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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years

Note

Scenario to get creative with: Skyquake taking Dreadwing to brothel to "get loose" a bit. ;)

So I found this buried in my asks, and I’m shook because this is actually a VERY fun idea, so let’s fucking go, let’s get carried away with this fuckin idea.

“Ah ah ah, optics closed, brother.”

Dreadwing was usually the one in charge of their creation day celebrations, but this year, Skyquake wanted to take the reigns. Dreadwing, being a bit of a pushover for his little brother, allowed him to take this one. He knew Cybertron better than he did, so he was expecting something new, something exciting, especially given his tone. Dreadwing allowed his little brother to guide him, optics offline and walking to Primus knows where. Then he finally stopped.

“Okay, open!”

Dreadwing looked around. A bit of an odd building. It didn’t have anything on the outside, apart from a glowing neon sign, depicting a fem blowing a kiss. Dreadwing raised a brow.

“Okay, you got me. What is this?”

“The one thing that makes this place a million times better than Caminus.”

Skyquake paused, clearly wanting his brother to take a moment to think. It then clicked.

“Brother! Are you telling me we’re at a BROTHEL? That’s not even legal-”

“On CAMINUS. Here in Cyberton, they’re quite popular, and this one is the best of the best.”

“Primus sake, how many of these have you seen?”

“I’m not flinging myself at any pretty fem I see, brother. I just like supporting local businesses. Besides, you’ve been so tense with work lately, you deserve just one night to relax. Come on, you trust your brother, do you not?”

Dreadwing hesitated. Skyquake had promised he was going to pay for the evening, and his intentions seemed honest. It felt rude to say no, as uncomfortable as he was. He sighed.

“Fine. Just, make this easy for me, and...be in a different room when you do your thing.”

“Because you need to see my aft when I’m giving it to a fem.”

“Brother.”

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to ease the mood. Come on, follow me.”

Skyquake pushed past the front door, and were met with mechs and fems alike, greeting them loudly. Dreadwing let his brother walk up to the counter as he looked around. There was quite a pretty bunch of mechs and fems around. Freshly waxed and painted, some in the laps of paying customers, some bringing out drinks, and quite a few giving him the optic.

“So, in short, we’re here to celebrate!”

Dreadwing just tuned in to what Skyquake was saying. He was talking to an older fem, who was quite fetching herself. Claws that looked like daggers, and optics that glistened in greed, she looked like she’d have her fair share of prey. She gave him a look over, and chuckled.

“Mmm. Handsome thing, that one is. First time in here, darling?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re from Caminus, so this is...different.”

“Ah yes, these kinds of places are a big no no there, if I recall. Anyhow, don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you both. A friend of Skyquake’s is a friend of ours, afterall.”

Skyquake shrugged as his brother gave him the side optic. While there was nothing wrong about visiting this place, Dreadwing was still kink shaming. Skyquake chuckled.

“Don’t look so nervous. They’re all quite kind, I assure you. Now, I’m paying for everything afterwards, I don’t want him to see just how much this is. He’s nosey like that.”

Dreadwing turned his helm away, a bit flustered to be caught in the act of peeking.

“I’m not nosey. I’m...observant.”

“Uh huh. Anyway, Is Maxima here tonight?”

“Yep, you’re lucky, she JUST got in. I’ll see if she’s willing to see you.”

“Maxima?”

Dreadwing found it odd that he was so specific on this particular fem. Skyquake scoffed.

“She’s just a fem. Don’t read too much into it.”

“You mentioned her by name, a bit late for that.”

The fem behind the counter chuckled, seeming to type something on her data pad, before leaning over at Dreadwing.

“Okay handsome, what do YOU like? You lookin’ for a wine and dine type, or a wham bam thank you ma’am?”

Dreadwing stammered. What a question to be asked. Skyquake snorted.

“We can’t afford taking ANYONE out tonight, so tell Cheesecake we gotta pass on that front. Just let him meet a few, see who he clicks with.”

“Can do. And Maxima just told me she’s got time to see you, so head to room one fifteen, you know where that is. Big blue, you’re with me.”

“Please don’t leave me alone. Not that you’re uh, not good company ma’am.”

Skyquake rolled his optics, patting his brother on his shoulder.

“If I didn’t trust them, we wouldn’t be here.”

Dreadwing sighed, before nodding. Skyquake left him to Primus knows where, and Dreadwing followed the fem ahead of him. She opened the door to a reasonable sized room, and the large couches signified it was meant as a sort of waiting room.

“Now, take a seat, we’ll have a few girls and boys pop in, see who you like. Once you find someone, you just come and give me a holler outside. Don’t be nervous, now.”

Dreadwing sat down, and let her leave. He was alone in this room now, and he felt tense. He had the occasional bout of intercourse, but that was SO long ago. Relationships of any sort just felt...odd to him now, as if the only other bot he could interact with, was his own brother. It was a bit sad, if he thought about it for too long. Enough so, that meeting all these mechs and fems did nothing for him. Some of the fems were pretty and sweet, some of the mechs were charming and handsome, but none of them really caught his optics. He was about ready to call it quits, when one remained.

“Hello. I’m Orion Pax.”

He was a small, cute little thing. Amongst the shiny paint jobs, fresh wax, and fish nets, he stuck out like a sore servo. Dreadwing couldn’t help but look at him up and down, perplexed.

“I’m sorry, you...work here?”

“As a part time job, yes. It’s nice to have a little extra credits to spend on the weekends. May I sit next to you?”

All the other’s did the same thing, but for some reason, this made him...nervous. He nodded however, scooting a bit to allow him to sit.

“Everyone is talking about how difficult you are to please. I take it you aren’t quite like your brother.”

“Primus I should hope not.”

That made little Orion chuckle. He pulled out a data pad from his sub space.

“You seem a bit tense. Poetry always relaxes me, personally. Would It help to read you something I wrote?”

“Please, I do love my fair share of poetry.”

The little bot cleared his vocal processor.

“Migrating answers

Beast of love discovers all

Bargain intertwined.”

“That’s...rather lovely. Did you write that?”

“Yes actually. I dabble in poetry in my free time, and more often than not, my sweetspark double checks my work.”

“Does...your sweetspark know you do this?”

“Of course. And he’s fine with it. He isn’t...around a lot, and sometimes you just need a big mech to-”

His face suddenly flared, and he hid it past his data pad.

“I..shouldn’t have said that, ignore it.”

Dreadwing chuckled, pushing the data pad down. What pretty optics, this little bot has.

“There’s...nothing really wrong with that, honestly. You like big mechs, and I like...well, you quite frankly.”

There was an odd moment of silence between them, before Dreadwing pressed his lips against his. There was no resistance, no uncomfortable tension. Dreadwing wanted him, and he clearly felt the exact same. Orion pulled away, cheeks still aflame. Even if this was just some kind of act to draw in more customers, Dreadwing didn’t care. It FELT honest, and the shy little poet angle was adorable. He was cute, innocent, and Dreadwing wanted to frag him till his processor malfunctioned. Orion clearly felt the same way, given how he lingered for a moment, before tapping his servo.

“I...have to go. Don’t forget my name.”

Dreadwing wanted to just take him here and now, but he was not the kind of mech to break etiquette, especially in new places. He waited for little Orion to walk out of the room, waited a moment, and the fem from before popped her helm in.

“So, you got your pick of the litter. Anyone-”

“Orion Pax. The small fellow.”

Realizing he sounded a bit too eager, he cleared his vocal processor. How desperate was he? Not even letting her finish her sentence. She chuckled, before motioning him to follow her once again.

“Let’s get you a room big guy. Feel like if I keep you two apart any longer, you’ll start breaking doors down.”

Dreadwing slipped past the other mechs and fems, and was brought to another room. It felt so much more intimate in here than the previous room. A nice, soft looking berth, soft music being played in the background, and the best part? A little Orion Pax. Standing there, in a rather thin looking night gown. The fem chuckled, nudging his side.

“Don’t let his size fool you. He’s sturdy.”

She slipped out, and Orion groaned in humiliation.

“I’m sorry about that, she uh, has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Are you saying you’re NOT sturdy?”

Dreadwing had no idea where that question came from. He delivered it so eagerly, it made BOTH of their faces feel flushed. Orion rubbed the back of his helm, finally putting his gaze back upon him.

“I...I mean, I wouldn’t say THAT…”

Dreadwing had no idea he’d be so easily wooed by someone so small. Orion gestured to the berth.

“Do you uh, want a massage? We usually do that to kinda ease customers into it.”

“I don’t need easing in, to be frank.”

Dreadwing had no idea what came over him. He was on Orion like some hound dog, lifting him off the floor, and practically flinging him onto berth. He pressed his lips against his, and Orion did nothing to fight it. His little servos ran across his chest, dipped in between those nooks and crannies of his armor. Dreadwing savored those touches. Savored the way he groaned into his lips, savored the way he smelled even. Orion pulled away, servos lightly caressing his face.

“You...should open your spike panel. A big mech like you needs to be taken care of.”

It might have been just sweet talk, but Primus this little one had such a way with words. Dreadwing pushed off of him, popping open his spike panel. He was almost embarrassed, how pressurized his spike was already. There was greed in his optics, and he sat up, using his little servos to grab and stroke his girth.

“Something...tells me you aren’t as innocent as I thought previously.”

Orion chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the thick, eager spike.

“I...just like big mechs. And you’re as big as they come. You deserve to feel SO good.”

Orion pushed the tip past his lips, and Dreadwing felt himself tense up. Such a little mouth, with such a wanting, skilled glossa. His glossa was small, just like the rest of him, but with the way it circled around him, the way he let the drool dribble down his base. Dreadwing couldn’t help but have his helm toss back as the little mech only took him further. This wasn’t the first time he took a spike that size, he doubted it’d be the last. After a good, solid moment of lubing up his spike, Orion pulled away. Orion laid on his back, opening both his legs, and his valve panel. He made quite the show; playing and kneading at his already soaked folds. Dreadwing couldn’t help but stroke himself, and that seemed to only egg on the little bot.

“If I can be lewd for a moment...I want you to frag me as hard as you can. I want to feel that big, throbbing spike inside of me. And YOU want my little valve.”

He was right. Dreadwing leaned forward, putting his servo over his little chest, as if he’d try to run away from him.

“When you say as hard as you can, I do hope you understand I do not take that lightly.”

“Oh trust me, I know what I’m asking for. Come on big mech. Give it to me. Use me. Fuck me.”

Such pretty words, they could be poetry in itself. Dreadwing no longer hesitated. He pushed himself past the lips, and instead of taking it slowly, Dreadwing just stuffed himself right inside, fully and totally. Orion threw his helm back, little servos clinging to his back desperately.

“Are you hurt? Should I-”

“Don’t you pull out. Don’t you dare.”

That was all the permission Dreadwing needed. He was done being nice. He started thrusting into him, his hips clanging against his own. Dreadwing wasn’t merciful; having enough force in his thrust to move the berth itself. Orion’s mouth was a tool for evil, first being used to charm him into this berth, now using it to arouse him further. The way he cried out for him, the way he cried for more, the way he screamed, as if for mercy. Dreadwing kept his face shoved into that sweet, soft neck of his, and the little one wasn’t even spared his bites. Orion’s breath was hot, husky in his audial.

“You can bite me harder, big boy. Take a bite out of me, like I know you want.”

A good, harsh bite not only made his neck bleed, but made Orion squeal in ecstasy. Dreadwing knew he wasn’t going to last very long, not with a tight valve like this, not with a mech so hungry for his touch. When Orion grabbed fist fulls of his aft (with a rather surprising grip), he was forced into an overload. He panicked, realizing he was still inside, before he pulled out. He ended up showering the little mech in his pink, hot load. The sight of the little mech bathed in the afterglow, was enough to make Dreadwing want him yet again. Orion wiped his face with his servo, and licked it off, sighing in content.

“You...REALLY needed that, didn’t you?”

“More...than I thought, honestly. I apologize, I don’t know what’s the polite thing to do from here. Am I supposed to...give you a tip, or-”

“You gave me a LOT more than a tip, big mech.”

Orion chuckled, one hand leaning down to help ease fluids out of his gaping valve. This little mech was so quick witted, so eager to pull him further into affection. Dreadwing was about to go for a second round, when there was a knock at their door.

“Time’s up you two. Everything alright?”

“Just fine! He was just saying he wants to buy more time.”

Dreadwing was about to speak against that, as he said no such thing, until Orion held onto his helm, taking a nip out of his chin. Dreadwing lightly gulped.

“I...suppose I could use more time. It IS my creation day, after all.”

“Good to hear! Go on you two, I’ll check in later!”

As the voice left, Orion chuckled.

“Now that we have just a little more time...how do you feel about letting me at YOUR valve?”

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

Dreadwing lost track of time as he walked out of that room. His brother had been waiting there for what seemed like a while, given the relief on his face.

“Primus sake, there you are! You were in there for SO long, thought someone was killing you or something.”

“I...apologize. I lost track of time.”

Skyquake chuckled, shaking his helm.

“Alright, let’s see the damage here…”

Skyquake handled the final bill for them both, and Dreadwing was too lost in his thoughts to peek over his shoulder. He did some rather...embarrassing things in there. Sure he liked it all, but he didn’t like figuring out all these secret kinks he seemed to have. No matter.

What were the odds he was going to see him again, anyway?

#asks #lemon #dreadwing #orion pax #skyquake #maxima

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heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter One): I'll let you in if you say it's okay

Notes: So, I’m taking inspiration from more than one lifepath start for my V and overall, I’m not sure how I feel about this first chapter. I’m not as confident in it as I have been in some of my other works and it’s undergone some heavy rewrites. But I’m officially sick of looking at it, so lets go. Still getting a feel for writing the cyberpunk characters too, tbh.

Word Count: 13083

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Internal Feels and struggles, (Aidan/V is very conflicted and struggling), Morning after sex

If you haven’t yet, please read the prologue: link here

Four years, a million miles, and a new alias later, not Aidan but V is standing in a motel bathroom, fresh from the shower. There’s a bruise forming on her chin from what she can’t remember. She touches up the two shaved slits in her left eyebrow, a pointless aesthetic choice given she wears a mask, she knows. But, she likes it and that’s what matters most. She pulls her bleached blonde hair back into a little ponytail, before brushing her teeth and changing.

She fastens her mask, a repurposed scav mask that she uses, not only to hide from her former family but to help her function in this world. No longer the green with red and pink faces the scavs use, it’s now black with white x-d out eyes and a wicked toothy grin. Vaguely cartoony and ominous, not her choice, but she’s far too nostalgic to ever change it.

Data and logistics flash across her vision, optic tech coming to life now that the mask is on. Finally, she puts in her hearing aids, the noise of the world coming back to her, the hum of a broken AC, the beat of a song coming from the radio, and a woman’s snoring drifting through the paper-thin walls. V pulls up her hood before she leaves the bathroom, ready to begin, her throat tight as she thinks of what the day holds.

I saw in you what life was missing

You lit a flame that consumed my hate

I'm not one for reminiscing but

I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace

The radio plays an old song from Ava’s favorite band, V knows the heavy drone of them anywhere, though she never can quite recall their name or song titles, only reminded of the days she pretended to give a shit about them in hopes it’d earn her at least a pity kiss. Why the hell the radio still plays music that old is beyond her. She turns her hearing aids volume down a little lower.

Music brought down to a hum, V’s attention turns to the bed, a woman who’s name she can’t remember is tangled in the sheets. Sun streaming through the window to shine on a bare freckled shoulder, the woman is around V’s age, maybe a year or two older with a pixie cut of dyed lilac hair. She fits in well with V’s track record of bedmates; unable or unwilling to give even half of what she got, leaving the nomad to take care of herself. But, as much as she’d appreciate an orgasm from something other than her own hand, she gets what she wants from them in the end; a glorified body pillow that helps her sleep.

“Mmm, you up?” The woman asks, stirring from under the blankets, she pushes a hand into her hair. She blinks her eyes a few times, before taking in V’s outfit, “you’re leaving already?”

V’s mask optics quickly reads lips, giving the world subtitles, essential when she wants to forgo hearing aids. The tech is far more advanced than the human eye when it comes to lip reading. The only downside is the mask requires someone to be facing her as they speak. So, the hearing aids are still necessary unless people are kind enough to accommodate her; which they never are.

“Gotta get back on the road,” V signs, a modulator translator in her mask speaks it in a monotone AI voice.

“You don’t wanna get breakfast or…?”

“No time,” V crouches down beside the bed, so she can properly meet the woman’s eyes and, “you remember what I told you, don’t you?”

“About not telling anyone what you look like or whatever…?”

“No whatever��s to it, if anyone comes around asking about me, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

“Yeah yeah, crystal clear, asshole.” The woman groans, not liking the aggressive tone V’s picked up, but it’s a serious matter. Most people get it, everyone nowadays seems to have enemies, but apparently not everyone understands. More flies with honey as they say.

“I’m sorry,” she signs, “it’s just important to me, life or death. I’ll order some room service for you before I go, sound good?”

“Hmm…I like pancakes.”

“Alright, I’ll put the order in then head out.”

“Okay…I won’t tell anyone, about you, promise.”

“I appreciate that,” V signs, putting in the room service order on the tablet provided.

Thankfully, pancakes are enough to earn the woman’s silence on the matter. The less people who have a bone to pick with her, the better. Though, she still hopes The Herd can’t follow her where she’s going anyway. Dufflebag thrown over her shoulder, V leaves the motel, stepping out into the dry heat of California. Even in the early months of 2077, the desert is burning hot, though it will be freezing by nightfall. The joys of the Badlands.

Yucca is a little nothing town south of Night City, surrounded by long agonizing stretches of desert. Not a place she’d give another thought to if not for her vehicle breaking down. The cargo in the trunk, locked up so the mechanic can’t get nosy, is meant for a client in Night City. The job came with forms and docs that’ll get her past the border.

She rolls up the metal garage door to the shop, seeing the older man in a trucker hat and flannel working over her car. The old Thorton Galena “Rattler”, bought off a Bakker nomad, who thankfully had no idea who her birth family is. It’s put together with rust, duct tape, and luck, bought for fifty eddies because it’s a walking tetanus trap; but it’s hers.

“Hey…drifter…” He greets her with a weary expression.

There’s two kinds of folks in these small towns that are scattered across the country like stars. Those who are weary of outsiders, know the dangers that lurk across the Badlands and have their guard up the moment someone they don’t know shows up. And for them, her refusal to show her face or speak with her own voice only adds to the suspicion.

And then there’s the other ones, the ones like that lilac haired girl still curled up in dusty sheets, eating shitty motel pancakes. The ones who see her, the people like her, the nomads, the drifters who travel the country and they see someone who can bring a moment of excitement to their dull little lives. The ones bored to tears with watching tumbleweeds all day and will climb in bed with V and their own preconceived notions of who she is just to have a night of excitement.

Each sees danger when they look at her, chaos in human form, someone who may just disrupt the status quo of their piss-pot of a town. An idea that terrifies or excites them. Then the realization hits that she’s just breezing through, a ghost without a trace. And for a moment they’ll be relieved or disappointed, then they’ll forget she was ever there.

“You got my car fixed?” she signs before she rolls the garage door down a foot or two shy of the ground.

“Not quite, electric coupling module is shot to shit.”

“You said it was an easy fix.”

“Guess I was wrong,” he turns to face her, arm crossed over his chest, “you could always find a new shop, find someone else who won’t question some scav lookin’ nomad why she’s hugging the border.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ scav, move,” she signs before shoving him away from her car engine, if he can’t get this thing up and running, she’ll do it her god damn self. She needs to get to Night City, yesterday, she’s already frustrated and him acting like he’s doing her a favor by staring at her engine for an hour isn’t helping.

“Got any idea what you’re doing?” Condescension drips from the mechanic’s words.

“Gonna, rig a hotwire, bypass the coupling.” She switches out some plugs, trying to find something, anything that will save her heap.

“Compressor will run on and on, could seize up.”

“Better than standing around scratching my head.”

She walks around her Rattler, pulling open the driver side door and climbing in. Please, any god listening right now, don’t fuck this up for her. V presses down the ignition and tries to rev the engine; sputters but doesn’t start.

“It’s like I was telling you,” the mechanic grumbles, so she tries again and another sputter.

“Fuck off,” she signs, wishing the tone of the AI voice would better convey her frustration as she begs her car, her baby, to start.

Come on baby, she thinks and her hands twitch to sign, her voice catching. Her desperation nearly making her verbal. Her rattler, her baby, her beautiful heap of rust and luck has carried her through three years in the Badlands. Just a little further, into the city, and V will find her a decent mechanic to give her vehicular child the treatment she deserves. She presses the ignition and revs the gas.

And that engine roars to life and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, her baby lives, she fucking lives! V can’t contain her smile, thankfully hidden behind the cover of her mask, she could scream. She’s starting the next chapter of her life with her baby by her side.

“Not too shabby, question is how long will it last you,” the mechanic rains on her parade as he shuts the hood.

“Better than whatever you were trying.”

V rolls her eyes and gets her walkie talkie radio out, hooking it to a jack in her car to try to boost a signal; she needs to let her client know she’s coming into the city, so they can prepare to pick up the cargo.

“Antennae on this heap don’t look like it packs much of a punch, doubt you’ll hear much.”

There was a broadcasting comms tower outside of the town, she saw it as she made her way in, she’ll get in and boost her signal with it. Should be fairly easy. She just wants to make it into the city, her chance at a new life. Seventeen years with The Herd, under her father’s thumb. Three years running, never able to settle down, never knowing when her family would find her when she’d be put down. Years wasted, she’s ready to live, to really live on her own fucking terms.

A flash of khaki fabric, visible through the opened gap in the garage door catches her eye and a chill runs down her spine. Trouble. Black cybernetic hands catch the bottom of the metal door and roll it up; an older man in a sheriff’s uniform with a cowboy hat comes strolling in.

“Hey, Mike, didn’t know you had a customer…” He draws out, looking over V as if she was carrying the plague.

“Just rolled in a few hours ago, I, uh, thought she would have told you.”

“Now, don’t you worry, we’re gonna hash this out,” the sheriff says, strolling over to her, he puts an arm up on her car roof, leaning against her open car door and looming over her, “Don'tcha know you owe the sheriff a word when you pay his town a visit? To tell him what brought you here, maybe even over a cup of coffee.”

“You that hard up for dates?” She signs in return, catching a muscle twitch of annoyance, and she smirks behind her mask. Five seconds in and she’s getting under his skin.

“Names Andrew Jones, you probably heard of me.”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Served in special ops in the last war, silver shoguns, ring any bells?”

“Can’t say that it does.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “don’t like to get along, do you?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He scowls at her as he shifts his weight off her door and moves to walk in front of her vehicle, looking it over. His foot raises up, dirty boot now on the grill of her car and she wishes nothing more than to just drive forward and run his dumbass over. She doesn’t have fucking time for this; her client is waiting. She doesn’t even want to be in his dumbass little town; she already fucked the only good thing here and found nothing but disappointment.

“That a nomad vehicle? I might have figured. Scav mask, nomad car; what that make you?”

“You got a problem?”

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, nothing boils my blood like a fuckin’ stray. Where your clan pitch camp?”

“No camp, no clan, just little ole me, aren’t you lucky?”

“Don’t buy it, nomads always stick with their pack.”

“Got no pack, they don’t suit me much.”

“Makes you an outcast among outcasts.” He sneers at her, looking down his nose at her, like he’s something special and she’s gum stuck on his shoe.

“Let me guess, you’re the type of guy who believes every line of shit the corps feed you, that nomads are the world’s greatest evil.”

“No, I’m a man who respects order, corps brought us that order-”

“The corps pay you and have you on a leash like a dog, you know that?”

“And you don’t wanna see me bare my fangs.”

“Try and I’ll put you down,” V’s fingers move before she can give another though, no interest in making peace with this asshole.

“You threatening me, girl?”

“No more than you are me, stay out of my way and I’ll get out of yours.”

“Big talk coming from a misfit.”

She lets out a short laugh, the sound layered with her modulator, making it louder and doubled.

“Look, I’m not scared of some shithole town’s sheriff who thinks a badge is a crown,” she signs, hands moving so quick and hurried that the sound of skin hitting skin rings out, “I want to leave your town, you want me gone, move your ass and I’ll make us both happy.”

“Get going,” he moves out from in front of her car, “I got no mind to see you drifting around these parts.”

“What part of this conversation made you think I want to?” She finishes signing before slamming her car door shut.

“What was that drifter?” His voice fades away as she guns it out of the repair shop, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

Though, maybe breaking into the communications tower is technically drifting, but she needs to radio her client. Sinclaire will need to know she’s coming into the city, so they can meet up, exchange eddies for cargo, and she can figure life out from there. She takes a road that goes north and cuts through the desert, her Rattler practically born for off roading as she takes the heavy bumps of the sand dunes and drives through cacti, pulling up to graffiti covered bumpers just outside the fenced in tower.

It's an amalgamation of latticed rusted metal with satellites on top, graffiti decorating the buildings and chunks of the tower itself. It clearly hasn’t been used or maintained in years, but it should still boost her signal. V climbs out of her vehicle, trying to open the door to the fencing. It doesn’t budge at all and she pouts, then kicks it as hard as she can. Her steel toed boot works as well as a key, making it swing open.

It’s a quick little journey, two little flights of stairs she jogs up with ease. Then it’s a ladder, the peeling yellow paint sticking to her palms. And then she’s as high as she can reach, transmitter box in view. But with the view around her, wind whipping through, she takes a moment to peel off her mask and breathe. Sun beating down and warming her face, the breeze cools her skin under it’s rays, wicking away sweat that sticks to her brow.

A deep inhale of air before she forces herself to move again, the rusted front of the transmitter box breaks at the hinges when she opens it, she pays no mind and throws it aside then jacks in her walkie-talkie radio. V leans against the tower railing, radio in hand, but not ready to let go of the quiet.

The smell of rust and paint surrounds her as she takes everything in. She’ll miss this, she realizes, the open road and the Badlands have always been her home. But it’s not safe, not really. The Herd has shown no signs of letting this go. For four years, she’s dodged her sister and Ava; the two tasked with being her trackers, repeated close calls over all this time. They’ve interrogated and demanded answers from the folks in these sleepy little towns she breezes through. The mask has helped, but every day the feeling of them nipping at her heels gets worse. Her stomach churns at the lengths they’ve gone to. V’s father wasted no time in turning her sister against her, turning Eira into a weapon to do his bidding, to put down the defected child who never should have made it past nine.

He’ll kill her for not falling in that same line, for refusing to be his soldier. Forced to choose between death or conformity, practically one in the same, she tries to seek a third option.

Night City has its own rules, laws, restrictions; a city completely controlled by corps. It’s disgusting in its own right. But The Herd isn’t allowed in the city, border control of Night City has strict orders to keep all known or identifiable members of the Raffen Shiv clan out. Corps hate Nomads, as a general rule, but they really hate The Herd. A Nomad family with no respect for anyone else’s laws, a strong anti-consumerism, anti-cyberware, and anti-corp attitude; The Herd might as well send a personal fuck you to Night City. Its not perfect, not even good, a crime infested corp run cesspool, but it’s the safest option. More security, more boundaries, more faces so V can blend in. Even if Eira and Ava make it into Night City, which she’s not naïve enough to believe impossible, they’ll have six million folks to work their way through. Nomads stay in pack because groups provide safety; a sea of city faces is just an extension of that.

But that safety comes at a cost. It means no more open spaces, no more serenity, no more campfires with burnt marshmallows, or driving down dirt roads as fast as she can with her windows down, and screaming out in excitement as she takes on every bump and turn with reckless abandon.

There’s no perfect choice, every decision carries a sacrifice, but if the cost of staying in the Badlands could mean her life, her freedom, her identity… the city is the better option… she thinks…

A pessimistic or perhaps realistic part of her can’t help but feel like he’ll get his way, her father will have her head on a pike, will slaughter his own daughter like cattle. And his power over The Herd will only grow. After all, if he’d go this far to put down his own child for an act of betrayal, how could anyone else ever think to be spared his wrath. The already loyal army of followers will be further forced into submission by fear.

Maybe this is all a waste of time, she wonders, often does. Maybe it’s just dragging out the inevitable. Hell, a part of her wonders if she’d be better off begging for mercy, if he’d offer it just to maintain control. Would she be safer if she just gave in? Is she really the kind of person who needs to be half of a whole to function, to feel safe?

But, is it wrong to want something more? To be able to look back at her life, no matter how long or short it may be, and know she lived, that she gave it all she had. That she stayed true to herself, whoever that is. To prove that she doesn’t need them, that she isn’t a burden depending on others to carry her weight. She can make something of herself in Night City, can live on her own terms, even if only until the inevitable comes knocking at her door. It will be a bit of breathing room, a chance to just be, instead of constantly looking over her shoulder.

Family was meant to be her security, her safety, but were they ever really? V shakes her head, if she goes down every thought pattern, every reason, every doubt, every feeling; she’ll be here forever.

She pulls her mask back down and radios her client after another moment of soaking in the breeze, it's odd they didn’t go through a fixer, but frankly she doesn’t care. A middleman who takes part of the cut isn’t ideal for her either. She’s looking for the past possible new start and the more eddies in her pocket, the better that’ll be.

“V?” Sinclaire speaks her alias once she gets through.

“Speaking,” she signs, as always thankful her mask spares her voice in moments like this.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Hit a snag, but I’m on my way into the city now.”

“That’s what I like to hear, once you’re through the border radio me and we’ll talk meet up.”

“The docs you sent,” she signs, thinking to the falsified passport docs he had sent out her way, “they should get me through border check.”

“Absolutely, border control barely checks ID on customs, but that little pamphlet will breeze you through.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“Don’t worry V, this is a piece of cake. You’re gonna love Night City, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah? That so?”

“Mmhmm, once we finish the trade off, I’ll show you around. There’s a place in Wellsprings with synth steak to die for, I’ll treat you.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’m heading out now.” She agrees easily, it’ll be better to have more connections in the city, people she gets along with well enough and know the place better than her.

“See ya soon.”

Her client doesn’t know her exact clan, just knows she needs papers to get into the city. There’s more than one group of Raffen Shiv that aren’t allowed in city limits; hell she’s pretty sure Wraith’s aren’t. Though, corps make special deals to let them in when they need work done. As shitty as they are, The Herd has yet to whore themselves out to that degree, one thing she can still respect about her father. She fiddles with the leather cuff bracelet around her wrist, that hides the small crown shaped brand that he placed on her skin as a child, his way of marking his blood family. She’s considered taking a knife to it, but some part of her isn’t ready to.

V’s steps are hurried as she leaves the comms tower, heavy boots stomping over metal as she makes the quick journey back to her Rattler, the red beast of a car waiting where she left it. She climbs into the vehicle and twists the vehicle around. She follows the dirt road back out to the highway, headed out to the city.

She races back through the little town, picking up as much speed as she can, wind whipping through the open windows. Yucca is a blink and its gone, V having cruises right through the nothing town and continuing down the highway. Empty stretches of desert decorated with cacti as she races down the expanse of roadway.

Then the signs warn her of border crossing, nearing the city, her heart rate picking up as she grows closer to changing her life. A border checkpoint, enclosures and offices with an overpass above the divided lanes of the highway. Each lane leads to a border control officer with holograms labeling what each lane is for based on why someone is coming into the city; whether or not they have cargo to check. She slows down, so she can pull off her mask, the less suspicious she looks the better. Border guards aren’t going to stand for being questioned by The Herd, so its minimal risk.

