislike the idea of them redecorating a little bit. It’d be nice for their home to be a mixed effort. “I know you like spoiling me,” she laughed softly, nudging her nose against his. “But all I need for a meditation room is candles and tapestries. Maybe some oils,” she shrugged, her smile turning to a smirk as he continued. “What? These hands?” She unwrapped her arms from around him, reaching down to take ahold of his hands. “They are pretty good hands, I know what they can do.” She lifted his hands to press her lips to his knuckles. “It would be super sexy to see you building up furniture, though. I'm gonna get you a tool belt.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Arguing with Robin hadn’t been his favorite moment, but it was still pretty hot to see her get to jealous over him. Although, she didn’t have anything to be jealous over. He was certain she knew that she did not have anything to worry about when it came to him. He didn’t want anyone else other than her. But he liked that she was possessive over him. He was the exact same way when it came to her. If anyone even looked at her a certain way then he would shoot them a glare. “You’re the only one that gets to be close to me,” he replied with a smirk. It was true. One little picture with a fan didn’t even compare to the intimacy they had. It was on another level. The idea of getting Caroline to wear a Team McCarthy shirt was enough to make him laugh even harder. If anyone could talk her into it, it was Robin. She was the newest member to their parenting team, so Caroline wasn’t totally over her just yet. Plus, Grant could barely get the girl to agree to do things she wanted to do, he knew asking her to do something potentially embarrassing was out of the question. “I know you’re joking, but you could definitely talk me into wearing one of those, especially if you promised I got to rip yours off of you later.” Robin could talk him into doing anything. Even wearing some silly matching shirt with her. Grant wanted Robin to have everything she could possibly want in their home, so if a pool table was on her list then he was game to add one. He nodded his head at her words as he looked around, pretending to scope out a spot for it. “Why don’t we put it in our bedroom? We’re gonna end up having sex on it anyway.” The grin on his face made it obvious that he was joking, but he knew if they did get one, it would only be a matter of time before they were having sex on top of it. “Fine. Just some oils, but they’re at least going to be fancy ones,” he pouted with a shrug.He smirked as she took his hands in hers, focusing her gaze on his as she brought his hands to her lips. “These hands never disappoint you,” he said with a wink. “You think I’d look sexy in a tool belt?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

If there was anyone in this world Robin knew she could trust wholeheartedly, it was Grant. She knew that he’d never hurt her. She’d known that all along, which made her whole freak out that evening only more ridiculous. But it had happened, she couldn’t do anything about it now. She could just reassure him it wouldn’t happen again. “I know. I’m the only one you want, just like you’re all I want.” It was a good thing they’d built up so much trust already, it made what had the potential to be a pretty difficult relationship just that much easier. Not that there was anything difficult about it, but they were already engaged, pregnant and irrevocably in love. Trust was a big deal. Which is why Grant definitely didn’t need to wear a shirt that essentially labeled him Robin’s property, but the idea that he would do it for her anyway made her grin. “You’re goofy. You know you can rip anything off of me.” She paused. “Well, no, not my dresses. I like those. But you can rip my shirts and my panties whenever you want to, Mr. McCarthy.” How easy it was to get him to open up about sex was almost unbelievable, if Robin thought back to their first time together. But she was glad it was the way it was now, and the mental image of them fucking on their future pool table was definitely hot, it brought a knowing look to her eye and a small smirk to her lips. “We’ve fucked on every surface of our bedroom already. We have to make our way through the whole house now. The pool table can go someplace else. We’ll fuck on it no matter which room it’s in,” she shrugged, letting out a small laugh as she kissed his pout away. Even something as innocent as talking about decorating their house was always going to lead to this kind of conversation, they just always wanted each other, so Robin wasn’t even surprised, and nodded her head in response. “That’s right. My baby knows just how to get me going,” she agreed, returning the wink. “Babe, you look sexy in anything. You’d look so hot in a tool belt though, yep. Nothing else.” She let her eyes drift down his body, then back up to his face, smirk still in place. “Maybe boxers, but only so I can take those off of you when I want to.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

They were so disgustingly in love. It was clear that there was no one else in the world that Grant would ever want. He was completely enthralled by Robin the first time he ever saw her. It was over for him then and there was no way he was ever going to even look at someone else the way he looked at Robin St. James. “I know completely trusting someone is hard for you. I’m glad you can trust me,” he replied with a small smile. It was evident that Scott had really done a number on her. The way he played with her emotions and made her feel like she wasn't’ enough for him. That wasn’t something Grant was ever going to do to her. He was going to constantly remind her that she was the only woman in the world for him. It didn’t matter if she needed to hear it everyday. He was going to say it as much as she needed it. “Whenever I want to? I don’t know if you should give me that kind of power.” They were always so good about talking about sex. As modest as Grant was about that sort of thing, it was not like that with Robin. He could talk to her about anything. She allowed him to let down any guards he put up. He wasn’t even grumpy with her. And if he really thought about it, he really hadn’t been grumpy with her since the first time they hung out. He’d wanted to protect her from the start and he felt drawn to her. Grumpiness wasn’t really an option. “We’ve done a lot around the house too,” he shrugged with a laugh. “Once we run out of places, we’ll have to just buy a new house.” He was joking, but it was true that no surface was safe in their house. If they were home alone and they wanted to go for it then they went for it. That was evident after they fucked against his door the second time they hooked up.There was nothing better than knowing he turned Robin on. Although, he didn’t really need to hear it. He was already pretty aware of the effect he had on her. “It sounds like you want me to dress like a stripper,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d be the worst stripper. I can’t dance.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

The fact that Scott could still get in her head while she was so blissfully happy with Grant was honestly kind of annoying, but Robin was thankful to have somebody as understanding as her fiancé, and offered him an appreciative smile. “It’s not hard to trust you,” she promised, gently squeezing his hand. “You’d never hurt me. I know you wouldn’t.” That just wasn’t them. Robin was confident that neither would ever do anything to hurt the other. They were way too in love for that, she knew that already. The only place they were ever going to get any kind of rough with each other was in the bedroom… Or one of the many other surfaces in their home, and Robin smirked as Grant questioned her, nodding her head quickly. “Whenever you want to,” she confirmed, “The power’s all yours, baby.” He knew he didn’t need permission; they’d barely been able to keep their hands to themselves since day one. That much was evident by the fact that they really were running out of places, although Robin wasn’t complaining. She was positive she’d never get bored with their sex life. “A whole new house? Just for sex? I could be into that,” she winked, her arms unwrapping from around him to settle her hands on his shoulders, which Robin begun to massage gently as she sat comfortably in front of him. “Or we could just go to a bunch of different places, stay in a bunch of different hotels and fuck in all of them. You know what I really want us to do?” She lowered her voice, expression almost smug, “Go skinny dipping. But not until the babies are here. I don’t know if I want to be naked in a lake when there are babies living inside of my body and depending on me to be careful.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought, though her smug expression returned soon after. “You would be the hottest stripper. Want me to show you how it’s done?” She raised a brow, smirk tugging at her lips.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant had been a little jealous over Robin’s relationship with her ex-husband, but that was in the past. He knew that Robin belonged with him and that she felt the exact same way. Scott was a part of her past. He had one too. There was no reason to be jealous over Scott because Robin had blatantly told them that the love she shared with Scott was in no comparison to what they had. And he believed her. Because they didn’t lie to each other. Ever. “You’re right,” he said with a small nod of his head. “I will never hurt you, baby,” he said softly. And that was true. Grant was way too protective over her to hurt her in any way. Even when they were super rough in the bedroom, he was never going to actually hurt her. That was all fun and games. He enjoyed it whenever they were rough, but he really enjoyed anything and everything they did together, especially in the bedroom. It was clear he had never sexual chemistry that came close to what they had before. He kinked his eyebrow at her once she said that the power was all his. Not that he was surprised or anything. This was all normal talk for the two of them. “As much as I love ripping your panties off, I love it even more when you’re wearing one of your dresses and you don’t have any on,” he grinned. The idea of buying a whole new house because they’d had sex everywhere was clearly a joke, but he would not have put it passed the two of them. “We could also buy a few vacation houses,” he offered up with a smirk. The idea of skinny dipping was even more appealing. Well, the idea of naked Robin was the most appealing thing. And he would do anything for her, naked or otherwise. “I guess we’d have to go for a lake. We’ve already technically skinny dipped in our pool,” he chuckled, shaking his head. He knew he would be an absolutely awful stripper, but Robin always seemed to have more faith in him than he did her. “Are you offering me a strip tease? Please. Show me how it’s done, baby.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin did plenty of things without properly planning or thinking beforehand, but this with Grant, it wasn’t one of them. She’d never been more sure of anything in her life than she was of their relationship, and he didn’t need to reassure her, because she knew it already. But that didn’t mean she appreciated it any less, and nodded her head in agreement. “I know you won’t. You love me too much, and I love you too much. I trust you.” She promised, lacing her pinky with his. Going from sweet and serious to playful and sexy was so them, it was just how they operated, so it definitely wasn’t any kind of surprising. She smirked at the thought of him picturing her like that. “Man, I wish I hadn’t been working, I wouldn’t be wearing any panties under this dress then. I am now, but it’s okay,” she shrugged a shoulder, smug look on her face, “They’re easy enough to take off.” For now, Robin was more than happy with their house, and would be even more so once they’d done a little decorating to make it more a mixed effort, but she didn’t hate the idea of vacation houses, so whether he was joking or not, she made a mental note, nodding her head in approval. “Definitely. A lake house with you would be super cute. Just us with nobody else around, don’t you think?” She mused, her smile kind of dreamy in the process. Though her smirk returned soon after, the thought of her fiancé stripping for her definitely appealing. She liked the idea of turning him on with his very own striptease too, though, and nodded her head when he questioned her. “That’s exactly what I’m offering you,” she said, sliding her phone over to him. “Find some music, it’s always way sexier with music. But it’s gonna be super sexy anyway, I promise.” Robin winked, pressing a quick kiss to Grant’s lips, before standing up and holding her hand out to him to help him up, too. “On the big chair,” she instructed, motioning him to go sit.

#robin st. james.#robin x grant.#granbin x 027.#mutyler

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welcometothepenumbra · 6 years ago

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE TRAIN FROM NOWHERE (PART ONE)

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, BELL RINGS, RAIN.

MUSIC: STARTS.

CONCIERGE: Ah, good evening, Traveler! Welcome to The Penumbra.

SOUND: KEYS JINGLING.

Detective Steel’s been known to keep odd company, but even by his standards his guest this week is… unexpected. On this job he’s agreed to work with Peter Nureyev, the master thief who’s betrayed him once in the past, and about whom Detective Steel holds very, let us say, volatile feelings.

But our detective has no choice, I’m afraid. There’s an even more dangerous criminal on the prowl, a woman with her eye on a very special train, and the ancient weapon that lies within it.

SOUND: THREE KNOCKS. CARDS SHUFFLING, BELL RINGING.

What luck! It sounds like he’s in. Come, Traveler. Come with me into room J-16.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKING OPEN.

Juno Steel and the Train From Nowhere.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: WIND BLOWING.

JUNO: We don’t have time for this, Nureyev.

NUREYEV: Hm.

JUNO: You said yourself we’re under the gun. As soon as your boss finds out what we’re up to, we’re sunk.

NUREYEV: Correct.

JUNO: Mind explaining why we’ve been parked in the desert for half an hour, then?

NUREYEV: We’re early.

JUNO: Early for what?

…Ahh, I should’ve known better.

NUREYEV: Than?

JUNO: To trust you. Walking into the same trap twice.

I wouldn’t be here if I had any other options, you get me?

NUREYEV: Oh, I get you, Juno.

