#[sigh] maybe i’m realizing things about the kind of women i tend to attract. maybe im pulling them in because it IS what i actually want??

[wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl]

Hey! I just discovered your blog and I was wondering if you'd be okay doing a Lance tucker x reader where they get in an argument but it has a fluffy ending where they're closer than they were before? Maybe they confess their feelings to each other? I totally understand if you're not able or comfortable to write this.

Merry Christmas! 🎄🤶🎅🌲🎁

Authors Notes: Hey! I hope this is something similar to what you were looking for. They’re expressing their feelings in some way, just maybe not the way you’d think. I hope you like it!

Lance Tucker x Reader

Warnings: Arguing, swearing, insinuation of possible cheating, and some downright shitty friends.

Word Count: 3K

Trouble in Paradise

(Not my gif)

_______________________________________________

It was New Year’s Eve. The year had been stressful to say the least but even worse, Lance’s buddies were coming over for a party. It’s not that you didn’t like his friends. Well, it was that. You didn’t like them. Ever since you and Lance got together three years ago, they have done nothing but try to convince him to date hotter women. “Date” being a loose term.

Overheard conversations during football games and dart/pool games and the basement went something like this.

“Oh, come on Lance you saw the chicks you used to pull. They were smokin’. Why don’t you just live again? Or better yet, you don’t even have to break up with her! Just, you know, tell her you got competitions and when she doesn’t suspect it, book a couple hotel rooms. What’s the harm?”

“Lance, buddy, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you don’t exactly have a trophy wife. Aren’t you the one with the gold medal? Shouldn’t you be looking for a gold medal wife instead of a bronze one?”

“I like her Lance, I really do, but remember that Victoria’s Secret model you hooked up with regularly like 5 years ago? What was her name... uh... Serenity! Yeah, why don’t you give her a call. You guys seemed to really click.”

The worst part of it all was they never really got to know you. They brushed past you while you cooked some food for them in the kitchen. You and Lance took turns cooking but somehow you always found that you were cooking when his friends were coming over. You had never really put much thought into it, until tonight.

“Honey! I’m home from the gym!”

You were making taco dip, guacamole, homemade Mac and cheese, and Buffalo chicken dip for the big party. You ordered pizzas, subs, and other sides to top it off. You never knew how much 8 men could eat, until you started cooking for 8 men.

Lance came up behind you and gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “How’s my pretty girl doing?”

“Fine, I guess.”

You both knew you weren’t fine.

Lance sighs loudly. “Angel, what is wrong? You know I just want to help you.”

“We can talk about it later. Right now, I just want to get in my cooking zone and not think about anything.”

Lance puts his hands on his hips and stares at you authoritatively.

“Well, I’m gonna go quick grab a shower and come back down to help you finish cooking before the boys come.”

“Sounds good” you said with a half-smile. You were dreading tonight.

_______________________________________________

True to his word, Lance came down and helped you finish cooking the rest of the food. It remained quiet for most of the time you spent together. Lance could feel the tension in the air but didn’t want to ask again if anything was wrong before the party. It was New Year’s Eve, he was supposed to be celebrating with his friends, not trying to start a fight with you.

You were infuriated Lance didn’t bother to ask you why you were so upset. You always felt second to his friends, why is that? The first year you were dating it wasn’t like that. You were the center of attention in all regards, you didn’t want to be, but he treated you like the only girl in the world. Now?

“Hey babe I’m going out with the guys I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew full well he would drunkenly slip under the covers at 3AM. Why was he out so late? What was he doing?

“Sweetheart the guys are coming over to play pool do you mind ordering us some pizzas?” Why couldn’t he do it himself?

You really did not mind that Lance had friends. You encouraged him to hang out with them even though they said horrible things about you, but enough was enough. There’s hanging out with your friends, and there’s being with your friends 24/7, leaving your girlfriend to stay home and watch movies by herself.

After you finished cooking you went upstairs to the bedroom to watch a movie. By yourself.

Surprise, surprise.

You heard the front door open for the first time tonight. You wondered if any of the guys would bring over their girlfriends or “hot dates.” You didn’t know if that would relieve your stress or infuriate you even more. If they did bring someone, they wouldn’t be so focused on it being a “boys’ night.” However, if they did bring someone, why couldn’t you come downstairs to hang out with them?

You heard a slap of hands exchanged and what you assumed to be a half hug after it.

The men continued to pile in around 8PM. Some of them brought a date, but others didn’t. However, you noticed one of the guys brought two girls. Why would he do that?

You decided to put on some nice clothes to go downstairs. Other men were bringing their dates, and this was your house. You deserve to celebrate too.

You worked your way down to the basement, wanting to spend time with your definitely above average looking boyfriend. You were so happy to call him yours, even though he frustrated you to no end sometimes. From what you overhear, he never sticks up for you.

You strutted over him and placed your hand on his back gently. He quickly turns around, angry almost and begins to say something “I told you I don’t want.... oh, hi baby.”

You looked at him confused. What was that about?

“Hi... what’s uh, what’s going on?”

“Oh nothin’. Just Evan and I got into it earlier about something and I thought he was coming to bother me about it again. But then I turn around to see your pretty face and that doesn’t even matter.”

He brings you in for a tight hug and rests his chin on your head. You loved him. You loved him so much.

Out of nowhere Evan comes up behind you, noticeably drunk, the scent of liquor oozing off of him. There’s a girl attached to his right arm. She’s tall, slender, and blonde. You thought she was too attractive for Evan, until he started to speak.

“Lance, meet my girl Lindsay here. She’s really interested in you and wants to talk to you about your gold medal.”

You can’t say this never happened. You were used to women throwing themselves at Lance. You were always so proud to call Lance yours, but other women wanted that opportunity as well. It got so bad to the point where women would send random lewd photos to his work email to gain his attention. It never worked thank god. Every time you saw pictures like that you got suspicious, but every message read “don’t you want to see what you’re missing out on?” or something to that degree. Lance was always patient and kind with you about it, knowing you were easily frustrated and cautious of him because you knew what he was like before. However, you knew he wouldn’t cheat on you, and he always has an explanation if he thought you were ever worried.

“Excuse me?” You said looking at Evan.

“Come on Y/N. Let the man have a little fun.” Evan retorted.

“This isn’t letting him have ‘a little fun.’ Letting him have ‘a little fun’ is hosting this party, not you trying to actively encourage him to cheat on me, right in front of me no less.”

Lindsay sneers at you. “Who are you? Get in line sister. Evan told me I would get to talk to him.”

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

“I don’t know if I have to spell it out for you, if you can even spell, but I’m his girlfriend.”

“Y/N come on baby it’s not that big of a deal. She just wants to talk to me about my gold medal that’s all.”

“The gold medal you won in the Olympics or the one tattooed around your dick Lance?”

“I’ll only talk to her about the one I won in the Olympics and you know that.”

You had had it. You were so incredibly tired of Lance never sticking up for you when it came to situations like this. You never threw a fit when his friends would make stupid remarks, but this was the last straw.

“I don’t care anymore Lance! Talk to her about your dick tattoo. Hell, let her even see your dick tattoo close up while she’s sucking you off. I’m done.”

Without giving him a second glance. you turned on your heel and walked upstairs to grab your car keys.

Lance sprinted up the stairs after you, shouting your name. You didn’t care. You ran to the garage and hit the button to open the door. Lance thought you went to your room, so he sprinted to the third floor thinking you were there. He finally realized you were actually leaving when he heard the start of your car. He saw you back out of the driveway like a bat out of hell, and all he could do was watch from the window.

_______________________________________________

You drove to the nearest diner, hoping they would be open even though it was New Year’s Eve. Thankfully, they were. You always comforted yourself with food when shit like this happened. Who doesn’t love food? You can’t say that entirely though. You also tended to starve yourself in situations like this as well. Neither coping mechanism was healthy, but it got you through it.

You ordered a breakfast meal, quickly glancing at your phone to see if anyone had texted you.

24 missed calls from Lance❤️🥇

You knew he was worried about you, but you weren’t ready to call him back yet. You knew he couldn’t come searching for you either, all of his friends still being inside, waiting for the ball to drop. This was going to be the first year you and Lance wouldn’t kiss at midnight, all because of his stupid friends who hate you for no reason.

You ate your meal as you saw Ryan Seacrest introduce one artist after another on the television.

The clock was nearing midnight. You didn’t seem to care. You contemplated going to your friend’s house, knowing they would gladly accept you and support you, especially when they knew how much of an ass Lance’s friends could be. You decided against it, not wanting to bother anyone.

You glanced at your phone again.

28 missed calls from Lance❤️🥇

Not only that, but it had looked like he texted you as well.

“Where are you going???”

“Y/N???”

“Baby come back here please I’m very upset and I want to talk”

“Baby please come back and talk to me.”

And about 15 other messages similar to those.

You were heartbroken. You wanted to go home, but you knew you needed to stand your ground.

As the many thousands of people in NYC count down to the New Year you sat and ate your bacon and pancakes.

Lance saw all of his buddies laughing and having a good time. He couldn’t have a good time until he knew you were safe and that he would have everything fixed. He knew he fucked up big time, but he thought you were overreacting to the extreme. Was it really that bad you needed to leave right away?

His annoyance throughout the night grew as Lindsay began to pester him about his interests.

“Lindsay, I don’t know how to tell you this in a nice way, so I won’t. I have a girlfriend. She’s the sexiest, smartest, and sweetest woman on this planet, and that’s all that matters to me. Now please, go bother Johnny or somethin’.”

Lindsay didn’t like that. So much so, she dumped her whole glass of whiskey on his brand-new Nike shoes. He didn’t care she was upset. All he cared about was you.

Evan came back up to Lance for the last time of the night.

“Heyyuh pal. I didn’t mean to make your lady run out on ya.”

“But you did Evan. You fucking idiot, you stupid fucking fucker. You ruined this night for not only me, but my girl who is probably out sobbing to her friends about how much of a shit boyfriend I am. And you know what? I don’t blame her. I deserve it.”

“C’mon man don’t be so *burp* hard on yourself. Hey, at least you can go have fun with Lindsay eh?” He says while wiggling his eyebrows.

Lance was fuming. “Evan if you don’t get the fuck out of my face, I’m going to floor you in about 6 seconds.”

Evan held up his hands and backed away, finally getting the hint he was becoming a nuisance to not only Lance, but the party itself.

He listened to all of his friends count down to the new year in a drunken haze. He slouched over the home bar, drinking himself into a stupor with his seventh gin and tonic. He didn’t care about any of the calories he was consuming. He didn’t care about anything. He knew he wouldn’t have his Angel to hold and kiss into the new year. He wanted nothing more for this night to just end.

_______________________________________________

You snuck back into the house around 4AM, hoping Lance wasn’t awake. You drove around for hours after the ball dropped, the diner closing at 1AM anyways. You listened to 80’s music, calming yourself down. Music always helped you meditate.

As you slowly closed the door you saw Lance sitting miserably in his recliner. He was no longer drunk. Just incredibly depressed.

He turned to look at the door, hoping that the door opening and closing wasn’t just some sleep induced hallucination. As soon as he realized it was you, he jolted up and ran to give you a hug. You stuck your arm out before he could reach you.

He looked devastated.

“I want to talk Lance. I-”

“No, no I fucked up. Let me do this. I have been shit. I have been absolute and utter fucking garbage to you when it comes to my friends. I let them talk to me like I’m still a bachelor. I know you overhear the things they say, and it hurts you. And I let them do that. I don’t know why. I have no reason. It was so fucking stupid of me. You have to know I don’t want any other woman on this planet. You’re my day and my night. I would be lost in this depressing ass place of a world if it wasn’t for you my sweet Angel. My beacon of light.” He stopped his rant briefly to cup your face and stare into your eyes lovingly.

“It all stops here. No more stupid guy shit. You’re my number one and you deserve to be treated that way. If any of my friends continues to disrespect my baby, they’re out. I don’t care who they are and how long they’ve been around. You’re my baby. You’re the only thing that matters.

It felt like a weight had just been lifted off of your chest. You loved him. You really did.

He pulled you in for the tightest hug that he could have possibly ever given. He kisses the top of your forehead for what seems like a hundred times.

You look up to him while he’s still embracing you.

“I like Johnny. Johnny can stay.” You say with a smile.

“Keeping Storm it is, got it.” He returned with a smile.

A lightbulb goes on in Lance’s head. “Oh! Come here, come here, come here. I saved this for you.”

You follow him into the living room, your hand wrapped in his. He flicks through the TV menu, clicking to find the recording from earlier.

It was the ball drop.

“I recorded this for us. I didn’t want to miss kissing my baby into the new year.” He said with a smile.

“Lance Tucker, you are the sweetest man alive, do you know that?”

“C’mon, you know I’m still an asshole. I just have my moments.” He says with an eyeroll.

You slapped his chest playfully as you both slightly laughed.

As the seconds ticked down to midnight for the second time of the night, Lance stared into your eyes with the most love you have ever felt from a person.

“10!”

“Where did you even go anyways?”

“9!”

“Our spot.”

“8!”

I’m gonna take you on the best date there ever was. Just you wait.”

“7!”

“I’ll be counting on that Tucker. A promise is a promise.”

“6!”

“I’m really good at keeping promises.”

“5!”

“Oh really? Just like that time you promised to give me a castle made out of gold?”

“4!”

“You’re still getting that y’know.”

“3!”

“What other promises have you kept huh?”

“2!”

“I promised to love you forever. And I always will.”

“1!”

“I love you too, Lance.”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

He kissed you with a ferocity you didn’t know existed. He took your bottom lip into his mouth and held it there for what seemed like forever. Forever was okay though, as long as you were with him.

Lance finally broke the kiss, pulling away softly and cupping your face in his left hand. He whispered.

“Check your cardigan pocket.”

You looked confused. He knew you would be. You felt a tiny box in you right hand pocket. It was covered in felt. You slowly pulled it out to see that it was a ring box. You opened it and it had a ring pop inside.

“Ha-ha. Very funny Tuc-”

You looked down to see Lance on one knee. Holding the most beautiful ring you had ever seen in your life.

“I’m going to love you forever, Y/N. Will you marry me?”

You were stunned.

“...Yes.... oh my god, YES!”

He smiled, standing up and wrapping his arms around you as fast as he could.

“I’ll love you forever too, Lance.”

[stillchaoticlogic]

Applin Pie

Summary

: Things are hard when you start your own bakery in the heart of Hammerlocke. Good thing your knight in shining armor is none other than Raihan the Gym Leader. You are smitten... Too bad you don't really think you're his type, especially when you see the beautiful and powerful women that surround him.

Good thing he likes you just the way you are.

Pairing: Raihan x Reader

Chapter: 1

Gazing out the window at the fading light you heave a sigh as you glance over at the mostly full case of sweet treats. Looking around at the cozy bakery you take in the overstuffed chairs and the mismatched teacups and plates. The corner houses a fire that is just barely flickering while lanterns hang from the ceiling giving a warm glow to the atmosphere. 

You knew opening a new bakery would be difficult, however, you were expecting that being in a prime area, that cost way too much to rent, would bring business. With only three customers all day even as you tried to hand out samples to the streets of Hammerlocke, to say the least, you are disheartened. You decide to close up for the day and lock the door before you begin to wipe down the tables. Your Indeedee, Bella, is cleaning the dishes and helping you to stack the chairs. Spook, your Pumpkaboo, is floating around putting out the candles and pouting about the lack of visitors. 

You are startled by a sudden knock on the door, you to look up and you see a man standing there. Surprised you hesitate before you walk over to the door to unlock it. 

“Hey! You aren’t closing up, are you? I saw your shop on my way into work today and I’ve been thinking about cake all day because of it,” he says with a friendly grin.

You blink in surprise at the man, “Oh? Well come on in, there is plenty left.”

He smiles as he walks into the shop with an ease you can only dream of and only then do you realize how tall he is. He’s wearing some kind of Pokemon league uniform, but you don’t really pay attention to the league, so you don’t know what he does or who he is. 

“What would you like?” you ask as you go behind the counter as Bella begins to clear the chairs from the tables once again. Spook is relighting the candles and thrills as he floats about, happy for the customer. 

The man studies the cakes and various other treats in the case before he glances up at you with a heart-stopping smile. 

“Sorry, I don’t really know what to get… Any recommendations?” He winks subtly and you fight to keep the blush at bay.

Before you can even open your mouth Strudel, your Appletun, lifts his little head up from where he had been dosing on top of the case before he points to an apple turnover called a Flapple Turnover. 

The male blinks at the tiny dragon for a moment before he chuckles at him, “Good choice buddy! I’ll take a Flapple Turnover!”

“Strudel likes to help customers by recommending his favorites,” you say with a laugh. 

“He’s a good helper then! It’s pretty cool you have an Appletun, how did you get one? Did your boyfriend give you an Applin?” he asks innocently. 

“Oh… I don’t have a boyfriend. When I was younger my family and I went apple picking at an orchard and we accidentally brought home a couple of Applin.”

“A couple?” he asks as he takes a bite of the turnover you hand him before a happy groan leaves his mouth.

At his question Tart, your Flapple, drops from the plant he’s been snoozing in. The stranger blinks at the newcomer before he chuckles at seeing the Flapple hovering before his face waving happily at him. 

“So you have one of each!” he says enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, Tart likes to sleep in the potted plants that hang from the ceiling, which is fine because he helps to take care of them,” you giggle, “And Strudel likes how warm the case is and helping undecided customers.”

“You’ve got some cool partners! So how long have you been open?”

“About a week, we don’t really have much business yet… That’s why I was closing up early…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, it’ll get better. In fact, these are great and I’ll take a variety of pastries for the gym tomorrow.”

“Oh! So you work at the gym?” you ask as you grab a box and begin to load him up.

“You mean…” he trails off in surprise.

“Hmmm?” you hum as you glance up at him.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?” you ask with a furrowed brow. 

“Uhh… No! Forget I said anything! This is great, I’m sure everyone at the gym will love these! How much?”

“On the house, you coming in has brightened my day, which is payment enough,” you say waving away his money.

“No way! You’re brand new and I want to support you! How much?” he says pulling out his wallet.

You argue back and forth with the man for a few minutes before he finally relents and takes the pastries from your hands. 

“Fine… but you have to let me take a picture with these guys for my Pokegram and let me recommend this place!”

“Deal!” you giggle. 

He carefully picks up Strudel and Tart lands on his head as his Rotom Phone flies out and snaps a picture of the three together. He’s so handsome he probably has a lot of followers, you think to yourself as he sets Strudel down gently and Tart flies over and lands on your head. 

“Perfect,” he says regarding the photo, “Hey, thanks for the pastries! I’ll be back soon okay? And watch for my post, what is your username?”

“@SweetandSourApplins.”

He chuckles, “Got it! See ya soon!”

You wave as he walks out of the door and you feel for the first time all week that just maybe this isn’t hopeless after all. 

You quickly lock up and finish cleaning up the place before you head back into the kitchen. Eclair your Milcery is sitting on the counter near your baking supplies. Heading over to her you chuckle as she chirps up at you. 

“Come on everyone, time for bed!” you say as you set the alarm and head towards the door that leads up to your apartment. 

It’s a cozy and quaint little place with a nook for reading and a balcony with several vines trailing down. Cherry, your Cherubi, is outside tending to the plants as everyone makes their way to their respective places in the apartment. Syrup, your Slurpuff, is lounging in her bed, exhausted from helping with the baking that day. 

The kitchen is off white with plants and vines that hang everywhere and has an airy feeling to it. It looks out into your living room which has a couch and a few chairs surrounding a coffee table. A small kitchen table is off to the side and painted a soft aqua blue. Down the hallway are your bathroom and bedroom. It’s not much, but it is everything you could want. 

You get started on dinner for everyone and giggle as Spook floats about the kitchen handing you the ingredients you ask for. After everyone is fed and tucked in you go to bed unsuspecting of the next day’s events. 

The next morning you wake up, get ready for your day and head downstairs to your kitchen as if it is any other day. You get to work on making the pastries, pies, and cakes for today. Each one is pokemon-themed and carefully crafted to be extra cute. The attractive customer last night has given you a burst of energy and even if you don’t sell anything today, you think you will still be okay for at least one more day. 

With a tray full of a batch of mini cakes you make your way through the swinging door and into the front where you almost drop the tray of desserts. There is a line outside of the door twisting around the corner. Upon seeing you several of them smile and wave happily and you smile back pure elation taking over your body. You set the tray down and motion one minute to the customers milling about outside. You technically have about ten minutes until you open which should give you enough time to set up the case. You get to work yelling at Bella to grab the trays and bring them out. She hops to it as Spook floats about lighting the lanterns and candles that hang from the ceiling and along the wall giving it a whimsical ambiance. 

You notice gasps from the crowd as Tart and Strudel make their way out of the back with Syrup right behind them. You chuckle as Tart flaps over to the window and waves happily back at the group. You hear squeals from several of the girls about how cute your tiny dragon is. You chuckle as he continues to dart from one person to another entertaining the crowd as you finish up. 

“Strudel? Syrup? Spook? Are we ready? Bella? Good to go?” With a chorus from your team, you head over to the door to unlock it. 

“Hey! Welcome!” you greet when you open the door for them. 

“Hi! We’re so excited to try your cakes!”

“Raihan said they were the best!”

“The picture of your Flapple and Appletun is the cutest! You must have been so excited when Raihan wanted to take a picture with them!”

“Uhh… yeah, he’s super nice…” you say while you rub your neck. 

“What was it like meeting him? Is he as cool in person as he seems?” asks another girl as she shoves the other out of the way. 

“Hey, guys you know his favorite was the turnover right? Do you want to try one?”

A chorus of ‘yes!’ goes up from the crowd of girls surrounding you giving you the chance to refocus them. After you have gotten them their pastries they all take pictures for their stories before biting into them. 

“These are to DIE for!” 

“So good!”

“Raihan has the BEST TASTE!”

“We’ll be back soon!!” They wave as they leave the shop only for more to come in right behind them. 

Your morning is filled with young women and trainers buying up cakes, cookies and pastries. Several businessmen and women come in and buy dozens for the office along with coffee. Friends and lovers sit idly in the candlelight sipping tea and eating cakes. Your patio is full to the brim with customers enjoying their treats with their tea or coffee. You’re amused when you notice Cherry hopping about offering mint and lavender to the patrons. They happily accept the fresh herbs before she bounces away. 

The stars of the show are definitely Tart and Strudel and everyone always mentions Raihan in passing. You’re pleased when your other pokemon garner affection from your guests too as they squeal about Spook or giggle when Bella or Syrup would bring them their treats. You’re pretty sure your pokemon are now famous. 

It’s late afternoon before you get a chance to take a breather. Grabbing your phone for the first time all day you see a plethora of notifications from new followers. You go to the very first notification and see the post the mysterious Raihan posted. You click on his profile and feel yourself become embarrassed. 

“Of course he’s a gym leader… Of course, he’s The Gym Leader…” you grumble to yourself as you scroll through his profile. You see another picture of him taking a bit out a cheese danish that must have made the girls go wild. “No wonder I was so busy today… he’s got millions of followers… And he recommended me…” you murmur as you pause on a photo of him licking the icing from one of your treats with a sultry look in his eyes. 

You settle on the photo he took last night of your two dragons after a moment of scrolling his Pokegram. 

“Got to hang with these cool dudes tonight! They help run a bakery called @SweetandSourApplin you should totally check out! When you do tell Tart and Strudel hi for me. And don’t worry if you don’t know what to get, Strudel loves recommending his favorite pastry to you.”

You giggle at the caption and feel gratitude flood your body. You glance over at the pie you made especially with him in mind and smile. You were glad that you left in the back today, just in case he came by. You know it’s silly, but he really did make your day. 

As the afternoon drifts into the evening you regard your mostly empty case and smile as you begin to clean up. You’re hoping you’ll see Raihan, but you know better than to hope that he would come by two nights in a row. As the evening wears on you lose hope and lock up for the night. 

You end up on your balcony with a cup of chamomile tea as you gaze up at the stars. Spook is munching on some poke puffs you made as he keeps you company outside. A Flygon suddenly lands gracefully on your balcony its eyes blinking at you. You blink back before your arms flail in surprise as you jerk back in your chair, a yelp escaping as you do so. 

“Don’t be scared of him! He’s a total softie. He just wanted to say hi!”

“Huh??” you look around your balcony for the oddly familiar disembodied voice before you look at the balcony one house over. Waving at you casually is your apparent next-door neighbor the Gym Leader Raihan. He’s leaning against the railing with a lazy grin as he regards you and his Flygon with interest. 

“You… live… there?” you ask in shock as you point in his direction. 

“Sure do!”

The stone house next to your house and bakery is bigger than your own house with vines growing up the side. Perhaps you should have been paying attention the past few months while you’ve been getting things ready. Then again you have been rather busy so it’s really not a wonder that you missed your handsome and famous neighbor. 

“Oh…” You blink back at him while your exhausted brain attempts to catch up. 

Raihan laughs as his Flygon leans forward and sniffs you before chirping at you happily. 

“Hello,” you murmur as you gently lift your hand and run it along his neck, “Perhaps you would like a poke puff too?”

The pokemon chirps at you as you get up and head into your house before you emerge a moment later with a bag in your hand. Tart yawns as he follows you back outside and lands on your shoulder as he sniffs at the much larger dragon. You reach into the bag and pull out a puff that you hand to the dragon in front of you before you grab another one for the one on your shoulder. 

“He likes you!” laughs Raihan before he calls his partner back over to him. You chuckle as you watch Flygon show Raihan his treat before he eats it. 

“Thank you!” you blurt out suddenly.

“Huh? For what?” he asks as he pauses petting his companion. 

“For the recommendation… I sold almost everything today thanks to you!”

“Naw I just let them know you were there, you did everything else.”

“Still… thank you…”

“Anytime, Princess.”

You chuckle at the nickname, “I bet you call all the girls princess… Gym Leader Raihan.”

He winces when you say his title, “So you found me out, huh?”

“You made it kinda easy…”

He sighs as he puts his hands on his hips and looks up at the night sky, “Could you just… pretend you don’t know?”

“Huh? Why?” you tilt your head at his request.

“It was nice talking to you without having to be… Dragon Tamer Raihan… It was cool being just Raihan.”

“Well, you are just Raihan… I mean it’s cool that you’re a gym leader and you get to do what you love, but that doesn’t change who you are as a person. Plus… no offense… I don’t really pay attention to league stuff...”

“No offense taken princess,” he says with a chuckle.

“So...I uh… made an apple pie last night to try out a new design and recipe for the store… do you want to come over and test it out with me?” You’re glad the darkness hides your blush, and although you already know that this recipe is delicious your little white lie seems much less creepy than you just making him a pie.

“Princess I will never say ‘no’ to anything that you make. I’ll be right there!”

He runs into his house and disappears before you hear his front door open. 

“Come to the back!” you yell down at him as you lean over the railing. 

He sends you a thumbs up before you turn around and head to your back door. A moment later you hear footsteps coming up your back stairs and you let him in. 

“Cute place,” he says as he ducks his head to enter your home. 

“Oh… thanks!” you smile as you turn around to grab the pie that looks almost exactly like Strudel.

“That’s not actually your Appletun, right? It looks exactly like him!” he says in awe. 

You giggle, “Nope! It took me a long time to get this right! Here!” you say as you hand him a slice. 

He takes a bite and his eye widen in amazement, “This is amazing…” he says before he takes another mouth full. 

“I’m glad you like it! Here, try this as well! It’s a spiced tea, I think the spices complement one another quite well, don’t you?”

He quickly takes a sip before he devours another bite of his pie, “That’s it, you’re staying in business and right next door to me if I have anything to say about it! I’m not giving up my new job as an official taste tester.”

“Well if business continues like it did today you won’t have anything to worry about,” you say as you clap your hands together in excitement. 

“I’m glad you were busy today! I couldn’t stand seeing that look of disappointment on your face.”

“When did you see that?” you ask looking away from him. 

“When I knocked yesterday you looked so disappointed, I had to figure out a way to see that beautiful smile of yours.”

“Hush Raihan…” you say with a blush.

“It’s true! I saw you getting everything ready for your bakery to open and you were so excited! I loved seeing your smile, it always made my day brighter.”

You look away from him and blush, “I bet you say that to all the girls,” you say with a giggle as you playfully hit his arm. 

“Just the pretty ones who know how to bake,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, “So cheesy…”

“You love cheese! I know you do!”

You cut yourself a slice of the pie as a means of distracting yourself just as Strudel comes striding towards the two of you. 

“Hey buddy,” Raihan says as he bends down to greet the tiny dragon, “Did you recommend all kinds of treats today?”

Strudel chirps up at Raihan, clearly happy to see him again as Raihan rubs the Appletun under his chin. 

“You train dragons right?”

“That’s right!”

“I bet you have a lot of cool pokemon…”

“I do have a really cool team. They are the best a guy could ask for. Do you battle?” he glances over his shoulder at you. 

“Not really…Sometimes I will, but I don’t have much of a reason to.”

“So you aren’t interested in battling at all?”

“Ahh well, I wouldn’t say that…” you hesitate as you find the right words, “I’m just out of practice. I battled when I was younger a bit, but I haven’t had much of a reason to lately.”

You shrug your shoulders as you regard Raihan. 

“If you like battles, I would love it if you would come to my match on Saturday. It’s an exhibition match with Allister.” 

“Who’s Allister? Another gym leader?”

Raihan laughs, not in a cruel way, perhaps more at himself before he answers you, “Yeah, he’s the Ghost-type leader of Stow-on-Side gym.”

“I love ghost types! I think they’re fun!”

“They are pretty fun! Do you have any others besides your Pumpkaboo?”

“No…” you say looking down slightly disappointed, “I’ve always wanted a Litwick or a Dreepy! Maybe even a Mimikyu!” Your eyes light up in excitement thinking about the cute ghosts you’ve always wanted. 

“Why don’t you catch one then?”

“I don’t know… I’ve been really focused on the bakery you know? It’s a lot of work and my friends are very helpful, I doubt I would have time for another Pokemon right now…”

“I get it… Too bad though… you would look cute with a Dreepy riding on your shoulder or a Mimikyu following along behind you… I bet your Pumpkaboo could show a Litwick the ropes…” he says looking at you as if he was imagining the pokemon keeping you company, his head resting on his hand and that lazy smile on his handsome face. 

You cock your head to the side, “What? You don’t think I’m cute now?” you tease.

“Ahh… So we’re going to play that game huh? You know you’re adorable, Princess.”

You laugh as you regard the dragon tamer before you murmur, “Alright I believe you…”

“I’m hurt, princess! Do you think I would lie to you?”

“Of course not, Raihan,” you chuckle as you grab his dirty plate from him. 

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to spoil me?” Raihan asks as he regards you over the tea in his hands. 

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, Princess… So are you coming to my battle on Saturday?”

“I’ll be there!”

“Excellent! I’m going to head home so you can get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired after your busy day.”

“Ok … Thanks for being my taste tester and for supporting me today.”

“Anytime princess… Anytime…”

“Good night!”

“Hey! Don’t forget your promise okay? I’m getting your ticket tomorrow!”

“I won’t forget!”

“Okay, I’m holding you to that! Good night.”

You smile as you watch him turn the corner before you close the door and giggle. You notice the look that Strudel is giving you and you frown at the little dragon. 

“Oh hush…”

He chirps up at you knowingly before you both head to bed to start another day.

Notes: Hey guys just something cute I’ve been working on! I hope you enjoy it! Leave a comment and some love and reblog to show support! 

[baecvlt]

First Love

Pairing: Sougami (Byakuya Togami x Kazuichi Soda)

Warnings: Smut (all wholesome tho bc they barely met in this one)

A/N: Decided to write this up for the bestie (komaedanovio on TikTok; follow them). Azul would die for them and there are 0 fics abt them sooo. Yeah.

“So you’re part of the Future Foundation, huh?”

Byakuya pushes his glasses back as they were falling off his nose, then turning around to see the person who spoke. “Uh, yes,” he answered the pink haired man behind him, he stuck out his hand that he’d covered with a handkerchief,“Byakuya Togami”. They shook hands.

“Name’s Kazuichi Soda”

“I know. The ‘Ultimate Mechanic’, is it not?”

“Yeah! You look really rich. Valentino Couture?”

“Yeah—,” Byakuya answered, then looked down at his suit,“How did you know?”. “My mom was somewhat a tailor. She’d help fix and sew up suits such as yours, so I obviously had to recognize Italian threads,” he explained,“Made sure I washed my hands before approaching you, can’t stain a fine suit like that”. Byakuya was somewhat impressed. No one has ever appreciated his attire, he looked like a snob to most people.

Then again, Kazuichi isn’t most people.

“She taught me to sew, never let me handle suits,” Kazuichi added,“But I’d always see them in the closet hung up nicely”. He had a warm smile on his face, reminiscing tends to bring a little joy to him. “I think that’s just honorable,” Byakuya said warmly. “You think so?”. Byakuya nodded, the smile on Kazuichi’s face spreading. “Thanks,” he mumbled, but spoke up,“We should keep in touch, y’know?”. Byakuya began to think. He wasn’t really one for friends, Kazuichi was extremely beneath him. On the other hand, he was interesting to talk to and didn’t seem like a pest, right?

“That’s fine”

“Alright! How about we meet up during the island celebration? Tonight?”

Byakuya nodded, he didn’t know why, but he nodded. “Cool! See you later, Togami”. Kazuichi ran off, going to see if he can help with cleanup someway. As he ran, Byakuya had just realized he agreed to hang out with someone who he had just met. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it was just weird to him. I guess, he just seemed nice enough. Whatever. Now that the Tragedy is over, it’d be nice to return things to normal. Byakuya was ready to make new partnerships and if his first besides his classmates was to be Kazuichi, so be it.

Later that evening, Byakuya made sure to attend. He got there early, making it easier to spot Kazuichi. He was around Gundham and Sonia, who had begun warming up to him. Their eyes locked, Byakuya waved. Kazuichi waved back as he called for him,“Togami! Wait up—”. He ran from his two classmates and to Byakuya. Everyone had gotten dressed up, Kazuichi in a nice little suit that complimented his hair. He had glasses on this time. “What a surprise!,” he cheered,“I thought you would’ve bailed!”. That was sad to say the least. “How could I do such a thing? I had to come anyway,” Byakuya explained,“Makoto can’t drive...he’s also in the Future Foundation”.

“So I’ve heard. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Why not?”

Byakuya was a pessimist, this we know. He was as pessimistic as they come. Hanging out with Kazuichi was something he told himself wouldn’t be worth his time, but he agreed, so he had to suck it up. To his surprise, hanging out with him wasn’t so bad. In fact, he’ll never admit it, but Byakuya actually enjoyed Kazuichi’s company. They went for a glass of punch, enjoyed the feast, danced with friends till dawn. Around 4am (because damn, this party was just never gonna end), they took it upon themselves to walk along the beach. As they walked, conversations took place. Byakuya went off on a rant about his limousine life, riding in one everyday and how he feared for his life when doing so. His limo made a sound that sounded as if it were going to fall apart any time soon.

“It was a scratching noise against the asphalt and absolutely terrorized me as a child. To this day, I won’t enter a limousine. I just can’t”

“Scratching? Gee, only thing that comes to mind is the exhaust coming down. Wish I could’ve seen it and told you for sure”

“I still have it in a hidden garage. It’s that valuable”

“Oh, nice! Maybe, I can stop by and see what’s wrong. You’ll have to drive it though”

Byakuya raised a brow. “You’re the mechanic, are you not?,” he asked. Kazuichi laughed nervously, nodding. “See, thing is...I get terribly carsick”. Well, that was new. It was confusing to Byakuya, just as the confusion hit, Kazuichi added:

“Isn’t that funny? The rich guy who’s scared of limos and the mechanic with carsickness”

Byakuya snickered,“Yeah, I guess that’s unheard of”.

They laughed, finding a perfect place to sit down. It was late. Dark and late, the sand was cool against their hands. They took off their shoes, setting them aside. The waves crashes on the shore, “So, what next?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was softer, Byakuya took notice. “What do you mean?,” he asked. Kazuichi pushed back his hair and shrugged. “I mean, now that we’re all free”. Byakuya took time to give a proper answer, he had a plan.

“Well, for starters, after we finish cleanup, do the very best to rebuild homes. Slowly as we become civilized again, I rebuild the Togami Conglomerate. It’s what my family would’ve wanted and for them, I’d do just about anything” “Wow” “And yourself?”

Kazuichi smiled, facing him. “I’ve been working on blueprints here and there to, get this, introduce new transportation for us all!”. Byakuya shrugged. “You haven’t heard the best part, though,” he added,“You’ll never guess what it is!”.

“Flying car?

“That sounds awesome— No! That’s not it at all!”

“What is it?”

Kazuichi bit back his smile and answered,“A monorail! One that goes super fast! I just know it’s possible! Average monorail? 70 miles per hour, but if I get it right, It could go 200 miles per hour...ore more!”. Now, Byakuya was smiling. “Impressive,” he responded,“It’d be very convenient for people to get around”.

“I’m glad you think so”

Kazuichi faced the ocean, sighing deeply. “I’ve just always wanted to build transportation, really fast ones,” he said,“My old man doubted me, though. He didn’t think it was realistic. He said cars I can do, but never anything past that. Something about cars is all the family knows, I dunno”.

“I think you can do it”

“You’re just saying things—”

“No, I know you can. You have something other geniuses lack. You have the heart. Where there’s heart, there is will”

“That means a lot coming from you”

“Why from me?”

Kazuichi explained that he knows about Byakuya’s family and they didn’t sound any easier, either. “We didn’t have good upbringings,” he said,“But you, you had it so hard. Yet, you overcame all of that shit. If you survived that and all of this, I know you can rebuild your conga line”

“Conglomerate?”

“Yeah, that”

They smiled. “Man to man,” Kazuichi added,“Is settling down in that plan?”. Byakuya hadn’t thought of that at all. Would he even want to settle down? Jesus. That was the last thing he expected to think about. “I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Byakuya answered,“I have no idea. That isn’t something that’s come to mind. While I’d like to have someone to continue my legacy, I just don’t know. Tell me about your plan?”. Kazuichi was confused now, he didn’t think Byakuya was gonna return the question. “I would like to, but who’d love me?,” he muttered. He continued.

“I never had the best luck with women, but then sometimes, I sit and wonder,’Do I really feel this way about women?’ I try to be such a people pleaser, I sometimes don’t even know if I genuinely like something or if I say I do because that’s what’s expected of me and I’ve never told anyone else that, wow”

Byakuya sucked at being comforting, we also know this, but he really wanted to be there for Kazuichi. “I think I’m gay,” Kazuichi blurted, covering his mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”. Byakuya shook his head,“First of all, congratulations”. Kazuichi couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Second of all, don’t apologize for being truthful to yourself,” he said,“I’m not exactly of heterosexual persuasion either”.

“Oh, thank god. I though I was going to be killed and thrown into the ocean”

“Nah, because who on this island is straight? Absolutely no one”

“You might be right...wow. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gaaaayyy”

Byakuya laughed,“Let it out, I guess”. “I’ve just never said that out loud! It feels so freeing!”. Kazuichi stood up and ran to the ocean. At the top of his lungs, he professed his attraction to men. He ran back, only for them to hear someone say. “You love who you love, man, more power to ya!”. They laughed at that moment, laughed so hard their stomach cramped. “Who even was that?,” Kazuichi sobbed.

“I think that might’ve been Yasuhiro”

“O-Oh, at least you know him”

They calmed down, enjoying their time on the sand. “This was fun,” Kazuichi mumbled. “I agree”. He scoot closer to Byakuya, who unknowingly wrapped his arm around his waist. He caressed his sides, softly. Kazuichi lay his head on Byakuya’s shoulder, which he didn’t mind. There was just something really comforting about this. “What’s most important to you in a relationship?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was still soft, but unlike before, it wasn’t stern or blue. “For both of us to have ambition and goals set,” he answered,“What’s important to you?”.

“I just wanna trust someone. It’s hard for me to trust anyone, really. So as long as I can trust them and they’re kind, that’s all I want”

“Well, I’m a brutally honest cunt”

“I love brutally honest cunts”

He laughed as he continued to rub down his sides. As the saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Plus, tonight was going just great. “Look at me,” Byakuya said. “Hm?”. Kazuichi faced him, only to be grabbed and pulled to Byakuya’s lips. He gasped, a blush coming across his face as Byakuya kissed him ever so tenderly. They pulled away slowly. Kazuichi covered his face, Byakuya reaching for his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “No! Its okay!,” he blurted,“It was more than okay! I-I’ve just never kissed another dude before. Okay, I’ve never actually kissed anyone else”.

“Oh?”

“Well, I have, but not like this”

“I can tell. Your lips, they were so soft and inexperienced. Untouched, I’d say”

As Byakuya said this, he placed his thumb gently on Kazuichi’s lips, sliding it down soft and slowly; he shuddered before he spoke. “I want you to kiss me again,” he muttered against his sliding thumb. “Good”. Kazuichi’s breath hitched as Byakuya grabbed his jaw, gently kissed him. He kissed back now with more readiness, his hand digging into the sand. Byakuya’s hand moved from his jaw to his throat, gripping softly. A sweet moan escaped Kazuichi’s lips, making him bite Byakuya’s bottom lip. He winced, pulling away momentarily. “Sorry,” he whispered. Byakuya reassured him it was okay, but Kazuichi shook his head. “Let me kiss it better,” he cooed, pushing Togami on his back. Soda straddled him, pecking his lower lip.