She switches over to the lane for customs check, pulling up to the raised blockade, beyond it another car coming through is scanned. An armed border guard not far away and she waits as the vehicle is giving the go ahead to leave; blockade coming down and guard ushering her to drive forward. V drives that little bit forward; cement yellow blockades raise before and behind her vehicle. Locking her into place makes her uncomfortable, like she can’t escape.

“Stay in the security check area,” a guard tells her over the intercom, like she would have tried to drive through the blockade without his warning. A beat i silence, a minute or two passes as the scanners run along her car.

“Would the owner of the vehicle please report for further questioning.”

V grabs the falsified passport, manifest marked LOA, and the bribe chip for good measure. She keeps her head down as she gets out of the vehicle, makes her body language small as she walks into the office building. Maintaining a non-threatening demeanor in order to ease any friction that may come her way. The door automatically opens, a waiting room of people and a desk behind bulletproof glass where a worker stands. A map of the New United States across one of the walls.

“If you’re armed, leave your weapon here.” The worker behind the desk calls out and V unholsters her revolver, allowing him to check it and put it in a drawer, “report to room two.”

She nods, feeling naked without a weapon on her hip, but she knows this is the way of things. V turns the corner, finding the door with a two marked next to it. She opens the door and a lump forms in her throat. It's a small cramped little excuse of a room, a guard already at the rinky dink desk and a chair in front of it. She takes small timid steps to the chair, discolored with either dried blood or rust, she can’t be certain. The man is dressed in a neon vest; some sort of either goggles or optic implants over his eyes that scan her over as she sits down. He wastes not a second in lighting a cigarette and her nose wrinkles as smoke billows to fill the small room. She can already feel the stench of it clinging to her clothes and wishes she could snatch it from his hand.

“Papers?” he asks.

She hands over the manifest, her falsified passport, and the credit chip without a word. Metallic implant augmented fingers put the cred chip aside to look over the little blue document, then he places the paper over the cred chip, hiding it from prying eyes that may peek into the office. Meanwhile, V tries to maintain her most innocent of expression, puppy dog eyes primed if any issue arrives. Small and adorable has few benefits in this world; but she plans to take advantage where she can. Being underestimated, assumed to be weak or docile, as much as it hurts does have perks.

“What are you transporting?”

“It’s all in there,” she signs in response, because frankly she has no idea what she’s transporting. Some corp crap.

“Hmmm, tell me, who do you ride with?”

“Bakkers,” she lies through her teeth, her car was bought off one, so it seems like an easy enough excuse.

“They stop installing personal links?” He asks, puffing out a plume of smoke, his gaze on her linkless palm.

“Religious reasons, most of the clan has them, but my mom raised us to stay ‘ganic, god given, ya know?” She signs, a practiced excuse for when she’s asked about her lack of implants. Same as the excuse laid out in the passport.

“Is that so…” he takes a deep drag off his cigarette and V bites her lip not to say anything she’s hit with another face full of smoke, “you know, times like this I’m so glad not to be on the other side of that table.”

“Feelings mutual,” she signs before she can even consider stopping, aggravated by this man’s entire existence at this point. She gave him all the documents, this should be done with by now.

“Go on now.”

She jumps at the chance to be excused, taking in a deep fresher breath of air when she’s released from the smoke box of an interrogation room. V runs a hand through her hair as she turns the corner. There’s another armored guard standing beside the desk now, his eyes doing a lazy look down of V’s frame.

“Don’t forget to collect your personal items.” The worker behind the desk tells her and she stops there, giving him a raised eyebrow before he goes to collect her gun, “be careful with that toy and welcome to Night City.”

As much as she’d like to gripe about the toy comment; as if she’s a child, she can’t help but find herself smiling at the greeting. She’s finally here, finally getting into the city. A life on her terms; a little breathing room between her and the clan. V holsters her gun, grin playing on her lips.

“Those little shits all imagine Night City to be some sort of paradise,” the armored guard comments about her, but not to her, looking over her to the worker behind the desk.

“What are you gonna do they’re all young, naïve, which is just another word for ignorant.” The worker replies and V’s grin has died, maybe that’s the case for others, but Night City is exactly what she needs. Her situation isn’t the same. She doubts those young ignorant kids they’re talking about were running from their own death.

She shakes her head, not worth the effort it’d take to respond, V leaves the building. Her Rattler a short distance away, she’s nearly bouncing as she rushes towards it, climbing into the driver’s seat. Even the overpass above her has words welcoming her to the city, she’s sure she won’t find paradise, but there...she’ll make this life her own.

There’s barely a blip of distance between her and the border check when she sees them. Black corporate vans coming towards her, her heart jolts into her throat and sweat edges along her skin.

“Fuck!” V curses out loud, border fucker tipped off the corp.

“Stop the vehicle! You are transporting corporate property!” A voice rings out from the vans and V takes a sharp turn off the road, her baby is meant for off roading after all.

“I repeat, stop the vehicle!” The corporate voice yells out again.

“Stop the vehicle,” she murmurs in a whiny voice to herself, mocking the corpo, “give us back our stuff, stop committing crimes, wah, wah, wah.”

She rolls her eyes, amused by her own bullshit as she punches in the keypad of her Rattler, starting up the automated turret attached to the roof. It’s not the most high tech system, but it has a lock on function and should get the job done. The sounds of bullets pinging off metal creates a cacophony around her as she careens through an abandoned rural area, taking sharp turns to try to shake them. V takes out her hearing aids to stop her forming headache and focus on what she’s doing. The rumble of her turret shakes the car as it fires, letting her know its still working fine. Glass break out of the back of her car, a bullet piercing through, her back sprayed with the shards. She’ll be digging a bullet out of her dashboard later, she’s sure.

A bright flash of orange, flames enveloping a van as her turret hits a gas tank the right way. One down, two to go. She keeps the pedal to the floor, speed topping out as she races away from the approaching vans. Another sharp turn and she watches as a van crashes into a wall, one last stubborn fucker.

There’s a slight tense to the vibration of her turret overhead, bullets hitting the top of it, aiming to disarm it, as she goes through another turn. A shot bursts through her side mirror, assholes, do they have any idea how much it’s going to cost her to repair this heap. More than it’s probably worth.

The vibration that shakes her car settles down over her head, turret no longer firing, but the van is still chasing her. It fucking jammed, her turret fucking jammed again, of course it did. V hauls off and punches the roof of her Rattler, right beneath where the turret is, used to this issue at this point. As always, the hard punch manages to spur it back on and it fires up again, blasting at the last van at full speed.

A bullet hits the corpo van’s front tire, knocking it off path; final one down.

“Suck my dick, Arasaka!” She screams out for no one else to hear.

She’s grinning as she finds a collection of abandoned trailers and garages, pulling into one, she’ll need to call her client, figure out a meeting place. They may want her to lay low for a bit until Arasaka calms their tits about this. But she’s in Night City, finally, what could go wrong from here. Cut out a nice living for herself, solo work or maybe something else, who knows. Get herself a place and do whatever the fuck she wants from there. She slides on her mask, puts her hearing aids back in, and rings her client.

“Sinclaire?”

“V, you make it over the border yet?”

“Yep, out just south of Pacifica according to the GPS, little run in with the corps but I shook them. When and where you wanna meet?”

“Little China, you know where the old Club Atlantis is?”

“Not remotely, but ping me the coordinates and I’ll find it.”

“Sending it to you now, think you can get there by three am?”

“Yeah, no problem, prefer to do this under cover of darkness?”

“Much prefer, see you soon, V.”

V hangs up the call and punches in the coordinates he sent, GPS map firing up to tell her where to go. She pulls out of the abandoned garage and gets herself back out on the road, driving further into the city.

She doesn’t like driving in the city. V determines about a minute into being into the actual bulk of the city. There’s neon signs and adverts everywhere she looks; most displaying someones ass or tits. She wouldn’t consider herself a prude, far from it given just how many people she’s spread her own legs for, but she does appreciate some decorum… These are sleazy, dirty…

And there’s traffic. Even at the late hour, people are on the roads, and they’re slow. So, fucking slow. Move, your asses. A motorcycle might be a good investment, she’d be able to just ride between traffic or weave through the other cars.

She manages to reach the spot before three am, though she wants to scream by the time she arrives. The building blends in easily, just another large shuttered up structure with graffiti covering its outside; symbols for the Tyger Claws, because correct spelling is a bad look for a gang, apparently.

V lets out a huff of air as she gets out of her car to wait; examining the little bloody scratches on her shoulders and arms where the glass hit her. Nothing serious, a splash of rubbing alcohol to disinfect and she’ll be fine. But there is a slight sting to the injuries that make moving her arms and shoulders uncomfortable. Corpo fucks. V leans against her car, taking in her new city.

And she shouldn’t be amazed, she knows that. The traffic drove her nuts and she’s been in landfills that smelled nicer. But despite it all, she finds herself impressed at the buildings that stretch on into the heavens. The bright lights and neon against a dark sky is gorgeous; a high vantage point and she’s sure it’d look like something out of a movie. She finds herself in awe as hope nestles its way into her chest.

Not perfect, nothing ever is, but she can work with it. She can build something here.

A sharp honk gets her attention, disrupting her moment of reverie. The street and road have been abandoned mostly; only her and the limousine coming to a stop next to her. She gives a slight wave to the driver, then forms a V with her fingers, as if they needed any more indication of who she is.

The driver is not her client, instead a big bulk of a man with gorilla arms implants, black metal for fingers, he gets out of the driver’s seat and a similarly sized man steps out of the back seat. Her client’s got muscle around him it seems, maybe he just wants to make sure she doesn’t get squirrely and try to pull something.

Both guards out, they open the backseat door close to the street and her client finally emerges. He’s not a particularly tall man, though as with most adults, he is taller than her. Sandy slicked back hair and unnaturally bright green eyes; likely optics.

“V, darling, nice to see you in the flesh, you got the goods?”

“Right here,” she signs before moving behind her car, opening the trunk so he can see the Arasaka cargo crate.

“Fantastic, load it up, boys.”

“Woah, woah,” V signs and sits on the crate before the two bodyguards can grab it, “eddies first, then you take the cargo.”

“Oh, V, honey…” His voice drips with condescension and a chill reverberates down her spine, “you did good work, only a shame you’re so naive.”

“The fuck do-”

Pain cracks through her skull, knocking V off the cargo crate and onto the ground. Another sharp thwack of pain across her head and back; something blunt striking her before she can get up. She groans out as she rolls over onto her back, looking up at the bodyguard who’s holding a baseball bat, what looks like blood staining it. Her head and back hurt; her head spinning and she’s unable to get her bearings.

“Load the cargo into the car.”

“What do you want us to do with her?” One of the guards asks Sinclaire and he looks down at her, like a cockroach.

“Eh, no one will come looking for her. Might as well throw her away with the trash,” he kicks her side, sneering when she grunts in pain, “give her another hit for good measure.”

“Got it,” the guard nods and starts to raise the baseball again, high above his head for a hard swing and she instinctively twists to give him the back of her head again.

“We’ll scrap the car, ge-”

And then the bat comes down on her, a rush of pain before consciousness slips from her grasp.

Time loses all meaning when the world is blacked out, but eventually the light filters back in and her senses return. She can feel her hearing aids still in and its reaffirmed by the sounds she hears, the faint murmur of people. The smell around her is awful, disgusting, and she can feel stuff around her. Plastic bags scratching at her skin, something wet touching her arm. Her mask shifted and she forces herself to move, she pulls it back in place, blinking.

Garbage bags, some intact and others shredded. He actually had her thrown into the trash, that son of a bitch. V pushes the trash bags off of her, city lights starting to glimmer through, neon against a black sky. She finds a metal edge of the dumpster and pulls herself up, body still aching in protest as she emerges from her would be grave. Cold air hits her bare arms, the city far colder in the early months than the Badlands. She’s in an alleyway dumpster and she hears gasps of shocks, turning to see civilians shocked to see someone climbing out of the trash. She’s be ashamed if she weren’t so furious.

V punches the side of the dumper, feeling it reverberate with the force, this was supposed to be her shot at a new life and now she’s in a god damn dumpster.

She’s going to kill Sinclaire, she’s going to fucking kill him, son of a bitchfucked her over and he’s going to pay with blood. But how the hell does she even reach him? He never gave her details of where he spends his time or let alone where he lives. Hell, she doesn’t even know where she is. She needs her car back and her luggage from it, she doesn’t even have a change of fucking clothes as it stands right now.

“What time is it? Where am I?” she signs at the civilians, still straddling the edge of the dumpster, maybe they can be some help.

“Uhhh, like 10pm? And Heywood…?”

So, he dragged her away quite a bit, so...maybe he frequents the area. Still doesn’t tell her much, she needs to find him. And she needs to find her car, but how the fuck does she accomplish that?

“Don’t suppose you have any idea where I could find Luke Sinclaire, do you?”

“Uh, no,” the stranger kind of raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the whole situation, “but uh, you could always talk to Padre. He’s the local fixer.”

Of course, she’d have to get a fixer involved, not using one is probably what got her in this mess in the first place. Sinclaire knew she had no ties to her Nomad family, new to the city, and no fixer involved. He basically had license to do whatever he wanted without fearing someone would come for him or come looking for her. V touches the back of her head, fingers coming back red, dried blood matting her hair. He meant for her to die, she’s sure, but the blunt trauma wasn’t enough to do her in.

“Where’s Padre?” she signs, she doesn’t have money to pay a fixer but maybe they can work something out. She doesn’t want to lone wolf it and end up in a dumpster again.

“He has his own parish, but he’s usually at the El Coyote Cojo right about now, might be able to catch him if you hurry.”

“El Coyote Cojo, which would be…where?”

“Bar a little north of here, you really aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Thanks for your help and stunning observational skills; I’m off.”

She pulls her hood back up over her head, hiding her bloody matted hair as she leaves the alley way and goes vaguely north. New chapter of her life, she’s injured, alone, broke, and smells like garbage.

Honestly, sounds about right for her luck. But, she’s far from given up. She navigates the Night City streets, stopping to ask a stranger where the bar is again before she finally finds it. She keeps expecting to get weird looks, like the ones that were usually sent her way in the small towns she’d visit on the road. But even with her mask, no one pays her much mind. And why would they?

V passes at least four more outrageous looking strangers along her way to the bar. People’s who’s entire body is made of gold cyberware, a woman with skin that looks like plastic, a cowboy with cybernetic arms and legs, and a girl with what looks like cat ear implants on top of her head. Things that make her stop and give a second glance, but no one here even minds. Night City has its own weirdness limit and her mask doesn’t even come close to hitting it. There's an anonymity she’s never known before and its kind of nice. Even bloody, mask on, trash covered; she’s just one face in a sea of millions.

El Coyote Cujo is a lowlit bar with traditional Mexican decorations across it and as expected in the evening, it has a fair number of patrons bustling around. People shooting pool, downing tequila, and chatting amongst themselves. And for the first time, she finds eyes landing on her. Not necessarily weirded out by her masked appearance, but more so wary of a stranger. She pays them no mind, employees here should know where Padre frequents or if he’s still here. There’s two she’s able to find right away; the bartender and a busboy. She starts with the bartender, walking herself over to a stool, he’s an older man with dark hair and a golden arm. He walks over to her once she’s sat, a smile bringing out the crows feet at the corners of his eyes.

“A new face, what can I get for you?”

“I’m actually trying to find someone,” she signs, “someone told me the local fixer, Padre, is a regular here.”

“Ah, he’s probably at his usual table upstairs, not sure he’s interested in taking on any new clients though.”

“I’ll see if we can figure something out.” She steps away from the bar and heads upstairs, its mostly vacant, making her task just a little bit easier.

Her gaze is drawn to an older man with sparsely any hair and age spots along his skin, a gold cross around his neck. A few men in tacky gold jewelry around him.

“Padre?” The AI modulator voice calls out and she sees the older man’s eyes land on her. His guards around him seem to tense, prepared for if she sends up being a threat.

“I’m not sure, I know you,” Padre comments, looking over her disheveled appearance. Being beaten and thrown in a dumpster doesn’t do much for your looks.

“You don’t, but I’m looking for a fixer, need help if you’re interested in hearing me out.”

“Come, sit.”

“Thank you, sir,” she signs before sliding into the booth seat across the table from him.

“How can I assist you, child?”

“So, a guy named Luke Sinclaire contracted me to smuggle corp cargo into the city, I go to meet up with him and he tricks me. Stole the cargo, sent my car to be scrapped, and had his gangoons drop me. I need help finding him so I can get the cargo, my car, and my dignity back. Maybe kill him too, depending on how I feel, but we’ll see.”

“You didn’t use a fixer, I take it?” He raises an eyebrow with the energy of a dad chiding a child for making a stupid mistake.

“No, I was desperate and it bit me in the ass, so I’m doing what I should have done in the first place.”

“And I’m to assume, you have no money with which to do this either?” He says, having read her like a book.

“I’m sorry to be asking favors the first time we meet and I don’t expect you to do this for nothing, of course, but I was wondering if we could work out an arrangement instead.”

“And what sort of arrangement would that be?”

“I’ll do a merc job for you, your choosing, I’ll take no cut of the profit; a completely free job in exchange for you helping me with this.”

“And how can I trust you to do this job well, I do not know you or your work.”

“Well, I’d do the job for you first, so if its crap you could not help me. I fully expect to get back what I put in, if I do quality work, you do it in return, I’m desperate here.”

“Come with me, Marcus, get the car,” he tells one of the bulky men who walks off.

Padre stands and follows behind Marcus, V follows suit as they leave down the stairs and out of the bar towards a dark little alleyway. Marcus pulls up a car and parks it for them. Once parked Marcus gets out and comes back to one of the backseat doors, Padre gets into the back on his own, Marcus opens the door for her. He silently beckons her in and she does what she’s asked, sliding onto the leather seat. Marcus shuts her door before going back around to the driver’s seat,

“Embers, pull up to the back where the ramp is,” Padre instructs Marcus of where to go.

And then the car pulls out onto the road. V fiddles with a curl of hair, fidgety and unsure of what to do, why they’re driving out away from the bar. Padre has a far away look in his eye.

“You’re new to Night City, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“And what is your name, I’m afraid I didn’t catch it earlier.”

“V.”

“V, I’ve lived in Heywood all my life, it’s roots are strong and watered by blood. Family is what pulls us through, no one is purely independent. The city is ecosystem, each individual playing a vital role that impacts those around them. The relationship between fixers and our mercenaries is an important one, not only is it mutual beneficial, but we keep each other safe. A lesson you’ve had to learn the hard way.”

“Can’t really argue with that…”

“People who-“

Padre pauses in his words looking out of the window and through it, V can see a car coming up alongside them. The car begins honking furiously at them. Nerves alight and chills slinking up her spine; she has a bad feeling about this. It has to be someone with a bone to pick with Padre.

“Shit!” Marcus curses, the first word she’s heard him say.

“Stop the car,” Padre says, with a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder.

“What’s this?” V signs, worrying speeding up her hands.

“Business, you carrying?”

“Yeah….” V checks her waistband and her revolver is gone because why did she think Sinclaire wouldn’t take her gun, “No.”

Padre blinks, surprised she’s sure, because who the fuck would be unarmed in Night City. Marcus pulls to a stop, the car once beside them pulls around to park in front of them and a man comes out. He’s dressed in what appear to be green fatigues with a bullet proof vest. As he comes close to V’s window, she sees his gold implants catching the neon lights.

“Sebastian Ibarra,” the man says in a low voice, as V’s window is rolled down by Marcus, “looks like it’s my lucky day.”

The stranger leans into the window, his left hand is carrying a gun and he casually puts it into the window. Both arms are metal in nature, but they look far from top shelf, at least from her glance.

“What do you want?” Padre asks him.

“To settle our biz, once and for all. Got an offer for you, Paddy, so listen up. Get the fuck out of Vista, pull your boys off the street! I’ll give you the Glenn, done deal. No more restless nights, see how generous I can be?”

A beat of silence and V gives a glance at Padre, he seems far from amused with the man’s bullshit.

“Well, Paddy?!”

V lurches at his impatient yell, she doesn’t need this wannabe soldier turned gangbanger fucking up her deal. Her right hand grabs the back of his neck, below the base of his skull and her left grabs the gun. She slams his head against the car roof, his forehead gushing blood at the impact, the shock and pain makes his grip loosen and allows her to steal his pistol before letting him go.

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses as he stumbles back, seeing stars and touching at his forehead. She aimed for the soft flesh just before his golden mohawked implant began, blood now steadily streaming from the wound, “you’ll fucking pay for that.”

She points his own pistol at him, cocking the gun, asking the silent question of if he intends to be shot today.

“It seems our conversation has come to a close,” Padre speaks calmly, but when she turns she can see the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Careful Padre, never know who’s got a barrel at your six,” he threatens with blood coating his face like paint, “you neither shitbucket!”

“Now, I’m armed,” V signs to Padre, as she watches the man climb back into his car, defeated for the moemnt.

“Marcus, please.”

The driver pulls out and away, getting them back on the road, as if the exchange had never happened. There’s a moment or two of silence, as V tucks her new gun into her waistband. If Padre takes her up on her offer, she may need it, plus you can generally never have enough firepower.

“Many people come through the city,” Padre speaks after a beat of silence, “little shits who’s spines go soft the moment they’re looking down the barrel of a gun. And sometimes you get the odd soul, one who can truly hold their own.”

“Who was that?” She asks, unable to help but smirk behind her mask at the compliment. That she’s one of the odd souls, different from those little shits, that she can hold her own. V is far from incompetent, even if some shitbird got the jump on her.

“No one important, he’ll be gone in a week’s time. Another will take his place.”

“The ecosystem will take him out?”

“People who don’t know their place, soon find themselves without one. He’ll pay for what he’s done. You… paid for your misdeeds, for your misstep, but you’re finding your place now and within it you may thrive.”

“You got my place in the ecosystem all figured out?”

“Here,” he hands her a screamsheet, a magazine with an animated ad for a car, high-end The Legend of Aerondight, “only four in Night City.”

“That so?” It looks slick, she guesses, though certainly not her aesthetic. Its that weird rich person sort of design where it’s oddly shaped and proportioned, perhaps to be aerodynamic. All sleek silver and black, no character to it. She’d take her Rattler over it any day.

“First belongs to the Rayfield regional direction, second belongs to mayor Rhyne, third to a rental service. And my client aims to be the fourth.”

“Klep the car and you’ll help me?”

“Yes, I have a contact who works inside the parking structure near Embers, a club the current owner likes to frequent. He’s there tonight as well. My contact will cut the security camera feed and open the security gate for you.”

“Current owner, anyone I need to worry about?”

“An Arasaka corpo,” Padre informs her, because apparently, she hasn’t fucked with Arasaka enough in the past day or so.

“So, just hotwire it or?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’s hotwired a car, but fancy ones like this usually have a more complicated security system. Usually takes more than a knife and luck, which is her usual method.

“Not quite,” Padre pulls a little gadget, a silver and black device that he hands to her, “this should work like a key for the car, matches the ones used by Rayfield tech. Should open the lock and bypass identity authorization.”

“That sounds convenient…” Too fucking convenient, she resists adding.

“Kabuki has some excellent tech workers, but I won’t lie, it is a risk. I assume one you’re willing to take?”

“Got it, I’ll get the car.”

“Marcus, pull up here,” Padre tells the driver and they come to a stop, “you can jump down below, and before you go, take this V.”

He hands her a card, marked with his name and phone number, golden in color with a sword surrounded by roses. She rubs her thumb over the embossment, glad for her first contact within the city. Connections help.

“Your number?” She points out the obvious, not sure what else to say.

“Bring the car back to El Coyote Cujo and call me when you arrive, if all goes well, I’ll have your intel by then. And, I may just call on you for work down the line.”

“Understood, I’m off then.”

“Go with God, V.”

The guardrail drags along the side of the highway but there’s a breakage where it allows her enough space to easily jump over. Peering over it leads to an alley way, a closed dumpster just below. She hops over, dropping down onto the dumpster, she intends on last night being her last trash nap, so she’s more than a little thankful for it being closed. She hears a civilian let out a little exclamation but pays no mind as she jumps down onto the pavement. A quick walk down a graffitied alleway leads her to yellow road signs cutting across an open structure. Glowing vending machines beckon her to spend ennies she doesn’t have on energy drinks and burritos, a turn past them brings her to an elevator.

Slick glinting silver encompasses her as she steps into the alleyway; impressively clean compared to the absolute grime of the city. Likely to impress any corpos who come this way to get their cars. A quick tap of a button and the doors shut, elevator rattling as it descends down to the garage.

A beat of silence and the elevator opens up to a hallway; black, gunmetal gray, and teal accents. The wall declares which sector she’s in and an arrow on the far wall tells her where to turn, as if there were anywhere else to go. The turn around the corner puts her directly in front of two large black double doors; PARKING over them in clear bold lettering.

They slide open when she gets close and open up to the large parking garage, lights coming on as she sees all the slick fancy corpo cars. Sleek blacks and eye popping reds, none with any taste for design if you ask her. But nomads and corpos have...different aesthetics.

“Eh, something I can help you with?” A male voice rings out, bringing her attention to the little station next to the blocked off exit for cars. The contact, she presumes. She comes over to his open window, the man dressed in uniform.

“Padre sent me…” she signs, keeping things vague just in case this person has no idea why she’s here.

“Gotcha,” he hits a button, “cameras are blind, you got twenty minutes.”

She nods and goes looking through the cars, it’s the glow of neon that brings her to it. A parking spot marked off in the vivid blue glowing lights, they frame the Rayfield, and spell VIP on the wall behind it.

Time to test the tech, she holds the device next to the door and presses its button, a blue light flashing. And then the Rayfield’s door opens, sliding back and up in one fluid motion, exposing the deep burgundy leather seats. Shit may actually be going right for once.

She climbs into the driver’s seat, feeling wholly out of place in the plush designed car. The seat automatically adjusts to accommodate her, no doubt shorter than the owner, and the blacked-out windshield and window turn to crystalline clear glass. All that’s left is bringing the baby back to the bar and then she can get her intel on Sinclaire.

A red caution symbol flashes in the windshield and her body tenses; a bad feeling creeping in. No, her luck can’t be running out already.

Then the door opens and there’s a gun in her face.

“Get the fuck out!” A Mexican accented voice yells out.

If there is a god, he personally hates her, there is no other explanation, and she will fist fight him for his shenanigans. She looks up at the man standing before her, barrel at her forehead. He’s leaning down against the car, not unlike how the sheriff did to intimidate her back in Yucca. However, unlike the sheriff, this guy has the build to pull it off. He’s easily over a foot taller than her and wider than most doorway, all pure muscle with dark hair in a top knot, gold cybernetics adoring his face. She puts her hands up in mock surrender for a moment.

“Nothing personal, jaina, just biz.”

V goes to gun it, to stomp her foot down on the gas, but before she can the man has the back of her hoodie and is unceremoniously ripping her out of the vehicle.

“You fuckin’ deaf, chica, fuck out of the car, now!” He’s able to manhandle and pack her around like it’s nothing, like carrying a housecat.

She grabs the hand on her hood and digs her fingernails in, swinging her foot out to kick him while her other hand goes for her gun.

Then there’s a steady rev of engines, tires squealing and growing ever closer. Confusion coloring her assailant’s face and he drops her, looking around.

“The fuck…”

He starts to say and then there’s two police cars rushing into the parking lot, skidding to stops in front of them. And its fucking overkill, if she rang 911 because she was shot, they’d maybe send an officer out in three weeks. One fucking corpo has someone break into his car and it’s the end of the universe, need a full brigade.

The headlights of the cruises are blindingly bright and she struggles to adjust; putting her hands up as police officers come out with guns at the ready. It’s a car for fucks sake.

“Don’t move!”

Her attacker carefully slides his gun across the cement, to show he’s not a threat and maybe she’d consider doing the same if she cared; but she doesn’t.

“You’re under arrest!”

“Stay where you are!”

The police continue barking orders, as if the two hadn’t piece together what was happening or what was being asked of them. They’re not stupid.

“Hands where I can see them, nice and slow!”

He can already see them, why must they go through the rigamarole. She doesn’t have time for this shit.

“On the ground motherfuckers, right now!”

V is able to watch for a second, as a female cop cuffs and pushes the big guy onto the ground. Then in the next second she’s down there too, but they don’t cuff her like they do him. The officer only holds her hands down to the pavement, maybe they think because she’s smaller they don’t need the cuffs, at least not yet.

“Jackie Welles, my old pal from the hood,” a voice rings out, “See you haven’t grown an ounce wiser.”

“Hey,” big guy, apparently Jackie, responds and she shifts her head against the pavement to see him being held down in addition to the cuffs, “argh, Detective Stints, been a while, huh?”

“Inspector Stints,” the man responds now stepping out where he can be seen in front of the bright lights, he picks up the gun Jackie put down.

“Same shit,” Jackie says with a laugh.

“But you, you’re new,” Stints comments as he walks over and crouches down in front of her, looking over her face.

He waits, anticipating her to say something, but she talks with her hands and they’re currently pinned behind her back. And sure she possesses the technical ability to speak, her vocal chords do function. But she doesn’t, unless she’s alone or highly emotional. She used to talk to her mom, sister, and Ava…but those days are gone.

“Spit it out? Cat got your tongue?” Stints taunts and she still remains silent.

“Think her voicebox might be broken, Stints,” Jackie comments, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Pfft, probably just another piece of Heywood trash, another termite who’ll live and die here. Just like you Welles.”

“Fuck off, just tell us what you got planned,” Jackie grumbles.

“Gonna be booked, gonna do a stint, heh, get it?” He says with a grin.

“C’mon Stints, cut us a break, huh? You lock us up, we’ll just jerk off till trial and then what?”

She has no intention on jerking off anywhere, but alright.

“Worst case,” Jackie continues, “we get a few months, standing room only nowadays. In el bote. Hell, we’ll probably be out early.”

“These the thieves? Ordinary street trash,” a heavily accented voice comments, a Japanese man in a shimmery golden colored vest comes walking over.

“Shit, he’s here,” Inspector Stints groans before standing, “got them in custody Mr. Fujioka. We’ll be taking them, now.”

“It’s a waste of effort, I have no time to testify or play at an investigation.”

“Suggesting we let ‘em go, sir?”

“I’m suggesting you throw them in the sea; cuffed, legs broken, so this trash doesn’t float.”

And with that the man starts to walk away, making his way back to the club, she’s sure, continuing his night of debauchery as if he hadn’t ordered the murder of two strangers just because he could, because he didn’t have time for a trial. And god, she knows she probably has no room to judge anyone else’s morals, but just fuck corpos.

“You heard him,” the inspector says, because corpo cash pays his salary, she’s sure.

“Fuuuuck….” Jackie curses as they start to drag him up on his feet by the cuffed hands and she her own arms are wrenched back and cuffed.

V gets her feet back under her, moving with the pull as they manhandle her off the ground, she kicks back at the officer behind her. Her foot connects with their calf, causing them grunt out in pain as they’re knocked off balance loosing their grip on her wrists. She jumps as high as she can and brings her cuffed hands under her feet to her front.

Jackie follows suit, kicking the officer off of him, but with his size it knocks them flat on their ass. He shoulder checks another pig as V makes a dive for the Rayfield, it’s door still open amongst this chaos. She lands herself in the drivers seat and hits the ignition.

“Stop resisting!” Officers yell, fingers on the trigger, and no, that’s not happening.

“Wait up, chica!” Jackie yells out and she hits the button to open the passenger side door; he’s an asshole, but she’s not leaving him to be thrown in the fucking ocean.

