#I’m the most easy breezy person you will ever meet when it comes to hanging out

[rosicheeks]

So how did it go with your friend coming over?

Oh she stood me up

[tulipjeanohare]

Untitled

PAIRING: EZ Reyes x OC (Sloane)

NOTES: I wrote this during Season 2 and just never shared it but I’ve been wanting to get back into writing. SO, I hope you guys enjoy and I’d love feedback!

WARNING: Mature Themes.

Credit to the person who made the gif @shadesalvarez

WORD COUNT: 6, 370

It was another typical Friday night at the bar; the place was packed wall to wall, a new band was perched on the stage performing a set list of songs she’d never remember, and the regular unfavorable drunks were crowding the bar top. Just another weekend wasted working behind the bar when she’d much rather be somewhere else doing just about anything other than this. The bar wasn’t that bad, really. But it wasn’t what she wanted. It paid the bills and that was all that mattered to her as a single mother.

There was never time for men and she was fine with that. Her son didn’t need any other men dropping in and out of his life. That much she were sure of. So she lived the monotonous life that she had grown accustomed to the last few years. During the week she worked at a local art museum in an attempt to keep her passion for art alive while she couldn’t afford to actually make any then the weekend came and she spent her nights slinging drinks for every lowlife that decided to slither into the dimly lit hole in the wall bar off the highway.

It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, she had regulars that she loved seeing and for the most part everyone kept their hands to themselves and tipped rather well. The whole single mother thing did work to her advantage from time to time. But every now and then some idiot would come in trying to impress whatever frat friends he had drug along with him and made a pass at her. She could normally handle herself pretty well but when they got too aggressive she defaulted to the gruff, muscular man they’d hired to work security.

Tonight was no exception to any of this.

Earlier in the evening she had dropped her son off at her friend’s house and gave him an extra long hug. Promised him she’d see him bright and early in the morning and she was off. It never got any easier to leave him; he was four now and was the smartest kid she’d ever met, she might be a little biased but it was true. Those big brown eyes of his melted her heart every time he gave her the same sad puppy dog face before she left. She knew he was fine there. He loved her friend, she was like family to the both of them. But she still hated to leave him to go deal with a bunch of overly macho men for hours on end.

By the time she got to the bar the place was already crowded and the band had already started to play. As quickly as she could she made her way behind the bar and dumped her bag and jacket in the backroom before making her way to her first customer of the night.

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

EZ had taken off from the clubhouse almost two hours ago without a plan in his mind of exactly where he was going. All he knew was that he needed some space. He needed to forget the life he’d chosen for just a few hours and pretend he wasn’t the man he’d become. The loud engine of the motorcycle roared in his ears as he passed a big black sign reading ‘Big Al’s Roadside Bar, Next Exit’.

That’ll have to do, he thought to himself.

When he pulled into the gravel lot in front of the building there wasn’t a single motorcycle in sight and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders he didn’t know had been there. Before he headed inside he took off the leather cut with his name stitched on one side and shoved it into the bag on the side of his bike. There was no reason for anyone here to know who he was or that he ran with any club.

His watch read half past eleven when he entered the door. Enough time for him to have a couple drinks and maybe make his way to that motel he'd noticed just up the road. The place was loud and the people were crowded inside like a can of sardines so he figured his best bet would be to make himself at home up at the bar, hide himself in the corner there and get a little drunk.

Once he reached the bar though he was a little more than surprised to see such a beautiful woman behind it. All the bars in Santo Padre either had weathered old ladies behind them or former inmates he’d probably seen in passing during his time inside. The woman behind this bar was far more beautiful than anyone he’d seen back home in a long time. She had thick mess of black hair that fell well past her shoulders, he watched as she pulled it back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

She looked real. Not like the girls who hung around the clubhouse in hopes of becoming someone’s old lady. Her face was bare except for the gloss that created a sheen on her plump lips. Lips he’d pay good money to kiss. The black jeans she had on hugged her every curve so tightly he couldn’t help but stare when she turned to hand another bar patron their drink. The T-shirt she wore had the Virgin Mary printed on the front, exactly like the statue that sat inside the clubhouse in Santo Padre, but he was sure if wasnt some funny pun for her because he’d noticed the delicate cross necklace hanging around her neck. One arm had a smattering of tattoos he couldn’t quite make out while the other seemed bare.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d been staring at her until she turned to him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face before leaning her palms against the bar top, “you wanna order something or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“Shit, sorry,” he quickly answered.

A laugh fell from her lips, a laugh that rang over the music. It was sweet and soft, no malice behind it. It made EZ’s shoulders relax a little. “S’ok...not the worst anyone has ever done in this bar. Long day?”

“You could say that,” EZ replied.

Without a word she nodded, reached under the bar for a cold beer and popped the top off before sliding it across the table to him. “Nothing an ice cold beer can’t help, right?”

“Amen,” he smiled, reaching in his pocket for some cash.

Before taking it the bartender eyed it for a second, “you wanna just open a tab?”

“Nah, I’ll take it one beer at a time,” he assured her.

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

The rest of the night went off as usual; the same guys sidled up to the bar to grab her attention for a few quick moments before another pushed his way up to her. But there was one thing that was different tonight. The guy at the end of the bar.

He wasn’t like the others. His eyes were kind and he spoke with more eloquence than any man she’d met in her entire life had. He was polite and quiet, a god send on a night like tonight. So she spent a little more time at his end of the bar than any other. Any time he would finish a beer she was sure to be right there with a fresh one and he would hand her another handful of bills.

One beer at a time.

Things were beginning to quiet down at one when it happened.

She was wiping down the bar top at the other end of the bar when a new guy took a seat. He leaned over a little too close for comfort when she asked him what he wanted. Then when she handed him the class of brown liquor he’d asked for he grabbed her hand in his, which she quickly shook herself free of.

EZ took notice of the interaction. He’d been nursing another beer, trying to decide if it was time for him to head to that motel when he saw the guy grab hold of her hand. He felt himself begin to react before she shook her arm free, scowling at the guy before walking back down towards him.

“You alright,” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

A smile crept across her lips as she nodded, letting her elbows rest on the wood top while she leaned over it. “I get five of those guys a night...that’s nothing. I appreciate your concern though...I never got your name.”

“EZ,” he smiled, those pearly white teeth of his on full display.