Now, Byakuya was blushing.

“Ah, don’t hate me, but I kinda drew blood”

“You? Withdraw blood? With those teeth? Also unheard of”

“Hey! Shut up about my teeth”

“I like your teeth”

“I like you”

“Really? Prove yourself truthful”

“Say less”

“WHAT THE FUCK”

Soda quickly got off of Togami, who sat up just as fast. There stood Hiyoko, Mahiru, Ibuki, and Mikan. “Hey girls!,” Kazuichi waved,“Togami was just helping me find my glasses. We found them know, so there’s no need to worry”. “Oh don’t worry, we were just on our way to the cabins,” Mahiru explained. “What goes on in the cabins stays in the cabins! Wooho- ouch!”. Hiyoko acting as if she didn’t just nudge the fuck out of Ibuki. “Y-You know, if you two are going to, uhm, continue what you were d-doing here,” Mikan began to suggest,“Maybe you c-could go get a cabin too. The others are headed over here”. Kazuichi looked at Byakuya, who nodded. “Okay then! Let’s go!”.

So there they were, following the girls to the cabins. “I say we go to mine, just to be safe,” Kazuichi explained,“Besides, I got to clean up. It looks greats now”. Byakuya just nodded, he couldn’t utter a word. For some reason, his heart was pounding out of his chest. The girl’s split from them, giggling as they entered their room. “Home sweet home,” Kazuichi said as he opened the door. They stepped in, Kazuichi locking it. He had turned the lights on, but once he jumped on his bed, Byakuya turned them off. “Oh, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?,” Kazuichi teased as he held his arms open for Byakuya to crawl in. He did just that, kissing him all over. He focused on his lips for about 30 seconds, before moving on to his neck, and finally he unbuttoned his shirt a little to kiss along his chest. Feeling his shirt unbutton, Kazuichi took it upon himself to do the same to Byakuya, except unbuttoning it all.

“Togami..

“Yeah?”

“Lay down”

“Alright”

Byakuya lay down as Kazuichi got between his legs, hands on his belt buckle. “Can I...?”. Byakuya nodded, giving Kazuichi permission to take it off. Carefully, he slid off his jeans and briefs, exposing his pale cock. At that point, it was quite obvious that Kazuichi had no idea as to what he was doing and supposed to do. He began by grabbing his cock, licking at his tip a little, stroking him. Byakuya snickered as Kazuichi’s eyes met his, but breathed deeply. He put his mouth over it, bobbing his head, accidentally hitting his throat. He gagged, but not loudly. Byakuya played with his hair, not yet grabbing it. “Take your time,” he comforted,“I want you to enjoy this as much as I am...Fuck~ you’re doing so well”.

Kazuichi was really, really struggling. He had to think back to the most realistic porno he’s ever seen. What were these people doing that he hasn’t? Try being sloppy maybe? Cursing himself for his lack of education in gay sex (well, actually, just sex in general), he worked with what he knew. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself. Little did he know, he was actually putting Byakuya on edge. Byakuya hardly cursed and when he did, it was for good reason. Like right now, Kazuichi was giving him the sloppiest head in that moment. He was doing so well, Byakuya became fixated his mouth. Something about his mouth drove him insane.

And then there was Kazuichi, still believing he was doing terrible. His thoughts were racing.

I know I’m doing something wrong...

Is he even enjoying it?

God, I’m so out of his league...

Maybe if I just spit...

What would my dad think of this? Wait, my dad’s dead—

Kazuichi allowed himself to drool all over his cock. Byakuya moaned, pushing his head back. “No more, I’m so close...,” he gasped,“I’d prefer to finish elsewhere...”. Kazuichi’s stomach sank. “O-Oh,” he stuttered,“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay down”. Byakuya got in between his legs now, removing his jeans amd boxers, examining him, realizing he’d look better completely nude. Kazuichi shivered, which he also took note of. “Let me pull a bedsheet over us,” he said,“You look cold”. “Thank you,” Kazuichi muttered as Byakuya fumbled for the covers.

“Better?”

“Still a little chilly”

“Okay, Uhm- how about now?”

Byakuya held Kazuichi with his arms wrapped around him, bare chests making contact. “Feels so nice,” he mumbled. Byakuya placed a kiss on his chest before warning him about prep.

“Please be gentle”

“I will be, just relax. Breathe”

Kazuichi was shaking at this point, he was so nervous and didn’t know why. Byakuya held him tightly, stopping himself from entering even a finger in the guy. “You’re shaking,” he noted,“Is everything okay?”. Kazuichi nodded, explaining,“This is my first time, I just want you to be gentle”. Byakuya helped him work on his breathing. He placed a warm hand on his chest, making sure his heart rate slows down. “There,” he whispered,“I’m gonna go slow”. Kazuichi nodded, bracing himself.

Prep wasn’t actually bad?

He took Byakuya’s first two fingers well, but then the third one made him whine (and cry a little). Nonetheless, he just wanted to get it over with. The pain had gone away once Byakuya had curled his fingers a few times. Kazuichi made small noises as he took his fingers, whining when pulled out. With his other hand, he cupped Kazuichi’s jaw, but slowly slit it down to his throat. Kazuichi gasped as he felt Byakuya’s grip tighten. “I’m going to ruin you ever so softly,” he whispered,“Understood?”.

“Yes...”

“Good”

Byakuya took his cock out, placing Kazuichi’s legs on his shoulders. Still tight, he groaned as he pushed in. “Ah! Fuck...”. Along with being filled by Byakuya’s cock, the grip on his throat remained, sending a wave of pleasure through him. Byakuya kept his thrusts slow, just like be promised. “I-Is this okay?,” Byakuya managed.

“Harder”

“I just started. D-Don’t you want to ease into it first”

“No, just— please. Also...”

Kazuichi moved his hand to Byakuya’s choking hand, pressing it down harder against him. “What you’re asking for could hurt you, um...Are you sure?,” Byakuya asked. Kazuichi nodded, fisting Byakuya’s hair and pulling him in for a heated kiss. In response, Byakuya only thrust harder into him. He knew he wouldn’t last long, seeing Kazuichi’s already fucked out face. Each thrust only made his blush deepen and his stomach acids find new ways to make him feel sick. Byakuya came to the realization that his cock already had the guy in shambles and in a trance, almost. He was making him feel good, but he knew that he wasn’t exactly fucking him the way he should be fucked, deserves to be fucked. He wasn’t hitting his sweet spot just right, Byakuya taking it upon himself to experiment with his thrusts.

“Ngh! Hey, why’d you stop doing that? It felt— Ah!”

Found it.

Byakuya tried thrusting with his cock in that angle, but realized it was harder in this position. “Ass up,” he sighed, slightly out of breath. Kazuichi didn’t hesitate whatsoever, immediately laying on his stomach with his ass in the air. Sure, he already felt weak in his knees, but that wouldn’t stop him from letting Byakuya do him the way he was about to.

It didn’t take long for Byakuya to rediscover this new spot, hitting it repeatedly. Kazuichi dug his face into the soft, white pillows; practically screaming as he was unraveling underneath Byakuya. His whines were perpetual and if you listened closely, you could hear exactly what he was saying in a quiet breath.

“Yesyesyes, oh! Please don’t stop now pleasepleaseplease I can’t take it anymore, Ah! I love you, I love you so much, I really love you, o-oh thank you..”

Byakuya smiled at his low, yet raspy words. I love you? “How cute,” he muttered, pulling his messy pink hair back. Kazuichi’s hand shook as he moved it too his leaking cock. “I’m close, Togami, please don’t stop”. Byakuya snickered,“I don’t plan on it”. Gently, he shoved his head back down onto the pillow, also nearing his high. Without warning, Byakuya came after a few thrusts. Feeling his warmth, Kazuichi came right after. He collapsed onto the mattress, head in the pillows and trying his very best to catch his breath. As he took deep breaths, Byakuya smiled as his fingers walked up the blushing boy’s back, tracing small circles and figure eights.

“You’re too kind”

“You deserve it,” Byakuya whispered, placing a hand on Kazuichi’s hip and kissing up and down his back (and to his neck). Kazuichi turned around, Byakuya getting to kiss his stomach a few times before being pulled up by Kazuichi. “Ah!”. He laughed as he held Byakuya tighter, nuzzling him. Byakuya may have been taller, but Kazuichi was definitely stronger.

“Gotcha”

Byakuya would be annoyed, but not when Kazuichi has the goofiest and most smug look on his face. Eventually he let him go, laying by him. Kazuichi’s hair was ruined by their little night Basically, he ended up with his tiny braid undone. Kazuichi twirled his excess hair in between his fingers. “Oh- Allow me,” Byakuya said, finding the rubber band used to fasten the hair, braiding. Kazuichi’s eyes stared at him lovingly, watching Byakuya put his glasses back on just to redo his braid. “Annnnnd...done”. Byakuya rubbed his chest before reaching for the the ground and picking up his briefs, putting them back on. He tossed Kazuichi his boxers.

“Thanks”

“Of course”

They lay next to each other, Kazuichi playing with Byakuya’s hair. “I’m so glad I met you,” Byakuya admitted. “Ditto”. Byakuya grabbed his chin, pulling him in for a slow, passionate kiss. Suddenly, the door creaked open, but two girls rush in, already fondling each other.

“Excited, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be when you look so—”

Kazuichi and Byakuya stared at the two women, who awkwardly stared back.

“Togami?”

“Fukawa?...WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH NAEGI’S SISTER?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE MECHANIC?”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t”

“Sounds good to me! Come on, Komaru”

The girls ran out, thus allowing Kazuichi and Byakuya to finish their little makeout session. Eventually, it tired them out, sleeping in each other’s arms. Before sleep, Byakuya wondered something, but decided it could wait. The next morning, Kazuichi woke up first, planting a small kiss on Byakuya’s lips. As his eyes fluttered open, Kazuichi gasped. “My prince has finally awoken”.

“Silly”

“I know”

Byakuya kissed him properly, getting up to bathe. Upon entering the shower, he heard the door open. “Can I join?!”. Byakuya invited him in, closing the shower door. “Did you want something before we go?,” Byakuya asked, making Kazuichi blush. “Uh, no, um...did you?”. Byakuya shook his head.

“I just wanted to shower with you”

“I see. Help me with my hair, I’ll help you with yours”

Kazuichi nodded, grabbing the shampoo and lathering it into his hair. It didn’t take long to add in the conditioner in too since his hair was short. Now, Byakuya got to Kazuichi’s hair. He took care of Kazuichi, being less awkward about washing him up. It’s not that Kazuichi wasn’t into helping him, he was insecure about touching him. He wanted to do it right, sometimes doubting himself and what he was doing. Byakuya on the other hand, was confident in what he was doing as he massaged Kazuichi’s scalp whilst washing him. “Did you mean it?”.

“Mean what?”

“Last night while I was destroying you from the inside out—”

“Of course”

“—you said you loved me....well, did you mean it? I know people say things they don’t mean in a state of bliss, but-”

“Togami, I meant every word”

Byakuya’s heart skipped a beat as Kazuichi spoke. “If you mean it, tell me right now that you love me,” he ordered. “I love you, Togami. Do you love me?”. Byakuya held onto him, hugging him tightly. “Well, I guess this is my answer,” Kazuichi laughed,“Hey— Are you crying?”. Obviously crying, (because he was emotional for some reason) Byakuya backed away.

“Of course not! Me? Crying? No, never!”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Was this too fast?”

“What? You’re telling me you don’t believe in love at first sight?”

“I guess I do”

They finished up their shower and got dressed, heading out. Everyone had already met up at the dock. “Jesus, where the hell were you two?!,” Makoto asked, genuinely concerned. “Yeah, we were about to go search,” Hajime added. “I was helping Kazuichi pack something. I saw him struggle in his room with it,” Byakuya said, calmly. Kazuichi just went along with it. “Yeah, my tools wouldn’t pack well,” he explained,“Togami was just helping me stuff everything into my toolbox”. A low mutter was heard, but you’d have to be close enough to understand it.

“Yeah, right. That toolbox wasn’t the only thing Byakuya was stuffing...—”

“FUKAWA!”

“Alright! That does it for the headcount!,” Makoto announced,“Let’s get going. We have a rebuilt city to settle into!”. As everyone cheered on boarded the boat with their own individual classes, Byakuya rushed closer to Kazuichi. “Will I see you again?,” Kazuichi asked.

“Soon. May I kiss you goodbye, or would that be too much a cliche?”

“Yeah, but I love cliches. All the best movies have ‘em”

“So do I”

They kissed tenderly, Byakuya holding his waist. They pulled away, smiling. “See ya around,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Goodbye, Souda”.

[recurring-polynya]

@trulytaka​ asked: um i’ve always dreamt about a tattoo artist!renji falling for a client AU. it’s okay if you can’t come up with anything, just a suggestion!

How is it even possible that I have never read a Tattoo Artist! Renji AU?? (If there is one, please, send it to me immediately). Anyway, I got way too enamored of this idea, this is not even remotely a drabble, it is 4400 words and it is incredibly self-indulgent, I am absolutely not sorry.

It takes place in America and everyone is Japanese-American, because I am way more comfortable writing about American tattoo culture. I have never actually read a Tattoo Artist AU, I don’t know how they are supposed to go, this is just based on my own experiences getting inked. It’s mostly a story about Rukia and Renji being incredible nerfballs, there are not nearly enough stories about Rukia being a nerfball around Renji.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀     🛹     💕

Izuru Kira found Renji Abarai in the break room, simultaneously trying to cram a burrito into his face and read a Hellboy comic. He was holding the comic open with his elbow in an attempt to avoid spilling guacamole on Abe Sapien.

“Your two o’clock is here,” Izuru informed his distinguished colleague.

“Oh, great!” Renji replied, creasing the foil wrapper into a spout so that he could pour the last of the salsa drippings into his mouth.

“She’s waiting in the consult room,” Izuru went on, watching Renji toss the crumpled foil ball across the room, completely missing the trash can. “Look, have you met her before? A Miss Kuchiki?”

“Just exchanged a few emails,” Renji replied, as he scrubbed his hands at the sink. “Why? Is she scary?”

“Not in the usual way of Abarai clients,” Izuru replied. “I was just… wondering if she was... in the right place.”

“Her request was very specific,” Renji replied, scooping up his comic and the manila folder underneath it. “In fact, I am quite proud of what I came up with for her.” He whipped the folder open.

Izuru stared at it for a moment. “That is so specific.”

“I honestly think this is one of the best tatts I have ever designed. I hope she’s a real weirdo, because not just anyone deserves a masterpiece of this caliber.”

“Mmm,” Izuru agreed. “Yeah. Anyway, if there’s been a, uh, miscommunication, see if you can just… redirect her. Both Momo and I are in today, okay?”

Renji scoffed and stuffed his comic in Izuru’s hand as he marched down the hall toward the consult room. A miscommunication. Renji wondered what was wrong with her. She was probably mousy and wore glasses. Izuru always assumed girls like that would rather have a sad poem about the sea or a sprig of herbs inked on her wrist (conveniently, his specialties). Plenty of mousy girls with glasses would rather rock some fangs or dripping daggers, in Renji’s professional experience.

“Knock knock!” he announced, as he slid the door open. He took one step into the room and stopped dead.

Rukia Kuchiki was not mousy. She did not wear glasses.

Renji didn’t know much about suits. He did not happen to own one himself. But he guessed that Rukia Kuchiki’s suit was expensive, in part because it fit her perfectly, despite her tiny frame. It was jet black, and didn’t have a single speck of lint or cat hair on it. Her perfectly manicured hands were folded neatly on top of her crossed legs. She was wearing very tall, very pointy heels. Their soles were bright red, which Renji had learned from television meant that they were super expensive. He realized that he probably shouldn’t be looking at her legs, even though they were very nice to look at. His eyes snapped up to her face, but that honestly wasn’t any better.

Renji wasn’t often attracted to women, but she had probably the most interesting face he had ever seen-- heart-shaped, with big, dark eyes, a sharp chin, the cutest little nose. Her make-up was subtle and professional, and her hair was swept up with a clip, although it must be fairly short, because a few pieces hung down in front of her ears, and a thick lock dangled between her eyes.

She looked like a mean lawyer from a movie, one that would drive a fancy sportscar like an act of violence. Scary, for sure. But not in the usual way of Abarai clients, who tended toward the large and beefy, not that sharp and sharklike.

That nose, though.

Suddenly, her face split into a big grin. “Hi,” she announced brightly. “I’m Rukia Kuchiki.” She had a deep voice, a very beautiful voice. “You must be Renji Abarai.” Her eyes flicked to his arms. “I mean, of course you are, who else would have those arms? They’re so cool.”

“My arms?” Renji said stupidly. “Are they… famous?”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, well, I follow you on Instagram, and you don’t have any pictures of your face, but your arms are in a lot of the shots and they’re, well, they’re kinda distinctive. Do you think, um, would you mind if I looked at them?”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. It’s not like he wasn’t used to having his arms checked out, but most people were more… subtle about it. Oh, well, it was her dime. “I didn’t do them myself, obviously,” he pointed out, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt so she could see the baboon skull on his left shoulder. A skeletal arm traced down the rest of that arm, complete with an outline of his own hand bones. On the right side, a snake spine coiled around his bicep, ending with a hissing skull. “I mean, it was my design, but my friends-- the other three tattoo artists here-- all helped ink me up.” He plopped down in the chair that sat catty corner to the couch where Rukia was sitting, and held his arms out. “We’re sort of a full-service studio. I’m the skeletons and monsters guy. Izuru, the guy you met on desk duty today-- is good at calligraphy and watercolors and little, itty bitty tattoos. Momo is our nature girl, she specializes in flowers and animals, and she’s great with bright colors. The snake skull was all her. Shuuhei is really into classic tattoo art-- you need a hula girl or a heart with an arrow through it, he’s your man. He’s also incredibly talented at revamping old regret tattoos, there’s good money in that.”

“Mm,” Rukia agreed, finally tearing her eyes away from his forearms to look up at his face, and abruptly turned even pinker. A lot of people fantasized about getting a tattoo and then got a bad case of nerves when it was time to make the leap. Maybe all this was way out of her comfort zone. Renji was trying his best to be friendly and chatty, which usually helped, but he was not used to dealing with this class of lady. He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too familiar.

“Actually,” Rukia went on, pulling on her fingers nervously. “I picked this place specifically because of you. For your work, I mean. I’m kind of a big fan. I saw some of your paintings at an exhibition over at the Fine Arts College, and I just, you know, fell in love. I’d always thought I’d like to get a tattoo someday, and when I found out that you were a tattoo artist, I knew it had to be you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, and I’m babbling and I’m really sorry, I’m just very excited.”

Renji blinked. “You’re not babbling,” he replied slowly. He was sort of hoping she might say some more things about how much she liked his art in her beautiful voice. “Wait, an exhibition at the art school? That must have been at least three years ago, when I was doing my MFA.”

“Er, right,” Rukia looked a little sheepish. “A friend of mine had some work in the same exhibit, you probably don’t know her. My favorite one of your paintings was the one with the Black Lagoon creatures eating hamburgers at a diner, but I also really liked the one that was like a huge monster with a big bone mask stalking through a city, the way you did the shadows was just incredible.”

That particular painting was currently wrapped in brown paper and stuffed behind Renji’s couch. His last boyfriend had told him it was “creepy.”

“Uh, glad you liked it,” Renji managed. “Who was your friend?”

“Her name is Inoue. Orihime Inoue.”

“Oh, the robot girl!” Renji exclaimed. “Er, I mean she drew robots. Constantly. For every assignment. I didn’t mean to imply she was… robotic. In any way.” Jeez, Abarai, pull it together, he chided himself. “Yeah, I remember her. I didn’t know her well, but she sure could draw some tight robots. Is, she, uh, doing well?”

“She’s doing storyboards for a stop-motion animation studio,” Rukia replied.

Renji smiled. “That sounds perfect for her.”

Rukia bit her bottom lip and Renji’s throat went dry.

“So, um, you said in your email that you would have a design for me to look at?”

Renji realized that he was gripping the folder like a doofus. “Right! I did a couple of variations,” he explained, passing it from one hand to the other. “But you explained the concept pretty clearly, and I’m really happy with how the first one came out. I mean, obviously, it’s your tattoo! Please give me any feedback you have, you won’t offend me, even if you hate it! Tattoo designs often take a few iterations, it’s very normal, don’t hold back.”

She was staring at him, those big eyes wide and sparkling. “Can I… see it?”

“Oh! Right!” He shoved the folder at her.

Rukia opened it up and gasped.

“I especially love the way you draw skeletons,” Rukia’s email had read. “Do you think you could tattoo a grim reaper doing a sick kickflip on a skateboard onto my outer bicep? I do lift, so I am pretty jacked, if that makes a difference.”

“It’s perfect,” Rukia sighed in a tiny voice.

“Um, in the first variation (that’s page 2) I added some sunglasses, and in the second one, the grim reaper is flipping the bird and also its head is on fire. I guess I thought that grim reapers should be gender neutral but now I’m wondering if you would have preferred more of a… lady grim reaper?” Renji yammered absently.

“Oh, no,” Rukia murmured softly, flipping through the pages. Renji wasn’t even sure she had listened to a word he had said. “These are amazing. I love the sunglasses, but I also like the way you put little flames in the eye sockets in the first one…” She waved a hand absently. “Oh, and don’t worry, I like a non-binary skeleton.”

A small problem had just occurred to Renji. “Hey, um, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I… may have overestimated the size of your arms.”

“Oh?” Rukia asked, and abruptly shucked off her expensive suit jacket. She was wearing a pale purple sleeveless silk blouse underneath. She held one arm out experimentally, and then flexed. The muscle definition on her bicep made Renji take an involuntary swallow, but the fact that she was wicked cut did not buy him much in the way of real estate.

“I’ll just shrink it down maybe 25%,” he reassured her. “I’ll have to simplify some of the detail on--”

“No,” Rukia frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t do that.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not committed to having it on my arm.” She uncrossed her legs and hefted one high-heeled foot onto the coffee table in front of her. “What do you think? Is my thigh big enough?”

Renji tried to make words come out, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Er… sorry,” Rukia said slowly, tugging at her hem. “I forgot I was wearing a skirt today.”

“Huh?” Renji scrambled to recover. He needed to say something. She looked really embarrassed. Say something! Say something professional about her leg! “Sorry, I was, uh, thinking!” Good, good, now keep going. “Don’t be self-conscious, I see people’s bodies all the time. Bodies are no big deal, we all got ‘em, right?” This was true in the abstract sense, but he knew these were blatant lies as they exited his mouth. Most people’s bodies were no big deal. He had only known her for five minutes, but was certain that Rukia Kuchiki’s thighs were a very big deal. He studied her leg, stroking his chin, like he was some kind of anthropologist of thigh tattoos. Mostly he was trying to figure out what would seem like an appropriate amount of time to look at a person’s thigh, a person who was your professional client that you most definitely did not have the hots for. “There’s certainly plenty of room,” he declared. “But, you know, people are going to see it less. Which is a selling point for some people! It’s just a personal decision that you’ll have to make. It sounds like you had a big vision.”

Rukia gingerly placed her foot back on the floor. “I had actually been wondering if maybe the upper arm was too public, anyway,” she admitted. “The fact is, I just got full access to my trust fund, and this is sort of a celebration, but I may have been a little overeager to piss off my big brother. He’s very stodgy.” She contemplated the area of her leg that was covered by her pencil skirt. “But so are a lot of people in my field. I can wait until I’m running my own company before I get started on the full sleeve of my dreams, right?”

“Worked for me,” Renji replied, utterly lost by whatever she was talking about. “What… field are you in?”

“Oh, finance,” she dismissed.

Finance. Of course. Renji tried to shoo away the weight of disappointment that was settling in his stomach. He was talking to a friendly client who was clearly loaded, loved his work, and was contemplating thousands of dollars worth of future business. He should be thrilled. He should probably be trying to sell her one of his old paintings-- they were only gathering dust, anyway. Renji would never break the studio policy about hitting on clients. The fact that she would surely laugh at him if he asked her to his favorite burger joint ought to make things easier, right?

“This is so hard!” Rukia declared, and Renji was shaken from his reverie. She was just contemplating his draft designs again, though, flipping back and forth between them.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he reassured her. “You can think about it and email me. If you’re happy enough, we can schedule your session, and we’ll work out the details between now and then. Chat it over with your pal MechaHime, she’s got good opinions.” He paused. Momo always said he was too nice during consults, they were running a business, but he couldn’t help it. “Or you can just call back when you’re ready. No pressure.”

Rukia slammed her fist down on her knee. “No! Let’s schedule it! Do I pay now?”

“20% deposit. Let’s go out front, Izuru will ring it up.”

“Perfect.” She looked longingly at the drawings again. “Can I take these with me? You’re absolutely right, Orihime will know what to do.”

Renji wrinkled his nose. “It’s actually against studio policy but…”

Rukia’s face suddenly became very serious. “Then it’s against policy.” She winked at him and smiled. “You should take care of your intellectual property, Mr. Abarai.”

“I never get over to this part of town, to be honest,” Rukia admitted as they walked back up to the front. “Is the taco place across the street any good?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Renji agreed. “Momo and I painted a huge mural on their wall, so they give us free churros.”

“Are tacos a good post-tattoo celebratory meal?” Rukia asked curiously.

“Well, you actually want to eat beforehand,” Renji pointed out. “It’s important to keep your energy up. I don’t estimate yours should take very long, I’m gonna book you a two-hour slot.”

“Ah, okay,” Rukia agreed, and Renji realized belatedly that...maybe… she had been asking him out? No. Surely not. His brain scrabbled for a response, but then he stepped into the reception area and his brain shut down entirely.

“It’s DONE!” Shuuhei bellowed. “Behold my work, ye mighty, and despair!”

Tetsuzaemon Iba, serial client, yakuza enthusiast, and assistant manager at a doggie day care, was flexing. He was not wearing a shirt.

From behind the reception desk, Kira was wearing a dour frown and shaking his head.

“It’s a masterpiece,” Renji declared. “I admit I was skeptical, but it looks fantastic, man. You happy with it?”

“It” was a massive tattoo, covering the wide landscape of Iba’s broad back. It featured a lucky cat, grinning maniacally, its paw held high. It was on fire. The kanji for “lucky charm” was incorporated somehow. It was a disaster. It was perfect.

“How could I not be?” Iba boomed.

“Whoa,” a tiny voice behind Renji said.

Iba’s face went pale when he realized that he was being Peak Iba in front of an elegant, professional woman whose shoes probably cost more than his entire net worth. “Gimme me my shirt!” he demanded of Shuuhei.

“That’s… amazing!” Rukia exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Wow, how long did that take?”

Shuuhei blinked slowly as he passed Iba his shirt. “Five sessions.”

“Well, it’s so cute!” Rukia announced. “You must love cats.”

Iba lifted at the same gym as Renji and watched Momo’s Pomeranian on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was a regular fixture at the tattoo studio, and all four of them liked to drag him, but no one, none of them, had ever roasted him this hard. Renji cursed that no-asking-out-clients rule, because he wanted to buy Rukia Kuchiki her own body weight in tacos and then ask her to be his wife.

“He’s more of a dog person,” Shuuhei supplied.

“Great with dogs,” Izuru added.

“Shut up, you jerks, I am a lover of all animals,” Iba grumbled as he pulled his Hawaiian shirt over his shoulders. “Is this your lawyer, Abarai? Did you finally get arrested for that hairstyle?”

“I have an MBA, actually, not a JD,” Rukia replied matter-of-factly. “And I am his client. Can you show that large man my tattoo design? Is that allowed?”

Renji chuckled, and pulled out his drawing.

“That,” Iba declared, “is a wicked tatt.”

“Oh, you showed me that email!” Shuuhei recalled. “It came out great.” He regarded Rukia. “He was really excited about that one, you made his day.”

Rukia just beamed proudly.

“Are we booking a session, then?” Izuru asked hopefully.

“Yeah, two hours,” Renji nodded.

“Let me just finish ringing up Iba, and I’ll see when you’ve got an opening,” Izuru replied.

“This your first one?” Shuuhei asked Rukia conversationally.

“Mm-hmm,” Rukia nodded.

“Well, you made a good choice. Clean design, mostly black with just a few color pops, should go on quick and easy, and it’ll hold up really well, too.”

“This is Shuuhei, the one I was telling you about, who fixes a lot of bad tattoos.”

“I have never had to fix an Abarai tattoo,” Shuuhei declared. “He’s great with first timers. Very gentle. I’ve fallen asleep while he was inking me.” Shuuhei pointed to the pair of crossed scythes gracing his upper arm. “This is one of his.”

“Oooh, neat!” Rukia agreed.

“You’re being embarrassing,” Renji informed his friend.

“Always,” Shuuhei agreed. “Nice to meet you! I hope I get to see the finished product.” He waved to Iba as he headed off toward the back. “Don’t forget to moisturize!”

“Everyone’s so friendly here,” Rukia said softly to Renji. “This isn’t at all like I pictured it.”

Renji stretched his arms behind his head. “Nah, we’re just a bunch of goofballs who like drawin’ on people. Very lowkey.”

“I guess I’ve thought a lot about the getting tattooed part of getting tattooed, but I never thought of it as… a job. That people have.”

“It’s a great job,” Renji replied. “I love it. I’m just lucky that Izuru over there has enough business sense to keep the other three of us from running it into the ground.”

“That’s certainly the truth,” Izuru agreed, as Iba headed out the door. “Two hours, you said? Renji’s got a 4-6pm block open on a Wednesday, three weeks from now. The 24th, how does that work for you, Ms. Kuchiki?”

“Do you think that’s enough time to settle on a design?” Renji asked. “If you come up with changes, it should only take me a day or two to incorporate them.”

“Oh! Yes, three weeks should be fine. I thought… it might be a little sooner,” Rukia replied, sounding a tad disappointed.

“Abarai’s a busy man, three weeks is actually pretty quick,” Izuru explained.

“Right, of course!” Rukia nodded. “Yes, I’ll take the 24th!”

She then paid her deposit, a process which involved her taking approximately ten thousand items out of her purse, including a full-sized drawing pad, a single fingerless glove, and a Pez dispenser with a duck head. She was the most contradictory person Renji had ever met, and he just wanted to know everything about her. But instead, they were going to exchange a couple of emails about a grim reaper on a skateboard, he was going to spend an hour and a half two inches from her naked thigh in a state of intense, non-sexual concentration, and then he would likely never see her again.

“Okay, I guess that’s it!” Rukia said, stuffing the last of her worldly belongings back into the purse. “Three weeks, then!”

“Three weeks it is,” Renji agreed. “Unless we happen to run into each other at the taco place.”

Rukia blinked. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Right. Ha, ha, of course!” She’d been walking backwards toward the door, an impressive feat in those heels, and she spun suddenly to pull it open.

“It’s a push,” Renji and Izuru chorused together.

“Ha, ha, of course it is!” Rukia laughed nervously, and ducked out.

Izuru stared pointedly at Renji. “Wow,” he said.

“I don’t know what you have against her,” Renji scowled. “So she’s professional. She was really nice. She’s a big fan of my work.”

Izuru cocked his head. “She’s clearly also a big fan of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renji said.

“Look, I’m sorry I implied that a person who drives a Lotus Exige would not be interested in having your weird skeleton doodles permanently placed on her body,” Izuru held up his hands, “but did you really not notice the little hearts and singing birds floating around her head every time she gazed longingly at you?”

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Renji snapped.

“It looked fancy and I asked Shuuhei what it was, okay!”

On cue, Shuuhei burst back into the reception area, Momo close on his tail. “Are we talking about the hot client who has a crush on Abarai?”

“Did you ask her out?” Momo asked breathlessly.

“She’s not really his type,” Izuru mused. “Very corporate.”

Renji frowned. Did he have a type? If his type excluded people like Rukia Kuchiki, he might need to get a new type.

“Who cares, she was adorable!” Momo insisted. “I woulda asked her out.”

“Renji, if you go out with her, can you get me a ride in the Exige?” Shuuhei added.

“I’m not gonna ask her out!” Renji protested. “What happened to the no-hitting-on-clients rule?”

“The rule is no creeping on clients,” Shuuhei correctly. “This is different. She’s clearly into you, big time.”

“Also, she seems non-terrible, unlike the questionable human beings you usually take up with,” Izuru pointed out. “We could relax the rule if it netted you an actually decent partner for a change.”

Renji scowled judgmentally at Izuru, as if his own dating history had been remotely better before he and Shuuhei finally hooked up.

“Oh!” Momo waved her phone. “Speaking of which, I googled her, like you told me to, Izuru--”

“Izuru!” Renji protested.

“--and you were right! She’s not just one of the Kuchikis, she’s the granddaughter!” Momo thrust her phone in Renji’s face. It was some article about some fancy charity event, complete with a picture that was clearly Rukia, dressed in a dramatic black and gold evening gown.

Renji wanted to push Momo’s hand away, but he also didn’t want to stop looking at Rukia in that dress. “The who?” he asked.

Izuru and Momo sighed dramatically in synchronized exasperation.

“Embarrassingly rich old money family? I don’t know what they actually do, but they’re always in the newspapers, donating money for something or other--”

“Billionaire philanthropists,” Shuuhei intoned in a fake deep voice.

“--I heard they’re descended from some famous clan of samurai back in Japan,” Momo ignored him. She jerked her phone back and started tapping at it frantically. “I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the grandson-- Rukia’s brother, I guess. He always makes those lists of top ten hottest bachelors.”

“He’s dreamy,” Shuuhei seconded.

“Impossibly dreamy,” Izuru thirded.

Momo flipped her phone around again, to reveal a picture of a very serious, and very handsome man in a classic three-piece wool suit. Renji supposed “impossibly dreamy” was not an inaccurate description.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen pictures of that guy before,” Renji shrugged. “He’s okay. Rukia has a more interesting face, I think.”

Momo and Shuuhei exchanged raised eyebrows.

“You do like her, then?” Izuru asked, his face brightening. “You’re wrong, by the way, Byakuya Kuchiki has the face of an angel.”

“Rukia says he’s stuffy,” Renji shrugged. “And fine. I like her. She’s cute and nice and had good taste in tattoos. What’s not to like?”

“Are you gonna ask her out, then?” Momo pressed.

“Absolutely not,” Renji replied. “She’s my client. Besides, as you just pointed out, she’s loaded. What’s she want with a scumbag like me?”

All three of his friends groaned.

“You have good delts and sexy hair,” Izuru pointed out.

“You give amazing hugs!” Momo declared.

“You draw fantastic skeletons,” Shuuhei added. “Which, apparently, is relevant to her interests, and not a thing you usually find on Tindr.”

“Also, we’ve already established that she does like you, regardless of whether she has a valid reason for doing so,” Izuru concluded. “So, if you’re at all interested, you really shouldn’t let that stop you.”

“I think you should go for it,” Momo encouraged.

“Me, too,” Shuuhei agreed.

Renji grimaced. She was an amazing girl, too good to be true probably. If she had any sense at all, she would certainly turn him down. But maybe… just maybe… she didn’t have any sense. “Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. “I’ll do it. But not until I’m finished the damn tattoo!”

[beauregardlionett]

all the stars your eyes could hold

AO3 Link

The circumstances under which the Mighty Nein found themselves invited to yet another party in Nicodranas were unclear. Beau was fairly certain it involved someone wanting Marion to perform, but had placed it under the guise of requesting the Nein’s attendance.

Ever since they assisted in the tentative peace treaty between the Empire and the Dynasty, word had been getting around about them. It was mildly unsettling for someone like Beau, who meant to operate in shadow. Thankfully, her more exuberant and colorful party members tended to garner the spotlight.

Leaning against an obnoxiously ostentatious marble column, nursing a drink far too fruity for her taste, Beau scanned the crowd. Caduceus had offered to gift her with True Sight again, but Beau had turned him down. While she appreciated the gesture, she wanted to be present this time.

Nobles in all states of fancy dress swept across the dance floor before her. Women with billowing skirts as they twirled through the ballroom, offering tittering laughter behind fans or hands adorned in silk gloves. Men with ornate suit coats sporting flushed cheeks as they drank away their decorum. Individuals dressed in pristine costume somewhere between a full skirt and fitted breeches flit between the food and drink and the dance floor. It was the sort of contained, upright chaos that Beau grew up around in Kamordah. It was a breed of debauchery that masqueraded as a proper party only nobles could attend and achieve.

With a heavy sigh, Beau took a long drag of her overly sweet drink and prayed the night would end soon.

As much as she loved wearing her slate grey suit, catching many approving, hungry stares from the women here, Beau was tired. Parties like these were far too pompous for her, pointless entertainment for nobles who had nothing better to do with their time.

She was considering slipping out to the garden for some quiet when a soft voice spoke up behind her.

“Beau?”

Twisting to peer over her shoulder, Beau worked hard to maintain her hold on her drink.

Yasha strode toward her, all but glowing in the sensual party lighting.

Jester insisted on splurging for a new dress for Yasha the day before. Something about wanting to amend the height of the slit because she knew Yasha was a little uncomfortable with it. Whatever the real reason was, Beau had no arguments because Yasha’s new dress was stunning. Made of a similar dark velvet as the previous one, this new garment draped over Yasha’s physique enticingly.

The dress was one-shouldered, a long cape of soft fabric cascading down Yasha’s back from the sleeveless strap. Her neckline was trimmed with silver flower embroidery, and a simple off-white belt cinched the length of the skirt into an empire waist. Veth had gently bullied the Aasimar into letting the Halfling style Yasha’s hair. So her now almost entirely white hair was pinned to drape down one side, the braids re-done and ancient tangles brushed smooth.

Simple, elegant, and extremely attractive.

Beau reminded herself to thank Jester for remembering to put the cape on the arm Yasha didn’t have a tattoo on. The jade ink was shimmering in the party’s dim lighting, and Beau had to make sure she wasn’t drooling.

“Hey,” Beau finally remembered to answer, eloquent as always.

Yasha’s lips twitched as she chuckled, coming to stand beside Beau. The monk watched as Yasha’s eyes swept over the crowd, a bit of unease flickering across the woman’s expression.

“You okay, Yasha?” Beau murmured, shifting closer to where their shoulders brushed.

“Yeah,” the Aasimar said, aiming a smile Beau’s way that did anything but convince her that Yasha was okay. “I just don’t really know what to do at parties. And people keep staring at me.”

Beau could hardly blame them. But it seemed to be a reoccurring theme with Yasha that wherever she went, both the best and the worst seemed to be drawn toward the Aasimar’s aura. Beau often failed at reigning in her jealousy born of protective instinct.

“Well then,” Beau pushed off the pillar, downed her drink against the burn of alcohol in her throat, and beamed at Yasha. “Shall we wander, then?”

Yasha blinked at Beau, giving the human a slow, shy smile and a nod, a quiet, “sure.”

Making their way around the perimeter of the ballroom, Beau caught sight of Jester swirling Fjord around the floor. The little Tiefling was grinning ear to ear and Beau could see her giggling giddily as her pink chiffon swirled around her and Fjord’s legs. The half-Orc was smiling with fond amusement down at whatever Jester was saying, looking rather smitten. Their second lap around the ballroom, deep in discussion about what the Elf wearing a bright green ball gown might do for a living, Beau scanned again. This time she spotted Veth and Caleb sitting at a table with Caduceus, the Halfling talking with rapid intent and animated hand-gestures. Caleb seemed fixated on whatever she was talking about, nodding every few seconds. Caduceus, smiling indulgently, caught Beau’s eye after a second. The Firbolg raised a brow her way and made a slight shooing gesture.

Waving Caduceus off, Beau continued her conversation with Yasha. But she did subtly steer them towards the exit, remembering the small side garden she had spotted on the way in. Part of her hoped it would offer some quiet, the other part hoped to see that adorable grin Yasha got on her face whenever she saw flowers.

Sure enough, the second they stepped out of the side hall and into the moonlit garden, Yasha’s lips curled into a wider smile. Beau trailed off from her description of a very crude occupation the Elf back in the ballroom could have to watch Yasha smile. The Aasimar’s profile all but glowed in the silver night, Beau transfixed with the way Yasha’s smile pushed her cheeks to round and scrunched her nose just a little. Her eyes crinkled at the corners just so, and Beau studied the temporary crow’s feet that nestled there.

Yasha looked her way and Beau blinked back at her, smiling in return on instinct.

“It’s gorgeous out here, Beau. How did you know this was here?”

“I just...saw it on the way in. Figured you might like it better than inside.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Yasha agreed, sweeping a look over the flowers as she walked through the neatly planted flora. Beau followed, drawn toward her like a moon caught in orbit with no choice but to gravitate.

As they strolled through the garden together, Beau’s hands shoved in her pockets, she tipped her head back to stare at the stars and the low-hanging moon. Maybe it was the nearby ocean, but she swore the night sky always shone brighter in Nicodranas. Yasha’s hair caught Beau’s attention out of the corner of her eye, all but glowing in the silver moonlight.

Everything about the Aasimar beside her beckoned like a lure, and Beau wondered not for the first time how she could have ever lived without Yasha. It was one of those moments where she found herself hard pressed to remember a time before Yasha, before the Nein. There was always an unfortunate set of memories that never failed to surface, but the more mundane memories were harder to access. Everything she did with the Nein felt like they had always been together, had always understood her. Beau knew it wasn’t the truth, but she didn’t care.