JUNO: That’s what scares me.

How about telling me about that thing you just put in the sand over there, then? You starting a little garden out here or something?

NUREYEV: Well, telling you that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?

JUNO: Surprise?! Oh, no. Not this time. I’ve had all the surprises I’m willing to take from you. You think you can show up in my apartment in the middle of the goddamn night and expect me to follow along like nothing happened? I don’t think so. You might’ve gotten your hooks in me once, Nureyev, but if you’re gonna pull this again you take your surprise and shove it right up your—

SOUND: SONIC BOOM.

…Whoa.

NUREYEV: Whoa indeed.

JUNO: What the hell was that? It went by so fast, it- it was like the sky just… blinked.

NUREYEV: That, my dear detective, was a train; and you and I are going to catch it.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The Martian desert is a cold, lonely place. You can look around for miles in every direction and never see a human footprint – never see a single sign that anyone has ever lived on this dusty rock.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, which means people and the footprints they leave are my element. Places like this, empty for miles around… they give me the creeps.

NUREYEV: I do apologize for the theatricality, Juno, but you have to admit, the Utgard Express delivers quite a show.

JUNO (NARRATOR): He wasn’t reassuring me any. Peter Nureyev was his name – one of them, anyway. Back when we met he’d gone by Rex Glass, and within two days he’d stolen a lotta junk from me. A key, a mask, a kiss, and…

Eh, forget it. Not this time. I wasn’t gonna fall for it this time.

NUREYEV: As I think you’ve guessed, the recent thefts of ancient Martian artifacts can all be traced back to one individual. She wants what’s on that train, and she’s paid me to procure it for her – but I am of the opinion that we’re all better off if she never receives it. We must board that train, take the artifact, and destroy it – all before she realizes I’ve left her employ.

JUNO: How long do we have?

NUREYEV: Oh, until… tomorrow, at least.

JUNO: So we plan and execute the heist of the century in one day. Sure, alright. I don’t have any plans.

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: CAR ENGINE STARTS.

NUREYEV: The train runs on a very specific cycle. I know that it slows down once a week, and that is our only opportunity to board it… but why it slows and how we are to approach it even then, I’m uncertain.

JUNO: So if we don’t board it tomorrow, we’ll have to wait a week, and by then your employer will be onto us. Got it. Who is she, anyway?

NUREYEV: You wouldn’t have heard of her.

JUNO: Try me.

NUREYEV: Her name is… Miasma. She has no history in crime before these thefts, and those only began four years ago. She’s really an accomplished—

JUNO: Xenoanthropologist. Taught at Olympus U for fifty years; three lifetime achievement awards for her studies on Ancient Martian culture.

NUREYEV: I see you’ve done your homework.

JUNO: Did some research on the ancient Martians when I got into this mess. You tend to notice a name when it’s on half the articles you read. Big name in a small field, it seems like. When I saw she’d stopped publishing I assumed she was dead, but I guess she picked up a few new hobbies.

NUREYEV: I hear theft and murder are very popular these days. The new golf, they say.

JUNO: So what’s she want on the Utgard Express so badly? If this artifact is that important, wouldn’t they keep it in a vault or something?

NUREYEV: The Utgard Express is a vault – the single most secure vault on Mars. The honest fact is that with enough time and planning there isn’t a vault in the galaxy that a master thief can’t enter, which raises a challenge: how to keep the thief from ever getting to it in the first place.

JUNO: So they put the lockbox on a train and shoot it across Mars at a thousand miles an hour.

NUREYEV: Indeed. Inside that vault are some of the most precious items Mars has ever seen. The most dangerous, too.

JUNO: Dangerous?

NUREYEV: We’re not contending with Martian clothing or furniture anymore, not the junk left out on the curbside of history.

A weapon, detective. The weapon. I know very little about it other than the fact that it was the last weapon the Martians ever made… before they disappeared.

JUNO: The weapon that killed off the Martians… and Miasma wants it. The hell could she want a thing like that for?

NUREYEV: Weapons with that much destructive force are good for one thing only: power. It may masquerade as something else – money, or politics, or ideals – but power of that scope only seems justified if it rests in your hands.

JUNO: Power, maybe; but that doesn’t answer the rest of it… the mask, the key, the throne, the pill…

NUREYEV: (CHUCKLES)

JUNO: What?

NUREYEV: It’s just nice to see you gathering clues again. We make an excellent team, I think.

JUNO: (CLEARS THROAT) That’s all a fun story, Nureyev. But how do I know any of it’s true?

NUREYEV: Oh, you can’t.

JUNO: …Seriously? That’s it?

NUREYEV: There’s no point in dancing around it. I’m your only source; in my industry one is more likely to destroy evidence than to keep it on hand. You’ll just have to trust me.

JUNO: Trust you? That’s a good one.

NUREYEV: It’s not so difficult. As far as you’ve seen, I act solely in my own self-interest. Your only choice is to take my word that working with you is my interest.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I couldn’t tell if he was leaning in or if my tight little car had finally gotten the best of me, but that smell… suddenly I was wrapped up in the smell of his cologne all over again, a smell like the spices of some faraway planet. He had that same smirk on, too, like he’d just thought of some private joke that he didn’t feel the need to share…

Damn it, Steel. Not again. Not this time.

NUREYEV: Regardless, we’ve bigger business to deal with at present – and not much time in which to do it. Tell me, detective: do you like to gamble?

JUNO: I got in the car with you, didn’t I?

NUREYEV: (LAUGHS) Well, I hope you’re willing to push the stakes higher than that. We’re headed to the Oasis Casino Resort – my treat.

JUNO (NARRATOR): By the time we pulled into the Oasis, Nureyev’s plan had already been set in motion. He pointed me towards the parking garage and told me to stop the car.

NUREYEV: We’re pressed for time, so I’m going to ask you to park. I’ll check in and start looking for Engstrom.

JUNO: Engstrom? Like… Brock Engstrom? The jewel thief?!

NUREYEV: Please! Retired jewel thief. These days the only crime Engstrom’s guilty of is charging for his ridiculous “seminars in motivation.”

JUNO: The idea of hanging around at a pickpocket convention doesn’t exactly reassure me, Nureyev.

NUREYEV: I wouldn’t even give Engstrom the honor of calling him a pickpocket anymore. He did all of his best work decades ago, and now that the statute of limitations has run out he’s milked the story for every cred it’s worth… and all while being insufferably smug about it. As though he isn’t the thousandth half-rate cutpurse to think of that.

JUNO: But—

NUREYEV: Oh, and you’ll need these.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

JUNO: Registration? ID? But I already have my… Hang on, the hell kind of name is ‘Dahlia Rose’?!

NUREYEV: Yours, now. Oh, don’t make that face. Not every name can be as pretty as Juno.

SOUND: CAR DOOR OPENS.

Ta, Dahlia dearest. I’ll see you in room one-one-thirteen.

SOUND: CAR DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The rest of it went just like Nureyev said it would. The paperwork all checked out; even the fake driver’s license he gave me went through their systems without complaint.

SOUND: CROWD CHATTER.

The Oasis was gigantic, a huge green tower in the red, red sands. It took me nearly a half an hour of dodging bookies and drunk tourists to find the room.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPENS.

JUNO: Hello? …Nureyev? Glass? Whoever the hell you are today?

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES, FOOTSTEPS.

The hell is… (SIGHS) Great. Of course.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was a note by the phone. It read, ‘Off to find Engstrom. Will call. Miss you already. —Duke Rose.’

I knew Nureyev had written it. I’d received a note from him once before which I’d read a few… hundred times. Threw it out the window one day and nearly fell out scrambling to get it back.

The vents coughed up a breeze and a shadow rustled in the corner. I jumped, reached for a gun I didn’t have. Then I saw it was just a coat.

Nureyev’s coat.

SOUND: RUSTLING, CLINKING.

I started through the pockets. a knife; some nuts from the bar; a matchbook from the front desk. Even in the arctic air conditioning, I was sweating. Rex Glass had peeled his skin away to reveal Peter Nureyev, so how did I know Nureyev wouldn’t peel his off to reveal… who?

Christ, he kept a lot of junk in his pockets. A lockpick in a hand mirror. A camera hidden in the button. Bottomless. Endless. Hints of the man, or the mask?

Then, tucked in a hidden pocket inside the left breast, I found them.

SOUND: CRUMPLING PAPER.

Notes. Dozens of them. Crumpled into tiny little balls, diagrams and swirling scripts I’d never seen before. A code. From who?

His boss wanted me dead. How did I know they weren’t still working together? How did I know these weren’t… instructions?

SOUND: PHONE RINGS.

JUNO: (GASPS)

SOUND: BEEP.

What?

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Ah, Dahlia, so you found the room after all. Marvelous, marvelous!

JUNO: Yeah, sure. Marvelous.

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Well, dear, you can always take a few of the pills the doctor gave you if you’re feeling bloated. I told you about Mr. Engstrom? Well, he says a game has just opened up and I’ll need you down here immediately.

JUNO: You sound like you’ve got it under control. What makes this so important that I’ve got to be there?

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): You’re my good luck charm, Dahlia. If I could do this without you, I would have left you at home.

JUNO: (GROWLS) Fine. I’m on my way. What room?

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Oh, one of Mr. Engstrom’s friends will be by to help you any moment now.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

Ah, that must be her. Don’t keep her waiting. Oh, and do wear that suit I love so much, will you? I hung it in the closet for you.

JUNO: You bought me clothes?!

NUREYEV (FROM PHONE): Don’t say I never get you anything. See you soon!

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.

SOUND: BEEP. ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. MUFFLED VOICES.

VOICE: Mr. Engstrom’s private room is just at the end of this hall.

JUNO: Would you mind not smoking? I got sensitive lungs.

VOICE: Me too. They don’t do so well if I’m not smoking. You learn to live with it, hon.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

NUREYEV: Dahlia! There you are!

JUNO: Hi… honey.

ENGSTROM: Thank you, Valencia.

Dahlia Rose. Your husband’s told me so much about you.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

Have a seat, please.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It looked like Engstrom could buy quite the operation. The rings on his wrinkled, shaking fingers were weighed down by gems nearly as big as paperweights and the cigar he smoked must have cost a lot of money, because the stink was awful.

The most impressive part of the ensemble, though, was Engstrom’s ‘friend’ Valencia. She was exactly the kind of bodyguard I didn’t want to deal with because she didn’t look like a bodyguard at all. She looked like a lounge singer, all snaky neck and eyes too far apart.

And she didn’t look armed. That worried me.

ENGSTROM: Valencia, if you would.

VOICE [VALENCIA]: Yes, Mr. Engstrom.

SOUND: CARDS SHUFFLING.

ENGSTROM: The game your husband and I have agreed upon takes some time to prepare, so let’s get to know each other a bit, shall we? Drink?

JUNO: Heavily.

SOUND: LIQUID POURING.

ENGSTROM: Duke was just telling me, Dahlia, that you two lifted the Coveter’s Jewel during its museum tour in the Outer Rim.

JUNO: Sounds like Duke.

NUREYEV: I’m surprised word about the Jewel hasn’t made it to Mars. It was a very big job on the Outer Rim.

ENGSTROM: The Outer Rim is a very small pond, Rose. Your whales hardly rank for minnows here.

NUREYEV: Well, that’s just how we were feeling, Mr. Engstrom! That’s why we thought we ought to sell that rock and use the cash to go after something really exciting. And that’s when we stumbled upon… you know.

ENGSTROM: Plans to stop the Utgard Express. If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Rose: if you can stop that train, what are you doing here? You should be out there, looting to your heart’s content.

JUNO: I was just wondering the same thing.