Standing there across the bar from him, a mere few inches from him, she felt like her heart skipped a beat. There’s got to be a catch here, she thought to herself. “EZ? Interesting,” she smiled, holding her hand out for him. “I’m Sloane, nice to officially meet you.”

When he took her hand in his she could feel the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She hoped to god he couldn’t see it in the dim lighting in the bar. But the rough, calloused feeling of his palm against hers felt nice. A sign of a real man.

And EZ got a rush of electricity through him as he held her hand in his. He could smell her perfume wafting in front of him when she leaned in closer to him. It was like a field of fresh flowers on a breezy day. “That’s a nice name, it suits you,” EZ said softly.

Before either of them could say anything else someone at the other end of the bar was shouting for her. Quickly she gave him an apologetic look before making her way to the person.

Once again EZ was tempted to watch her; the way she moved was so easy, like she was doing a dance every time she’d spin around to grab a bottle of liquor or reach one way or the other for a glass. The same piece of hair kept falling in her face until she finally pulled the hair tie from her hair and let it fall at her shoulders. Somehow it made her even more beautiful to him. The dark mess of hair she’d had pulled back before now framed her face. Every now and then she’d tuck a piece behind her ear before it fell again.

The way he was feeling towards this new stranger in front of him was different. It had been a long time since he’d felt any sort of way about a woman. His mind had been stuck on one in particular and it was becoming more and more evident that nothing was ever going to happen with them again.

She wasn’t Emily but deep down he felt like she might be better than Emily.

Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts he noticed the same guy from before giving her a hard time. But this time he had a hold of her forearm, hard enough that her skin was white where his hand held to her. He gave her a few seconds, waiting for her to pull free of him again or for the bouncer to jump in but nothing like that happened. The guy kept holding onto her and she was getting more and more agitated as the interaction went on.

“Let go of me right now,” she all but shouted at the guy.

He rolled his eyes, leaning in closer to her, “oh come on, stop playing hard to get and just let me take you home.”

Before she was able to get another word out EZ had his hand on the guys arm and was almost chest to chest with him. “Let her go before I make you,” he said, his already deep voice seeming to drop another octave.

Now it was a tangle of arms in the middle of them. EZ holding tightly to his while the guy still kept his hold on Sloane. And the next thing she knew the drunk guy was headbutting EZ and lunging towards him. With her arm now free her eyes darted around the room in search of her back up, the guy that was generally posted up at the end of the bar to keep his eye on her was nowhere to be found. All she could do now was hope it didn’t get too out of hand.

EZ took a quick swing at the guy and landed his fist right on his chin, knocking the guy back a couple steps. But that didn’t stop him from going at her new friend again; swinging with all his might in hopes of landing something. It was clear to Sloane that this wasn’t EZ’s first fight, he knew what he was doing but the other guy was way in over his head with too much testosterone and alcohol running through him to tell him to stop while he was ahead.

A few more punches had the guys lip bleeding and his already wobbly footing worse. By that time the bouncer had made his way back to the bar and quickly grabbed hold of the swinging drunk and started to cart him out of the bar. He turned to yell at the other man that he’d be back for him but she stopped him, “let him be, he was just stepping in to stop that guy. He’s fine.”

The bouncer glanced from his bartender then to the muscular man standing just a few feet from him, not a single bead of sweat on him. All he could do was nod and continue kicking the other man out of the place.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Sloane shook her head, trying to conceal the smile attempting to break across her face.

As much as she hated having anyone thinking they needed to defend her honor she had to admit that it was really hot seeing him land that punch. And his body hadn’t looked bad doing so either.

She pulled another bottle of beer from the ice and handed it to him, “this one's on me, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he started.

Shaking her head she pushed the money he’d started to hand to her back his way, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

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

The band had long since vacated the stage and people were filing out of the bar by the time EZ had decided it was time to leave. Sloane had been a breath of fresh air for him and he didn’t want to have to head out any sooner than he had to. But he figured she wanted to get the place cleaned and clock out so he’d dropped some cash on the bar top for a tip and started for the door. But soon he heard her familiar voice call out to him.

“Hey,” she shouted, her voice carrying over the soft music playing from above. “How do you feel about a couple drinks...back at my place?”

EZ wasn’t sure he heard her right. Sure, she’d given him a little more attention than any of the other bar goers tonight but he hadn’t even for a second thought she’d ask him back to her place. The room felt a lot quieter as he stumbled with his words, completely caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, yeah...that actually sounds great.”

“Give me ten minutes,” she replied before bouncing off to wipe down the tables scattered around.

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

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm on the drive to Sloane’s place, both of them eager to hear the other’s voice no matter what they were saying. Every now and then she’d catch his gaze lingering a little longer than he’d intended for her to see and it gave her those familiar butterflies from earlier in the night. She was having an internal battle with herself though; this is so stupid...what do you thinks going to come of this, she’d hear the voice in her head ask. But she didn’t care. It had been years since she’d had any kind of relationship with a man, one night would be good for her.

So, a fifteen minute drive later and they were pulling up to the front of her apartment building and he was following her closely up the stairs. To be fair he wanted to press her up against her door the minute they hit it but he restrained himself, he wanted to let the night last as long as possible. He was enjoying himself. Enjoying not thinking about his life back home.

“Place might be a little messy,” she told him, kicking her shoes to the side as soon as she stepped inside with EZ following suit.

While she busied herself in the kitchen searching for the liquor EZ wandered around the living room, taking everything in. The place was immaculate except for a few toys strewn about on the floor; a small blue blanket with cars all over it tossed over the side of the couch hastily, a tiny plastic easel in the corner with a freshly done finger painting clipped to it. Next to it was a larger one with the beginnings of an incredible, vibrantly colored painting.

“You have a son,” he asked, his voice carrying to Sloane in the kitchen as she grabbed a couple glasses.

Biting her lip she nodded, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of the couch before making eye contact with him. “Yeah, he’s the one guy in my life,” she beamed. “Just turned four last month, he stays with my best friend while I work at the bar on the weekend. Is it weird?”

“Nah, I love kids,” EZ smiled. “Dad in the picture?”

Sloane shook her head, pouring some of the brown liquor into the glasses. “No, it’s probably for the best anyways. We make a pretty good little duo. What about you?”

“Just me,” he said, wincing a little as the hard liquor stung the back of his throat. “Pretty close with my pops...and my brother.”