They were with her now, that was what mattered.

Time, Beau thought, was such a fickle and inconsistent mistress. She always lingered, but she didn’t serve everyone kindly or evenly.

Some got less - like Mollymauk. Some got more - like Caduceus brought back from death. And some like Lucien got multiple chances, while others like Yasha couldn’t even recall what Time had already given them.

Beau, uncertain where she fell on that sliding scale, knew one thing for sure.

“Yasha,” Beau said in a voice that sounded steadier than she felt. Back near the building where they started, Beau spotted an alcove with a small pristine marble fountain tucked into it. The Aasimar looked over at Beau curiously as the monk grabbed Yasha’s elbow and huddled them into the corner.

Yasha looked surprised as Beau put her own back against the wall and drew Yasha in closer. Even in the half light from the moon, Beau saw the blush on Yasha’s cheeks turning darker, her sturdy hands finding purchase on Beau’s hips.

“I’ll be honest,” Beau sighed, emboldened by the simple action. “This isn’t quite how I pictured doing this. I had, like, this whole thing planned with the tower, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Yasha’s eyes seemed entirely transfixed on Beau’s lips, as if watching the monk craft every syllable she spoke.

“I read your letter,” Beau confessed in a rush. “I actually read it like...weeks ago. And at first I uh...I didn’t know what to do. I had told myself that I wouldn’t make a move, that the ball was in your court because of all the shit you’ve gone through. But then you did make a move, and I haven’t ever really had someone look at me and understand me in the way you do. So I kind of panicked and procrastinated and told myself I’d figure something out. But then all this shit kept happening, and it never felt like the right time to breach the topic, y’know? But then I realized...we’re never promised tomorrow. Especially people like us. So uh...in an effort to spend as much time with you as possible, because I really want to spend a lot of time with you...”

Beau had to pause for a breath, her own cheeks now warm with the emotions swirling messily in her chest.

“I really like you, Yasha,” Beau whispered, feeling short of breath. “In a way that’s kind of terrifying, but that I’m also super into. I like you in a way that makes me nervous, the same feeling I get when we do something fun and dangerous. My heart races and there’s this thrill in my veins. I get stuck in this five-foot world that’s composed of everything and everyone I can see in the moment.”

Biting down on her tongue to stop her rambling and catch her breath, Beau looked up at Yasha. The Aasimar’s fingers curled a little tighter around Beau’s hips, and her lips parted with surprise. Wide eyes and flushed cheeks greeted Beau’s frantic search for emotion, and the monk was acutely aware of her own heart pounding behind her ribs. The moonlight back-lit Yasha, outlining her in silver, and Beau swore for a moment that it crafted a halo above the barbarian’s head.

“Beau,” Yasha whispered. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Beau rushed out breathlessly. “Please.”

Yasha ducked her head down so quickly that the press of her lips against Beau’s ended up gently knocking the monk’s head against the wall behind her. Beau didn’t mind at all, too busy smiling against Yasha’s lips and reaching to wrap her arms around the Aasimar’s neck.

It felt like all the air fled from Beau’s lungs for a moment, leaving her breathless and dizzy. The wall at her back and Yasha’s hands on her hips seemed like the only things keeping her upright at the moment. She had wanted to kiss Yasha for a while, but had never put much thought into it beyond that. Beau never imagined what it would feel like to kiss Yasha.

It was like melting and solidifying in the same instance. Beau had never felt more bodily present than she did at that moment, every place Yasha connected with her a physical anchor for her soul. But in the same breath, every fiber of her insides turned to contented mush under the searing, moonlit heat of the Aasimar’s attention.

Their kiss could have lasted seconds or minutes, and Beau wouldn’t have cared either way. Yasha pulled back enough for their noses to brush as they caught their breath.

“Fuck,” Beau managed eventually, sounding strangled with giddy pleasure.

Yasha smirked and offered a quiet, “maybe later, yeah?”

Beau’s brain promptly short-circuited and she stuttered what one might consider an enthusiastic agreement. Yasha took amused mercy on her after a moment and stepped back to let Beau breathe.

“We should uhm...” Yasha started, then stopped, glancing over her shoulder.

“Head back in?” Beau squeaked, recovered enough to speak once more.

“Probably,” Yasha nodded. The Aasimar hesitated, holding out her arm in an awkward, wordless invitation. Beau stared at her for a moment before recognizing the gesture for what it was. Straightening out her jacket with a firm tug and brisk pat down, the monk wound her arm through Yasha’s elbow and shot a giddy grin her way.

Beau decided, as they made their way back into the ballroom, that this was definitely one of the best parties she had ever been to.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 24

<Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25>

++++

Karui tapped the pipe against the edge of the table. Ash fluttered down as the blue smoke rose up. She placed the tip in her mouth, leaning over to peek at the envelope.

“What is it, Grandfather?” she wondered, tilting her head to read the words.

Ebizo stroked his long beard.

“She is very much like her grandmother,” Ebizo murmured. He chuckled as he handed the letter over to Karui.

Karui’s fist rose to cover her mouth as she read through the contents of the letter. And then a laugh spurted out of her too.

“Oh, I wish I could see the expression on Prince Baki’s face. How terrible this is,” Karui sighed. She lowered the letter into her lap. “What will you do, Grandfather?”

Ebizo clucked his tongue. He held his hand out. With a guilty smile, Karui returned his pipe.

“The situation is actually quite straightforward. She’s made a reasonable request. And it will cost me very little to indulge her,” he mused.

“I thought she was just a military woman. I’m surprised to see such a cunning scheme from her,” Karui commented, looking down at the letter again. She blinked when Ebizo tapped his knuckles against the top of her head.

“Silly child. Do you think that branch of the family has survived so long in hostile lands simply by waving a sword around?” he scolded her. Karui rubbed her head, even though it hadn’t hurt at all. She blinked.

“I supposed not,” Karui said.

++++

Konohamaru swiveled his head around to check the alley behind him for what felt like the hundredth time. It hadn’t been easy to pin down a meeting with this person. And he wasn’t even certain if this was the person he needed to talk to.

Pulling his hood a little closer to his face, he ducked into the seedy little bar deep in the heart of the slums. Wary eyes fell on him when the door creaked. They followed him as he made his way to the bartender, an older woman with an eyepatch.

“Beat it if you don’t have any money, kid. This isn’t a charity,” the bartender grumbled.

But her visible eye widened when he pushed a golden coin across the counter towards her.

“I’d like to take some singing lessons,” he whispered. The bartender glared at him as she lifted the coin to her mouth. She bit down hard before she scrutinized the coin. And then she jerked her head for him to follow. Konohamaru looked around. When he couldn’t find a place to enter, he ducked under the bar to follow the woman past the wooden barrels of alcohol. To a small door in the back.

The bartender knocked in a peculiar pattern. There was a pause. And then a voice came from within.

“What?”

“You got a guest.”

“…Let the kid in.”

The bartender muttered something about being “full of herself”. She said nothing to Konohamaru as she hobbled her way back to the bar.

Konohamaru stared at the worn doorknob. He closed his hand around it and pushed. The door opened with little noise.

“You found the place alright. Not bad.”

It was just a dusty little room filled with barrels and shelves. There was a bed wedged into the corner, as if someone had squeezed it in last-minute. The woman sat at the foot of the bed. A lute case lay open behind her.

“You’re… the court musician,” Konohamaru said. But it was more of a question than anything.

Tenten leaned back on her palm, smiling. “Yeah.”

Konohamaru frowned. “How do I know I can trust you?”

It had been difficult to even find the musician in the first place. He knew there were messengers who ran for the General when she was in the capital. It had taken every moment of his spare time for a week to find one of them. And once he located the messenger, it had taken almost all of the money the General had given him to convince the man to point him in the direction of this tiny bar that didn’t even have a sign out front.

“A good question. And how do I know I can trust you, kid?” she wondered in return.

“I… I want to help the General,” he stated, a little helplessly. Because he had nothing else to support him. No documents, not that he could read anyway. No seal or ring to prove that he served someone more powerful than him.

Tenten tilted her head to the side as she appraised him.

“I’ve seen you tending the General’s horse. You really like her, don’t you?” she observed.

Konohamaru nodded.

“I owe the General. She picked me up when I was just some urchin who could sing. I’m not dumb enough to bite the hand that feeds,” Tenten then assured him. And then she sat up straight.

“So. What is this message you need to get to her?”

Konohamaru hesitated. And then he spoke. “Prince Naruto came to me in secret. He paid me to send word to Lieutenant General Inuzuka. I heard the Lieutenant General talk about how someone is shooting down… messenger birds? I don’t know why. But it has to do with the prince. And then he said he needed to send word quickly.”

Tenten scratched her arm as she took that in. “Well. Sounds like he’s going to tell the General, doesn’t it? Why come all the way here?” And then her hand stilled when she met Konohamaru’s eyes. He stared at her.

Tenten laughed. “Oh. You already know not to trust these people.” She tilted her head from side to side as she considered things. And then she got to her feet.

“Things are getting stale in the capital anyway. I might as well pay her a visit,” she decided.

Konohamaru fumbled when she suddenly reached inside her pocket and flicked him something. It was a silver coin.

“Thanks for the tip. But don’t give away this kind of stuff for free anymore. If you’ve got something I don’t have, you can profit in some way,” she advised him.

Tenten rode out of the city at dawn the next day. She joined up with a few merchants making their way up to Whitewave. She offered them a little coin to let her ride on the back of one of their wagons. She played songs to help pass the time. And by the time they arrived at the port city, the merchants were sad to see her go.

The city of Whitewave was run by Countess Inuzuka, an outspoken supporter of the General. The strong tie between the two women was reflected in their trade relations. The city was filled with exotic fruits and teas found nowhere else in the kingdom. It only took a day or so to find cheap passage to the Southern Tea Isle. In exchange, all Tenten had to do was play a few songs here and there to keep morale of the sailors up.

When Tenten arrived on the island, storm clouds hovered over the trees. She kept her head down and booked a room in one of the island’s more run-down taverns called The Sailor’s Rest. It wasn’t empty, but it also wasn’t crowded. As she climbed the stairs up to her room, Tenten noticed a few men occupying a table in the back. One of them eyed her in a sharp way, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. She made a note to herself not to linger too long here.

It almost didn’t surprise her when she realized that the General wasn’t here. It wasn’t like her to be quiet for so long. And she usually visited the mainland for a few months every year.

Tenten leaned against the bar in the Sailor’s Rest as she considered her options.

It was quite natural for most people to relay information to Admiral Haruno. The General’s cousin was well-known as her close confidante. Those who wished to curry favor with the General usually started with the Admiral first. But when she asked around, she found that the Admiral was quite busy. And with the General absent, there was no guarantee that any news would reach her quickly.

She tapped her fingers once. The bartender slid a tankard over to her. She nodded in his direction.

The man who had stared at her earlier was nowhere in sight. But at the same table was a huge, blue man. He offered her a smile, nodding before he turned his attention elsewhere. Tenten’s eyes narrowed when, a few minutes later, he made his way over to her.

“I’m not interested,” she stated before he could set his drink down.

The large man appraised her. Laughed.

“No offense. You’re an attractive woman. But that’s not it,” he replied. And then he offered his free hand.

Tenten stared at it. She considered swatting it away. She decided to shake it.

“Kisame Hoshigaki, handsome marauder and outlaw,” he introduced himself. And then he thought before he added, “Been working as the General’s security these days.”

She toyed with the idea of giving him a fake name. But she decided against it.

“Tenten.”

Leaning his elbow on the bar, Kisame jerked his chin toward her.

“You looking for her?” he questioned.

Tenten studied the man for a long moment. He was huge. The hand on his tankard made it look like a child’s cup. And that hand could easily bash her skull in. But then she had also noticed the way people who passed him greeted him with “Howzit, Big Blue” and “Hey there, brother”. Those sorts of greetings didn’t roll off the tongue overnight.

“Maybe,” Tenten responded.

She flinched back a little when the mercenary reached for his belt. He froze. Paused to give a pointed look, as if to reassure her. And then he rummaged around in the pouches on his belt until he produced a small gold ring. He could squeeze it onto his finger if he had to. But it was annoying to have anything on his hands, so he just carried it around on a gold chain instead. He handed the ring to her, keeping the chain looped around a couple of his fingers.

Tenten scrutinized the desert rose engraved into the gold.

“Never thought I’d see the day the General hired a mercenary,” she murmured. She handed the ring back to him.

Kisame flashed his pointy teeth.

“People keep saying that. It’s starting to hurt my feelings a little,” he replied.

Tenten glanced around the tavern. She tapped the bar a few times.

“Not here,” she declared. “Maybe the palace.”

Kisame snorted. “No.” He read the expression on her face and smiled again. “I know you want the palace because you want witnesses in case I try to kill you. But it’s not exactly the best place to exchange secrets right now,” he explained.

Tenten’s forehead wrinkled.

“The docks at dawn? The fishermen will be out then. Too far to eavesdrop. But close enough to see if either of us tries to stab the other,” Kisame suggested instead. He pointed at his chest, at the exact spot where Tenten had hidden a knife. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking down at herself. It was a well-concealed weapon. This man was even more dangerous than he appeared if he could figure that out just from a short conversation like this one.

Tenten’s eyes narrowed as she held the mercenary’s gaze.

When she gave him a stiff nod, Kisame looked satisfied. He told the bartender to get her another drink on his tab before he walked away. Tenten left the drink untouched, slipping out of the tavern as quietly as possible.

At dawn, Tenten was already at the docks, concealed in the shadows of one of the stalls that had closed for the night. She could see the huge mercenary standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. There was another man standing some distance away. Just in case they were planning an ambush, she kicked at a rock, sending it skittering across the path. Both men turned toward the sound. She was too far away to hear, but she could see Kisame turn toward the other man to say something. The second man departed with a wave of his hand. She couldn’t tell whether the wave was for Kisame or for her.

“The General mentioned she had a musician wandering around the capital. That’s you?” he said in greeting when she finally joined him. She stood a good distance away, her arms folded across her chest.

“Where is she?” Tenten asked.

Kisame sighed. “If she didn’t tell you, I sure as hell won’t.”

Tenten clicked her tongue. She couldn’t help but approve a little. She tried not to show it in her face.

“Can you read?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kisame answered.

She handed a note over to him. “Stableboy at Whiteriver Keep got wind of some strange happenings. Kid felt worried enough to come find me.”

Kisame unfolded the paper and read through the contents. His expression didn’t change. And when he finished reading, he tore up the paper and tossed it into the ocean.

“Lots of strangeness going around lately,” he grumbled.

Tenten stole a glance at the mercenary. At least he wasn’t asking stupid questions. She noticed a pebble at her feet. She nudged it into the water.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Tenten sniffed, unfolding and refolding her arms. “Don’t think so. I saw them bring more birds in. Lots of them. So seems like Little Namikaze isn’t lying about that, at least.”

Kisame paused mid-stretch as he took that in. Frowning, he turned to look at Tenten. She stared right back. Arching an eyebrow.

“They brought in more birds,” he repeated.

She nodded. “Crows from the north. Doves from the east. They do doves here don’t they?”

“So if they had to send more doves to Whiteriver, folks here would know…” mused Kisame, trying to put the pieces together.

Tenten didn’t quite follow his line of thinking. “Someone has to sign off. So… whoever’s in charge while the General’s gone, I guess.”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed. “Then there’s no way they wouldn’t notice something like this unless they were signing off with their eyes closed.”

Tenten’s arms dropped.

“Are you saying that-”

“She knows. The aunt knows and she hasn’t said anything,” Kisame declared, glaring out at the ocean now. He heaved a sigh, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “General’s not going to take this news well.”

Tenten’s eyes widened. “Lieutenant General Inuzuka said he would write to the Admiral about this,” she recalled.

“He won’t pass it to the General. That kid is right in his mother’s pocket. If the aunt isn’t telling her, then the cousin won’t either,” Kisame pointed out. Pressing his knuckles to his mouth, he continued staring out at the water. The sun was beginning to peer over the horizon now. The bottom of the black sky began to glow orange and red.

Tenten jolted a little when the mercenary’s eyes suddenly fell on her.

“This conversation didn’t happen,” he warned her.

Tenten smirked. “The General pays me too well for me to remember any of her secrets,” she assured him. But Kisame didn’t smile.

“I hope you forget this quick then.”

Tenten folded her arms again. “You really like her too, huh?” She glanced over him, noted the scars on his wrists.

“I’ve seen those before on slaves from the south. They had you in the fighting pits?” she observed.

Kisame rubbed his wrists. “Not for long,” he assured her. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to break through chains when you really want to bash someone’s head in.”

They stood there, staring out at the water for another moment.

++++

“I’m confused. So we’re not going home?” Kankuro wondered, hugging a pillow to his chest as he sat down. On the other side of the room, Gaara leaned against the lid of one of the trunks they had been filling with various clothes and souvenirs they had gathered during their time in the Viper’s Fang. All the gifts provided by Prince Baki had been placed in a separate pile. Kankuro kicked at some of the objects in that pile whenever he walked past.

“It all depends. But no. That’s not in the plan for now,” answered Sakura, leaning on her hand. She sorted through the letters she had spent the morning writing. Each one sealed with her ring. Temari had gone out to mail the first batch a little while ago. She would be back to send the others soon. Normally this was a task left for servants. But Sakura wanted to be sure that these letters made it to their destination quickly.

“What’s the atmosphere like in the palace, Meno?” asked Sakura.

Meno paused while folding one of Sakura’s robes for travel.

“Prince Baki is in meetings with his advisors much of the time. Consort Hoki interrogated the servants to identify which concubines aided Concubine Deba when she destroyed your property, General,” Meno reported.

“Any word on their punishment?”

“No, General. For now, Concubine Deba had the servants and guards confiscate their possessions to be appraised,” added Meno.

“For what?” Kankuro scoffed, stretching out onto his back and staring up at the gilded ceiling. “They destroyed something priceless. That’s like trying to fill up a bottomless pit with gold.”

“I suppose it’s more of a gesture. Shijima’s trying to show that she’s taking this situation seriously,” Sakura guessed. And then she smiled a little. “She really is a smart girl. It’s a shame that that’s gone unrecognized for so long in this place.”

Since Sakura was “furious”, it made no sense for Shijima to wander in and out of her quarters anymore. And while she wasn’t lonely with her cousins beside her, Sakura worried about Shijima. With the huge upset in the power structure of the harem, all Shijima would have to do is seize control. With Prince Baki in a foul mood, not many of the concubines would be brave enough to try any underhanded tactics for a little while. Still, Sakura knew how daunting it could be to do something like this. She hoped that the few allies Shijima had made in the harem were serving her well now.

As Shijima seized control of the harem from within, Sakura’s letters spread to all the cities with relationships to the Haruno family. Of course Princess Mei would be one of the first to receive word of the great offense Prince Baki and his wives had struck against her. Sakura was aware that Mei’s relationship with Baki was all about business. When forced to choose between Baki and the Haruno family, Mei was certain to choose the Haruno’s. It wasn’t just about distant family relations. It was about profit as well. Baki controlled some trade routes to the east. But the Haruno family’s access to gold and marble, as well as their vast network of connections to other cities in the Arids made them a better investment.

An added bonus was that Shijima had expressed discomfort at the relationship between Mei and Baki. Mei had mentioned once that she had a son by Baki, which ensured that he would never raise a hand against her city. After all, what kind of father would try to harm his own son? Mei was adamant that she had no other interest in the man. But if it bothered Shijima, then this was one way to solve the problem.

The other cities would face a similar dilemma. If the Haruno family was cutting ties with the Viper’s Fang, what would they do?

The Haruno family had spent generations marrying its children into the various cities surrounding them. And because blood must always be honored, there would be very few in their right mind who would choose to turn their back on a Haruno.

Baki was likely meeting with his advisors, who would push him to try to salvage the relationship with Prince Ebizo’s grand-niece before it was too late. But Baki’s pride would prove a stumbling block, just as she had predicted would happen.

It didn’t take long for messengers to begin pouring into the Viper’s Throat. They carried letters with seals of all different colors and patterns.

Prince Byakuren apologized for the conduct of Concubine Toge, one of Deba’s strongest supporters. Her father had been removed from his position as ambassador and was reflecting on his failure to raise a good daughter. Byakuren sent along jewels, as well as a written vow that he would always remain an ally of the Haruno family.

Prince Ibushi to the southwest disavowed Prince Baki for his lack of respect for traditions. He expressed mortification that he had ever shared a meal with such a man. He explained that the Viper’s Fang would no long be welcome to conduct trade through their port city.

Sakura recalled a battle a few years ago. It was towards the end of the war with Sound Country. With winter closing in, bringing with it the promise of frostbite, Shikamaru had proposed a plan that had sounded impossible at the time.

Rather than attack the main garrison of enemy troops, he had proposed ambushing the cities and roads that provided supplies. It had been a risky maneuver. But they had divided their remaining soldiers and disrupted Sound Country’s supply lines. That was how they had taken one of the biggest fortresses in the country and turned the tides of war in their favor.

Politics was like war in many ways. Maybe people did a little less stabbing, but the outcome was the same. Some people lived. Others died. And all it took was one mistake to break whatever careful balance there was.

There were, of course, some cities who remained silent. None of them would be foolish enough to criticize Sakura outright. But pressure from the surrounding cities would be enough to change their minds in time.

When word came from Karo a few days later, Sakura had to read the letter twice. Just to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.

Prince Ebizo was disappointed to learn that Prince Baki was not the wise man that rumors suggested. Ebizo urged Sakura to return to Karo and not to suffer discomfort for an instant longer than necessary. He also mentioned that with the souring of this relationship, naturally Sakura could not accept the troops Baki had promised.

“What? But you need those soldiers, don’t you, Lady Sakura?” Temari read over her shoulder.

Sakura sighed as she tried to piece together what Ebizo meant.

“I think… I think that Great-Uncle is suggesting that if I were to refuse those troops… it would be another blow to Prince Baki’s reputation. Because he would be unable to honor a promise he made to me,” Sakura guessed.

“That is a very serious issue here. It might ruin him completely,” Kankuro agreed, looking a little too happy about the prospect.

There was one letter that arrived that put a damper on things.

It was from the city of Solace. To the north. Where Mei’s stepbrother Ao ruled.

Prince Ao sent his regrets at the misfortune that had befallen her. But due to the poor harvest in the north this year, he was unable to cut ties with Prince Baki. He reminded Sakura of how Baki was technically a cousin to her, and suggested that she try to find forgiveness in her heart, which was the mark of a good ruler.

“He must be out of his mind. He’s being deliberately disrespectful,” Kankuro complained.

Sakura tossed the letter on the table with a noise of disgust.

“Well… that was unpleasant,” she remarked.

“Why did you stop, Lady Sakura? There’s more,” Gaara wondered, reaching for the later. He turned pale as he read the final paragraph that Sakura had omitted. Temari grasped his shoulder to steady him.

“What is it?” demanded Kankuro. He grabbed Gaara’s arm to bring the letter closer to him.

“…Father’s in Solace,” Kankuro realized as he read.

“I wonder what he’s said about Lady Sakura. And about us. No wonder Prince Ao seems less than fond of us,” Temari said, her face grim. She moved to put her arm around Gaara’s shoulders instead.

“I’ll inform Great-Uncle. Perhaps there’s something he can do to chastise that man,” muttered Sakura, already thinking of what to write. When she looked up, biting the tip of her thumb, she spotted Gaara’s panicked expression. Her face softened.

She reached across the table to grasp Gaara’s hand. Her eyes were still unfocused. But he squeezed back.

“He’s far from you. He can’t hurt you,” she assured him. Gaara nodded. But he didn’t look convinced.

Along with Ebizo’s letter came an envoy who bowed deeply.

“Since your needs are not being met here, His Highness has commanded me to find housing for you in the city until safe passage to Karo can be arranged,” he reported.

Sakura gazed past the man, to Meno dusting in the corner. When Sakura met her eyes, Meno turned to glance at the door. Then looked back to her. Sakura nodded. She watched Meno gather some dirty linens in a basket before she made her way out. Hopefully the rumor would spread through the palace quickly.

Returning her gaze to the envoy, Sakura smiled.

“I’ll trust your judgment. Please inform my Great-Uncle that I am thankful for his care and kindness,” answered Sakura. The envoy nodded, bowing once again.

That night, Azra and Esma cleared away the bowls and cups from their evening meal.

Sakura had stopped dining with Prince Baki for obvious reasons. She even refused food from the palace’s kitchen. Instead, she sent the twins out to buy food from the market each day. They always returned with grilled meats and fresh bread. They tried to find something new, although Sakura assured them that she wasn’t so picky. When they counted out the change, Sakura pushed it back into their hands.

“Would you like tea? Some more wine?” Azra asked.

“No. You haven’t had a chance to eat yet, have you? Go,” Sakura urged, sending the girls out with impatient pushing motions. The twins smiled as they lifted the trays and made their way out of the room.

Heaving a sigh, Sakura leaned her head back on the couch. Her cousins were out for a walk to help them digest the heavy meal. Their company was nice. It would have been difficult to be away from home for so long if not for them. But a moment of silence was also something she looked forward to every now and then.

She heard the door open.

“What is it?”

“The security of this place is really terrible,” Suigetsu complained, not for the first time, lowering his hood. He crossed the room to hand over a folded piece of paper. And then he helped himself to rest of her wine.

It was a message from Shijima. Thanks to that lax security, Suigetsu and Mangetsu were able to slip in and out of the harem to deliver notes like this one.

“Listen to this,” Sakura said as she read. Suigetsu turned to her, still gulping.

“Prince Baki has been in a foul temper these days. He summoned me, demanding to know how to ‘fix that woman’s mood’. I appeared, shed some tears, and insisted that I was trying my best. I’m beginning to think that you might be right. He is not a bad man, but not very clever.”

Suigetsu choked on the wine. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he coughed and laughed at the same time.

“She sounds like you,” he pointed out, thumping his fist against his chest.

Sakura skimmed over the rest of the message. She crumpled it into her palm to burn later.

“M’Lady,” Suigetsu called, suddenly serious. Her eyes fell on him.

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

The nightmares had crept up on her. It was so sudden that she had almost felt bewildered by their return. But once they settled back into her skull, it was like they had never left in the first place.

She knew that it was stress. The unfamiliar environment. And even as she dreamt, she was frustrated by her lack of control over her own mind.

Swords dripped blood onto rotting corpses. And everywhere she roamed, whether it was on charred battlefields or barren cities, she could hear sobbing. As constant as the chorus of crickets during the summer.  

She jerked awake in the darkness, her heart racing. And if there was someone else in the room, her mind automatically screamed ‘enemy’ without giving the rest of her a chance to catch up. Temari nearly went blind one night when she burst into the room, hearing strange noises. Luckily, the dagger missed and hit the door instead. From that point on, Sakura laid down a strict rule that no one was to disturb her at night.

Mangetsu broke the rule. A lot.

When Sakura woke shouting about someone bleeding out. Ordering someone to put pressure on the wound, because soon the number of corpses would outnumber the living who had to carry them. Sweat drenched her shirt and her hair. And she whipped around as she heard a sound at the window. Mangetsu had opened it from the outside. He pocketed his knife that he had used to wedge the lock open.

“Sleep. I’ll just sit here,” he said, settling in a chair in the corner of the room.

She was too exhausted for anger. She wiped her hand across her forehead.

“What?”

“I’ll just be here. Go back to sleep, M’Lady,” Mangetsu repeated. He idly flicked a bit of sand off his clothes. And when Sakura glared at him, Mangetsu pointed toward the door, where Suigetsu was probably standing watch.

“Has the same thing. It’s better when someone’s in the room with him. I figured I could do the same for you,” the mercenary explained.

Sakura considered throwing him out. But she had spent enough time with Mangetsu and Suigetsu. If she removed him, he would find another way back in. It wasn’t worth arguing with him about this.

It was easier than she thought to fall asleep with him watching her from the corner of the room. Maybe because she was used to him walking past the room at night on his patrols. She had never asked either of the brothers to watch her room so closely. And she had never asked them to confront the palace guards who spoke ill of her. Neither of them had mentioned the latter to her. It was only because Meno and the twins had whispered it to her during a rare moment when both of the mercenaries were out of the room. The rumors were likely exaggerated. But Sakura was confident that it was true that Suigetsu had taken down a guard twice his size. She was less confident that the guard had burst into tears.

She slept a little. It wasn’t perfect. She still jerked awake a few times. But the haunting wails that pierced her ears were a little easier to ignore when in her half-woken daze, she heard a soft sigh and “It’s not real. Try to sleep some more”.

In the morning, when she crawled out of bed, the chair in the corner was empty. And Mangetsu said nothing to her about where he had spent his night, as if it had never happened in the first place.

As Shijima had mentioned in her note, she was kneeling in front of the doors that led to the northern wing of the palace. When the doors opened up, Sakura hesitated. As if surprised to see Shijima sitting there. And then she resumed speaking to Temari as she walked right past the consort. Kankuro and Gaara stared at Shijima. They exchanged looks and then watched Sakura continue down the hall.

“Sorry,” Gaara whispered before they hurried to catch up to Sakura.

“I know what she’s doing. Suddenly extending an olive branch will only undermine her at this point,” Sakura assured Temari once they were out of the palace. She adjusted the shawl that covered her hair.

They didn’t actually have much business in the city. However, it was important that Prince Baki think that they did. They checked the post station to see if any messengers had arrived with news from out west. They relaxed at the bathhouse, ate street foot standing in the shade of a tall building, and then visited a few vendors to browse the shiny wares they had on sale.

By the time they returned to the Viper’s Fang, night had fallen. And Shijima was still kneeling in front of those double doors.

Sakura ignored her again as she swept past.

“Have one of the girls pour some of that wine we purchased. The day has been hot and I’m quite thirsty,” Sakura remarked.

Temari glanced at Shijima. But her steps didn’t falter as she continued after Sakura.

“Of course, Lady Sakura,” Temari replied.

In the morning, Suigetsu tapped on the door to Sakura’s room. Just enough to wake her that she didn’t draw a weapon on him when he stepped inside.

“You know that she’s still out there,” he said, without greeting. He glanced at the empty chair in the corner. Mangetsu had slipped out a little while ago. Suigetsu seemed to know of the arrangement. But like his brother, he made no comment about it.

“Who?” asked Sakura, raking her hands through her tangled hair.

“Shij- The Consort. Whatever.”

Sakura’s hands froze.

“You mean that she’s returned this morning?”

“No. She went somewhere for a few minutes during the night. But then she came right back. Probably went to the…” Suigetsu trailed off and Sakura caught his meaning. Her hands dropped into her lap.

“So she’s been there a full day? Without eating?”

Suigetsu rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “I mean, I haven’t seen anything. Maybe she snuck in a meal during those few minutes? I wouldn’t put it past you nobles. You’re all kind of crazy,” he answered.

Sakura closed her eyes, thinking. She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. She reached her arm for something, pointing. Suigetsu followed the line of her arm until he spotted her robe draped over the back of her chair. A year ago, he would have balked at the thought of being ordered around like this.

Snickering a little at himself, Suigetsu plucked the robe off the chair and draped it over Sakura’s shoulders. She pulled her arms through without thanks. She opened her eyes. They were bloodshot and a little puffy. When Suigetsu pointed to them, Sakura swatted his finger away. She pressed the backs of her hands to her eyelids. Suigetsu’s smile faded as he examined her face.

“What’s the reason why you don’t want to sleep?” he suddenly wondered.

She lowered her hands a little. “What do you mean?”

“Are you scared of your dreams? You know they can’t hurt you,” Suigetsu told her. While he was smiling, it wasn’t a mocking expression. Sakura held his gaze for an extra moment, lowering her hands all the way now.

“No. I’m scared of who I am inside them,” she answered.

Suigetsu was quiet. He nodded.

“Better scared than dead,” he pointed out before he stepped out of the room.

Shijima raised her head when the double doors rumbled open. Sakura took a step out, arms folded across her chest. Her hair was loose. She was still in her nightgown with just a robe thrown on top.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Sakura without greeting.

Shijima lowered her head again.

Shijima had informed her in a short message that she would be putting on some sort of scene. Sakura hadn’t realized that she would push her body so far.

“Please don’t leave, General. I realize that you are rightfully upset. But please reconsider,” Shijima requested, staring at the floor.

“And you think this will change my mind somehow? Kneeling here?”

There were bound to be guards or servants hiding somewhere nearby. Sakura kept her tone cold, her gaze sharp.

“It seems you intend to starve yourself on my doorstep. You must not realize that someone like me is quite familiar with death. Do as you please,” Sakura stated before she slipped back inside. The doors slamming shut behind her.

Sakura walked past Shijima again on her way out into the city. When she returned in the evening, Shijima still knelt there, her face haggard. Sakura didn’t speak to her. Safely inside her room, Sakura turned to Gaara. She put her hands on his shoulders.

“You’ve always been friendly with her, so it will be less suspicious. Sneak outside later and bring the poor girl something to eat. And some water,” Sakura instructed. Gaara nodded. He cast a look of concern toward the door.

But when Gaara returned, he shook his head.

“She refused.”

Sakura sat down. She clenched her jaw. Lifting her fist to her mouth, she pressed her knuckles to her lips.

“She’ll hurt herself,” Temari worried too.

“She must have a plan. She’s not that stupid is she?” Kankuro leaned his elbow on the back of the couch as he spoke.

“She must. But…” Sakura trailed off. She looked up when Gaara crossed the room. He sat at her feet, grasping her free hand.

“We should trust her. She must know what she’s doing,” Gaara urged. She looked down at his face. When had he grown up so much? It took a moment. But a faint smile appeared on her face. She pulled her hand free of his to pat his cheek.

“Yes. I suppose so,” she agreed.

That night, Sakura slept even more fitfully than usual. She was startled awake by someone yelling her name too close to her. Her eyes flew open to find Mangetsu’s face above her. She moved to push him away, but her arm jerked to a stop. It took her a moment to take in the situation.

Mangetsu’s hands gripped her wrists, holding them above her head. And before she could rebuke him, she felt the shape and weight of a knife in her hand. In both of them, actually. She slowly relaxed her fingers and wrists. Let the blades fall harmlessly onto the bed. Mangetsu stared her right in the eyes. Whatever he read there seemed like enough. He let out a sigh of relief as he released her. Sakura flexed her hands, rubbing her reddened wrists. They would probably bruise.

“Sorry. You woke swinging knives and I had to,” he muttered, taking a few steps back.

Sakura nodded. She tried to calm her shallow breaths as she sat up. She turned her head away from him, fist pressed to her forehead. It was mortifying enough for someone to witness this. Somehow his lack of judgment made it all the more embarrassing.

The door opened.

“You don’t look like you’re going back to sleep this time.”

“So you’re both just walking in and out as you wish now,” Sakura growled as she recognized Suigetsu’s voice.

“Come on, M’Lady. Let me show you something nice,” Suigetsu said, ignoring her glare. He picked up her falchion propped up in the corner by the bed.

“What nonsense are you saying in the middle of the night?” she sighed. “Put my sword back.”

Suigetsu’s tone changed. He was serious now. “M’Lady.” He waited until she was looking at him properly. “I don’t know a lot of things. But this… I know this.”

So Sakura followed Suigetsu outside, into the courtyard. Mangetsu trailed after them, an odd smile on his lips, as if he were in on some kind of joke.

He tossed Sakura her falchion. She kept it in the scabbard, regarding Suigetsu with suspicion. Suigetsu wielded his own weapon. And then he reached out toward his brother. Mangetsu unsheathed his sword and handed it over to Suigetsu with a pointed look.

Looking insulted, Suigetsu grumbled, “I’ll be careful. I’ve only dropped it once…. twice.”

And then he turned to Sakura with a grin.

“I’ve seen you fight before. With all those fancy twirls. It’s stupid.”

Suigetsu was brutal. He lunged and slashed in the moments when she felt most vulnerable. And just when she felt like she might be able to catch her breath, he was attacking again. There was no question that Suigetsu’s fighting style was unrefined and nonsensical at times. But it was something that was born out of necessity, not flair. So what it lacked in showmanship it more than made up in efficiency. She managed to get in some good maneuvers here in there, but by the end of the round, she felt somewhat like a fox being chased down by a pack of particularly tenacious hounds.

“Sometimes…”  Suigetsu suddenly said, “It feels nice to just do something… and not to think. It helps.” He held his hand out to her.

Sakura searched his face. And then she almost smiled as she grasped his hand, letting him pull her up.

“I know what you mean,” she replied.

She washed up and fell back into bed for the little time left until dawn. She closed her eyes, still a little afraid to sleep. But exhaustion made it difficult for her to fight sleep for long. And mercifully, when she succumbed, it was to a dark, dreamless sleep. Kind and quiet like the bottom of the ocean.

A few hours later, Sakura was out of her bed. She opened up the doors to the north wing of the palace. Shijima still knelt there. Her movements were sluggish as she lifted her head. Sakura took a few steps forward. Stopped in front of her. And then she knelt, leaning in close.

“You’re not waiting for me, are you?” Sakura whispered.

Shijima glanced around. And then she offered Sakura a tiny, secretive smile.

Sakura lifted her head a little. She pulled a wineskin out of her cloak and tossed it in front of Shijima.

“Drink. Or I really will leave today,” Sakura ordered.

Shijima opened the cap and took a sip of the water. And then she another. Soon, she was gulping down every last drop in the container. When she looked up to Sakura, wiping her chin on the back of her hand, Sakura was holding out an orange.

“You must realize that this is ridiculous, Consort Hoki,” Sakura chastised as she watched Shijima peel the orange. But her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t do it. Clucking her tongue, Sakura reached out to peel the fruit for her. She handed the segments to Shijima and watched her eat.

“What will happen if you leave this way? Doesn’t that doom this city?” Shijima worried, chewing as she spoke.

Cheek in her hand, Sakura tilted her head as she thought.

“Doom is a strong word.”

Shijima looked relieved.

“But not wholly inaccurate.”

Shijima looked even more concerned than before.

“His contacts to the east will continue to deal with him. Largely because of you, actually. You do know that marrying you has made that man richer than he could have ever hoped?” Sakura pointed out. And though she had mentioned this to Shijima before, perhaps the wording struck a chord within her. Because Shijima’s eyes widened.

“His standing out here will certainly change, however. I’ve persuaded my Great-Uncle not to declare war, which is a good thing. Great-Uncle hates conflict, but his heir doesn’t,” Sakura went on. Her eyes darted to the presence she had noticed hiding further down the corridor. The servant girl ducked behind the column, likely praying that Sakura hadn’t spotted her.

“I’ll tell you something good because I personally like you, Consort Hoki. The Arids have been peaceful for so long for two reasons,” Sakura said, holding two fingers up. “The first is that the major cities have intermarried so much that there are few of us who cannot call each other ‘cousin’. And second is that most of the cities here are of similar standing. Or they are allied with someone who can protect them. It’s usually the weakest in a pack that gets swallowed by predators, after all.”

Sakura could see the words settling into Shijima’s head. The girl turned pale.

“So if The Viper’s Throat falls-” Shijima whispered.

“Predators will fall on it like vultures on carrion,” Sakura finished the thought for her.

This wasn’t something she had gone over with Shijima beforehand. She hadn’t wanted this reaction to feel rehearsed in any way. And perhaps it was a little cruel. Sakura wouldn’t abandon Shijima in the middle of such a risky affair, but the girl had no way of knowing that. They had only known each other for a short time.

With the consequences hanging over her head, Shijima would be pushed to be think a little harder and to speak with more conviction. And from the way that the servant girl went sprinting down the hall, perhaps Baki would realize just how badly things could go if he continued to cling to his pride.

“You can kneel here for as long as you wish, Consort. But I am returning to my Great-Uncle’s city in a week’s time. As soon as all my affairs are put into order. And you can continue to kneel here once I’m gone for all I care,” Sakura concluded, rising to her full height. As the double doors closed, Sakura turned around to look at Shijima. She offered her a glimpse of a smile before the doors separated them again. She hoped that the girl would be smart enough to put together a good strategy. Sakura had set her up with some strong pieces, but there was only so much she could do from behind for her.

Later that morning, Azra and Esma whispered to Sakura that there was some sort of commotion. They guided her by the hand to a secret passage hidden behind a large urn. She had always felt suspicious of the placement of the ostentatious decoration. But she was thankful for it now when the twins guided her into the narrow space. It led them an oddly-shaped space. When Azra pointed to a set of tiny holes, Sakura was confused. Esma mimed cupping her hands around one ear. So Sakura leaned in closer, pressing her ear against the holes.

“I’ve had enough of this spectacle. Get up this instant, Consort Hoki.”

It was Prince Baki’s voice.

When Sakura looked to the twins, Azra nodded furiously. Sakura pointed at the other holes on the wall. She motioned for the girls to join her. Eyes glittering, they squished in with her to listen in on the conversation.

“I will kneel here for as long as it takes for the General to quell her anger, My Lord,” Shijima replied. Sakura smiled at how confident Shijima sounded.

“Forget that woman. She’ll be leaving soon. You should be thinking of how this affects my reputation,” Baki grumbled.

Sakura scoffed. So did Esma.

“I am thinking of your reputation, My Lord. If relations with the Haruno family truly remain this way, it will affect every part of your reputation. Surely you realize this.”

“Do not nag me, Consort Hoki. Don’t think as if you know everything just because you’ve spent some time with that woman.”