He throws himself down in the passenger side and she guns it, doors shutting on each side as she takes the turn out the parking exit. She watches from the corner of her eye as Jackie, who’s barely able to fit in the bougie car, brings his cuffed hands down as low as he can. He grunts and curses, not quite as flexible as she is. With effort and twisting, he’s able to get the chain of the cuffs under his foot and then he stomps down while yanking his hands up. The little chain doesn’t stand a chance, breaking into pieces and pinging about the interior as it does so.

“Much better,” Jackie comments, looking at his wrists which now just have the manacles of the cuffs.

She rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back on the road and she expects to see sirens chasing after them, but it never happens. Are the cops not chasing them? They should be chasing them? Is she not getting in her second high speed chase since coming here?

“Honestly,” Jackie starts to talk again, he talks a lot, “I was just gonna let Stints free us, but I like the way you think, this way we get the Rayfield too.”

“What?” She takes a hand off the wheel to sign.

“Oh shit, you’re actually….my bad…” He awkwardly apologizes for asking if she was deaf earlier because, yes, yes she is.

“What do you mean, free us?”

“Stints is a softie as far as pigs go, got Heywood in his blood, would never throw us in the fuckin’ ocean cause some corpo said. And, you can slow down, he won’t chase us, chica.”

“Oh…okay,” she signs, pulling up to a curb, something else to take care of.

“We stopping here?”

“You are,” she signs before pulling her gun out and pointing it at him, signing with her other hand, “get out of the car.”

“Really, chica?” He rolls his eyes, like he didn’t pull this shit on her five minutes ago.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I knew Stints was a softie, I got a job to finish, get out.”

“A fixer line this up for you?”

“Yeah…”

“Padre?”

“Yeah…are you gonna get out of the car or…?”

“Listen, I was gonna klep the car and then find a fixer to sell it for me, but if you already got Padre involved, we’ll go halfsies.”

“You pointed a gun at me!”

“You’re pointing a gun at me, right now!”

“You did it first!”

And he laughs and she does too, because they sound like children bickering over who pushed who on the playground. Its dumb and ridiculous and why does she like him? His smile is warm and kind, something about him, welcoming. She drops the gun, tucking it back in her waistband. She press her hand under her mask, trying to suppress her giggles. The tension that’s been clinging to her has snapped. Her body feels lighter, like she can breathe a bit better. She closes the passenger side door, he may be chill, or she’s just easily charmed. But, she’s still going to fuck with him, just a little.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go halfsies.”

“See, now you’re making sense,” he grins as they pull out back onto the road, “Jackie Welles.”

“V…it’s…nice to meet you? I think?”

“Heh, not from around here, right?”

“Nah, but, from the sounds of it you’re a local.”

“Heywood in my veins, chica, where we meeting Padre?”

“El Coyote Cujo.”

“Of course.”

“You know the place?”

“I’ve heard of it,” he says, grinning wide, a joke she’s clearly not in on, “Ah, I got a good feeling about this.”

“About what?”

“Us, you and me got chemistry.”

“Do we now?”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you feel it too, heard that laugh.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she teases as she pulls into the El Coyote Cujo parking lot, pulling the slick corpo car into a spot, “got a phone on you?”

“You don’t?”

“I literally have lost everything I own, alright? Call Padre and put it on speaker.”

“Fine, fine,” Jackie gets out his phone and calls Padre, phone in one hand and the other stretched across the back of the seats.

“Jackie? To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Here with your newest find, V, we got the Rayfield.”

“You helped her out?”

“Well…”

“He pointed a gun at me and nearly had me thrown in the ocean.”

“Seems like I have a car and a story waiting on me, I’ll be there shortly.”

A pain aches in V’s head, migraine spreading across her temple as Jackie hangs up. She rolls the car window down, allowing the chill of the winter night seep in, hoping the fresh air will ease her pain. V wants a shower, there’s still blood in her hair and she’s sure she still smells like trash. Though, no one’s been cruel enough to point it out. But, she has no idea where she could grab a shower. Why the fuck does her head hurt so much? The pain a steady throb across her entire head. She pinches the bridge of her nose, it didn’t even ache this much when she first came too in the dumpster.

“You alright V?”

“Head hurts,” she signs, before turning off her hearing aids, hoping that shutting out the city sounds will help.

“When’s the last time you ate, chica?” Jackie says, making sure to stay in her eye line as he leans over the middle console, though his biceps nearly touch her even when he isn’t. Her mask reading his lips to give him subtitles. .

When was the last time she ate? She didn’t eat all day because she was in a dumpster passed out. The day before was the smuggle run and she didn’t eat before she left Yucca.

“Two days ago.”

“Fuckin’ for real, no wonder your head’s wonky, once we finish the deal we’ll get some grub.”

“What made you think that was why?”

“Ah, my mama gets those migraines when she stops eating from stress, Vik and me keep telling her to take care of herself, but she’s too busy taking care of everyone else.”

“You and your mom close?” V can’t help but ask, thinking about her own mother for a moment.

“Oh yeah, family’s important, gotta have people you can turn to out here.”

“Yeah…”

“What-”

Headlights shine in through the back glass of the Rayfield, bring their attention to Padre pulling into the parking lot. His arrival ending whatever question Jackie was about to ask, which may be for the best. She’s not ready to answer questions about family. Not when her head is throbbing, she’s filthy, and her stomach is empty. Padre’s driver comes to a stop and they see Padre gets out of the back. V turns her hearing aids back on, knowing it will make the conversation flow easier as her and Jackie get out of the Rayfield. Her arms collecting goosebumps from the air.

“Jackie, it’s nice to see you again, how have you been?” He greets Jackie warmly

“Ehhh, can’t complain, same old same old, making new friends,” he says with a grin, nodding his head towards V.

“Never can have too many of those. It’s always nice to chat once business is done.”

One of Padre’s bodyguards has already climbed into the driver’s seat of the Rayfield. Enging revving up and then fading off into the night as he leaves. Officially finishing up their business.

“Uh,” Jackie raises an eyebrow, “you getting senile on me, Padre, this is usually the part where eddies change hands.”

V’s smirking and trying not to laugh behind her mask. Padre gives a look at V’s direction and she looks down at the ground, pursing her lips so she doesn’t laugh.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“Ah,” Jackie nods, like he gets it, “no worries, V agreed to go halfsie with me on the Rayfield gig.”

“Halfsies?” Padre raises an eyebrow, smiling at V, he seems to find her joke at least a little funny. V can’t help the giggle that spills out.

“Am I missing the joke here?”

“Well, I’m afraid, this was an unpaid job for V here.”

“What?” Jackie shoots her a sharp look, disbelief coloring his expression.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she taunts.

“Fuck you!”

She bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as she cackles behind her mask, the sound echoing strangely through it. But, she can’t stop.

“You stole a million eddie car for free!? The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“No, no,” she furiously signs, “I needed info.”

“Speaking of which, I have your intel here,” Padre says, handing her a shard.

“Give me a moment, my lungs hurt.”

“I’m glad you're entertained, that info better make you a billionaire.”

“Nah, personal shit,” she collects herself, “thanks, Padre, it means a lot.”

“You’re a good kid, make him pay, V.”

“Oh, I will,” V confirms, slotting the shard into a little opening on her mask, info displaying across it.

The name of a chopshop that rumors say had a nomad vehicle come in, her Rattler no doubt. Sinclaire’s address and regular hang outs, exactly what she needs. Hopefully, he hasn’t had time to sell the cargo yet. If so, she’ll axe him and klep all his shit.

“What happened?” Jackie asks.

“Well,” she signs, before taking the shard out, “Sinclaire contracted me to transport some cargo, no fixer, so he fucked me over the second he got a chance. Bashed me over the head, threw me in a dumpster, scrapped all my shit, and took off with the cargo.”

“So, that’s what that smell is?”

“I will throw you,” she threatens, but she’s rolling her eyes and smiling.

“I’d love to see you try, chica.”

“The chop shop won’t be open until morning and it’s late. It’s up to you, but I’d recommend resting for the night.”

“Yeah…” She signs, but she can’t help the slight pout. She has no money, no clothes, no food, no shelter. She’ll be sleeping on a bench or something tonight, not much rest.

“You did good work V,” Padre pats her shoulder as he leaves,” I’m sure I’ll have more jobs for you in the future, paying ones, of course.”

“Thanks again, Padre.”

She rubs a hand down her face, migraine still thumping around in her head. Between not eating and having her hearing aids in all day, her head feels on the verge of exploding.

“So, what’s the plan, jaina?”

“My plan, why do you wanna know my plan?”

“Because, you and I both know you’re up shit creek without a paddle here, V. No home, no family, no one to turn to. Night City ain’t a place that will let you get by on your own. Need people you can turn to, if you wanna survive.”

“And what, you wanna be my friend?” She raises an eyebrow, taken aback by just how kind and friendly he’s really been.

“Told you already, we got chemistry,” he grins again and it makes her smile, “be a crying shame to waste it.”

“Okay, friend, what do we do now?”

“You like chili?

“As a concept, sure.”

“Settled then, get you a hot meal, change of clothes, a shower ‘cause you fuckin’ need it, and crash with me tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“And tomorrow, we teach that pendejo a lesson, sound good?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They’re all grins and smiles as they leave the parking lot, knocking shoulders together as they go, walking side by side down the neon lit streets. And she can feel it returning, that little buzz of hope she had in her chest when she first came here, the one she thought was beaten out of her by Sinclaire’s goons, it’s back and brighter than ever. Though not half as bright as Jackie’s smile as they turn a corner towards his mother’s house.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #c2077 #female v #fem v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #can you feel the sun

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404-not-found-xix · 3 years

Note

I've been thinking about Tyrell visiting the Allsafe offices in S1... just imagine if he had asked Elliot out to lunch or something :)

Spring mornings, skipping work to chat, and teasing banter? My kind of afternoon Alex.

*****

Safety had been Tyrell’s first priority at Evil Corp. As their Senior Vice President of Technology, it was imperative that their data remained tightly locked.

After the Colby incident, it was imperative that he helped the company save face. They couldn’t put on a weak front amidst the controversy- instead, confidence. The rest of the board was far too old and had better use as speaking bobbleheads in front of a camera. They had built the company to what it was but they were dinosaurs of a bygone era. Wellick was far more suited for the position and he knew it.

He patted down his tie, slicking out of the elevator, and strolled into Allsafe. He had a meeting with Gideon Goddard to talk about their next steps in securing Evil Corp’s data.

It was a short meeting. It could have been held through a video chat, but with something as important as this- he chose otherwise. And, anyway, it wasn’t his true reason for coming here.

“Elliot-” He smiled with a formal nod, almost beaming as he stopped by the tech’s desk.

He turned from his work slowly, reluctant to stop crunching numbers and writing his next line of code. He had been assigned to Tyrell’s case.

“Good morning sir,” His eyes flicked up, pen in hand.

He reached out and they shook hands, “Please, you don’t have to be so formal with me. Call me Tyrell,”

“Mmm,” He nodded, looking him over. “You came for a meeting with Gideon, right? To talk about the temperature control in Steel Mountain and our suggestion to regulate it by adding an analog component. In the case of an outside attack, it would involve someone physically collecting each protected key before making any changes. They would need to know the location of the designated space before potentially jacking up the heat in your data room and accentually frying them to shit. It would be unrecoverable.”

“Yes, well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted your opinion on the matter- off the record. Are you hungry?”

He glanced at his desktop, mulling it over. “Are you buying?”

“Of course,”

Elliot saved his data before powering down. Grabbing his jacket and slipping it on. “Alright, I’m ready.”

___

[Music playing at the restaurant]

The two took Tyrell’s car. His bodyguard drove them to lunch, a French restaurant. A place where you could sit outside under a large pergola with blooming vines wrapped around Earth. Small wire tables with freshly made lattes, a plate of macrons, and flowers in an elegant glass vase.

It took Elliot by surprise, but he didn’t mind. The place was beautiful and extravagant in an understated way. It felt at peace at its own existence, windchimes glittering in the breeze.

“I thought since it was such a beautiful day, you would like this. I like coming here for their pastries, they’re divine,” He smiled, pouring a cup of refreshing cucumber water for them both.

Elliot shifted in his seat, unzipping his hoodie in the Spring weather. Even popped a button at his color, fixing his hair. “It’s nice, it’s really quite beautiful,” He pulled his teacup to his lips, drinking the smooth hot liquid.

The two made their orders and chatted about work. It was easy to flow like this. Elliot felt confident about coding and security measures, easy technical conversation for his skill. He was brilliant and he knew it. He felt it.

“So... enough shop talk, what does a guy like you do for fun?”

“Umm..” He set down his tea, rubbing his forehead with a wicked smirk, “For fun? Shit...” His tongue slicked across his lips, “Taking my dog Flipper for a walk. She prefers going to the park.”

“Mmm.”

“There’s also movies, I’m a big movie buff. I grew up on Star Trek and Back to the Future- I’ve probably seen that one a million times,” He nodded. “There’s a long tradition of my sister and I watching The Careful Massacre of the Bourgeoisie every Halloween. We didn’t do it for a couple of years, but I really enjoy that,” He chuckled, smiling, as he thought back. “It’s special, ya know?”

“That’s tender,” Slowly, his heart was melting. Watching Elliot relax and exhale his stuffy work persona was heartwarming. There was more to him than meets the eye.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Care to share?”

He reached into his coat pocket and thumbed for the squares. He fitted one between Tyrell’s lips- chalking it up to the sweet tea and romantic atmosphere. “Come here,” He spoke in a low tone, flicking the lighter between them. They softly leaned forward, catching the ends of their cigarettes together under the heat of the warm flame. The ends danced, grazing each other under the intimacy of the light and shared body heat. There’s always a reason to linger... Eyes catching the other, blue eyes glinting together.

Tyrell flushed beat red, snatching the end from his lips and playing with it between his fingers. He sat back, exhaling a long drag, eyes sharp and witty, “You’re a tease, Alderson.”

He snapped the lighter shut.

Those lips parted, teeth holding his in place. “Oh, what do you mean sir?” Coyly.

“What businessman takes his lackey out for lunch, probing for personal information on an afternoon like this?” He gestured to the sky, “I know what you’re doing,” A stream flowed from his painted lips.

“Ah,” He flicked his stick, “I thought I was being subtle.”

“Nothing you do is subtle,” He played with his end, watching the other. “I like it.”

#writing ask #mr. robot #elliot alderson #tyrell wellick #tyler writes #:)

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strings-have-been-cut · 3 years

Note

✩

The Ultimate Relationship Tag // accepting

See under the cut for the Regverse;;

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Reg

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Data has physically attempted to leave on a few occasions in the middle of a disagreement, but only if he needs time to process or he believes he is putting Reg in danger.

Who trashes the house? Neither

Do either of them get physical? Nope

How often do they argue/disagree? Not very often at all. The few times it has happened, Data got too anxious almost immediately and could not hold his own argument.

Who is the first to apologise? Data - he usually apologizes right away and during the argument.

Sex:

Who is on top? Usually Reg, although they switch.

Who is on the bottom? Is this a trick question? Usually Data...although they switch.

Who has the strangest desires? Reg has a backlog of fantasies that he thinks about...and several that seem to pop up randomly in different situations. He's very creative.

Any kinks? Data enjoys being tied up.

Who’s dominant in bed? Reg

Is head ever in the equation? Yes, often.

If so, who is better at performing it? They're both enthusiastic, but Data has the advantage of not needing to breathe and not being able to choke, so...

Ever had sex in public? Yep

Who moans the most? Reg

Who leaves the most marks? If Data was human, Reg would have likely torn him to pieces by now.

Who screams the loudest? Reg.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Data, but it's not a positive.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Mmm...both. Both is good.

Rough or soft? It usually starts soft and ends rough. Or starts rough and ends rougher.

How long do they usually last? Not long, but Data can go forever, and Reg has a surprising amount of stamina.

Is protection used? Nope.

Does it ever get boring? Nope.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? The maintenance closet on the Enterprise? Or the beach.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? Yes, two. Rhea and Nikael.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Data brings up having a baby at the worst possible times every few years.

Who is the favorite parent? Reg.

Who is the authoritative parent? Data...unless it's Nik and he does that Look.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Data

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Reg - he lives on that stuff himself.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both!

Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Both!

Who changes the diapers? Data, but Reg will if he needs to

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Data, but Reg gets anxious if they cry, so he usually gets up anyway.

Who spends the most time with the children? They spend the same amount of time, most likely.

Who packs their lunch boxes? Data - he plans and packs them ahead of time.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Both, but they need a lot of support from Deanna. In the Nemesis verse, Reg does it by himself.

Who cleans up after the kids? Data cleans constantly. Nik cleans up after himself starting at age two.

Who worries the most? Reg

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Reg

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both, but Reg is a master at it

Who is the little spoon? Data

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Reg

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Reg

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? F o r e v e r

Who gives the most kisses? Reg

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Probably cuddling. Or bathing together.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Bed. Or the bathtub.

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Reg

How often do they get time to themselves? Fairly often before Nik is born and then not as much.

Sleeping:

Who snores? If both do, who snores the loudest? Reg, and it's adorable

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? No matter how big the bed is, Reg is glued to Data, usually sprawled out on top of him.

Who talks in their sleep? Reg, and Data did not know what sleeptalking was the first few times. Alarming.

What do they wear to bed? Usually pajamas, at Reg's request, but sometimes nothing. Data prefers nothing - he does not see the point of PJs.

Are either of your muses insomniacs? Reg is not a good sleeper, and sometimes Data will sing him to sleep or drag him to bed and insist he try.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Sometimes a hypo is needed, but Data prefer to simply bombard him with comfort.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? They tangle all up in a complicated manner, usually pressed all up.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Reg

Who wakes up first? Usually Data wakes with his internal chronometer and then spends a ridiculous amount of time trying to wake Reg up.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Data for Reg

What is their favourite sleeping position? This one, with Data on the bottom is Reg's. This is Data's.

Who hogs the sheets? Reg

Do they set an alarm each night? Data has an internal clock that is never ever wrong. He is the alarm.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? There's a viewscreen. Sometimes they watch movies.

Who has nightmares? Reg, more often.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Data

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Reg

Who makes the bed? Data

What time is bedtime? No set time, but they don't stay up tremendously late.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Once Rhea is activated, there is the 'bedtime' procedure. Bath, brush teeth, put on PJs, read story, sleep. She grows out of it quickly, but Nik continues this long after Reg and Data stop doing it with him.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? REG BARCLAY

Work:

Who is the busiest? They are both very busy, but Reg is more chaotic and involved in dealing with it.

Who rakes in the highest income? Starfleet, baby.

Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope

Who takes the most sick days? Reg - Data doesn't get sick, but he tries to take off to take care of him when he is sick.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Reg has a tremendous amount of trouble getting out of bed in the morning...and then getting out of the shower.

Who sucks up to their boss? Data...and probably Reg too.

What are their jobs? They both work on the Enterprise - Data is second officer and Communications officer and Reg is a Systems Analyst. Reg later transfers to work for Starfleet Communications on the Pathfinder Project and then a professor of Engineering at Starfleet Academy. Data becomes a professor of Cybernetics at the Academy after transferring from the Enterprise.

Who stresses the most? Reg

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? They enjoy them for the most part! Although they leave the Enterprise because there's just too much...trauma.

Are your muses financially stable? Starfleet, baby!

Home:

Who does the washing? Data

Who takes out the trash? Data

Who does the ironing? Data

Who does the cooking? Reg if there's real food, but the replicator usually.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? DATA

Who is messier? Reg

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Reg

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Reg

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Reg is the only one who uses the toilet...

Who is the prankster around the house? Reg

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? If they had a car, probably Reg

Who mows the lawn? If they had a lawn, probably Data

Who answers the telephone? Either Reg would make Data do it

Who does the vacuuming? Data

Who does the groceries? Both?

Who takes the longest to shower? Reg will never leave if he doesn't have a reason to

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Reg has more of a reason to be in there

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Nope

How many cars do they own? Zero

Do they own their home or do they rent? Provided by Starfleet

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? On Earth, Coast. AU on the colony, countryside.

Do they live in the city or in the country? On Earth, city - San Francisco. AU on the colony, country.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Depending on the point in the timeline, sure yes.

What’s their song? Their first Valentine's Day, Data sang 'Can't Keep My Eyes Off You' to Reg. He associates that song with him.

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Call each other. Data tries to keep busy with things so he does not worry or get too lonely. So many horrible, strange things have happened that he likes it better when they are together. The few weeks (or years depending on verse) when Data is on the Enterprise and Reg is on Earth are hell.

Where did they first meet? They worked together on the Enterprise. Data was second officer when Reg transferred from the Zhukov.

How did they first meet? Data often haunted Engineering because of his friendship with Geordi and his love of the work. He would often comment on things Reg was doing, as he did with most people on the ship, if they interested him. He also found Reg was the only one who was interested in his love of cats.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Data - he likes to buy presents

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Reg, probably. It is not often Data trips. Data would just be concerned for his safety.

Any mental issues? They both have anxiety and difficulty managing their emotions.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither

Who kills the spiders around the house? Either

Their favourite place? In the house? The bath. In the universe? The bath. Although Risa was nice.

Who pays the bills? Neither

Do they have any fears for their future? They both fret over the fact that Data will not age and die naturally and Reg will. There are several conversations about Reg growing older.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Data surprising Reg. He loves making a fancy date night at home.

Who uses up all of the hot water? Reg

Who’s the tallest? Reg

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both. It is rare they ever shower alone before the kids are around.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Data

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Reg

What do they tease each other about? Reg teases Data about how absolutely clean and neat everything has to be, and Data teases Reg about how messy he is.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? They both have horrible fashion sense. Data wore exclusively uniforms before Reg taught him what 'comfortable' clothing was, and now they wear horrible geometric sweaters that they share.

Do they have mutual friends? Most of their friends are mutual friends.

Who crushed first? Data

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nope

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Reg has once or twice by accident. They both hated that.

Who swears the most? Reg on occasion and it turns Data on so fast

#reg barclay #headcanon #about data #ltbroccoli

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m4tsuk4ze · 3 years

Text

Naoyuta and why I can't stop thinking about it

Naoyuta ( Naoyuu / Yuunao ) is the ship between Naoya Kido and Yuta Matsukaze. Now this post will just be me ranting about Naoyuta and why people in the community should talk about it more.

[ Quick warning : I AM Yuta so I will be referring to myself in the first person during this whole post. Also, if you reply, please do not mention anything about Kosu/Yuu because I can literally explain how that's never going to happen and why I'm so uncomfortable about it ]

Part 1 : A Pair of Nerds

I ( Yuta ) am a surfer from Shōnan who was born and raised at my parent's surfing shop. Naoya is a surfer from Oita. Through dialogue, it's revealed that I've known Naoya longer than he's known me. Our first meeting was either at the cafe where he got Miruru merch from [ WAVE!! 4-koma ], where he met both me and Kosuke twice, but never had a proper conversation, we only told him that he can have our coasters and cards. Or at my surf shop, where Naoya came in to check out a necklace he saw [ Yuta Matsukaze - Analysis During Shop Duty ].

Our feelings towards each other are unknown, as the full relationship chart only says "?". Meanwhile, the character relationship charts have our opinions on each other. Though, from the mmm relationship chart, me and Naoya are shown to be confused with each other, "Miruru...?" "Megane character...?".

Part 2 : Next to each other.

As the 5th and 6th characters in the roster, me and Naoya are constantly paired together in promotional works and songs. Though, that's not as important as our actual relationship to each other.

We don't get to see much in the anime, though there have been a lot of interactions outside of it that shows that we're not as far apart as we seem.

From the [ WAVE!! 4-koma ], it's shown that me and Naoya has spent a couple of days together. In one comic, I was spending my whole day with him to figure out how he's so amazing at surfing. We ended up only watching anime, which made my notes fill up with data about Miruru. That databook was then given to Naoya. Something interesting is how the narrator said "There was no data collected, but the distance between their hearts did shorten."

On the game story [ Yuta Matsukaze - Analysis During Shop Duty ], I said a line that could be interpreted as falling in love or gaining interest, "At first, I was just supposed to guard the store. But before I knew it, I was..." In the same story, I also told Naoya that I've been watching him for over a year ( to which he called me a stalker, but that's fair i guess ), though it was Naoya telling me that he didn't mind me talking so much.

Naoya, meanwhile, doesn't give us much. He's said I was different on multiple occasions, on the character relationship charts ( which we will get to later ) and in the story [ Naoya Kido - The Secret of the Notebook ], where he said "…… Hinaoka-senshu is not ready yet. But Matsukaze-senshu is different." when it came to names for techniques. Naoya has also became really enthusiastic when I told him that I would probably move to Tokyo after high school [ WAVE!! 4-koma ]. We also got a close up shot of Naoya being worried for me during my heat with Fuke----

Also, a friend of mine theorised that the promotional SURFDAYS illustrations, the ways we're holding our surfboards are the way we'll hold our significant others...... So in terms of being next to each other,,,

Part 3 : Annoying?!

Now on to those character relationship charts.

On my relationship chart :

Y -> N : "He gets really excited when we're in Tokyo"

N -> Y : "I'd rather watch the latest Miruru episode than listen to your data."

On Naoya's relationship chart :

Y -> N : "His Miruru fan-ness gets annoying."

N -> Y : "He's a little different from the megane characters I know."

So yes, not that positive.... Though, despite me finding his love for Miruru a little annoying, it doesn't stop me from looking out for him. On the game event story [ Chocolate Securing Plan ], Nalu reveals that I've been telling him about Naoya. Nalu said that I told him not to touch the truth about Miruru, or basically, not to reality check him. This came up when Sho almost told Naoya about how fictional characters can't make real life chocolate.

Part 4 : Trivia and Hints

Me alerting Bill as to why Naoya isn't going to participate in the Forest Cup [ WAVE!! 4-koma ]

Me being the first to try and help Naoya after seeing him sad because the anime isn't going to stream in his city [ WAVE!! 4-koma ]

Me saying that I need Naoya in Shōnan after finding out how Naoya could actually make Kosuke take a break [ WAVE!! 4-koma ]

Me falling more into interest with Naoya after finding out how he is towards 2D and 3D girls [ Naoya Kido - 2D and 3D ]

Me itching to talk to him after seeing him at the beach [ Naoya Kido - The Secret of the Notebook ]

Me being the most worried when mine and Masaki's plan to give Naoya Miruru Dried Sweet Potatoes failed [ Naoya's Birthday Post 2020 ]

Naoya saying he doesn't mind that I talk a lot and that I'm just enthusiastic [ Yuta Matsukaze - Analysis During Store Duty ]

Naoya actually laughing and blushing at whatever the fuck I'm showing him [ WAVE!! Surfing Yappe!! Vol.2 DVD Cover ]

Part 5 : Yuta's Thoughts

Yeah so far it seems somewhat one-sided. I've shown a lot of interest towards Naoya in multiple different stories. Though there's much on him towards me. It's not something I mind though. In the stories, Naoya has shown to be kind towards me, though sometimes sarcastic and straightforward. He's a really interesting person and I'm glad that I could figure him out piece by piece. In the end, we still feel very far apart.

Yet, despite our distance and somewhat distaste for each other, we also have a lot of similarities. First of all, we're both described as nerds. But we also have shown to be the most perceptive out of the whole group, other similarities is that we can't seem to fucking shut up about our interests, and we also treasure our friends very much.

Part 6 : Final Thoughts

Anyways Naoyuta is a great ship, fuck you nerd x nerd is superior I don't want to hear anyone say shit about it. Also pink and green literally amazing, the colour palette is just spectacular, I cannot shut up about it.

This is dedicated to the first showing of Shonan the WAVE!! which will be streamed on the LOVE&ART official YouTube channel featuring both mine and Naoya's seiyuus, Yusuke Shirai and Shunichi Toki, on Friday 21st of May at 21:00 JST

Manifesting a Naoyuta drama but who knows.

Also WAVE!! Wonderful Party has a clip,,, It might be from a drama featuring the both of us or it could be something else. If it's the former then WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID I FUCKING MOAN AFTER NAOYA SAID SOMETHING ABOUT LAUNCHING SOMETHING [ CONTEXT PLEASE ]

Anyways have a great day, this was Yuta Matsukaze ranting about his own relationship and being gay as fuck so I hope you enjoyed reading it.

To leave off this post, I'll be sharing some art. And that's it, thank you for reading, goodbye for now!

- m4tsuk4ze || Yūta

Part 7 : Naoyuta so true

#wave surfing yappe #wave project #wave naminori boys #naminori boys #yuta matsukaze #matsukaze yuta #naoya kido #kido naoya #naoyuta #me in the gay

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electric-friend · 4 years

Text

Some fic recs in my various fandoms! I hope you enjoy.

Hannibal

Viridescence (Or, the Life Cycle of a Native Man)

by novamare

- Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

- 7 Chapters

In the bayou just outside 1919 New Orleans, Will Graham is grieving the death of his father and learning, far too quickly, that he must give up the isolation he has known his entire life in order to survive. On a trip into New Orleans to purchase chicory for his coffee, Will learns about the Axeman, a serial killer terrorizing the city, and meets Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a wealthy foreigner with an alligator smile. Against his better judgement, he allows the foreigner back to his cabin in the bayou. What should terrify Will instead excites him, and, as a dangerous romance buds between them, Will learns that taking a life is much easier than letting one go.

There’s something about the delightful imagery that makes this particular fic quite special.

Detroit: Become Human

Aporia

by NHMoonshadow

- Connor/Simon

- 16 Chapters

When he spoke, his voice was precise and steady as stone. "I can't lose him now, Markus. I've felt it before, but I didn't understand then, I didn't know. I can't lose him. I won't." Markus was officially scared now, especially when the younger prototype didn't offer up anything else. "Connor. Connor. Who is 'he'?" The last thing Markus expected was for Connor to look at him, eyes earnest and wet, and say "Simon”.

Fascinating. I liked the unique relationship.

Star Trek

Vacation

by Eve Robinson

- Gen (mostly)

- 1 Chapter

When Picard discovers how much accrued leave Data has accumulated, he is required to take a holiday. But what, exactly, is 'a good time', and how will he know if he's having one?

Comedic, well-characterised and pleasant condensed read.

39 Times and Counting

by ItWasIDio - Data/Geordi LaForge - 1 Chapter

Making out while on duty is often ill-advised.

Real talk, this is one of my favourite pairings, especially for fluff and comedy: it's so sweet, and I like this fic, too. Pleasant characterisation and the perfect amount of humour.

Captain America

What Ever Happened to Fay Wray?

by debwalsh - Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers (shunkyclunks) - 13 Chapters

When Dr. Bucky Barnes reaches out to Captain America to autograph some old film posters to help raise money to restore an old movie theatre in Brooklyn, Steve jumps at the chance to reconnect with his own personal history. Steve didn’t expect the film history professor to be so attractive, or the theatre to be so changed. He admits that when he was young, he would sneak into the theatre through a secret route - a route that is still there and apparently hadn’t been discovered and renovated, a route with secrets of its own. As Steve introduces Bucky to the forgotten history of the theater and they work together to restore the movie palace to its former glory, they discover they have more in common than just a love of theater. And maybe a few surprises along the way, too.

This fic is long, but very interesting and quite lovely.

Poppies of the Field

by kaasknot

- Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

- 13 Chapters

"Thank you for purchasing a StarkTech Companion 'Bot! Please state your name for licensing." Wherein Bucky is a severely agoraphobic combat veteran, and Steve is the android he buys out of loneliness.

Now, I definitely have a soft spot for androids. This fic really draws you in with the delightful characterisations. Definitely one of my favourites, especially given that I don't usually take to AUs!