It was tempting for her to question the little pause he made before he mentioned his brother but she didn’t think it was any of her business having only just met him a few hours ago. She felt so at ease with him though she almost asked, it was on the tip of her tongue to say something but she held back. The smile that lingered at the corner of his lips told her there was good there.

The two of them sat side by side on the floor in front of the couch; the coffee table pushed out a little to give them more room, their bodies turned towards each other so they could talk, the brown liquor getting less and less in the bottle. There had been a handful of moments where EZ had wanted make a move. To rest his hand on her thigh or tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear before leaning in for a kiss. But he wanted to hear more about her and her life and everything about her.

He was enthralled.

And so was she.

She could see the kindness in his eyes. Past the bruise under his left eye and the cut on his cheek there was more to him. When they had left the bar she’d noticed the motorcycle and wanted to ask him about it but she decided not to. There was probably something there she wouldn’t like and tonight she just wanted to have fun. Every time he made even the slightest move the veins in his forearms shifted just the slightest bit and it made her think of how it would feel to have those arms wrapped around her body. Then he’d speak and she was enticed by the deepness to his voice, the diction in the wash he spoke was nothing like she’d heard around there before. The guys there wouldn’t know how to string an intelligible sentence together if their lives depended on it.

EZ was different.

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

Sloane rested her head on the chest of the new man in her bed. One arm of his slung around her waist while his hand gently stroked her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. She let her hand rest on his abdomen before she let her fingers trace lines down the center of his stomach. He was all muscle and she could feel it while he was on top of her, the way his body weighted over her as they moved in rhythm together.

The room was silent except for the heaviness of their breathing. EZ felt chills run up his spine the way she tucked her leg over his bare thigh while they laid there. Her soft skin felt like silk against his and he wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. If he closed his eyes long enough he could still see her silhouette above him in the dark room. He could envision the way her hips moved back and forth as she rode him. His fingers holding tightly to her hips until he finally pulled her down close to him so he could nip and kiss at her skin.

For a second he leaned down and pressed a kiss into the crown of her hair, a simple gesture that spoke volumes, before he spoke. “Ezekial,” he said quietly.

“Huh,” she questioned, turning so she could rest her chin on his chest.

The outline of his face just visible in the moonlight pouring in through the closed blinds. “That’s my name. My full name. Ezekial.”

“I like that,” a smile spread across her face and she wasn’t sure why. She turned her face to nuzzle her nose against his bare shoulder before peppering his skin with a few quick kisses. “Ezekial.”

EZ loved the way his name sounded coming off her lips. The raspiness in her voice and the way he could almost hear her smile as she said it. He’d heard it countless times before but it felt special when she said it.

After a few more silent minutes she got up to use the bathroom and he leaned over to grab his boxers, sliding them on before he turned the bedside lamp on. The bathroom door was left open a crack and he could just barely see her naked frame moving in front of the mirror before she pulled his shirt on over her head. His eyes wandered down her body as she walked back into the bedroom, the shirt of his clinging to her curves and just stopping below her ass.

“You’re incredible,” he grinned, reaching his hand out to her as she moved to the side of the bed.

She couldn’t help but smile back at him. Not because of the compliment but because of the way his face lit up as he said it. The laugh lines next to his eyes crinkled as his smile widened and it made his deep brown eyes even more endearing than they already were.

Thoughtlessly she let him take her hand in his and pull her down onto him on the bed. Her legs rested on either side of him as he let her sit in his lap, his hands resting at the small of her back. If he had it his way this night wouldn’t ever end. He hadn’t thought about the club or his brother or Emily all night and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Where’d they make you,” she asked with a hint of a laugh in her voice. “You’re...different. Good different.”

He didn’t answer her with words. He simply just wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her into his chest before he pressed his lips against hers once more. There wasn’t any hesitation there; her lips parted to allow his tongue to slide across her bottom lip before they let themselves get lost in the kiss. Sloane’s mind wandered back to earlier in the night after they’d finished their whiskey and their bodies had somehow moved closer and closer to one another where they sat. She could see his eyes move to her lips every now and then while they talked and she wanted to beg him to kiss her about a hundred times before he actually did.

And once he finally did they were quickly moving to the bedroom. Her bedroom she hadn’t shared with anyone but her son in a very, very long time. They’d stumbled down the hallway attached at the lips before he finally grabbed ahold of her and pressed her up against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as they both yearned to be closer to each other.

“Is this okay,” EZ had asked, his lips trailing down her neck while his hands held tightly to her back side.

It had made her smile; it had been a very long time since any man had ever asked her permission for anything let alone this. So she had placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled his attention back to her face before speaking. All she said was a breathless yes before they stumbled their way to the bedroom.

By the time Sloane was able to pull herself back to reality, back from her thoughts Ezekiel had flipped her onto her back and was pushing his shirt up over her chest to let his mouth wander over her breasts. A shiver shot through her at the feeling of his soft lips kissing and sucking at her skin. She let her fingers run over the smooth buzzcut of his as he traveled farther and farther down her body until she could feel his warm breath between her thighs.

Before they had both been so hungry for each other all they wanted to do was get off and quickly. But now they wanted to take their time. EZ wanted to explore her body; he wanted to hear the way she’d moan the first time she felt his tongue on her, he wanted to know how it felt to have her body wrapped around his while they made love. Sloane wanted to hear his gruff voice whispering to her while he was inside her, to feel the weight of his strong body on top of hers once more.

The room had fallen silent except for the sound of the shaky breaths she was taking as he gave his full attention to her core. His tongue lapped at her lips teasingly before she felt his teeth graze the sensitive little nub tucked inside. A whiney moan escaped her, her back arching at the new sensation. His hands held tightly to her thighs with his face buried between them for what felt like an eternity and by the time he pulled back her entire body was shaking on the edge of an intense orgasm.

“Ezekiel...please,” she almost pleaded with him.

A smile curled at the corners of his mouth before he peppered the inside of her thigh with kisses, “be patient, baby.”

And she tried to stop herself from letting out the sound that came next but she couldn’t help herself. The moan was throaty and full of lust, her lips parted perfectly and bright cherry red from how she’d been biting on the bottom lip. Hearing him call her baby was more than enough to encourage her to hold off for him. If she was honest she’d do just about anything for him right now.