Sakura shook her head. She had no idea what Shijima saw in that bull-headed man. She had asked Shijima on multiple occasions whether this was the path she really wanted to choose. It would be a simple affair to have them divorce and to bring Shijima with her to Plumeria. They had no children, so the divorce could be on the basis that they had failed to produce a legitimate heir. One of Baki’s many concubines could be promoted to Consort instead. She would do well in the tropical climate. And there were so many nice young men she could introduce her to. Ones that would surely be head over heels for her. Unlike a certain stubborn fool.

“Maybe I should be nagging you. You haven’t handled things very well with my silence.”

That snapped Sakura right back to attention. Azra grabbed Esma’s hand, eyes wide.

“What was that?”

“You’ve never seen me as your consort. You allow your concubines to harass me. You exclude me from social events when I should be by your side. And all this time, I’ve held my tongue because I trusted that my lord husband would know what he was doing.”

Azra’s mouth fell open.

Sakura grimaced to herself. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the expression on Baki’s face. That was a bold criticism to unleash on anyone.

“I’m no longer a child. And you’re not the man I thought you were. I suppose it’s time for the both of us to face reality.”

Esma slapped her hands over Azra’s mouth. Sakura covered her own mouth with her hand. They waited for something else. But it was silent.

Just as Sakura began to worry that she might have to intervene, she heard noises again.

“Come with me,” Baki growled. And then footsteps began retreating across the stone. Hurried and sharp.

The following morning, Shijima arrived at the northern wing of the Viper’s Fang. Meno opened the door, bowed, and then disappeared to go inform Sakura of the visitor.

Sakura leaned against the inside of the door, staring out at Shijima. Because Shijima was rosy-faced and practically glowing with satisfaction. Sakura appraised her, sighed.

“What is it?” she demanded, still aware of the eyes all around the palace.

“I have a proposition from my lord husband,” Shijima announced.

Sakura folded her arms across her chest. “And where is this… lord husband of yours during such an important discussion?” she wondered.

Shijima gave an impish smile. “Still asleep. My lord is quite tired from… a long night,” she admitted, lowering her voice. Sakura had to fight the urge to smile right back. She turned on her heel instead.

“Come inside quickly. Don’t waste my time,” she retorted. The doors closed behind Shijima as she followed after her.

But as soon as the doors were gone, and Mangetsu confirmed that no one else was around, Sakura threw her arms around Shijima.

“Oh, well done, love. You’ve worked so hard,” Sakura said, her voice warm now.

And although Shijima had been smiling, the instant she heard those words, she burst into tears. Clinging on to the back of Sakura’s dress, she sobbed about how frightened she had been. How difficult it was to watch everyone who had once been so warm to her to act so cold now. Even if it was all just a show. Azra and Esma sniffled too as they set an extra place for Shijima at the breakfast table.

Teary-eyed and runny-nosed, Shijima took a sip of the tea they offered to her. She had cried even harder when Temari had rushed out in her nightgown to hug her too, starting the hysterics anew.

“Now. Eat something. You must be starving,” Sakura urged. Before she could move her hands, Gaara was already piling fruits and bread onto her plate. Kankuro refilled her teacup and added a bit of sugar.

“I… ate last night… with His Majesty,” she confessed, her eyes falling to the table.

“Is that all you did? Eat?” Kankuro probed.

Shijima erupted scarlet. Temari reached over to slap her brother on the arm while Sakura chuckled.

“So this is what you meant when you told me you learned things before you came here,” Sakura teased. Hands on her cheeks, Shijima peeked up at her. When she nodded, Kankuro burst out laughing. He fell against Gaara’s shoulder. Gaara had his face turned away to be polite, but from the way his shoulder’s shook, it was easy to see that he was laughing too.

“Mother told me many stories. I’d never… but I knew… so…”

As Shijima grew an even brighter shade of red, Kankuro took a sip of tea.

“Father had 8 concubines, so Mother had to be good at maintaining a household.”

Kankuro spat his tea out. And Sakura couldn’t even chastise him for his poor table manners because she was too busy coughing and choking on her tea too.

As it turned out, one of the skills Shijima’s mother had instilled in her was the art of good pillow talk. Whatever had transpired during the night had left Prince Baki quite open to suggestions. Shijima wormed her way into his thoughts, suggesting this and gently steering him away from that. While Shijima had struggled with dealing with other women, apparently she had little trouble with the opposite sex.

“So I suggested that all you really wanted was a fair punishment for Concubine Deba. And that if you were appeased, all the relations and diplomacy would go back to normal,” Shijima explained.

“What is ‘fair’ in your eyes then?” asked Sakura.

“Well… I knew Prince Baki wouldn’t want to execute Concubine Deba and her son. After all, that’s his son too. So I suggested stripping the son of his title and sending Concubine Deba away instead.”

Sakura nodded, examining the healing cuts on the back of her hand. “Why not send her to work for my Great-Uncle? Labor for her debts?”

“What about the other concubines? The ones that helped Deba?” prompted Temari.

“The same treatment. Prince Baki was hesitant at first. But then I assured him that our son would be the best successor,” Shijima said, placing her hand on her stomach.

“There’s no way of knowing that you are already…” Kankuro trailed off, miming a rounded stomach with his hands.

“No. But… we have time. It will happen eventually. The women of my family are very fertile,” Shijima answered with confidence. “I also suggested that since I’d appraised the value of the goods I confiscated from the harem, that we could send them to the Haruno family as a gesture of apology and goodwill. It would cost Prince Baki no additional money and it would help smooth things over for now. Just like you said, General.”

Sakura nodded, her coughing finally under control.  

Gaara handed over her tea to help clear her throat. Sakura took a sip before she spoke again.

“You do realize that by not killing his sons you’re leaving a threat for the future,” Sakura warned, not for the first time.

Shijima nodded. “I don’t want to do it. It doesn’t feel right. Even if it means they’ll come back to challenge me. I’ll just have to work a little harder.”

Sakura looked down at her tea. She set it to the side. “I don’t know if it’s the right choice, but you’ve made it. And I respect that,” she admitted.

They went over some more details together. Sakura would send out a letter to Karo in a few more days outlining Shijima’s compromise. Another one would reach Hilal as well. From there, the rumors would spread. And Sakura would make every effort to ensure that Consort Hoki’s name was attached to the story.

Prince Baki was not a complicated man. Whatever Shijima’s mother had taught her was obviously effective against him. As the days went by, he was rarely seen without Shijima at his side. And when the concubines saw how much the prince favored the consort now, there was a mad scramble to try to get into her good graces. The servants as well were quick to change their allegiances.

With some persuasion on Shijima’s part, Prince Baki even apologized for the delay in handling such a terrible insult against her. It was interesting how much his gaze had changed in a matter of days. No longer were his stares directed at her. In fact, it seemed he was having trouble looking anywhere but at Shijima, which Sakura welcomed. And hanging on Baki’s arm, Shijima looked so happy that Sakura couldn’t find it in her to criticize the man too much.

“It’s quite alright. It’s all thanks to Consort Hoki that things were resolved so quickly,” Sakura commended instead.

And Baki looked over at Shijima to smile.

“Yes. She’s wise, isn’t she?” he answered.

But as Sakura prepared to move on to their next stop, the eastern kingdoms to the east of the Viper’s Throat, Sakura received a letter from Ebizo.

My dear,

I know it was your intention to visit the Qing Kingdom, but I must ask you to journey north instead.

Rasa’s influence over Prince Ao has become concerning for all of us. He has refused summons to return back to Karo. I would send troops there myself, but Prince Ao may see that as an act of aggression. Instead, I must request that you visit the city for yourself and handle Rasa as you see fit. He ceased to serve a purpose for us when you had him removed for your employ. You have dealt with the man for much longer than I have, so I will trust whatever judgment you pass.

Sakura burned the letter as quickly as she could.

When she read between the lines, she could see what her great-uncle was asking. If she found it necessary, she could eliminate Rasa completely. And that wasn’t something she wanted Temari and her siblings to have to confront.

Instead, she put on a smile as she informed her cousins that there was to be a change of plans. Kankuro was a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t get a chance to see the markets in the east. There were rumors of grand festivals that he had been looking forward to taking part in. And when Sakura revealed that they would be moving north instead, Gaara said nothing. His expression was tight though. Temari grabbed his hand. She motioned for Kankuro, who moved to grasp Gaara’s other hand.

“You can return to Karo first if you’d prefer. It should be a quick trip,” Sakura offered.

Heads close together, the siblings exchanged a few quiet words. Temari frowned as Gaara shook his head.

“We will be with you, Lady Sakura,” Gaara promised.

Sakura sent word ahead of her. Although she hadn’t actually been invited, Ao would have no choice but to open his arms to her if he didn’t want to suffer some sort of criticism from neighboring cities.

As they prepared the luggage and the gifts for their reluctant hosts, Baki invited Sakura to visit the barracks in the city with him. Kankuro and Temari were busy overseeing preparations, but Gaara was free to accompany her. He held her hand as they walked through the busy city. Mangetsu trailed a little ways behind them.

When they arrived at the barracks, they appeared to be running through drills. Sakura recognized the setup. Men lined up in a formation. A single man in front barking orders.

As Baki stepped onto the field, they stopped. The man in front was tall with shaggy white hair. He stood at attention, saluting as Baki approached him. He yelled an order. All the soldiers saluted in unison.

Smiling, Baki extended an arm to gesture towards the men.

“Your regiment, as promised, General,” he announced.

Sakura released Gaara’s hand. She crossed her arms behind her back as she turned her gaze to the men. “How many in total?”

“5000, as promised. And this is Commander Darui. My best,” Baki replied.

Sakura arched an eyebrow. “You’re giving away your best? Let’s not tell each other lies, Prince Baki,” Sakura retorted.

Baki’s smile faded a little. But he tried to reclaim the expression, laughing.

“Alright, you’ve caught me there. But Commander Darui is certainly one of the best. He will not fail you. And he speaks the language of the west, so you should have no discomfort communicating with him.”

Sakura looked Darui over. He kept his gaze on her feet.

“Do you have a problem serving under a woman?” she queried.

“No, Ma’am,” came his prompt reply.

“We’re going far from here. You will not return to these lands. Are you still willing?” she pressed.

He saluted. “I will follow you wherever, General. It is an honor.”

Sakura scrutinized his face. And then she laughed a little. “What an insincere reply. Well, you have some time to change your mind if necessary.”

Then she turned to face the soldiers still in formation.

“My travels will take me far from this land. If any of you are unwilling to follow me, be it family or an aversion to reporting to a woman, then I will not force you on this journey. We depart in a week. If you choose not to follow me, there will be no consequences. Take some time to make your decision,” she announced before clapping her hands once.

Without waiting for any input from the two men, Sakura began walking away from the barracks. Gaara hurried after her. But Mangetsu was already at her side, leaning in towards her to whisper.

“You shouldn’t have been so easy-going, M’Lady. You’ll lose some of them.”

Sakura leveled him with a look. As if she couldn’t believe his line of thinking.

“Good,” she replied, “I need troops to become my hands and feet, not a burden. I would rather leave any whining children behind.”

Mangetsu snickered, shaking his head a little.

“Then why are you bringing Suigetsu?” Gaara asked, grabbing onto Sakura’s sleeve as he finally caught up.

Mangetsu laughed even louder. And Sakura smiled too as they made their way onto the bustling city streets.

++++

<Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25>

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

How to hold a sword - Geralt of Rivia x Reader - Part 1 of 2

Summary: You are bored with your life and want more. Luckily, Geralt of Rivia visits the town one day.

Requested by: @just-antiyou “could i request a geralt x reader where the reader is slightly wealthy but hates it and wants to be tougher than she looks so she hites geralt to teacher her and he slowly falls for her but she doesnt comprehend why HER? maybe this made no sense im so sorry i love ur writing pls an thank u stay safe” --> Hope you like it! I decided to make two parts out of the story! <3

Words: 2030 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader Warnings: none

„Stop wasting my time. “

 „Come on! I can pay you!”

 “Sure you can.”

 “Yes! Don’t you believe me?”

 “Stop bothering me and go home.”

 “I have coin! Here!”

 Finally, the Witcher turned around when he heard the rattling of the coins in your small bag as you held it up. He quickly grabbed your hand, forcing it down. “Are you mad or do you enjoy the idea of being robbed,” he scolded you.

He was right. You were standing in the middle of a busy street, merchants and farmers passing you by as they made their way home from the market. The sun was already beginning to set and the first drunks stumbled out of the tavern to your right. Two working girls shrieked when a man fell against them, landing face down on one of the their bosoms, and angrily pushed him away.

 You let the small bag slip back into the pocket of your coat. “I have coin!”, you repeated yourself.

 “Where’d you get that?”, he demanded to know. “Did you steal it?”

 You snorted. Asshole. “My family owns half the town. Did you not recognize this?!” You pointed at your necklace with the family emblem brightly visible.

 His eyes only grazed shortly over it. “I’m not from here.”

 “Right, because you’re Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher, a famous one – so give me one reason why you would decline my offer?”

 “Teaching spoilt girls how to hold a sword is not in my job description.”

 “First of all,” this time you pointed your finger at him. “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, so start treating me like one! And secondly, as far as I’m concerned, there is no monster to kill for you at the moment.”

 “There’s always monsters to kill.”

 “Witcher!” A frustrated sigh escaped your mouth. What was his problem?

 Geralt looked at you intensely, his eyes wandering from your face to your pocket, where the coins were stowed, back to your face. He pondered about what the offer would truly mean – letting another person come too close to him rarely resulted in anything good. People around him tend to end up hurt or heartbroken or dead. The last person to experience this had been Jaskier. Years of traveling together and it ended in Geralt chasing him away, blaming him for things that weren’t his fault. This happened a few years back and since then, the two of them had rekindled their friendship, but still. His point remained unchanged.

 However, this could be different. You didn’t seek him out to become friends. It was nothing more than a job. Not to mention that your comment about him not having anything better to do at the moment was true. He could really use the coin. Before Geralt was able to rethink this, he wiped his eyes in a tiring and annoyed matter. “Fine.”

 Your face lit up instantly and a big smile appeared on it. “Yes? Oh thank you!”

 “Ten days.”

 “That’s a good start!”, you exclaimed happily.

 “It’s not a start, it’s all I’m offering,” he corrected you. Were you always this cheerful or just when you got your way? “What do I get out of it?”

 “Three coins for each day.”

 The Witcher raised an eyebrow. There was far more in that bag of yours and you both knew it. “Eight.”

 “Four.”

 “Seven.”

 “Witcher!”

 “Six then.”

 “Five.”

“Deal,” he nodded.

 Your smile grew even wider. “Thank you! This is fantastic!”

 The only acknowledgment you got for that statement was a low grunt. He wasn’t so sure about it being a fantastic idea. “Meet me here tomorrow when the sun rises. Do you own a sword?”

 He let out a sigh when you shook your head. “Of course you don’t. Doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, when the sun rises! Understood?”

 “Understood!”

 ***

 You arrived early the next morning. The excitement for the days to come was too overwhelming so after hours of tossing and turning and occasionally falling into a half slumber, you decided to cut the night short.

 You nervously looked around you. Despite the late (or rather early) hour, the street was buzzing with people. Mostly drunks but no less intimidating. It was the second time you visit this part of the town as your mother would forbid you to come here. “It’s a dangerous place,” she always said, “nothing to find there except for criminals and whores.” Observing the people around you, she might had a point.

 Growing up in one of the richest families of the town was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Nothing seemed to be missing from your life – dresses and jewelry, parties and royal receptions – everything was there in arm’s reach. You never had to work a day in your life and never went to bed on an empty stomach. Still, you were unhappy. You were born into this world with no purpose. All you had to do was look pretty, agree to a beneficial marriage and produce heirs. Your father didn’t allow you to be something else, something more. You never asked for much, knowing he’d deny your requests, except for learning how to fight and defend yourself. It was a simple desire but you hoped it would give you something. What, you weren’t sure. A purpose maybe? Indubitably, he refused you.

 A sense of guilt and shame rushed through you. It happened every time as you were aware that the problems were nothing more than luxurary at best. After all, what gave you, a privileged girl with no troubles, the right to complain when there were people starving and dying?

 “Well, ‘ello there, aren’t you a pretty one.”

 You shrieked at the slurring words coming from your left. A man, smelling of beer and piss, reeled towards you. A disgusted look on your face, you took a step back.

 “What’s that face, pretty one? Don’t cha think I’m pretty too?”

 “Fuck off!”

 A second voice made you turn around in surprise. Geralt of Rivia was standing in the doorway of the tavern, glaring at the drunk. Even in his current state of mind, the man sensed that Geralt wasn’t someone he wanted to bother, so he spit out undefinable curses and stumbled away.

 “Thank you,” you said to the Witcher. He looked different this morning. Rested and bathed, you figured and realized his attractiveness for the first time since you met him. Last night you were more focused on convincing him to train you. Tall, broad, with his glooming golden eyes and white hair that fell loosely on his shoulders – only a blind person could deny his good looks.

 Geralt eyed you up and down. “Now why would you wear that?”

 You furrowed your brows in confusion and looked down at your blue dress and fine cloak that hugged your figure. “What?”

 “You want to learn how to fight, am I wrong?”

 “No, you’re not.”

 “And you’re gonna do that in a dress?”

 “I’ve seen women fight in dresses.”

 “But not in fucking ball gowns.”

 “This is not a ball gown!” You protested.

 He rolled his eyes and started walking. “Whatever, come on. We have a long day ahead.”

 You followed, struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t seem to care all that much. “Why do you sleep here?” You pointed back to the run-down pension.

 “What do you mean?”

 “With the money I’m paying, you can afford better … places.”

 “I like it here.”

 “You like sleeping around these creatures?”

 Geralt didn’t answer instead he shot you a glance that made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You knew exactly what he thought in this moment – he probably regretted taking the job and dreaded the fact that he was stuck with a spoilt girl like you for the next days. You didn’t blame him.

 You couldn’t have known on this day but you were wrong. Geralt didn’t have any regrets – not yet however. He saw you as spoilt, yes. He also recognized your will to change – or else you wouldn’t have come to him in the first place.

 ***

 One hour later and Geralt finally stopped in his tracks. You were more than thankful as your feet already started to hurt. The two of you had left the town far behind and had now reached a small clearing in the woods.

 With a sigh you sat down and leaned against a tree. Geralt kept his gaze on the ground and walked around the clearing, looking for something.

 You watched him. There was certainly something about that Witcher with his tall figure, white-hair and brooding looks. Only a blind woman would deny that. For a brief moment, you wondered if he had a companion or a consort, so to speak. What kind of woman did he desire? You had heard rumors about a mage he had taken as his lover. So probably powerful woman, fighters, he didn’t need to worry about protecting.

 “Here,” a stick landing in front of you catapulted you back into reality.

 You looked at the stick and back at Geralt. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

 “Fight,” only then you noticed a second branch, resting in his hand.

 “With a stick?”

 “Yes.”

 You grabbed it and got up in the same movement. “I’m not a child, I won’t play with sticks,” putting some force behind your words, you looked at him intensely.

 His face didn’t falter. “What do you suggest instead?”

 “A sword. I want to learn how to fight with a sword.”

 “You’re not ready.”

 “We only have two weeks though, we need to speed up this whole process,” you argued.

 “You’re not ready.” He repeated sternly.

 You kept staring at him, realizing that you wouldn’t win this argument. A sigh left your lips. “Fine.”

 A small smile appeared on his face. “Great. Let’s get started.”

 *** The first training was an absolute disaster. You were convinced that you spent the most time on the ground, face-down in the mud – the rest of the time you got your ass kicked. The exhaustion you felt when you were back in the tavern with torn clothes and leaves in your hair came close to nothing you ever experienced in your life.

 Geralt sat next to you, happily eating his piece of chicken, looking like he had just returned home from a lazy and relaxed day out of town.

 “You should eat something,” he said in between bites.

 You looked down at your plate where the food remained untouched. “I’m not hungry.”

 “Yes, you are.”

 As if your stomach wanted to agree, a low growl was heard.

 Geralt smirked but didn’t comment.

 “Fine,” you admitted. “I’m starving.”

 “But?”

 “Everything hurts.” It was true, you felt too exhausted to take one bite out of the meat.

 He shrugged. “Of course it does. You’ll get better though.”

 “I don’t think so,” you sighed. “Did you see me today?!”

 “I’ll tell you what,” Geralt said with a chuckle. “I promise that you’ll be able to fight and win against Jaskier by the end of this.”

 “Is he a good fighter?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

 “He’s not too bad.”

 “What if I lose against him?”

 “You’ll get your coin back.”

 “Deal.” You nodded in contently. Then you added after a brief moment: “Wait, who’s Jaskier?”

 “He’s traveling with me,” Geralt simply answered and took a sip from his beer mug. “You’ll meet him tomorrow. He knows people from this town.”

 Jaskier. You were curious about the kind of person a Witcher spent his time with when he wasn’t away, hunting beasts. Was he as calm and collected as Geralt? Always so serious?

 Another growl came from your stomach and you looked back at the plate. Well, maybe not eating at all would be a worse decision. After all, there were nine more days filled with exhaustion ahead of you. Slowly, you reached down to grab one of the chicken legs and bit into it.

 Geralt watched you carefully and a very small part of him began to like the idea of having to spend more dinners with you in the next days. Of course, he’d never admit it. Not even to himself.

***

My Masterlist

My Tag List: @just-antiyou​ , @sarah-midnight​ , @aspiring-ginger​ , @seb-owns-these-tatas​

Message me if you want to be added to my tag list <3

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- I have no idea where this is going, but its definitely going. Also, just for some supplemental texture--> John’s townhouse   Y/n’s apartment)

The Arrangement 

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, some angst, John being kind of an asshole.

Sweet Surrender

John leaned back in the dark leather chair positioned behind his mahogany desk, his elbows propped on the upholstered arm rests and his fingers touching at the tips. Besides work, there was a lot of his mind, most of it having to do with Y/n. They weren't his usual thoughts of her though, these were troubling. Something had changed with her and lately, he had been starting to sense that she was unhappy. Y/n hadn’t out-rightly said so, but it was in the little things; she’d stopped offering him details on the life she lived outside of their shared moments and all in all, she wasn’t her typical light, carefree self. 

In the beginning, it was Y/n’s bubbly personality that had attracted him, enthralling him. Before, he’d usually find his women via other means, there had only been a few others and they were all nice enough, good at following orders and fun in bed. But nonetheless, Y/n was certainly his favorite, upon meeting her, John could easily tell that she was a natural submissive and wasn’t thoughtless like those gone by. She didn’t take her role in his life lightly either, and John cared for her in a way that he hadn’t for anyone one else. Which was why it stung to think that he wasn’t doing right by her, their arrangement was supposed to bring them both pleasure, but if he wasn’t doing that for her, then half the purpose was lost. He wondered what had caused her discontent, up until then, he figured that he had been good to Y/n, he took care of her needs; sexual, financial and otherwise, he tried to listen when she needed an ear and always respected her boundaries. 

He’d have to bring it up soon, John wasn’t afraid of addressing it, besides, it was nearing the eleventh month of their first contract, they’d have to discuss whether or not they wanted to renew it or not. Usually, John never renewed them, by the end of the year, he'd often find himself yearning for a fresh face, letting his latest attraction go like dust on wind, but that year it was different and he couldn’t see himself growing tired of Y/n in the foreseeable future. John knew what he wanted, the final decision would have to be Y/n’s. 

“Mr. Wick?” his secretary poked her little brunette head into his office, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts. With a hum and annoyance expertly kept at bay, he glanced up, meeting a pair of clear green eyes. Abigail was just a few years older than Y/n and had been his secretary for going on three years. He could never tell what her angle was though, with all the tight shirts and short skirts, sure she was pretty enough, but it was the kind of beauty John could see himself getting bored of quickly. She didn’t really have much of a defining personality either, very two dimensional and he suspected that she didn’t have much more depth than she offered at face value. She was nothing like Y/n who was intelligent and exciting. “Your one o’clock is here,” even after she delivered her message, Abigail stayed there, still holding the door open.

With a quiet sigh, John sat up straighter, slowly moving to stand, “Is that all Abigail?” He didn’t even spare a minute to look at her, though, he could feel her eyes on him. When she offered a meek yes, finally turning to walk away, he called her back, just remembering something, “Did you finish the draft I asked you to work on?”

After a moment of hesitation, and shuffling her feet childishly, “No, Mr. Wick, I haven’t-”

“How the fuck am I supposed to start the deposition on Monday without it?” He snarled, glaring at her; John absolutely hated excuses, especially when he could tell they were going to be baseless.   Alarmed, Abigail jumped, her face going pale and her eyes glassy. Apologizing profusely, she cast her gaze to the shiny marble floor, but John was too irritated to care. He’d have fired her right on the spot, but he needed someone working his receptionist’s station and for that draft to be finished by the end of the day. So, he’d spare her, for now. “Just….get it done by five,” he’d wanted to leave by four thirty to get ready for dinner later that evening, but he’d spare Abigail the half hour, “And get the hell out of my office.” Without another world, Abigail scurried out and John  finished gathering his materials, almost ready to head to the elevator when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was a text from Y/n, and despite himself, he smiled, she never ceased to brighten his day a little. She had sent a picture of the dress she’d purchased for the night, per his request; a short, dusty mauve, chiffon one with a cowl neck and thin straps at the shoulders. Directly below that picture was another of strappy nude stilettos with thin five inch heels, John adored seeing her in high heels, especially those pencil thin, dangerous looking ones. The attachments were followed up by a simple question, “Are these okay?”

John moistened his lips, already able to picture how the outfit would look on Y/n, definitely good enough for him to want to keep her in the bedroom. She had a wonderful sense of style and normally looked good in anything. Usually, John preferred to be there when she shopped, ensuring that she wasn’t worrying about prices and that things like lingerie were suited to his tastes, but in the event that he was unavailable, John had found that she was fine on her own. “Those are perfect,” he sent the text, locking his phone and heading out of his office to the conference room.

John detested Y/n’s apartment. It was small, no, small would be an understatement, it was tiny and if he’d had his way when they were first checking places out for her, John would have seen that she’d gotten something bigger. But, he was deep in lust and Y/n hadn’t been happy with any of the other that the real estate agent took them to. In fact, it had taken almost a month for her to find that place in New York City and, when they had gone to see it, Y/n had instantly fallen in love with the quaint, cool-toned, vintage styled apartment with beige and mellow blue walls, light hardwood floors and white wooden doors that were intentionally made to look faded and unfinished. The decorator that John had hired kept with the natural vintage theme too, adding an old fashioned farm sink, a charming mix of stained marble and tiles on the kitchen counter, homely rugs and even a 1950’s refrigerator solely for aesthetic purposes. Thankfully, the running fridge was integrated and actually from their century. 

As time passed, Y/n had also ensured that her love for houseplants were reflected in her decor too. She had one in every room, always watered and tended to, some growing cheerful flowers while others just maintained a healthy greenness.

Before Y/n had moved in, John had been sure to ask her well over three times if she was sure about her decision, and each time she’d assured him that she was. Y/n had eventually explained that if she lived in something bigger she wouldn’t have a clue on what to do with the extra space, it was just her and Theo anyway.

John stood at Y/n’s door for a minute, searching for her key on his bunch, casually looking up and down the hall. Thankfully, the neighborhood and by extension, the building, was a nice one. Upon finding the right key, John slipped it into the lock, turning twice. As he entered Y/n’s apartment, John called out to her, though, before she could answer, he felt a gentle rubbing on his leg; Theo.

Chuckling, he bent, scooping up the grey Scottish fold. John held the cat to his chest, absently running his fingers affectionately on his soft head, “Where’s your mom?” He asked, already walking towards the living room, earning himself a meow.

“Oh,” Y/n was just hurrying out from the other side of the living room, barefoot and still in her silk lilac robe, though her hair and make up was already done, “John,” her eyes went wide and she looked down in embarrassment, clearly alarmed, “I’m so sorry, I must have heard the time wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured sternly, “I’m early, don’t worry about it,” he waved off her worry, still holding Theo in his arms. John had never been a cat person, but Y/n’s four year old rescue had taken a liking to him upon their first meeting and John at some point, the furry fella had grown on him. 

“Thank you,” she smiled lightly and John offered a faint smile of his own in return, “Theo!” Y/n scolded just realizing that he was in John’s arms, “You’re gonna get cat hair all over John.”

“It’s okay, he just wants a little attention,” John sat himself on her olive colored living room sofa, the length of his legs exaggerated by how low it was, “Go finish getting ready,” he urged and after a brisk nod of compliance, Y/n  hurried off again.

John’s hand was low on Y/n’s back as they followed the hostess to their party’s table in the high end French restaurant. Their table was near an elaborate indoor fountain, beneath a glittering chandelier and as they approached, Y/n could see that a middle aged couple was already seated with a round of drinks. Putting on her best smile, she waited for John to introduce her before offering her hand, “Ellis, Lauren, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Her breath hitched excitedly at the word, even if that was the way John always introduced her, it wasn’t like he went around telling people that he had an, by all intents and purposes, a paid for fuck doll. Still, it was enough to feed her hope that one day, maybe in the distant future, he could actually see her as that, as his girlfriend, that the word wouldn’t just be a cover. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” after a moment of bewilderment and obvious hesitation, they took turns shaking her delicate hand, and Y/n did her best to maintain her trained smile; she was used to dealing with snobs anyway.

Even as they introduced themselves; Lauren and Ellis Capeldai, Y/n could see they were judging her; a girl her age, with a nearly middle aged, rich, powerful man? In their minds, Y/n could only be one thing. But alas, she was used to it, and if John had taught her anything, it was that opinions didn’t matter, they were consenting adults, and whatever they did with their personal lives was no one’s but their business.

John pulled out her chair and just as Y/n sat, John did too, immediately engaging conversation with Ellis. They glazed over small talk for a couple minutes, before getting into the specifics of a case; the Capeldais’ owned a private clinic in the city and had recently had a malpractice suit brought against them. Quietly, from her position next to John, she tried to keep up with their conversation, though, she only knew that much when it came to legal and medical jargon; an English degree could only take you that far in certain directions. In fact, the only thing she could deduce was that someone’s relative had died and that John was positive that he could prove that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the dead patient’s. 

Eventually, it came to the point where the more they spoke, the less Y/n wanted to hear. There was a dirty side to John’s job, or maybe it was just John himself, though Y/n could never bring herself to see him like that, so she blamed it on the trade instead. He was always willing to go the extra mile, or twenty, for his clients, just to make sure that they won, even going those miles meant getting his hands dirty. It was rare for Y/n to see that side of him, the side that he showed clients, that was ruthless and capable of anything in the name of victory and though John’s power and confidence enthralled her, it also scared her.

If he was like that, what else could he be?

Slowly, Y/n retreated into herself, no longer paying any mind to how their conversation unfolded. Working on autopilot, she steered her gaze to the plate before her, using her fork to shift around what was left of her entree, punctuating her movements with the occasional sip of Pinot Noir. Y/n sunk into her own little world until John’s grip held firm on her exposed thigh, his warm breath fanning her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “It’s rude to play with you food darling.” His gravely drawl sent shivers up his spine, “You don’t want to ruin our night by being punished, do you?”

Hastily, Y/n shifted her dilated gaze to meet John’s whiskey pools, the new rosiness in her cheeks brightening her sparsely applied blush, evident to those that sat across from them, “No sir,” she cast her head down out of instinct, “I’m sorry.”

Surely, the Capeldais’ were spectating with intrigue, though, thankfully not hearing a word of John and Y/n’s exchange. “It’s okay,” his rough fingers inched higher, sneaking beneath the hem of Y/n’s dress, “But don’t do it again,” he warned, covering his tracks with a peck on her cheek.

Even when John redirected his attention to his food, his hand still lingered on her upper thigh, slowly working its way further up, his feather light touch ticklish and reflecting in the pooling moisture in her panties. “So Y/n, dear,” Lauren turned to Y/n, her distaste masked under a stiff smile, “What do you do when you’re not being wined and dined by Mr. Wick?” There was malice in her words, Lauren had apparently decided that Y/n was nothing but a gold digger or something of the sort. 

For a moment, Y/n glanced towards John, who cleared his throat loudly, thankfully, opting to answer for her, “Y/n works at a bank, you probably know it; Fraser Holdings,” John gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, and by then, his fingers were close enough to brush her crotch, “It’s where we met actually, I had some business there and she caught my eye.” John was a master of controlling narrative Y/n knew that every word of his explanation was chosen carefully, with the intention of carrying an air of vagueness. Y/n wasn’t ashamed of her job as a secretary, it paid the bills, at least, it used to, and she knew that John probably wasn’t either, but some people just weren’t worth the whole truth. 

“Oh,” Lauren's stiff, condescending smile was apparently permanently plastered to her no doubt Botox infused face, and her nosiness was proving to be relentless, “And how long have you two been dating?” At the question, the graying Mr. Capadali looked up, he too was intrigued by the question.

Just as the query hit the ear, John’s stocky index brushed her lace clad folds. Caught off guard, Y/n jumped, her eyes going wide and breathing an alarmed gasp, her knee made painful contact with the bottom of the table as she crossed her legs, only serving to squeeze John’s hand in place. Again, she looked to him, but that time, he indicated for her to take the question, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, his trimmed scruff hiding it almost perfectly. “Um…” her words wavered as he rubbed gently, just barely grazing her nub with his pointer, the lace of her panties adding extra, effective friction. “We’ve been together for about a year.”

A slight tugging on Y/n’s thigh was enough of an instruction for her to uncross her legs, parting them slightly. Under the security of the pristine white tablecloth, John pushed aside the crotch of her panties, rubbing Y/n’s cilt slowly with the ‘v’ of his index and middle fingers. Once again startled, she glanced his way, but he merely offered. Her swollen bud throbbed beneath his expert touch and Y/n had to hide the moan that threatened to escape her matted-burgundy painted lips with a lengthy drag of her wine. Her breath shuddered as she set the glass down, quickly looking to John, who'd already rekindled conversation with the older couple, seemingly unaffected by her plight.

Her eyes stayed trained on his side profile though her attention waned; John's handsome features blurring as her orbs glazed over with desire. By then, it wasn't hard to identify the distinct pink hue standing out on her otherwise flushed cheeks and the absence of focus was blatant. The more prolonged John's ministrations became, the closer Y/n got to her tipping point. Just out of the corner of her faulty vision, Y/n could see when John carelessly let the fabric napkin fall over his hardened crotch, the creases and haphazardness of the eggshell material masking his hard on. 

Another hitch of her breath came when one of John’s fingers slid further into her drenched heat, her posture, maybe thankfully, not allowing him access to her entrance. Though, John had a solution for everything, no mind how harsh or abrupt it may be, “Well, Ellis, Lauren,” he cleared his throat, pretending to check his watch. A waiter had just cleared their plates and had promised to be back soon with a desert menu, “I think we’ve covered a lot tonight, but Y/n and I have an early start tomorrow,” for the first time in a while, he removed his fingers, dragging them along her inner thigh, messily spreading her slickness. Now hot, bothered and still in the middle of a packed restaurant, Y/n could quickly feel herself growing frustrated at the loss of contact, ready to grab her clutch off its resting place on the table as John signaled a waiter, handing over a business card and requesting that the final bill be sent to his office. Y/n doubted that it was something the establishment regularly did, but there wasn’t a soul willing to deny John Wick. Besides, if he said he was going to pay, there wasn’t a bit of doubt that he wouldn’t. John was a man of his word. 

After they’d bid their companions goodnight and safe travels, John led Y/n out of the restaurant, holding onto her into her light petite coat as the valet brought around his navy Maserati, the dark coat shining even in their dimmed surroundings. John, as Y/n had learnt, was quite the car enthusiast and he’d collected quite a few over the years, enough to supply a small dealership, with almost everything from prized, classic muscle cars and widely adored classics to flashy sports cars and of course, some more sophisticated ones. 

After they’d gotten in, John had tossed her coat to the back seat and then peeled away from the curb, navigating the car onto the busy street, easily weaving through the thinning traffic. Stealing a glace, Y/n found that John’s expression wasn’t readily readable, though, when, not too long after they’d left, he turned into a deserted, poorly lit, damp alleyway between a shady Chinese restaurant and a low grade department store, she got a pretty clear idea of he wanted. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look in that dress babygirl?” His question strained and mumbled as John undid his seat belt and used the lever beneath his seat to push it back a little. Excitement had Y/n breathing heavily, and she didn’t think to answer his question. “Didn’t I ask you something?” He probed roughly, undoing the belt, button and zipper on his black slacks.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, blushing and blinking quickly, her stomach fluttered when John reached over to undo her seat belt, easily manhandling her over the console and into his lap.

“Well let me show you,” he grunted, grabbing her hand and shoving into his undone pants, over his erection, gasping quietly at the distinct firmness overtaking his member, “See what you do to me? This is all you baby,” he whispered harshly, catching her ear lobe between his teeth. 

The alluring aroma of fine wine and musky cologne clouded her senses and Y/n’s breath hitch, the sound quiet, and pitched. “Sir,” she moaned, eyes wide and pupils lust blown as her hand lingered in John’s pants long after he’d stopped applying pressure. 

John trailed feverish kisses down the column of her neck, high on the scent of her perfume, occasionally alternating between lapping his tongue over her vein and nibbling her skin. He was definitely going to leave marks, claiming her as his own. As his mouth ravaged her throat, John fiddled with the thin straps of her dress, letting them slip carelessly down the curve of her shoulders, eventually urging her arms out of them and pushing the top down, exposing her breasts, pushed together enticingly by a simple, cream colored strapless bra. “I want you to ride my cock,” John’s fingers slid up her body, thumbs brushing the smooth, stain covered padding over her nipples, before easily undoing the front clasp and freeing her full, voluptuous breasts, “Now,” he growled, pushing aside the crotch of her flimsy thong, his digits brushing the lips of her swollen, soaked pussy.

With anxious hands, Y/n helped John shove his pants down to the area right above his knees, “Come on,” he slouched further into the leather stead in an instant, John’s hands were up her dress, holding her hips in place as she eased down on him. Feeling how he bottomed out inside her, stretching her tightness so wide it burned, Y/n’s head lolled back, squeezing her eyes shut as her loud moan bounced off the windows. “Move, now,” he managed through his clenched jaw after he’d given Y/n a minute to adjust. 

Desperate, filthy mewls swirled in the heavy air around them, joining John’s languid grunts as his hips rose to meet hers. Each time Y/n came down on him, her bouncing erratic and harsh, her core slapped his balls, rendering loud, wet, perverted sounds. “Sir,” her breathy cries were the only interruptions of her heady noises.

"Fuck," John hissed, just before taking one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her pebbled nipple and one hand sliding up her back, pressing her chest to his face, "Faster," he urged.

Y/n's eager hands slid up John's chest, the material of his grey button up smooth under her palm, his carnal heat seeping through. She settled them beneath the lapels of his tailored, black blazer, bunching the fabric up in her fingers as she quickened her pace with renewed vigor. 

The tinted windows around them fogged over and the purring of the engine fell on deaf ears. John could feel her nails digging into his skin, even through his shirt and the throbbing veins running up his shaft offered Y/n an irresistible friction. Every time she came up, only to sink back down on him, John’s swollen tip reaching her end, Y/n could feel herself drawing closer to the edge. “Please,” she whimpered, pleading for John to permit her release.

John’s hips  jerked upwards to slam into Y/n’s center, the remaining hand caught under her dress now aggressively squeezing and kneading her ass. The other violently grabbed a fistful of her head, rearing her head further back so John could ravish her neck without resistance, “Do it,” he commanded between skin pulling bites, “I want to feel your cunt squeezing my cock. You’re my little bitch and I need to feel you cum.”

Before long, Y/n was shuddering; her legs straddling John stiffening and her pussy convulsing as warm juices gushed from her center. Her gasps were broken and her breaths ragged as Y/n’s eyes rolled back and her hold on John’s now wrinkled shirt loosened. With a slackened jaw, the rest of her body went limp and John was the one still moving, though, his thrusts rigid. 

The feeling of Y/n milking his cock entwined by the ecstasy that always accompanied being buried deep inside her was pleasurably unmatched and soon, John was following her to release, “Fuck Y/n,” he sputtered, slowing his movement as he spurted bursts of hot seed inside of her, their products mixing as it seeped out, coating Y/n’s thighs and dripping onto his.

It took awhile for their breaths to slow and for any sense of coherence to make its way back into the stilling running car, and even after; they lingered, John’s now flaccid cock still cocooned in her settled center. When he finally guided her off him, John used tissues from the glove compartment to clean Y/n up as she still sat in his lap, and she let him readjust her dress, forgoing her bra, instead just pulling the straps over her arms. When he set her back in the passenger seat, Y/n winced, though she wasn’t half as sore as she’d usually be after sessions with John, when he had more room and time to work with. In fact, hot, spontaneous moments like that one were rare, which arguably only made them more enjoyable.

Except, that night, as Y/n silently watched John clean himself up, his expression stoic, as it typically was, she couldn’t help but feel a little dirty, and not just in a physical way. That dinner hadn’t been her best one with him, she didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him as the villain, willing to desecrate the name of a dead man. Logically, she knew that it was the job, and someone had to do it, but being that good at it? It took guts and a certain kind of coldness that frightened her. 

And then, of course, there was the typical issue of their otherwise unattached status. Because, as scary as John was when he was in his element, she still found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, which wasn’t exactly ideal, considering the more she fell, the more it hurt when she remembered that she was just his sub. It was confusing, but mostly it hurt.