James Bond (Craig Films)

Ordinary Numbers

by BootsnBlossoms, Kryparia

- James Bond/Q

- 12 Chapters

More than anything, Mike Taylor wanted to be ordinary. Being a genius, he learned early in life, meant people expected too much. A career at the MI6 Help Desk seemed the perfect way to guarantee a lifetime of obscurity, until he got a very unusual tech support call.

These (two?) authors have written lots of works in this fandom, and in particular their collaborations are quite good. This one especially. But here's a filter search for the rest of them anyway!

Merlin

Plight & Providence

by spocksnipples

- Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

- 2 Chapters

The sun, burning low in the morning sky, backlights the guy’s head of blonde, framing his hair with a halo of glowing gold. God have mercy, groans Merlin’s sleep deprived brain, a prince come to sweep me into his arms and carry me out of this hole of study I’ve dug myself into. “Mmm,” murmurs the guy, staring lovingly at his yellow-wrapped food. “Beesechurger.” -- Merlin is on scholarship and Arthur is a post-graduation mess

Written by a good friend of mine, with encouragement. Started as a crackfic, ended up with a distinct world and nice prose! Well done to my pal, spocksnipples.

BBC Dracula

Blood Of My Blood

by blood_stained_fingers

- Dracula/Jonathan Harker

- 1 Chapter

“I think he’s made you his friend.” What if the Count had made Jonathan his friend? The Count has an appetite for science, and what harm can a little experiment do? An AU and a retelling of Jonathan's stay at Castle Dracula.

This appealed to my inner creep.

BBC Sherlock

I'm not really in this fandom anymore, but there was this one work I wanted to rec:

Gone Is My Past

by cyerus

- Gen

- 1 Chapter

John is an army bomb detection dog who has been turned into a human. Angst. No, really, angst.

I really wanted to list this fic because it's so unusual. It's very good, and despite the unusual concept, it's a powerfully poignant and genuinely emotional story (if you can manage to take it seriously).

Greystoke (1984)

Two Poor Men Whom Fate Forsook

by epkitty

- Phillippe D'Arnot/John "Tarzan" Clayton

- 1 Chapter

For a short time, Phillippe takes what he wants.

This is a short fic, and quite peculiar. Granted it's in maybe one of the smallest fandoms on earth, but there's just something about it.

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mauserfrau · 4 years

Text

Eyeshine, Part 3 - Bordertober

Oof, lil late.

Parts 1 & 2 Here

Features the end of the mysterious recording previously featured, as well as more claustrophobia, and more Tyreen acting up.

He tried the jump to Pandora again. Tyreen snarled. Like she knew that he’d repeated himself long before the silent confirmation lit up the screen.

She said nothing and her silence came off in his veins. Troy could feel his whole body tetchy and waiting for her to slam in, fill his awareness. She didn’t though. She pushed off from the navigation console and she dived up to the ceiling, balancing along a seam on her fingertip. Her hair spread like crinoid tendrils as she bobbed back and forth and back and forth.

In a fit of movement, she’d turned herself over, hanging on another line.

Troy watched all of this in the console coating. He turned to tell her something. He didn’t exactly know what.

Tyreen lunged away. He heard her swear, but the sudden cycler sounds covered her words. She braced herself upside-down in the shadows of the cages

Again, he watched her through the coating.

Troy had never consciously realized how feral his sister behaved sometimes. It dawned on him now in a simple sort of way.

She had always been-- his sister. His playmate. That voice up ahead of him on the trail. The qualities of her company hadn’t mattered.

But soon, other people would know her. Would they realize? Would the truth come to them that much sooner than it had to him where sometimes when he slept he swore he could still feel her sharing their blood at his side?

Troy shook his head.

“What?” demanded Tyreen.

So she was watching him back.

“Figuring,” he said.

He’d been trying so hard to think of something other than where they’d found themselves. He’d tried until it hurt and now his thoughts were those of a tired boy, not, well, whatever he was.

His attention moved over the virgule on his wrist. He placed his hand on the side of the console, stranding fingerprints behind. Then he slid himself underneath.

One thing at a time. He’d check the control wires. Her eyes would skim the back of his neck.

He’d think about circuits and pretend.

It was one thing to walk in the footsteps of a toothy, little hunter like his sister.

Then it was another to be alone on a shuttle retrofitted with a subspace jump drive meant for products from another company. With someone who saw with phantom teeth.

The console wiring checked out. Troy pried up the floor panel and inspected the crystalline fibers connecting to the internal parts of the jump drive. Sometimes the things shattered. He’d brought some refurbished lines in case that happened, using the newest ones for their first attempts. The data flow checked out as normal from both the mini interface on the jump drive and all three ports he tried on the console. He could start most of the diagnostics on the drive from the shuttle controls he found. Some of the more granular checks would only start locally. “Gravitational field detected. Failsafe test in five… four…” and then a shuddering click at zero that gave him a pleased emoji.

The internal parts of the drive further reported no issues with the external portion.

Troy sighed. He pulled his legs out of the equipment well. His left hip popped. A dull burn started in his thigh muscles. He’d been sitting for too long with the gravity on. And now that the adrenaline was fading out, he was left with plain stress substances that were going to swell into more pain. Plus, he really wanted to wash his face.

But Tyreen sat with her back to the water closet door. Soon, she’d head in. She’d been moving in a circuit through the cabin: water cycler, grinding to herself, water closet, dozing, back to the cycler until she was dribbling down the front of her shirt.

“So hey,” Troy said.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I need your Coeus. It’s got the manual for the jump drive.”

“What good’s the manual gonna do!” Tyreen snapped. “It says ‘unknown error’. There’s no ‘unknown error’ in the index. What the hell sense would that make anyway?”

“You looked?”

Tyreen lunged. She yanked the Coeus out of its cradle and flung it at him.

Troy scrambled to catch it, landing facedown on the dirty floor.

Snickers flowed from her and the suppers she’d disturbed with all the sudden movements.

His elbow ached too. Troy laid the Coeus down in front of him and tried to straighten out his back. He drummed his fingers until the twinges had died down. “I know that’s all you’ve got to do.” He did his best to lead her to maybe lending him a hand. This was kind of a one-person job, but it might keep her mind occupied to hand him tools and read him pages. She read pretty good. He almost hoped.

Instead, Tyreen went to the cages. She grabbed a hexling by the neck, spilling sand on its cage mates and then grabbing the vacuum, which got everything screaming.

Some of those were maybe his food too. Well, after he tried at least a few more things.

Like slapping the Coeus on his knee until the screen worked again.

The way he saw it, Troy had possible problems.

He’d botched the internal installation. The jump drive wasn’t like any of the surviving equipment from Dad’s ship proper. Sod’s law: Anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment. He was a pretty big whatever.

They’d botched the external installation somehow. It was supposed to be simple: affix a box someplace that no other equipment would interfere. They’d placed that box half a foot beneath the viewscreen camera. The two might have started chattering to one another. In that case, they had no equipment to spacewalk; no way to move the two apart.

The external portion had broken during the jump. That was appreciably the worst case. They had a chance of reaching somewhere with a misplaced external unit. A broken one and this, the shuttle, was everything they had left; that and the great unknown of problems he could not predict, swells of existences no one had ever pulled out of the emptiness, breakages he could not see, somethings behind his perception which that, that he wished he hadn’t thought of with the animals acting up given Tyreen stirring restless on the bed again.

He decided it was an installation issue. He could fix that. Even if he had to take the whole jump drive out and put it back in.

That ran the risk of damage. But they might already be drowning in damage.

Might be. Could be. Sworn to things he couldn’t see.

The only thing driving him crazier seemed to sneer at him from the shuttle’s directories.

Once again, Troy took the headphones out. He pretended this time that he jacked them into the Coeus, even though the Coeus had no sound output.

He took a deep breath and he listened.

“Well, if this isn’t some sweet doll over here. Yeah, that’s a good girl. Let me see those eyes shine. I love it when you act all shy.”

Troy closed his hand on his knee and pressed his hand down as hard as he could.

He went headfirst into the kiss, knowing it was there this time. He hadn’t even heard the whole thing the first time. His face got so hot.

“You know what else is different, Doll? You. Yeah, they don’t have girls like you on Pandora. It’s kinda, what’s the word, rustic out there at the edge of everything that is and, you know.”

“I know I spent the whole party looking for you and now here I am, telling you the truth. It’s so crazy.”

“Truth’s always crazy. Didn’t you know? But so what about that. We’re both gonna get something we want. I’m never going back to Pandora, mmm,” Dad smacked his lips in that thinking way he did sometimes. He did so in spite of his company. “Shot my way out of this monster’s asshole once. Did I tell you that one already?”

“You can tell me again.”

“And again. But no. Nevvver going back to Pandora. And you want, hmm, I think I know what you want.”

“I want to see the stars.”

There was static. Rustling clothes. A transmission beep. And then nothing. The recording ended.

Troy watched a handful of other bright spots topple off of the side of the viewscreen. He wondered if this, however this ended, meant he’d had his fill of stars.

#Bordertober #border-tober #borderlands 3 #Tyreen Calypso #Tyreen being Tyreen #Troy Calypso #troy calypso pov #Typhon DeLeon #claustrophobia #technical babble #BTW this is the halfway point #there are eighteen scenes in this thing #late because of super secret project #what is said project #wait then it wouldn't be a secret

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // 3

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, a TLWH easter egg

WC: 7k

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Shawn Mendes & Bex Spotted Canoodling in Toronto -- The Sun

Did Shawn Mendes Take Bex Home To Meet The Parents?! -- JustJared

Fallin’ All in Bex! Shawn Mendes and Bex Hit His Hometown For A Romantic Weekend -- TMZ

Penny steps back from her magnifying mirror, mashing her mauve lips together after a good blot and decides she’s ready. She smoothes her manicured fingers down the front of her ice blue Vince slip dress and reaches for the handle of her suitcase, packed with one of her favorite clients in mind, who has a fondness for vibration.

As she turns, she’s stopped in the doorway of her bathroom by an enormous German shepherd, sitting patiently, watching her like a little girl studying her mother putting on makeup. Penny scrunches her face affectionately and squats a little, cupping the dog’s big soft head in her hands.

“My baby Pammy,” she coos, leaving the dog with a kiss on the nose that makes her sniffle and sneeze, “I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. Maybe we’ll go up to Wildwood Canyon for a hike.”

At the word ‘hike,’ Pamela’s head tilts dramatically. Penny laughs and heads for her front door.

Gus is standing on her porch with his arms folded behind his back, admiring her view. When he hears her front door open, he turns with a soft smile.

“Hello there.”

Penny rises on her toes even in her strappy sandals to reach his cheek for a kiss.

“You look lovely as ever. We’re heading to the Roosevelt tonight. Can I take your case?”

Always the same routine. Gus greets her, compliments her, tells her where her date is (though she already knows) and offers to take her luggage. His professionalism is somehow comforting. Penny nods and passes over the suitcase, allowing him to open her door in the back of his Tesla (the agency used to have a small fleet of towncars but went electric last year for the environment).

The car is cool and sleek and silent. Instead of the music some of the agency women prefer to play on the way to a date, Gus and Penny talk. He catches her up on his week, tells her that his daughter Jamie is trying out for freshman soccer and they’ve been running drills in their backyard in Pasadena. His partner Ty is running another marathon, which Gus shakes his head at. Wasn’t one enough?

Penny craves the normalcy she gets a peek at in Gus’s world. Her life is beautiful -- glamorous and exciting and full of color, but Gus has a family to come home to every night that loves him and misses him when he’s away.

She gazes out at the rippling lights of West Hollywood as they zip past. She makes a choice every day to pursue a life she’s not ready to share with someone else. The truth is, her job fulfills her so much more than dating ever has. When she started working as an escort, she still tried to date. No one was ever worth leaving her work behind for. No one was worth giving up the satisfaction of helping, of relieving, of healing. She resigned not to stop working until she met that person, if they ever came along.

Gus leaves the car in the back lot, taking her case with a wink and a smile.

Penny waits.

The room is cool. The doors to the balcony are open. Penny makes a mental note to shut them for privacy later. They may be in one of the penthouse suites, but this client is extra concerned about discretion and pays a premium for Penny’s sealed lips.

The delicious thrill of an evening with a client crawls up Penny’s smooth back. She reaches out and cups a pair of full hips facing the quiet night. She uses her lips to brush away the soft red hair at the nape of a neck.

“Hello, Julia.”

The woman in her arms reacts, relaxing palpably, sighing and closing her electric green eyes.

“Where the fuck have you been in the last sixteen days?”

Her voice is teasing. Penny grins against her freckled skin, nipping to feel Julia’s perky ass grind back against her hips.

“You were the one who’s been in Moscow shaking hands and playing nice with the big boys,” Penny reminds her, stepping closer and sweeping her hands up Julia’s stomach, teasing the undersides of her breasts beneath her silk blouse.

Julia comes down another notch, her shoulders dropping as she slowly gives in to Penny’s touch. She sighs again, louder, reaching for the wall to steady herself.

“Wish I could fold you up in my pocket and take you with me.”

“Mmm, you haven’t taken me on a business trip in a while,” Penny hums, remembering Rio de Janeiro in January fondly. She slips her fingers over the generous swell of Julia’s breasts, digging her nails in slightly to get her coming all the way undone.

Julia rolls her head back against Penny’s shoulder, blinking slowly. “That’s because you fucked me so hard with the strap-on I looked like an idiot meeting the Brazilian president. I couldn’t… walk.”

Penny drops a hand back down, gliding past her Prada trousers and into what Penny is sure is La Perla lingerie to press her fingers against Julia’s wet cunt. Julia gasps and grinds down into Penny’s touch.

“Worth it, though, right, princess?”

Julia whines, loud and breathy. Penny knows the sound well. Julia Granger, Fortune 500 CEO and one of the richest, most powerful women in the world, is willing, desperate putty in Penny’s hands.

“So worth it,” Julia replies, her voice an octave higher than her soft mumbling moments ago. Penny smiles, rewarding her with a rough roll of her fingers. Julia squirms and stares at her.

“Is that what you want tonight? You wanna fuck my pussy with your pretty cock?”

Adrenaline flares hot and heavy through Penny’s entire body. She drops her head back and closes her eyes, reveling.

“Maybe if you’re the good girl I know you can be.”

Julia coos, rolling her hips between Penny and her hand. “Gonna be a good girl for you. So fucking good, Penny. The best.”

Penny’s free hand cups the back of Julia’s professionally blown out hair and drags her in. She tastes like red wine and woman. Penny groans appreciatively, loving the way Julia softens and waits to follow Penny’s lead, never taking more than she’s given, totally willing to offer her considerable power. Drunk on it already, Penny bites hard on Julia’s lower lip, swallowing the sweet, silky moan.

Penny pulls away smiling, pecking the skin she just abused, eyeing the open balcony doors.

“Let’s close these before I get you screaming for me.”

Penny scurries on tiptoes toward her VPI HW-40 turntable, a lavish gift from a client, to turn down the silky crooning of Patti Page. In her free hand, she hits the “Accept Call” button on her phone.

“Hello, stranger.”

“Ciao, bella. How are things?”

Penny looks over the warm, angular face of her brother Peter and pads back to her loveseat. She settles in, sweatpants and hoodie on in full post-date hibernation mood.

“Things are good. I’m recovering from last night.”

Peter smirks and leans back against the blank white wall behind his dorm bed. “Who was it?”

“Julia.”

Peter cocks his head and grins. “I loooove Julia.”

Penny barks a vibrant laugh. “She’s your style icon.”

“She is,” Peter admits freely, widening his eyes to show his sincerity, “She was photographed in this vintage Chanel suit last month in Page Six, I think it was from the 60s, and I swear to god--”

“Pete, you know I usually pay more attention to what’s under the suit,” Penny interrupts dryly, lifting a brow.

Peter pauses and rolls his eyes. “Then you found the perfect profession.”

“I really did, didn’t I?” she teases, wrinkling her nose, “So, how’s school?”

Peter grunts and slouches down into his twin XL, picking at his Target-purchased jersey sheets. “‘S fine. I’m taking on an extra project in my Mathematical Economic Modeling class. Gets me more face time with that professor with the Apple connections, Dietrich. And the TA is gorgeous.”

Penny’s smirk is alarmingly similar to Peter’s. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She gestures to herself.

Peter snorts. “You’re not my tree.”

“I’m as good as. How is that tree of ours, anyway? Have you talked to them?”

“They’re fine. I talked to dad and Kris on Thursday. They’re going to Miami for fall break so they asked if I could stay with mom and Frank. I told them I was flying out to visit you instead.”

Penny pauses her fiddling with the cushions on her sofa and looks at him through the phone. “Are you?”

“Ugh, don’t look so horrified. I’m going to Sasha’s. Her family lives in Delaware and they have a boat.”

“First of all, I’m not horrified, I would just need to move some shit around in my calendar. Second, why don’t you just tell them that?”

“Oh my god, I’m not gonna, like, cramp your hooker style. Just leave me on a beach I’d be fiiiiiine,” Peter whines. Penny narrows her eyes.

“I don’t live anywhere near the beach and your ass still can’t drive. Why do you care if they know you’re at Sasha’s?”

“Oh my god, I know, my useless gay ass really needs a license, what the fuck,” Peter laments.

“HEY!” Penny yelps for his attention, “Why does it matter if you’re in Delaware?”

Peter grunts and rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t. I just don’t need them knowing shit about me, you know?”

Penny’s lips fasten. She nods. She can’t argue with that, it’s the same approach she took with their parents while she was growing up with them in the suburbs of northern Jersey. She didn’t have a shitty childhood or anything. In fact once her parents got divorced and quickly remarried wildly different people, things ran much smoother. But the family isn’t close. Her parents were very preoccupied with their own lives and never paid much attention to Penny or Peter. So they made their own family. And in that family, the less others outside it know about them, the better.

Penny feels an overwhelming urge to hug her little brother, the super genius, the boy who got into MIT at 16 to study Computer Science, Economics and Data Science. Their parents barely noticed, but Penny did. She pays his tuition bills and housing to remind him financially of how much she cares. She tries to remind him in other ways, too, like this, their (usually) weekly FaceTime date.

“Well, you’ll be out here for Thanksgiving, right? We’re gonna order Chinese and get high in Big Bear?”

Penny sounds laughably eager. She doesn’t mind. Peter deserves her eagerness and her care-giving instincts. He always has.

Peter smiles, hugging a stuffed hippogryff pillow into his narrow chest. “Course. Better you than the stepmonsters.”

Penny rolls her tired eyes. “I’m flattered. Email me your holiday schedule this week so I can buy your flight, ok?”

Peter nods and watches his sister yawn and collapse back into her pillows.

“Julia wore you the fuck out,” he laughs.

“She did. I’ve had a few very long nights over the last couple weeks, actually. And doing all the end of month stuff for Silver.”

“Silver, OMG, my mom.”

Penny continues, ignoring Peter’s extremely gen Z interruption, “And before that I was with Victor in the Caribbean.”

“Has Julia been hogging you since then?”

Penny glances at the record player, shrugging. “New client, actually.”

“Ooh, we love. Anyone I know?”

Penny doesn’t have to tell Peter to keep a secret. She also knows better than to play coy for too long. She tells him everything.

“Shawn Mendes.”

Peter’s eyes go wide. His jaw drops. He makes a squeaking noise and falls dramatically into his pillows. “Dead. Bitch, I’m dead. What the fuck?!? Are you… oh my GOD!”

Penny’s familiar with the reaction. She got almost the same one when she had a few dates with Timothee Chalamet last spring. This one is even more… Peter.

“Truly, this is the highlight of my life and it’s not even mine. What a moment. Can we just pause and take this in? Oh my god. You’re… oh my god. How many times have you seen him?”

“Twice.”

“Oh sweet god. Tell me everything, holy fuck.”

“I’m not going to tell you everything. I never tell you everything,” Penny reminds him.

She’s been open about her profession with her brother since he was 14 (with the maturity of an 18-year-old) but long ago decided he didn’t need to know all the details of her escapades. Some things have to remain just hers.

Peter whines loudly. “But this is different! He’s… god, an Adonis. The best looking man on the planet. Seriously, he has no business looking like that.”

Penny nods solemnly. She doesn’t disagree.

Peter’s lips purse. His eyes narrow. “But you like him, right?”

“I do. He’s very nice. And… he’s a very good boy.”

Peter lifts a cushion to his face and screams while Penny laughs, curling into a comfy ball on her couch.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mendes?”

Shawn blinks. His stomach drops into his shoes and his fingers tighten around his phone. “Uh… yeah? Hi.”

“Hello, this is Colette. May I have your verbal password for security purposes?”

Shawn presses a hand into the hair he forgot he was doing up and frowns. La Splendeur has never called him before. He has to give his verbal password when he calls the service, but he’s a little thrown off at being the one getting a call. He clears his throat.

“Um, it’s “Ireland.””

Shawn wasn’t prepared to have to create a password when they first asked him for one so he spit out the first word he thought of, and Niall was the one who gave him their number, so…

“Yes, thank you. Mr. Mendes, I’m calling regarding your appointment tonight with Penny.”

He has the sudden urge to throw his phone on the bed and punch a pillow, throw a little temper tantrum. She’s cancelling. He can feel it. He’s been in Toronto sexless and desperate for 10 days thinking about seeing her again, feeling her again, making her come again. And now she’s ditching him.

“Yes?” he croaks miserably.

“There’s been a change of venue. Penny and her driver will meet you at the Bel Air Bay Club in the Pacific Palisades. We have texted you the address. Penny apologizes for the last minute change in plan and hopes you’re still able to join her.”

The roller coaster he seems to be on brings him back up to a peak. He grins and nods until he remembers Colette can’t see him through the phone.

“Yes! Yeah, no problem. 8:00 still?”

“Yes, 8:00. Thank you, Mr. Mendes. Enjoy your evening.”

Shawn is about five minutes from the turn off to the Bel Air Bay Club when the radio station he has on to block out the static in his head starts playing the Lost in Japan remix. He flinches and hits the off button on the stereo, looking around at the red light like he’s worried people stopped around him might think he’s listening to his own music. Truthfully, he doesn’t want anyone around him to notice him for any reason tonight. He feels safe enough for now.

He was immediately relieved when he realized Penny was not cancelling their date, but became slowly unnerved trying to riddle out why she didn’t have the service book a hotel room like their first dalliances. She’s changing the game. Why is she changing the game?

He knows he’s not in charge. That’s literally the point. Seeing her means seeing her on her terms and bending to her will and whims. So if driving out almost to Malibu is what she wants him to do, he’ll do it. But just when he was getting comfortable with this, or as comfortable as he can be when he’s regularly utilizing the services of a high priced call girl, she’s got him on edge again. Maybe she’s doing it on purpose. Maybe it’s a whole “domme” thing -- luring him like prey into a sense of security and then teasing him, faking him out to keep him on his toes.

He might be thinking too hard about this. Penny’s always trying to get his mind clear, not confuse or upset him. She wants to take care of him.

He swallows as the light turns green and he eyes his turn off a few hundred yards away. He hopes he’s dressed ok. He googled the Bay Club and it seems to just be an event space, not a restaurant or a hotel, which threw Shawn even further down the loop. He’s in black jeans, the good ones, the ones he wore before the Calvin Klein partnership that don’t have the big obnoxious CALVIN KLEIN JEANS patch on the back waistband, and an off white oxford with some embroidered detailing on the inside of the collar and the shirt pocket.

Are they staying here? He wonders as his Tesla hugs the curves of the road heading up the bluff to the Spanish style country club. Is she taking him to some kind of event? That would be weird. People know him. She can’t take him to stuff and expect him to be incognito. She wouldn’t do that, right? She’s been doing this a long time, she probably has had lots of famous clients that insist on staying under the radar.

He begins to spiral as the road does, dropping him right into the valet lane in front of the grand main building complete with cascading bougainvillea and an ornately sculpted fountain. He spots Gus standing under an overhang with his arms folded professionally looking like expensive private security. Shawn supposes that’s exactly what he is, actually.

The car rolls to a stop. He chokes down an inhale and rolls his window down when Gus gestures to him.

“Good evening, Mr. Mendes. Miss Penny is in the parking lot just around the corner there. May I see your--”

Shawn holds up the screenshot of his bank’s transfer confirmation on his phone with what he hopes is a smile and not a grimace but his whole stupid body is churning. Gus looks it over and nods, waving him toward the lot.

It’s nearly empty. There’s no event here tonight. It’s near sunset on a Tuesday in early June, but the dreaded LA June gloom is nowhere to be seen. Maybe Penny did away with that for them, Shawn muses absurdly as he steers the car toward the lot. She has power he doesn’t understand.

He stops the car in the middle of the lot, hitting the brakes a little too hard. He can’t even be bothered to park.

Propped up against a sleek black Aston Martin Vanquish S in a little white dress and beige leather driving gloves is Penny, looking somehow more like James Bond than one of his Bond girls. His brain pops and fizzles, giving out entirely. He swears he’s already hard in his jeans just from seeing the car. He releases a whimpered breath and gets his shit together enough to park beside her, not directly next to her for fear of bumping her car with his door.

He steps out on jello knees and stares at her, a burst of shocked laughter rumbling from his chest.

Penny grins and pats the hood affectionately.

“You wanna go for a ride?”

Does he ever.

The car growls as she shifts gears once they’re back on the PCH, cruising past ridiculous beach homes on their right and the Pacific on their left. He keeps looking down at her lap and the way her leg muscles flex and release as she works the pedals easily, like she’s been driving hundred thousand dollar sports cars since she got her license.

“How long have you had this?” he murmurs, gazing around at the blonde leather interior appreciatively.

“Two years. It’s my dream car.”

She strategically leaves out the part explaining that it was a gift from the North American president of Aston Martin for her birthday while he was her client. That’s need to know information.

“I think this is everyone’s dream car,” he snorts.

“I like your Tesla though,” she comments, shifting again, swerving around a couple hippies in a Jeep Wrangler without doors as easily as if she were brushing an ant off a windshield. Shawn’s stomach lurches in response and his skin tingles. There’s something incredibly sexy about a practiced, fearless driver.

“Yeah, it’s a good car,” he chirps, feeling silly about the boyish pride he felt when he bought it, like he was hot shit. Teslas are everywhere now, especially in LA. Aston Martins remain eternally cool. He finds himself oddly jealous.

“I don’t let just anyone in this car, you know,” she says, easing into a stop at a red light as they head north to Malibu. He looks over at her.

Her berry pink lips spread. He flushes.

“Oh no?”

He picks up on the implication that she means she doesn’t often take dates in this car. Where there was a hint of childish jealousy there’s now a swell of pleasure and pride.

“No, definitely not. There are many powerful men that are comfortable enough submitting themselves to me for sex but still can’t stomach being driven around by a young woman who’s a better driver than they are in a car that’s nicer than theirs.”

She lifts her leather gloved hand gracefully from the gearshift and drops it against his mid thigh, mashing her lips together as they enjoy the breeze coming in from the window.

“You’re saying you think I’m secure enough in my masculinity?” he jokes, but he feels himself flush a little.

Penny squeezes her fingers enough to make his whole body stiffen. She lifts the corner of her mouth in a smirk at his reaction.

“Exactly.”

Her voice is smooth and controlled, just like her driving as she springs forward on the green light. Shawn’s head tips back against the seat from the acceleration. He misses her hand as soon as she takes it away to attend to the gearshift.

He turns his head to watch her shamelessly, pressing his cheek into the warm leather headrest, admiring the way her dark hair flutters in the breeze.

“So where are we going?”

She smirks again in that way that always makes him ready to drop to his knees in surrender to her. That smile means she knows everything and controls it, too. He loves that smile. That smile is his freedom.

“Oh, you noticed this isn’t a hotel room?” she teases.

Shawn rolls his eyes and looks forward, watching the colors spread like spilled paint on a canvas as the sun begins to dip below the watery horizon. “Don’t need a hotel room to make you feel good, Penny.”

He feels her eyes and looks over to see her watching him, swiping her soft wet tongue against her lower lip. “Good to know.”

She dips around a curve and slows at another light, drumming her long slender fingers against the wheel. He watches them and can’t help but think about the last time they were together when she so generously let him watch her fuck herself and suck on her fingers after.

She seems to sense his antsiness and clears her throat. “Well, we are headed for a hotel room. I just wanted to take you on a little drive first. It’s not often I show off this car, like I said. And I like this part of the PCH.”

He settles, knowing there’s a bed for them at the end of this little journey. “Do you like the beach?”

“I love the beach,” she answers, nodding, “My favorite beach in the world is on Laucala Island in Fiji. It’s dead quiet and the snorkeling is the best I’ve ever seen.”

Shawn smiles. “So have you been, like, everywhere?”

“Well, I’ve been most everywhere on the Conde Nast Traveler’s Best Of list. There are still a lot of other places I’d like to visit.”

“Like where?”

“Like… Chicago. I’ve never been to Chicago,” she chuckles.

His eyebrows lift. “You’ve been to Fiji but not Chicago?”

She shrugs. “I know. Imagine missing out on all that deep dish pizza.”

Shawn laughs. “It makes sense though. Clients would rather fly you somewhere sexier than Chicago.”

There he goes, acknowledging the elephant in the back seat of the sportscar again. Penny nods appreciatively, but stays quiet. She still isn’t quite sure what to do about his insistence on reminding them both that she’s here with him in a professional capacity. He doesn’t even sound bitter or awkward about it, that’s the weirdest part. He just treats it like it’s a part of her life, and maybe he’s interested in her life and not just the insane orgasms she can dish out.

“What’s the craziest trip a client has taken you on?”

Penny chews on her lip. Shawn expects her to come away with lipstick on her teeth, but nothing. Figures. She’s perfect.

“I think… well, I can’t tell you who, obviously, but someone flew me to Mustique once on about four hours notice. I had to pack and get myself to LAX to catch the flight. And then we couldn’t get back for almost a week because of a hurricane on the east coast. But honestly, if I had to be stranded on any private island, I’d pick that one.”

Shawn grins and launches into a story about getting hounded by paps in Mexico with his family once. While Penny listens, she quietly marvels at how easily he handles her honesty about her job. She understands she’s not getting into the nitty gritty, not describing how many influential businessmen, politicians, musicians and actors she’s had on their knees for her, but still. Given the way he reacted the first time she flubbed and made mention of their professional arrangement, he seems oddly relaxed about it now.

She likes hearing him talk. She can see the way he settles down when he’s rattling away about something. He talks about his family and his crew and bandmates, weaving in and out of tangents with each breath. He doesn’t question it when she flips on her turn signal and edges them up a canyon path that leads up into the craggy hills, climbing away from the sunset.

He’s even still chattering when she shifts the car into park at the top of a bluff with a deserted lookout point that she knows and loves.

“... and anyway, I think the festival thing will be good, ya know? It’ll take my mind off all the shit leading into releasing the next album. Or, hopefully it will.”

He looks around and registers that they’ve stopped. He clears his throat and smiles sheepishly, tilting his head back against the headrest. His curls flop boyishly over his forehead, bathed in violet light from the sunset.

“I haven’t shut up for fifteen minutes at least, eh?”

Penny shakes her head, amused. “You haven’t, but that’s perfectly fine with me.”

Shawn understands that. It’s better if he talks than if she does. Her job is probably one that she tries not to put too much of her real self into. He imagines he wouldn’t, if he were in her position. Too messy.

He tries not to feel the pang of… something that flares in his chest when he looks at her and wonders how much of the little she shares of herself is real.

“I wanted you to see this view while the sun was still setting.”