Once more his lips trailed her skin but this time he was heading upwards, leaving the spot between her legs he’d made himself at home at and making his way to her breasts. The pink colored skin of her nipples was pebbled and hard from just the light nibbles he was giving her skin. But he hadn’t forgotten about her needs; while his mouth made quick work of her nipples he let one hand slip between her thighs and slipped two fingers inside of her which elicited a sharp intake of breath from her.

Her body writhed underneath him in an attempt to hurry along her orgasm because she knew once she came like this he’d been inside of her. And her body felt like every inch of her was on fire the way he was working her core with just his fingers. The tips of his calloused fingers were gliding over her gspot repetitively while his thumb rubbed back and forth over her clit.

Just as her back began to arch off the sheets below her EZ moved his attention from her chest up to her neck and then let his lips rest against her earlobe before he spoke. “Can you come for me,” he whispered, his free hand caressing her side.

In her head she had a witty line to reply with but she couldn’t get it out. The wires were crossed because her body was in overdrive the way he was fucking his fingers into her. So she settled on a lot of eye contact and a quick, almost pleading, nod of the head.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

At that her legs began to shake and she let her nails dig into his bare back as she began to hit her climax. A few throaty moans broke the silence in the room before he pressed his lips to hers, letting his mouth swallow her audible pleasure as she came down.

For a few short moments the two of them laid there tangled together allowing each other to cool off. But she could feel how hard he was as his erection pressed into her hip. Without a word she slipped her hand between the two of them and slowly stroked him, his hips absentmindedly working in motion with her hand. “I need you,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his temple.

They both knew one of them should’ve reached for a condom. It wasn’t anything new to either of them to use protection but they couldn’t be bothered in this moment. Both of them ached to feel that closeness between the two of them again. They each wanted to feel the slow movements of the other while they were so intimately joined together. Before had been quick and sloppy. But this, this was going to be slow and needy for both of them.

They hadn’t spoken of it but they both knew the other needed this intimacy. He was looking to forget his life back home for a while and she was holding off on reality herself. She wanted to remember what it felt like to have a man’s gentle touch, to be with someone who wanted to be with her.

EZ lifted his head until their foreheads were resting against one another, his nose grazing the tip of hers as he repositioned himself between her legs. He pushed her legs wider with his muscular thighs, his cock grazed her lips for a second before he slowly slide inside of her.

In unison they both let out shaky moans; her hands gripped onto his biceps as he hovered above her, their faces still touching. His eyes studied her face for a few more moments before he began working his hips against hers. The soft sound of skin on skin filling the quiet bedroom. One hand of his slipped beneath her to grab hold of her backside while the other slide up her neck until it was placed just under her chin, the slightest amount of pressure applied.

“Ezekial,” she sighed, her lips curling into a smile at the feeling of his hand around her neck.

He had to clinch his jaw to keep his composure. Hearing his name fall from her lips like that, with the visual of his hand where it was placed was too much for him. And the way her body moved in rhythm with his as he fucked her slowly only made him more sensitive. To keep his mind occupied, to hold himself off as long as possible, he busied himself kissing up her jawine until he buried his face into the crook of her neck. The faint smell of her perfume lingered there.

Sloan let her eyes flutter closed as he allowed himself to rest on top of her, bringing them closer together as they fucked. One leg hooked behind him to keep them close while her hands held tightly to his broad back. His skin was soft to the touch and he smelled like sandalwood, she couldn’t imagine anyone like him ever being in jail but he’d divulged that to her earlier. If it had been anyone else she would’ve ended the night but not with EZ. No, for some reason even after he told her about his past she still felt safe with him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he finally spoke again.

She smiled against his ear, nibbling at the skin, before pressing him back from her and back onto the bed. For a split second he fell from her but she quickly straddled him and guided him back to her core. A shutter went through her at the way she stretched around him. “I could do this all night,” she finally replied, her breathing uneven.

That beautiful smile of his spread across his face and she couldn’t help but smile back. Even in the darkness of the bedroom she could still see how perfect it was, she could still map out the little creases at the side of his eyes that formed when he smiled.

Resting her hands on his chest she began to buck her hips back and forth quicker now. His hands found their way to her hips and held onto her as he watched her from below, his hips working up against her. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted at the feeling of him slipping deeper inside of her. EZ’s eyes were fixated on the way her breasts bounced up and down with every movement either of them made.

The tattoos that littered her skin on display as she rode him and he wanted to kiss every last one, trace them with his fingertips while they laid naked together. He wanted to know about the little one that sat on her left hip all the way up to the lotus flower at the nape of her neck.

Soon he was pulled from his thoughts when he heard her call out his name once more. This time it was needy; her brow furrowed together as her body leaned down closer to his. Instinctively he placed his hand into her mess of hair and pulled her down even closer until they were chest to chest. Again their foreheads hovered close together as he began to take control.

It was her turn to watch him as he fucked up into her in an attempt to get them both off. Short, choked moans came from both of them as they got closer and closer. She could see the neediness behind those brown eyes of his. And she could feel it in the way he was holding onto her, his fingers digging into the skin of her ass.

Slipping a hand between them she began to work her clit in time with the way he was working into her and it made her breath catch in her throat. The sudden newness of the pressure against the bundle of nerves drove her closer to the edge. And he could feel it in the way she tightened around him so suddenly.

Again they locked eyes as he fucked into her a few more quick times before he felt her tighten against him. Her mouth fell open as she let out the most lust filled moan he’d ever heard. Which only egged him on more, thrusting into her at a punishing pace until he finally released inside of her. Her lips rested against his earlobe as she let out a few more soft, whiny moans while he slowly continued to work into her.

The two of them went at it like this for the next few hours until the sun began to creep into the room through the blinds. He held her close against his chest as they spoke in hushed tones as if someone could hear what they were saying. It took everything in him to finally make himself leave her. But he knew he needed to start home or else he’d have more missed phone calls on his cell.

She pulled the sheets up over chest while she watched him pull his jeans on and search for the shirt of his she’d pulled on earlier in the night. The way his muscles moved under his clothes only made her want to pull them off again but she knew he had to leave. He had a life somewhere else and she had a son she was missing more than she realized at that moment.