The drive back to Y/n’s place was without conversation, though, when John parked on the curb and Y/n had gathered her stuff, namely her purse with generous bits of her bra sticking out the top and her coat draped over it, John grabbed her leg before she could get out, “Do you have vacation days?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, intrigued though not daring to say anything further.

“How many?” John’s eyes were void of anything telling and he wasn’t going to give her more without Y/n’s compliance.

“A month.”

“Good,” John reclaimed his hand, immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and his fingers going to dance on the unlocked, brightened screen. He didn’t look at her again, leaving her bewildered as he came out and jogged to her side, opening the door for her. John helped her out of the car, and with a hand low on her back, he walked to the front double doors of the building, holding one side open but making no move to go in himself. “I want you to take two weeks,” he said, putting his cell away, “I’m taking you to a summer home in North Carolina. Abigail will book a jet for Sunday afternoon, call your boss and tell him you won’t be in on Monday,” and before Y/n could protest that she actually needed to give H.R. a month’s notice, John intervened, “If he gives you any trouble, let me know and I'll talk to him, okay?” By ‘talk to him’, it was quite possible that he meant bullying her boss into giving her the time off without consequence.

“Yes,” her lips quivered in surprise, and Y/n nodded again, “Okay.”

“Okay,” John repeated, stiffly reaching across to peck the side of her lips, “I’ll send you the flight details, and I’ll taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon,” when Y/n agreed, they exchanged pleasant good-nights and John finally let Y/n go, secretly hoping that their trip would do them both some good in terms of their upcoming discussion. 

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[whatapunk]

Chapter 3!!

I’m not sure how well I did it (as dialogue and I do NOT get along), but writing drunken Kanan/Rhia/Hera banter was a blast for me.  I’d also like to point out that I mention the Gorse conflict several times in this chapter and I think most people in the kanera fandom are familiar with that story, but if you haven’t read A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller you should give it a go! Especially if your soul needs every scrap of kanera you can find. As always, thank you so much for any likes and reblogs! You guys are the freaking best.

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: m for the profanity, possibly for non-explicit intimacy later 

Word Count: 3217

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2

Chapter 3

“Force, Rhia, that was delicious.” Kanan placed his fork on his plate and pushed it away from him, feeling more full than he’d been in months. She smiled her thank you at his compliment. 

Kanan swirled the contents of his drink around, examining them before taking a sip. He could already feel the alcohol, and he was only one and a half drinks in. He thought back to nights at the bar on Gorse and how many drinks he’d put away all while still being remarkably coherent. He also thought of all the nights he’d spent on the floor of that bar and decided he’d made a good trade-off in his adulthood.

Rhia stood and collected the plates and utensils, taking them over to the sink. Kanan watched her, his thoughts back on the lost memory of her cooking him breakfast that had suddenly made its home in his brain again. He smirked and let out a quick chuckle, realizing the image of her standing at the sink now matched the one in his memory like a mirror- just, with more clothing. She looked back at him.

“Something funny?”

“It doesn’t feel all that different,” he started. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Us, I mean,” he explained. “I had all these things I thought up to say to you but then you were just…” he trailed off, unsure of his next words.

“Just what?” she asked. He shrugged but smiled down into his glass as he drained it for the second time. 

“I don’t know. Just you,” he said, his voice just beginning to be swallowed by alcohol-induced giddiness. “I kept thinking about what I should say to you earlier when I was meditating,” he said, ignoring or just not noticing the increase in the height of her already raised brow. “But then I got here and you were making dinner and suddenly we’re just shooting the shit like I’m 22 and you’re…” he paused, frowning. “How old are you again?” he asked, surprised he’d forgotten. He blamed it on the alcohol. She grimaced.

“I’m glad you’ve forgotten,” was all she offered up as an answer. He moved on.

“I’m just saying, you haven’t changed. At all,” he finished. He could hear his tone shifting, becoming lighter than it had been all day. Again, he gave credit to the alcohol. Rhia smirked but otherwise left the comment unacknowledged.

“Since when do you meditate?” she asked as she rinsed the dishes off.

“It’s new,” was all he added.

“Is that a jedi thing?” He looked at her, a little surprised. Rhia knew who Kanan was, but it was still somewhat new to him to hear people talk about it openly. 

“It is. I’m sort of a jedi again,” he said and laughed at his own statement. He reached back and rubbed his neck. “It’s weird.” 

Rhia finished washing the plates and walked back over to the table. On her way, she grabbed the glass bottle off the counter. She poured her own drink and didn’t bother to look at Kanan. She capped the bottle and set it near the center of the table. 

“You know, I don’t really drink… at all anymore,” Kanan offered, eyeing the bottle. 

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhia replied simply, quite relaxed. She’d meant it; she had no interest in trying to get Kanan drunk, especially if it was happening as quickly as it seemed to be. However, if he chose to get drunk, she certainly wasn’t going to stop him. 

Kanan reached out slowly and grabbed the bottle, a peaceful look on his face. He poured another drink for himself and took a sip. 

“You’ll never believe this, but-” and he laughed, caught off guard by how funny his next statement would sound to Rhia. “I have an apprentice- a padawan,” he said, slipping back into his chuckles. Rhia’s mouth all but fell open.

“You what?” she asked in disbelief. “You have a padawan?” Rhia was joking, but she was also very serious. Kanan finished laughing and looked up at her, nodding.

“Yep. And you know, I’m not a half bad teacher honestly,” he said, feeling prouder than he expected to. It was Rhia’s turn to laugh. “I’m serious!” he protested.

“Kanan,” she began. “Who put you in charge of their child?” she asked in the middle of another fit of laughter. Kanan’s face remained tranquil, but he did get a little more serious.

“Well… he doesn’t have parents- not anymore,” he said. Rhia stopped laughing and her expression softened. 

“Well that’s… that’s good of you,” she said and took a drink. The more somber moment passing quickly, she looked back up at him with sudden realization. “Shit Kanan, you’re not just a master, you’re like a father aren’t you?” Kanan let out a short laugh that morphed into a sigh.

“Yeah I.... I kinda am. We’re kind of like parents,” he said, his grin turning huge. 

“We?” Rhia asked, interested. Kanan looked quickly down at his drink for another sip. 

“Yeah uh,” he began awkwardly. “Me and Hera we’re kind of… together.” Rhia smiled at him.

“She’s pretty impressive, Kanan,” she said and he smiled back at her, letting out a breath. “Way too good for you,” she added.

“You are not wrong.” 

“Though, I assume she still fits your type,” she said and Kanan immediately rolled his eyes.

“Rhia, I don’t have a type,” he said adamantly, but she’d started giggling. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be people with ‘daddy issues,’” he said, making air quotes. Rhia’s laughter filled the room. 

Back on Gorse one drunken night, Rhia had begun taking a long oral history of Kanan’s ex-partners. After around a dozen stories that all pretty much began and ended the same way, Rhia surmised that Kanan seemed to be attracted to lovers who tended to have some either spoken or unspoken issues with their fathers. Kanan protested adamantly and continuously, and this had only worked to confirm Rhia’s suspicions. Upon inquiring about Rhia’s father, Rhia gladly told him that he’d passed away when she was a child. Kanan then accused her of lying to prove her point, much to Rhia’s amusement. 

“So,” Rhia began, fighting down a burst of laughter, “you’re saying Hera has a really great relationship with her dad then, yes?” Kanan didn’t look up and tried desperately to hide the fact that he was holding back laughter. He took a drink, hoping to hide his creeping smile behind his glass. In the silence, they both eventually burst into laughter. 

Kanan was definitely feeling it. His head felt like it was suspended in a bacta tank and there was a permanently peaceful look on his face. Having been so tense for weeks, this was undoubtedly a welcome disposition. There was something to be said as well for Rhia and the conversation they were having. Not only had it felt so nice to tell her about his family now, she’d made it feel so natural and ok. Not that he’d done anything wrong, but many exes could easily have turned bitter or offered fake support. Rhia, however, had been warm and normal. Telling her about Hera and Ezra felt just as natural as any of their conversations had been seven years ago. Still, there was no doubt- as much as the thought of Hera right now made his heart swell, his reverence toward Rhia in this regard had begun to sow seeds of conflict in him. 

Their laughter subsided. Rhia met his eyes from across the table and the seeds began to grow. Kanan downed the last of his drink and gave all the signs of being about to leave. Just before he stood up, however, a very special voice spoke to him from the doorway. 

“I wondered where you were,” Hera said, causing Kanan to go from surprised to smiling like an idiot in record time. 

“Hera!” he said, and noted the volume in his voice had risen for no reason. He really couldn’t hold his alcohol anymore. Hera’s eyes widened knowingly, going from him to the bottle, and she smirked. 

“Captain Syndulla,” Rhia stood up welcomingly and offered her a hand. “I didn’t really get to introduce myself earlier. I’m Rhia Denley,” she said, not seeming at all three drinks deep. She took Hera’s hand gently and the twi’lek returned a smile. 

“Hera,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you. I rarely get to meet a friend of Kanan’s,” she added. Rhia turned back to him and they both looked at him as he grinned drunkenly.

“That’s not surprising,” Rhia said. “He never had many of those,” and both women laughed at his expense. “Please, sit,” Rhia insisted, offering her a chair. She then went to the cabinet and pulled out another glass. Placing it in front of Hera, she began pouring. Hera held up a hand at a half.

“Oh that’s plenty, thank you,” and Rhia stopped obligingly. 

“We were just talking about you,” Rhia began and Kanan shot her a look, concerned about exactly which part of their conversation Rhia was about to share. Rhia pretended not to notice. “I can’t believe Kanan has a padawan. You should have known this man on Gorse!”

Hera looked at him with pride, but she also took note of the fact that Rhia knew he was a jedi. She then realized Rhia had said “Gorse.”

“I did know him on Gorse,” Hera started. “Or, well, I met him on Gorse.” 

Rhia looked at Kanan subtly and for the first time all night, the warmth in her face faltered slightly. 

“It was after you… left,” Kanan offered, jumping in. “Maybe like a month after you left. I ran into Hera and swept her off her feet of course.” Hera snorted and Rhia followed.

“I know there is no kriffing way she followed you anywhere,” Rhia said, taking a drink. She turned to Hera, all but pretending Kanan wasn’t in front of her. “He was in trouble wasn’t he?” she asked flatly. Hera laughed.

“Something like that.” Kanan threw out his hands in dramatic disbelief.

“What? You were in trouble- we all were!” Kanan griped. Hera nodded, appeasing him.

“That’s true. Gorse was a mess,” she said and took a drink. 

“What happened there?” Rhia asked. Kanan looked at her and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“You remember that explosives guy, Skelly?” At the name, Rhia threw her head back in a resounding affirmative. 

“Skelly! Man that guy was a fucking wack job,” she said and Hera laughed, clearly agreeing. “You met him?” Rhia asked.

“Oh yeah. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I have to agree. Skelly nearly got us killed a handful of times.” Rhia was definitely interested now.

Over the next hour or so (eventually none of them was really aware of the time), Hera and Kanan regaled Rhia with how they met on Gorse and the entirety of the disasters and successes of that highly unplanned mission. Eventually Hera emptied her glass and didn’t object to another, nor did Kanan. 

Truthfully, the drunker Rhia got the more her insides were a battlefield of emotions. Here she was with two people whose company she was enjoying immensely. But she couldn’t deny that everything that had once attracted her to Kanan was still alive and well. In fact, he’d only seemed to change for the better since she’d last known him. Additionally, she was falling in love with Hera almost immediately. The twi’lek had come off as calm and quiet, and while she definitely embodied those traits to an extent, she was also assertive and commanded attention, even when she appeared meek. Rhia understood why Kanan was with her, and she could only imagine the luck he felt at having met her, let alone being her partner.

Rhia poured another glass, attempting to drown her thoughts, at least until she could be alone with them. She’d lost count of how many drinks they’d each had, but the bottle was approaching its final drops, a sign that the number was quite large. Kanan’s eyes were drooping and she wondered how long he’d last before he’d try to sleep on the floor. Hera was feeling it too, but she’d paced herself and remained relatively composed. Her speech gave her away though; each drink she took seemed to chip away at her filter. It just made Rhia like her more.

“Did you know him when he was Caleb Dume?” Hera asked abruptly, looking at Rhia with an interested expression. Rhia was a bit caught off guard and looked to Kanan for a hint at how to proceed. He met her eyes but said nothing.

“I did,” Rhia started, “or at least I think he was between ‘Caleb Dume’ and ‘Kanan Jarrus,’” she offered. Hera seemed to be contemplating this. 

“I didn’t go by ‘Kanan’ yet, but she outed me,” Kanan said, pointing an accusatory finger at Rhia. Rhia rolled her eyes yet again.

“Hera,” she said, turning away from Kanan. “You should have seen this kid,” she started and a few drunken giggles made her pause. “You think he’s bad now? Everything annoying he does now, he did times a thousand when I met him,” and she slipped back into giggles with Hera. Kanan shook his head but smiled. Hera’s face lit up at a thought.

“You knew him when he was a kid?” Hera asked, excitedly. 

“Well, not exactly. He was 17 but he was absolutely a kid that’s for sure,” she said grinning back at Kanan. “Though,” she went back to Hera, “if you told him he was a kid he’d get so offended,” she said and cackled with the twi’lek. 

“He told me he hates that! Like, defensive much?” Hera said with a laugh. Kanan looked at both of them.

“I’m right here, guys,” he offered, but Rhia and Hera were still too busy laughing at the thought of young, defensive Kanan.

“Hera, do you know what this little teenager did nearly the moment he met me?” she asked. “Keep in mind, I’m quite a bit older than him and I was definitely too old for him when he was seventeen.” It was Hera’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh kriff, he tried to hit on you didn’t he?” 

“Don’t tell me-” Rhia started, egging Hera on.

“He did the same thing to me!” Hera nearly shouted and the two women doubled over in laughter. 

“Wow,” was all Kanan could say, returning to his glass. Eventually Rhia and Hera finished laughing and dabbed the tears from their eyes.

“So how did you figure out he was Caleb?” Hera asked.

“Well, at the time he was running with the smuggler Janus Kasmir,” Rhia started. Hera nodded.

“He’s told me about him.”

“So at the time I was part of a crew on a transport that he and Kasmir hired. Only,” she looked and spoke directly at Kanan, “they failed to tell us just how hot they were before we took off,” Rhia joked, as if she still held it against him. “I’d done some bounty hunter work before, so after even the slightest bit of research I found his goofy little face all over the holonet in an instant, and he hadn’t even bothered to disguise himself!” she all but yelled.

“I’d changed my look!” Kanan argued. “I’d started wearing a ponytail then,” he said with drunken confidence. Rhia and Hera shared a knowing look. 

“He looked nearly identical,” Rhia continued. “So, I told our captain we needed to drop them, only-”

“He was a huge asshole,” Kanan cut her off. She snorted.

“Indeed. I didn’t tell him Kanan was a jedi, but he’d figured out that if I was so eager to get rid of them, he must be worth a lot. So, he intended to collect with the Empire. And do you know what this fucking maniac and Kasmir did to me?” she asked Hera, getting heated. Hera’s eyes were wide and she shook her head, invested.

“Look-” Kanan had started, but Rhia continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Those two idiots stunned me- even though I was going to help them! Next thing I know, I'm waking up on the floor of an escape pod with a crick in my neck!" she said, finishing her story with a drink. Hera frowned and looked at Kanan with goofy disapproval.

"Kanan!" she chastised him. He held his hands up in defense.

"We didn't know you were planning on helping us!" he spoke in a way that said this was not the first time he'd had to defend himself here. "The captain was your boyfriend. We assumed you'd just go along with him, so we took you hostage. And it worked!” he added. Rhia narrowed her eyes at him with a smirk. 

“It did, but I hadn’t thought about turning either of you in until I woke up in that pod,” she said, laughing and lost in the memory for a moment. She drained her glass. 

Hera watched the red-haired woman with great interest and warmth. She’d gleaned from their awkward meeting earlier that day that she and Kanan had some sort of history, and she’d felt the early pangs of jealousy when she’d found them here alone, drinking. But Rhia had a friendliness to her that seemed to quiet any other negative emotion in the room. There were still quiet thoughts in Hera’s mind relating to Rhia’s pleasing face and her tall, muscular frame that made her feel like competition. Not to mention, her vibrant hair, which seemed so deeply red at times and other times, when her movements caught the dim lighting just right, seemed almost reflective and chromatic. Regardless, Hera mostly felt like she’d formed a fast friend, and it was nice to be around another woman her own age. The alcohol didn’t hurt either. 

“So what happened next?” Hera asked, interested in the end of the story.

“Well, we did a job or two together, just so I could get some cash now that I was crewless and shipless,” Rhia said, giving Kanan another quick look. “But it didn’t last much longer and I left him and Kasmir. Though, I did hear about some low-profile work on Gorse back then and I told him about it. I never thought he’d actually listen to me,” she finished, giving Kanan a small smile. There it was again, that competitive feeling inside of Hera.

“And then you ended up there at the same time, years later?” she asked, drawing Rhia’s attention back to her. 

“Somehow, yes,” Kanan said, a little quieter than he’d been. A comfortable hush fell over the table. Three drunken adults sat, enveloped in warm intoxication and warmer memories. It hurt each one of them a bit to notice the emptiness of the bottle in front of them. The realization that the night was drawing to a close began descending on them, and Rhia, noticing the small bit left in each of their glasses, held up hers in a toast.

“To old and new friends,” she said, looking from Kanan to Hera. They both smiled back at Rhia and drained their glasses with her, adding the slightest bit of fog to their already foggy brains. 

[xo-stardust720]

Swiping Right (Into Love)  - ch 2

Special thanks to @natrogersfics​ and @chalantness​ for editing this chapter!

Dedicated to @aquajules​ because I promised her a new birthday fic (which I started...) but then ended up working on this update and finishing it instead... and then this update ended up being late anyway... What can I say? I'm a human disaster. Happy belated birthday Emilee!

Steve has never been one to really go with the flow.

That isn’t to say that he’s super uptight about everything in general, but when his roommate/best friend comes home with some  exciting news, the tone of Bucky’s voice is enough to cause Steve some anxiety and to be immediately on his guard. There’s a certain amount of glee and exhilaration in the way his friend burst through their front door… and this is Steve’s warning sign that he’s about to be dragged into some sort of mishap that most likely won’t end well for him. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his oldest friend in the world -- there’s no one that he  trusts more than Bucky -- it’s just that, most of the time, trusting Bucky is what gets him into awkward situations in the first place.

(Awkward  was putting it mildly. It was usually a disaster.)

It’s been this way since they were kids. Where Bucky leads, he’s usually along for the ride. On the occasions that his mouth goes running off and gets him into trouble, good-ole Bucky is the one there to bail him out. Literally. He actually ended up in jail once, a fact that his best friend still delightedly brings up as a conversation topic to this day.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for his best friend, he’s pretty sure his life would be quiet. And boring.

It would probably be  really boring.

So when Bucky comes home and throws himself onto the couch next to him announcing, “guess what our plans are for the weekend?” -- his first instincts are to say no.

He goes with his gut.

“No,” he says, not even bothering to look up from the sketch in front of him.

“You don’t even know what we’re going to do yet,” Bucky immediately protests.

“Doesn't matter.”

“Steve, c’mon! At least wait until I tell you what happened to me today before you decide you’re not going. And by the way, you can’t say no. You are an essential component to this plan, and I won’t let you ruin it for me, you punk.”

"Jerk," he automatically replies, but then he's letting out a sigh as he turns to face his friend. "What happened?"

“So I met these two ladies at the bookstore today…”

He groans, already knowing where this conversation is heading. “Buck, tell me you didn’t set up  another  double date.”

His best friend smirks. “You know that I did. Why do you even bother asking?”

“Because sometimes I still have hope that you’ll realize the women you try to set me up with tend to end up disappointed, and that you won’t do it anymore," he says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, without me, you’d never go anywhere,” Bucky points out. “And I’ll admit, our dates could’ve been better vetted in the past. Sorry about that. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

“Did you at least tell her about me? So that I won’t be a shock to the system when she actually sees me for the first time?”

“I said all good things, I swear!”

“Bucky,” he sighs.

“No, seriously. You didn’t see these women, Steve. They were bombshells. We hit the jackpot!”  

Steve lets out another sigh. Bucky is always coming in all enthusiastic about whatever their next adventure is - this is how it's always been. Whatever Bucky's up to, he makes sure that he's never too far behind. Steve and Bucky 'til the end of the line, always, is what his best friend likes to repeat. And he believes him. Even if he never has anything else, he'll always have Bucky in his corner.

He turns back to his sketch, picking up the pencil that he’d abandoned and as he gets back to work, it prompts Bucky to begin telling the story of how his trip to the bookstore had ended up with a plan for the two of them to go on a double date with some strangers. In truth, it didn’t surprise Steve in the least that his friend somehow managed to infiltrate his way into a conversation after admitting to eavesdropping on everything they were saying. Bucky just had that kind of charm. “So, let me get this straight,” he says once his friend is done telling him what’d happened. “You’re setting me up with the girl that literally rejected  you  on Tinder. She actually swiped  left  on  you  -- which by the way, already sounds like a load of bullshit because  no one  ever swipes left on you. And after you showed her my picture, she agreed to be  my date  while her friend goes out with you.” He eyes his best friend doubtfully. “There are giant holes in this story, Buck.”

“But that’s what happened!” Bucky insists. “I had Natasha’s profile up on my Tinder and I’d swiped right and everything. We didn’t match. She really did say no to me!”

It's not as if Steve thinks his best friend is lying to him, per se. But the story sounds almost too good to be true. For most of their lives, Bucky has had very few problems when it comes to attracting members of the opposite sex. Hell, the same could be said for Bucky attracting members of their gender. People look twice whenever he walks past, and once Bucky had joined Tinder? Well, it's become even easier for him to fill a calendar with people to see and get to know.

But the same could not be said for him.

The day he joined Tinder, he did so with all the reluctance in the world and mostly at Bucky’s urging. His friend was having all the success (unsurprising) and wanted him to partake; which he mostly did so that Bucky would leave him alone and give him some peace. Even before he downloaded the app, he knew he wouldn’t have much luck on it, but as Bucky put it, “you never know, right? Some people actually find their future spouses there!”

Well, Steve did know. And as it turned out, he was right.

It started off well-enough at first. There were a few matches and, for a little while, Steve thought he was actually doing okay. Little by little, his hopes were raised and he thought  hey, maybe this new way of dating isn’t so bad. After all, no one wanted to be alone forever, right? It would be nice to have  some kind of companionship and to find the right partner. His profile was getting a few likes and the conversations were comfortable enough that he even went on a few first dates.

But after a couple of weeks, things started coming to a standstill.

The most annoying thing about Tinder though, was the ghosting - when the matches disappeared without any explanation. It's not something that Steve had purposely learned, but he didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was happening. The likes to his profile started dropping off, the conversations became the generic ‘How are you?  I’m fine and how are you doing? I’m good’ before stagnating. If he suggested they go get coffee, they'd stop replying. It was starting to become a pattern that he spotted immediately after the first couple of weeks. Having three separate first dates with three different women, he had a feeling that each woman was only in it for the free meal because they always suggested nice restaurants, but after the dates were over, there was never any follow up for a second date. As a gentleman, he believed that buying a girl dinner first before any romance started was the right thing to do. But realistically, it was starting to put a giant dent in his bank account, and if he started buying every woman dinner on the first date, he’d probably have no savings left.

This, on the other hand, did not seem to be a problem for Bucky, and Steve had resigned himself to accepting that sometimes other people just had all the luck. And looks. Bucky could get away with just about anything when he flashes his smile that seems to melt even butter. Steve lost track of how many coffee dates Bucky has had in the last couple months and it would seem he never had to worry about his bank account balances.

If Tinder has taught Steve anything, it is that most of the people who signed up for it really relied heavily on physical attributes. If you were attractive, you’d have a much better chance of getting a second and third date. And since everyone knows that Tinder is a hookup app, Steve knows he doesn't stand much of a chance there, either. He isn't the exception to the rule and he knows it. He will be forever known as Skinny Steve, the option no one wanted… not when there are other guys around that are taller, better looking, and more muscular. Women always seem to fixate on those particular characteristics and it isn’t like Steve could climb into a chamber and magically come out big and strong. He has what he has, and for the most part, he is alright with it. It doesn’t stop him from wishing from time to time that things could be different and that the world isn’t as shallow and vapid as the app makes it out to be, but alas, he tries not to dwell on it too much.

Bucky has even tried to help him out. He was the camera man behind all of his profile pictures and even helped edit his biography when he felt that what he had written down didn’t have enough “spice” to grab a woman’s attention. Quite frankly, it was exhausting trying to come up with some interesting facts about himself on the off chance that someone  might look past his pictures long enough to read. And even after all the effort Bucky put into changing his profile around, in the end he had decided to change his bio to simply say, “Hi, I’m Steve.” The people he matches with would either want to get to know him, or they’ll move on… it’s out of his hands.

He doesn’t even go on the app much anymore. Why bother when he knows people aren’t really going to swipe right on him? He was rejected enough on a regular basis.

Feeling Bucky’s expectant gaze, Steve tries his best to ignore it and to continue working away at his sketch. His best friend, never one to be ignored though, just pokes him in the shoulder. He was going to be annoying about this, he just knew it. Brushing back a stray hair that fell into his face, he faces his friend and gives him a small smile. “When is this aforementioned date?”

His best friend grins triumphantly. “After you’re done work on Friday, of course.”

“And where are we going?”

“Leave it all to me,” Bucky pats him on the back, gripping his shoulder with support in the way he always does. “I’ll tell the girls to meet us at your shop and we’ll go from there.”

Steve loves Bucky, he does, but Bucky has zero perspective about these things. Steve doesn’t see how this time would be different from any other time but he tries not to let the apprehension show on his face. He makes one last ditch effort to get out of going. “I don’t know, Buck. Look, maybe you should just tell ‘em I got sick or that something came up. Take Sam with you, I’m sure this girl would probably be happier to see Sam in my place.”

“She saw your picture and she said  yes to you! She’s amazing, Steve. Red hair. Green eyes. Literally looks like she could be a model. She might actually be one for all I know… I didn’t really get a chance to find out what she does for a living.”

“Well, at least she’s seen a picture of what I look like and knows what she’s in for. I was getting tired of people looking at me like you sold them some gold and what they actually got was bronze,” Steve sighs as the last of his resistance fades away and resigns himself to going along with Bucky’s plan. “Alright, I’ll go, but only because she was nice enough to say yes and it would be rude if I don’t show up.”

“It’s gonna be a great night, Steve! You’ll see!”

----

Over the next few days, Steve watches as Bucky becomes increasingly more excited about their “hang out” as it was described. Usually his friend would be the picture perfect of calm when it came to first dates, casually shrugging it off as if it was no big deal. The fact that Bucky was flitting around and trying to find the perfect activity for them to do, told Steve that perhaps,  this date  was different. At least, it seems to be different for Bucky.

Friday night, at 5:50pm on the dot, Steve waits with Bucky outside of his shop for the two girls that would be their dates for the evening. “Hey, there they are. The brunette is Wanda and the redhead is Natasha.”

Steve’s gaze immediately lands on the redhead as the two women walk towards them and he feels his heart lurch. This woman is  gorgeous. Her red hair falls in long smooth waves past her shoulders, she wears only a little makeup--dark mascara and a little pink on the lips--but she doesn't need more. Natasha is slightly shorter than her friend, and she’s all curves--Steve apologizes internally for even lingering on that but he wants to draw her because she has the proportions of a work of art. She looks like a movie star, or a model that Bucky had previously claimed she might be.

It makes Steve want to disappear. Perhaps it’s the cowardly way out, but he almost doesn’t want to meet Natasha because he wants to remember her in the moment before they meet, before the dismay sets in and she looks for an excuse to leave once she sets eyes on him. The girls are getting closer and then it’s too late, they’re there in front him and he can’t run away now. He takes a deep breath and steels himself for the disappointed expression girls always seem to have when they see him for the first time.

That expression never comes. Instead, Steve looks up into a friendly smile as the redhead extends her hand out to him. “Hi, I’m Natasha.” There’s no trace of the apprehension or disillusionment that usually accompanies the blind dates that Bucky sets him on. Natasha looks at him with attentiveness, like she’s already found him interesting and couldn’t wait to find out more.  

“Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you.” He can’t believe his voice works and that he remembers to take her hand. Her grip is strong and firm as she shakes his hand. Her skin feels soft and her nails are painted a bold shade of emerald green, he notices. She’s so well put together that it seems effortless, like she just woke up that morning and threw on the first thing she found in her closet without even looking. “Thanks for coming.”

“Well, I couldn’t pass up a chance to meet a guy that’s worth more than ten times other men I’ll meet collectively or so Bucky says,” Natasha winks at him. Her tone is flirtatious and he doesn’t know how to react. This is brand new territory for Steve Rogers.

“He said that about me?” Steve asks. He glances over at Bucky only to see that he’s completely wrapped up in Wanda, and he realizes that he’s still holding onto Natasha’s hand and he lets go, hoping that he doesn't come off too gawky and blundering.

Natasha grins as she lets her hand slip from his, and there’s something about her, the sparkle in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks, that has captured his attention so completely.  “He said a lot of nice things,” she reassures him. “Quite a friend you’ve got there, Steve.”

Before Steve could respond, Bucky approaches them. His arm is already around Wanda’s shoulders, looking as comfortable as can be and Steve wishes he could be the kind of guy that could pull off a move like that without looking horribly awkward. Natasha isn’t that much shorter than him and it probably could work if Steve tried, but he doubts it would be as smooth. He takes a moment to study Wanda, and he understands exactly why his best friend is so besotted by her already. Wanda is all smiles, and bubbly, as she extends her own hand to greet him and he finds that he’s immediately charmed by her.

“So, where are we going?” Wanda asks.

“Coney Island,” Bucky replies. “Games, awesome rides, great food - what more could you want on a first date?”

“Oooh! That sounds fun!” Wanda grins.

Steve groans internally and probably didn’t hide his expression well enough because Natasha catches it. “Not a fan of amusement parks?” she asks, looking curious.

“It’s not that,” he replies. “Just remembering what happened the last time I rode the Cyclone.”

“He threw up,” Bucky adds, smiling with glee.

They made small talk as they rode the train to their destination. People look at Steve differently, he notices right away. It’s not just that he’s with someone like Natasha, it’s that she actually seems like she wants to be there, conversing with him in a way that shows a lot of interest and energy and she’s paying no attention to anyone around them. It’s already one of the strangest dates he’s ever been on -- strange in a  good  way -- though what makes it weirder is the way people look at him when they see the company he keeps. It’s no surprise that Natasha turns heads everywhere she goes, she’s so stunning that Steve expects it. What  is  a surprise is that when the men look at her and then look at him, their expressions change -- and Steve can tell they’re wondering how he scored with someone so beautiful. Women tilt their heads, looking him over speculatively in a way that says  what does she see in him  -- and he does his best not to display any discomfort when he notices them staring.

Natasha carries most of the conversation between them and for that Steve is grateful. He’s in uncharted territory here, unable to completely process what is happening as the evening progresses. He has no idea what to say and figures it’s better to keep quiet, rather than risk saying something completely stupid.  He learns that she works in public relations, on special retainer to Tony Stark, New York’s very own famous billionaire and self-proclaimed genius, playboy, and philanthropist. She does a lot of damage control whenever Tony gets caught by the paparazzi doing something inappropriate for one thing or another. It keeps life interesting, she describes, you never know what he’s going to do next and the amount of money she makes is more than enough to compensate for the headaches he causes on a regular basis.

They talk about a variety of topics as they move through the amusement park. For a Friday night, Coney Island wasn’t too terribly busy, but it was crowded enough that they lost Bucky and Wanda part way through the first hour. Steve’s pretty sure that their friends disappeared on purpose and his suspicions were confirmed by Natasha when she shows him the message on her phone.

Wanda:  Let’s meet up later for dessert! That pastry shop in Bensonhurst around 10pm?  

“I’m 99% sure that we aren’t going to see them for the rest of the night, honestly,” Natasha rolls her eyes as she reads over Wanda’s text. She quickly types out  let’s meet up tomorrow instead xx, before putting her phone back into her purse. “So, I’m feeling a little hungry. Want to get some hot dogs?”

Steve blinks. “You mean, you still want to hang out?”

Natasha gives him an odd look before one of understanding crosses her features. There’s a small smile on her face as she nods. “Well yeah… I mean, we’re already here and I was promised a fun night. Did you want to leave?”

“No!” Steve bursts out. “I don’t- I just-- ” He feels his face begins to heat up as he awkwardly tries to figure out how to explain that this whole evening is an anomaly for him. It isn’t the first time Bucky’s “ditched” him on a double date in the hopes that the date would lead to something more. He’s done it once before and it was such a disaster that Bucky swore he wouldn’t do it again unless he was 100% sure Steve’s date wasn’t going to ditch him as well. The fact that Bucky’s essentially left him with a stranger now spoke volumes. And once again, Steve is struck by the realization that Natasha actually wants to spend time with him. He takes a deep breath. “You said you were hungry?”

The only place to get hot dogs, in Steve’s opinion, is at Nathan’s. Anywhere else and it’s just blasphemy. He pays for their food and drinks, despite Natasha’s protests that she could pay for herself (another first for him, he notices), and he lays out his coat on the sand for them to sit on when they decide to eat near the beach. Natasha sits close enough to him that he can feel her body heat radiating off her. She’s practically pressed up against him.  “So, you’re a tattoo artist,” she says, as she takes a bite of her hot dog. “Forgive me for saying so Steve, but you definitely don’t look like a person that would be tattooing people for a living. How did you get into that as a career?”

He laughs because it’s true, he’s not your typical tattoo artist. People often walk into his shop and do a double-take when they see him sitting behind the counter. He’s not big and burly like some tattoo artists, nor does he look intimidating either. “I kind of accidentally fell into it actually,” he shrugs. “I worked at a coffee shop throughout high school, and was always drawing something during my breaks for my portfolio… the plan was to try and save up money for art school. There was this guy, Drax, he was a regular at the coffee shop and he saw one of my drawings one day and offered me money for the design.”

“What was the original career plan?”

“There wasn’t one really…” he finishes up his hot dog and takes a sip of his lemonade. “Art was the one thing I was good at so the plan was to try and make a go of a career, wherever that took me. I’ve done some illustrations for children’s books and some graphic novels. In my spare time, I draw up some art based on popular tv characters or from movies and then make prints of the art to sell at comic cons. It does pretty well whenever I go to an event. Most of my income comes from tattooing though. It’s a pretty steady gig and it pays the bills.”

“Wow,” Natasha grins. “So how did you go from drawing art, to tattooing people’s skin?”

“Well, after Drax bought my first drawing, he came back two days later and asked to see more drawings and bought them all. He paid me enough money to cover my first year of college! Over time people were requesting more of my drawings to be tattooed and so he brought me on to do commission work. People would email me ideas of what they wanted for their tattoos and once they were satisfied, Drax would come in and tattoo them. He offered me an apprenticeship halfway through my college degree and I thought, why not? I’m still drawing and doing what I love, and I get to meet some interesting people too. And it turns out I have a pretty steady hand when it comes to tattooing people. The rest is kind of history.”

“That’s quite a story, Steve,” Natasha looks thoughtful as she smiles at him. “Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

Heat rushes to his cheeks and he runs a hand through his hair. “Uh…I-” he stammers. “Me either. About you, I mean.”

She tilts her head slightly as she looks at him through her eyelashes. “I like it. You are a surprising person, Steve Rogers.”

Steve has no idea how to read the signals that she’s giving off. She’s looking at him expectantly, like she’s waiting for him to do something and it’s all he can do to try and keep up. She has a wonderfully expressive face, sharp lines and hollow cheeks but plump lips and beautiful green eyes framed by dark lashes -- and long red hair that looks so impossibly soft that it makes him want to run his hands through it.

  Does she want me to kiss her?  

The thought enters his mind as Natasha lifts her chin a fraction of an inch and she shifts even closer. His heart is pounding so loudly in his chest that he’s sure she could hear it from where she is sitting. She has his complete attention now, and he’s unable to look anywhere else but her lips. He thinks she wants him to kiss her but he doesn’t want to presume. Everything about this night is already so unprecedented and he doesn’t want to fuck it up in any way.

“Well, well,” a voice cuts in. “Doesn’t this look all cozy?”

Steve’s pulled out from the spell he’s under and he looks up to see a man and a woman he doesn’t recognize standing a few feet away from where they're sitting. He feels Natasha sit up straighter and she pulls away slightly as she turns to face them. Within seconds, the Natasha he had been interacting with disappears and a new version of her appears. She eyes the people in front of them warily, a polite but distant smile emerges. “Elektra,” she acknowledges, her voice even and void of emotion. Her eyes flit over to the man next to Elektra and if possible, Steve thought her voice became even colder. “Matt.”

“Hi Natasha,” Matt’s voice is low, his body language indicating exactly how awkward he is feeling. “I thought I heard your voice. It’s… uh… nice to see you.” Matt smiles wryly, as he fidgets with his cane and Steve suddenly realizes that the man is  blind. It certainly explains why he was wearing sunglasses at night. “Pun intended, of course.”

Natasha hums, but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she stares up at them and even though she’s sitting, somehow the redhead is more intimidating in her stance than the two people standing. Steve has no idea what’s going on, but it definitely feels as if he’s accidentally stumbled into some kind of awkward situation that he has no privy too. Elektra is watching them with so much interest that it makes him feel more than slightly uncomfortable. “You look  so  happy, Natasha darling,” she coos, though it’s clear that the tone of her voice is more haughty than it is sincere. “How  wonderful.”

He has no idea what makes him do it, but he listens to his gut instinct and shifts so he slides in closer. He wraps an arm around Natasha’s shoulders and smirks, staring right at Elektra and silently challenging her to contradict him. “Thanks,” he says, confidently. His tone implies more than words ever could. “Her happiness is my top priority. If anyone can see it, it means I’m doing my job right.”

Elektra’s eyes narrow but she doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she wraps herself around Matt’s arm, clinging to him as if she has something to prove. Natasha turns, paying them no mind, and gives Steve a warm smile. It’s a smile that tells him she’s grateful, that she’s glad he’s there. “Enjoy your evening,” Natasha dismisses them and leaves them no choice but to shuffle awkwardly away. She lets out a sigh of relief once the couple is out of earshot and slumps into him. “Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to help me save face in front of them, but you did and I really appreciate that.”

He really wants to know what that was all about but felt it was too rude to ask. It isn’t really his business anyway. He gives himself a few seconds to enjoy the way her body is nestled against his before pulling away. It isn’t gentlemanly, he reminds himself. It’s better to let her cuddle up when she truly wants to and not when it was a ruse to fool other people into thinking they were a couple when they actually weren’t.  “Don’t mention it,” he smiles at her as he stands up, holding his hand out to her. “Want to go for a walk? Or we can go play some games, we still have some credits to use up.”

“Sure, let’s go play whack-a-mole.” She peers at him, tilting her head as if she’s trying to figure him out. After a moment, she grasps his hand and pulls herself up, dusting off the sand that’s caught on to the hem of her jeans. She grabs his jacket and then slips her arm through his as they begin to walk away from the beach. “I have the urge to hit something.”

True to her word, they found themselves at the brightly coloured tent minutes later and Steve’s watching as Natasha eagerly uses the toy mallet to hit the plastic moles that appear at random before disappearing back into their holes. Natasha’s efficient as she hammers away, and Steve’s coming to find that when she puts her mind to something, she succeeds. The alarm above the score panel flashes red, indicating that she’s the winner. She turns to him in triumph, a wide grin on her face and the sparkle back in her eyes. “Pick your prize.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t it be me that wins you something?”

“Don’t play into gender roles, Steve,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Pick something!”

He lets out a laugh as he looks up at the brightly coloured stuffed animals hanging from the tent and one immediately catches his eye. “The giraffe, please.”

“Interesting choice,” she looks at him curiously as the attendant hands him his new stuffed toy and they begin to wander off. “Why choose the giraffe and not the lion, or the penguin?”

“Giraffes are my spirit animal.”

“I… had no idea what I was expecting you to say, but that was not it,” she laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Well yeah,” he shrugs. “I mean, who doesn’t love giraffes? They’re one of the world's most majestic creatures. Most people automatically choose animals like lions, or tigers for their power.  Or they go for the cute and cuddly animals, like bunnies and pot-bellied pigs. But giraffes? People tend to miss out when it comes to giraffes.”

“But not you, huh?”

Why in the world is he talking about giraffes? Steve has no idea how their conversation has come to this but here he is, telling her his love for giraffes. All he can do is roll with it.

Perhaps it was the dim lighting from the street lamps all over the park, but Steve thinks that Natasha is looking at him differently from the way all women usually look at him. She looks at him like she finds him cute, like she enjoys their conversation and wants to keep it going. “Well, giraffes tend to stick their necks out and stand tall when they’re trying to reach for leaves, and have the ability to look down from above -- and I think that’s a beautiful personification for life. Like, don’t just be one with the crowd, fight for what you believe in and always try to see the bigger picture.”

He feels her gaze, and knows that she’s listening to his every word. “Something tells me that you fight for what you believe in, don’t you?”

“I mean… yeah? I try? If I see a situation point south, I can’t ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could.”