He nods and settles in. They unbuckle their seatbelts. She reaches for her phone that’s plugged into the stereo and selects a playlist. Shawn closes his eyes, stretches out his legs as much as is possible in the sleek sports car and sighs.

“This is nice. I feel, like… really good around you.”

He doesn’t even flinch when he feels her fingers on his neck, the soft buttery leather tracing up his jugular vein to run along his jaw and tangle in the hair at his nape.

“That’s good.”

He keeps his eyes shut and breathes into her touch, letting Frank Sinatra’s voice flood out anything that isn’t Penny related. His aching brain welcomes the cleanse.

“Do you feel good around me?” he hums.

“I do,” she responds, pulling her hand back from him. He opens his eyes to see her carefully slipping out of her driving gloves. The action is erotic in a Victorian sort of way, despite the fact that if he glanced down he’d see a lot more leg than was ever shown in that era. He loves her hands, though. They’re fucking gorgeous hands. He thinks about them on a piano or a guitar and it makes him breathe a little harder.

She tucks the gloves away in the center console. Shawn swallows and blinks at her, hoping his big brown eyes can entice her into touching him with her bare fingers. He doesn’t even care where, not yet.

“So you like Sinatra?” he rasps.

He gets a nice little smile out of her. “I love Sinatra. I listen to a lot of that kind of music. The Rat Pack, anything from the 40s and 50s. My best friend Silver tells me I have an old soul.”

“Silver. That’s a cool name.”

Penny wets her lips and pushes a hand through her floaty blow out. “I’m not sure it’s real, but I don’t mind. She runs La Splendeur. We’ve known each other a long time.”

Shawn squirrels away this piece of information, knowing somehow in his gut that it’s the truth. He doesn’t think Penny lies to him much, if ever -- she just doesn’t offer a lot of specifics. When she does, he hoards them like a starving man.

“I thought about you so much in the last week,” he sighs, sounding resigned. As he keeps his eyes down at his lap, he sees her hand appear again, resting on his thigh. It’s warmer without her little glove. He takes a chance and places his on top of hers, massaging her wrist gently with his rough fingers.

“What did you think about?” she asks.

He looks up at her and sees all the little details his brain failed him on when he was away from her. She has little freckles on her shoulders, bared by the thin straps of her dress. She has a little scar on the cut of her jaw. Her lips are full and round but slightly uneven so when she purses them a certain way it looks like a sexy little scowl.

“Thought about touching you,” he muses, letting his greedy eyes rake over the rest of her, “Tasting you. I really… I love the way you taste, Penny.”

She slides down in her seat, sighing heavily, letting her legs fall open as much as the footwell will allow. Shawn’s mouth goes instantly dry.

“I wonder what you’ll do for me if I let you have another taste.”

She looks over to see Shawn’s eyes looking wild and needy. She has to tamp down a satisfied grin to keep her facade.

“Anything you want, Pen. I’ll make you come so good. As many times as you want. It can be like the other night, you know? Or… or whatever you want.”

Penny reaches out and cups his chin in her hand. He leans into it like an attention-starved house cat, practically nuzzling into her palm as his eyes flutter.

“Anything I want?” she purrs, pressing her fingertips into his jaw teasingly. He swallows a moan and nods as much as he can in her tight grip.

“Anything. Wanna be so good for you, Pen.”

She licks her pillowy lips and releases him. He inhales sharply, watching as she pushes her door open and steps out. Before he can react, ask what she’s doing or even open his door to try to follow her lead, she steps out of her vibrant pink Manolos and easily unzips her dress all the way to the hem, pushing it off her shoulders until it lands in the dust at her feet. Shawn groans at all her sweet soft skin, still evenly bronzed, her tight brown nipples puckering in the cool evening breeze. Her nude satin thong joins the rest of her expensive clothes. Shawn’s eyes focus on her, on the soft little patch of dark hair that crowns her pussy, on the memory of how wet he got her the last time they were together. He struggles to keep himself together.

She leans into the driver’s side, her breasts swinging as she lowers her head to kiss him. He sucks at her lower lip and hums into her mouth, the first taste of release as sweet as he remembers.

“Come here, Shawn,” she says firmly, jerking her head as she drops herself back into the driver’s seat, this time with her back to him, seated sideways facing her open door.

Shawn leaps out of the car, slams his door and hustles around the hood, barely slowing as he drops to his knees in front of her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chastises, plucking his hungry hands off her thighs as he braces himself to bury his face in her.

He looks up, bewildered but willing. She presses a finger to his lips, watches him kiss her skin while he stares up at her like it’s second nature to him.

“Stand up and turn around.”

His jaw snaps shut, the muscle twitching in protest like it does when he doesn’t get what he wants right away. Ever obedient, though, he stands and turns away.

Penny reaches into the glove compartment and comes out with a white silk tie from her favorite fetish set. She drops it in her lap and reaches for his hands, clasping them together behind his back. She binds him wrist over wrist like an expert.

His exhale whistles through his nose as his chest deflates. “Jesus, Penny.”

“I know,” she whispers soothingly. She’s been watching him all night. She knows how badly he wants to touch her. Taking that away is almost cruel, but it’s for a good cause.

With a gentle push from her, he turns and kneels again, watching as she props herself up, spreading her legs for him, arm up on the center console.

Shawn keeps his eyes on her despite how badly he wants to stare at her body. Her nose twitches against a powerful smirk. She rolls her hips forward slightly and watches him suck in a desperate breath.

“Want my pussy, Shawn?”

He nods almost frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” he croaks, his eyes flashing at hers, “Please. I need your pussy.”

She casually shrugs a hand into her hair and sighs. “Good. Because I want your mouth.”

Shawn lurches toward her, his shoulders pulling together as he buries his face in her warm wet folds. She mewls, smiling at his eagerness, rolling her hips slowly as he whimpers into her, trying to get his bearings before he can get totally lost in her perfect cunt.

He eases back slightly to focus on sucking on her outer lips, lifting his eyes to look at her as he tastes what he missed so much in the last week.

“That better, Shawn? You feel better now that you’re tasting me?”

He nods without lifting his head, swiping his tongue out to take long, broad licks of her, sweeping up all he can. When he can look up at her, her abdominal muscles quake, reacting to the heady desire in his eyes. She grunts, lifting her chin to urge him on.

“Yeah, feels so fucking good,” she mutters, letting her head fall back as she basks in it.

He knows what she likes now. After spending hours worshipping her pussy before he left for Toronto, he’s learned all the tricks, experimented carefully with pressure and position and speed and anything else he could think of to watch her perfect fucking thighs tremble next to his head and hear her make her pretty noises. Once she got comfortable with him between her knees, she started to talk dirty, praising him, swearing, generally moaning filth. He thinks he likes that maybe even more than her little whimpers.

But nothing’s better than when she screams.

Shawn starts slow, warming her up until she’s absolutely dripping on his tongue. He courses slow, deliberate circles around her entrance, just dipping inside and watching her chest rise with her inhale before he swipes at her lips some more, humming to drive her a little crazy. She likes the teasing, though. She likes the slow burn. He gives her what she wants.

“Like watching you suck on my clit with your pretty pink lips,” she half-whines, her foot slipping a little as she starts to fade closer to orgasm. He takes the hint and flicks at her swollen bud once, twice with his stiff tongue and then sucks it into his mouth with a satisfied groan.

“Yes,” she hisses, gripping his hair in one hand and the edge of her leather seat with the other, “Fuck, that’s so good. You’re so good for me.”

Shawn preens, sucking harder, then letting up on pressure, then going hard again. He can feel her orgasm coiled in her abdomen. She just has to let him release it. He alternates sucking and brushing his tongue against her entrance until she’s yanking at his hair, sitting up straighter.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come on your tongue,” she chants, nodding, eyes squeezed shut.

She opens them, looks down to see his hands straining behind his back, still bound for her as he sucks at her pussy like it’s the fucking fountain of youth.

She explodes. She holds his face down against her, rides it out against his mouth. Her legs spasm, feet slipping from where they’re propped beside him. Her cheeks are flooded red, her eyes glassy and dark as she swears his name. He doesn’t let up until she’s pulling his head away with a fist in his hair. He licks his lips and smiles -- it’s not a smirk or a simper. He smiles at her like he’s never been happier to see her. She grins back, giggling effusively.

“How was that?” he grunts, even though he knows. He wants to hear it. He deserves it.

“Perfect, Shawn. So… fuck, so good. Your mouth is amazing. You make me feel…” she sighs again through a drowsy grin, “You get me so high, baby.”

Baby.

His ears go as red as his cheeks. He ducks his head shyly, feeling his chest burn as his heart rattles like an angry kettle in his chest. One word, a word he’s been called a hundred times, a pet name he sings in songs he writes for women that don’t exist, and it has him reeling. He manages to raise his eyes again. She’s watching him fondly.

“You like that?” she whispers, cradling the back of his head as she reaches down behind him to free his hands. They go limp at his sides. He makes no move to touch her.

What a good boy.

He nods, uncertain. “I like that.”

“We all want to feel wanted, Shawn,” she coos, nudging him back up on his feet. She grins at the patches of dirt on the knees of his dark jeans. She offers him her hand and he helps her stand now in the crisp blue light of new dusk.

“Kiss me, baby,” she breathes, reaching for his waist. A weak noise of eagerness slips from his throat as he pulls her in, tucks her warm, orgasm-flushed body against his and lets her taste herself on his tired tongue. Just as he’s settling in, just as he gets comfortable and starts toying with tangling his fingers in the ends of her hair and massaging her cheek with his thumb, she pulls away, poker face firmly in place.

“Can you get my coat from the trunk?” She seals her request with a perfunctory peck against his lips.

He nods, letting himself look her over, naked and proud on this bluff above the ocean like there’s no one around for a thousand miles. He pops the trunk and opens her suitcase. A Burberry trench coat sits on top. He blinks and lifts it out. He’s about to ask if this is all she plans on wearing tonight when he catches sight of what else is in the suitcase.

He peeks his head around the trunk to look at her.

“Is… that for me?”

She places a hand on her hip and shrugs. “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Shawn’s heart bounces into his throat. His fingers tighten around the jacket.

“Jesus… Christ.”

Penny smiles and looks down at her feet as she takes slow steps toward the back of the car. She pries the jacket from his clawed hands and slips it on over her bare body, tying it at the waist.

She looks up at him under soft, hooded lids. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and cocks her head. “Ever tried one?”

He swallows like a fucking cartoon character and shakes his head.

“I think you’ll like it,” she purrs, flipping her hair out from under her collar and turning on her heel. She crouches, gathers up her dusty clothes and tosses them into the backseat. She slips back into her heels and lowers into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition.

The car growls. Shawn shivers. She pops her head out the driver’s side door and raises her eyebrows.

“Coming?”

Definitely.

----------

Hello! Thank you for continuing to support my smuttiest series ever. If you’d to further motivate me, consider buying me a Ko-fi (link in bio)!

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jessahmewren · 5 years

Text

“John Doe,” Queen/Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction--Poly!Queen Week Day One

Summary: Intrigued by a lonely patient, Nurse John sets out to help him.

Rating T: For some disturbing themes and imagery

Words: 2964

Pairing: John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor

TW: for suicide attempt mention

Also on Ao3

-0-0-0-

"How is he today?"

John took the chart from the nightshift nurse and thumbed through the last few hours of data. He was tall and trim in his white uniform, with long wavy brown hair and green almost grey eyes. The words on the page confirmed what his co-worker would say next.

"No change. Won't eat, barely speaks.” The other nurse shrugged and shook her head. Her eyes were ringed and bloodshot in the harsh fluorescent light. "I'm going home," she said tiredly, turning for the elevator. She waited there, rubbing her neck and shoulders until the elevator settled on the floor and she stepped inside.

The psychiatric ward at one of London’s busiest hospitals was not the easiest place to work, but John liked it. His last assignment, Labor and Delivery, was not all that different from what he did now. When you've had a (thankfully) empty bedpan thrown at your head by a spitting, foaming, mother-to-be in the throes of labor pains, a few death wishes and a couple of personality disorders seem to pale in comparison.

John perused John Doe’s file a bit further. No calls. No visitors. It had been two days since his admittance. He was brought in on a suicide attempt, but that was all he knew.

He knocked experimentally at the door and waited. Nothing. While he didn't have to knock, he often found that it made patients feel more at ease.

“May I come in?" Silence answered, so he eased the door open anyway. His shoes squeaked on the polished floor, abrupt and vulgar in the empty room. It was cavernous within, and quiet. A muted television flashed garish images over the hump of covers in the bed, bathing him in strobing, artificial light. The man lay on his side facing the wall and did not move. Aside from the patient, there was no other evidence that anyone had been there. No coat over a chair, no stale cup of coffee, no wilting daisies. It was as stark as a tomb.

"Well," John said good-naturedly, "I see you’ve slept some. That's good." When he made no effort to acknowledge him, John crossed and turned on the light over the bed. "But you still haven't eaten," he continued to his captive audience, "we're going to have to do something to change that today, okay?"

The man squinted a bit at the light's assault, raising his arm to shield his eyes. A thick white bandage around his wrist and halfway up his arm bloomed a crimson Rorschach at the sudden movement. It did not go unnoticed. "Let me get that changed for you," John remarked calmly, and set to work.

John performed his ministrations in silence. The man remained mute and limp, allowing him to move and dress his arm with no resistance. If tending the deep slashes in the man's wrist caused him any pain at all, he gave no indication. The striking man stared purposefully at the ceiling, a dispassionate mask firmly in place, refusing to look at the nurse.

John finished his other duties and recorded the data. "Ok, that'll do it then," he said pleasantly. He was careful to not be overtly cheery. "Is there anything you need?" John waited in the silence. “You wanna tell me your name? Would make this a whole lot easier.”

A curious shadow seemed to pass over the man’s face as he actually turned and regarded John, dark curls framing his face. Beautiful hazel eyes, pupils black and distant, seemed to consider the question. John waited. "Turn off the TV," he said at last.

The therapist had left it on, John was sure, in order for the patient to stay connected to the outside world. There was no bedside control, either. It was standard operating procedure and was therefore supposed to stay on. However, this was the first time the man had spoken to John, so he decided to extend the olive branch a little further and comply.

He reached up and turned it off. The very thin, very sad man with the large, wet eyes looked as though he would say more, so much more, but remained silent. John left him there in the room with the light now extinguished without another word.

---

John’s keys jingled in the lock as he opened the door to his shared flat. He was met by his boyfriend Roger who slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I missed you doll,” Roger said, a sweet smile on his face.

When John didn’t say anything at first, Roger frowned. “Rough day?”

John hung his head. “Sort of, yeah. Where’s Freddie?”

“In here darling! We’re having Spaghetti Pomodoro tonight. I hope that’s ok.”

John toed off his shoes, leaving them by the door. “That’s perfect,” he sighed as Roger led him to the couch. He looked up at him sheepishly. “Rog, can I have the magic fingers?”

Roger grinned mischievously, waggling his fingers in the air. “Ooh, you want these magic fingers, do you?”

John looked up at him hopefully, his green eyes flashing. “Please? My shoulders are killing me.”

Roger descended upon John’s knotted muscles, digging into the flesh with smooth, kneading motions.

John moaned in pure pleasure, his head lolling.

“What are you two getting up to over there?” Freddie called from the kitchen. “I feel like I’m missing out.”

“John wanted the magic fingers,” Roger said between giggles. “And he’s going to pay me back, aren’t you my love?”

John reached up to squeeze his hand. “I always do, don’t I?”

Roger smiled, digging into his shoulder with the pads of his thumb. “Mmm, you do. So are you going to tell us about your shitty day?”

John pressed his lips together. “There’s this patient.”

Roger kissed the top of his head, his massage finished, and walked around the couch to nuzzle into John’s side. Freddie had lowered the heat on the pasta sauce, and was now approaching the couch, too.

“Go on love,” he said as he settled on John’s other side.

John passed a hand over his face. “Just one of the suicides. He doesn’t have anyone, apparently. But there’s something about him.”

“What do you think it is?” Roger inquired, his blue eyes alight with interest.

“I don’t really know,” John said, shaking his head in frustration. “But I want to help him. More than I’ve ever wanted to help anyone.”

---

John arrived at work earlier than usual, anxious to check on Brian. He caught up on the nightshift’s report, a deep frown on his face.

“He tried to take out his iv?

The nurse at the nurse’s station nodded. “Panic attack. The doctor put him under heavy sedation. He should be up by now, though. Oh, and he’s in soft restraints.”

John put a hand on his hip, a headache already starting to form. He set his lunchbag on the counter, stashing the rest of his stuff behind the desk. “Hand me his chart; I’ll start with him.”

John knocked softly, and when he got no response, eased his way inside the room.

It was so dark. He could just make out the graceful outline of the man’s body, the billowy gown that swallowed him up, and those generous curls that formed a corona around his head as he reclined in bed. The sickly glow from the iv pump cast his face in a ghostly pallor, and if John squinted he could just make out his deceptively peaceful features…dark lashes cresting the gentle slope of his cheeks.

John soundlessly made his way to the bed, and only then did he notice the restraints. Without a word, he reached up and turned on the overhead light, flooding the bed in a fluorescent glow.

Two hazel eyes blinked at the intrusion, his face a little softer than the day before. He had a thin, beautiful face, delicate in its own way.

John smiled. “Good morning, you. It’s good to see those eyes open.”

“Brian,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Call me Brian.” His voice was unexpectedly soft, yet elegant, and John found he liked it very much.

John stood, his arms folded around his chart and a big smile on his face. “Well, Brian it is then. And I’m John. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Brian said nothing, but reached a hand up to scratch his nose, only to find them stubbornly bound in the Velcro restraints. John noticed immediately.

“You need some help with that? I’m a professional nose scratcher, among other things.”

Brian’s mouth quirked in what could be called a smile, and John thrilled inwardly at the victory. He scratched Brian’s nose for him, and the man sighed in relief.

John then poured him a glass of water and held it up to his lips for him to drink, which he took a few sip of before John proceeded to check his iv fluids and the rest of his vital signs.

Then John pulled up that empty chair and leaned in conspiratorially. “I brought you something today,” he whispered needlessly. “Lunch. One of my boyfriends made Spaghetti Pomodoro last night and I thought you might enjoy some.”

Brian’s eyebrows raised. “One of your boyfriends?”

John blushed. “Yeah, well I have two.”

“You have two boyfriends and you work in a psychiatric ward. You must like chaos.”

John couldn’t hold back his laughter. “You’re funny, Brian. Tell you what. You have lunch with me today, and you can tell me some more jokes. I’ll even remove those restraints so you can hold your own fork.”

Brian pursed his lips, and then gave him a genuine little smile. “Ok,” he said.

---

When Freddie found out that Brian had liked his cooking, he insisted on visiting him himself…with flowers and a basket of blueberry muffins.

John was over his head in paperwork when he saw his boyfriend breeze by the nurse’s station, a sunny arrangement of lilies and roses in his arms.

“Freddie! Darling, what are you doing here?”

“Oh! Hello my love!” He greeted John with a quick kiss, smelling so perfectly of spice and perfume and home that it made John ache.

When John’s question went unanswered, he gestured to the picnic basket.

“I thought I would visit your patient, seeing as he hasn’t had any visitors and he already likes my cooking,” he said sweetly.

John could have cried. This is why he loved the men he did.

“That’s…that’s so lovely Freddie. I’m sure Brian will be happy to see you.”

Freddie thrilled. “I hope so. Let’s find out. Point me to his room?”

John did, asking Freddie if he wanted him to go in with him.

“No darling, I want to go in by myself. I’m a visitor, not a nurse. No needles from me, just treats!”

John wondered briefly what all he had in that basket.

Freddie knocked on the door and received a hesitant “come in” in reply.

Brian was sat up in bed. His restraints were off and a pitcher of water was beside him on the table. Nothing else was in the room.

“Um, hi darling. My name is Freddie. I’ve been making your lunches. I thought maybe I might visit you for a bit?”

Brian’s eyes lit as though he already knew him. “A visitor,” he exclaimed, and his eyes misted over. “Please, come sit down Freddie.”

Freddie crossed to the table and pushed the water pitcher over to make room for the flowers. “These are for you love,” he said softly. “They really brighten up the place, I think.”

Brian swallowed. “They’re really beautiful,” Brian said almost to himself. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Freddie lay the picnic basket on the edge of the bed. “Well I do! Have one of these muffins. I made them just for you. We can eat and have a chat!”

Brian’s eyes lit at the muffins, still warm from the oven. He took one gingerly in his hand and held it to his nose.

“Go on,” Freddie encouraged, “take a bite.”

“Mmm,” Brian hummed around a mouthful of muffin. “Can I have another after this one?”

Freddie laughed. “The whole basket is yours darling. Plus I brought you some other things,” and Freddie began pulling out slippers, pajamas, candy and puzzle books.

Brian frowned. “They won’t let me have a pen or pencil,” he said, a little embarrassed.

Freddie waved it off. “Next time I’ll bring crayons.”

“You’re coming back?”

Freddie smiled. “Of course I am.”

---

“He’s into astronomy,” Freddie replied excitedly. “He’s studying astrophysics in school. Very bright. He loves music too.”

Roger spoke around a mouthful of food. “Do you have any idea why he uh…you know.”

“We don’t ask,” John said matter-of-factly. “We leave that to the therapists.”

“I know,” Roger said. “I’m just curious.”

Freddie cocked his head. “Well…he told me he came out to his parents and they rejected him. That couldn’t have helped.”

Groans reverberated all around the table.

“He literally has no one, John,” Freddie said gravely, “and he’s just lovely.”

Roger chased his food around his plate with his fork. “I’m going to see him then,” Roger said finally. “Take him some things. Give him someone else to look at besides Freddie.”

Freddie stuck his tongue out at him and they all laughed.

---

Roger arrived at Brian’s door with a stack of books in his hand. He knocked quietly and received the same hesitant “come in,” that Freddie did, so he pushed his way inside.

Brian was standing at the window wearing the pajamas Freddie had bought him. They had all guessed at the size using John’s observations, but they were still a little short on him. Roger cleared his throat.

“Hey Brian, I’m Roger. John and Freddie’s boyfriend? I’ve heard so much about you that I thought I’d like to meet you…maybe spend some time with you if that’s ok.”

Brian huffed a little laugh, an odd look on his face. “You guys just keep getting better looking,” and smiled when Roger actually blushed.

Freddie made sure the flowers stayed fresh, so there were freesias this week and the room smelled divine. Roger placed his stack of books on the table and kept his hand there, nervously tapping his fingers.

Roger really hadn’t expected Brian to be so tall and well, handsome.

“I brought you some books and magazines,” he began. “Freddie told us you like astronomy and music, so I picked carefully. I hope you like them.”

Brian began to thumb through his choices, smiling broadly. “What kind of music do you like?”

---

“He doesn’t have anywhere to go after he gets out,” Roger stated flatly as they sat watching the telly. “His parents have abandoned him and his flatmate kicked him out. All because he’s gay. Unbelievable.”

John shook his head. “It’s not really. We’re just really lucky. A lot of people think that way.”

Freddie frowned. “It’s fucking disgusting.”

“Well what’s going to happen to Brian?” Roger continued.

John pursed his lips. “Why can’t he stay with us for a while? Just until he gets on his feet?”

Freddie clapped his hands. “Oh, that’s a marvelous idea dear. We have the spare room.”

Roger nodded. “Freddie and I will get to work getting it ready. When is he released?”

John thought for a moment. “Next week I believe. That should be plenty of time.”

John kissed both of his boyfriends. This situation was turning out better than he’d hoped.

---

The next day Roger and Freddie showed up at the hospital so all three could go in and ask Brian about their plans. When the time came, they went in to find Brian sitting up in one of the chairs reading a book. He smiled at them.

“All three of you? This is a surprise.” He eyed John. “Is this official nurse business or just a visit?”

John smiled. “Just a visit this time.”

“We actually had a question we wanted to ask you,” Freddie said. “You’ll be released soon, and we wondered where you might go.”

Brian blinked, looking down. “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

John spoke up. “Would you consider coming home with us? You know, just until you get things figured out?”

A bright smile lit Brian’s face, then disappeared just as quickly. “I can’t let you do that, John. I’ve been too much of an imposition already.”

Roger piped up. “No you haven’t! We enjoy your company, Brian. We want you to stay with us. Don’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Freddie agreed.

“Yes,” John added. “Would you please consider coming home with us? Your room is all ready. All you have to do is say yes.”

Brian swallowed, but there was a longing in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’ll consider it,” he said.

“Good darling,” Freddie said as they turned to leave. “No more muffins until you say yes,” he said with a wink.

---

Brian said nothing more about his decision until it was time for his discharge from the hospital. John quietly got the paperwork ready, helped him put his meager belongings in a bag, and put him in a wheelchair per hospital policy. John knelt in front of him, eyes imploring.

“So, Brian…where are you off too today?”

Brian sat for a moment. “I think I’m ready to go home,” he said thoughtfully.

It took John by surprise. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Brian said with a slow smile lighting his face. “It’s Tuesday, and Freddie makes Spaghetti Pomodoro on Tuesday.”

John reached out to ruffle the man’s dark curls, noticing how he leaned into the touch. “Indeed he does, Brian. Let’s go home then.”

-0-0-0-

#queen #bohemian rhapsody #poly!queen 2019 #queen fan fiction #queen fan fic #queen fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #borhap fic #borhap fanfic #poly!queen #brian may angst #brian may fanfiction #my writing #josqueenfamily

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drbrianhmay · 5 years

Text

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics // Brian May x Reader

Summary: “It’s a job, really.” He shrugged. “Aspiring rockstar doesn’t pay the rent.”

“Yet.” You smiled encouragingly.

He nodded his head toward you. “Yet. In the meantime, I teach first-years to not be afraid of maths. Although I get the impression you’re not a first year?”

You laughed, “Yeah, no. Third year, nursing. This is my final term, actually. I’ve managed to avoid maths up to this point, but apparently I need it to graduate, so here I am, trapped in Stats I.”

Pairing: 1970s!Brian May x Reader (pre/early Queen era)

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Smut (oral sex - fem receiving, riding, unprotected sex, non/under-negotiated but enthusiastic mild D/s), flagrant disrespect of data analysis

Word Count: 7k

Notes: Massive, unending thanks to @sweet-ladyy for beta reading, editing, and enthusiasm! I’m just getting back into writing after years and years, and you’ve been indispensable <333

Reblogs/Feedback appreciated!

Requests: Open

Read on AO3

You glared balefully at the blackboard as you slipped into the front row of the lecture theatre. Statistics I was written across the board in tidy cursive. You sighed as you reached into your bag for a notebook and a pencil, hating the fact that this was a required module for your nursing degree. Maths had never been your strong suit, and thus far you’d managed to avoid it, but here you were in your final semester of your final year, and couldn’t put it off any longer.

You were cursing yourself for not having the foresight to take it in your first year, when you heard the classroom chatter begin to die down, and someone at the front of the room cleared their throat. You glanced up, towards the front of the lecture theatre, and made a small sound of delight at the man in front of you.

He was tall, with long legs clad in black trousers sitting high on his hips, leading to a white button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. He had a wild head of dark curls, and what looked like a necklace hidden under his collar. He shot a quick look at you as your eyes raked over him – you blushed and looked back at your notebook. Clearly you hadn’t been as discrete as you’d thought, looking him over.

A small smile danced across his lips as he raised his voice to speak.

“Good afternoon everyone; my name is Brian May, and I am Dr. Rochfort’s teaching assistant for this term. As this is the first class of the term, and as it’s probably the last class of the week for many of you, we thought it would be best if I went over the course outline and expectations, and then would release you all to enjoy a bit of an early weekend.”

A few cheers went up towards the back of the lecture hall, and Brian smiled widely, showing off sharp teeth in a mischievous grin. “Don’t get used to it, folks. This may be a Friday afternoon class, but going forward, Dr. Rochfort will be using every available minute.” Brian turned towards the blackboard, and called over his shoulder, “Now, take out your notebooks and biros while I go over office hours and the class schedule.”

You dutifully took notes for the next little while, noting both Dr. Rochfort’s and Brian’s office hours, as well as the course outline and the dates of upcoming quizzes. After about twenty minutes, Brian stepped away from the board and addressed the class again.

“Any questions? No? Everyone knows which seminar group they’re in, and where and when those will be meet? Excellent.” He clapped his hands together once. “Well, that’s everything for today. I’ll see you all in your seminars next week, and Dr. Rochfort will see you here next Friday. Cheers everyone, have a good weekend!”

You sat back, slowly packing your books back into your bag, to avoid the crush of first-years heading for the door. As you finished and stood, you noticed Brian staying back, leaning against the desk, staring at you. You glanced around, and noticed that nobody was waiting, so you stepped toward him, raising an eyebrow as you spoke.

“Can I help you, Mr. May?”

He flushed slightly, and shook his head, curls bouncing. “Please, call me Brian. And no, I’m sorry. It’s just… have I seen you someplace before?”

You hadn’t recognised him when he first arrived, but over the duration of the class, you’d begun to put it together.

“Mmm, well, I’ve seen you play. Your band, I mean. My flatmate, Patty, is studying chemistry at Imperial College, and we go to shows at the Union fairly regularly. You’re the guitarist, yeah?”

Brian bit his lip slightly and nodded. “Mostly. And I’m working on a doctorate in astrophysics, also at Imperial.”

“So what are you doing here at King’s, then?” You gestured at the room around you. “This seems a bit of a downgrade, for an astrophysicist and aspiring rockstar.”

“It’s a job, really.” He shrugged. “Aspiring rockstar doesn’t pay the rent.”

“Yet.” You smiled encouragingly.

He nodded his head toward you. “Yet. In the meantime, I teach first-years to not be afraid of maths. Although I get the impression you’re not a first year?”

“Trapped?!” Brian stood, pretending at offense. You shook your head.

“I’m unbelievably bad at anything mathematical, you’ll see.” You glanced at your watch. “I really should run – but fair warning, I’ll be making full use of your office hours.”

“I look forward to it.” His tone was warm, but carried an undercurrent of something else. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as you slipped your bag onto your shoulder.

“I.. I should be going. Have a good weekend, Brian.” You fled, cursing your easy embarrassment.

Three Weeks Later

“Good afternoon everyone. Please put away your books and have your pencils ready for the quiz.” Dr. Rochfort strode back and forth in front of the class. “Brian will be collecting them when the time is up, and will have them marked before the end of our class today. Is everybody ready? Good. You have fifteen minutes, time starts now.”

You turned over the quiz that had been set in front of you, and groaned internally. Goddamn statistics. Despite faithfully attending every seminar, and getting help during office hours, nothing seemed to stick in your memory. You clenched your teeth and began the first problem.

Fifteen minutes later, you grudgingly handed it over to Brian as he walked by collecting the quizzes. You could see that he was sending you a concerned look, but you refused to meet his eyes. Bugger statistics anyway – all you had to do was make it through this course, and you’d be done. You took a fortifying breath and sat up straight, ready for the lecture.

Towards the end of the class, Brian walked back in, setting a stack of papers on the edge of the desk, and leaning back beside them. Dr. Rochfort nodded, and continued,

“I think we’ll wrap it up there for this week. Everyone, if you could please form a queue at the front here, and Brian will hand your quizzes back as you leave. Thank you, have a good weekend!” He gathered his things and left the room, as the rest of the class moved to the front of the room to collect their results. Your chest felt heavy, as you knew you’d probably failed. You grabbed your bag and joined the queue, making sure that you were in the middle of the group so that Brian wouldn’t have time to make small talk or try to discuss your grade.