NUREYEV: Well, there’s the Utgard security team, isn’t there? If there’s any sign the train has stopped, within sixty seconds we’d be drowning in guards, and that’s not nearly enough time to get what we need.

But you, Mr. Engstrom – I hear you know how to get on that train without alerting security.

ENGSTROM: And so here we are. You can stop the train, but not board it; I can board the train, but can’t leave once I’ve done so. Each of us has information the other needs, but cannot allow the other to learn. This would be an impasse, were it not for our game. The most complicated game in the galaxy, they say.

JUNO: Sounds… fun?

ENGSTROM: A game of wagers where the stakes don’t come in creds, but rather… questions. Information. We call it: Rangian Street Poker.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

VALENCIA: The game is ready, Mr. Engstrom.

JUNO: That’s the game? There’s got to be a hundred decks on this table!

NUREYEV: Could we talk our way through the first hand? Dahlia gets a little cranky when he feels left out.

ENGSTROM: If you insist.

Your Ask, Rose.

NUREYEV: Very generous of you!

So, Dahlia, one of us asks a question to start the round. Let’s start with. um… How do we get aboard the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: (SIGHS) The game’s not ending that quickly.

NUREYEV: Now Mr. Engstrom counters with his own question, and if I agree to it, we play a hand to see which of us gets his question answered. The counter-asker can’t refuse the question; only the asker can turn down the round.

ENGSTROM: Like so: how do I stop the Utgard Express?

NUREYEV: (CHUCKLING) I’ll pass, of course.

JUNO: So if he doesn’t like your question, he has to ask something you don’t want to answer.

ENGSTROM: Just so.

Ah, I nearly forgot. One last matter of business: in a game where each player stakes the truth, we must, of course, address the punishment for lying. And so, let us discuss your… collateral.

NUREYEV: We’re just going by Standard Variation rules, aren’t we? If I lie, you kill me; if you lie, I kill you. (LAUGHS) That’s a rule as old as human civilization, Mr. Engstrom. I think I can follow it.

ENGSTROM: How good to know I’m playing with an honest man.

Detective Steel, would you mind passing me my drink?

JUNO: Get it yours– …what did you just call me?

ENGSTROM: Oh, did I let something slip? (CHUCKLES)

NUREYEV: …Hm. I take it the game has changed, then.

ENGSTROM: Not if you’re as honest as you claim to be.

Did you really think I’d clear out my afternoon for a couple of yokels claiming they can stop the Utgard Express? These streets runneth over with people who think they’ve solved that train. Hobbyists and lunatics and liars, the Utgard Express draws them all… and usually to my doorstep.

NUREYEV: Yet you’ve made time for me.

ENGSTROM: Before I play with anyone, I have their name and address on file – the surveillance system in the front lobby takes care of that for me. Thus, should the terms of honesty within our game be violated, I know exactly where to collect my collateral. But you, Rose… we couldn’t find you anywhere. No address, no name; it’s as if you don’t exist. That interests me. I fully believe you know how to stop the Utgard Express, and what’s more, I believe that isn’t even the most valuable secret you hold. But that does still raise the question of your collateral. If I can’t find you when your lies reveal themselves, you’re hardly motivated to tell the truth.

NUREYEV: So you’ll need a life you can take. Someone you can find.

SOUND: SHIFTING IN SEATS.

JUNO: What?

Why’re you two looking at- me…

(UNDER HIS BREATH) Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.

NUREYEV: If I lie you’re going to kill him.

ENGSTROM: We know where to find him. Detective Steel could not be more visible if he were aflame.

NUREYEV: He does know how to get into trouble, doesn’t he. I’ll accept your terms.

JUNO: Anyone gonna check if I’m okay with this? Like, anybody?

ENGSTROM: Well, now that that’s settled, let’s play. It is my turn to ask.

What planet were you born on?

JUNO: Every time. Every goddamn time.

NUREYEV: I’ll counter: how do you have access to the Oasis’s security footage?

ENGSTROM: I accept. Let’s play.

SOUND: BELL DINGS, CARDS SHUFFLING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I tried to follow the game. I didn’t stand a chance. Their hands shot across the table, flipping cards and shuffling decks. They had a lot to say about—

ENGSTROM: Rapids?

NUREYEV: Concourse.

ENGSTROM: North or South?

NUREYEV: West.

JUNO (NARRATOR): —but it was all gibberish to me until the dust settled, and Nureyev and Engstrom each had a hand of two cards.

ENGSTROM: Reveal.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Engstrom had a pair of aces. Nureyev had a two of clubs and a picture of a goat.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

NUREYEV: There we are, then.

SOUND: PAPER RIPPING.

JUNO: Didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Rose.

NUREYEV: Nothing to be sore about. The winner always tears his hand, and the Twin Wargoats is one of the best hands in the game. I won.

JUNO: I… I give up.

ENGSTROM: My answer: I pay the Oasis generously for these private rooms. I’m retired; this is the only sport that still entertains me; they want to keep their star customer. So as long as I bring them publicity, the Casino doesn’t care how I choose my opponents.

NUREYEV: Well, ask a boring question, get a boring answer. Your Ask, Engstrom.

ENGSTROM: My Ask… hmm… What is your real name?

JUNO (NARRATOR): If Nureyev was worried, his face didn’t show it. Most of the time he just looked bored, with a half-smile like he was humoring the world, waiting for it to do something worth his attention again.

NUREYEV: How do we get on board the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: Very interesting. (CHUCKLES) Pass, of course.

NUREYEV: Of course. Shall we speed things up a bit, Engstrom?

ENGSTROM: I thought you would never ask.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Then they really started moving – cards and questions flying across the table. I tried to follow the game. The hands never made sense to me, but there was one thing I could follow well enough:

SOUND: BELL DINGS. PAPER TEARING.

NUREYEV: Your win. I’m Outer Rim, originally. Brahma.

SOUND: BELL DINGS. PAPER TEARING.

NUREYEV: Your win. No military experience.

SOUND: PAPER TEARING, BELL DINGING SEVERAL TIMES.

NUREYEV: Your win. Your win. Your win.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Nureyev was losing. Bad.

He didn’t give in, though. He’d ask his questions; he’d lose; and over and over again they’d return to the same old battleground:

NUREYEV: How do we get onto the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The message was clear and cold as the ice in their drinks: as soon as either of those questions was answered, the game would be over. But what the hell did Engstrom expect to get out of Nureyev’s name?

Valencia stood behind us. Something about her made me nervous. Her boss was winning but her movements were jittery, impatient: she was smoking a cigarette out of one of those long, fancy holders, but she’d chewed the hell out of her end of it.

NUREYEV: I’ll hit the corners.

ENGSTROM: East to West.

JUNO: It’s Valencia, right? Mind getting me something to drink?

VALENCIA: Do I look like a waiter to you, tough guy?

JUNO: I placed an order and you looked like you wanted me to die, so yeah. Scotch, double.

VALENCIA: You can get your own drink. I’m watching the game.

JUNO (NARRATOR): She was watching pretty intently, too, her eyes flicking from card to card, deck to deck. She looked like an expert – which made it funny that she didn’t know the first goddamn thing about it.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM.

It took a second for that thought to sink in. I didn’t know how it got there, and it barely made sense. She’d set the cards up; she was watching like a hawk. But the actual rules? She knew as much about Rangian Street Poker as I did.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM STOPS.

I was sure of it. I just wasn’t sure how I was sure of it.

She bit her cigarette holder hard and glared at me.

VALENCIA: A picture would last longer, you know.

JUNO: Why don’t you sit at the table, anyway? Better view.

VALENCIA: The view is fine from back here.

JUNO: You don’t say? Maybe I’ll join you.

VALENCIA: Mr. Rose, would you mind telling your date to behave himself?

NUREYEV: Yes.

ENGSTROM: Then I’ll do it for you. Mr. Steel, you will leave my assistant alone, or you will wait outside.

JUNO: She started it.

NUREYEV: (LAUGHS) What can I say? Good luck charms come in all forms. Mine came out “petulant detective.”

ENGSTROM: (THUMPS TABLE) He cannot stand back there!

VALENCIA: Move.

JUNO: You move. I like this spot. Right behind my good pal Rose – how you feelin’, Rosey?

NUREYEV: Thoroughly entertained.

JUNO: And besides, your spot isn’t even so special, Valencia. The one thing you’ve got a really good view of is, well, Rose’s hand.

ENGSTROM: (CLEARS THROAT, COUGHS)

NUREYEV: (LAUGHS)

JUNO: Just saying, it’d be too bad if we found out your boss had an unfair edge.

ENGSTROM: Just what are you trying to imply?

JUNO: Oh, did it seem like I was implying something? Then I’ll be blunt: you are cheating. For a card shark you’ve got a pretty bad poker face, Engstrom. The second I stepped between Valencia and Rose here, you looked like you were gonna be sick.

NUREYEV: Very impressive, detective. So, Engstrom? Are you cheating?

ENGSTROM: Is- is that your question?

JUNO: Oh, no. No. No, no more questions. No more cards. And definitely no more of this dumb, dumb, stupid dumb game, either!

ENGSTROM: You’ll never know how to get on board the Utgard Express.

JUNO: Empty threat, Engstrom. We’d never learn a thing about that train playing against a cheater anyway! Let’s go, Rose.

ENGSTROM: I am not cheating!

SOUND: DULL THUMP. PAPERS FLUTTERING.

Valencia! Clean this up!

VALENCIA: Yes, sir.

NUREYEV: Not cheating, you say.

JUNO: You… liar! Y- you said if Rose lies you get to track me down and kill me! Then you just come out with that?!

ENGSTROM: I will not tolerate this, do you hear me? You have no evidence!

JUNO: Evidence?!

NUREYEV: (SIGHS) He’s right, Juno. Have a seat.

JUNO: Have you lost your goddamn mind?

NUREYEV: No, but you appear to have misplaced yours.

JUNO: Alright, that’s it. I’m callin’ a time out!

ENGSTROM: Time out? What sort of game do you think this is?

JUNO: Fine, halftime, seventh-inning stretch, whatever you want to call it. Rose, you’re comin’ with me.

NUREYEV: Excuse me, Engstrom. My private eye is acting up.

ENGSTROM: Put some drops in him, then. He’d better behave himself when you come back!

JUNO: Don’t count on it!

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

NUREYEV: Juno, this display is entirely unprofessional, even for—

JUNO: You want to tell me what the hell all of that was about?

NUREYEV: Well, you see, there’s a weapon, on a train—!

JUNO: You know what I mean! I- I bailed you out ten times in there and you just keep digging yourself deeper!

NUREYEV: I’m having some difficulty following this metaphor, Juno. Am I a sailor or a ditch-digger?

JUNO: Oh, quit joking around.

NUREYEV: Fine. Engstrom has backed himself into a corner, and we are in position to take advantage of that. Or we would be, if we were in there right now.

JUNO: He just admitted to cheating and you want to keep playing Go Fish?

NUREYEV: There are several games being played at that table, Juno, but I’m afraid Go Fish isn’t one of them. I am playing Rangian Street Poker as a distraction from the real game at hand. Your game.

JUNO: I’m playing a game? Didn’t you think I’d need to know about it?

NUREYEV: You do know. You’ve already made the first move.

JUNO: But—

NUREYEV: Engstrom has lied to us, Juno – and after making the punishment for lying absolutely clear!

JUNO: But you said we didn’t have any– evidence…

Ohhhhhhhhhh. You want me to find the evidence.

NUREYEV: Glad you’ve caught up. May we go back now?

JUNO: So that’s it? You play a game while I stop a con artist and save the world.

NUREYEV: I said I needed you.

JUNO: To be your stooge, maybe. It’s not like you’ve got anything on the line. Worst case scenario for you is that this game goes belly-up, and a few days from now I go belly-up, too.