“Do you ever run away?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You start running, they’ll never let you stop. I grew up smaller than those around me and never really fit in anywhere either. My small size made me an easy target but I always try to give as good as I get. That’s one of the reasons why I like giraffes so much… they’re such gentle creatures but they don’t confuse size with strength. Size doesn’t always guarantee might or ability. Plus, they’re loyal to those who have earned it and they’re weird looking -- like me. So, that’s why I consider them my spirit animal.”

"I don't think you're weird looking," Natasha smiles. “I think I’m going to start seeing giraffes in a whole new light now.”

He has no idea how to react to the words she'd just said, so he keeps quiet, all the while feeling his cheeks burn red hot. They fall into comfortable silence as they walk along the path leading out of the amusement park, away from the crowds and into a quieter street. It’s getting late and the evening is almost over, he realizes regretfully. He doesn’t want it to end. It’s the best first date he’s ever been on and he’d definitely like to see her again if she allows it.

He tries his best to gather the words in his mouth. “So…” he trails off as he slips his hands into his pockets, the giraffe tucked tight underneath his arm. He has no idea how to do this. Usually his dates would make excuses to leave as soon as possible, and the ones that did stay always indicated that they would get in touch but never did.

Natasha waits as he pauses and heaves a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair in obvious anxiety, eyes unable to meet her gaze. He mumbles something beneath his breath, and Natasha blinks, “I’m sorry?” She asks, wanting for him to repeat the words he’d just said.

This time, Steve looks directly into her eyes, and when the words leave his mouth, Natasha’s reaction was not one he was entirely expecting.

“ -- do you want to go out again?” was what Steve said, the second time louder and with much more clarity than before. He gnaws on his lower lip, preparing for some kind of rejection as Natasha’s eyes widen slightly, clearly a little surprised. The next few words stumble out of Steve’s mouth hurriedly before he could even stop himself. “I mean, I completely understand if you don’t want to--”

“Steve,” Natasha interrupts him gently. She smiles softly. “Are you sure that  you  want to go out again?”

When she utters those words, his jaw drops and he just stops and stares at her with aghast, as though what she had just asked was unthinkable. He’s definitely confused now and he shakes his head in disbelief. “What? ”

“All night long, I’ve been trying to figure you out, Steve.” The redhead in front of him shrugs. “You know, when Bucky first suggested this double date I was really hesitant. But your friend said some wonderful things about you and I thought, ‘what the hell, why not... got nothing to lose’ and I found myself feeling kind of excited for the date all week.” She tilts her head slightly, meeting his gaze head on. “I even found your profile on Tinder and swiped right, hoping that we could maybe chat a little bit before the date but we never matched.”

Steve is flummoxed and somewhat speechless as he listens to Natasha speak, baffled at her words. It takes a few seconds for her words to truly sink in and his eyes widen in pure bewilderment. Somehow he finds his voice. “Really? You swiped  right  on my profile?”

“I did,” she nods. “And then tonight… I mean, I asked a lot of questions and you answered them, but you never really asked any questions of your own to get to know me… and you didn’t even question it when Matt and Elektra interrupted us! So I started to think maybe you weren’t really interested in me, that maybe I was wasting your time.”

That sentence is the  last  thing Steve would have ever expected to hear from someone like Natasha. She thought that he  wasn’t  interested in  her? It takes a longer time for the entire exchange to sink in, but when it does, Steve is annoyed with himself. His mind is running through the entire evening that they’d just spent together and he comes to find that she’s right. All of the things he’s learned about her in the last few hours were all things that she volunteered herself. He hadn’t asked her anything to show that he was interested. It’s no wonder she’s questioning his interest in her. He’s flustered as he quickly shakes his head, “Natasha, I’m sorry --”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Natasha waves her hands in the air, cutting off Steve’s attempt to explain himself. “I think I kind of had some stupid expectations of Tinder… I mean, expecting us to match was probably a little presumptuous and that’s on me.”

“I am interested,” he blurts out, holding her gaze. “I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that I wasn’t because it couldn’t be further from the truth. And as for Tinder… well, I don’t really go on the app or have my notifications on anymore.”

She blinks. “You don’t?”

So far his experience of the app has been shit. The only reason he downloaded it was because Bucky had made a comment on his nonexistent love life and  fuck, he let that get to him. But here was this beautiful woman standing in front of him and telling him that she had swiped right for him.  For him. And evidently, had been disappointed to find that they hadn’t matched.

“Well, I never seem to get any matches, so I kinda just stopped trying. I probably should've deleted my profile altogether, but I kinda forgot about it after awhile.” There's a masochistic part of Steve that speaks up. “Do I disappoint you?” He wonders if he does. He wonders if he did before he asked. He’s disappointed plenty before without meaning to.

There’s a bit of a cheeky twist to Natasha’s smile as she laughs slightly and shakes her head. “Well, not so far.” She takes a step closer and he feels his heart rate pick up. In the dim lighting, her eyes look impossibly large as she stares at him. He feels the warmth radiating from her as she leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. She pulls back, smiling softly now as she takes in his expression. “I had a lot of fun today, Steve. And I’d like to go on a real date if you’re up for it.”

“But?” he prompts, realizing that she still had a few things to say.

“Despite what a lot of guys assume, I’m not an easy piece of ass,” Natasha shrugs, waving off his attempts to protest against what she was saying. She looks at him with a wistful expression. “I like it when people put in a little effort… and maybe my way of thinking is a little ridiculous, but  I know  I’m worth the effort.”

Steve is still gaping at her as she turns and hails a cab, leaving him there on the sidewalk. Just before the cab pulls away though, Natasha rolls down the window and gives him a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you think about it, Steve? Look for me on Tinder. Find my profile and swipe right, and then maybe I’ll give you my number.” Her playful grin turns into a soft and hopeful smile. “I’ll take a chance if you will.”

Steve watches the cab drive away, still unable to believe what had just happened. Natasha actually seemed sincere. It felt like she actually wanted him to find her and even though it’s a foreign concept to him right now, he feels  encouraged. It's been years since he’s gotten butterflies and yet that is the only way he can describe how he feels in this very moment.

He thinks about Natasha’s words a lot as he heads home, going over every little detail of the evening in his mind. She wanted him to find her, wanted him to work for it…  I know I’m worth it, she’d said. Though Steve has no doubts that the redhead is worth it, there’s a part of him that can’t help the trepidation he feels anyway. Natasha is amazing and beautiful, and completely out of his league and he knows it. It was infinitely easier when he’d thought this date would be a one and done kind of deal.

And yet. And  yet.

She wants to go out again, he reminds himself. On a real  date. Just the two of them.  Alone.

He pulls his phone towards him and unlocks it, scrolling until his eyes land on the tiny pink icon and taps on it. Dozens of profiles immediately load onto the screen, one after another, and he starts swiping left, looking for one profile in particular. When he downloaded the app in the first place, he hadn’t expected to get very far. Everyone knows that Tinder isn’t the safest way to find love, and Steve is aware of it to and wasn't too hopeful about it -- he just never expected something like this situation to happen.

Forty-five minutes pass and he’s still swiping left, when suddenly he freezes. His thumb, that had been ready to swipe left, halts its motion, and he stares at the photo that’s on his phone. At those eyes that look familiar, green and wide-eyed. At the tilt of her mouth, that Steve is coming to recognize as the start of a warm grin. Even in her pictures, Natasha is dazzling and he can understand why she assumed people would swipe right on her profile. She probably has her pick of men. He can’t imagine anyone swiping left on her.

His heart pounding, his thumb presses to the screen and he swipes right. There’s a moment of panic, the urge to drop his phone… to hide it. He can pretend this never happened and his life could go back to normal. He breathes out shakily, breathes in a bit more evenly. Why is he so nervous? She had said to find her, hadn’t she? It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

And then his screen lights up.

[katedoesfics]

All This Shit is Weird | Chapter 1

“I know dwarves don’t exactly frequent Haven, but this is just humiliating.” Varric swung his legs back and forth under him, then turned his attention back to his drink. “We like to drink just as much as the next guy, yanno.”

Cullen glanced at him at the corner of his eye. “Should I get you a box?”

“Go fuck yourself, Curly.” But he grinned, then picked up his beer.

“Remind me again why you’re here.”

“Cassandra will die before she admits it, but you guys need me more than you realize.”

Cullen took a moment to drink. He wasn’t exactly what one would call a barfly. Truth be told, he never had the time for it. He felt anxious in the dimly lit bar; he should have been doing something. But Varric had a point; there was nothing for him to do. Not until after tomorrow. After the Conclave. “We don’t even know what will happen tomorrow.”

Varric pointed his glass at him. “Exactly.” He paused, drank. “When shit hits the fan - and you know it will - you will need my expertise.”

“And what exactly is that? You’re no soldier.”

“Sure, not by your standards. But I’ve seen a war or two. And I know people.”

“What kind of people?”

“Don’t you worry that pretty blond head of yours.”

Cullen grunted, annoyed with the dwarf, and they had only just met a few hours ago. “I don’t know how you talked me into coming here.” 

“Because clearly you need a fucking drink,” Varric said. “Tightass templar.”

“Not a templar.”

“Once a templar, always a templar.”

Cullen turned and sneered at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, why are you getting all defensive? I thought templars were all proud and shit.”

Cullen turned to stare into his glass. “It’s complicated.”

Varric sighed. “Tragic. How do I always attract tragic people? Everyone’s got a fucking story.” He drank, then brightened. “Hey. Maybe yours will be worth writing.”

“What? No. Write what?”

Varric laughed. “I may be known to thread a tale or two.” He frowned. “I guess you haven’t read my books.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Cullen muttered.

“So, what’s yours?”

“My what?” he snapped.

“Your story. Sister killed by darkspawn? Lover killed in the blight?”

“What’s yours?”

Varric smiled. He straightened and pulled his shoulders back. “Me? Well, I always just seem to be in the right place at the right time.” He drank. “And that’s how I know that this may be a story worth writing about one day.”

The door to the bar opened, bringing with it a rush of cold, winter air that sent a chill up his spine. Cullen looked up at the two women who stepped into the bar, and his gaze met a pair of warm, golden eyes, bright and stark in the dim lighting, contrasted by the dark hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. Pointed ears that marked her as Elven jutted out from her hair, studded with various piercings. Her jeans hugged the natural curves of her body, while her blouse was looser, hanging off her shoulders delicately and exposing a bit of torso. Tattoos marked her arms and shoulders, vivid and bold, but were fainter on her neck and face, in fewer, softer tones, outlining her eyes in elegant swirls. She smiled before turning to the short haired blonde woman at her side, and they disappeared into the crowd.

“That was the first time he ever saw her,” Varric narrated. “The woman that would change his life forever.”

“Shut up,” Cullen hissed at him.

“She’s hot,” Varric said. “Even for an elf.” He laughed. “Now that would be a story.”

“You’re going back to Kirkwall after tomorrow, right?”

“Aw, come on, Curly. Loosen up. That’s why I dragged you down here. Hell, go talk to her. Take her in the back alleyway. Enjoy yourself, and never see her again.”

“No, thank you,” Cullen muttered.

“Aw, are you the romantic type?”

Cullen stood abruptly.

“Alright! Alright! I’m kidding! Sit your tight ass down and drink with me. I won’t say another word.”

Cullen grunted, but sat.

“I’m starting to think Giggles would have been more fun. I thought elves liked to drink? But then again, he is an apostate. Trying to keep a low profile and all. Ha. You must be dying over that, huh? Joining forces with a mage?”

“I’m not thrilled about it.”

“They’re not all so bad, you know.”

“I am aware.”

“One of these days, though, I am getting Cassandra drunk. We’ll see who’s all tough and scary, then! She seems like someone that has a soft interior, though. Like you.”

“Rum and Coke.”

Varric turned to the voice that came from his other side. His gaze met the dark haired woman’s, and he offered her his most flattering smile. “Well, hey there.”

She leaned against the bar as she waited, but turned so her body faced him. “Is that your phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Varric laughed. “I’m supposed to be the one throwing out terrible pick-up lines.”

She smirked and shrugged. “Figured I’d save you the embarrassment.”

“Actually,” Varric started. “My friend here is happy to see you.”

“Varric,” Cullen hissed. 

The woman’s gaze moved past Varric and met Cullen’s. “Your friend doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Maybe I can help him with that.”

Varric frowned. “Is that gonna cost me money?”

She laughed. “Maker, no!”

“Maybe it should,” the blonde woman said, pushing herself through the crowd and sliding up beside her friend. “If you’re gonna keep looking to get laid, you could at least make some money off of it.”

The dark haired woman grinned, then held her hand out. “Calliope.” She gestured to her friend. “This is Jenny.”

Varric shook her hand. “Varric,” he said. “Cullen.”

Calliope met Cullen’s gaze once more and smiled. “A pleasure, gentlemen.” She took a moment to look him up and down, then winked. “I do have a thing for templars.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Varric said. “He wouldn’t know what to do with a beautiful woman.”

The bartender returned briefly with her drink before hurrying off to tend to other patrons. 

“You flatter me, Varric.”

“I only speak the truth, my lady.”

“Ugh,” Jenny said. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” She turned away from them.

Calliope took her drink, then moved to follow her friend, glancing at Varric and Cullen one last time and offering a smile in parting.

Varric turned to Cullen and frowned. “What the hell? I set you up! Where the fuck were you? She was ready! She practically threw herself at you! You had her!”

“I - what?”

“You could be fucking her right now!”

“You’re impossible,” Cullen muttered.

“You need to get laid,” Varric said. “It’s painfully obvious. What’s the harm in a little stress relief?”

“I don’t -”

“I don’t care, you giant baby! You’ll never see her again! Get out of your damn head for one night, will ya?”

Cullen moved his gaze around the bar, but in the dim lighting, he could not pick her out. “I don’t… I wouldn’t… what do I even say?”

Varric shook his head. “Curly, you poor, deprived boy. You work too much. You’re too serious. It’s bad for your health. You need to have fun once in a while.”

“Bad for my health?”

“Just go out there and flirt with her. You can do that, right?”

Cullen hesitated, and Varric sighed.

“She is way out of your league. She’s smart, witty, beautiful. One word out of your mouth and she’ll be running for the door, no matter how much she might want it.”

“Thank you for that confidence boost,” Cullen muttered.

Varric grinned. “You’re considering it?”

Cullen sighed, then quickly finished his drink. He tapped on the counter, signaling for another.

“Alright! Let’s get you laid!”

A second drink was brought over, and Cullen quickly finished it off.

“Don’t over do it,” Varric warned. “We don’t need you sloppy and embarrassing.” He scanned the room for a moment until he finally picked Calliope out. “There. With her friend. Tell ya what. I’ll distract the friend so you can get her alone. Buy her a drink. Talk to her like she’s just another person. You got this.” He turned to the bartender. “Four of those rum and Coke things.”

When the bartender brought the drinks, Varric slid two to Cullen, then took the other two. “Let’s go!”

Cullen begrudgingly took the drinks, then followed Varric into the crowd as he approached the two women. Calliope smiled when she met Varric’s gaze.

“Ladies,” he said in greeting. 

“Couldn’t stay away, I see,” Calliope said.

“We brought drinks.” He offered his to Jenny, and she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t do dwarves,” she said.

“I think I could make you change your mind,” Varric said with a wink.

Jenny laughed sharply. “You’re just trying to get them alone together.”

Varric raised a hand defensively. “You got me.”

Jenny shrugged. She took his drink, then flashed a grin at Calliope. “Bye!”

Calliope frowned, then turned and met Cullen’s gaze. “Is that for me?”

“I guess so.”

Calliope smiled and took it, allowing her fingers to brush against his. They lingered for a moment before she pulled away. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

“Ignore him,” Cullen said. “Ignore everything he has said tonight.”

Calliope gave him a flirtatious smile. “So you do know what to do with a beautiful woman?”

“I - uh - no. Yes. I mean. You’re not - you are, but -”

Calliope laughed. “Man, and I thought you templars were smart.”

“I’m far smarter than I must appear right now,” he muttered.

Calliope smiled over her glass as she drank, meeting his gaze. “I think it’s cute.”

“I guess that’s something.”

“You two are funny,” Calliope said. “How long have you known each other?”

“Oh, about ten hours.”

Calliope’s eyes widened. “What? Really? That’s hilarious.” She paused to drink. “Let me guess; he dragged you out here tonight?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet?”

Cullen hesitated. “A mutual friend introduced us.”

She nodded. 

“Uh. What about you and Jenny?”

“We’ve known each other forever,” she said. “Practically grew up together. Now we’re just out here traveling. Seeing the world. Living life. Are you from around here?”

“Ferelden.”

“Ah. Sure.”

“What about you?”

Calliope smiled devilishly. “Around.” She finished her drink, then grabbed Cullen’s wrist, pulling him to the bar. “Buy me another?”

“That depends,” he said. “Are you going to keep using me for free drinks?”

She smiled. “Alright, fair enough. This one’s on me. It’s the least I can do since you finally made… some kind of a move.”

“Are you expecting me to make a move?”

She met his gaze. “Do you want to make a move?”

“I did not come here looking for a hookup.”

She smiled. “That wasn’t what I asked.” She leaned closer, putting a hand on his chest and whispered in his ear. “If you want to make a move, then make a move.”

A chill ran up Cullen’s spine and his pulse pounded in his ears. 

Calliope leaned away slightly. “Or, I can go rescue my friend and continue on our way. I’m down either way.”

“I guess I’d have to be an idiot to pass up that offer,” Cullen said. 

Calliope shrugged. “Not at all. But for what it’s worth, we’ll never see each other again after this.”

“Alright. To never seeing each other again.” He held his glass up, and she tapped hers against it. She smiled, then grabbed his wrist once more, guiding him through the bar and out a back door. 

*****

Calliope strode down the alleyway, stepping around the corner and down the sidewalk. Jenny was leaning against the far end of the building, a cigarette between two fingers as she moved it to her lips. She glanced at Calliope, then straightened as she approached.

“Anything?”

Calliope shook her head.

“Fuckin’ piss,” Jenny muttered. She flicked the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of her boot. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Calliope said. “We’ll find out everything we need to know at the Conclave tomorrow.”

“I dunno how you do it,” Jenny said. “I wanted to kill myself hanging around that dwarf. How you can flirt around and shit? Where’d ya go, anyway? Don’t tell me you fucked that templar.”

Calliope smiled. “Let’s go,” she said simply, and she strode across the street to the parking lot. She clicked the button on her keys, and the black car beeped twice, unlocking. She slid in behind the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Haven behind them for good. 

[inspirationdivine]

Trouble in Faeradise || Lydia and Deirdre

Timing: Shortly after Lydia and Simon got unstuck

Parties: @deathduty, @inspirationdivine

Summary: Lydia and Deirdre entice a human into a fairy ring. Things happen. As Deirdre puts it, it was not a mushroom vibe. 

Content Warnings: Compulsion (Fairy ring magic), emotional manipulation

Simon was darling and pleasant and very amenable, but if Lydia had had to be stuck to someone for so long, it would have rather been Deirdre. They hadn’t had enough opportunity to spend time together recently - for so many reasons, all of them understandable - but Lydia was desperate to bond more with the banshee. Especially now that Morgan had used the word love. So when she saw the banshee, Lydia gave her a hug in greeting. “Ready for some fun?”

The hug in greeting was a surprise, though one Deirdre prized. Perhaps she was right in thinking Lydia was warming up to her (it was very hard to tell when she still half-expected the other fae to turn around and yell “TRAITOR” at any moment). But there was no greater act of bonding between two fae than grabbing a human and taking them to the nearest fairy ring (Deirdre had spotted one in the woods earlier this week and her first thought about it was to tell Lydia). “As a fae, I think I was born ready for fun...and bones. Which I do consider to be fun.” She glanced around the irregularly busy street, filled with drunks stumbling from one bar to the next to cram their pathetic Friday nights with more excitement. “Speaking of, did you bring your big, white, windowless van or is this one of those tasteful kidnappings?” 

“Deirdre, I swear to god, please do not bring us to some mangled corpse,” Lydia replied, but with a soft nudge and wink that belied the gentle teasing of it all. “Or at least, not this time.” She eyed them too. To the left, three girls sipped seruptitiously at a bottle of water, or at least so they claimed, before joining the queue to a local club. Their skirts curled around their asses, matching in silver sequens. To their right, a man stumbled down a dark alley, whisper yelling his need to urinate to his friends. Lydia’s lip curled a little. “Totally tasteful, my dear. I suspect all we need to do is offer one of these fellows an irresistable night with two beautiful woman and they would follow us right into a dragon’s den. No kiss needed. Although I tend to prefer them high over drunk. Oh! What about that one over there?” Lydia asked, curling her hand around Deirdre’s arm, pointing at a girl with faded blue hair who was flipping off some guy as she texted at her phone.

What were the best humans to torture? Deirdre had often pondered the question. Some could be unsatisfying, like when they prattled on about children and wives and how their sick mother in the hospital was expecting someone to leave her roses. Most fae did not listen, or care, but Deirdre---always watching---was decidedly more observant. Ther fun humans were the drunk ones, too intoxicated to understand what was happening, and more likely to play off their strange fae encounter as some kind of by product of drugs. But then there were different types of drunks, weren’t they? And some were so sad. Deirdre’s eyes surveyed the crowd just as Lydia’s did. “But I love a good mangled corpse,” she pouted, scoping out a target. The men would be easy, and if they were good--which they were--they could snag a few of them for their purposes. Then her eyes fell to the girl. “She looks...angry.” Like she might realize in the middle of getting a mushroom shaved into her hair that she had a lot to live for and needed to follow her passion in creative writing instead of staying in the nursing program she hated. Which was...an outcome of undecided amounts of fun. This was easier in the past, when she cared less about what the lives of these humans looked like. Which was increasingly hard to ignore as she continued to human-watch. “I--you know what? Let’s go with the girl. She looks like she’s having a terrible night and isn’t it our duty to show her some fun?” Of course, fun for them, mushroom mind-control for her. 

“I know you do, but I don’t subject you to the local amatuer open mic nights, do I?”She does look angry. I like a challenge,” Lydia replied. Not that kind of challenge in her long term hunts, which were also in progress as they spoke, but for dancing around naked in the moonlight? Completely so. She waited for Deirdre’s indecision, her eyes flicking around to other options lazily - a man adjusting his crop top as he waited for a date, a woman staring back at them with glowing green eyes. The latter, Lydia thought, was definitely not human, and looked a wholly different kind of fun, but not for tonight. “It is definitely our duty,” Lydia replied with a smile. Arm hooked through Deirdre’s arm, they walked over to the woman side by side over to the woman with the white hair. “I hope those men aren’t giving you a hard time?” Lydia asked, voice as smooth as syrup. 

“You could--” Deirdre leaned in with a smirk, “maybe I’d like some entertainment with my wine next time.” Not that Lydia wasn’t entertaining alone, but as on a serious note, as friends, she assumed they’d share at least a little in each other’s interests. And so, just like that, they approached the girl.  And she, shocked to see two irrefutably attractive women, turned to them abruptly and with wide-eyes. She stopped texting, but her screen remained illuminating her face against the bars and clubs’ neon signs. 

“Yeah…” Emma said hesitantly, as if agreeing with them was a defeat on its own, “look, I don’t wanna be like, a part of your threesome or whatever, okay?” But the stutter around the words meant that, just for the brief second she used to take in their appearance, she had thought about it. She was sharp, and adjusted herself and her body to angle away from them, arms crossed over her chest. “What do you want?”

“We just wanted to help you,” Deirdre started softly, “we know how it can be, alone at night. We just wanted to make sure you were safe.” A pang of guilt rang through her. How safe would she be once they’d lead her into a fairy ring? The girl eyed them suspiciously, she offered no thanks or apologies for her harsh tone. Her body remained closed-off. 

Lydia matched Deirdre’s smirk with a more genuine smile. “Alright. Next time we���ll listen to some talentless hacks perform in the hope of finding some diamond in the rough, and then we’ll go on a walk to find something dead and pretty.” She had been teasing, but now she wasn’t. Not that it mattered for tonight, as they walked over to their evening’s entertainment. A threesome with a human? Lydia had her cringe well, and let Deirdre do the talking, soft and lily sweet. She could imagine it, Lydia thought. Being a human and looking at Deirdre and being entranced. Not aware that your death might be around the corner. But the girl was not impressed, her eyes distrustful. Perhaps she had grown up here, watching her friends disappear and die over time. Perhaps she had heard of magical threats and knew the risks. Perhaps she was merely sensible.

“Do you at least have friends coming to meet you?” Lydia asked softly, after a moments beat.

A deep, long suffering sigh. “No. They bailed, so I guess I’m headed home.”

“It sounds like you don’t want to do that.” Lydia replied, running her finger over her lips idly. “You know, we’re headed to an exclusive party. No creeps invited, very tightly vetted. If you don’t want to head into a club like that by yourself.” Lydia gestured to a queue for one of the clubs nearby. The girl pursed her lips, but she was looking at them more intently now, as if weighing it up. Tempted, even with her arms closed. 

“I’m not doing an orgy either, for the record.” The girl replied.

Was it softness that made her too weak? Did caring about humans force her into the kind of awareness that made it hard to abduct people? Hearing Lydia talk about an ‘exclusive party’ was ingenious, the kind of plan Deirdre should have been thinking about, but couldn’t. Instead she noticed how lost the girl seemed, how she’d perked up at the idea of something exclusive, as if she were special enough to be included, as if she mattered enough. A place where friends wouldn’t leave her. She wondered what her life must have been like to stir these feelings, if she’d ever had a true friend or if they’d just caught her on an off-night. Her deliberations did not show on her face, Deirdre’s soft smile didn’t falter. She was thinking too much about this. This was fae mischief; harmless. It was what fae did. “It’s not an orgy,” Deirdre laughed easily, as if it was some amusing thought. “I mean it could be if---I’m joking! I’m joking.” Deirdre took the moment to recover from her joke to assess the girl. What kind of an exclusive party would they paint this as? Upscale? Intimate? What did she seem more interested in? She watched the girls eyes dart around, observing where she lingered. The groups seemed to catch her eyes. Maybe she didn’t really like clubs, she just went because her friends did, what she really wanted was---”it’s just a small thing, really. Just some friends sitting around a fire, smoking, drinking, talking. It’s just---it’s hard to get to know people when the clubs and bars are so loud, right? And it always seems like everyone just wants something out of you and it’s---I don’t like it. So, an exclusive gathering. You don’t have to waste your night.” The girl’s arms slowly uncrossed. Bingo. She never would have noticed her loneliness if she didn’t have an empathetic eye---she might have stuck with clubbing angle, pitched it as something upscale (the humans did love the idea of fancy). She felt terrible for a moment, and then the girl spoke, and she felt worse. “How do I know I can trust you guys? And, like, if it’s your friends I don’t want to--” she caught her insecurity in her throat, swallowing it down and standing up a little straighter to cover it, “like, you know. It’s whatever, but how do I know this isn’t some weird like sex party thing? ‘Cause I told you, I’m not interested. How can I trust you?” 

Lydia’s gaze didn’t flicker as Deirdre continued describing it, although she was caught off guard. It was a risky proposition, after all. The idea of being outsiders at an insider event was off putting to most people. Something high end with an open bar was usually the safest bet. It was interesting too, to hear Deirdre describe what they were doing, how she crafted her half truths to suit this girl’s need. Yet here, the girl opened up, melting like butter into Deirdre’s words. Lydia gave Deirdre the slightest squeeze. “I promise, we’re not inviting you to take part in a sex party. I take my word very seriously.” 

The girl eyed her suspiciously, because of course it wasn’t enough. Instead, Lydia took a slightly different approach, leaning into one of this identity’s greatest uses. “My name’s Lydia Griffin. You can google me. I am the author of the Eyes to the Sky series. You can find a frankly terrifying amount of information about me in the blink of the eye. What’s your name?”

“You wrote that?” The girl replied, her eyes widening. “I started reading the first one a few weeks ago.” She realised, quickly, that she looked a little too eager, and tried to shutter her excitement as she did just what Lydia asked - googling her to find Lydia’s authorial portrait. “Holy shit. I’m Emma. Not, that, uh. I don’t know if I fit in with that kind of crowd.”

“That’s alright,” Lydia said, “It’s not that kind of party. Everyone is very welcoming and lovely. We’re always looking for new friends.” Emma’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t quite believe it, trying to play it cool. She looked to Deirdre, as if for a final reassurance. 

Deirdre tried her best to hide her shock at hearing Lydia reveal her identity. Now they really had to ensure to bind her into keeping their identities a secret or...did Lydia plan on killing her after? It wouldn’t be unheard of, and at the whim of the mushrooms, who knew which part of them would emerge dominant. But as she watched the girl’s eyes grow wide, a smile finally threatening to pull at her lips, she could see why. And now they had a name. Great. Now she’d know exactly who she was making hold her mushrooms, probably. And then Emma turned to her. Deirdre hid her hesitation well, but her voice dropped into a newfound gentleness. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Deirdre, no fancy job or anything. I actually just met Lydia about a week ago,” she smiled at the other fae warmly to sell her point, “and most of her friends too. Some people there are strangers to me too, but they’ve been so kind and welcoming to me, especially being new in town.” She gestured to her throat, pointing out her accent. “Am I right in guessing you’re interested in literature?” Emma nodded slowly, nearly ashamed to admit it. “Well then, you just have to come. Lydia would love someone whose brain she could pick, right?” She smiled, “and there’ll be a lot of people there with similar interests. I wouldn’t really know, but there’s---uh, other authors, right?” She kept turning to Lydia, as if she needed clarification, reeling Emma in with her feigned hesitation. If one of them was less sure, it made the reluctant Emma more comfortable knowing her fears were shared. And unsurprisingly, she shrugged, biting her cheek to stop a smile. “Okay,” she said finally, “I’ll come.” 

Lydia suppressed the way she bristled at Deirdre’s lie, but the other fae might have just felt the shift of her wings. Not her problem, especially as she watched Deirdre sink the final hooks into Emma, one word at a time. It was almost word perfect too, creating the most perfectly relatable personality. Making herself seem human, even though Lydia knew Deirdre was anything but. She nodded along to Deirdre’s speech, and that in itself twisted Lydia’s belly a little. The moment Emma nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears, Lydia smiled, the ache dissipating. I’ll come, she said, and Lydia turned it into a promise, a thread to pull their prey along by.  “Great,” Lydia said, warm and inviting in tone. “It isn’t far. Walk with us?” She invited Emma, who after another moment rocked off the wall and began to walk with them. Although Deirdre had pitched it as Lydia’s party and Lydia’s crowd, it was Deirdre who had found the fairy ring - Lydia had no idea where it was. Deirdre had to lead them there. 

Emma seemed excited, all hidden the best she could under a stubborn wall. And in the same way, Deirdre felt guilty for what would come, hidden under walls she covered better. She hadn’t expected to feel this poorly about some mischief, but there she was, nearly shaking with reluctance. Was it stronger to swallow this feeling? Or to admit it, end the night, apologize to Lydia and move on? To quell the feeling, she reached out and looped her arm around Emma’s, though the hooks had been set and the promise made, she maintained the act of reeling the woman in--in some way, as an apology for what would come. With her feigned excitement, she led the way for the three of them, out of the well-lit bars, into dimmer streets, then where the forest began. All the while, she made sure to ask Emma questions about herself---superficial at best, lest she dare feel even worse than she already did---and boast about their upcoming party. “It’s just over here, I think?” She led them into the clearing, giddy from the nearby mushrooms, “oh shoot! Did I get us lost again?” She laughed, unable to help herself. The mushrooms were right there. And some part of her, that still maintained any bit of sense, thought it might be good to pretend like they were lost instead of the party not existing. “I swear it was by the mushroom-shaped tree around the mushroom bush into the mushroom?” Deirdre quivered with excitement. Emma looked between the two of them, smiling still from their previous conversation. “Oh, that’s cool, I can just look it up how to get back on my phone and---” As Emma tried to explain, Deirdre reached out and swatted the phone down to the ground, screeching. “Mushro--I mean, spider! Oh, sorry, I thought there was a spider on your phone.” To Lydia, she gestured with her head to the fairy ring, hidden by some long grass. 

Lydia chimed in on the conversation occasionally, with small delicate tidbits or questions to supplement Deirdre’s. The closer they got to the mushrooms, the more Lydia’s inside felt like champagne. Light and fizzy and delicate, sweet and soothing. If she listened carefully, she could already feel that silent, magical music, thrumming through her in complete harmony. Her black dress felt itchy, her boots to encumbering. Lydia wanted to feel mulch and worms beneath her toes, to spread her wings and glow. The moon was just right too. Deirdre smacked the phone out of Emma’s hand, and Lydia made a show of typing something into google on hers before Emma picked her up again. “I’ve got it! Lydia called, holding up her own phone. “This way,” Lydia called, her voice like bells as she pulled Emma deeper into the woods. One, two, three - Lydia nearly moaned as they stepped inside the fairy ring, the magic pure excstacy, “We’re here!”

“I… don’t see a party,” Emma said, looking uncertainly at Deirdre once again, Lydia noticed. And again. Humans were not subtle with their favourites. Lydia laughed.

“Don’t you? Can’t you hear the mushroom music? See all our friends below?” There were gnomes in the circles too, that Lydia pointed to, already kicking off one shoe. “We’re going to have so much fun my dear,” she promised, and smiled against Emma’s cheek, eerily close. ‘Now, my dear, dance for me here.”

Something felt bad in the pit of Deirdre's stomach, like she ate spoiled yogurt. Something about the mushrooms didn't seem right, and with the last of her sense, she opened her mouth to apologize or stop this or��"MUSHROOOOMS!!" she jumped up and down on Emma's phone, cracking the screen before she skipped over to Lydia and joined in the glorious mushroom song. She found the ring with ease, stepping in and feeling all at once the only thing that ever mattered: mushrooms. Here, nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong with mushrooms. "You can't have all the fun without me!" Deirdre laughed giddily, bouncing from one foot to the other. Deirdre kicked her shoes off, peeling off her top with another fluid motion (mushrooms were always better enjoyed in the nude). Emma, on the other hand, was filled with less glee. She moved to dance clunkily, almost as if she didn't want to. "No, No!" Deirdre groaned, grabbing Emma's hands. "You humans dance all bad! Like this!" She demonstrated, pulling her this way or that, light on her feet and expert enough to avoid crushing any gnomes. "These are our friends! Play us some music, Emma!" Emma's eyes grew wide as her lips pursed, she tried to whistle a song, maintaining her pathetic dance routine, but the sound kept cracking as she sobbed silently. "Okay, no more music; your music is sad. You're supposed to be happy! Lydia, why isn't she happy? Is it because she's human?" She turned to her friend, who understood the joy of mushrooms just as she did. 

The first boot off, Lydia quickly kicked it out of the ring, and into the dark. The rhythm thrumed through her, and she laughed at Deirdre, with Deirdre, dancing to the rhythm of the music as she kicked off her next boot. Slide her arms down the length of her body, like she might for a lover, to ruck up her dress and pull it over her head. She giggled, left just in  bra and her underwear as she watched Deirdre pull the human into dance, tried to get her to make the music. “Oh my god, she can’t sing or dance? What kind of fucking human did we pick up. Next time, we’ve gotta pick up a group. Still, I guess we can figure something out.” Emma sobbed, and Lydia smiled as she wiped those ugly tears away. “Don’t cry.” Emma stopped with a strangled gulp, her eyes widening and drying up at once. “Ugh, what a fucking eyesore. C’mon, let’s find you something to do to entertain us. Can you juggle?” Emma shook her head. “Can you try?” A small nod. “Sweet. Here, try with these!” Lydia grinned again, picking up some very conveniently sharp rocks. 

Deirdre tried to pull off her pants, but they were too tight. Why were her pants so tight? And why couldn't she disrobe and dance at the same time? And why did the mushroom music sound like bones being tapped together when there were no bones? Why were there no bones? These questions plagued Deirdre's mind. So she hopped from one foot to the other in her bra and leather pants, insecure about her abundance of clothing. She would have shed the bra if it didn't mean she couldn't wav her arms to the mushroom beat. And then there was Emma, poor, sweet disgustingly human Emma. She tried to juggle, but she was so bad at it. Just like she was bad at dancing and whistling and she was trying so hard not to cry that her face was ugly red and blotchy. She dropped a rock on her foot, wiched and picked it up to juggle again. She dropped it again. Picked it up. Dropped it. Cut her finger on the sharp edge of one of the rocks, spilling blood into their fairy ring. She bit her lip and tried to juggle again. She wanted to cry so badly that she was blubbering now, but her tears wouldn't come. Her cut seemed to grow wider, the rocks were stained with blood as she tossed them around in a mockery of juggling. Deirdre dropped her hands, she didn't like this. The mushrooms didn't like this. "Stop that," she commanded, and Emma dropped her rocks to the floor, causing gnomes to scramble away. She picked up her shirt and wrapped it around Emma's bleeding finger. "Lydia," she whined, "I don't like this human. She makes me feel bad. Like bad on the inside. I can't enjoy the dancing like this! We should have went with the group. Should we get rid of her? I-I'm so sorry, Lydia. I'm so bad at doing things. I'm so sorry. I wanna be good. I try to be good. Why isn't this fun for me? Do I need—maybe I need to be more naked." And now she was crying as she blabbered on. 

Lydia, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing, throwing a leaf or twig at Emma every time she dropped it with an inelegant woop. The blood didn’t bother her, humans bled so very easily, and cried and whined and whimpered so very easily.  They always did at these things, unless you kissed them or drugged them, or were just really, really not very risk aware at all, which was common in humans too. She thrust her hips and swung her arms in a wave like shape, the traditional Leanan summer dance. When she glanced at Deirdre through, her movements slowed, and she stepped over her bra to the banshee in some concern. Her leaves mulched between her toes as she walked over to Deirdre, bandaging the human up and stopping it like that. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Deirdre, we can’t go back for the group now. Is it because she’s sad? They’re freaking always sad, Deirdre, they don’t want to be here. That’s half the fun, they’re prey! Is this because of Morgan? Do you want me to take off your bra to make you feel better?”

"Well, I know that but..." Deirdre trailed off, blinking, waiting for Lydia to understand it. "I wish Morgan was here," she mumbled. Things were better with Morgan; she would explain why she was sad, she would understand. Deirdre wished she was dancing the mushroom tune with her. But she wasn't. She was here with Lydia and sad, un-fun Emma. "I don't want them to be sad! It ruins the mushrooms!" Morgan would get it. Deirdre frowned, looking between Emma and her pleading eyes and Lydia and her steady ones. "You're right. I'm just not naked enough for this. Can you take my bra off? I can't reach it right." And her pants too, but she wasn't going to push her luck and ask for that. She spared one last look at sad Emma. "Smile, Emma! Be happy!" She told her, and Emma's red face sported a wide but thin and unnatural smile. "There! See! All better! The mushrooms are pleased! You're so smart, Lydia." 

All the air rushed out of Lydia. The fairy ring cloud was thick in her mind, but now she wasn’t floating above it in a giddy rush so much as stuck beneath it, wondering where the sun had gone. She looked down at the gnomes, swaying and dancing between their ankles. The odd one looked up and gave them a sharp look, as if telling to get with the program. She smiled, snaking her arms around Deirdre to catch the clasp and unfasten it, pulling the straps down Deirdre’s arms and letting that fall to the ground too. “Yeppers, great. Now she’s all happy, so you can take her home and woo her and fall in love with her and adopt a cat with her.” Lydia turned away, her elytra raising sharply, her skin glowing harsh gold under the moonlight. “All I want to do is celebrate not being stuck to someone anymore and all you want is to be back with your barely non-human girlfriend. In a fairy ring! That kinda sucks, Deirdre! Ugh. Let’s just send her into the woods to be eaten by an alghoul and dance, okay? I said, don’t cry!” That was directed at Emma, who had sniffled around her strangely twisted mouth. 

Nudity had finally been achieved...well, half-achieved, as her stubborn, tight pants remained. But Deirdre could work with this now. And Emma was smiling, and everything was okay if she just didn’t look too hard or think too hard or focus on anything that wasn’t dancing. Everything was the way it should be in a fairy ring! Happy and naked and--- “Lydia?” Deirdre reached out for her friend, a hand hovering above her shoulder--pausing as she regarded the wings. “I don’t wanna do any of that. I wanna dance with you.” But it was hard to dance when Lydia wasn’t looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I won’t talk about Morgan anymore.” Even though, among bones and mushrooms, Morgan was the only thing she really wanted to talk about it. And she couldn’t understand what was wrong. Did Lydia want to adopt a cat with her too? “Let’s dance! Let’s dance!” She reached for her hand, trying to rope her back into some dancing. “You’re so pretty, Lydia. You’re the most beautiful woman---” second to Morgan, and herself, and that mushroom over there and that skeleton she saw a few days ago. “---you have wings! You’re so cool! I look like a stupid human. I look like an Emma!” She gestured to their dumb, useless entertainment meat sack. “I’m sorry I wasn’t dancing. I’m dancing now! Emma, turn around so I can’t look at you.” And Emma did, just as Deirdre tactfully avoided the idea of killing her. Something about that didn’t vibe with the mushrooms, deep inside. “Do you want a cat, Lydia?”