As you reached the front of the queue, he had your quiz waiting, his brow furrowed in concern. “[Y/N],” he began, but you reached out and took the quiz from his hands, effectively cutting off any line of questioning.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and all but ran for the door.

As you stepped into the corridor outside the lecture theatre, you looked at the paper in your hands. As expected, there was a lot of red ink, indicating corrections; what was unexpected, however, was the note clipped to the page, written in Brian’s distinctive script. You peered at it, trying to decipher his writing.

[Y/N],

I hope this isn’t too forward, but it seems like you’re struggling a bit with the concepts here. I know you’ve been stopping by my office with questions, but if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to offer some extra tutorial. Are you stopping by our gig tonight? If you are, please stay after – I’ll buy you a drink, and we can decide a time to get together for studying.

Cheers,

Bri

Well. You had been planning to whine at Patty, and bunk off for the evening, claiming headache; but at this point Brian was well aware of just how poorly you were doing, so there wasn’t much use in being embarrassed about it now. And you did like their music. Mind made up, you headed out to catch the Circle line back to your flat, to get ready for going out tonight.

Later that evening, you were flopped back on Patty’s bed, watching her try on clothes and change her mind about all of them.

“Paaatttyyyyyy,” you whined, getting annoyed at her indecisiveness, “We’re going to be late, come on. Just pick something. We need to leave now.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t care what people think of you.” Her voice was muffled as she pulled another top off and tossed it to the floor.

You huffed, sitting up. “Well excuse me for having more important things to think about than whether my tits are on display.” You reached down and adjusted your bra. Tonight, your tits were on display, and frankly, you thought they looked pretty good.

Patty’s head popped through the collar of a black turtleneck, and she turned around to sigh at you. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You just have this confidence, where you don’t worry about small shit. I’ve got no boobs and no arse – I have to work at looking good.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Oh come off it, you’re a gorgeous little pixie and you know it. You’d look amazing in a paper bag. You’re like Twiggy. Whereas I have too much tits and arse. Do you think I should go on a diet?” You flopped back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling. Patty’s face hovered into view, incredulous.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you actually serious right now? Firstly, NO. Secondly, what on God’s green earth would possess you to say something like that?” She narrowed her eyes at you. “What’s his name? Is he going to be there tonight? Is that why you’re acting all weird?” Patty leapt onto the bed and bounced on her knees beside you. “Are you seriously interested in a guy? Finally?”

You groaned and hid your face behind your hands. “I guess. His name’s Brian. He plays guitar.”

Patty pulled your hands back from your face, giving you a considering stare. “The tall skinny one with the hair, then? Huh. Didn’t think he was your type.” She scrambled off the bed, pulling you upright to standing, casting a critical eye over your outfit – striped top, denim skirt, high boots. You held your arms out to the side and spun around.

“Well, do I pass inspection?”

She nodded. “You look great. He’s going to eat you up.”

You flushed. “We’re not… it’s not like that. He’s the teaching assistant for my stats class, too, so it’s kind of a dodgy idea. It’s just… you know how I’m terrible at maths, right?”

Patty nodded. She’d made the mistake of putting you in charge of the household budget just once, and it ended with the pair of you living on popcorn and orange juice for a week.

“Well, I’ve been getting extra help during his office hours – ”

“Oooh, extra help.”

“Not like that, you wretch. Brian’s kind, and I think it bothers him to see me struggle. I almost failed a quiz this morning, and he said to come talk to him after the show, about some additional tutoring. And I don’t know, maybe it could end up as more? I really like him – he’s smart, and funny, and seems to genuinely care when I talk to him. Sometimes I think he’s flirting with me, so I flirt back a little bit, but it never seems to go anywhere. But like I said, he’s sort of my teacher, so I don’t know if it’s even worth trying.”

You looked pointedly at your watch, and then back to Patty. “And now, Pats, because you can’t pick out a damn shirt, we’re going to be late. Can we go yet?”

“Of course, lovey.” Patty leaned over and gave you a peck on the cheek, then frowned and wiped off the traces of her lipstick. She grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door of the flat. “Let’s go get you a man.”

~~~~~

The band was already warming up when you finally made it to the Union, and a crowd was beginning to form at the stage. You and Patty were good at this, though, and held onto each other while elbowing your way to the front. She nudged you and pointed at the band.

“New band name? New people? Did Brian say anything?”

You nodded. “Yeah, apparently Tim left a little while ago. So now Bri and Roger’ve got their other flatmate, Freddie, singing. Don’t know about the bass player though; I think he’s new since Brian and I last spoke.”

Patty bit her lip and waved as Brian glanced towards you from back near the drums. He smiled and nodded, turning to say something to the bassist, who then lifted his head to take in the pair of you. Patty smiled widely and waved again, causing the bassist to blush and duck his head.

“Take it easy, Pats, it looks like he’s shy.” You knew once she’d set her sights on someone, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable conclusion.

She giggled. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry. We can’t break their bass player, it might bring down your mark in the class.”

Just as you were about to point out that your marks couldn’t get much lower, the house lights went down and a beautiful man with long dark hair stepped to the front of the stage.

“Hello my darlings – we’re so happy you’ve joined us tonight. This one is for all you tarts that we’ve come to know and love!”

And they were off, music screaming through the bar, Freddie’s vocals soaring above everything; and standing in front of you, Brian playing the guitar like it was an extension of his soul. He was captivating, both technically and physically, and you felt arousal curl through your abdomen as you watched his long fingers dance up and down the fretboard.

You didn’t know how long you’d been standing there, staring at Brian’s hands on his guitar, people dancing around you, when you realised that Brian was staring back. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed hard, clenching your legs together as you felt a dampness between your thighs. Brian smirked, then swirled around to stand closer to Roger. You moaned softly, though apparently not softly enough, as Patty poked you in the ribs and laughed. She leaned over to yell in your ear.

“Should I find somewhere else to be tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, pushing her lightly. She leaned into you as the band wrapped up their set, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the bar as the music crashed to an end.

Patty was ordering pints for the both of you, as you leaned against a pillar, watching the crowd to see if you could find Brian in the mass of bodies. You jumped and turned as you felt a hand come to rest on your waist.

“Hello, love.” Brian’s voice was whisky warm as he set his hands low on your hips. “Did you enjoy the show?”

You shivered and stepped closer, tipping your chin up to look into his eyes. He looked incredible tonight, his hair wild and his eyes smudged with kohl. You could feel a blush starting. “What do you think?”

He smiled, squeezing your hips gently, and took a step back to gesture at the men standing behind him. “Would you like to meet the band? This is Roger, Freddie, and our new bassist, John. Gents, this is [Y/N].”

You leaned forward, shaking hands and making introductions with Roger and John. Freddie caught your hand and raised it to his lips, quickly kissing your knuckles and giving your fingers a squeeze as he released you.

“Darling, it’s delightful to finally meet you. Brian’s been saying so many wonderful things, it’s about time we’re able to put a face to the name!”

“Oh, um… thank you? I think?” Your blush darkened as you looked up at Brian, not sure how to respond.

“Well, that’s good to hear. [Y/N] is pretty amazing, despite her issues with maths.” And there was Patty, back with drinks, jumping in to be as embarrassing as possible. You sighed and leaned in to Brian as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, hugging you close to his side.

“Everyone, this is my flatmate, Patty. Pats, this is Freddie, Roger, John, and Brian.” You gestured to each man in turn, and reached out to take your beer. Patty ignored you, handing one of the pints to John, as he’d reached out to try to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you all. John, was it?” She stepped forward and tucked her hand into his elbow, gently ushering him towards a quiet alcove. John shot a surprised glance back to you, and Roger gave him a thumbs-up.

“Have fun, make good choices!” he called, barely audible across the crowd. He turned back to you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “She has no idea what she’s in for.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Patty’s going to eat him alive, most likely. She can be a touch… hmm, aggressive, I think would be the best word for it.”

Roger shook his head. “You’d be surprised, John can hold his own. Knows what he wants and gets a bit single minded about it. Sort of like our Brian here, too.” He reached out and patted Brian’s shoulder. “With that in mind, I think Fred and I will make our goodbyes. [Y/N], it was nice to meet you.”

Freddie and Roger stepped back into the the crowd, leaving you and Brian alone. He put his mouth to your ear, so he didn’t have to yell.

“Would you like to get out of here?”

You nodded, breathless, and Brian began to walk you to the door, his arm still wrapped over your shoulders, holding you against him. The two of you spilled out the door, gasping at the shock of the cool winter air after the heat of the bar. The sudden silence rang in your ears, and you opened your mouth to speak, ready to break the undercurrent of awkwardness that had arisen.

Instead, Brian spun you around to face him, leaned down, and pressed his lips gently against yours. You inhaled sharply, and when he moved to pull pack, you grasped his arms and tugged him back in.

“It’s good,” you murmured, “just surprised me.”

Brian hummed, and ran his tongue gently against your lips, seeking access. With a soft whimper, you opened for him, sliding your hands up his arms and sinking your fingers into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. He slipped his knee between your thighs and pulled your hips to his, then –

“Oi! Take it off the street, mate!”

You sprang apart, startled, looking back towards the door of the bar, and the man who’d yelled at you. Sheepishly, you raised a hand in acknowledgement, and reached back for Brian, tangling your fingers with his.

“Back to mine?” Brian nodded, and you began walking towards the Queen’s Gate. “I’m just across the park, if you’re okay with a bit of a walk?”

“Of course.” Brian ducked his head guiltily. “It’ll give me a chance to cool down, too.”

“Oh, Brian, no – I want this too. I’m just as into this as you are, okay?”

He smiled widely, showing off his cute pointed teeth. “Okay.” He tightened his grip on your hand as you headed off towards your flat.

For the next twenty five minutes, the two of you chatted easily, exchanging stories about your childhoods, friends, and college days. As you drew closer to your street, your glances became heated, and the silences heavier, as you both began to anticipate what was to come.

You unlocked the door to your flat, but before stepping inside, turned and rested your hand on Brian’s chest. He stopped immediately, a worried look on his face. “Is everything all right?”

“I just want to make sure this won’t affect you, as someone who marks my class work. No favouritism, okay?”

Brian winced. “Ah, I’m more likely to be a bit harsher on you, actually. I’ll try not to be, I promise. I just… I tend to have fairly high expectations of the people I date.”

“Oh, we’re dating now, are we?” you teased, pulling him through the door and locking it behind you. He flushed.

“Well, I had kind of hoped…”

You stepped around him, and onto the stairs leading up to your kitchen. Standing a few steps above him, you turned around and looked him in the eye.

“We’ll figure that out in the morning. Right now, Brian, I need you to take me to bed.”

He groaned lowly, resting his hands on your ass while tilting his head to find your lips with his. Your held on to his upper arm with one hand, while tangling the other in the curls at the back of his neck. He pulled back slightly to nip at your lips, and you gasped into his mouth. Taking advantage of this, he dipped his tongue behind your teeth to deepen the kiss. You broke away, panting.

“Bedroom, follow me. Otherwise we’re going to end up shagging on the step.”

You led the way up the stairs, through the kitchen, and into your bedroom, gesturing Brian through the door and clicking the door shut behind him. A sudden attack of nerves had you asking,

“Can I get you anything? Water, tea, squ -”

Brian cut off your rambling with a quick kiss, as he curved into you, pressing your back against the door.

“Just you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, nipping a bruise at the junction of neck and shoulder.

“Jesus…” you breathed, tipping your head to the side. Brian laughed softly.

“Bri will do.” He sank to his knees in front of you, hands moving to your legs, and began to slowly unzip your boots, lifting each of your feet in turn as he slid your boots off and set them aside. Finished, he slid his hands up your thighs, until his fingertips rested just under the hem of your skirt. He tipped his head back and looked up at you, eyes dark and wanting.

“May I?” His hands crept further up. You nodded frantically.

“I need you to use your words, love.”

“Yes, Brian, please! God!” You let out a whimper as you felt his fingers grasp the edge of your panties and pull them down your legs, sliding them over your feet, and tossing them aside. Returning to your thighs, he pushed your skirt up to your hips, then lifted your right knee over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. You gasped as you felt the fingers of his right hand drift gently over your folds, discovering your wetness there. You felt him smile against your thigh, then trail his tongue across as he moved his mouth to your core.

“Brian, oh my god!” You grasped desperately at his curls as he began to eat you out, sliding a finger into your slick cunt while tonguing rhythmically at your clit. You’d been riding a wave of arousal for most of the night, which meant unless Brian pulled back, this was going to be over pretty quick. He nudged a second finger in alongside the first, curling them forward repeatedly. You felt your your thighs start to shake as your walls began to tighten around Brian’s fingers. Digging your fingers tighter into his hair, you braced against the wall and tried to warn him.

“Bri… I’m… oh my god, Bri…” He started to suck on your clit, adding just a hint of teeth, and you felt a wave of white-hot pleasure spread through your body as you tumbled over the edge. “Oh GOD, BRIAN!” You squeezed your eyes shut and came loudly, your cries echoing in the room. As you recovered, you felt Brian gently remove his fingers from inside you, as he slid your leg from his shoulder and stood. You forced your eyes open and blinked at him, cunt spasming as you watched him suck your wetness from his fingers. He noticed that your eyes were open and smirked at you, enjoying the flush that he could see on your cheeks.

“Bed?” He asked, feigning innocence. You nodded, taking shaky steps across the room. You pushed the duvet to the foot of the bed and turned back to see Brian unbuttoning his trousers, his shirt already discarded in a heap on the floor. A large, damp spot was visible on his underwear, revealing his arousal. As he pushed his trousers and pants down over his hips, you gazed hungrily at his cock, long and thick, just on the good side of too much. Brian watched as you pulled your shirt over your head and reached back to unclasp your bra and drop it to the floor, your nipples pebbling in response to the hungry look in his eyes. You popped the button on your skirt, allowing it to slide to the floor as well. Stepping out of the puddle of denim, you sat near the head of the bed and beckoned Brian closer. He crossed the room in a few long strides, crawling up on to the bed and hovering over you, canting his head towards you to capture your lips in a firm kiss, one hand trailing across your ribs to cup your breast.

“All right, love?” he murmured, nibbling at your lips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tugged him closer. You smiled into the kiss.

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, wrapping one leg around his hips, and using the other to flip you both, so that Brian was on his back and you were sat on his thighs. He blinked up at you, shocked.

“All right, love?” you sassed, teasing. He relaxed into the pillows, bemused.

“I have to say, I did not expect that.” He gestured grandly, “But feel free to continue.”

Smirking, you placed your hands on his chest and began to slowly rock forward, allowing his hard cock to slide between your folds. The two of you groaned in unison at the slick slide, Brian raising his shoulders slightly as he lifted his hands toward your nipples. You pushed him back down.

“Stay,” you gasped out, feeling heat begin to pool in your gut, and knowing that you were on your way to orgasm number two. Brian whined high in his throat, as you grasped his wrists, moving his hands to the bars on the headboard. “No touching unless I say so.”

He nodded quickly, wrapping long fingers around the iron bars. You slid back from his cock, raising up on your knees, moving a few inches forward. You reached one hand down between your legs to hold yourself open, holding Brian’s cock steady with your other hand, as you positioned yourself above him and began to slowly sink down onto his member. The stretch was almost uncomfortable, but so good, and you let out a guttural moan as you bottomed out. You peered down at Brian, who had his head thrown back and a clenched jaw. You raised your hips and slowly slid back down onto him, watching as his mouth dropped open.

“Look at me, Brian. Open your eyes,” you commanded breathlessly, getting into a rhythm of rising and falling on his cock. “Tell me what you want.”

He blinked rapidly up at you, searching for a coherent thought. “Please…” he managed, “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, don’t stop. So fucking good. So tight. Want…” He groaned loudly as you clenched around him on the next upstroke.

“What do you want?”

“Wanna come inside you, fill you up. Wanna claim you oh my GOD!” You’d reached out to tweak his nipples, while circling your hips. Brian bucked up into you as you slammed back down, pulling moans from both of you. You leaned forward to pull his hands from the headboard, bringing them to your chest.

“Touch me, Brian, please.” You gripped the top of the headboard for balance as you continued to ride his cock, the forward tilt of your shoulders allowing your tits to sway above him. He wrapped a hand around your back, and reached up to take a nipple in his mouth. You keened at the sensation, trying not to lose your rhythm. “So good, baby. You’re so good.”

Brian’s mouth tightened at the praise, the light scrape of his teeth causing you to clench hard around him. He whimpered and dropped his head back briefly, before moving to give the same treatment to your other breast. You could feel yourself getting closer, so you leaned down to whisper in his ear,

“Want your come, baby. Need you to fill me up, make me yours.”

With a grunt, Brian grabbed your hips and began pounding up into you. You leaned back, reaching between your legs to rub desperately at your clit. Heat suffused your body, and you scrabbled to clutch at Brian’s hands as your orgasm overtook you, a crash of elation exploding through your body while stars flashed behind your eyes. You felt Brian grip your hips and drive into you a final time, trembling and yelling as your cunt clenched around him, holding him tight as he emptied himself into your body.

You moaned, tipping slowly forward to rest your forehead on his collarbone, the pair of you breathless like you’d just finished a race. As your breathing began to calm, Brian gently lay you down on your side, and slipped from you, a gush of fluid causing you to clench your thighs together. He kissed your cheek and slid from the bed. You made a small moue of disappointment, and he stroked his fingers through your hair.

“Just going to get a flannel, love, I’ll be back in a moment.” You hummed in assent and closed your eyes, floating on happiness and exhaustion. You felt a warm hand reach between your legs as Brian cleaned you up with a damp cloth. You heard him drop it to the floor, and felt him crawl back into the bed beside you, pulling the duvet up as he lay down. You cuddled into his chest, smiling in contentment as he wrapped an arm over your shoulder.

“Should I stay?” he whispered.

You nodded, head still tucked under his chin. “Of course. I’ll make breakfast.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke gradually, body relaxed and slow like honey, as sounds from the street drifted up through the window and pale morning light filtered through the curtains. Brian was snug against you, with his face tucked between your shoulders and an arm thrown over your ribs, his morning wood pressed into your backside. You stretched your legs, feeling Brian shift behind you, moving his hips away. You reached back and gripped his thigh, tugging him closer while spreading your knees slightly in invitation. He laughed softly against your back as he reached down and lifted your leg, sliding easily into you, still slick from last night. You sighed happily, pushing back against him while his hips began a slow thrust.

He reached up to tap at your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth when you opened for him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep. “Get ‘em wet, love.”

You swept your tongue over his fingers until they were slick, at which point Brian tugged his hand from your mouth, stretching down to rub his fingers smoothly over your clit, in counterpoint to his thrusts. You relaxed into him, revelling in the leisurely smoulder of lazy morning sex, enjoying the slow build without intention, allowing your orgasm to hit you without warning. You cried out sharply, trembling, and felt Brian still his thrusts behind you as he grunted out his release. You lay together for a few minutes, breathing in time, not speaking – just enjoying the feeling of being so entwined with another person. Eventually, reality came sneaking back, as Brian’s soft cock slipped from your cunt, his seed trickling down your thighs. You grimaced and sat up, looking back over your shoulder to see Brian watching you, his eyes soft and warm below a mass of riotous curls. A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth. You returned the expression, reaching back to delicately push his curls out of his face.

“Wash up, then breakfast?” Your question was quiet, not wanting to break the stillness of the morning. Brian nodded, catching your hand with his and kissing your fingertips. You felt a flush rise in your face, and your heart danced in your chest. Clearly Brian’s ‘dating’ idea had some merit. You rose from the bed and opened the door, checking to see if Patty had arrived home during the night, or if you needed to cover up for your run to the bathroom. The flat was otherwise empty, so you dashed out into the hall, calling back to Brian that you’d set some towels out.

You washed up quickly and passed Brian in the hall as you returned to your room to get dressed. Not knowing if he had any plans for the day, you opted for simple corduroy trousers and a t-shirt, which would serve well if you two decided to go out together. You could hear him rattling around in the bathroom as you went to the kitchen to start breakfast.

You heard Brian come up behind you as you peered into the fridge. “Omelette?” you asked, holding pointing at the basket of eggs on the counter. “You eat eggs, yeah?”

“Eggs and dairy, actually. Sometimes fish, depending.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Well, a fish omelette sounds disgusting, so I think this morning is going to be cheese omelette and toast.” You stood and shut the fridge, a container of grated cheese in your hands. You gestured towards the counter, where a loaf of bread and a butter bell sat beside a toaster. “I’ll do the eggs, you handle the toast?”

You and Brian worked easily around each other while making small talk, turning out fluffy omelettes and perfectly browned and buttered toast in record time. The kettle whistled just as you were sliding the last bit of eggs onto a plate, and Brian reached past you for the mugs for tea. You transferred everything to the small kitchen table, sitting down across from Brian and blushing again.

“This is nice.” Brian rested his elbows at the edge of the table and held his mug up just below his chin.

“The breakfast?” You were a bit confused. He laughed.

“Well, having breakfast. Together. It’s nice – we fit well together.” He paused and sat back in his chair, one-handedly cupping the mug to his chest. “I meant what I said last night, you know, about dating. You know, [Y/N], we’ve spent a fair bit of time together over the past few weeks, and you know what I’m referring to. We click. And last night… well, last night was amazing.”

You ducked your head shyly. Considering how incredible last night had been, it was ridiculous to be embarrassed, but you still felt awkward meeting Brian’s eyes.

“Love, are you okay? Did you enjoy it?” Brian’s voice was concerned, and you looked up at him, seeing the apprehension on his face.

“Brian, it was wonderful. You were wonderful,” you reassured him. “Honestly, I have no regrets. I’m just worried about what being together would mean, for school.” You gnawed on your lip, considering. “This is my final term, and you’re technically my teacher for a required class. The conflict of interest is monumental – I could be expelled, you could lose your job. I want to date you, I really do, but…”

“But you won’t.” Brian looked at you, defeated. You nodded.

“I won’t, I just can’t risk it. And I know I have no right to ask this, and I’ll understand if you say no, but I really do like you, and there’s no harm in asking – ”

He cut you off. “Breathe, love. Just ask.”

You took a deep breath. “Wouldyouwaitforme?” you asked in a rush.

“Sorry, come again?”

“Would you be willing to wait? Until end of term? I know it’s a couple of months, and I’m sure there are other girls, but I do really, really like you, Brian, and I agree with you that we fit really well together.” You paused, rallying courage for the last favour. “And, would you still be willing to tutor me, even if we’re not together? If you don’t want to, I understand.”

You realised that your hands were trembling and wrapped them around your tea mug to steady them.

“Yes, absolutely.”

You exhaled sharply, all your nerves disappearing at once as you looked at Brian’s soft smile across the breakfast table. “Really?”

He nodded. “Of course. And, just so you know, there… uh… there aren’t any other girls.” He reached up to scratch at his cheek, a nervous tic you’d noticed before. You raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and he shook his head no.

“Okay, if you say so,” you acquiesced. “I just find it hard to believe that a nerdy dreamboat like yourself isn’t beating them away with a stick.” You laughed as Brian stuck out his tongue at you and gently kicked your shin.

“Anyway, we should finish this and tidy up,” you waved your hands to encompass the remains of breakfast on the table, “and then do some actual studying. I mean, that was what you offered originally, was it not?”

Brian smiled wickedly, leaning forward. “Well, my original plan was to give you an orgasm for every question you got correct, but I suppose that’s going to have to wait.”

You felt dampness between your thighs and clenched your legs together, Brian laughing as you dropped your forehead to the table and groaned. These next few months were going to be hell.

Ten weeks later

You pulled open the door to the pub, blinking owlishly as your eyes struggled to adjust from the bright day to the dim lights inside. You had just finished sitting your stats exam about forty minutes prior, which Brian had not been proctoring – the guys had planned a band practise that afternoon, with a stop at the pub after. You heard someone call out your name, and squinted towards the back of the pub, to see the band, as well as Mary and Patty, all standing in front of a booth, doing a terrible job of hiding the cake behind them.

Touched, you blinked back a couple of tears. You were lucky to know such generous people, even if it looked like none of them could frost a cake properly. You walked toward them, as they stepped aside to reveal a cake which appeared to be more sparkler than pastry, as it sent bits of fire dancing over the tabletop.

You smiled, bemused. “Thank you guys, this is so sweet of you all. I’m just wondering, though, is this safe?” You gestured at the scene before you, where Roger was frantically trying to smother the sparks before they reached the upholstered benches.

“Of course not, darling. But what’s life without a little danger?” Of course that was Freddie, erring on the side of too much over too little. He stepped forward and dropped a quick kiss on your cheek. “Congratulations, we knew you could do it.”

“Aw, thanks Fred. I have to admit, it really felt a bit touch and go there for a while. I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for Brian.” You reached over, pulling Brian to your side and smiling up at him. He smiled down at you, and you felt warmth spread through your chest. As everyone took a seat again, you leaned down to blow out the sparklers and cut the cake. Patty took the knife from your hand, and nodded toward Brian.

“Go sit with your man, he’s been checking the clock since we got here, waiting for you.” She gave you a conspiratorial grin and leaned in closer. “Oh, and I’m spending the weekend with John, so the flat’s all yours until Monday.” She winked and pushed on your hip, making you stumble in Brian’s direction.

He caught you, settling you down on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into rest against him. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, listening to the conversations around you.

“You okay, love?” Brian’s voice held a note of concern.

You nodded. “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking of a way to thank you for all your help this term, and remembering back to a conversation we had a few weeks ago.”

He reached for his pint glass. “Oh, which conversation was that?”

You leaned up to whisper in his ear, “The one where you mentioned that you’d like to be tied to the bed while I had my wicked way with you, bringing you to the edge again and again but not letting you come, and then fucking you until you cried.” You sat back, and with a normal volume, asked, “Do you remember that one?”

Brian choked on his drink, setting the glass back down abruptly, then stood, pushing both of you to your feet. Everyone turned to stare at the disruption, Patty beginning to laugh as she realised what must be happening.

“We… have to go... now. We need to not be here. Goodbye everyone; Mary, thank you for the cake. Bye now. Bye!” Brian’s face was red as he made a beeline for the door, dragging you behind him. You laughed, waving to your friends as you stumbled to keep up with his long strides.

“Blimey, what’s up with those two?” you heard Roger ask, as Patty replied,

“Believe me, you don’t want to know!”

~~~~~~~

Tag List: @sweetlygwilym

#brian may #brian x reader #brian may x reader #brian may fanfiction #brian may fic #queen fanfiction #queen fic

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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE LONG WAY HOME (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

Juno Steel and the Long Way Home.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: WATER DRIPPING, RIPPLING.

THEIA: (DISTANT, OVERLAPPING) Target located. Alerting central office. Exchanging map data. Sector is clear. Recharging. Recharging.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Here’s a lesson that never sticks, no matter how many times you learn it: even when you’re not around, the world keeps movin’ without you. Never feels that way. When you leave, you take a frozen version of the place with you in your head, and that feels real, but… then you get back and find the place is melting right in front of you.

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERS, QUIET BARKS)

JUNO: Yep, I’m pretty wiped too, Small Fry. How ‘bout a snack break?

SOUND: SPLASH.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I remember these sewers as an escape, if you can believe it. When things got too rough topside I would lose myself down here, where things were simple. Where the monsters looked like monsters, big furry ones with long teeth and mean eyes. They were scary, but… that was part of the escape.

SMALL FRY: (IN BACKGROUND) (BARKS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): When you’re so young you think monsters are the scariest things out there… what could feel better than teaching the boogeyman to eat out of the palm of your hand?

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: Whatsamatter? You don’t like salmon chips?

SMALL FRY: (YIP!)

JUNO: Don’t tell me you’re picky.

SOUND: CRUNCHING, CHEWING.

(GARBLED, MOUTH FULL) Aw, man, these’ve got the freeze-dried soy dust and everything! You’re outta your mind, Small Fry.

SMALL FRY: (SNIFFS & SNORTS)

JUNO: Oh, what’s that? Now you want one?

SMALL FRY: (SNORTS)

JUNO: That’s what I thought. Take the bag, it’s yours.

SMALL FRY: (GRRRR)

JUNO: (SIGHS)

SOUND: CRUNCHING, CHEWING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I wonder sometimes if having that escape as a kid felt a little too good. Like I’d go underground and feel like all the world’s horrors could be tamed, then, come back up and think that feeling should last forever. It felt like I could make it last forever if I tried. But, things change.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

SOUND: CREAKING.

JUNO: What’s the matter, Small Fry? You hear some… thing…?

THEIA: Target sighted.

JUNO: Damn it! Get in…

…that pipe, quickly! Hide under my coat!

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLES)

THEIA: Target recognized. Target is—

JUNO: (OVER THE BELOW) Juno Steel, yeah.

THEIA: —Juno Steel. Directive: do no—

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Do no harm, Mayor O’Flaherty requests my presence, you can’t capture me nonviolently so I’m supposed to go there on my own, that it?

THEIA: (AFTER A PAUSE) This is your only—

JUNO: Right, thanks, almost forgot, this is my only warning. I’m workin’ on it now, but thanks for the reminder, bye!

THEIA: Farewell. Juno Steel.

SOUND: CREAKING FADES OUT.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) Going… going, aaaaaand gone. Psst!

Hey kid! Coast is clear!

SOUND: HEAVY CREAK.

Small Fry?

SOUND: SPLASHING.

…The hell is this?

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

Another room?

SMALL FRY: (SNORES)

JUNO: (GASPS)

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

…Oh.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The rabbit was asleep. Just… tuckered out.

Then I felt the exhaustion piling on me too, so I sat and let her nap awhile. And if I got some rest out of the bargain, so be it.

Small Fry had found a good hiding spot. The pipe I’d shoved her into led through a shattered wall, which opened up into another one of the sewer’s old chambers. Must have been a false start from some earlier construction job, walled-up so it’d just go away, but… that never kept anything hidden forever, did it?

The Theia bots were tearing this place apart, and soon one would find Small Fry. But even if they did clear out and we did get outta here, what the hell was I gonna do with her?

MUSIC: STARTS.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and that means I’m supposed to reserve my blaster for whoever pays my bills. Money hasn’t mattered to me for years, but even so, it… was a rule, and rules are comfortable.

I keep feeling like I don’t know any of the rules anymore, but… I need ‘em. Because if you try to save every sorry soul who hops into your life…

…that might make you a hero, and… right now I’m not sure there’s anything worse.

MUSIC: ENDS. STARTS (FROM COMMS).

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Welcome back to Questions Unanswered: Where is Jack Takano? Tonight’s episode: Part 11 – “The Mask.”

Jack Takano was famously a very private man: until the end of his time at Northstar, he never kept a home address on file, or spoke to anyone about his friends and family outside the company. Even his face was private, as Founder and CEO of Northstar Miranda Fairbanks wrote:

FAIRBANKS ACTOR (FROM COMMS): It was known around the office that Jack daily wore makeup thick even by Hyperion’s standards… I once came into the office quite early to find that he had fallen asleep, drooling, onto his desk and hand. It was almost sweet… until he moved that hand and a layer of skin peeled off his face, only to reveal another, much paler skin beneath. Or so it seemed, until I saw the foundation smudges on the table. When I woke him, he covered his face, mumbled something about not looking decent, and ran off to reapply. A skin condition, he told me later. I never bought it. The difference between the skin beneath and the mask over it was so extreme that it seemed like there was another man under there, buried alive.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): But even a man with a hidden face can’t hide everything. Takano may not have left an explanation for his disappearance in his famous farewell note, but his coworkers did notice a change.