NUREYEV: You’re not still whining about the collateral, are you? My God, you’re a sensitive little thing.

JUNO: You’re betting my life!

NUREYEV: I would never bet your life.

JUNO: Come on, do you seriously think I’m that much of an idiot? If you lose, you’ll make up some other name and it’ll all fall on me. You’re throwing me under again, just like you did with the Kanagawas.

NUREYEV: Like the Kanagawas? Really? You have no idea how much I did to keep the Kanagawas off you, Juno. You have no idea how much I’ve risked already. For you.

If I lose this hand… I’m telling him my name. Do you understand what that means for me?

JUNO: Just because the name’s on your birth certificate doesn’t mean it’s worth anything. You pick up a new name with your groceries every week.

SOUND: FAUCET TURNS, WATER RUNNING.

NUREYEV: A word of advice to the crass detective: it’s not kind to tell someone their gift means nothing to you.

JUNO: Hey, I, I didn’t—

NUREYEV: Of course my name is worth something. I cycle those other names out, but by now I’m skilled enough not to leave a trace with them. But my birth name… links me to things it would be best if everyone forgot.

That name is very nearly my only weakness, and I’m risking it all, here. On you.

JUNO: …First off, I don’t believe you.

NUREYEV: Your denial knows no bounds!

JUNO: I’d call it skepticism, but we’ll agree to disagree. Second, if you are telling the truth, you’re an idiot. You bet your life on me? You barely know me!

NUREYEV: This isn’t about knowing you. It’s about trust. I trusted you, didn’t I? In return for that, I only ask that you trust me. So why not? Just let go, Juno. We could do anything in arms together.

JUNO: Fine. Do I want to trust you? Sure. Hell, I want to trust Engstrom, too, and Valencia, and this whole sorry planet. I want to gather us all up in a big group hug, and kiss, and slobber, and talk about how nice it is that we can all be so honest with each other. It sounds great, sure, whatever. And it also sounds like a good way to get dead.

NUREYEV: Is it? I’m still alive, aren’t I? And I trust you.

JUNO: (SIGHS) I have no idea why you do.

NUREYEV: Oh, I have my reasons. Your eyes—

JUNO: My what?

NUREYEV: Sharpshooter’s eyes, of course. And I trust your mind: a master detective’s. And most of all because I trust your will: stubborn as a child in a supermarket.

JUNO: That all sounds nice, but is it really enough reason to trust someone you barely—

NUREYEV: And, of course, I trust you because I have researched you. Extensively.

JUNO: What?

NUREYEV: Just… an incredible amount of research.

JUNO: Quit it!

NUREYEV: (LAUGHING) That’s the cranky detective I know and… tolerate.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

VALENCIA: (THROUGH THE DOOR) Mr. Engstrom wants you all to know that he’s getting bored. Are you two done kissing in there, or should we call this game right now?

NUREYEV: Thank you, Valencia! Tell Mr. Engstrom we’ll be there in just a moment.

So, detective. Are there any other insecurities I can massage before we return to the game?

JUNO (NARRATOR): I still had the notes I’d taken from his jacket. I felt them burning in my pocket. Just one question, and I’d know. All I had to do was pull them out and ask.

JUNO: No. I’m all set.

NUREYEV: Good. I’m counting on you, you know.

JUNO: If you are, you’re an idiot. A real idiot.

NUREYEV: Well, it’s up to you to prove that either way, isn’t it? Come along. Engstrom is waiting.

ENGSTROM: It’s about time. Is everything under control?

NUREYEV: As controlled as he’ll ever be. My detective gets restless if he isn’t taken for a walk every few hours.

ENGSTROM: While you were away I received an invitation I don’t intend to decline. I can give you twenty minutes more. Enough time for a few hands; a last chance at a few big questions.

NUREYEV: Why do I get the sense you only have one question in mind?

ENGSTROM: Sit. Let’s play.

Now: what is your name?

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) Juno. I can only hold him off for so long. This is your only opening. Are you ready?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) I’m looking, alright.

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) Good.

(LOUDER) What is the access code to your personal bank account?

ENGSTROM: (LAUGHING) I see! Quite a defensive maneuver, Rose!

NUREYEV: Pass or play, Engstrom?

ENGSTROM: Pass, of course. I wouldn’t risk my retirement on you. And besides, you know how this game has to end.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I checked Valencia for the usual tells. Nothing. No hand motions; Engstrom wasn’t even looking at her. Whatever they were using, it was nothing I’d ever seen before.

NUREYEV: How do we board the Utgard Express?

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): We were running out of time, and Engstrom wasn’t willing to budge anymore.

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Not a single hand was played. We were going nowhere, and I couldn’t find anything.

NUREYEV: Juno.

JUNO: I know, I know!

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Pass.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The moron had staked his entire life on me. He was about to find out just how big a mistake he’d made.

ENGSTROM: What is your name? Your name, Rose! What is your name!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Until, finally…

ENGSTROM: That’s enough, Rose. I was under the impression that you had either the courage to play or the decency to admit your cowardice. I was wrong on both accounts.

JUNO: Courage? You’re cheating.

ENGSTROM: If you levy these false accusations against me one more time, Mr. Steel!

NUREYEV: I apologize for the detective’s outburst, Mr. Engstrom. Tensions run high in a game like this.

ENGSTROM: Were the game played properly, they might. I’ve taken naps tenser than this travesty. I will give you one final chance, Rose. One last hand. After that, I’m afraid I have other obligations to which I must attend.

NUREYEV: Alright, then.

How do we board the Utgard Express?

JUNO: You’re joking. He’s cheating! He’s gonna cream you!

ENGSTROM: What is your name?

NUREYEV: Play.

SOUND: BELL DINGS.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) You’re pulling this too early! I am not ready!

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) Our time has run out, I’m afraid. What do you have so far?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) They’re not communicating directly. Best guess is she’s got something on her.

ENGSTROM: Care to share your conversation with the rest of the table?

NUREYEV: Corners!

(QUIETLY) Is it a camera?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) No. No lenses, and both their eyes are organic. No way for the feed to get through.

NUREYEV: (QUIETLY) I don’t want to know what it isn’t, Juno.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) I know, but—

ENGSTROM: And that, my friend, is the game.

NUREYEV: Don’t be ridic– Well.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I had to look at the hands twice to shake the déjà vu. Nureyev had a pair of aces. Engstrom had a two of clubs and a picture of a goat.

ENGSTROM: Heh. I win. A fitting end, I’d say. Now, Rose. Your name.

NUREYEV: Last chance, Juno.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Valencia was clearing the table. I knew she must have the key to Engstrom’s method somewhere on her, but I didn’t know where.

My eyes met hers, and then… I saw it.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM.

It hit me all at once, a picture clearer than thought: her cigarette.

In my head, a diagram. A cutaway of her cigarette: a hidden button by her teeth, shortwave transmitter, Morse Code translation drive. I knew how it was powered, what parts it took to build it. I even heard a few words of an argument they’d had about how it needed to make smoke, about how the chips couldn’t take that kind of heat, about how they’d have to find a way to make it work.

I saw it all. I had no time to think about how I’d seen it.

SOUND: STRANGE HUM STOPS.

VALENCIA: Feeling emotional, Detective? Your nose is bleeding.

JUNO: (SNIFFS) Huh. Thanks for the tip. Mind if I bum a smoke?

VALENCIA: For the last time, hon, I– oof!

SOUND: PUNCH.

ENGSTROM: What the hell do you think you’re doing!

JUNO: Something really, really satisfying.

ENGSTROM: Put down that cigarette!

JUNO: Gladly.

SOUND: SMASH. FEEDBACK WHINE.

ENGSTROM: Ah! Damned feedback!

JUNO: Well, well. Funny blend of tobacco Valencia’s into – you ever heard of a cigarette with a wireless transmitter tucked away inside of it, Rose?

SOUND: FEEDBACK STOPS.

NUREYEV: I’m going to guess that earphone you’ve just pulled out isn’t for listening to the radio, Engstrom.

ENGSTROM: So you caught me in a lie. So what? You still don’t know how to board the Utgard Express.

NUREYEV: No, but you were very, very clear on the consequences for lying, weren’t you.

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

Juno, turn away, please. I’m going to stab Mr. Engstrom to death now.

ENGSTROM: Kill me? You’re a fool, Rose. I told you: the Oasis rests on my notoriety. If you kill me, if you hurt their bottom line, you’ll wish you died here.

NUREYEV: Well, Juno? He raises a valid point.

JUNO: He does. But there are worse things we can do than kill him. Said so himself.

ENGSTROM: I’ve been in this business too long for empty threats to faze me.

JUNO: Don’t worry, this one’s full to bursting. I’m betting the Oasis wouldn’t like it if word gets out that their big celebrity’s a cheater. Bad publicity.

NUREYEV: And bad publicity means bad business. How did you put it, Engstrom? “If you hurt their bottom line, you’ll wish you died here?”

ENGSTROM: (GROWLS)

NUREYEV: There is an out, of course.

ENGSTROM: I’ve been after that train for half a century, Rose, and you’re going to rob it out from under me?

NUREYEV: That is the plan, yes.

ENGSTROM: This new generation of thieves hasn’t a scrap of honor. What has crime come to?

NUREYEV: Bigger and better things. Now talk.

ENGSTROM: (SIGHS) As you know, that train moves too quickly to be approached. But a lockbox is useless if one can’t put anything in it or take anything out.

JUNO: So it has to slow down to take any cargo.

ENGSTROM: It slows down once a week to intercept shipments. There’s a site out in the desert. They launch high-speed transport drones which intercept the train and drop their payloads. The next shipment is… tomorrow morning. Five o’clock.

NUREYEV: And where is that launch site?

SOUND: WRITING.

ENGSTROM: Here. The coordinates.

NUREYEV: They had most certainly better be. Wouldn’t want anyone to start asking where you get your cigarettes. Come along, Juno.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

ENGSTROM: You’ll regret crossing me, Rose. Do you hear me? You’ll remember this mistake as long as you live.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

NUREYEV: I doubt that. You’ve proven yourself eminently forgettable already. Ta-ta… whoever you are.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): My head was swimming after that game – a panicked little one-armed doggy-paddle, going around and around, sinking with every stroke. We won. I’d created the opening, and Nureyev delivered the killing blow. We won – and we’d even done it with style. But I didn’t feel like a winner. Looking at Nureyev, thinking about those notes in his pocket, thinking about how I still had no idea who he really was… I felt like I’d just traded one con artist for another.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

NUREYEV: Why the long face, detective? We beat him!

JUNO: Don’t remind me.

NUREYEV: Oh, cheer up. You’re alive! That’s better than most people!

JUNO: Most people who work with you?

NUREYEV: No, just most people. What’s gotten into you?

JUNO: Sitting down to a death threat isn’t exactly my idea of a nice afternoon.

NUREYEV: I told you, Juno, that I was never going to let that happen.

JUNO: Because a master criminal is the poster boy for honesty, right.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, CLOSES.

NUREYEV: If this working relationship is to be at all effective, detective, you’re going to need to at least make an attempt to trust me.

JUNO: Trust you! Why the hell should I?

NUREYEV: I’ve saved your life at least once today.

JUNO: I figured out the cigarette!

NUREYEV: Ah, yes. I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you do that, exactly?

JUNO: Look, I’ve got no reason to trust you, alright? You lied to me. You stole Grim’s Mask from me. Then you swing in out of nowhere on a beam of goddamn starlight and you expect me to just forget everything and not think it’s a little convenient?

NUREYEV: Convenient? Juno, you called me. Through Valles Vicky.

JUNO: I—! You—!