“Hmph!” Lydia replied. “Don’t say things that can be turned into promises you can’t keep. It’s not that you’re even talking about your girlfriend. Its- whatever. Whatever!” Lydia threw her hands up in the air, but turned when Deirdre reached for her hand, into the touch. She didn’t immediately begin to dance, she didn’t want to, not when Deirdre would rather have a zombie in the ring than her, not when she saw the signs of - Lydia swallowed. Nope. Nep. Níl. This was fairy ring magic soaking into her bones, she could let go of such worries. Especially with Deirdre feeding right into her vanity like this, filling her heart with butterflies. “Darling, you never look stupid. I’ve seen your eyes go black and all death predicty, and you’re more beautiful than any of them could ever be.” So why would you date one? Lydia bit the inside of her cheek hard to hold that question back. “No. My pets are already a handful. But you know, I met Beans the other day, he was a real cutie.” She couldn’t help it - the desire to bubble up again was overreaching. Mushrooms broke things down, but brought life too, and it overflowed in her despite the sting she couldn’t repress in the moment. She let Deirdre pull her into dance, squeezing her hand briefly. Lydia spun and turned to Emma, already over the slight from the moment before. “Hey, can you-” No, Deirdre didn’t want that. Lydia rolled her eyes, and turned her attention back to the dance. Waste of a good human. 

“Please don’t make me promise to stop talking about my girlfriend! I like my girlfriend. I like talking about her. She dances really good by the way, and--” Deirdre trailed off, embarrassed. For some reason (Deirdre suspected cat jealousy), Lydia didn’t like hearing about Morgan. Or was it...did Lydia not like Morgan? “Do you have a problem with my girlfriend? ‘Cause you’re being a real H-word right now.” The H-word being human, naturally. “Which means like, you’re confusing me. If you have something to say, you should say it! The mushrooms would want that.” And though this was supposed to be some confessional moment, Deirdre continued her dancing. There was no greater balm for the soul than the mushroom music, after all. “No, you’re really pretty! Like the prettiest! You’re my favorite fae in town. The rest are all so...not cool like you. I love you, and mushrooms, and bones, and pie and---Not you, Emma! I said turn around!” She paused, “we’re doing sooo much talking and not enough dancing, I feel.” Which clearly meant they needed more dancing, and more and more and...what was that? “What?” She giggled her curiosity to Lydia, “what did you want Emma to do?“

“I’m not, obviously, but if you weren’t going to you shouldn’t have said you would!” Lydia retorted. The opportunity to make it a promise would have been as easy as catching a fly in a fridge, but she watched it sail past all the same, until it was much too late to do anything, like any good friend would. The next words out of Deirdre’s mouth made Lydia’s nose flare, her wings flashing brightly and aggressively. “I’M AN H WORD? You’re the one who won’t let me have fun with the human RIGHT here! You’re the one who fell in love with a human! You’re the one who let me find that out from your girlfriend instead of you! We’re standing in a FUCKING FAIRY RING, which are so rare this time of year we probably won’t see another until August, and all you want is to be with your zombie girlfriend! I don’t have a problem with her, I have a problem with you!” Lydia stomped her foot, squelching on some kind of decaying fruit or dead animal remains or probably even human remains in a place like this. She bopped her chest and spun in the music of the mushrooms, and yep, the gnomes were definitely judging them now. “You just told me to say what I feel! I was happy being a fae in a fairy circle, make the human pull out her own hair lock by lock, or dance until she inevitable collapsed of exhaustion and then make her dance more anyway or see whether she can climb a tree without breaking her neck but if you don’t want to see her cry then we won’t freaking do any of that!”

Deirdre crumpled, taking each sentence Lydia flung at her with a wince and a whimper. This was not the mushroom vibe. “I just---” She deflated, curling into herself. “I just wanted to spend time with you, and do something fun. I know you didn’t like people attached to Simon, and I want to get to know you better because you’ve been such a good friend and I just wanna dance naked and--” she sniffled. “It’s weird for me. Humans used to not be people but now they kind of feel like people and I don’t like it and Emma cries really ugly and I don’t want to look at it but I also want to spend time with you and have fun and I want you to have fun and---” she blubbered on, catching a glimpse of the gnomes below, scowling at them the way gnomes did. “Of course I wish Morgan was here, I always wish she was. I like spending time with her. She doesn’t make me feel---” scared, but the word caught in her throat. It wasn’t Lydia’s fault Deirdre was terrified, and she did like spending time with the other fae. But she couldn’t help that something in her had changed, and whatever that was, it was making something about this whole affair very unpleasant. But Lydia’s problem was with her. She was the problem. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like being problems. The desire for approval flared deep within her, and she pulled a knife from her boot and sunk it easily into Emma’s shoulder---garnering a yelp and cry. “We can play with her! I’m sorry. I’ll be good! We can play! Emma, turn around and dance, and don’t say a word unless spoken to.” And Emma, the dutiful entertainment source, did as commanded. 

In normal circumstances, Lydia would have regretted the words the moment the words left her mouth. Normally, she would have never been so extremely honest. Watching Deirdre crumple into herself, shrinking up the way Simon had, made Lydia’s heart ache. Her small hands had curled into fists, hurt and stung by being called the worst thing you could be. People slang words like murderer and evil and manipulative at her from time to time, but no one had ever accused her of being human. No one ever could, not with how she dealt with her diet. “Humans always feel like people. They think like people, too. That doesn’t change what they are, ever.” Her voice was quieter, but still simmering with heat in it. “No shit you like spending time with her, you love her, but this is fae. This belongs to us, no other species! She makes you feel what?” Deirdre bent down as Lydia swivelled her hips in rhythm, her eyes widening when she saw the glint of sharpened metal, reflecting in gold glow. She gasped as Deirdre thrust it into Emma’s shoulder, covering her mouth. A giggle surprised her, followed by another and another, until she was laughing at the sad human’s pain, the grief look of betrayal in Emma’s eyes. Oh, she’d hoped that Deirdre was a nice one. Poor lost Emma. Lydia laughed and took Deirdre’s hands, ignoring the blood, and pulled her into a twisting, spinning dance. Emma didn’t speak, as she… did the Macarena, but the longer she danced, the more her top stuck to her skin and grew shiny as blood trickled out of the wound, worsened by every move of her arm. Her face grew even paler, her movements becoming sluggish. The injured arm dropped to her side, even as Lydia tasked. “Dance faster, girl.”

“But if you think they’re people, how can you---” Deirdre frowned, though she left the topic where it laid. She was too high for this. Too focused on being naked and dancing. She knew the logic well. Humans were inferior, inherently. And they lacked the innocent, simple minds of the animals. And so, they were okay to torture and degrade. Fae were superior, in all regards. But she’d loved a human as her equal, and in doing so, cursed herself with the thought that more humans could be seen that way---even if Morgan was just special. She hadn’t pieced it together completely, and she certainly wasn’t going to try when the mushrooms were singing. “I want to share fae things with her too,” she mumbled, though her words were lost under Lydia’s laughter. That was good, she was laughing. All was forgotten. Deirdre kept her eyes away from the human, laughing along into her spin and dance. Emma struggled, though forced to dance fast, her movements were clunky like a puppet’s strings being haphazardly tossed around. Deirdre couldn’t watch, but didn’t want Lydia to see her remorseful, and so she kept her eyes on the grass under Emma. But these weren’t fae things, she wanted to say, these weren’t the things she wanted to share with Morgan. They were just...cruel. Was this all fae were? The mushroom song seemed to ebb and flow as her mind resisted what was happening around her. For the sake of her sanity, she focused on dancing. Dancing was fun. “Sorry I said you were acting like an H-word, Lydia. I didn’t mean it!” She said, happily enough. “I was just a little sad you weren’t being honest with me. Friends should be honest, right?” Spoken by the liar, as she danced and ignored the pained human. “But we should have fun! Are you having fun now?” Would conversation distract Lydia from torturing Emma? Would it save her pathetic, inherently inferior, human life? 

“I don’t think they’re people. They aren’t.” Lydia replied curtly. Fortunately, all that dissipated with Deirdre in her arms. Even if she was still in those cursed leather jeans which… did make her ass look great, sure, but Lydia was a betting woman. Deirdre’s ass would look great regardless. She spun Deirdre under her arms, shimmying her chest and beating her wings to the beat. Her elytra moved too, an intricate dance only those with beetle like wings could do. God, she was proud of her wings, especially glowing under the moonlight. Unlike Deirdre, she watched Emma keenly, grinning at the absurd obscenity of it all. She wouldn’t have stabbed the girl, far too gross for her liking, but it did add a delightfully macabre element to it, didn’t it? “Friends should be honest, but you weren’t being honest with me, either.” Lydia didn’t point out that she still wasn’t being honest, that Lydia could see how Deirdre turned her head away from Emma, over and over and over. With the mushrooms on her mind, though, Lydia couldn’t bring herself to care, giggling once more as Emma stumbled. And the She fell, clutching her shoulder, her face contorted in fresh waves of pain, but even on the floor, she wriggled like a worm, her body determined to dance even as her strength was failing. “Oh no, I think you broke her.” Lydia said with a laugh.

They were like people, right. Deirdre hid another frown. She had hoped, maybe, that Lydia would see it the way she did. How did she begin to reconcile these things together? And did it matter, in the face of mushrooms? Probably not. And how could they when Lydia looked radiant? “You’re beautiful,” she gasped and then giggled, watching her wings with awe, tinged by envy. She wanted to touch them. She lifted her hand and opened her mouth to ask when Emma fell over. That was bad, right? That was probably bad. But if she went over there, Lydia wouldn’t think she was cool, and that was worse, right? Her morals lost their legs under the mushroom’s influence, she tried to make some part of her stand, but all that was left was the girl who craved to be the kind of fae that Lydia was. But--- “No! She can’t do that! We have to get her to promise not to say anything first!” Deirdre shimmied to her, falling to the floor beside her and groping around for some discarded clothing. She could not remember how medical care worked in her state, but she knew blood was bad. Immobility was bad. “Emma? Stop dancing, Emma.” She couldn’t help while she was writhing. “Listen to the mushrooms, Emma. You need to stay awake to dance and entertain us.” And live, and go home, and pretend like none of this had happened. Deirdre pulled the knife out of her, quickly pressing the discarded shirt to the gushing wound. “What are the promises, Lydia?” She turned to the other fae, “what do we usually make them say? No telling anyone about what happened? No talking about who we are or what we look like? No--D-do we make her forget?” 

Lydia rolled her eyes as Deirdre’s will gave, and she watched her friend rush over to help the writhing, wriggling human. No matter, the mushrooms called and Lydia was more than thrilled to solo with the tiny gnomes. These dances were as old as time itself, which was why she grunted as she jumped from leg to leg, raising each knee to her chest and simultaneously clapping her hands against her other knee. But she stilled with a sigh as Deirdre called to her.  Lydia knelt in the decomposing leaves, her hand cupping Emma’s face. The true terror there wasn’t as fun without another fae to share. “I don’t have the magic to make her forget. Oh well. I’ll do this, you focus on her shoulder. Hey, Emma, pet, you did so well. Would you prefer it if we killed you now, or got you back to town?” Without realising, Lydia had turned to the soft lilting way she spoke to her own humans at some times, gently smoothing down Emma’s blue hair as she smiled at the human. “Darling, I can’t hear you. A little louder, please.”

“T-town.”

“Oh, there we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it. And all we need is three little promises.” Lydia gently wiped the grime off her face, wiping away those nearly dried tears. “Can you do that for me?” A small nod. “I want you to promise that you’ll never tell anyone anything that happened tonight.” 

“I promise.”

“I want you to promise that you’ll never describe Deirdre nor I to anyone in any way, not even via drawing, nor reveal our whereabouts, or indicate anything about us to anyone”

“I-I promise.”

“There. Last one, and this is the hardest. We have complete control of you for the rest of the week if we want it, you know. So what I really want you to do? Is continue as if nothing happened. Go to class, church, book club, whatever it is you usually. Do. Go home like you would after a night in the club, and sleep it off. Do you promise that?” 

Emma groaned in pain, and met Lydia’s eyes for the first time that night. They were an unyielding blue. As impersonal as a statue. “Y-Yes.”

Lydia pat Emma’s hair. “Good girl. Try and stand up, and we’ll walk you back. Right, Deirdre?”

How was Lydia so collected right now? The more Deirdre looked at Emma, the more her head started to swirl into a mushroom. Her foot began to tap a rhythm nervously as Lydia went on. She couldn’t focus, she didn’t want to focus. She wanted to be home, where things were gentle. “You don’t have to---” she croaked, though her sentence did not end. If only she had more sense, she could focus on getting the promises out so Lydia wouldn’t have to. She wanted to have fun, this wasn’t fun. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her apology directed at both women. “No!” She stood up abruptly, “no, we have to dance! I’m going to make this fun for you! She can walk back, and if she dies on the way, who cares, right? I wanna dance with you. I wanna have fun with you. You’re my friend. She’s not. I don’t want to walk her anywhere!” She pouted, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “It’s dance time! That’s what the mushrooms want.”

It was a relief to hear Deirdre’s protest, that the night wasn’t completely lost. That they wouldn’t have to leave these fine pastures for Deirdre’s bleeding heart. Lydia stood, and so did Emma, clutching at her shoulder. “You heard her, it’s that way, roughly. Don’t follow any dancing light and it you hear something growl, run. Have fun.” Lydia replied with a sharp smile. Emma stared at Deirdre, her lip wobbling. “Now.” As if dragged on a lead, Emma turned and walked away. No, as Lydia watched her, walking was far too generous a word. She stumbled and yelled as she tripped on a branch here, but staggered back up, swaying as she moved forward. Lydia grew bored quickly of watching. Despite all her moods this evening, one was universal. Lydia turned back to Deirdre with a broad smile. “C’mon. It’s time to get you out of those leather pants.”

[swtorpadawan]

Breaking Even

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.”

Captain Errul Marsh grumbled under his breath as his light freighter, the Devil’s Horn, finally broke orbit from the infamous Smuggler’s Moon. The Zabrak merchant captain – which, sure, made him a smuggler if you wanted to be crude about it – pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. It was getting harder and harder to make even a (moderately) honest living in his line of work, especially where it concerned the Hutts.

But that was the galaxy for you. With war brewing between the Republic and the Empire everyone was quickly picking sides and carving out their territory. The true independents were getting squeezed out or just dying off.

Errul might have done business with the Republic. He might even have appreciated the Republic when they weren’t trying to arrest him over one of their silly ‘law’ things.

But Errul Marsh was, above all, a true independent. He owned his own freighter outright and incredibly he was debt free, even if he was just keeping his head just above water. He’d die with his ship before he gave any of that up.

It was an existence that had its price. He hadn’t seen or even heard from a family member in decades. Friends (the kind who hadn’t tried to stab him in the back, anyway) had been few and far between. Crew and companions aboard his ship had proved fleeting, signing on with him and staying for a time but each eventually leaving when they finally found something better for themselves. Lovers, likewise, came and went. Usually amicably and with no hard feelings, but sometimes only when they realized that the ace smuggler would never be tied down to anything, not even by love.  

He didn’t begrudge any of them – family, friends, lovers, all – anything. Everyone in the galaxy was chasing after something and they were welcome to chase it. Many of his old associates – the ones he’d stayed in touch with, anyway – had done well for themselves. Two of his erstwhile proteges were now captaining their own cargo ships. Others were running cantinas or small shipping companies. One had ultimately made a name for herself as a Mandalorian bounty hunter, of all things. Indeed, there were worse legacies a man could leave behind.

Still, as the Zabrak had inevitably advanced deeper into middle age, he recognized that his had become mostly a solitary existence. And he was comfortable with that, but still, every now and then…

Ah, well. Life was too short for regrets.

Regardless, loner or not, he still had to make a living. Paying off those Cartel ‘customs agents’ at the spaceport had cut deeply into his profits on this trip. In fact, after his projected expenses for docking at Carrick Station, what with refueling and the Republic’s precious ‘docking fees’ for non-Republic personnel, he’d barely break even after delivering his cargo of adrenals.

Errul exhaled again. He wasn’t that old for a Zabrak, but he was for an independent smuggler. This life would be the death of him.

Force help him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The ship wouldn’t be ready to jump to hyperspace for about half an hour, and it wouldn’t reach Carrick for a couple of days yet. Still, there was no reason to prolong anything that needed doing.

Errul rose from his seat, feeling his back ache in protest. He’d been in hundreds (thousands?) of firefights throughout his life, and he could still beat any young up-and-comers on the draw if it came down to it. But the price being paid by his aging body didn’t make it any easier.

Silently telling his back to stow it, the old smuggler made his way to the cargo hold. The room was stocked with pallets full of stim-packs and combat adrenals, and his ‘arrangement’ with the Republic meant that this shipment was bound for their military. With fighting breaking out in so many theaters, the ‘Pubs couldn’t be too choosy these days about from whom they received their supplies.  

Errul surveyed the stacks. It was all in order. The Cartel agents had threatened to delay his departure as they ‘processed’ the outgoing cargo and verified the contents. Errul knew that game, and knew how to haggle them down on the inevitable bribe he offered them. The delay would have cost him with the Republic, and he certainly couldn’t let those agents spend too much time in his cargo hold, anyway.

“Barely breaking even.” The Zabrak sighed again as he stomped his foot three times on the floor panel to the right between the pallets.

“You can come out now.” Errul called out to the empty room. “It’s safe.”

It took several seconds, but finally, tentatively, the floor panel slid open, revealing the secret smuggling compartment he had installed years before.

Huddled within, looking up at him with a frightened expression, was a young Twi’lek woman.

She’s still rattled. He reminded himself. He’d have to play this carefully. Very slowly, making no sudden movements, he reached down, offering her his hand.

“It’s safe.” He repeated softly. “Nar Shaddaa is already behind us.”

The woman – the girl he should say – slowly reached up and took his hand. He helped her out of the hold, and she looked around anxiously.

Errul regarded her with care. Looking at her now in the normal lighting of his ship’s cargo hold, she was clearly even younger than he’d originally thought, having met her in the darkened chambers of Donje the Hutt’s extravagant sanctum. She was still wearing the yellow jumpsuit he had given her earlier – it was at least two sizes too large for her, but it had been all he had lying around that she could wear. It was certainly more appropriate than the skimpy ‘slave girl’ outfit she was still wearing beneath it that left nothing to the imagination. (There was no way he was going to have her running around his ship dressed like that, thank you very much.) Her face and lekku were adorned with elaborate markings which Errul judged to be natural Twi’lek birthmarks and not artificial tattoos. She was quite beautiful, with a painfully feminine figure and lovely blue eyes almost matching the shade of her skin. But then, physical attractiveness tended to be a much sought-after trait of Twi’leks working for Hutts.  

Certainly, with the female Twi’leks. Errul reflected somberly. Rescuing her from that disgusting Hutt on Nar Shaddaa, ferreting her to the spaceport undetected and smuggling her off-world had pressed even his considerable talents. He didn’t doubt for one moment that both of their lives would get very complicated if the Hutt ever found out what he’d done.

“Donje cannot reach me?” she swallowed, finally looking up at Errul, hopefully. Her hands had slid from Errul’s hand to his arm.

The Zabrak shook his head for emphasis.

“No, that giant slug can’t reach you here. In a while, we’ll be in hyperspace. After that, you’ll be out of Hutt space entirely, and you’ll be as free as a bird.”

The girl blinked up at him with her blue eyes, still gripping his arm for comfort.

“I…. thank you, master.”

Errul shook his head vigorously again. He had to put the kibosh on that idea right away.  

“I’m not your master, kid.” He insisted. “Call me ‘Captain’. Or Errul, if you like. You don’t have a master anymore.” Errul tried to give her a comforting look. “That’s what being ‘free’ means.”

The smuggler let that sit with her for a moment. He figured she’d probably been born into slavery… or maybe she’d been taken so young that she didn’t remember anything else. The Twi’lek looked down at the floor, and for a moment, Errul was worried he’d lost her entirely. But after a long moment, she looked back up at him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Free.” She whispered, like it was all a dream to her.

Errul grinned. “Free.” He repeated, for emphasis. The Zabrak tilted his head. “What’s your name, kid?”

The Twi’lek swallowed, nervously. Probably she’d been forbidden to use her real name in public. Forced renaming was a common enough practice among Hutt pleasure slaves.

“Rhi’kih.”

Errul then gave her his most charming smile. It was a look that had melted the hearts of hundreds of women over the years. (And, Errul reflected, a handful of men, as well.)

“Are you hungry, Rhi’kih?”

“I…” the Twi’lek looked up at him, uncertain, as she regarded his expression. Finally, her features softened and she swallowed again.

“Yes, I am.”

********************************** 

The galley wasn’t much to look at. To be honest, with the Devil’s Horn having only one permanent resident who wasn’t a droid – that being Errul himself – it didn’t really need to be anything special.

Yet another benefit of bachelorhood. Errul reflected. Unlike some of his contemporaries, he disliked over-decoration, preferring the utilitarian to any ostentatious aesthetic.

Nevertheless, he had always tried to keep it fairly well-stocked and in good order for when he did have company, and with the help of his Seetoo droid, it was kept clean as well. At this moment, there were exactly two frozen bantha steaks left, and Errul decided now was as good a time as any to break them out of the freezer and grill them up.

The girl - Rhi’kih, he had to remember – had sat down at the small table only at Errul’s prodding. She was still very skittish, taking everything in with trepidation. He couldn’t blame her, given where she’d been living.

Finally finished preparing the food, he served the steaks up on a pair of plates, along with glasses of blue milk for each of them.

“Here. Eat up.” Errul smiled, taking his own seat after distributing utensils.

The Zabrak took up his knife and fork and then tasted the succulent meat, closing his eyes in pleasure. Out of all the skills he’d picked up over the years, learning how to cook – properly, and not like the  bachelor he was – easily ranked in the top three in having improved his personal quality of life, going along with how to pilot a ship and how to talk your way out of a tight spot.

(Shooting a blaster? Oh, don’t be silly. He was born knowing how to do that.)

Opening his eyes again, he noticed that Rhi’kih was merely poking the steak with her fork, clearly troubled over something.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Its not undercooked for you, is it?”

“Uhm. No.” She looked down embarrassed. “My… my master never let me use knives. No one taught me.”

Errul cringed inwardly. There were a hundred plus one evils resulting from slavery. One of the most underrated was the lack of basic life skills many oppressed people suffered from even after finding their freedom. It could keep them on the fringes of society forever, and perhaps, more likely to end up in the desperate circumstances that had seen them become slaves in the first place. Neither the Republic government nor anyone else seemed equipped to help them acclimate.

“Here.” Errul got up and came around the table. Very gently, he took her by the wrist and helped her grasp the knife. She let him, having apparently grown comfortable with him by now.

“Hold it like this. Good. Now the fork like that – yes. Good. Now cut…. Perfect.”

It took about a minute. But Errul was finally satisfied the Twi’lek had learned how to cut her own food adequately.

“It’ll get more natural with time. Trust me.” He reassured her, observing her progress as he took his seat back.

Rhi’khi finally tasted her steak. Her eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but think of it as a sign of life.

“Good?” he asked with a grin.

“I…. yes!” she gasped.

Errul was rewarded with a lovely smile from the Twi’lek. It was the first time he’d seen her smile genuinely since meeting her. He’d seen the conditions under which slaves were kept on Nar Shaddaa, and what sustenance they were given. Occasionally, pleasure slaves like Rhi’khi would be fed rich food or wine from the plates and goblets of their masters, almost as if they were pets. The rest of the time they tended to be served an unappetizing gruel back in their pens. Neither option was particularly healthy in Errul’s estimation.

A reasonable nutritional diet – including bantha steaks – was another thing she’d have to adjust to.

As it turned out, Rhi’khi was famished. Her table manners needed some work, but she ate her bantha steak and drank her blue milk with gusto. Errul took it as a positive sign; she’d have to learn to pace herself, but that could come later.

Errul was almost done with his steak when he glanced up, realizing that the girl was eyeing him tentatively as if chewing something over.

He put aside his utensils.

“What is it now?” he asked.

The Twi’lek swallowed, then reached out, laying her hand on his.

“I owe you everything for freeing me… Captain.” Rhi’khi smiled up at him, coyly. It was the same smile she’d worn while dancing for Donje’s visitors back on Nar Shaddaa. Noting her brief pause, Errul suspected that she had had to stop herself from calling him ‘master’ again. “I am… very grateful.” Her fingers gently entangled themselves with his, her thumb brushing against his palm.

Errul felt a sudden but familiar warmth in his belly and down to his loins. This beautiful young woman – with her lovely figure, pretty blue eyes and coy smile – was offering him comfort. Even at Errul’s age, the urges still came, and he certainly couldn’t deny the Twi’lek’s sex appeal.

It was the Zabrak’s turn to swallow, as he looked up into Rhi’khi’s eyes.  

Errul Marsh prided himself on his ability to read people. During negotiations. During games at the Pazzak table. During a tense stand-off with guns drawn. And the fact that he was still alive after all this time was a sign that he was good at it. It had always been a talent, but he’d refined it over the years with invaluable experience.

So it was that he noticed things. In particular, the slight tension around the girl’s otherwise enticing eyes.  

No.

This was not a young woman who was genuinely smitten or enchanted by him. (Galaxy knows Errul knew what that looked like, even if it had been awhile.) No. This was a girl who was, even now, still worried that he would sell her off to the next gangster he ran into or that he’d otherwise abandon her to some unknown fate the moment she became inconvenient.

In her mind, this was about taking control of the situation in the only way she knew how. Rhi’khi was desperately trying to offer him something to ensure he would protect and look after her, this was only coin she could possibly offer him. It bothered him that she’d been conditioned to think that her sex appeal was all she could ever offer to the galaxy. Errul added that to the growing list of consequences of her enslavement. The fear of going back to Nar Shaddaa or the fear of the unknown would lead her to continue living the life she had been living, even after she had just risked everything to escape that very life.  

After all, it was all she knew.

That wasn’t what bothered him the most, though.

No, what bothered him the most was knowing – knowing – that not so many years ago, Errul would have taken her up on the offer in a heartbeat. By now, his lips would have been on hers, she’d have been propped up on the table and soon the clothes would have gone flying. (And few of Errul’s lovers had ever complained about his skills in the bedchamber.) Oh, he’d have shown her a great time; he’d have taken her on a trade run or two to some exotic planets and shown her sights few beings could even imagine. Beautiful beaches, majestic mountains, cities that were clean and comfortable in stark contrast to the filth and grit she’d seen on Nar Shaddaa.

He’d have let it last a week. Or maybe – maybe – as long as a month. (He’d only gone as long as a month with a woman a couple of times. It was better that way.) Certainly no longer than that. Then he’d have found something for the young Twi’lek, letting her down gently and making sure she had something to get her started on the rest of her life.  

After all, he’d have thought to himself, what she was offering him had been offered freely and was therefore his to take.

That was one of the lies people told themselves. But with age had come wisdom, and Errul liked to think he had given up lying to himself a long time ago.  

“How old are you, kid?”

The words came from his lips abruptly. Rhi’khi looked confused for a moment, then worried, as if she thought she had done something wrong, and might be punished for it. She withdrew her hand.

“I…. nineteen, I think.” She said with uncertainty.

Nineteen. Shavit. He was more than twenty years her senior. Force. He’d lived too blasted long.

“Hold on a second, okay?” he offered.

Errul rose from his seat and walked to the far corner of the galley, right next to the washer. He opened the small cabinet above, being careful to block Rhi’khi’s vision of what he was doing. (He didn’t have any reason to distrust the Twi’lek, but he hadn’t survived this long by being careless.) He removed the panel at the back of the cabinet, revealing a hidden biometric safe box. The Zabrak pressed his hand to bio-scanner, then entered a code into the keypad. The safe popped open.  

There were a number of trinkets located within, some appearing to be mundane while others would have caught the eye of any professional treasure hunter. Errul ignored the rest and took the one object he had sought. Then he closed the safe, putting the fake panel back in place.    

Errul turned back to Rhi’khi, setting the item down on the table. It was a small metallic cube, with ornate engravings etched on all six sides.

“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you. Promise.” He gave her a soft smile. “Go ahead and touch it.”

Rhi’khi tentatively reached out and lightly brushed the foreign object with her fingertips.

After about a second, the cube suddenly lit up with the engravings emanating a blue light. A small holoprojection then materialized above it, revealing a Cathar woman wearing long robes.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The projection spoke in an accent that was provincial, but the voice was clear and nevertheless confident. “And these are my teachings.”

Rhi’khi cried out in alarm, withdrawing her hand from the cube. All on its own, the object went flying off the table and through the air, ricocheting off the ship’s bulkhead before coming to a rest on the floor. The Twi’lek, plainly rattled, pulled her knees up to her chest, staring down at it in fear.

Errul just chuckled nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that. I had to be sure, and this saved me a lot of time.” The smuggler reached down and picked up the cube, setting it back on the table. It was undamaged from Rhi’khi’s inadvertent outburst, which he took a relief in. Errul knew it was nearly three hundred years old. “Like I said, this won’t harm you.” He regarded her with a satisfied expression, having been proven right. “I figured as much about you, when I saw you talk that Gamorrean out of ‘enjoying’ the company of your Nautolan friend back at Donje’s club.”

“What… what was that?” Rhi’khi asked nervously, still staring at the cube.

“This? This is a Jedi Holocron.” Errul tapped it, nonchalantly. “I’ve been hanging onto it for a while, mostly for occasions like this.”      

The Twi’lek swallowed, starting to regain her composure.

“I don’t understand.”

“Hmmm.” Errul regarded her, debating how to continue. “Have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“I… yes.” Rhi’khi stammered. “My master… Donje, I mean… sometimes ranted about them. He called them ‘meddlesome Republic fools’. And he said that they fought the Sith.” She paused. “I think he was a little frightened of them.”

The Zabrak just nodded.

“Not without cause. Jedi and Hutts don’t really see eye to eye on much.” Errul sat down across from her, stretching his arms. “Jedi are… well, peace-keepers, you might say. When things are going alright for the Republic, they’re like diplomats. They go around resolving conflicts and helping to uphold the law. They’re pretty… noble, I guess. They’ve helped a lot of people when no one else could. Not as many as you’d hope, but a lot.” He chewed that over. “Of course, these days, they’ve been at war with the Sith Empire, even when they’ve had that sham of a peace treaty. So it’s been tough going these last few decades. They’ve got a lot of rules they have to follow, and they can be very pretentious. These days, they have to defend the citizens of the galaxy, uphold their own lofty principles and beat the Sith all at the same time. No one is going to succeed at that. But to their credit, they keep trying.”

“Having said that…” he continued. “I can honestly say that they do the best they can in a crazy galaxy.” Errul paused at a bygone memory, his voice taking a more conciliatory tone, then looked the Twi’lek directly in the eye.

“You’re Force-sensitive, kid.”

Rhi’khi just blinked.  

“The… Force?” she asked in confusion.

“Yeah.” The old smuggler settled into his seat. “It’s like this… invisible energy field created by all living things. It binds the galaxy together, or so the Jedi say. And some special people – like the Jedi and the Sith – can manipulate it; it gives them power.”

“You have that power. You’ve been able to talk people out of doing things before, haven’t you? Maybe not Donje or other Hutts, but others, right?”

Rhi’khi nodded nervously.

“Right. Basically, Rhi’khi, it means you have the chance to become a Jedi.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Or a Sith.” He added dourly. “If you like, I can introduce you to someone on Carrick Station, and, if you decide it’s what you want, they’ll test you to confirm what I just told you. The Jedi usually recruit kids young, but they’re less discerning these days. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m confident they’ll take you in and teach you how to become a Jedi.”   

Errul paused here for effect.

“But I won’t do that if that’s not what you want.”

The Twi’lek stared down at the table.

“I don’t know what I want.” She whispered quietly.

The Zabrak nodded. No surprise, there. Rhi’khi had probably never been given the chance to think about what she wanted.

“Well, I think you’re in shock, kiddo. A lot of stuff is happening to you very quickly. I wish things were different, but here we are.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting look. “Not everybody can quite get over the things life throws at them. And you’ve had way more thrown at you in the last few hours than a lot of people will experience in a lifetime.”

“But… if you can let go of it – what with growing up a slave, everything that’s happened to you, everything that was done to you – then maybe, just maybe, this is for you. And maybe, maybe, maybe someday you can help some other little girl from having to grow the way you did.”

The Zabrak considered what he had said. She deserved the truth. All of it.

“No promises, though.” He added firmly. “Even at their best, before the Empire came back, the Jedi couldn’t stop the Hutts from trading in slaves entirely. The best they could claim to accomplish was keeping the slugs in check. And like I’ve said, the Jedi aren’t at their strongest right now. It’s a dangerous life, what with the Empire hanging around.”

Rhi’khi seemed to chew that over for a long moment. Despite his reputation for being a fast-talker, Errul was actually quite comfortable with long silences, and gave her all the time she needed.

“What if I can’t do that?” she finally whispered.

He understood. Rhi’khi might seem meek and innocent at the moment, but Errul couldn’t imagine anyone going through her life without building up a sense of indignation, and scars on her soul that ran deep. If she were aware of that, then she was wiser than she let on.

“If the anger and resentment are too much, well, odds are you’ll become a slave again. Except not a slave to another Hutt, but a slave to your own anger. And to your past. I’ve seen it happen with others who’ve been through the kinds of things you have, even the ones who weren’t Force sensitive. They just… can’t be free of it. They can’t be free of what they’ve gone through. Even with otherwise good people, it eats away at them, over time, and it never ends well.”

The Zabrak looked away, not wanting the Twi’lek to see the look on his face just now. He was speaking from experience, but that experience wasn’t something he was ready to share.

“And then a lot of them wind up doing to others what was done to them.” Errul continued, speaking from experience. “They all have justifications, of course. Little lies they tell themselves. ‘Oh, the galaxy owes me this’ or ‘these people deserve what I’m doing to them because their ancestors killed my ancestors’. It’s all a load of druk.”

“People hurt other people because they can’t let go.”

Trusting himself now, Errul took a breath and turned back at Rhi’khi, giving her a hard look in the eye. She was still watching him closely.

“The ones who do that who are Force-sensitive? We call those Sith.”

The girl shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself.

His expression softened at the sight. He’d given her the ice bucket of water to the face. The least he could do was offer her a towel.

“But… if neither of those choices appeal to you, the guy who runs the cantina on Carrick Station owes me a favor. He’s a tough boss, and the pay isn’t that much, but he treats his waitresses right. He doesn’t put up with any flyboys like me messing with them, y’know? I could set you up. You could work for him for a while, just serving drinks and finding your feet, until you found something better.”

“As for this ‘Force’ business… well, maybe it will let you just live your life.“

“I promise I’m not going to make you choose anything. I’m just telling you what I can do to help you, since you look like you need it.”

Rhi’khi was looking up at him again. She probably didn’t completely understand everything he had said, but she seemed comforted by his words nonetheless. Maybe she liked having a third option, or maybe she just liked listening to his voice. That didn’t really matter right now.

“Well. I’ve just dropped a barrel of Hutt manure on you, kid. I’m sorry to do it like this, but I find it’s for the best in the long run.”

Errul polished off the last of his blue milk, then cleared the table. He put everything away in the washer, set the machine to run, then turned to her again.

“I don’t pretend to know what’s best for you. But I’ll give you as much time as I can to think all this over.”

He moved to stand, only for Rhi’khi to reach for his hand again.

“Captain, wait.” She suddenly interrupted.

Errul noted she didn’t need to stop and start again to remember to call him ‘Captain’ and not ‘Master’. He smiled at her progress and stopped, sitting back down.

“How… how do you know all of this?” she asked. “If you are just a ship captain, how do you know about the Force, and me, and… why do you have this?” she looked at the holocron again.

The Zabrak slowly grinned. She was a sharp one. Most people struggled to use their intelligence in tight spots; when you’re threatened and focused on simple survival, it was hard to think things through. He’d seen enough of that in the refugee camps growing up. But if you offer folks just a little security and comfort, a little breathing room, sometimes they could surprise you with what they could come up. Rhi’khi may have been under-educated and naïve, but he was suddenly confidant that whatever path she took, she’d figure things out, in time.

“Well, let’s just say that once upon a time, a Jedi helped me out of a jam.” He answered wistfully. “They took the time to tell me about a couple of things. As for why I have the holocron… well, it just sort of fell into my lap during a little misadventure on Dantooine this one time, years ago. It’s no good to me personally; I’m not Force-sensitive. But it’ll make a useful bargaining chip if I’m ever in a tight spot… or for confirming cases like yours.”

The Twi’lek took that in and released his hand, thinking.

A chime sounded throughout the ship, and Errul cocked his head.

“I’ve gotta get that. We’re ready to jump into hyperspace.”

With that, Errul stood up. Rhi’khi turned and stared down at the holocron, lost in thought. The Zabrak made for the door and then stopped, turning just enough to speak to her over his shoulder.

“Just remember: Whatever you choose, that’s your choice, and yours alone. That’s the hardest lesson of freedom. What’s happened to you up until now was someone else’s doing. What you do after this is yours.”

As Errul stepped out of the galley and prepared to head back to the cockpit, he hung back for a second out of view around the corner, watching the young Twi’lek mull over her future. He certainly didn’t envy her the choice before her, but he needed to make sure she was okay to be alone right now.

Slowly, tentatively, Rhi’kih reached for the holocron. As she touched it, the little holo-image – the ‘Gatekeeper’ – once again materialized.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The Jedi started again. “And these are my teachings…”

Errul observed as Rhi’khi watched the projection, a look of fascination coming across her features. As she listened to the words of the long-dead Jedi, she seemed to Errul to become more relaxed, a small smile coming to her lips. A natural, organic smile – not the coy put-on she’d shown him earlier.

The Zabrak turned away. He didn’t pretend to know his own destiny any more than he knew Rhi’khi’s, but maybe both of them were about to take the next step on their respective paths.

Errul sighed again as he sat down in the chair of his cockpit, finally pulling the lever and triggering the jump into hyperspace. The stars outside the cockpit canopy shifted as the Horn made it’s jump, as the galaxy seemed to bend around the trusty old freighter. It was a welcome sight. No matter how many times he saw it, it always relaxed him.

This had already been too much philosophy for him in one day. He decided to blame it all on that Reactor Core he’d had at the cantina before he left Nar Shaddaa. That Rodian bartender was a good listener, but he always put too much spice liquor in his concoctions, and no doubt that was making Errul sentimental. It made him reflect back on what he’d thought to himself earlier.

If it wasn’t ‘this life’ that would be the death of him someday, then it would be sentimentality. He didn’t doubt it for one minute.

He thought back to Rhi’kih listening to that holocron in the galley.

“Yeah, barely breaking even.” He whispered with a smile. He shook his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.” He grumbled.

  END

**************************************** 

Author’s Notes: I’ve never written about Errul before, but he’s my oldest ‘active’ O.C., as I developed him way back when I was on Free-to-Play. I eventually abandoned his game play, as in my mind, I don’t see him as an ‘Outlander’ type figure. But I keep him around. I saw some talk on Tumblr complaining about the player’s tendency to make our O.C.s on the young side. Errul, in my head-canon anyway, is a smuggler on the wrong side of forty.

People do change. They learn and they grow and they don’t stop doing that the moment they turn into an ‘adult’. (Which is totally a made-up word anyway.) True, the changes aren’t always for the better, but they do come. How you feel about things twenty years from now may be very different than how you feel about things now. That doesn’t make your opinions any less valid; it just means that they don’t define who you are.  

Juhani is here just because I like Easter Eggs.

The character of Rhi’khi is inspired by a Twi’lek slave in Nar Shaddaa who was planning to escape with a smuggler in a bit of ambient dialogue within the actual game.

I remember reading an article about people who defected from North Korea, and the immense challenges they faced adapting to the modern world. Even given assistance by South Korea and other countries, most of them have no practical job skills and an education that was incomplete to say the least. It was very sobering.  

Oh – and spoilers – Rhi’khi ‘grows up’ to be the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order in this iteration. The first lesson there is you never know what the person you help might go on to do. The second lesson is don’t worry if you feel you’re getting a late start on pursuing your life goals. Honestly, it is not a race. It never was.

Good luck, and may the Force be with you.

[lilywoood]

Buddie prompt 22

Here it is noni hope you’ll like it also tagging @diazbuckleysworld​ @felicitous-one​ @translucent-bisexual​ @cherishingstydia​

Words count : 1518

Song : The Bones - Hozier & Maren Morris

Buck hated Monday, he really despised that day, like any normal person you’ll say, but his hatred for that particular day wasn’t because Monday rhymed with back to work, party is over, end of the week-end, no the reason why Buck hated Mondays was the people…

 People tended to get more drunk on Monday, more than on the week-ends contrary to popular belief, and it wasn’t the nice type of drunk either, usually the people who got drunk at the start of the week, were the grumpy business men, Buck hated them, cause they were bossy, never tipped and expected him to be there to refile their glass indefinitely, they were the kind of customer ready to use violence if they were denied something, or their keys were confiscated…

So yes Evan Buckley hated Mondays, he hated them so much he was pretty persuaded that nothing or no-one could ever change that.

 --

It hadn’t be midnight yet when the most beautiful creature Buck ever seen made his entrance, it was like he came straight out of one of his deepest fantasy, big brown eyes, silky dark hair, a body to die for hugged perfectly by a black Henley and dark blue jean.

Buck found himself unable to keep his eyes away from the beautiful Adonis, he secretly hoped and prayed that he will come to the bar, that he will be the one to order his friends and him first round, alas he went to sit directly letting what seemed to be his boss take their order.