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Well, we all expected something was going to happen. Just not… something that extreme.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): What about his behavior seemed like the first sign, Dr. Vega?

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Isolation, first. Irritability, some days, although he’d always apologize soon after. But I think the first unquestionable sign for me was Andromeda 3.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): If you didn’t see Andromeda 3 at release, it’s unlikely you ever will: the film was panned so universally that Northstar established an Anti-Informations Department just to erase every copy they could find. Or as one reviewer put it:

VOICE 6 (FROM COMMS): Schlock and drivel. Its characterization is so flat it approaches concave. Its pacing makes death seem a fond alternative. And worst of all, it appears Takano has no idea what made Andromeda so compelling in the first place, and what remains are only echoes of the Turbo nonsense that nearly put Northstar into its early, and perhaps deserved, grave. Takano needs to get his head out of building tourist traps and back into telling stories, because this was clearly rushed.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): The only thing atypical of this review is its lenience: the reviewer gave Andromeda 3 the highest rating we could find. But that last sentiment, that the film was rushed, is repeated by nearly every review on record, despite the fact that it is completely untrue.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): I don’t think I ever saw Jack work harder on a project. Besides the park, obviously.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): That’s Jocelyn Chen, former Head of Animation at Northstar.

MUSIC: ENDS.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): I remember seeing pages of script and sketches of Andromeda 3 a few weeks before the first film came out, but he was never satisfied. It was just rewrite after rewrite with him.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Was his process similar for Chainmail Warrior Andromeda or Sea of Sinners?

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Not at all. He had full storyboards for both ready when he first pitched the project, and he only had a month on those. But the third one… I don’t know. He kept talking about the responsibility, and… I tried to help, but, the pressure must’ve gotten to him.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): You came under fire for that film, too.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): I did.

I– I wasn’t mad at him for having writer’s block. I was mad at him for not listening earlier, for not giving us something, anyway. I had to steal his notes just so we could start work on time for a sloppy release, and… that was the only time I’ve ever heard him get angry.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): A recording of Takano’s tirade was leaked a few months after Andromeda 3’s release:

SOUND: BACKGROUND STATIC.

JACK (FROM COMMS): We are doing something important here. Am I the only one who sees that? Am I?!

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Jack, we have a deadline—

JACK (FROM COMMS): Damn the deadline! You’re exactly the problem, Jocelyn, focusing on the smallest issues when you should be solving the big ones, taking the solution now over the solution that works– DO NOT SPEAK while I am speaking!

No. Keep the damn notes. It’s too late already.

SOUND: STATIC FADES OUT.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): The company could have scrubbed this leak like they erased the film, had Takano himself not acknowledged it, in a press conference the day after it spread:

JACK (FROM COMMS): …I would like to apologize, of course. I’ve already apologized to Jocelyn, but, like it or not I’ve been thrust into the public eye; and as a result, my responsibility extends to each and every one of you.

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLES & SNORTS)

JUNO: Mmm… quit it.

SOUND: WATER DRIPPING, BUBBLING.

JACK (FROM COMMS): Three years is not a very long time to grow old, and, yet I find that, compared to the early days of Andromeda, I feel precisely—

JUNO: (OVER THE BELOW) I said quit it!

JACK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE ABOVE) —how I expected an old man must: very tired, and only slightly more wise.

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

JACK (FROM COMMS): What strikes me as most beautiful about Andromeda is how she works not just on the world, but also on herself. Tirelessly. When Andromeda discovers that her magic chainmail is empowered by the suffering of others, she sees immediately how this might corrupt her… and she steels herself against it.

I see now the power I have in Northstar. And I see the heavy responsibility that power bestows upon me. We will use it for good, from here out. For Polaris.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

SOUND: SLAP.

JUNO: (OVER THE BELOW) Damn it, Rita, I’m taking a nap, you—!

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE ABOVE) Takano’s apology was very well received—

JUNO: …Oh.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE BELOW) —as Jocelyn Chen recalls.

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Small Fry. Right.

SMALL FRY: (GROWLS)

CHEN (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE BELOW) He could do that, apologize and have all forgiven—

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) What’s the matter, kid, you hungry?

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

JUNO: What the hell? Get off me!

CHEN (FROM COMMS): —really forgiven. You could always tell he meant it, that it really had eaten him up inside. He—

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

SOUND: CLICK, COMMS CUTS OFF.

JUNO: The hell?

Did you… take my comms? Out of my ear?

SMALL FRY: (BARKS, GROWLS)

JUNO: Don’t eat it!

Well, looks like we’re awake now, doesn’t it? Here, come close. You just put it up to your ear like this, and—

SOUND: FEEDBACK SCREECH.

JUNO & SMALL FRY: (PAINED YELLS)

JUNO: God dammit, what did you do?

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERING)

JUNO: You know how long it took me to figure that thing out? Now look, it’s wet and it stinks and I can’t even listen to it and I don’t know where anybody is or what the hell I’m gonna do to keep you safe and—

SOUND: PLOP, SPLASH.

There. It’s trash now. Just like this whole stupid idea. Whatever.

SOUND: SPLASHES. DISTANT FEEDBACK.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: I told you, the comms is broken.

SOUND: FEEDBACK STOPS. ELECTRONIC SCROLLING.

JUNO: You’re just gonna hurt yourself. Make it explode or something.

SMALL FRY: (GROWLS)

SOUND: BEEPS.

JUNO: Damn it, don’t you listen?

SOUND: ALARM BEEPS.

It’s busted. See?

SOUND: JINGLE (FROM COMMS).

VOICE 7 (FROM COMMS): Welcome to your comms. Please enter your name.

JUNO: Wait, what?

SMALL FRY: (GROWLS)

JUNO: You… there’s no way you know how to use this. You can’t.

SMALL FRY: (YIPS)

JUNO: Alright, take it.

SMALL FRY: (RRRRR!)

SOUND: BEEPS.

JUNO: No. Way.

SMALL FRY: (GRRRS, YIP!)

SOUND: LOUD JINGLE (FROM COMMS).

VOICE 7 (FROM COMMS): (VERY LOUD) Bienvenue à votre comms.

JUNO: (HISS OF PAIN) Nevermind! (SIGHS)

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: But… you did have it for a second.

SOUND: BEEPS.

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLE, GROWLS)

JUNO: No, no, I’m gonna try this time.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: And, uh… thanks, Small Fry. I needed that.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO (NARRATOR): While I messed with that comms I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about Rita. She’d been telling me what Small Fry just had for years – that I didn’t need her to set everything up, that I wasn’t even trying, and… I’d yell at her that I got it, but I was just busy. And then sit alone, like an idiot, while she set up my comms, my monitor, everything.

Ma never let us have that stuff. And then I just got too proud to admit I didn’t get it, and… I got better and better at asking other people to work around me, I guess. Anyway, I… had the thing up and running again soon.

SOUND: BLIP.

JACKET (FROM COMMS): We may look backward only to ensure we have not walked this path before.

JUNO: Yeah, thanks, big guy.

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: Just… give me one more minute.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Maybe I’d gone mad with power, but… I had an idea, and I was hungry for another win. I knew the comms could get on the net, and I knew the sewer system’s layout was a public document. The rest was just guesswork. Learning and mistakes.

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

JUNO: (GROWLS)

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

Aghhhh!

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): …a whole lot of mistakes. But, still.

It took me an hour to do what Rita could’ve done in two seconds, but, I was proud of it.

SOUND: BEEP.

JUNO: Ha! Got it! Look, it’s a map, and I think I found a manhole that’ll take us…

SMALL FRY: (SNORES)

JUNO: …out of the… sewer.

Hey. Hey, c’mon, Small Fry. C’mon.

SMALL FRY: (SNUFFLES AWAKE)

JUNO: We gotta go, kid. I think I found a way out of here. And after that…

We’ll have to figure that out together, I guess.

SMALL FRY: (MEWLS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I split the comms so I could carry it in my hand and my ear at the same time. It was gonna be a hike to get to that manhole leading out of the sewer, and… to Oldtown.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (FADING IN) The year between Andromeda 3’s release and the opening of Polaris Park marked a shift in how Northstar was run. Takano removed himself from the film production process completely, hiring previously-terminated Northstar writer Kenni Okombe and rock-star-slash-poet Rajavi to co-write Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak, based on some of Takano’s early sketches. In the meantime, Jack Takano redoubled his efforts on Polaris Park, and though he spent many, many hours in that office – staying for days or weeks on end, according to some – his coworkers saw him less than ever.

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Always in his office. It was as though we’d taken on a staff hermit. (LAUGHS) Not that it was a funny situation, of course, Jack was clearly troubled. But, well… we all just thought that if the tortured genius needs his space, give him his space.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Many of Takano’s former coworkers expressed similar sentiments. But not Jocelyn Chen.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Everyone always said yes to Jack, and it wasn’t good for him. So when he started hiding, working himself sick, all that… I wasn’t having it, and I said so.

He gave me some line… something about how he had to figure out the problem by himself, that he couldn’t compromise on the park any more than he already had. And I said, “Jack, you can take all your toys, and go hide in your room if you want. But if you keep working like this, you’re going to get yourself killed, and—”

After that… after I said that, he just… looked at me and waited. Like I hadn’t gotten to my point yet. Like that wasn’t even enough reason t—

Anyway. I ended the conversation there, because I wasn’t getting anywhere. But clearly he wasn’t done.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Ms. Chen is referring to a public charity event at which Takano spoke to raise funds for Martian fire departments. Though the speech was largely typical of his optimistic oratory, there was a tangent that was met with confusion in the press:

JACK (FROM COMMS): But the most beautiful thing about Andromeda, I think, is… that she always goes it alone. She recognizes that heroism is a blessing for the world and a curse for the hero, who must live with the weight of every decision they make, the pain of every loss they fail to prevent. And yet she never stops. And she never shares this burden with another, because she knows it is better for one to suffer than two. Goodness is her charge. And she lives up to it alone.

CHEN (FROM COMMS): Which isn’t even true. Aries, the Ramblers, Captain Cancer, Queen Pisces – by that point, Andromeda had relied on others twice a movie! Well, minus Andromeda 3, but… (SIGHS)

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Jack never spoke to me directly about his design problem, but I could see it amongst the lines, as it were. Something at the core of Polaris Park had gone wrong for him, somewhere. Some of his work orders implied that the problem had come from compromises he’d made, and so he tried hiding the gift shops, changing the logo so that ‘Polaris’ was much larger than ‘Park,’ that kind of thing. Then a week later, all those orders would be undone, and he clearly felt that the problem came earlier than his compromises… from the park’s initial contraception, perhaps.

I knew that he expected me to decode that subtext. I like to think I was rather a confidant for him in that way – the only one he could undress even part of his heart to.

SOUND: WATER DRIPPING, RIPPLING FADES IN. DISTANT BOOM.

SMALL FRY: (BARK BARK!)

JUNO: Huh?

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Despite Dr. Vega’s claims, the work orders we’ve unearthed state Takano’s frustrations directly to every head of every department. Polaris Park was not doing what it was supposed to – though Takano was never clear about what its actual purpose was.

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM.

JUNO: What the hell was—

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

HAWK (FROM COMMS): And as Takano tried to solve it—

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM.

—the days to Polaris Park’s opening – and the man’s disappearance—

SOUND: TWO DISTANT BOOMS.

—drew closer and closer.

SMALL FRY: (BARK BARK!)

SOUND: CLICK, COMMS CUTS OFF.

JUNO: Shhh!

JUNO (NARRATOR): We were close to the exit by then. There was just one last pipe we had to pass through, one big enough to stand and walk in. We hadn’t heard a Theia bot in half an hour; it was quiet here.

Until that thumping started, down at the end of the pipe.

SOUND: DISTANT BOOMS.

As quickly as I could I searched the wall around me for weak spots – cracks, openings, anywhere at all to hide – but there were none. This thing had picked the one solid spot left in the entire Oldtown sewer system to corner us.

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERS)

SOUND: DISTANT BOOM.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) Get behind me, kid, it’s alright. You’re gonna be alright.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The noise kept coming. I tried to make a plan: hide Small Fry in the sludge and try to talk my way out? No, the Theia bots were chatty, and she couldn’t hold her breath that long. Take a shot at it before it saw us? Maybe, but I doubted I could connect without a Theia on my side.

It got closer.

SOUND: SPLASH.

And closer. And then it rounded the corner.

SOUND: SPLASH.

?????: (GROWLS, PANTING)

SMALL FRY: (YIPS & BARKS)

JUNO: A rabbit…? Alive?

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

RABBIT: (GROWL-BARKS)

JUNO: You know him. You know that rabbit, don’t you?

SMALL FRY: (YIPS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): So, that was it, then. Some of the rabbits were alive. I’d brought Small Fry home, and… I felt just… awful.

Looking into her big black eyes, one hand on her matted fur, I realized I already cared about this little rabbit. Protecting her made me feel useful, and loved, and… it was hard to put that away.

I let myself live in maybes for a second. A little rabbit munching snack food under my desk. A big one asleep in the corner of my office – ‘the muscle,’ I’d call her, but really… her name would be Small Fry. Even when she got huge.

I never really would’ve taken her, not really; but… it was nice to pretend, for a second.

JUNO: You can trust that big fella over there?

SMALL FRY: (BARK!)

JUNO: Then go home, kid.

Go home.

SOUND: SPLASHING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I watched her hop away. She seemed… happy.

RABBIT: (IN BACKGROUND) (GROWLS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): And that’s when the big rabbit ran over and socked me in the face.

RABBIT: (ROARS)

SOUND: PUNCH.

JUNO: Oof!

SOUND: BIG SPLASH.

H-hey, come on! I know you were scared, but—

SOUND: PUNCH, SPLASH.

Oof!

The hell do you want from me? Money? I got creds, but you have to get off me—

RABBIT: (ROARS, GROWLS)

SOUND: PUNCHES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how the rabbits were. They’d never turn down creds and they never made those noises and they were never… this angry.

I reached for my blaster. But the rabbit had a desperate quickness I’d never seen before and in a second my gun was spinning over his shoulder.

RABBIT: (ROARRRRRR)

SOUND: PUNCH. PLOP.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The rabbit reared back to howl. He still had crumbs and frosting in his fur, big soft belly for scratching, just like all the rabbits I knew. But this one was burned, too. Charred trenches of fur and skin running along his sides, part of one ear gone.

And he looked… so scared. Pissed-off and powerless; like if he couldn’t pin down and punch all those Theia bots, or the human race, or death itself… he was ready to settle for me.

I still had my plasma knife, but I couldn’t stab him. I couldn’t let Ramses make me kill again.

RABBIT: (ROARS)

SMALL FRY: (SQUEAKING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): Small Fry ran up to the rabbit and tugged on his tail. The rabbit nearly jumped out of his fur, and didn’t even look behind him before he kicked one of those huge legs back at the kid.

RABBIT: (RAHHH!)

SOUND: PUNCH. PLOP, SPLASH.

SMALL FRY: (WHIMPERING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I’ve never seen a rabbit do that. This rabbit had never seen it, either. Looked like he’d spend the rest of his life wishing he hadn’t. Then he turned, and I saw that he was ready to blame it all on me.

RABBIT: (PANTING, BIG HOWL)

JUNO (NARRATOR): A few months ago I might’ve let him, too. That’s what a hero’s for, right? Taking all the hits so the innocent don’t have to, while the ones causing all the pain sit in the stands and watch, blood and popcorn butter sticky on their fingertips.

I was done with that. Instead, I was gonna give the rabbit some advice. So I turned the volume on my comms all the way up.

SOUND: INCREASINGLY LOUDER BEEPS.

RABBIT: (ROARRRR)

JUNO (NARRATOR): And right when he was about to crush my skull… I jammed my comms into his ear and pressed play.

SOUND: FEEDBACK SCREECH. BLIP.

JACKET (FROM COMMS): (VERY LOUD, OVER THE BELOW) We may look backward only to ensure we have not walked this path before.

RABBIT: (OVER THE ABOVE) (HOWL OF PAIN)

SOUND: BLIP. SPLASH.

JUNO: Whaddaya know? Looks like that advice just saved my life, too.

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

Stay down, cottontail. I’m not kidding.

SOUND: LOW ELECTRIC HUM.

(OVER THE BELOW) See this? Plasma knife. Real hot; real sharp. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you come any closer, I’ll have to.

RABBIT: (OVER THE ABOVE) (GROWLS)

JUNO: Take the kid and go. This’ll kill you, you understand? Dead.

Stop! Neither one of us wants this!

RABBIT: (BIG GROWL)

JUNO (NARRATOR): But he kept running towards me. And he knew he wouldn’t win. I’m just not sure he cared.

He was almost on top of me. I knew I’d do it if I had to, and… that’s when I heard the first shot.

SOUND: BIG BLASTER SHOT. ELECTRIC WHIR.

THEIA: (AFTER A PAUSE) Targets detected.

SOUND: CREAKING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): A big Theia bot stood in front of me and its first laser sizzled in the wall behind.

The bot had Small Fry pinned between a wall and the end of its cannon.

SMALL FRY: (BARKING)

JUNO: Dammit, no, no, no…!

RABBIT: (GROWLS)

THEIA: Come closer. Rabbit.

JUNO: …What?

RABBIT: (GROWL?)

THEIA: Come closer. I will tell you. When. To stop.

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

Closer. Just. A little closer. Real close. There.

SMALL FRY: (YIP!)

SOUND: PLOP.

THEIA: Your little one.

SMALL FRY: (BARKS, MEWLS)

RABBIT: (GRRRRRR)

THEIA: Now please leave. And be careful. Bunnies.

SMALL FRY: (BARKS)

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS FADE.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The two ran, and Small Fry never looked back. I was proud of her. We may look backward only to ensure we have not walked this path before, right? Wherever those rabbits were going, whatever home awaited them… they’d definitely never been there before.

THEIA: You. Stay there.

SOUND: CREAKING.

JUNO: (HEAVY BREATHING)

SOUND: CREAKING STOPS. HISS OF STEAM.

THEIA: Are you injured. User. Mista Steel.

JUNO: Mista…

(STARTS LAUGHING, OVER THE BELOW)

THEIA: Because. Um. Ramses wants to see you aboveground. And. Somethin’ somethin’. No. Don’t say. Somethin’ somethin’. Say—

JUNO: Rita?!

THEIA: —somethin’, you—

JUNO: Rita, is that really you?

THEIA: No. I’m. Um. What’s this thing called. Tara. Teyona. Let me. Look it up.

JUNO: Rita! God, I am glad to see… whatever the hell robot this is.

THEIA: This is. The Theo’s Spectacles.

JUNO: Wait– you yelled at the bot for saying “somethin’ somethin’,” which means you must be able to hear it.

THEIA: Nuh-uh.

JUNO: Rita…

THEIA: Who’s that. She sounds nice.

JUNO: Just drop the joke, alright? I’ve been looking for you for days, I’m filthy, I’m tired, so just tell me where the hell you are!

THEIA: Oh. Does it make you worried. Not knowing. Where very pretty user. Rita is?

JUNO: Rita, I said—

THEIA: ‘Cause maybe. Then. She should disappear for weeks instead. Not say anything. ‘Cause that would definitely make you. Less worried. And not way more worried. Ain’t that right. Boss?

JUNO: (AFTER A PAUSE) Oh, I…

(QUIETLY) What did I do?

Rita, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

…Rita?

THEIA: The Theia Order. Is shutting. Down.

SOUND: POWERING DOWN.

JUNO: Rita? Rita?!

…No.

Please…

SOUND: THUMPING ON METAL.

No! Damn it, no! No!

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Rita; and, I know that’s not enough. I know how sour a sorry tastes when it comes from someone who’s apologized before and never changed a thing. I know you’ve got no reason to believe me, but…

SOUND: METAL CLUNK.

Please don’t leave me here, Rita. You’ve got every reason to, but… I’m tryin’ to get better. I really want to get better, maybe for the first time in my life since the HCPD, and… I’m just so scared that it’s too late, and everybody’s already smartened up and gone, and maybe you should, but please, please—

RITA: Hi Mista Steel.

JUNO: (YELPS, PANTING) How long were you behind me?

RITA: Just for the last ‘please please.’ I miss anything you wanna say again?

JUNO: I, uh…

I’m sorry, Rita. I’m just… so sorry. It won’t happen again.

…Rita?

SOUND: THWUMP.

Oof!

RITA: I missed you, boss. I was real worried.

JUNO: I know. I hear you. For once. (DEEP BREATH) And I missed you too, Rita. Really.

RITA: (SNIFFLING)

JUNO: What? What’s the matter?

RITA: (SNIFFING/CHOKING BACK TEARS) We just… ain’t never hugged this long before, boss. (SWALLOWS) It’s nice.

JUNO: Oh. Yeah, it’s…

(CLEARS THROAT) Anyway, uh… I got a map, and it says there should be a way out just over—

RITA: Oh, yeah. The whole system’s bein’ shifted around, boss. None’a your maps are gonna work anymore.

JUNO: Shifted around for what?

RITA: Oldtown, I guess. But anyway, I figured out the way up before I even came down here because you know me, Mista Steel, I’m all for an adventure but as soon as it’s one that might get one’a my three S’s wet, I gotta get in and out. That’s right, my shoes, snacks, and salmon sausage snacks, so—

JUNO: You know a way up?

RITA: I do! Wanna go see? I was hopin’ we’d be able to bring that big puppet I hacked into with us, but it ain’t exactly gonna fit through the manhole. Or up the ladder, which I learned ‘cause at first I had two ways out but then I broke one, you’re never gonna believe how, boss, it was—

JUNO: With the big robot, right. Listen, Rita, I want to hear that whole story, I really do, but can we do it someplace we’re not covered in slime?

RITA: That’s a great idea, boss. This way.

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): (FADING IN) …let’s look at that moment one more time. Opening day at Polaris Park. Moments after Takano’s last employee check-in. The silent, solitary moment in which his departure flipped from an idea to an action.

We can’t know what he was thinking in those moments. And in the end, trying to understand every minute detail of the departed’s psyche tells us more about ourselves, in many ways, than about them. Just ask Lorenzo Vega:

VEGA (FROM COMMS): Jack was… a perfectionist. He’d made so many compromises with his park, had seen his vision so diluted. One can only conclude that the sight of it, his creation so malformed… who wouldn’t leave?

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Or Jocelyn Chen:

CHEN (FROM COMMS): He was a visionary, and that meant he had no idea what he was doing. He could help us up to greatness, but him? His sights were always going to be aimed up about a dozen feet over where he ended up, and he was always going to be bored by whatever he made. Always.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): Or Miranda Fairbanks, who wrote in her memoir:

FAIRBANKS ACTOR (FROM COMMS): Humanity needs people like Jack, I think. People who can just see how things should be, without the reality of what they are getting in the way. That’s how progress happens. And so I assume he must have seen the true way forward somewhere other than us… and run towards it.

JUNO: This ladder?

RITA: Mm-hmm.

SOUND: GRUNTS, METAL CLANKING.

HAWK (FROM COMMS): We’ve presented you with theories over these many hours, but we will probably never know why Jack Takano left us behind. The only clue we have is the audio note found in his office, once he was gone. And to conclude our program, we will play it in full.

MUSIC: STARTS (FROM COMMS).

JACK (FROM COMMS): The thing I find most beautiful about Andromeda, in the end, is this: that she can never be satisfied. I wonder now, if Orion’s curse wasn’t really a blessing for our Homeless Hero. He turned her from a protector of one city, to an active force of good the world over.

RITA: (OVERLAPPING WITH THE END OF ABOVE) What’s the holdup, boss?

JUNO: Found the manhole cover.

JACK (FROM COMMS): To find home—

JUNO: (GRUNTS)

SOUND: METAL SCRAPING.

JACK (FROM COMMS): (OVER THE ABOVE) —Andromeda always looks backwards. Polaris. Nostalgia. The paradise left behind. And this works in our stories, when we only show the shining city for a few seconds at a time. But in life, no such place exists.

RITA: Mista Steel?

JACK (FROM COMMS): If it did—

RITA: Mista Steel?

JACK (FROM COMMS): —we would already live there.

JUNO: This… this isn’t Oldtown.

RITA: I’m pretty sure it is, boss. I counted paces an’ everything.

JUNO: No. The map’s right. I’m happy to explain in a minute, Rita, just as soon as I get this cannon out of my face.

THEIA: Remove yourselves. From. The sewer. Help. Is on the way.

JACK (FROM COMMS): But there may yet be such a home. I believe we can find it. But we cannot turn our heads if it is not what we expected, or if we fear what we see when it opens its gates.

RITA: Oh no oh no oh no—

THEIA: Now put your hands up. Please.

JACK (FROM COMMS): Home is not in the past. It can’t be. And that means when we find home, when we find the perfect place we yearn for… I doubt we will even recognize it.

RITA: What is this place? What happened to Oldtown?

JUNO: Says it right there on the sign, Rita.

“Welcome to Newtown: The City of the Future.”

JACK (FROM COMMS): And so now I leave. I go now to seek the true way home, as any hero should. And I urge you to do the same. Or, at least, to accept it when it comes. I look forward to meeting you there. Jack Takano.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actor Matthew Zahnzinger and co-creators Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SOPHIE: …There’s not anything more to it than it’s like, yeah, well I thought of it, and I’m smart, and how do I know that? Well, ‘cause I’m me, I just know.

KEVIN: Mmhmm.

SOPHIE: And there’s nobody… above him to tell him, y’know. And there’s no way of knowing for sure… what is good.

MATTHEW: Although to that point, and, to get… back on my bandwagon of every commentary complimenting Kevin’s writing, um—

SOPHIE: Could you compliment me a little bit, for once?

MATTHEW: (LAUGHING)

SOPHIE: What is this?!

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: 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 further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Minchowski, Camille Blanton, Christine Kim, Rowan Collins, Garrett M, Jay Iannuzzelli, Karin Z-H, Canteloupe, Fiona Parker, Regan, Ko, Kim Zeugin, Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, and Jaimie Gunter for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Long Way Home, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Matthew Zahnzinger as Jack Takano and Ramses O’Flaherty, Marge Dunn as Hawk Hackett, Bob Mussett as Lorenzo Vega, Melissa Barker as Jocelyn Chen, Allison Choat as the Miranda Fairbanks reader, Sophie Kaner as the Theia and Small Fry, and Kate Jones as Rita.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel #i miss small fry

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lixxen · 6 years

Text

Scales and Feathers: Two

Lance stared at Coran for a second before he shakes his head.

“No! That can’t be. My Papa is alive! On earth!” Lance tried to deny what Coran had said.

“My boy. It’s okay to deny it at first, but I’m telling the truth. Sometimes we are lied to to keep us safe.” Coran put his hand onto Lance’s shoulder. “I promise you we can help you. Do you want to go to the medbay and we can run a diagnostic on you?”

Lance slowly nodded and reached his arms out to Coran, who accepted the boy in his arms. Lance sniffled as he hugged onto Coran, almost like his life depended on it. He could feel Coran’s hands moving across his back, trying to sooth the young boy. After a few minutes of solacing, Lance slowly let go and looked up to Coran’s eyes.

Coran smelt like cinnamon and spices. It was odd, knowing that Coran was very sweet and caring. But Lance liked his smell. It fit his almost grandmother or loving feeling well.

“Let’s go test my body.” Lance spoke out.

“Let’s go.” Coran put his hand on Lance’s elbow and lead him out.

As they walked through the castle, Lance thought of everything that has happened within the last few months. It was odd. His whole life seemed to be like a pre-chosen adventure that he had no say in. Lance wondered if he tried to stray from his path, if it would just yank him back into place.

“Lance,” Coran started.

“Yes?” Lance broke his thought to reply, looking up.

“Do you want to tell the Princess? She will need to know so she can arrange for everything to be ready when we get there. The other four do not have to know yet.” Coran turned his gaze from the hallway to Lance.

“Yeah… it’ll be better if she knew. It would help a lot.” Lance nodded and allowed Coran to open the door for him.

When Lance entered, he recognized the room as a more fancied up version of the room the Paladins found the Alteans in. It just had more privacy and counters in it. There was also screens on the walls. Lance had wondered if there was any hidden compartments anywhere.

“Alright… I’m going to bring a pod up. You will go in for five minutes and when you come out it’ll tell us everything we need to know.” Coran announced and started to type away on one of the small monitor screens.

It took a minute for Coran to start up the program, but the pod eventually came up and Lance stepped inside. The pod closed and Lance could feel the temperature drop as the pod did also.

Coran watched the pod go down and started the test. He watched as the information came in and kept tabs on Lance’s vitals. He didn’t know if the Altean technology would be good on Humans, so if the boy’s heartbeat dropped or something went haywire he would know. Some of the data that he could see seemed normal, other than a few random strands of information popping up, warning him of dangers. Once the screen made a ping, the pod came back up and Coran opened it so Lance could come out.

Lance was fine when he came out, just rather cold. He let Coran sit him down onto the table and he picked at a loose scale as Coran went to the com system.

“Princess, can you come down to Medbay quickly? Alone.” Coran spoke into the com quietly.

“I will be up in a minute. I’m cooking with Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk. Just let me wash my hands.” Allura responded and the communication ended there.

It didn’t take long for Allura to get there, and when she did, Lance could see she looked concerned. Her hair was put up in a bun and she was wearing her pajamas. Her smell was of old books and fruit. She felt like a powerful being and sometimes it made Lance want to cower in her very presence.

“Is everything okay?” She then saw Lance. “Lance?”

“Hey, Princess.” Lance tried to offer a small smile.

“What’s going on?” Allura shut the door to Medbay behind her and walked into the center of the room.

“I found out that Lance is Hafmey and Zog from his father’s side.” Coran put Lance’s genetics up on a large screen. “You see? He’s also human so he won’t have his tail unless he wills it in water, unlike normal half-breeds between the species.”

“Oh…” Allura looked to Lance. “Did you know about this?”

“No.” Lance answered truthfully. “I was just told I was special as a child. We’re assuming my father died when I was young.”

“Dead?” Allura frowned.

“It’s because he never his his final puberty. Usually Hafmey go through multiple puberties. The one that is like human puberty, then their wings grow in, and then they usually go through a sort of puberty where their wings get their new feathers.” Coran explained. “But Lance was never around an adult to trigger the biological chain. His wings are most likely there, but they aren’t fully there.”

“That’s not good.” Allura sighed. “It’s a good thing we’re near their home planet. I can contact them and see if they would let Lance spend a week down there so he can go through his final pubertys and be healthy.”

“Allura… we don’t have to.” Lance bit his lip. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Lance... My father made me learn about a good amount of other species and cultures out there. I know how painful this must be for you.” She paused and put a hand to Lance’s face, brushing the tips of her fingers over the barely there scars of the scale’s placements. “Wait… how come we don’t see your scales?”

“He removes them carefully.” Coran pulls up a diagram of lance and there's red areas on his neck, face, arms, and parts of his legs. There are a few yellow parts also. “The red parts are where he removes them. It’s starting to damage him. He has obviously done this since he was younger but I assume now that he’s not with his sibling, his body isn’t just healing itself normally.”

Allura’s eyes seemed to be dissecting the diagram before the dissected Lance.

“You can’t do this anymore.” She finalized her decision. “You’re going. They’re wonderful people and they will help.”

“Princess-” Lance tries to interrupt and talk against it, but Allura cuts him off.

“And that is final.” Her face goes dead serious and Lance is afraid for a second that he had done wrong, but Allura then smiled and pats his cheek.

“Alright…” Lacne sighs.

“Good! Now, I’m going to go send a message to planet Amanzi and tell them we are on our way and the situation.” And with that, Allura left the Medbay swiftly.