“Last night was,” EZ paused, trying to think of the right word to us.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic.  It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 16  (Calum Hood AU)

MY LIFE WAS a never-ending paradise.  For the first time in months, I woke up with a smile on my face that lasted until I fell asleep again that night.  Never had I experienced such tranquility, such persistent joy as I felt now.  It was nearly impossible to worry about anything, feel sad about anything.  Not when he was next to me, near me, with me.  Calum and I spent nearly every night together, our hands perpetually entangled, our bodies constantly connected.  We woke up together, went to bed together, spent the day dreaming about one another.  Being away from him, even for something I enjoyed like work or shopping with Hannah, became a nuisance.  I spent all my time thinking about him and the next time we could be together.

But the thing is, we weren’t together.  There was no label slapped onto whatever relationship we’d formed.  I didn’t consider him my boyfriend, and I certainly wasn’t his girlfriend.  We spent the nights together, and then when daylight came we were elusive lovers, dancing around each other so as not to alert the others.  Hannah I had told, of course.  She knew every detail of my affair with Calum, and squealed over how “romantic” it was.  I firmly told her there was nothing romantic or emotional about it; we were merely two adults sleeping together and having fun.

As for the guys, I’m sure they’d caught on to something.  Seeing me emerge from Calum’s room or him from mine was definitely a dead giveaway.  But when we were downstairs, Calum and I rarely interacted beyond hastened smiles and loaded glances.  Occasionally his hand would grace mine in the kitchen, reminding me of where his fingers had been the night before.  Just a single look from him sparked butterflies like I’d never known before, and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning.

When we were really at our best was when we slept together.  The chemistry our bodies shared was unparalleled, and I’d never experienced such passion with anyone before.  Calum knew my body like he’d spent his whole life mapping it out, knowing all my favorite places and secret spots.  I knew every curve of his back, every stretch of skin and cluster of moles.  We explored each other until nothing was foreign territory, every part of ourselves bared for the other to glimpse.  But we didn’t grow tired of each other; every night was a new discovery, the excitement never waning.  If I could, I’d spend the rest of my life in bed next to him, our bodies naked and pressing together.

Neither of us let emotions complicate things.  Despite my bold display of breaking up with Nick for him, I knew that was no indication of a deeper relationship with Calum.  We were barely even friends, as we didn’t hang out together outside of the bedroom.  And as for exclusivity, there wasn’t really any.  If a guy flirted with me at work, I flirted back.  I’m sure Calum did the same when he disappeared during the day.  For me, I knew I’d never consider sleeping with anyone else, but just the idea of having the option was comforting; exclusivity was suffocating, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin the carefree fun Calum and I were having.

His normally brooding, mean personality actually turned out to be different than I thought.  Calum’s sense of humor was dark, not mean.  He wasn’t brooding, just thinking hard.  Now I enjoyed his snarky remarks, the way he’d tease me with a smirk.  Things that used to infuriate me now fired me up, and I giggled at his scowls.  I hoped he felt the same about me, that I wasn’t annoying or stubborn but dedicated and organized.  Seeing a new perspective of him was refreshing, and I looked at him with hungry new eyes.  I couldn’t keep a smile off my face when I was with him, and I saw his usual smirk twist into a crooked grin.

One morning, I stood up out of bed a little earlier than normal.  After a long night in my room leaving us both blissfully exhausted, I wanted nothing more than to sleep all day, but I had something important to do.  I’d been in touch with an advisor at the local community college, and today we’d be meeting to discuss my possible enrollment.  I felt secure enough at the cafe to start planning to go back to school, and I was both nervous and thrilled about the upcoming discussion.  I hoped it would be seamless, an easy process that wouldn’t strain my nerves or my wallet.  Things were going so good lately, I would hate for something to ruin it.

Calum groaned from the bed, and naturally my lips spread into a smile.  I was fishing through my closet, wearing only panties and his tee shirt that I’d hastily put on to cover up.  It smelled like him, and I almost wished I could wear it to the meeting for good luck and comfort.  

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice gruff from sleep.  I glanced back and saw his ruffled hair and tired eyes.  He looked about ready to fall back to sleep, but when he looked over at me his eyebrows raised approvingly.  Clearly me in his shirt had pleasantly surprised him.

“I have an interview,” I explained, turning back to find the right clothes.  I wanted to look professional and mature, but not too stuffy.  After all, this was a community college, and my transcript spoke for itself.  I opted for a white skirt and matching blazer, then pulled a black turtleneck to wear underneath.  This was probably my nicest outfit, and I chewed my lip contemplating which heels to wear.

“Where at?”  Calum yawned and stretched his long arms, chest bare as the blankets fell around his waist.  I began to undress, pulling his shirt over my head so I could put on a bra.

“The community college,” I answered, but he seemed too distracted by my body to care.  I rolled my eyes as I hooked the bra clasp, shimmying into the skirt and fighting with the zipper.  Calum whistled as I stood only in the skirt and my bra, leaning on his forearm with a smirk.

“You expect me to let you leave looking like that?”  His suggestive tone made me flush, and I pulled the turtleneck over my head with a shy smile.

“I’m actually really nervous,” I admitted, fiddling with my hair and wondering how much makeup I’d need to cover the dark circles under my eyes.  Calum leaned back onto the disarrayed pillows that we’d strewn about during last night’s antics.

“You have no reason to worry, you’re like the smartest, most collegey person I’ve ever met.”  Although his eyes were closed and his tone was breezy, I took his words to heart.  It touched me that he saw me so highly, and for a second I wondered if this is what it felt like to have him as my boyfriend.  Someone supportive who helped me achieve my dreams, someone to come home to after a long day to unwind and just be with.

Shaking my head, I forced these thoughts out of my head.  Calum was not my boyfriend, and I didn’t want him to be.  He was just saying what I wanted to hear, and his voice was breezy because he didn’t really care.  Swiping on some mascara and enough concealer to brighten my complexion, I exhaled deeply.  You’ve got this.

Not wanting to seem clingy or overly invested, I simply stepped into my black heels and grabbed my bag, giving Calum a distracted goodbye before leaving him behind.  As I descended the stairs I missed him already, yearning for his touch and his gaze.   

Hannah caught me before I left, piece of toast in her hand as she hugged me, careful not to get crumbs on my crisp blazer.  

“You’re gonna kill it, Scar,” she declared.  “Seriously, this college is gonna be begging just to have you enroll.”

I nodded, letting her words give me some encouragement.  “I hope so.  I hope I’m not a desperate, fumbling mess.”