NUREYEV: If it was convenient for anyone, it was me. I have very few allies on Mars and had presented myself with a remarkably risky, not to mention extremely deadly, two-man job. I was running out of time rapidly. And then I get a call about a certain detective, who – what was your phrase? Ah: “swung in on a beam of starlight.” Convenient, certainly. But not all convenience is conspiracy.

JUNO: If you honestly believed that, Nureyev, you’d be dead.

NUREYEV: Think what you like. I have neither the time nor energy to make you believe me.

SOUND: RUSTLING, CLINKING.

JUNO: What are you doing?!

NUREYEV: Ah, this? An ancient maneuver, practiced by all the galaxy’s most powerful men and women. It’s known as ‘getting ready for sleep.’ You should try it. Immediately.

JUNO: I’m not done with you!

NUREYEV: I certainly hope not. Good night.

JUNO: I’m not going to let you gut me in my sleep!

Listen to me, damn it! Let’s see you try to explain these!

SOUND: CRUMPLING PAPER.

NUREYEV: What in the world…?

You took these from my coat pocket, didn’t you?

JUNO: I did. What do they say?

NUREYEV: Juno…

JUNO: Goddammit, what the hell do they say!

NUREYEV: These… are doodles.

JUNO: What?

NUREYEV: Even a master criminal has slow moments where he isn’t plotting to kill innocent private eyes in their sleep. So I doodle. Sometimes they end up in my pockets.

JUNO: Like I buy that!

NUREYEV: This one is a cat.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

Note the ears, the tail, the six compound eyes. And this…

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

A party. Balloons, dancers, music.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

This is a star hauler… a design for a more secure safe… a zoo I once saw… a—

JUNO: Yeah, yeah. I got it.

NUREYEV: I put my livelihood in your hands, you know. My invisibility is the most precious thing I have, and I trusted you with it. Why? Because in our work, trust is not optional. I have done the labor of trusting you, and now I ask that you return the same professional courtesy.

JUNO: You must go after some pretty easy marks if you think that’s gonna work on me, Nureyev.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

NUREYEV: Where are you going?

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

JUNO: Making a damn call. What’s it to you?

NUREYEV: Goodnight, Detective Steel.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES. FOOTSTEPS. COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: Come on, Rita, pick up, pick up…

RITA (FROM COMMS): Hiiiiiiii!!

JUNO: Rita, I need you to—

RITA (RECORDING): This is the office of the Steel Detective Agency, soon to be called Hard-as-Steel Investigations, or maybe Mista Steel Investigations: The Best Ones There Is, or OOH, OOH, maybe Steel and Rita Detective– NO! Rita and Steel Detective Agency! YES, that’s the one, I GOT IT!

JUNO: Damn it, Rita.

RITA (RECORDING): Aaaaaanyway, the boss ain’t here right now and neither am I, so you should probably call back during our normal business hours, which are– uh-oh.

JUNO (RECORDING): Rita! You’re not messing with the answering machine again, are you?

RITA (RECORDING): Nuh-uh, boss, I wasn’t, I swear!

JUNO (RECORDING): You better not be! I told you I liked that message the way it was!

RITA (RECORDING): But Bosssss, it was sooooo boooooooring, and I just—

SOUND: BEEP.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO: (SIGHS) Rita… Rita, this is Juno. I… I have no idea why I’m calling.

You want to know the truth? I’m not even sure how much I can tell you – or how much trouble I’m gonna get the both of us in trying to tell it.

The stakes are high this time, Rita. This isn’t some argument over stream timetables or cheating wives anymore. This is… everything. Giving this to me, Jesus, what was he thinking?

A guy does that for you, Rita, do you have to trust him back? Even if you aren’t sure you know who he is, even if you aren’t sure you know his real face, his real name… or what he’s really capable of doing to you?

And with this much on the line do I really have a choice?

I want you to close up the office. Take a week off. Take a month, hell. And if you don’t hear from me by then, there’s a safe underneath my desk. I want you to take—

SOUND: BEEP.

COMPUTER VOICE: End of message.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: She’ll figure it out.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPENS.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: RAIN & MUSIC.

CONCIERGE: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider supporting The Penumbra on Patreon. You could receive episodes early, read our scripts, and hear commentary by our cast and crew for only a few dollars per episode. Please consider supporting the artists who make this possible. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Hannah Tsim for her incredibly generous contribution per episode. Thank you, Hannah.

You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories farther and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Train From Nowhere, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Noah Simes as Peter Nureyev, Emery Westlake as Brock Engstrom, Kristie Norris as Valencia, and Kate Jones as Rita.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Original music by Ryan Vibert.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m so sorry you’ve been called away, dear Traveler. We eagerly await your return.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

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arosnowflake · 6 years ago

Text

Seducing Trouble

Genre: supernatural/slice of life

Wordcount: 1716

Notes: based on a prompt by an anon on @aroworlds, but I’m gonna say sorry in advance because I don’t know how well this fills it? There is a casual coming out, but it’s not really the focus, and I’m very sorry. Furthermore, this is set in an ongoing universe of mine, and I hope that I explained the basic gist of it well enough. This has low romance and very light pda, but heavier mentions of seduction of the magic kind, although that gets shut down pretty quick. Also light swearing. Re-upload because the last ‘read more’ link got broken when I changed my url; also did some minor editing/rewriting while I was at it. The original is here.

It was the busiest day they had so far this year, the café was packed, Nancy was outside dealing with two warring dwarven clans, and frankly, Nathalie did not have time for this.

She gave the kid another once-over. He was small, tiny even, but thin enough that it made him look lanky anyway. His bright red hair stood out against his milky white skin, and he was nervously fidgeting with its curls, his hands almost shaking, looking as if a single mean word would make him crumple up into a ball and cry.

In short, he did not seem suited to work at a café where the job description included ‘scare away alien bandits and fight with powerful witches’. And now it was her job to tell him that.

“What was your name again, kid?”

“Ethan, miss,” he squeaked.

Actually squeaked, in a high-pitch voice and everything. He’d be pulled apart molecule by molecule before the end of the week if she let him get this job.

Nathalie sighed. He seemed like a nice kid, and she really didn’t want to do this, but she’d rather have him heartbroken than literally broken.

“Listen, Ethan...”

And of course, right at that moment, Nancy came flying back inside, crashing into the closest table.

“Alright!” she screeched, wringing coffee out of her pink hair. “That’s it! All of you are blacklisted!”

In the doorway, a dwarf watched her, horrified. “But -”

“No buts, I warned all of you that fighting is not tolerated on the premises, and now there’s property damage! Not a single one of you is setting a foot inside ever again!”

“The Darleurs started it!” the dwarf screeched, stomping his little feet.

Nancy sent him a glare, and even with several meters between them, the dwarf quieted. “I could not care less about who started it,” she hissed. “Until you learn to behave like civilized beings, you will not be served here. Now get out before I blow your brains out!”

And the dwarf proved to have something resembling a brain to be blown out in the first place, because he moved out of there, quick.

“Ehm, excuse me?” the man who had been sitting at the crashed-in table tentatively spoke up. “Do I get a new coffee?”

Immediately, Nancy’s demeanor changed from ‘lion on the prowl’ to ‘charming house cat’.

“Of course! Let me just give you a new table. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, my own timeline is much more violent.”

Smoothly, Nancy seated the man at another table, and finally headed over to the counter.

“Don’t you think blacklisting was kind of extreme?” Nathalie asked, handing her a towel.

Nancy snorted. “Please, they would have destroyed the restaurant if my protective charms hadn’t kept it standing. This’ll teach them to behave themselves in the future.” She accepted the towel with a grateful look and began rubbing her shirt dry.

Nathalie sent a quick glance at Ethan, who was gripping the counter tightly and staring at Nancy with a mixture of fear and awe. At least he seemed to have some sense of basic self-preservation.

“Does that happen often?” he asked.

Nancy blinked, and only seemed to notice him then.

“And who are you?”

“Ethan, miss. I’m applying for the job of waiter.”

Nancy perked up immediately. “Oh, excellent! As you see, we really need an extra hand. And yes, this happens often.”

Ethan hummed. “Explains why the pay is so high.”

Nancy threw her head back and laughed, and it was all Nathalie could do not to sink her head into her arms from despair. The kid practically admitted that he only wanted to work here because of the high salary, and her response was to laugh. It was moments like these that made Nathalie wonder how on Earth they’d managed to keep the café going for this long.

“Yeah, that’s why the pay is so high,” Nancy finally confirmed, still giggling slightly. “You got any experience?”

Ethan shrugged. “Only worked for a bit in the school cafeteria, but I do know how to make coffee.”

“Perfect!” she shoved a coffee cup in Ethan’s hands. “You’re on probation for today, if you do well we’ll hire you.”

“Nancy!” Nathalie hissed, low enough that Ethan couldn’t hear. Nancy ignored her.

“The man I crashed into earlier wants a latte, so that’ll be your first order. House rules are that everyone who sits here for an extended period of time needs to order something, no one gets free coffee no matter how hard they beg, the currency that’s paid with needs to be from Earth and human at the very least, guests must be respectful to the employees or they get thrown out, and no fighting. March!”

Ethan practically glowed and nodded eagerly, scrambling to the other side of the counter, almost tripping over the broom that rested against it. “Yes, miss!”

“And stop with the miss, call me Nancy.”

“Yes, Nancy!”

“Better.”

As soon as possible, Nathalie pulled her aside.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, sending her a glare.

Nancy just seemed confused. “I put Ethan on probation?”

“He pretty much said that he only wants to work here because the pay is high!”

“Yeah, of course he does, did we have any other reason when we were his age?”

She groaned. “Nance, he looks like a stiff wind could blow him over; he won’t survive a day in here.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and pecked her on the nose. “Babe, don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

“No pda in the workplace,” Nathalie muttered, but she relaxed as Nancy squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” she gave a soft smile. “Just for today, okay? We’ve already had to blacklist two dwarven clans, I doubt we’ll have any more trouble.”

Of course, right at that moment, the door opened and trouble walked in.

She was gorgeous, with golden strands of hair framing a face that seemed to house the sun. Her skin was like ivory catching the last rays of sunshine, and her beautiful blue eyes, visible from across the room, shone and glittered like a precious stone.

Immediately, she let Nancy’s hand go.

The woman turned to Nathalie, and she almost fainted.

“Hello,” she said, with a brilliant smile and honeyed voice. “Can I have a cup of coffee from the lovely miss? I’m afraid I don’t have any money.”

“Oh, that’s - I mean - of course!” Nathalie stammered, nervously touching the ends of her afro. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her that something was wrong, but then the woman winked on her, and all she could think was wow.

“Follow me, please!” Nancy said from beside her, and Nathalie felt the sudden urge to push her to the ground and take the attention back for herself. “We’ll get you a coffee right away!”

“Uh, no, we aren’t.”

Ethan stood there next to the coffee machine, the latte still in his hand, eyebrows raised.

“I thought you said nobody was allowed to free coffee?” Ethan asked.

Nancy waved him off. “We’ll make an exception for this lovely lady.”

Ethan glanced at them, and then at the woman, and slowly set the latte down.

“Yeah, that’s a no.”

The woman strode forward, reaching for Ethan with a radiant smile.

“Oh, please?” she said, latching on to his arm. “Surely you can give little old me something?”

In response, Ethan’s arm shot out to the broom he’d almost tripped over, and whacked her over the head.

She screeched and fell back, loosening her grip on Ethan’s arm. It was like a spell had been broken. Abruptly, Nathalie found her coming back to herself, almost stumbling from the impact, and she blinked, dazed, wondering what had just happened.