Lance stared down at the floor once she left and let everything settle in.

He was going to have to accept this. He was going to get his wings and he was going to meet his people. He was going into a culture he had no idea to act in and it was terrifying. How did they all act? How did they speak? Lance had no idea and it scared him. He was also going to have body changes and that was terrifying.

Oh god how was the others going to react?! Will he still be on Voltron-

“Lance, breathe my boy.” Coran had walked up to Lance and put a hand onto his back. “It’s okay.”

Coran was correct. Lance was okay.

“Thank you, Coran. Are you sure you weren’t a dad once? I know you raised Allura but still. You’re like a dad or a fun uncle.” Lance smiled at Coran and accepted a hug that was offered.

“Thank you. And I’m sure if I had a child I would have known.” Coran chuckled. “Now let's get you back to your room.”

Lance nodded and allowed Coran to walk him back after shutting everything down.

“Hey, Pidge.”

Pidge looked up from their computer to see Shiro standing in their doorway.

“Yeah, Shiro? Need something?” Pidge pushed their glasses closer to their eyes and smiled.

“I want to know more about Lance.” Shiro walked in and awkwardly sat to the side as the door slid shut.

“Lance? Well, it depends on what you need to know.” Pidge shrugged and started to type on their laptop again. It was odd that Shiro had come asking about Lance. Shiro seemed to keep to himself other than Voltron stuff and Keith.

“Is he okay? Like… any medical issues? I saw him walking out of there after Allura was called down.” Shiro was fidgeting in the corner of Pidge’s eyesight.

“Mmm… He has a lot of back pain. That’s really it. I think he has odd scars on his arms and neck if that counts. He says it's from growing up on a farm though.” Pidge shrugged. They never really thought about Lance’s odd medical history. “He might have issues with his skin though. He is obsessed with skin care and never really shows his skin.”

Pidge looked up and leaned on their laptop, watching Shiro as he stared at the wall.

“Would he tell us if there was something else? Like life threatening?” This made Pidge frown.

“You obviously don’t know Lance that well, Shiro.” Pidge sighed and rubbed their forehead. “Lance would probably die before he told us that there was something wrong with him. He doesn’t want people to worry about him. Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. But Allura and Coran know.” Shiro slowly got back up.

“And the Medbay has anything that has happened!” Pidge snapped. Shiro suddenly questioning things made Pidge worry. Was their friend actually okay? Was he hiding things from them.

“Exactly.” Shiro smiled. “But I’m going to go see Lance and make sure he’s okay.”

Pidge waved the Black Paladin away and started to grab their laptop and ran off.

Lance groaned as he jumped onto the counter next to Hunk as Hunk cooked.

“Hunk! Do you think the next planet we go to will have human like food? I’m sick of goo and odd things that don’t like food.” Lance complained. He actually didn’t mind the food half of the time, but he wanted a good burger.

“I don’t know, but that’d be nice.” Hunk sent a small smile to Lance as he tried to read a partially translated recipe.

“What are you making, anyways?” Lance leaned over and his eyes scanned the pages. “And why is it taking you so long to read a single paragraph? Can’t you read that?”

“Some odd dish that Allura suggested I try and make. Said it’d help us get used to some food from a planet we might stop by. And no. Can you?” Hunk sighs.

“Yeah… it’s not that hard.” Lance rolled his eyes then stopped. “Wait we’re stopping somewhere?”

“Something with an A at the beginning. She said it was diplomatic and we needed to stop to get something important.” Hunk shrugged and noticed that Lance was on edge. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“Nothing, really. Just the last time we did that they tried to kill us.” Lance faked that his reason was why he was on edge. Allura was trying to get him ready for food that he’ll have to eat for a while.

“Well, since you can read it, can you help?” Hunk tilted the book towards him. “And how did you know this language?”

“Of course I can help, man.” Lance smiled and started to scan over the things and he tried to match the ingredients. “And my Mama taught me it. Maybe they had made contact with earth once and Cuba was where they did it? I dunno.”

“That’s cool, man.” Hunk smiled and watched Lance move about. “Now let’s make this.”

The food ended up being some type of fish meal, but they had to use some type of space flavoring and space tofu to make it close enough. It didn’t seem that bad actually.

Lance could hear footsteps from the hallway and became alert.

“Hey, guys.” It was just Shiro.

“Hey! You want to try some food that me and Lance made?” Hunk offered and Shiro nodded.

“Sure. But I actually came to talk to Lance. I saw him coming from the Medbay with Allura and Coran.” Shiro accepted the leafy and meaty food and slowly tried it. He seemed to approve.

“Oh! I was getting checked up, my back was hurting. And Coran wanted help with studying some allies and their biology.” Lance shrugged before biting into his food. He liked it. He could get used to it.

“Oh, so nothing bad? That’s good. I was worried.” Shiro pat Lance’s head and Lance could feel himself heat up.

Lance looked up to Shiro and thrived for his attention in his core. Shiro was comfortable smelling and smelt like incense. His general feeling was powerful and like he captured all of the attention in the room. It was odd. His very presence could fight Allura’s and most likely win if Allura wasn’t in the spotlight. He oozed confidence and caring. But Shiro also smelt of sickness at times. Like death could snatch the rug from under his feet. It made Lance slightly stir crazy and want to ask him so many questions. Almost like Keith’s new scent.

“Thanks, I appreciate the worrying.” Lance smiled and leaned into the pats before going back to focusing on his food.

“Can’t have anything bad happening to one of the saviors of the universe.” Shiro finished his food. “But seriously, Lance. If anything happens or is wrong, tell us. We’re your family, Lance. We all stick together.”

Lance could feel the pull of the sentiment from the words and he bit his lip. They were all his family. They all cared for him. He belonged.

“Thank you.” Lance smiled and reached out to hug Shiro briefly before letting go. “I’m going to bring Keith his food. He’ll probably just work out through dinner again.”

“You sure you don’t want me to?” Shiro frowned.

“Nah, I have to get used to him still anyways.” That was a lie. Just like Shiro, Keith’s presence demanded attention. His scent had become sharper and more spicy over the years and it had an attitude and natural scents that made Lance want to shove his face into Keith’s chest and just live there forever. Lance didn’t know what was wrong with him anymore because of it.

“Alright. I wish you luck.” Shiro ruffled his hair before leaving and Hunk looked to Lance and sighed.

“Dude, just admit it that you feel bad for accidently making him think your name was Taylor and him not realizing you were trying to befriend him at the Garrison and now he’s upset and humiliated.” Hunk called him out.

“Oh shush!” Lance smacked Hunk and picked up the plate and turned away. “Half of it was your fault! You never corrected him!”

Back in the Garrison, because Lance would say one of his catchphrases constantly, Keith thought his name was Taylor.

“Still think its funny.” Hunk laughed as he moved away and Lance moved towards the training deck and away from his devious best friend.

It took him a good minute or two to reach the training deck. Lance could hear the sounds of Keith fighting the robots from down the hallway, and when he opened the door, he was hit with the smell of Keith. It was overpowering at first, but Lance knocked himself back into reality before he could stray off.

“Hey! Brought you some food.” Lance called out as he went and placed it on a bench near Keith’s bag. “Me and Hunk made food from a planet we’re going to stop by. Better eat it while it's hot.”

Keith slowed his movements down until he reached the end of the training cycle.

“Stop!” Keith called out and the training came to a stop.

Keith turned and locked eyes with Lance. He held Lance’s gaze before he sighed and walked over.

“Thanks…” Keith huffed.

“You’re welcome. We can’t have you dying on us.” Lance cracked a smile and a small laugh.

“I wouldn’t die automatically.” Keith snorted.

“Yeah. I know, buddy.” Lance turned to the door and stretched. “Still. Gotta keep your body functional at least.”

“Well… thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Keith.” And Lance left the room while he could still keep his thoughts straight.

Brown eyes looked over the information displayed in front of them. It was odd and they didn’t recognize a lot of the words on the screen, but they understood a good portion of it.

“That’s… odd.” They mumbled. “Humans aren’t like this…”

#scales and feathers #lance mcclain

13 notes · View notes

readerwinterbarnes · 6 years

Text

Motionless-21/22

Bucky x Reader, OC’s, Avengers

Summary: The team meet the twins and Bucky makes connections to give Y/N the best wedding she deserves.

Word Count: 5,322

Warnings: Time skips, babies, a wedding, just a shit ton of fluff, and a little smutty extra ;)

A/N: Bet you thought this was the last part huh? Don’t give your hopes up...this will be the last part, then the epilogue!! Plus they’re finally tying the knot!!! It took them only, what, 21 parts to get to this point. I LOVE reading your comments, they are what keeps me going! Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about this story either! :) Btw this will be Bucky’s POV

Here’s the previous part: Part 20

I left the room quietly, letting the twins sleep, while momma watched their chests rise with every breath. Y/N was exhausted from the ordeal, but we were both very happy. Not only did we have two very healthy babies, we finally had names chosen.

We both decided we wanted ones that had meaning but was unique as well. I thought back to the time when I was in hiding from both Hydra and SHIELD in Romania for two years. There were so many beautiful names there, ones that you never heard here in the states. When I suggested some to Y/N, she was more than happy with the choices. The group all looked towards me as I entered the room, jumping to their feet to hear the news.

“Well? Don’t leave us hanging old man.” Clint was bouncing on his feet with excitement. Everyone else was just as excited, I couldn’t help but smile wetly at them.

“They’re all healthy, Darian Razeem and Sorina Mumina Barnes...are fuckin’ perfect. They’re more than perfect…” I didn’t bother to wipe away the tears, I was too ecstatic to care.

“What do their names mean, Buck? They don’t sound like ones you’d hear every day.” Steve asked curiously.

“Darian Razeem, means gift, lion’s roar.” I laugh softly, remembering when he came out kicking and screaming. “He was the loudest of the two. Sorina Mumina, Sun, lovely sweet girl. They’re uh...names I heard in...in Romania.” I rub the back of my neck nervously, knowing that wasn’t an easy time for Steve.

“They’re beautiful, Yasha,” Nat came up to me and kissed my forehead, “they have the best dad they could ever ask for.” I smiled at her, feeling blessed with the tiny bundles of life we were given.

Two weeks have passed and I was sitting in the nursery with the twins reading as they slept. Y/N talked with both Helen, Bruce, Tony and I about her decision about surgery. It wasn’t a difficult one to make and she trusted them with her life. So plans were set into motion to have her go through surgery to replace the device in her spine. She wanted to walk, run, and swim again. No longer having to rely on a chair to get her to places, but to actually use her own legs. They were more than happy to do this again for her. Y/N didn’t want me to worry and said it would be best if I just stayed with the twins, so that way my stress levels weren’t bad.

That was a few days ago though, now Y/N was laying in bed resting from having to start physical therapy again. But things were looking good, she can walk on her own again. Now, she just had to regain the strength she lost. That didn’t prevent her from doing stuff, however, she was very determined.

I looked up when I noticed someone standing in the doorway, I smiled as Y/N walked towards me wearing nothing but some boy shorts and one of my shirts that landed mid-thigh. I wrapped my arms around her as she straddled my lap, resting hers on my shoulders. Sliding my hands under the shirt wanting to feel her skin against my hands.

“You, baby doll are supposed to be resting. I don’t see this as resting.” I said sternly, but I couldn’t stay serious for long, for she was pouting.

“It’s hard to when you’re not there, my personal heater is gone. Can’t sleep when you’re not there to keep me warm.” I smiled at her, pulling her in for a soft kiss. Breathing out softly as Y/N tucked her face into the crook of my neck, her breaths matching mine.

“Let’s get to bed then love, the twins are dreaming and are out like a light.” I held her close to me, breathing her scent in. Burying my nose into her skin, feeling at peace.

“Mmm…” I chuckled at how she was already starting to doze off. Holding onto the back of her thighs I stood up. She locked her ankles together as we headed back to our room to sleep. I stripped down to my boxers and tucked Y/N into my side as we drifted off from a long day. Little did she know I had a huge surprise for her in the works and I couldn’t wait for that day to come.

Y/N was off doing her physical therapy again, this time working on her legs from what I was told. Darian and Sorina were busy playing with Clint and Natasha, more like Clint making faces, Nat smiling at his antics and the twins just laughing, while she recorded it on her phone. It was hard to believe that a month has already passed us by.

Y/N was getting stronger every day, the twins were growing and my nightmares lessened to only twice a week. However, there were still days where I needed to be watched carefully so I wouldn’t relapse or fall back on the urges the new serum created. But I was on the mend, with the help of Tony and Bruce. But what kept me going, was Y/N, she was always there for me and reminded me of how good our lives were now. So it made those days easier.

I was currently doing extra tests for Bruce and Tony to add more to their data. I wanted to know how far I to push myself in order for me to feel something. To know my limits and how far I had to go until I almost broke. I didn’t want to have to live through that nightmare ever again. Steve obviously didn’t approve of this, but thankfully kept his mouth shut about it and accompanied me anyways.

While the monitors took in my heart rate, oxygen levels and what the serum was doing, I was still running on the treadmill with weights attached to my waist. Steve standing off to the side watching as the numbers kept climbing higher.

“When are you going to ask her? You think it’s too soon?” I groan slightly as Dumm-E added another ten bounds to the weights already weighing me down, but I kept running.

“You mean, re-ask her?” I looked at Steve who only nodded. “‘Course I’m gonna re-ask her Stevie, it’s just,” I watched as the red number switched to mile 45, frowning at how I was yet to be tired. “Last time I asked her, she was ripped away from me, tortured and almost became a baby maker for that sick son of a bitch.”

“Sure it might be too soon, but I don’t want to miss my chance again. Am I terrified of a repeat? Hell yes, it’s not easy when you hear her scream out your name and watch as her life is being ripped apart right in front of you and then you wake up.” I could start to feel the strain and burn of my muscles, crying out for me to stop. The serum monitor spiking slightly from images of the past.

“I can’t go through that again Steve, I can’t.” Heading the warning signs, I slow down and signal to Tony that I’m done and need to get off. Steve helped get the weights off me, while Tony and Bruce gawk at the red 55-mile number with me hardly even breaking out a sweat. I tried not to think about it too much, didn’t need another reminder of what I was turned into.

“Right, okay...so that was very impressive.” Tony managed to say, still surprised, but he grew serious just as fast. “Still, I suggest you go be lazy for a few hours. Just ‘cause you got this new drug doesn’t mean your body doesn’t need time to rest up. No need to injure yourself.” With that, they left while Steve and I made our way towards the elevators in silence.

“When are you going to?” I looked at Steve who was casually leaning against the elevator wall as it brought him up to his floor.

“Soon, I just want it to be us when I do. No twinkling lights, fancy dinner, jazz music, just...just us.” For a minute I thought he wasn’t going to agree with me, but the smile on his face said otherwise.

“We’ll watch over the twins for the next couple days.” He gripped my shoulder, then stepped out the lift, “I’m happy for you Buck.” It was a nice feeling, to feel happy again. To feel that I was finally getting everything I ever wanted.

I moaned deeply as I felt firm, but gentle hands dig into the tense muscles of my back. After a quick shower, I only seemed to have enough energy to slip on a pair of boxers before I passed out on the bed. I took it as a good sign, for now, I had a better idea of where my limit would be around. I didn’t need to glance back to see who those skill full hands belonged to, for I already did. So I allowed myself to melt into the mattress and let her do her magic. Hissing when she worked out a knot on my left shoulder.

“Heard you ran 55 miles with a good 40 pound of weights on you…” Y/N spoke softly as she continued to work out the knot.

I breathed out as she pressed down on the tight spot. “Yeah...needed the...the push.” She stilled for a moment then moved again, sighing.

“Bucky, you don’t need to prove yourself to me,” before I could reply I felt Y/N shift so she was straddling my waist then stretching herself across my back. “You’ve done more than that already.” I felt my muscles flex as I felt her soft body rest on top of mine. I place my head back on my folded arms, feeling her breath on my neck, her steady heartbeat drumming through her chest, the faint sound of blood being pumped from her heart. Letting me know she was very much alive and healthy, one of the good things about the new serum. But it still didn’t mean that I had to like it, I didn’t feel like myself with it but knew I’d be dead without it

I was brought back by slim fingers brushing my hair away from my face, lips caressing my jaw before meeting mine ever slowly. I tilted my head back to give her better access, which she happily took. Carefully, I managed to roll onto my back resting my hands on the base of her spine, letting her take control of the kiss.

Tangling my hand in her hair, letting the metal digits of my free hand run along the skin of her spine, feeling the ever so soft hum of the machine the guys installed. I smirked at the shiver that followed as I dipped my sleek metal digits past the band of her yoga pants teasingly. Y/N kissed me softly, gently, humming against me, threading her own fingers through my hair. I felt myself melting into the sheets from her touch. But the need to breathe was strong, breathing heavy as we came up for air.

I looked up at her with hazy eyes, mesmerized at how beautiful she was like this. Relaxed, face flushed, lips plump and red, hair messed up and completely content. I knew this was the moment I was waiting for, time to make it into reality.

“Let’s get married,” Y/N stilled, watching me intently most likely to see if I was actually telling the truth, “tomorrow or the day after if we can.” She still hadn’t said anything or made any notion of moving, but I needed to tell her everything. That we’ve waited long enough for this. I sat up, holding onto her so she sat in my lap facing me, leaning against the headboard I held her face lovingly. Her eyes stayed on mine, wide with worry, delight, nervousness, and longing. I could feel her shift slightly and if I had to guess, she was rubbing her left hand where the gap was, where the ring would usually go.

“Y/N Y/L/N, doll, my love, my better half,” I sighed out heavily, giving her a tender smile before placing an angel kiss to her forehead, her eyes, cheeks, nose, then one on her lips. “You are the love of my life, the reason I breathe...and, and I don’t think we should push this off anymore.”

“You think...think we’re ready?” I ran my hands down her arms to her hands, kissing each knuckle leaving my eyes on hers. I placed them on my chest as I wrapped my arms protectively around her waist.

“I think we’ve been ready for a long time doll.” I squeezed her lightly, “I don’t want to wait any longer. We’ve been through hell time and time again and I don’t want it to leave us scared to the point where it takes away all the plans we made for each other.” I look right into her eyes sincerely wanting her to fully understand what I was saying.

“Y/N, I want to get married to you. I want to make a life with you, have more kids with you, start a new journey with you where it’s just us and the twins. I don’t want him to hold us back from anything. I won’t let him do that.” I could feel myself start to vibrate with rage just from thinking about it, but it quickly disappeared as Y/N ran her fingers through my hair, cupping the back of my head.

“James Buchanan Barnes, my protector, my Bucky…” her smile was genuine and full of happiness, “I would love to marry you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” We both shared a laugh before she continued.

“Let’s get married soon, tomorrow, two days from now, I don’t care as long as I get to say ‘I do’ asap.” I grin widely at her, laughing as I attacked her with kisses as I pushed her onto her back. I felt like floating through the ceiling from the joy bursting from my chest, I was so excited to finally being able to marry my girl. I couldn’t wait to say those two words either, not to mention to finally consummate our life as husband and wife.

When we informed the others of the news everyone was ecstatic and divided up the jobs in wedding planning. From the decorations, music, food, and outfits, nothing was left behind. However there was one rule, the boys would help me with choosing my tux and the girls with Y/N’s dress and we weren’t allowed to see each other the day before the wedding. No. Complaining. Allowed.

I honestly thought that that rule was just plain stupid, but when Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper all gave me death glares I let it be. Thankfully it did leave us the day before that to spend the whole day with just us and the twins. Who seemed to understand what was going on, for they were full of energy and excitement.

We weren’t allowed into the common room for the others were finishing the details of the wedding and ordered us to rest or else. We didn’t mind the light threat, we were more than happy to spend time with just us four, with no stress about the wedding. Plus, it gave us an excuse to lounge in our pj’s without judgment. Not to mention, we wouldn’t be disturbed today either until tomorrow morning. Which was great, because I got to hold Y/N close, feel her pressed against me as we watched the twins roll around and “talk” with each other.

It was amazing to see how fast they were already growing, but they were healthy and strong. Despite them already having some of the super soldier serum as a part of their DNA. It was a quite a scare at first, mainly me standing behind Tony and Bruce making sure that they know that the twins won’t be affected much by it.

But we were assured that both Darian and Sorina were healthy and would be just fine. I was broken out of my thoughts when a pair of small hands began slapping my chest. I look down to see Sorina smiling up at me with bright eyes. I returned the greeting, lifting her up blowing raspberries on her chubby cheeks.

“Hey baby girl, how’d you get up here?” She laughed when my beard tickled her cheek, “Yes, that’s daddy’s beard...oh are you ticklish?” Squeals of laughter erupted from the room when I began to tickle her stomach. I looked over to see Y/N holding Darian who was also grinning widely. I reached out and grabbed Darian and rolled to the floor gently, placing them on their backs on top of their blanket. Alternating from kissing their button noses to tickling their tummies.

“Who’s the cutest? You both are! Micile mele îngeri, bucuriile mele, totul meu (my little angels, my joy, my life). Momma and dad love you very much.” I gave them a few more kisses before lifting them off the floor and sitting beside Y/N once again. The twins on our laps starting to doze off from all the action from today.

“They’re a joy aren’t they?” Y/N asked me as her head landed on my shoulder as we watched the two pairs of eyes slip closed.

Holding onto Sorina, I pulled Y/N closer to my side kissing her temple. “Yeah, that they are. Thank you for giving them to me, for making me a family.” Y/N leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine, but pulled away before it could go any further.

“You deserve everything Bucky and I’m glad I was able to give you something.” I kissed her nose before eventually we had to get the twins off to bed and head to bed ourselves, for tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

“Two more days and you’ll finally be mine,” I said to Y/N as she laid beside me, I could her feel smiling into my neck.

“Oh Bucky, I was always yours. Just this time, I get to say ‘I do’.” Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but worth it in the end.

Torture, bloody torture. It all started with the girls barging into our room the next morning ready to get the day started. But I just wanted a few more minutes alone with her before she was taken away from me.

“Buck, you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!” Pepper stayed put at the foot of our bed, hands on her hips, glaring at me and my reluctance to release Y/N from my grasp.

“Yeah, and it’s also bad luck to push a deadly assassin to the edge when he’s already so close to jumping off,” I replied curtly through my teeth, just wanting them to go away. The atmosphere in the room grew tense as Pepper refused to back down. Until Nat placed a hand on her shoulder, I could feel her watching me intently understanding the signs.

“Pepper, why don’t we give them a few more minutes? Considering we did come in here unannounced.” Nat spoke softly, Pepper soon gave in.

“Alright, one more hour Mr. Barnes, then we’re coming back. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” She said with a light sigh, but I wanted them gone. The room was starting to close in fast, thankfully both Nat and Y/N seemed to notice.

“Don’t worry Pep, we still got the whole day still. Plus I don’t think the guys are ready yet anyway.” With that the three girls left the room, leaving us alone once again. I released a breath I didn’t even know I was holding, as I allowed myself to sink further into the mattress as I tried to grasp onto something, anything that would keep me grounded. So when a gentle hand broke me out of my trance, it felt as if I could breathe again. I could feel my body begin to relax, tension dissolving the more Y/N whispered to me.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere babe. We got another hour to just snuggle and for me to steal some of your body heat.” Y/N slid down and curled against my chest, bringing the sheet over us so it covered us completely, shutting the rest of the world out.

Content, I pulled her into me, wanting to soak in everything about her. Her scent, touch, heartbeat, everything. Legs tangled together, bodies flush against one another, arms locked in an embrace that sent comfort, I let myself think about nothing except this moment.

“What happened back there? I could literally feel you trembling, you okay?” Y/N spoke softly, dry lips kissing my skin.

“I’m fine,” her hard look made me stop before I could even finish, daring me to finish the lie, “it’s just, I didn’t...I didn’t see…,” I rubbed my face harshly, slightly afraid that these past few months have been a dream just waiting to be shattered by the dark reality of how I still wasn’t free from my own monsters.

“What didn’t you see Bucky?” Y/N was now leaning over me, having managed to push me onto my back without my knowledge.

I looked into her eyes, ones that have always kept me afloat when I feel like drowning. “Them,” I licked my lips nervously as she waited for me to finish, “I didn’t see Pepper, Wanda or Natasha when they came in….I saw them. I saw them and, I couldn’t...I wanted,” Realization dawned on Y/N as it all began to click.

“They’re gone James, they’re gone and never coming back. No one’s going to hurt us anymore.” Meeting her halfway, we kissed softly, letting it grow heated not giving a fuck about who might be just outside the door. Taking her hips, I pulled her on top of me where she straddled my waist with her thighs that went on for days.. I felt her shudder at the touch of my fingers trailing up her smooth skin, pushing up the fabric of her shirt, running the palms of my hands across her back.

A growl rumbled from my chest as I took control of the situation, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth until it was red and swollen. Not having my fill of her taste, I made my way down her jaw, down her neck, finding that one...perfect...spot, that made her melt.

“Hmm--fuck, do-do that again,” not wanting her to wait, I grazed my teeth over the budding red mark forming on the juncture of her neck. Teasing the sensitive flesh, before digging my teeth into her skin, not hard enough to break, but for the mark to last for days. From the whines and the constant begging, she didn’t mind it one bit. In fact, it made her more aroused, which made the air around us thick with her sweet scent. Taking a hold of her hips, I began to grind against her, gasping as I felt her slick having already seep through her panties and soaking the fabric of my boxers.

“Mmmm, so wet for me doll. Marked by me, wanting me to fill you up, stretch you, lick you clean until you have nothing left to give me.” She shivered as I rolled her hips once more, “But that’s gonna have to wait, but for now I want you to make yourself cum from just this and only this,” I whispered in her ear as I slipped my hands past the fabric of her black panties, grabbing a hold of the soft mounds to meet my thrust. Causing her arms to go weak as her chest was flush with mine, hips grinding hesitantly.

“Let go Y/N, lose yourself to the feeling-- fuck,” I groaned deeply as she picked up the pace, using her position to her advantage as she attacked my neck with her teeth. Leaving her own marks behind, only for them to disappear soon after.

“Like that baby? You get me so wet for you James, how you fill me up, full of your cum.” She gave a sharp jerk of her hips as she brought her mouth down on one my nipples, causing me to finish right then and there.

“Y-Y/N, fuck-shit, doll you feel so good,” I let out a whine, letting her take over completely, to use me to gain her release. Which didn’t take long, for she bucked frantically as she climaxed, with me following shortly afterward. We laid there as we rode out our highs, waiting for our bodies to come down from cloud nine, goosebumps littered our skin from the cooling sweat. Enjoying the quietness of the room, the steady thump of our hearts beating in sync. That was until the others thought it would be a perfect time to come storming in, causing Sam to stop in his tracks when a knife missed his head by an inch.

“Uh, someone seems to be in a bad mood.” He replied slowly, giving up when he couldn’t pull the knife out of the wall. Y/N beat me to the punch when it was her turn to show her own frustration with the group. Glaring at Sam, she slipped off the bed taking me along with her.

“I still got ten more minutes with my hot as fuck fiance, then we’ll start on the day, but for now, I want to spend those ten minutes with him in the shower. If you don’t want to be scarred, I suggest you leave.” Shocked like the others, I let my fiance drag me to the bathroom where we did indeed get ready for the day. In more ways than one.

The day went by slow despite everyone rushing to finish the final details for the wedding, which was in just in a few hours. After our shower yesterday, Y/N was whisked away and I haven’t seen her since then, just words from the others that she was fine, safe and excited for today. But it didn’t help that I couldn’t see her.

Laura was more than willing to watch over Darian and Sorina, giving the kids to bond with hers. It felt weird not to be around them, I found myself missing their baby scent, feeling their steady beating hearts under my palm as I watched them sleep. For it gave me a sense of peace, knowing that they were alive and safe.

“What’s with the face Buck? You’re finally tying the knot.” Steve’s voice broke me out my thoughts as he stood in the doorway with a worried expression. I tried to smile at him, but it came off as weak, giving up I sat down resting my head in my hands.

“I know Steve, I am happy, it’s just...it’s not easy , not being able to hear her or see her.” I run my hands over my face tiredly, registering Steve sitting beside me. “I keep thinking that I’m still there and that sooner or later I’m going to have to wake up from this dream.” A firm hand gripped my shoulder, causing me to look over at my friend.

“But it’s not a dream Bucky, this here, right now? Is real, before you know it Y/N’s going to be walking down that aisle towards you to become your wife. She keeps you grounded you know, keeps you present. You’re not living a dream Buck, you’re living the real thing.” A soft knock had us standing up to see Nat walking in along with Tony.

“Before you ask, yes she’s fine and says the kiddos can’t wait to kiss their daddy. And despite what we think, we agreed she could come and talk to you, knowing that you’re getting worked up.” Tony replied with a smile on his face. Nat walked up to me, taking me by the hand and led me towards the door.

“Only slip your hand through, but you still can’t see her yet, that’s what she wants. But she’s on the other side waiting.” I nod numbly at Nat, opening the door slightly to slip a shaking hand past it. The gears and sensors in my palm whirred as a felt a soft, delicate hand grasp mine, sending calm waves my way.

“How are you holding up big guy?” I let my headland on the doorway, soaking in her floral perfume, letting her voice wash over me.

“Better, now that I can feel you.” I had to restrain myself from ripping the door off its hinges and pulling her into my arms, but I respected her wishes. I could feel the other's eyes on me, watching as I drew out a shuddered breath as I felt Y/N place a kiss against the cool metal of my palm.

“Just a few more minutes my Bucky, until I’ll become Mrs. Barnes. I’ll be the one wearing white.” With one last kiss on my hand, her hand slipped out of mine letting me know she was gone, except this time I was calm about it. For I knew that she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Ready to get married Frosty?” Tony said excitedly.

“More than ready.” And it was true, I was past the point of being ready.

A soft melody began to play as the guests stood up and faced the back, waiting for the bride to emerge. And it wasn’t anything I expected, she was absolutely breathtaking. The way the light reflected off the white fabric hugging her figure. To the smooth spans of the skin that showed underneath the delicate lace patterns. Everything about her looked breathtaking.

I watched as she made her way down the aisle towards me as if she was floating. I could hear whispers in the crowd, but I ignored them and focused on her and the excited gurgles of the twins who were sitting with Clint’s family. Before I knew it, Y/N was standing in front of me, ready to start her life with me as Mrs. Barnes. She handed off the bouquet of flowers off to Natasha letting me take her hands in mine as the ceremony started.

After the kind words of friends, the vows declaring our love for one another, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even Steve looked like he was going to lose it from the way he was trying to keep himself in check. Before the declaration of our matrimony was finished, I had an armful of my now wife, Mrs. Y/N Barnes, in a bruising kiss. The guests were on their feet, cheering us on, wolf whistling when I dipped Y/N down. Not wanting to give anyone else a show, I stood back up bringing a flustered Y/N with me.

I held her face softly in my hands as I gazed at her, “I love you Mrs.,” kissing her forehead, “Y/N”, her nose, “Barnes.” Then lastly her lips once more.

“And I you Mr. Barnes,” she replied with a smile, “but now let’s get the reception started so we can go on our very secret, private honeymoon and finish what we started yesterday.” With all the burdens of the past muted, I felt more alive and free then I have in so long. So with a smile, open hand and a new story for us to start, I led my wife back down the aisle to start on that new story.

Y/N’s Ring Y/N’s Dress Bucky’s Ring Bucky’s Suit Venue

Boy: Darian Razeem Barnes Girl: Sorina Mumina Barnes

Darian = gift Mumina = lovely, sweet girl

Razeem = Lions roar Sorina = sun

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