She straightened my blazer and flattened my hair with a smile.  “You don’t look like a mess from the outside.”  I gave her a grateful hug before hurrying out the door, making sure to get to the bus stop on time.  I’d contemplated asking Calum to drive me, since it was easier, but that approached boyfriend territory.  So instead, I took a seat on the crowded public bus and braced myself for the upcoming meeting.

The campus was smaller than my other school, but that was to be expected.  The groundskeepers clearly did their best trying to spruce up the boring landscape with sculpted bushes and brick paths.  The buildings were plain but architectural, with lots of windows and glass roofs.  For such a small, cramped college it could have been a lot worse.  I felt slightly embarrassed to be downgrading so much from the fancy university I’d previously attended, but then I reminded myself that a degree was a degree.

I found the building I was meant to be in and located the advisor’s office rather quickly.  A plump, kind-faced secretary told me Ms. Price would be with me in a few minutes, and I took a seat by a big window.  Some students were milling about below, and I imagined myself here.  Just the prospect of getting back to school was exciting, no matter where I went.  

Five minutes passed by in a flash, and then I was seated in front of Ms. Price herself, crossing my legs to fight off my nerves.  She was a middle-aged woman with short, wispy red hair and leathery skin.  I watched as her eyes scanned my records, glancing over the notes about my parents’ death and my subsequent bankruptcy, but all this information did was make her brows lift slightly.

Her unreadable expression deterred me, and for a second I panicked that she was going to reject me.  But then she snapped the file closed and laced her fingers together, thin lipstick-rimmed lips tilting into a polite smile.

“Well Miss Mercer, your transcript speaks for itself.”  I smiled slightly as she confirmed my earlier estimate.  “Your grades are immaculate, and I’m surprised you’re such a put-together young woman after everything you’ve been through.”

I smiled graciously.  “School was my motivation through it all, really.  I just want to get my life back on track, and that means finishing my degree.”

Ms. Price nodded.  “A wise decision.  An education will do you well later in life.  I assume you have a career path laid out for yourself?”

“Yes, I’d like to become a social worker.  My degree is in psychology, but I have a focus in counseling.”  Bringing up my future goals reminded me how desperately I wanted to achieve them.  Even though my fling with Calum was fun, I also wanted my professional life to start as soon as possible so I could settle down.  

Sifting through a few papers and peering over her glasses, Ms. Price was quiet for a moment.  I took her long pauses to just be results of her no-nonsense, blatant disposition.  She wasn’t going to shower me in praise, which was fine.  All I needed was confirmation of my enrollment.

Finally, she said, “You have your finances in order?  Community college is less expensive, but still an expense all the same.”

I nodded.  “Yes, I have a steady job that should help me pay for it.”  I could even afford to move out with Hannah, if I wanted to, but that was still a huge proposition that I was not all that inclined to take. 

Ms. Price gave a final nod of her head, and set down the papers in her hand.  “Well then, Miss Mercer, I don’t see why we can’t admit you for the next semester.”

Pure jubilation flooded through me, and I tried to keep my wild grin contained and professional.  Reaching out to shake her hand, I thanked Ms. Price profusely.  “This means the world to me, ma’am, truly.  I won’t let you or the college down.”

My exuberance must have cracked her resolve a little, because she gave me an amused expression.  “I’m quite sure of it, dear.”

It was all I could do not to skip out of the office.  I felt on top of the world, and I whipped my phone out to spread the good news.  For a second my finger hovered over Calum’s number, and I wished I could call him up to gush about my success.  But then I kept scrolling and called Hannah instead.  She picked up instantly and I practically screamed the news at her, causing her to scream herself.  I wandered through campus with a stupid smile on my face, rushing my words as I tried to articulate my excitement.

“We have to celebrate tonight,” I insisted.  “After my shift, we should do something.”

“Totally,” Hannah confirmed.  “I’ll rally the troops.”

I hung up and sighed, thinking about how I would celebrate with Calum specifically.  I let the stupid grin shine on my face as I stared up at the bright sky.  Things were better than good right now; they were damn near perfect.

- - - - -

Roger gave me the biggest hug I’d ever received when I told him about getting into community college, and even Mack emerged from the back room to congratulate me.  He jokingly warned me not to prioritize school work over my work here, and I vowed nothing would ever be more important than making coffee.  I also filled Roger in on my recent activities with Calum, and he swooned with each story.  Roger insisted we were made for each other and needed to just get married already, and I always waved him off.  That comment was too close to Hannah’s soulmate explanation, and I refused to get my hopes up.

The shift ended quickly, thankfully.  I was so excited about the night out that time seemed to fly by unusually fast.  I sprinted home and burst through the door, finding Hannah in the kitchen and giving her a tight hug.

She pulled back and pretended to get choked up.  “I’m just so proud,” she said emotionally, wiping an invisible tear from her eye.  “My little girl off to college--again.”  We laughed, and I tentatively smiled at Luke over her shoulder.  He shot me a thumbs up, and my anxiety lessened.  I think I was finally back to normal with Luke and Michael after a rocky few weeks, and I was grateful.  I loved them as friends, and wanted to celebrate as a group.

I was surprised to see Ashton in the living room, and even he managed to offer up a sincere congratulations.  I sent Hannah a glance, full of wordless questions that she pursed her lips at.  One tilt of her head towards the basement told me she’d fill me in later.

“So, are you joining us tonight?” I asked Ashton after the excitement over my news died down.  “You’re more than welcome to come, I want everyone to have a good time.”

Ashton nodded, not looking at Hannah.  “Yeah, should be fun.”

I followed Hannah downstairs to start getting ready, throwing off my blazer before crossing my arms with an expectant look.  “Well?  When the hell were you gonna tell me about Ashton?”

Hannah fell onto the pullout bed from the couch, shrugging with a small smile.  “There’s nothing to tell, really.  We...talked, recently.  Decided to be civil.”  She shrugged again.  “I don’t know if it’ll ever be the same, but at least now we can be in the same room again.”

I knew she was secretly overjoyed at being on speaking terms with Ashton again, but it was smart not to get her hopes up.  We had both worked on this, now careful and cautious instead of overly optimistic.  We got ready to go out together, curling each other’s hair and critiquing outfits.  The dress I wanted to wear was up in my room, so I padded upstairs with my hair and makeup done.