The woman, who had earlier been so beautiful, was still absolutely gorgeous. But now she caught the hungry glint in her eye, saw the unnatural way the light danced over her skin, and noticed that her too-sweet voice, much less hypnotic now that she was only screaming, was laced with cyanide.

Next to her, Nancy stumbled, swaying slightly on her legs, and shared a glance with her. “Succubus,” she said, a hard set to her eyes.

Nathalie just groaned.

“Why did you do that?” the succubus snarled.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” Ethan said, stone in his voice, still clutching the broom.

“You’re supposed to be in love with me!”

Ethan snorted. “Aromantic, so that’s gonna be kind of difficult.”

“At least be seduced!”

“I’m gay.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yup, and I’m just as serious when I say that you’ll either get the hell out of here, or I’m going to beat you with this broom until you stumble out of here with broken bones.”

She turned to Nathalie, batting her eyelashes, but it was too late; the spell was broken.

“Are you gonna let him do that to me?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning as the succubus’ mouth fell open.

“In fact,” Nancy added. “I’m personally going to throw a grenade of magic into your direction if you don’t do as he says.”

The succubus shrank back, incredulous. “You’re a witch?”

“Yes, and one that never finished charm school, so watch out.”

She blanched, and took off running. But not to the entrance; she ran to the nearest customer, the poor time traveler who had gotten crashed into earlier.

“What about you? Won’t you buy me a coffee?”

The man’s eyes were wide and dreamy. “I -”

“I think the fuck not,” Ethan growled, and he raised his broom.

The next few minutes were spent in a blur of screaming, whacking, and succubi getting run out of the café by a seventeen year old kid who vaguely resembled a translucent twig.

“I don’t care what you say,” Nancy announced. “I’m hiring him.”

#my writing #my posts #aro stuff

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thepathsofdestiny · 8 years ago

Text

White Lies

~*~ Five lies, spoken with confidence. Five doubts, whispered in the dark. A day in the life of the Phantom Thieves, starting in sunlight, ending in fog... The third installment in my Tailwind series, after Small Steps and Two of a Kind. Read it on AO3 here. ~*~ Ever since Shiho Suzui stepped off the roof of Shujin Academy, she’d had vivid, recurring dreams. In one, she’s sitting on a subway platform, bathed in an eerie red light. In another, she’s having her fortune told by a girl in blue with butterflies in her hair. Since she got out of the hospital, she’d started having a third: a dream of riding on horseback through a forest, banner flying in the breeze.