 --

Hen was everything but blind, she noticed how the cute bartender had checked Eddie when they arrived, noticed how he couldn’t help himself from glancing at Eddie when his attention was elsewhere, she also noted how her friends wasn’t immune to the blond charm either, she was sure that Eddie thought he was being discreet in his checking out.

 Even though he wasn’t hiding his attraction, it was the first time since his disaster divorce that someone caught her friend’s eyes, and it was quite refreshing to see this side of Eddie, thought by the face he was making it seemed that he’d be pinning over the blond for quite a long time now…

 -That place is nice, she grinned, how did you find it, she asked a bit louder the music covering most of their voices.

 -After the divorce trial, Eddie responded wriggling his hands, I needed, he sighed, I needed to… he frowned searching for the right words.

 -Hey no worries Ed, Hen smiled reassuringly, we get it, she said throwing a glance at the rest of their team, we know that your divorce was messy and with Shannon relinquishing her parental rights we get it, she assured.

 -Thanks, he breathed returning her smile.

 -So, she teased, is the cute bartender one of the reason you choose this particular place, she quizzed laughing at his reddening cheeks.

 -I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eddie grumbled looking away.

 When he was sure Hen focus was elsewhere, Eddie returned his attention to Buck, observing how he interacted with customers, how he juggled with bottles to impress them so he could get more tips, watched how the movements of his arms, watched how he flexed his muscles in a flirtatious way, Eddie shook his head dejected before letting out a deep sight, of course men like Buck were solely attracted to cute girls.

 --

Buck had been observing Eddie night wondering why he looked so discouraged, so crestfallen, he’d hopped that maybe his Adonis would come to him, he knew that he had spent most of his time if not his entire time watching him too, it had melt his heart and boosted his ego, it helped him support the crabby business men and too flirty women.

Buck throw another glance toward Eddie’s table, asking himself how and when he could approach him, pondering how he could put a smile to his charming face.

 -Someone caught your attention, Chim asked following his gaze, Buck shrugged slightly trying to play it cool and avoid his brother in law teasing, you should go for it, he added patting his shoulder, it’s been a year since Abby left you deserve to be happy too, he stated gently.

 -I know, Buck blew out actively drying glasses, I know she moved on and I moved on too, he shrugged, it’s just, he hesitated, what if…what if I assumed things, he stammered rubbing his neck, what if he isn’t into guys, he breathed.

-Yeah I wouldn’t worry about that, Chim smiled nodding discreetly his head toward Eddie, he spent his all night checking you out instead of partying with his friends, he assured him before making his way to his back office.

Buck shook his head lightly before glancing back at Eddie’s table, this time and for the first time their eyes finally met, deciding to be bold and to test if Chim was right he risked a wink toward him, beaming proudly when Eddie shyly smiled back.

 --

Hen had been observing Buck’s and Eddie’s “flirtation” for fifteen minutes now, and never in her life she’d witnessed something as frustrating as their interaction, she went as far as wondering if Karen and her had been as hopeless when they started pining for one other, asking herself if her team had felt the same amount of frustration as she was feeling right now.

 -Why don’t you go for it, she nudged Eddie.

-Are you kidding, he snorted shaking his head, pretty sure he isn’t into dude, he mumbled, and even if he was I don’t think divorced single dad is really what he’s looking for, he pointed dejectedly.

-Edmundo Diaz, Hen scolded, look at me, she ordained grinning when he did so, lover boy hadn’t been able to keep his eyes away from you, she pointed, trust me I saw him messing at least three orders because his attention was on you, she laughed, so stop the pity party and go to him, she rejoiced.

-I’m not drunk enough, he grumbled downing his drink and helping himself with another ignoring Hen pointed glare.

-Eddie, Bobby interjected when Eddie went for a fifth glass, trust me liquor courage won’t help you, he advised taking away the beer pitcher.

-Watch me, Eddie boasted staggering to the bar.

Buck had been watching the scene from afar, watching as Eddie and Hen were talking quite animatedly, watching the older man, Bobby, keeping the beer away from his Adonis, he smiled fondly at that, getting a bit envious at how surrounded he was… However his smile quickly left his face when he remarked that Eddie had left his table and team to make his way toward the bar, toward Buck determination clear in his eyes.

 -Hi what can I get you, he asked clearing his throat after Eddie sat himself at the bar.

-Damn you are even prettier from here, Eddie gasped blushing.

-Hum thank you, Buck chuckled his cheeks reddening, so…uhm what can I get you, he reiterated.

-Your number, he blurted eyes widening as he realized what he just said, I probably shouldn’t have said that, he apologized profusely, avoiding Buck’s eyes.

-Why, the blond chuckled, don’t you find me cute, he teased lowering himself so he could meet Eddie’s eyes.

-Dios, Eddie gasped, tengo ganas de ti, he snickered shaking his eyes, you can’t imagine how much, he breathed risking a glance toward Buck.

-How drunk are you? Buck asked biting his lower lip, blue eyes darkening with desire.

-Not drunk, Eddie grinned, just tipsy, he admitted his eyes following the movement of Buck tongue.

Buck nodded satisfied by that answer, he signaled for Eddie to stay put and wait for him to inform Chim that his shift was over. He came back five minutes later two beers in hand, sating himself on his left.

-I’m Evan Buckley but people call me Buck, he smiled holding a bottle to Eddie.

-Edmundo Diaz, he responded taking the bottle, I prefer Eddie though, he smiled taking a sip, I’m sorry if I came as awkward, he apologized, it’s been awhile, he sighed.

-Don’t worry, Buck waved encouragingly, it’s been awhile for me too, he confessed.

-Yeah, Eddie breathed relieved.

-Yeah, the blonde confirmed before clearing his throat, just so we are on the same page, he started, I don’t…I don’t do one night stands, not anymore, he admitted.

-I have a son, Eddie divulged, so no one night stands for me either, he breathed, if it’s too much for you I understand, he rambled.

-I love kids, Buck smiled taking Eddie’s hand in his, and I kinda likes you, he blushed.

-I kinda likes you too, Eddie beamed, I want to learn more about you.

They spent the rest of the night learning about one another, falling for one another, they were entranced by one another never noticing how the place emptied, how Chim let the keys on the bar for Buck, how Hen smiled when they finally kissed…That night had been perfect and the many others that followed.

[gb-fics]

Hypnosis

Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka

Note: This story is based on the video which Golden Bomber shot as DVD extra for their last album. In case you don’t know - they let themselves get hypnotized there. This fic is set after the shooting.

„Hey, wait, before you go …“, Yutaka called out to the hypnotizer.

The cameras had already been removed. Shou had been about to head to the dressing room to remove his makeup and then go home. But he stopped short, eyeing Yutaka warily.

“You can make us admit to things from our subconsciousness, right?”

The hypnotizer looked at him as warily as Shou did. He was still pretty young. When they had called in a hypnotizer, Shou had imagined someone older. He had also imagined them to have a long, white beard. Honestly, in his mind, Shou had imagined someone who looked like a magician.

In spite of his young age, the hypnotizer looked completely exhausted. He had worked hard for his money today. There had been a lot of screaming involved in the video shoot.

“Yeah”, he admitted.

Yutaka clapped his hands.

“Cool. Can you hypnotize me into saying where I left my mobile? I can’t recall where I put it, but my subconsciousness ought to remember, right?”

Jun sighed heavily.

“You can’t be serious”, he said.

Shou rolled his eyes as well.

“That’s not his job, Yutaka”, he said. “Remember where you leave your stuff. Or search harder.”

Yutaka raised his fist as if asking for a fight. There was always something challenging about his movements.

“Come on, we already paid. Why not take advantage of it?”

He looked at the hypnotizer and raised his brows.

Shou huffed and shrugged. Yutaka was the worst. Constantly forgetting stuff. Stealing their time. Talking back as if it was his right to be as annoying as he was. Shou wondered how he managed to be popular with women. Whenever Shou met one of Yutaka’s girlfriends, he just wanted to tell them to run.

“I could technically do that”, the hypnotizer admitted hesitantly. “It wouldn’t even take long.”

“Great”, Yutaka said and beamed.

“Oh, I want to see this”, Kenji cheered.

Shou wondered if it would be rude to return to the dressing room already. He really wanted to go home.

But Kenji and Jun were gathering next to Yutaka and looked so curious, that Shou figured they had turned this into a group activity now.

“Close your eyes”, the hypnotizer ordered. Yutaka did as he was told. “Listen to my voice. Relax. Let your mind go blank. Once I clap my hands, you will tell me where you left your phone.”

He clapped his hands.

“I left it in the fridge this morning”, Yutaka said without hesitation.

He sounded perfectly awake.

Shou would have liked to assume it was nothing but a joke. But that dude had hypnotized him into eating Natto and he hated Natto. Anything was possible. And leaving your phone in the fridge sounded too stupid to make it up. It also sounded just like the dumb kind of thing that dumb Yutaka would do.

“Wake up”, the hypnotizer said and clapped his hands once more.

Yutaka opened his eyes.

“Where is it? Where’s my phone?”, he asked.

“You don’t remember saying anything?”, Jun assured incredulous.

“No!”, Yutaka exclaimed. “I said something?”

“You left it in the fridge this morning, moron”, Shou said and huffed once more.

Yutaka chuckled.

“Oh yeah, that happened before.”

Shou tried not to roll his eyes again. He couldn’t believe he had wasted his time for this.

“Me too, me too!”, Kenji shouted excited.

“What, you lost your phone, too?”, Shou assured.

He was aware that he sounded annoyed for no reason, but somehow the joking enthusiasm of his bandmates got on his nerves. Life seemed so easy for them most of the time.

“There was this really cute woman about fifteen years ago. He wrote down her number on a piece of paper, but I lost it. Can you make me recall the number? I’ve seen it!”

“You want to call up a woman you haven’t seen in fifteen years?!”, Yutaka exclaimed loudly. “She probably won’t remember you!”

“Ah, it was something special”, Kenji whined. “She might have been the love of my life.”

Shou wondered if something like that existed for him. The love of his life. At heart, Shou was a romantic. He would have liked to believe there was someone destined for him. He would have liked to believe he just hadn’t met the right woman yet. But by now, Shou was pretty much convinced that no one was meant for someone like him.

“What if she is ugly now?”, Yutaka asked. “You haven’t seen her in fifteen years!”

“You are so superficial!”, Jun scolded him. “If Kenji liked her, it shouldn’t matter, what she looks like now.”

Yutaka muttered something rude under his breath.

Shou sighed.

That was typical of Yutaka. He was a superficial, ignorant jerk, who was always after pretty women. Shou fell in love fast, but his feelings were always sincere. Yutaka had never seemed like he was in love with his girlfriends. He was usually the one to dump them.

“Fine, we can try”, the hypnotizer admitted. “But it only works, if a part of you remembers. What’s gone, is gone. Close your eyes.”

Kenji closed his eyes.

“Relax. Think of that night. Recall the woman’s face. Tell me her number, once I clap my hands.”

After the clap, everything stayed silent for a while.

Shou wondered less if Kenji would remember the number, but rather if he would actually call the woman if he did. Shou probably wouldn’t gather the courage after so long. Some things could not be patched up after missing the right timing by so many years.

But then, maybe she was the love of Kenji’s life. Shou wanted to believe that it was possible. He wanted to believe, that someone out there was waiting for him as well.

“Ah, I can’t remember”, Kenji said. “I don’t know.”

“Open your eyes”, the hypnotizer said and clapped.

Kenji opened his eyes.

“Did it work?”, he asked hopefully.

Everyone shook their heads.

“It’s my turn again!”, Yutaka jumped in after a short moment of silence. “I want to know, if it’s worth stopping by at the konbini on my way home, or if the reduced bento will be sold out again!”

He closed his eyes before even achieving the order.

The hypnotizer stared at Yutaka kind of helplessly. He cleared his throat.

“This is not magic”, he said. “I’m not a magician. I can only make things from your subconsciousness surface. I can’t magically take a look at the konbini.”

Yutaka blew out the air and opened his eyes again.

“We could try”, he insisted. “Maybe my spirit will fly out and …”

“No”, the hypnotizer interrupted him. He looked like he was done with Yutaka. Shou couldn’t blame him. Yutaka really was the worst.

Shou wondered, if there was something he wanted to know. But all the things he wanted to know were about the future. How much longer will our band last? Will I ever find true love? Will I get married? Or will I die alone?

“Hey, can I ask a question?”, he suggested.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Shou resisted the urge to cross his arms in front of his chest to shield himself against their glances.

“I want to know the name of the love of my life”, he said.

The hypnotizer looked at him like he had looked at Yutaka before. Shou didn’t think that was fair. He wasn’t nearly as dumb as Yutaka.

“I told you, I can’t predict the future”, the hypnotizer said slowly, as if talking to a child.

“Yes, but maybe I already met her”, Shou insisted. “Maybe it would have been one of my exes. Or a celebrity. Maybe I just didn’t realize she was the one yet, but my subconsciousness knows. But if I say her name, I’d know whom to go after.”

“I feel sorry for the girl whose name you say already”, Jun mumbled.

“We should try!”, Kenji agreed. “If it works on Shou, I want to try too! I want to know the name of my future wife.”

The hypnotizer shook his head slowly.

“You are only going to say what you believe to be true. It doesn’t mean you are meant to be with that person”, he pointed out.

Shou shrugged. Suddenly, it did feel like a stupid idea. Did he really believe in destiny? The sad truth was, that Shou wasn’t waiting for the love of his life. He was ready to latch on to any girl, who showed him even the least bit of kindness.

“Does that mean, if Shou had a secret crush or something, he’d reveal her name?”, Yutaka asked, suddenly sounding way too eager.

“I guess”, the hypnotizer confirmed.

Yutaka grinned maliciously.

“Oh, now we have to try. We might find out about Shou’s dark secrets. Maybe he is subconsciously attracted to someone really weird. We could make fun of him for the rest of his life.”

“That sounds fun”, Kenji agreed.

“I’m in”, Jun confirmed.

“Actually …”, Shou tried to protest, not feeling so sure about this idea anymore.

Sure, he wanted to know if there had been someone in his life, he had overlooked or just not tended to enough. He wanted to know if there was something like true love and if he had a shot at it. And if it didn’t work, he was just going to stay silent. It wasn’t like anything could happen, which would cause his friends to make even more fun of him than they usually did.

“Alright”, he gave in with a small sigh.

“Fine, close your eyes”, the hypnotizer said and looked right at Shou.

Shou closed his eyes. The man’s voice was soothing. Everything went black.

Then a loud clap startled him. Shou opened his eyes.

“Did something happen?”, he asked. It felt like he had only blinked.

“You mean, you don’t remember?”, Yutaka asked carefully.

“No”, Shou said. “It’s like no time has passed. Did you even ask me? Did I say something?”

He looked around into everyone’s faces and only now realized they were staring at Shou as if he had just told them he was going to die.

Kenji looked pitiful. Jun looked horrified. Yutaka’s expression was completely blank, as if he couldn’t believe what he just heard. The hypnotizer looked like he just wanted to be home already.

“What is it?”, Shou asked. “Did I claim that I will die sad and alone?”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but at least it would explain the grim faces. Maybe it was, what Shou really believed. There was no one for him. The love of Shou’s life did not exist.

For another moment, everyone stayed silent.

It was Jun, who burst out, as if he could no longer hold back the words:

“You said Yutaka’s name!”

Shou looked at Jun. He seemed to feel guilty for the outburst. Shou looked at Yutaka. Yutaka’s expression was impossible to read.

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, Shou said and looked at their hypnotizer. Shou acknowledged him as the only neutral source available.

He still looked uncomfortable.

“Kyan Yutaka, that’s the name you said”, he confirmed.

“Maybe I mumbled?”, Shou suggested. “And Kyan’s not even his real name. I’m sure you misheard.”

“Oi!”, Yutaka shouted. “You spoke clearly, don’t try to dodge the bullet now. Just admit you are into me already.”

Shou looked at Yutaka again. He was grinning now. He looked pleased with himself. He also looked like a jerk.

Shou wondered, if there was even the tiniest part of himself, that might feel attracted to Yutaka.

Was it possible, that he had actually said his name? Yutaka was a handsome man. Shou had never felt overly attracted to men, but he also wasn’t bothered by the fact that Yutaka had a penis. He was bothered by the fact, that Yutaka was Yutaka.

“Are you sure you asked the right question?”, Shou assured and turned towards the hypnotizer again.

The man shrugged.

“I asked about the love of your life. And now, I’m going home. Your time is up.”

“No, wait!”, Kenji called out. “Can you make me invisible?”

The hypnotizer stared at Kenji. Then he shook his head very slowly.

“No, because – again – I’m not a magician”, he said and turned to grab his jacket.

Kenji pouted.

Shou watched Yutaka from the side. He knew him for so long already. They had been friends for so many years by now. Actually, Yutaka had stayed with him longer than any of the women Shou had dated so far.

But also, Yutaka was an idiot.

Shou certainly did not feel attracted to him. Not even subconsciously.

“Well, hypnosis is stupid anyway”, he announced determined and marched off towards the dressing room.

But if he had really said Yutaka’s name out loud, it would be stupid to ignore that, right? It might have been his wake-up call. Maybe a part of Shou knew where he could find real happiness.

Shou had always been very sure he loved the women he dated. He had liked them instantly, because they were pretty or kind or funny. And it had never worked out.

He had never considered liking Yutaka, because Yutaka was loud and obnoxious and frankly annoying. But he was also pretty and kind and funny, now that Shou thought about it. Maybe it didn’t come so surprising, that a part of Shou would like him. And maybe it was even a good sign, that Shou knew about his bad habits already. For once, he wouldn’t run the risk of getting disappointed.

Not, that he was going to do anything about it. He wasn’t a stupid, hopeless romantic after all.

In the dressing room, Shou loosened his tie and took off his suit coat. Jun and Kenji followed. Both of them were already shirtless. Admittedly, moving around in a suit wasn’t really comfortable. Shou folded the suit coat careful not to crinkle it.

Yutaka entered the room last. Shou didn’t even know why he was paying attention to that.

“So, that was pretty fun”, he said, just to say anything.

Usually, it wasn’t Shou who initiated the small-talk, but right now, the silence felt uncomfortable to him. He didn’t want the others to think about what had just happened. Maybe they’d get the wrong idea. Maybe they would think that it had been more than just a mistake and that Shou actually had gay feelings for Yutaka. Maybe, Yutaka would think that, too.

“Yeah, especially when Kenji got kicked in the butt”, Yutaka agreed.

Right, that was typical. It matched Yutaka’s simple, vulgar taste of humour. Someone getting kicked in the butt was his idea of a good laugh.

Shou ignored the fact, that he himself had laughed the hardest at it.

“Oi, he kicked you in the butt, too!”, Kenji said and laughed.

Yutaka joined in with his laughter.

“Yeah, and it hurt!”, he confirmed.

“I won’t be able to sit down for the rest of the week”, Kenji whined.

“Well, I’m sure the fans will enjoy it”, Jun said. “And that’s the most important part, right, Shou?”

Shou flinched, because he had been lost in thoughts and not prepared to actively engage in the conversation. He had thought about nothing specific. Yutaka had taken off his coat jacket and his vest underneath, too. He was still wearing the tie, although he had loosened it. Shou thought that he looked handsome in a suit.

But then everyone looked handsome in a suit. Kenji looked handsome in a suit. Kenji looked handsome without a suit. If Shou really did feel attracted to men, he’d have said Kenji’s name, not Yutaka’s. That proved it was a mistake. Because even if Shou might have been slightly attracted to Yutaka, he surely didn’t like him in a romantic way. Yutaka was the last person he’d look at romantically.

“Oh, yes, absolutely”, he mumbled and got out a makeup remover tissue to clean off his face.

Shou’s skin got dry underneath the makeup and he always felt fake when wearing it in his free time. As if he was wearing a stage persona that was too big for him in real life. During a show, it was normal to appear flashy and larger than life. But off-stage, Shou couldn’t live up to the image he had created for himself. He felt pathetic when he tried. Without makeup, he felt more comfortable. Also, he didn’t want to be recognized on his way home. The others usually removed their makeup before leaving, too. Shou had never asked them, if they did it for similar reasons.

If he asked Yutaka, maybe Yutaka would turn out to feel too small for his own persona, too. Shou’s ex-girlfriends had never understood that feeling. That had been one of the main problems, which kept them apart emotionally.

Shou checked his face in the mirror. It looked flushed from rubbing off the makeup. His eyes were small. He wasn’t very attractive.

He looked over to Yutaka, out of the corner of his eyes, so he wouldn’t catch Shou staring. He didn’t want Yutaka to think he was having any funny thoughts about him.

Yutaka had pushed the sleeves of his button-down shirt up his lower arms. Kenji and Jun wore their formal clothing with ease. Yutaka never seemed to feel comfortable in it, though. Shou had always liked that about him. It wasn’t just a habit, it was a character trait.

“What are you looking at?”, Yutaka asked harshly.

Obviously, he had caught Shou staring anyway.

“Guess that dude was right – you are in love with me.”

Shou felt himself blushing and lowered his gaze to stare down onto his own feet.

“Don’t flatter yourself”, he said. “You are not my type.”

“Your subconsciousness seems to feel differently”, Yutaka observed.

He was done removing his makeup now, too. His eyes still looked large. Yutaka never looked as different without makeup as Shou did. He just looked a little more tired.

Shou tried to come up with a clever remark, but he had nothing to say to that.

Obviously, his subconsciousness did feel differently.

The thought was a little scary. That Shou didn’t know himself well enough to even figure out whom he was attracted to.

“I’m sure it was just a mistake”, he said quietly.

“Ah, don’t fret”, Kenji said cheerfully. “We know you wouldn’t fall for an idiot like Yutaka.”

“Oi”, Yutaka said, but his voice lacked force. He spoke more quietly without makeup, too.

“Anyway, are we heading out?”, Jun asked.

“Won’t you guys put on shirts at least?”, Shou asked.

Everyone ignored him.

“I’m ready”, Kenji confirmed.

“I think I misplaced my keys”, Yutaka said and searched the pockets of his pants. “Where did that dude go? He needs to ask me about my keys.”

“I have your keys”, Shou said and fumbled to get them out of his bag.

“Why do you have my keys?!”, Yutaka asked irritated.

Shou sighed.

“You gave them to me before the shooting, remember?”, he scolded. “Because you always loose them. I figured they’d be safer with me.”

“Oh, thanks”, Yutaka said and let out an embarrassed laugh while scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You are really taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Shou held out the keys and looked at Yutaka.

He realized that he had indeed been taking care of Yutaka for years already.

His habit of constantly loosing stuff was annoying, but Shou didn’t mind, because they had found a way to deal with it. And Yutaka was loud, but he got quieter when they were alone and maybe that meant they were similar in some respect, because Shou was quieter, too, when the cameras weren’t running. And he was obnoxious, laughing at a guy getting kicked in the butt. But it was Shou, who had laughed the loudest, he remembered that now.

“Friday, 7 pm”, Shou said.

Yutaka froze, before reaching out to grab his keys. Shou felt ridiculous holding them up like that. He lowered his arm.

“What?”, Yutaka asked.

“You and me, Friday, 7 pm. I’ll pick you up”, Shou clarified.

He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but if this was it – if this was his chance for happiness – he couldn’t just let it slip away. He had had an excuse of not noticing for the past twenty years, but now he knew, and if he didn’t act on it, he would miss the right timing for good and mistakes like that couldn’t be made up for. If he wanted to find out, if something like true love existed, he had to try now.

“Wait, are you asking me out on a date?”, Yutaka assured dumbfounded.

“I think we should leave”, Jun said.

“No way, I want to see how this plays out!”, Kenji declared.

Jun grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. Shou only saw it out of the corner of his eyes. He kept his gaze fixed onto Yutaka.

“Not really”, Shou said. “I have decided we will go out on a date and have just informed you about the time.”

“Uhm”, Yutaka said and licked his lips.

Shou had expected him to look full of himself and ready to make fun of Shou, but instead Yutaka seemed insecure about how to react.

“Why … why do you think I’d want to go out with you?”, he asked.

Shou shrugged.

“You see, that is the thing about finding the love of your life. By my definition of romance, that term only applies to someone you could be happy with for the rest of your life. So, when I said your name, I was obviously convinced that we could be happy together. It doesn’t count if it’s unrequited. If you are the love of my life, I am yours, by definition. For your own good, you should give it a try.”

Yutaka furrowed his brow. He seemed to think very hard.

“But it’s just stuff you made up, right?”, he said. “You are aware of that, aren’t you? Just because you think we are meant to be, doesn’t mean we are actually meant to be by destiny or whatever.”

Shou shrugged.

He had already thought about that part.

“But if I think we are meant to be, it means some part of me believes I could make you happy. So, let me try.”

Still, he was expecting Yutaka to burst out laughing right into his face any moment now. But Yutaka stayed irritatingly quiet.

“So, you have feelings for me?”, Yutaka wanted to know. “Or are you just going based on what that hypnotizer told you now?”

Shou pulled up his shoulders defensively.

He didn’t like to admit how romantic he was. How superstitious, too. How desperate.

“I just want to make sure I don’t miss an opportunity for happiness”, he said in a small voice. “I have almost given up on it already. And if a subconscious part of me believes, that it could work with you, I don’t want to wonder for the rest of my life what could have been, just because I brushed it off. Even if I’m not entirely sure about how I feel.”

Yutaka looked at him expressionless for a moment, then he shook his head.

“Man, Shou, you sound so sad. What’s wrong with you? I’m sure there are girls lining up to go out with you. You just don’t see it. You could find happiness, if you just looked a little harder.”

“But my subconsciousness …”, Shou started.

“For fuck’s sake”, Yutaka interrupted him. “It was a joke. A joke, okay, Shou? There is no such thing as the love of your life. Sometimes, you fall in love with the wrong person and they will never like you back and that sucks. But that’s how life goes. There is no destiny.”

Shou didn’t understand why Yutaka sounded so angry.

He felt like throwing up, though.

So, they had played a prank on him. And he had made a fool out of himself by asking Yutaka out. Because, for a moment he had been blinded by how handsome he looked and the years they shared and the affection he felt for him. When offering to take care of his things or when noticing how tired he looked lately, Shou cared and he had mistaken those genuine but meaningless feelings towards Yutaka for something else. They had only wanted to see how flustered Shou would get and how he would insult Yutaka. Surely, no one had expected Shou to do something stupid like actually ask him out. He had embarrassed himself. No wonder Yutaka hadn’t known how to deal with the situation. He must have thought Shou was out of his mind.

“A joke?”, Shou repeated flatly.

Yutaka sighed.

“Sorry, if we took it too far. It was my idea. While you were knocked out, I suggested it and urged everyone to play along.”

“Then, what did I say?”, Shou wanted to know.

“Nothing”, Yutaka said. “It didn��t work.”

“Or maybe I’m just meant to be alone”, Shou concluded.

He felt cold and lonely all of a sudden. He thought of all the years he still had ahead of himself. They felt like an icy, black ocean that he had to cross all on his own. He should have known there was no one out there for him.

“It just means it didn’t work”, Yutaka said, now sounding stern again. “Maybe you haven’t met her yet. Or maybe even your subconsciousness is too stupid to realize it.”

“Maybe”, Shou agreed, but he did not feel convinced. He knew what his silence really meant. Deep down, Shou believed that he deserved to be alone for the rest of his life. That was probably the worst about it. That he wanted to be loved so badly, but couldn’t even believe in the possibility of it himself.

“Hey, I’m sorry”, Yutaka said again.

There were lines showing around the corner of his mouth that only appeared when he was seriously troubled. Yutaka’s troubled face was far more subtle than his happy face. Shou wondered if there was anyone out there, who could read it like he could. After all those years of friendship, Yutaka’s face was the most familiar thing in the world to him. Saying his name hadn’t felt all that absurd, if Shou was being honest.

“It’s fine”, he said. “It was a good prank, actually. If it hadn’t been me, I’d have thought it was funny, too. Sorry for overreacting. It must have made you feel weird.”

Shou wanted to turn to grab his bag, but then realized he was still holding on to Yutaka’s keys. He stopped short and tossed them at Yutaka.

Yutaka caught them. He looked down onto his hand holding the keys, as if he thought about something.

It was the keys, that had made Shou realize he wasn’t indifferent to Yutaka. He had just become so used to caring for him, that he hadn’t even noticed to which extend.

“It wasn’t a prank”, Yutaka finally said and looked up from the keys.

“What?”, Shou assured, not quite able to follow Yutaka’s thought process there.

“It wasn’t just a prank”, Yutaka said. “I wanted to see how you’d react. If it would be impossible for you to believe that … well, that you could like me. Or if maybe you would believe it.”

Shou stared at him.

He had forgotten that he had wanted to leave. He tried to piece it all together.

“Why those games?”

Yutaka chuckled, but it did not sound especially amused.

“I kind of hoped you’d say my name for real”, he admitted. “But that was stupid, of course. Still, I was disappointed when you didn’t. I was trying to push it.”

Shou understood, what Yutaka was trying to tell him. And he even understood why he was telling him now. Yutaka felt sorry for the prank. He felt sorry, because he realized that Shou was more desperate than he had assumed and playing with his feelings wasn’t fair therefore. He was trying to apologize by telling him, what he would never have said out loud otherwise.

Strictly speaking, he still hadn’t said it.

“So, if he had asked you that question …?”, Shou started hesitantly to make sure there wasn’t a misunderstanding going on.

“Yeah”, Yutaka confirmed, before he could even finish.

He looked up at Shou again.

Without makeup he did not look angry or challenging at all. He looked tired and as if he was exhausted with keeping up the constant act.

“But the love of your life, are you sure?”, Shou asked.

Yutaka smiled. Even his smile looked tired.

“Shou, I know you for about twenty years now”, Yutaka said. “This isn’t exactly a brief crush. I know how I feel about you. And I don’t need a magician to tell me that.”

Shou thought of all the women Yutaka had dumped, because he never seemed as invested as they were.

“He’s not a magician”, Shou said quietly.

Yutaka snorted.

“Right”, he said.

For a moment, he just stood there awkwardly and Shou wondered, what he was supposed to say now. Both of them seemed to wait for the other one to speak.

“Well”, Yutaka finally muttered and put the keys into the pocket of his pants. He turned towards the door.

Shou stared at his back. The sight made him feel incredible sorry. Somehow, it also made him feel hopeful, though. Because he felt the need to protect Yutaka, to wrap his arms around him from behind and make sure, he’d never hurt again. Never, for the rest of his life.

“Friday, 7 pm, don’t forget about it!”, Shou called after him.

Yutaka turned around, looking bewildered. But the lines around his eyes told Shou, that he was trying to hide a smile. Shou knew how to read that face better than anyone else.

“You sure?”, Yutaka asked.

Shou shrugged and flashed him a goofy smile.

“I told you, according to my definition of romance, it doesn’t count, if it’s unrequited. And if I’m the love of your life …” He paused. “Well, let’s find out, if you are the love of mine.”

[neshabeingchildish]

Hensley & Char: Friends or Whatever || Part 3

@just-a-j-reallly @junknstu1f @henryharts I absolutely pushed this bad boy out in a couple of hours, since I’m trying to hold myself to a somewhat organized schedule, with going back to a second job on mornings that I don’t have to work nights. If there are typos and such, please just remember that this is free and that I am busy. Lol. I promise, whenever I’m not pressed for time and energy, I do everything to give y’all my best, but when I am those things, my best has to dwindle a little, in terms of editing, hopefully not content. I’ve been missing Chasper, so this chapter is kind of Chasper heavy, from Hensley’s view of them, and also I wanted to get into the universe that we’re more familiar with, so while I didn’t feel like certain things needed to change - like meeting Ray and getting the job, I wanted to just sort of do the ff thing we do and look at other areas of the world while all of that was happening.

The Danger Befriends

“We’re almost 12. Her issues might strictly be hormones, and maybe that means that she’ll be less mean soon,” Jasper said.

“Shut up about hormones!” Charlotte snapped at him. “You ALWAYS blame women being rightfully angry with you on hormones! It’s NOT hormones, Jasper. It’s YOU. YOU are the reason we’re mad!”

Hensley didn’t want to get in the middle, but these were both her beast friends and she knew that this was all just a misunderstanding. Jasper wasn’t inconsiderate or stupid… Just very, very gullible. This was dirt from Jupiter all over again. “Jasper,” Hensley said, as gently as she could, “I think what Charlotte means is that instead of telling us the reason why you’re holding a filthy cat instead of our carnival tickets, you’re focused on her reaction to the fact that you handed a stranger the money for the tickets and they gave you a disgusting animal.”

“She’s not disgusting. She just needs a bath…” Jasper said, but before he could complete the thought Charlotte lunged towards him and Hensley had to collect her in a restraining hold to keep her from getting her hands on Jasper. Jasper’s eyes widened and Hensley cooed in Charlotte’s ear to try to calm her. 

“It’s okay, Char. It’s Okay. I carried a little extra money and I’LL get your ticket. Okay?It’s all good. It’s ALL good.” Charlotte struggled Hensley’s hold off of her and glared at Jasper, shaking her head, before she marched off and went to stand in line, herself. 

Jasper shook his head, “I think that a good counselor and perhaps even medication will help her with that.” Hensley just sighed. He had a point,  but he also missed the point. But, moments later, a guy in a trench coat really did come back with their tickets and three drinks, because they were waiting out in the sun with his cat. 

Hensley pulled Charlotte from the line, explained that this time, Jasper hadn’t screwed up and Charlotte said, “Well, it still was careless and under normal circumstances would have been a scheme.” Then, they got on rides and all was forgotten for a while. 

The moments where the three of them had fun and enjoyed each other’s company were Hensley’s favorite. She frequently felt like she had to pick sides because they argued so much. Jasper loved Charlotte. He had always liked her as a person and spending the past couple of years around her only accelerated that for him. The three were together everyday and always made plans as a team. No one would be left behind, because to Hensley, that would feel like choosing between them. And she really couldn’t.

Jasper was her yes man. Charlotte was her voice of reason. Those were things that she needed to always receive both of in order to make good decisions. She did not always make them, but she couldn’t comprehend what life would be without the two varying options. They were like the little angel and devil on her shoulders, except Jasper was the clueless angel and Charlotte the all knowing devil. You’re SUPPOSED to listen to the angel, but this particular angel was only right every now and then. The devil was always right, but she was an angry little person and threatening… That made her truth seem like it wasn’t so. Yet, she was usually right, and Hensley only SOMETIMES listened to her.

But, in those moments whenever Jasper couldn’t be around - they flowed better. And in the moments that Charlotte didn’t show her face, Hensley and Jasper made more sense. It was… confounding to Hensley. She NEEDED both of them, but it was so much easier to deal with them separately, usually. She wondered if they were like that too. Did Jasper and Charlotte have a harmonious dynamic whenever Hensley wasn’t there to demand both of their attention? She wondered what that was like. 

She imagined that Jasper was sweet and that in spite of herself, she would soften for him and smile a lot, maybe even giggle… She… kinda felt a little bit jealous about it. WHAT did Charlotte and Jasper do whenever SHE wasn’t there? Sometimes, if they studied together, or Charlotte’s mom gave him a ride home or something, even at times, he stayed the night over there??? WHAT? They could barely get along, WHY would he be able to sleep in the same room as her? AND… He was a boy!

Hensley watched Charlotte reading and Jasper leaning up against her, getting ready to fall to sleep. She made a frowning face at him and he quickly shuffled away and made a makeshift, non-Charlotte pillow of his over shirt and backpack. But, when he drifted off, Hensley noted that Charlotte sighed, grabbed a bandanna out of her bag, wiped his sweat off and tucked the bandanna in his pocket. Why had she done that? Did she LIKE him? Why was Hensley so preoccupied with these details?

Charlotte stared at her and looked confused for a moment, then figured it was because of what just happened. She explained, “Jasper’s medication for his sweating problem has changed. The new one makes him a little more tired. I don’t want him sweating all over me or my carpet.” Rational. Reasonable. Nothing to be concerned about, and even if it WAS… She wouldn’t be concerned, because she and Charlotte were just friends anyway. Just like Charlotte and Jasper were. But then, “He looks different when he sleeps. When he’s shut down and silent - he’s actually cute, right?” Charlotte asked. 

Of course, she meant like a roly poly rodent, but Hensley just heard cute and while she agreed, denied it. “Jasper? Cute?” She laughed. “Why don’t you just kiss him?” 

“I would get sweat on my lips,” she said, cringing, “Jasper sweat. I don’t even want my own sweat on my lips…” She looked at Hensley like she was extremely gross for even attempting such a joke, and Hensley relaxed and didn’t think about it again. 

There was no way that Charlotte liked Jasper. He wasn’t gross, but Charlotte found a lot of his habits to be. Plus, he irritated her very easily and even though she was nice to him sometimes, there was just this… Hensley couldn’t find the right word to describe a disconnect, so she thought of it as a no-no region… Though that sounded like their private parts, so she just simply stopped trying to find words and counted it as “would never happen.” Yet, she spent about a year convincing herself that Jasper and Charlotte were just friends and woul;d always just be friends. 

It was hard though. That Charlotte had two best friends of different genders who both liked girls and she seemed to like both of them sometimes and like neither of them sometimes. All of Hensley’s life, there were people who would say things like she and Jasper would wind up dating someday or that they were probably soul mates/would get married, etc. They made it out to be like boys and girls couldn’t have friendships that were just that and it never moved her before because she knew that Jasper was not her type. She and Jasper had the SAME type, for as long as she could remember thinking about it. But, now… That could/might include Charlotte. 

Charlotte wasn’t really the kind of girl that Hensley tended to be attracted to, but by 13, she definitely had become aware that it was probably because she didn’t see other girls that were like Charlotte, and that she hadn’t for as long as she had been in school, and not because Charlotte wasn’t totally pretty. She absolutely was. But, the more time went by, the more she realized that despite that Jasper had always noticed Charlotte. He knew her name. He knew about her plans and her life. He treated her like  a person who he cared about… and he did this before she became Hensley’s best friend. It wasn’t a competition, but Hensley had a problem not competing. 

.

The feelings were exacerbated whenever Hensley happened upon a part time job… No, Charlotte found her a part time job. Hensley was now, not only a productive member of society, but the actual sidekick to Swellview’s superhero, Captain Man, and that required secrecy and discretion. That required leaving Jasper and Charlotte alone and going to work to keep the city safe, to keep them safe… and she made an oath never to tell them.

“Why aren’t we allowed to stop by your job?” Charlotte asked, while Jasper drank from his bucket thermos as they walked from school. “We aren’t going to ruin anything, and we just wanted to be able to look around and possibly even make a purchase and contribute to your paycheck. You barely let us in the door…” 

Hensley nervously laughed and shook her head, “I… don’t need your money for my paycheck. You two don’t even have jobs..”

“Yeah, upon further research, I found out nobody really hires 13 year olds for anything…” Charlotte started.

Jasper quickly spouted out, “Oh, it’s illegal. It’s one of Swellview’s many stupid laws.”

“It’s not just a Swellview law, though. It’s most places. My research concluded that the jobs available for kids under 16 are generally permissions for entrepreneurial ventures, Internet personalities, highly regulated child celebrity gigs, and family businesses where they aren’t actually on payroll. I wonder why the junk store doesn’t have to follow those regulations…” Charlotte said, suspiciously. The last thing that Hensley needed was Charlotte being suspicious.

Jasper offered, “It may be a historic building, in which case, in Swellview, they are allowed to hire as early as 13, but only in a part time capacity, and if the training for said job is at least one year.”

“That’s gotta be it! Ray’s father bought the place when he was a kid,” Hensley said, unsure of what even constitutes as a historical building, but hoping that Charlotte wouldn’t investigate it. She wasn’t even paying attention to her, though.

Charlotte smiled at Jasper, “You really know Swellview laws.”

“One of Dad’s main rules is if he ever has to get a call that I’ve been arrested, it better be a misunderstanding,” Jasper said with a shrug.

“You almost always get in trouble at every bit of fault of your own,” Charlotte told him.

“Yes, but not illegally.” 

Hensley was happy to have the conversation off of her work. 

Jasper’s dad was a defense attorney, so Jasper knew a lot about laws and ordinances and stuff. Maybe that was why he was so good in social studies and language arts. He knew laws, history, and wordplay. Charlotte was good with sciences and math. Between the both of them, Hensley was able to keep her head above water in school. She would need them now more than ever, because her job as Kid Danger was taking everything out of her and she hadn’t even been doing it for very long. But, whenever she looked at her two friends, who bickered like an old married couple, but also loved on each other, she knew that this job wasn’t just about the money or even the newfound high of fame. It was about what was best for Swellview. For Hensley Hart, Swellview was her two best friends…

“So… Can we stop in sometime, though?” Charlotte asked, not being deterred.

“Oh, my boss Ray is kind of a stickler about it…” Hensley said.

“Probably doesn’t want something to happen where he has a liability,” Jasper said. 

Charlotte looked disappointed as she shrugged her shoulders and tugged Jasper’s sleeve, “Well, I guess that means we’ll see you tomorrow. Jasper gave Hensley a hug and the two walked beyond the store, debating whether they were going to get snacks before heading to Charlotte’s, or trust that her mom had something other than organic/vegan/no added sugars or flavors stuff that Jasper always felt like was a crime against taste buds…

Hensley went into the store. Just another day of Danger, for her. And her friends would be alright.