Emerging into my room, I saw the bed had been sloppily made and the pillows rearranged.  I smiled; it was a thoughtful gesture from Calum.  I slid the white skirt down my legs, tossing off the turtleneck and breathing in relief as the restricting fabric was finally off.  I found the dress I’d been searching for, pulling it out triumphantly.  It was made of a royal blue crushed velvet material that hugged my body perfectly.  I’d bought it recently with Hannah, and was excited to show it off tonight.  I hoped one person in particular noticed it, or more importantly how good I looked in it.

As I fumbled with the zipper, there was a knock at my door.  Calum peered in, and I smiled.  “Perfect, get over here.  I need your help.”

He shut the door behind him, taking in my appearance as he approached.  I turned around so he could reach the zipper, inhaling sharply as I felt his fingers at the base of my back.  He stood very close to me, breath washing over my neck as he gently pulled the zipper up.  His knuckles grazed my exposed skin as the dress began to cover it, and when he finished he ghosted his fingers across my shoulder and down my arm.

“I heard the news,” he murmured into my ear.  “Congratulations.”  I turned to face him, resting a hand on his chest.  His brown eyes sparked slightly, and his full lips were upturned in a small smirk.  I leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, and I felt him smile into my mouth.  Just like always, heat spread out from our point of contact, and I felt my fingers tangle into his curls.  His large hands cupped around my waist, pulling me close until I broke the kiss off.

“This is new,” I commented, running my fingers over the army green fabric of his bomber jacket.  The color complimented him well and I admired the way it fit his broad shoulders.  

He rolled his eyes at my obvious ogling.  “I do go shopping, you know.”

I laughed.  “Really?  Most of your tee shirts have holes in them.”

Calum’s smirk transformed into a smile, making the butterflies flutter in my stomach.  “You don’t seem to mind the holes when you’re wearing them,” he said darkly, and I felt a familiar heat building in my stomach.  I gave him another kiss, dragging this one out slightly longer.

“Maybe I could wear one later tonight,” I suggested, hinting at another round of late-night antics.  Calum snorted, squeezing my bum lightly.

“You can’t tease me like this when we’re at the club, you know,” he informed me, and I sighed.

“Fine.  I guess I’ll save all the teasing for after, then.”  At my seductive wink, he groaned, and I ducked away from his attempt at a kiss, giggling at his frown.  We joined the others downstairs, and I saw Hannah and Ashton awkwardly standing next to each other.  Hannah’s shoulders were stiff due to their proximity, but even with her tight posture she still looked good in her blush pink dress.  Ashton was clearly trying not to look at his ex in such a short dress, and cleared his throat when Calum and I entered.

“Can we go, already?  I’ll drive Luke and Scarlett, you take Michael and Hannah.”  Ashton signaled to Calum, who nodded curtly.  Already our bodies naturally drifted away from one another like they always did in public.  I didn’t mind riding separately since we weren’t supposed to be dating and the guys thought we didn’t care.  I watched Calum head for his mustang and already missed his warmth, but pushed away this feeling as I climbed into Ashton’s car.

I chatted with Luke about our shifts at work, me relaying a story about a crabby customer and him complaining about his boss.  Ashton chimed in every now and then, which I appreciated.  I really did like Ashton, despite being on Hannah’s side in their civil war.  I just hoped he would forgive her soon, because I knew how much she was still hurting.

We tried out a new club tonight, this one bigger and grander than the ones we’d previously been to.  It was mobbed, and I had to hold Hannah’s hand to keep from losing track of her.  I wanted Calum to grab my hand too, but didn’t let the disappointment get to me that much when he didn’t.

Michael ordered a round of shots and dedicated a toast in my honor.  We all knocked back a shot and I felt the fiery liquid blaze down my throat.  I managed not to cough, and instead grabbed another.  Calum was to my left, and he watched me take a second shot with sparkling eyes.

“Easy, killer.  I don’t want to have to carry you home.”  He was joking, but his hooded eyes gave me a different impression.  I could tell he was savoring my appearance under the roving lights, watching me down shots and smile carelessly.  I licked my lips, tasting a hint of alcohol, and gave him a coy wink.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I purred, causing his jaw to clench.  “But for now, I’m gonna go dance.”  I knew Calum wasn’t a fan of dancing, but I knew watching me from a distance would kill him.  I grabbed Hannah’s hand and wove through the crowd until we found a good spot on the dance floor.  Hannah threw her arms around my neck with a grin, and we danced to the loud remix playing over the thundering speakers.  Our hips swayed and our feet jumped, throwing our hair back as we let ourselves succumb to the night.

I felt multiple pairs of eyes on us, and glanced around to check who was looking.  To my surprise, Ashton had his eyes glued on Hannah, and I whispered this in her ear.  Immediately, a stupid grin spread onto her face as she let out a laugh.

Calum was also watching me, but his eyes were much darker than Ashton’s.  His fingers were tight around a scotch glass, and his tense posture told me everything I needed to know.  He wanted me, and the distance between us was driving him crazy.

With an evil grin, I told Hannah I’d be right back and began to move toward the bathroom.  Without even looking I knew Calum was following me, and my grin only widened when we both entered the small bathroom alone.  The click of the door locking made the hair on my neck stand up, and I sat back against the sink.  Calum stayed by the door, brows low over his eyes as he smirked at me under the dim lighting.

I shook my head, making a tsk tsk sound.  “For someone who’s trying to keep our fling under wraps, you sure can’t keep your eyes off of me.”  I knew mocking him was dangerous, but I loved making him squirm.

Calum pushed off the door and came closer to me, hands sliding up my sides as he sighed.  “What can I say?  Seeing you like this does things to me.”

He leaned in to kiss my neck, and I let my eyes close as I exhaled in bliss.  He sucked at a point below my ear, causing my hands to grip at his biceps.  I angled my lips toward his ear, whispering, “And what things would that be, exactly?”

I heard a small groan rumble in his throat, and he pulled back to meet my devilish eyes.  His fingers closed around my wrist, pulling my hand down his front all the way to his pants.  I felt the mound growing there, grinning as he sucked in a breath when I pressed against it gently.

“Ah,” I responded.  “That thing.”  I lifted off of the sink and used one hand to push Calum back until he was against the far wall.  His breathing was hard, brow furrowed in slight confusion as he anticipated what I would do.  Grinning, I took his ear lobe gently between my teeth and tugged, eliciting another groan.

My hands, now experts at working his belts, toyed with the buckle until it released.  I then undid the button of his jeans, leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jaw as I did this.  I placed a chaste kiss on his lips before looking through my lashes into his eyes, dropping to my knees and causing his eyes to spark with lust.