It was from this particular dream that Shiho awoke, sprawled on a spare futon on Ann’s bedroom floor. She raised her arms above her head and stretched, sighing. She could still feel the echoes of her dream; the ghost of a bow and arrow in her hands, the caress of the wind in her hair. She ground the heels of her palms into her eyes, blinking the sleep away, shaking the phantoms from her fingers. She looked up at Ann, an undignified heap face-down in her pillow, hair arrayed every which way. She was half-falling out of bed, one arm hanging off the edge and brushing against the floor. Shiho reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Ann’s ear. It did little to tame her wild blonde mane- it was like trying to use a brush and dustpan to clean up after a hurricane- but nonetheless, it brought a smile to Shiho’s face. Ann Takamaki. Her joy. Her light. I see you’re still as smitten as ever. Shiho’s smile faded. Shiho brought two things with her when she left the hospital: the dreams, and the voices. You’re pathetic, the foul voice whispered in her head. “Shush,” Shiho hissed. Ann stirred. She pushed up off her bed, hoisting herself up onto her elbows. Shiho’s heart skipped a beat. Ann was an angel in the morning light, her flaxen hair shining like a crown. Her lips curled into a beatific, if drowsy, smile. “Good morning,” Ann purred. Hearing those words, in Ann’s smoky, early morning voice, was a lethal combination. Shiho clapped a hand over her heart as if it might physically burst out of her chest. “Good- Good morning,” Shiho said, swallowing hard. She realized she was staring. “...Ann… you look-” “Terrible. I know.” Ann nodded to the dresser. “Pass me my brush?” Shiho did so. Ann’s finger curled around hers and squeezed, for just a moment, before pulling away. “Time to tame the lion,” Ann grinned, setting to work on her tangled mess of blonde waves. Shiho found herself struck by a sudden, absurd envy- not for Ann’s hair, which was indeed lovely, but for Ann’s brush. You’re obsessed, came the whisper. “Be quiet,” Shiho exhaled. “Huh?” Ann blinked. “Nothing,” Shiho said quickly. “You stay here. I’ll get breakfast ready.” “Breakfast? Oh, Shiho- Shiho, wait-” Ann protested and followed her down the hall, her brush lodged in her hair. ~*~ “Shiho, you don’t have to-” “Shh,” Shiho shushed. She caught Ann’s shoulder as she tried to stand and pushed her back down into her seat. “Really, it’s no trouble.” “You’re my guest,” Ann pouted, her brush still hanging tangled in her hair. “You don’t have to cook for me.” Shiho smiled. It wasn’t like she was even doing much cooking- she’d reheated leftover rice and miso soup. The closest she got to cooking was holding a pair of prepackaged salmon fillets under the broiler. “You should have a traditional breakfast at least once in your life,” Shiho murmured. “Although, I looked, and I couldn’t find any natto…” “I’ll be damned if I ever keep natto in my house,” Ann grumbled. “You need to eat,” Shiho pressed, joining Ann at the table. “Real food, I mean. What were you going to do, just eat breakfast at the crepe stand?” Ann’s damning silence spoke for itself. “Ann,” Shiho scolded. “People have crepes for breakfast!” Ann said, defensive. “Not the ones filled with ice cream,” Shiho teased. They ate together, daylight streaming in through the kitchen window. They moved around each other with the comfort and ease of a pair who had done this countless times before. For now, at least, the poisonous voice in Shiho’s head saw fit to keep quiet. “Did they say when they’d be back?” Shiho asked gently. “No. It’s some work thing. Who knows how long it’ll take,” Ann shrugged, flippant, but unable to meet Shiho’s eyes. “It doesn’t bother me. It just means I have the house all to myself.” “Does it ever get… lonely?” Shiho wondered. “...Yeah,” Ann admitted. “This place is too big when it’s just me here. Too many high ceilings. Too many empty rooms.” Ann exhaled, eyes distant. Shiho silently noted the framed family portrait on the kitchen counter- Ann as a child, her hair done up in pigtails, swinging between her parents, hand in hand. She barely came up to her parents’ waists. There were other photos of Ann framed around the house- single portraits, school photos. But there were no pictures of Ann with her parents where she was any older than in grade school. “Someday, I’ll get my own place, some tiny little piece-of-shit coffin apartment,” Ann murmured. “It’ll be tiny. But it’ll feel cozy. Lived in. It’ll feel like a real home.” ~*~ Shiho did the dishes while Ann got dressed, having finally won her battle against her bedhead. “Shiho?” Ann called from the other room. “Yes?” Shiho answered. “Have you seen my running shoes?” “They’re still in your school bag,” Shiho said. “You went to get them cleaned, remember?” A shuffle. Two thumps on the floor. “Thanks!” Ann called. Shiho smiled as she wiped a soup bowl dry with a hand towel, bathed in sunlight from the open window. This was all so… normal. So soothing. Waking up to her smile. Saying good morning. Making her breakfast. Brushing her hair. All this, she had already, without any melodramatic confession. What would telling her matter now? Really, how much would change? You’re being selfish, came the voice, and for once, she found herself agreeing with it. She already had more than enough. What else could Ann give her? Chocolate on Valentine’s Day? A kiss at the door? Ann’s voice drifted to her from the doorway, and Shiho pushed away that fruitless, treacherous desire. “I’m gonna head out,” Ann said, checking the fit of her shoes. “Where to?” Shiho asked, joining her in the threshold. “I’m meeting up with Ryuji,” Ann explained. “We’re gonna do some training. Maybe get a run in.” Shiho looked down, shifting her weight on her legs. Ann’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Shiho, I’m so sorry. That was so-” “I’m okay,” Shiho said, offering a pained smile. The truth was, though she’d only been standing a few minutes to wash the dishes, they were already starting to ache. A walk was an effort. A morning run, impossible. “Tell Ryuji I said hello.” “I will,” Ann nodded. “And we’re still on for lunch at the diner in Shibuya, right?” “Of course,” Shiho nodded. “I’ll see you at the station.” Shiho offered her hands, and Ann took them. It came naturally to her; a reflex. Their eyes met, just a moment too long. “I… um.” Ann blinked, the faintest hint of red tinging her cheek. “I’ll… I’ll see you.” “Yeah,” Shiho smiled. “Take care.” Ann gave Shiho’s hands one last squeeze, and then she was out the door. Shiho exhaled, taking in the quiet that settled over the house, the spacious rooms bathed in daylight but ultimately empty. It always ends like this, whispered the voice in her head. “Be quiet,” Shiho snapped, but there was no one there to hear. ~*~ I. I’m fine on my own. (I’m nothing without you.) ~*~ When Ann told Shiho she was going to meet Ryuji for some training, well, she wasn’t lying. Not entirely. She just left out the part where she and Ryuji were going to do it in the world of the collective unconsciousness, holding the literal inner demons of some hapless Tokyoite at gunpoint. “Enough, human!” sputtered their quarry, a Robin-Hood-looking fellow dressed in green, with purple skin and a nice hat. “I yield!” “Not yet, you don’t,” Ryuji growled, a dangerous grin on his face. “Give it up!” Ann demanded. “Let’s see your cash!” “T-Take it!” The demon gasped, turning out its pockets. Crumpled bills and grimy yen coins clattered onto the pavement. Ann nodded to Ryuji. Ryuji lifted his shotgun and rested it against his shoulder. “Alright,” Ryuji said, jerking his head down the tunnel. “Get out of here. Beat it!” “Humans are such dreadful creatures…” The demon muttered, and scurried off into the dark. Ann and Ryuji shared a look, and their tough guy images shattered. They laughed, crouching down and counting up their take. For manifestations of the collective unconsciousness, their money was apparently perfectly legal tender. “Oh man,” Ryuji snickered, scooping crumpled bills into a duffel bag that Akira, once upon a time, had written ‘FUNDRAISING’ on in fat black marker. “Is it just me, or are these green guys way more loaded than the others?” “We’re getting good at this,” Ann grinned. “Wonder what that says about us.” “I’ve almost got enough to pay Akira back for that trip to the amusement park,” Ryuji grinned. “Which means after that… You, me, that fancy-ass buffet at the Wilton Hotel. What do you say?” “Will it be just like last time?” Ann smirked. “You’ll get all meat, and I’ll get all dessert?” “Hell yeah! The ol’ Steak n’ Cake!” “That… sounds delicious. It’s a date, then!” “It’s not a date,” Ryuji rolled his eyes. “I swear, you and Akira always gotta make it weird…” “You love it.” “I know.” Ryuji zipped up their “fundraising” bag and slung it over one shoulder, his shotgun propped up against the other. The darkness of Mementos sprawled out around them, an otherworldly place made in the mockery of subway tunnels, lit only by an eerie red light. He and Ann started walking along the wooden tracks, prowling for their next target- and their next payday. “So what’re you gonna spend your cut on?” Ryuji asked, strolling down the tunnel. “You know, I’m torn,” Ann shrugged, matching Ryuji’s languid pace. “Devil Hunter 5’s coming out in, what, a week? But I heard they’re also doing an HD remake of 4…” Ryuji snorted. “You already put, like, 250 hours into 4. You’re really gonna buy it again for some nice textures and extra pixels?” “Oooh, but I need to! They’re adding these bonus bosses called ‘Apex Demons’-” “250 hours, Ann! That’s, like, two weeks!” “It’s not!” “Yes it is!” “Only a week and a half…” Ann pouted, delving further into the depths. ~*~ A Shadow shrieked and disintegrated in a plume of fire. It vanished into smoke and inky darkness, leaving a nonplussed Ann standing in its wake. “Whoops,” she said, sheepish. “Aww, Ann!” Ryuji whined. “Don’t torch their cash, too…” “Sorry,” Ann smiled. “It’s alright,” Ryuji said, easing the bag slung over his shoulder. “We’ve been at it for awhile. Maybe we should think about heading back…” Their little ‘fundraising’ trip had been fruitful, indeed, leaving their pockets heavier and their hearts stronger- a little too strong, in fact. Most of the Shadows at this depth were simply fleeing at the sight of them, and those that stood their ground were obliterated before they could give up the goods. Ann didn’t mind. They’d already gathered a small fortune- by high-schooler standards, at least- and now, she was just enjoying a relaxing stroll with her best friend. Ann smiled. When did she and Ryuji get so close? They knew each other in middle school, but they weren’t particularly good friends. It just snuck up on them, after Akira transferred to Shujin in April- it just happened, a little bit of warmth that got swept up and lost in the mayhem of the past few months. One rainy day in April, they were just two of the school’s outcasts, keeping each other at arms’ length- a girl everyone thought was easy, a guy everyone knew for picking fights. Just four months ago, Ann wouldn’t have fought for him. Wouldn’t have died for him. Hell, four months ago, she wasn’t even calling him by his first name. Just look at them now. Those were really busy months. And Shiho had been gone for almost all of it. Ann stopped in her tracks, heaving a sigh. Ryuji glanced back at her over his shoulder. “...Whatcha’ thinking about?” Ryuji asked. “Shiho,” Ann said softly. “That sounds like you,” Ryuji grinned. Ann made a face. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean…” “Forget it,” Ryuji waved the thought away, but something stopped him. He caught Ann’s eyes. “...Um. Actually…” Ryuji asked, suddenly serious. “...How have things been with you and Shiho, lately?” Ann stopped. Blinked. “They’re fine…? Where did that come from?” “Nothing, it’s nothing… it’s… I dunno, something Akira said...” Ann put her hand on her hip. “What did Akira say?” “Alright, alright,” Ryuji said. “It was just, y’know, when we were leaving the amusement park a couple days ago. You were taking Shiho back to the station, and I was with Akira, and… I dunno. He just said you two looked good together, that’s all.” “Did he really say that…?” Ann murmured. She shook her head. “Wait, no! It’s- It’s not like that-” Ann saw the dubious look Ryuji was giving her. She sighed, defeated, red creeping onto her cheeks. “...It’s… a little like that. Maybe. I’m not sure. I’m still… figuring it out.” Ryuji nodded, an earnest look in his eyes. “I feel that. I think we’re in the same boat.” “Yeah?” Ann sighed. “...Look, I still haven’t told her anything- and- and you! You better not say anything, either!” “Dude, I wasn’t gonna,” Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Hey. Realtalk? I know this isn’t any of my business…” “He says, and then keeps talking,” Ann grumbled. “...but why haven’t you said anything to her?” “Because there’s nothing to say. Not yet. I don’t know,” Ann groaned. “I told you, I’m still figuring it out. Maybe I could’ve said something the day Shiho got discharged, but then she told me she was transferring out of Shujin, moving to the countryside… I don’t know, okay? She just got out of the hospital, she’s been going through a lot. It just… never seemed like the right time.” “Alright,” Ryuji shrugged. “But… you are gonna tell her, yeah?” “I will,” Ann said softly. “Once I figure out what to say.” Ryuji nodded, somber. “Don’t leave it too long.” Neither of them knew what to say after that. So, they just started walking, slowly tracing the lengthy path up out of the shadowed depths and back to the comforting light of reality. “You surprise me, sometimes,” Ann admitted, casually, as they picked their way through the tunnels. “You can be a real sweetheart.” “Careful, Ann,” Ryuji grinned. “You almost said something nice about me.” “Shut up. I’m serious. Just now, you were really… I dunno. You were being really sweet.” “You think so?” Ryuji shrugged. “Well, thanks. I guess Akira’s been rubbing off on me.” “Geez. I sure hope you’re buying him dinner, first.” “Annnnnd now it’s weird…” ~*~ They rose through the tunnels of Mementos, every surface bathed in that otherworldly red light. The trek up to the entrance was turning out to be a lot longer than they thought. Shadows shrieked and scurried away as they walked past, sparing them from having to fight, but they still had to make the long walk back. “Oh man,” Ryuji muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “This is a slog.” “‘Long is the way, and hard, that out of darkness leads up to the light’,” Ann recited, her breathing ragged. “...That’s John Milton’s Paradise Lost, y’know.” “Sounds like some stuff Makoto would read,” Ryuji groaned. “Only thing I’ve lost is feeling in my legs.” “Speaking of Makoto, we better hope she doesn’t catch us,” Ann said. “Why? Because we’re technically not supposed to be down here?” Ryuji asked. “Nah,” Ann replied. “It’d just be a shame to have to split the money three ways.” The tunnels snaked out around them, a maze of wooden railway tracks and shifting shadows, each tunnel looking just like the last. The only sense they were getting any closer to the surface, beside their own wordless intuition, was the air smelling cleaner, and the light getting brighter. “Ugh…” Ryuji groaned, starting to fall behind. “...it feels like we’ve been walking in circles…” “Don’t talk like that,” Ann glanced back at him, putting on a smile. “We’re not lost. We’re almost there. We’re… almost…” Ann froze. There was something behind them. A huge, hulking figure, robed in darkness, rattling chains… Ann heard a voice- small, stricken with terror. It took her a moment to realize it was hers. “We’ve stayed here too long,” Ann whispered, eyes wide. “Ryuji…” “What? What’s with that face?” Ryuji wondered. He turned. Swallowed. “...Oh.” The robed figure lifted a hand, pulling back the hammer on a huge, silver revolver. “So...” Ryuji swallowed hard. “...think we can take him…?” It fired, the roar of the gunshot deafeningly loud in the enclosed space. Ann yanked Ryuji behind a column. The shot tore past them, down the tunnel, trailing a vacuum wave so powerful it felt like a train was speeding past. Another roar. Another bang. Ryuji ducked, pulling Ann down. The pillar exploded right above their heads, showering them with debris. Ann winced into Ryuji’s chest as chunks of concrete bounced off Ryuji’s arm and his armored jacket, clattering like hail on a tin roof. Ann ducked out of cover, and raised a hand to her mask. “Carmen!” A geyser of flame erupted at the shadow’s feet. It passed through the flames, barely even flinching, leveling its long-barreled revolver and cocking the hammer. Ann jerked back into cover. The magicked shot went wide, striking the next pillar down and freezing it solid. Ann fell back into cover beside Ryuji. Another roar, another bang, and the frozen pillar shattered like glass. Ryuji grimaced. Just what the hell was this thing? We’re outgunned, mate, came a voice from within him. We take a broadside like that, and we’re going under! “Ryuji,” Ann said, breathless. “Carmen says it’s time to go!” “You’re telling me!” Ryuji hissed. “But if we stick our heads out there-” Another gunshot rang through the tunnel. A distant pillar exploded, covered in shivering lightning. “That!” Ryuji said. “That’ll happen!” “How are we going to get out of this…?” Ann muttered, downcast. Ryuji swallowed hard. He caught Ann’s eyes. “...Alright. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go out first, get his attention. Then you can make a break for it.” “Ryuji…” Ann said softly. She laid a hand on Ryuji’s cheek, gazing into his eyes. Then she slapped him across the face. “Don’t you ever give me a line like that,” Ann said, fire in her eyes. “We get out of this together, or not at all!” That was when they saw it- a light through the clouds, a glimmer of white in the shadowed depths. A white butterfly, flitting past. The robed figure saw it, too. It stared at the light, transfixed, lowering its guns at its sides. It turned, and followed the butterfly down the tunnel and back into the depths. Ann and Ryuji didn’t waste any time. They ran, and they didn’t stop running until they saw the light of day. They burst out onto the street, the murky darkness of Mementos melting away to the sharp clarity of the real world. Their masks and costumes vanished as they returned from the Metaverse, leaving the two of them doubled over, panting for breath, with a duffel bag full of cash and their lives remarkably intact. They flopped onto a park bench, still fighting to catch their breath. The people of Tokyo just bustled on by, oblivious. Ryuji wondered what he and Ann looked like, to them. Just two friends, on their way back from the gym. Not people who just escaped a monster by the skin of their teeth. “What the hell was that?” Ryuji muttered. “Some kind of mega-Shadow?” “I don’t know.” Ann breathed. Their eyes met. All the adrenaline flooding their systems suddenly turned into something else. Ann and Ryuji grinned at each other. Grins became snickers. Eventually they were just laughing together, overwhelmed with relief, suffused with the sheer astonishment and gratitude for just being alive, being together. “Holy shit,” Ryuji giggled like an idiot. “We could have died!” “I know!” Ann cackled. “That was awesome!” They laughed until they were spent, giggles subsiding into content sighs. They leaned into each other, Ann bumping her head affectionately against Ryuji’s, like a cat. “You slapped me,” Ryuji said, playfully indignant. “Yeah, I slapped you,” Ann said. “You were about to pull some hero shit and get yourself killed.” “Well, I’m glad you did,” Ryuji grinned, squeezing the bag on his lap. “We got out of there. We got the goods. Everything went off without a hitch!” “I wouldn’t say that.” Ann and Ryuji snapped to attention. Makoto was standing in front of the station, arms tight across her chest. Her piercing red stare was cold and hard, but nonetheless, there was the trace of a smile on her lips. “Enjoying the weather, are we?” Makoto asked. “Makoto!” Ryuji said, shoving the ‘fundraising bag’ into Ann’s arms. “Uh, lovely… day… isn’t it…?” Ann blinked down at the ill-gotten-gains cradled in her arms. “Um. Makoto. We can explain…” “Come on, you two,” Makoto smiled, but it was a dangerous smile. “Let’s take a walk.” ~*~ II. We know what we’re doing. (We’re in over our heads.) ~*~ “Shiho, I am so, so sorry…” “I understand,” Shiho said gently. “These things happen.” “Listen, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll cook for you tonight. Then we can have a nice, home-cooked meal, just the two of us. How does that sound?” “It needs to be real food, Ann, not just sweets. Are you sure you’re not just going to pick up ice cream on your way home?” “I mean, I can’t promise I won’t get ice cream…” “Ann.” “Alright, alright. Are you gonna be okay until then?” “I’ll be fine,” Shiho smiled. “I’ll see you tonight.” “Yeah. See ya!” Shiho tucked her phone away with a sigh, clasping her hands in her lap. She was sitting on a park bench near Shibuya Station, watching the crowds go by. She wondered if this was what it would be like to be a ghost, just watching the world go on without her. Nobody paid her so much as a passing glance. There was an odd sort of comfort to that. It was comfortable, being invisible. Really, only two people had ever had eyes for her. One of them was Ann. The other, well… He could rot in prison, for all she cared. The very thought of him made her head spin. Shiho shook the thought away, and let her vision settle back into place. She reached down and massaged her aching calves. The trip here had been… difficult, but it had been a labor of love. At least, until Ann flaked on her. She stood you up, came the whisper in her ear, irritable, toxic. She stranded you out here. “It’s not like that,” Shiho whispered. “Ann’s not like that.” Shiho pushed her frustration down, buried it. Ann got tied up. It wasn’t her fault. Shiho took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to let this get her down. It was a beautiful day, even if there were a few clouds speckling the horizon. She didn’t need Ann to lead her around by the hand. If she was going to be in Shibuya anyway, there was plenty she could do. She could still go to the diner, get something to eat. The gym was out, but she could still go to the arcade, maybe see a movie… Shiho frowned. The arcade would be crowded, and too noisy for her tastes. And seeing a movie without Ann wouldn’t be the same... You just can’t do anything for yourself, can you? Shiho shuddered. She ground the heel of her palm into her eyes. “Stop it,” she muttered, shaking. “Leave me alone. Just leave me alone…” ~*~ Across the city, Makoto was meeting Akira in his attic room at Cafe Leblanc. Akira watched her quietly as she opened up her binder and flipped through a sheaf of notes. Every so often, she’d pull out the mechanical pencil she had tucked behind her ear and would jot something down in her impeccable shorthand. Before Makoto joined the Phantom Thieves, they never took notes. They didn’t need to. They knew what they were good at, and they did it; Akira called the shots, Ann did the talking, Ryuji led the charge, Morgana fit into tight spaces, and Yusuke… well, he did his own thing. Ann was the beauty, Akira was the brains, Ryuji was the brawn. And then Makoto comes along, with an abundance of all three. There was a lot to admire about Makoto Niijima, Akira knew. Now here she was, in his room. It was just a shame she was here on business. “So,” Akira said, by way of conversation. “What happened to Ann and Ryuji?” “I gave them a stern talking to. Ryuji tried to placate me by bribing me with brunch, because, in his words, I ‘seemed like the brunch type’. Then, when I said that two in the afternoon was a little past brunch-time, he offered to buy me a late brunch instead.” “...Did you tell him that, at that point… it’s just lunch?” “I did,” Makoto said. “Then I treated them to crepes, because something sweet always takes the sting out of a scolding.” “I suppose you speak from experience.” “If you knew my sister, you’d know,” Makoto said. She primly pulled her binder shut and looked up at Akira, her red eyes flashing in the dim light- beautiful. Vivid. Dangerous. “But this isn’t about her, and it isn’t about them. This is about you.” Makoto pulled Akira’s duffel bag up off the floorboards and dropped it onto the table with a thud. “Or, rather, it’s about this.” “Oh!” Akira blinked, staring at the word ‘FUNDRAISING’ on the side of the bag. It was written in big block letters, in marker, and in his unmistakably messy hand. “You know, I was wondering where this bag had been. Thank you.” Makoto folded her arms across her chest. It wouldn’t be the last time Akira would be sitting across a table from a Niijima, drumming their fingers against their arm, fixed in those piercing red eyes as if he were in crosshairs. “You know the rules,” Makoto said. “You made them yourself, long before I ever joined the team. No one enters the Metaverse without backup, and especially not without Navigator support. No one goes after a target without unanimous approval.” “I don’t think anyone needs approval just to shake down nameless Shadows,” Akira said. “Anyone, or just those two?” Makoto pressed. Akira opened his mouth, then closed it again. Makoto’s expression softened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to make exceptions like this.” Akira sighed. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. If you or Yusuke ever want to go into Mementos and do some ‘fundraising’ in your free time, you’re free to do it, too.” Makoto balked at him. “That’s not what I mean! Are you even taking this seriously?” “I am!” “Oh, like when you lost 100,000 yen to some con artist in Shinjuku?” “I got that back! ...Eventually!” “Or how about earlier this week, when you spent another 20,000 yen going to the amusement park?” Akira faltered. “...Okay, yeah, that one was-” “You are the leader of this team,” Makoto said, stabbing an accusing finger into Akira’s chest. Neither of them remembered when they’d gotten to their feet. “You are responsible for them. All of them! Not just the ones who currently hold your fancy!” The intensity of Makoto’s conviction made Akira’s heart race. Having her so close, with so much fire in her eyes… it was something, alright. He was almost disappointed when she took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” Makoto exhaled. “That was a terrible thing to say.” “No, I’m sorry,” Akira said. “It must be frustrating, trying to get us organized when before, we were just making it up as we went along. And I know it must look like I’m being flippant and not taking this seriously, but I promise you, I am.” Makoto shrugged and sat down, deflated. Suddenly, this all felt so… childish. “There are rules,” she said, lamely. “Rules are fluid,” Akira went on. “Like love. Come on, if I made exceptions for everyone I had feelings for, I’d have to make exceptions for the whole team.” Makoto smiled, despite everything. “What are you saying, Akira? That all you have are relationships of convenience?” “That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Akira continued. “I’m saying it’s about trust. I trust Ryuji. I trust Ann. I trust Yusuke. I could trust you, too. If you let me. If it’s what you want.” Makoto smirked, intrigued. “...You wear so many different faces, Akira. How do I know which one to trust? How do I know which one is the truth?” “Why can’t it be all of them?” Akira asked. “Because then you’d have a heart full of secrets, and promises to keep.” “If I promise you my heart, Makoto, it won’t be a secret.” “Careful, you,” Makoto smiled. “This isn’t a social call.” “More’s the pity,” Akira said lightly. “What else do we need to discuss?” The playful mood faded, and turned somber. Makoto pulled out her phone, and tapped an icon. Her phone screen displayed the familiar black and red interface of the Metaverse Navigator. “There is one thing I wanted to ask you,” Makoto said, her voice low. “About a hit in the Metaverse.” Akira jolted upright. “How do you know about Shiho Suzui?” “Ann’s best friend? No, this is about… my…” Makoto blinked. “Wait, what about her? What’s happening to Shiho?” ~*~ III. It’s under control. (I’m losing control...) ~*~ Ann stood in line at the store, eyes clouded, lost in thought. After their misadventure with Makoto, she and Ryuji had parted ways- but not before Ryuji had shown her this little hole-in-the-wall shop, and told her not to be late for her ‘date’. Pfft. Now who’s making it weird, Ryuji? This was just a… girl thing. Ryuji wouldn’t understand. Akira wouldn’t either. Shiho was her best friend. Shiho was a girl. Girls hug other girls all the time. Girls brush each other’s hair, and have sleepovers, and share clothes, and hold hands, and… Makoto would understand. She was a girl. She’d know that it was different with girls, than with guys. She loved Shiho. And Shiho loved her- she said as much, a month ago when she and Akira helped her climb up to the roof of Shujin Academy again. Shiho hugged her and said she loved her. But that was just a matter of fact, not some… confession. Just like how she was going to cook dinner for Shiho, not because it was a date, but because Shiho made breakfast. And now she was getting her this gift to make up for getting tied up and flaking on lunch. It was only fair. That was just a girl thing. And so was this. You’re a terrible liar, Carmen said into her ear. “Hush,” Ann whispered. It was her turn in line. “Hello, dear,” the clerk said, as she picked out a ribbon and a tag for Ann’s chocolates. “Are you getting these for someone special?” Ann smiled. “Yes, thank you. I am.” ~*~ Ann ran inside just after the rain started sheeting down, kicking the door shut behind her. She groaned, trailing water all the way into the kitchen. She haphazardly threw her grocery bags into the fridge, before opening up the pantry and hiding Shiho’s gift with a bit more care. “God, Shiho, it is pouring outside…” Ann said, wringing her pigtails out into the sink. “And just when I got to the door, too! If only I’d gotten here just a little sooner…” It was quiet. Deathly quiet. Aside from the rain slopping against the walls and the roof, the house didn’t make a sound at all. “Shiho?” Ann called. She turned away from the kitchen sink, peering into the living room, up the staircase. “Shiho?” ~*~ IV. She’s just a friend. (She’s always been…) ~*~ Shiho’s afternoon passed by in an eyeblink. She went to the diner, visited the arcade, browsed the underground shopping mall, went to see a movie. She wished she could have done all this with Ann, instead of going alone. But she was never alone. The voice followed her wherever she went, whispering poison, fouling her mood. Then, as Shiho was making her way back to the train station, the voice did more than whisper. Shiho was a block away from the station when it happened. When the sun had fully set, and the sky had filled with clouds, dark and heavy with rain. A drop of red fell from the sky and stained her vision. Shiho blinked, but the stain wouldn’t go away. She watched, frozen in her tracks, as it spread across her eyes. Static spread across the screens mounted on the walls. Every brick, every tile, took on that sickly red hue… Shiho ground the heels of her palms into her eyes, but her vision didn’t settle back into place. This was a dream. This was just a bad dream, another souvenir from her stay in the hospital, alongside the pain in her legs, the whispers, the dissociation. But this didn’t feel like a dream. And it didn’t feel like her dissociation. Three months ago, you couldn’t mention the name Suguru Kamoshida without her blacking out for hours at a time. She’d catch his name on the news, glimpse a headline about the scandal at Shujin Academy, and that was enough to send her over the edge. The world would shatter into shapes and shadows and splotches of color, until her meds put her out, or Ann brought her back. This didn’t feel like that at all. This was wrong. This was very wrong. A hand closed over Shiho’s arm and she shrieked. “Watch your step, young miss!” A man said- an older man, in a suit, with a receding hairline and a polka-dotted tie. “You almost fell down the stairs!” Shiho’s vision swam. In one world, a staircase. In another, a tunnel, stained with red… Pain surged through Shiho’s limbs. She took a halting step forward. The man leaned forward, studying her eyes. “...Young miss, are you… feeling well…?” “...Let go of me…” She growled. He released her arm with a start. Shiho shuddered, and took another shaky step. The crowd parted around her, barely sparing her a passing glance. A moment later, the crowd vanished entirely, giving way to a desolate, twilit gloom. The voice came to her again, not a whisper in her ear, but rising up through the tunnels, a rumbling echo like thunder in the distance. This has gone on long enough. Now, you’re mine. “Let go of me!” Shiho screamed, as she took another unwilling step into the dark. “Let go!” ~*~ V. Everything’s fine... ~*~ Akira stood on Cafe Leblanc’s doorstep under a too-small awning, gazing out at the suddenly torrential rain. Sojiro was inside at the bar, grumbling about how the rain had to spoil a perfectly good day of business. Akira went ahead and flipped the “Open” sign over to “Closed”. If Sojiro hadn’t given up on the rest of the evening yet, he would soon. No one ever came to Leblanc when it rained, especially if it meant stepping out into this. Still, Akira stood out in it, while the awning above him valiantly attempted to keep him any less than completely soaked. He stood there, surrounded by rain and dreary gray, lost in thought. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and felt the familiar weight of his phone. He slipped it out, tapping an app icon of an eye with a star for the pupil, in black and red. “Welcome to Metaverse Navigation. Please state your query.” He raised his phone to his lips. “Shiho Suzui.” There was a chime. “One match found. Please specify your destination.” “Gymnasium,” Akira guessed. Nothing. “Hospital. Volleyball Court. ...Rooftop…?” Akira sighed. It was useless. The MetaNav detected a distortion in the Metaverse related to Shiho Suzui, but that alone wasn’t enough to go on. She might have a Shadow. She might even have a Palace. But even if she did, they still needed to know the form her Palace would take, and where the entry point would be in reality. They needed more information. Until then, they could do nothing. It was the same conclusion he and Makoto had come to that afternoon, but it still didn’t sit right with him. Was waiting really all they could do…? The rain spattered against the street and misted in the air. Akira thought he saw something- a white light, perhaps a butterfly- but it was too far away, and vanished into the fog before he could be sure. His phone buzzed in his hand. New message. Akira opened the chat and his heart sank. “Oh, no,” Akira muttered. He combed his fingers through his hair. “No, no, no…” Ann’s icon blinked urgently on his screen. ‘Has anybody seen Shiho?’ ~*~

#Persona 5 #fanfic #Shiho Suzui #Ann Takamaki #Ryuji Sakamoto #Makoto Niijima #my writing #Tailwind series #White Lies

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