Delicately, I pushed his jeans aside and revealed his straining boxers, smiling slightly as I kissed down his stomach and gradually bringing my lips lower.  I pulled the elastic band down, revealing a soft trail of hair before running my hand along the smooth skin, springing his erection free.  I admired his long, stiff length, touching my fingers ever so slightly to the warm skin.  Gently grabbing hold of it and bringing it towards my lips, I let a warm breath wash over the throbbing tip.

Calum groaned at the sensation, and when I glanced up I saw his eyes were shut with pleasure.  I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, feeling it twitch with excitement.  Leaning down, I slid my tongue up the side of his shaft, earning a muted growl of satisfaction.  Reaching the tip, I closed my lips around the head of his cock, beginning to swirl my tongue around the warm skin.  

“Shit,” Calum breathed when he felt my mouth on him.  His hands wrapped into my hair as I sank my mouth lower onto him, taking as much of him as I could.  He hit the back of my throat, and his hiss echoed in my ears as I used my hands to work the part I couldn’t reach.

I dragged his cock in and out of my mouth, tongue massaging as I went.  My lips formed a tight O around him as I moved my lips, bobbing my head rhythmically.  Carefully I used my tongue to lick at his slit, and his hips bucked forcefully.  Grinning, I pulled him out of my mouth and used my hand for a second, licking around his tip teasingly.

“Holy--” Calum started, gripping my hair tighter.  His cock was rigid and trembling now, telling me he was close to finishing.  I licked the flat of my tongue back up his length, then took all of him in my mouth once again.  I moved faster this time, focusing on getting as much of him as I could.  Swear words echoed in my ears as he unwound above me, fist banging against the wall to keep from moaning too loudly.

I pushed him against my throat particularly hard, and when I heard his strangled cry I knew he had been pushed over the edge.  His cock twitched in my mouth, shooting out a sticky liquid that I promptly swallowed.  I slowly took him out of my mouth, kissing his swollen tip before rising off of my knees.

Without hesitating, Calum smashed his lips to mine, not caring where I’d just been.  He kissed me with a fervor, and I felt waves of gratitude rolling off of him.  I grinned into the kiss, happy to have pleased him so much.  When he pulled away to redo his belt, I sucked at his neck and kept my hand on the side of his face.

He caught my eye and smirked at my triumphant expression.  “You’re evil,” he growled, squeezing my hips and earning a chuckle from me.  I pushed at a bit of hair that covered his forehead, marveling in his spectacular brown eyes.

“Only for you, baby,” I drawled.  The smirk on my face faded as I saw something flash across his face.  It was there for only a brief instant, but I saw the change nonetheless.  His lust-filled eyes had warmed for a second, his expression more than just pleased that I’d gone down on him.  The way he held me in his arms communicated more than he would ever say, and when his lips parted my heart stopped.

“We should go.”

Those were not the three words I was expecting.  Anger at myself and humiliation at getting so excited over nothing pricked at my mind, and I couldn’t help but frown.  What was I thinking?  What about this situation was romantic?  It was dirty, and hot, and definitely more than a little bit fun.  But that’s all it was; I shouldn’t have been so stupid to look deeper into it. 

He kissed me one last time before taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom, and when he faced away I dropped my fake smile and took a shaky breath.  

Calum and I separated for the rest of the night, like we normally did.  We both tried to appear nonchalant, coming up with different excuses for where had just been.  I danced with Hannah more, giggling when Luke and Ashton joined us.  I danced with Luke while I spied on Ashton and Hannah, who were closer to each other than they’d been in weeks.  Ashton’s hands were awkward on her hips, careful not to roam, and she looked stiff beside him.  But I also detected a bit of optimism in her eyes when she gazed up at him, and I prayed he didn’t break her heart again.

When it was time to leave, I rode home with Calum this time.  Hannah had asked me to switch in a hushed voice, and reading her wide eyes I knew she’d had a decent night.  I was glad to switch, since it meant more time with Calum.  I refused to let my slip up in the bathroom shake me, and instead met Calum’s eyes in his rear view mirror as Michael drunkenly explained something I couldn’t quite make out.  Calum’s eyes were light and joking, and he pretended to nod along with Michael’s story.  I leaned against the window and stared out at the dark night sky, pleasantly buzzed and positively exhausted.

It was no surprise when Calum and I went into the same room.  Tonight it was his, since we’d stayed in mine the night before.  We didn’t have a set routine, but we were so in sync we did the same thing anyway.  He helped me unzip my dress, once again igniting sparks where his fingers touched.  Neither of us had enough energy to do anything but sleep, and my eyes were already heavy.

As Calum pulled on sweatpants, his top half bare like usual, he tossed me one of his shirts.  I caught it with deft hands and smiled, gladly diving into the dark fabric and inhaling the scent of him.  His open arms invited me into bed as I crawled across the mattress, sighing into his skin and resting my head on his chest.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said after a few minutes of quiet.  It was dark, and I could barely make out the tattoos on his skin.  I smiled drowsily.

“Anytime.”

I could sense he wasn’t ready to go to bed yet, and shifted so I was looking at him.  Even in the dim lighting I knew exactly what his face looked like, the angle of his jaw and the curve of his mouth.  I reached a finger out to trace his lips, enjoying his soft breath on my hand.

“What are you going to do in the future?  You know, after college?”  I was surprised at his question, and my finger stalled in its movement.  I felt his lips purse into the pad of my index finger, the gesture causing an odd squeeze of my heart.

I rolled over to lay next to him, hand spread out across his abdomen.  “I would have said find a job, buy a house, settle down.”  I fidgeted with the ends of my hair, staring up at the black ceiling.

“‘Would have’?” Calum repeated, and I could hear the frown in his voice.  “You don’t want to do that now?”

I shrugged, my shoulder brushing his.  “I don’t know.  I used to have all these plans, I swear I knew exactly what I was gonna do down to the week.”  I paused, remembering the old me who used to love writing in her planner.  “And then my parents died and I left school.  It seemed like life was telling me to stop making plans and just...live, you know?”

I wished I could see his face, gauge his reaction.  All I heard was a small sigh.  “I hate planning,” he replied.  “It just opens up more opportunities to be disappointed.”

Surprisingly, this made a lot of sense to me.  The dejection I felt whenever a plan fell through was tiring, and lately it seemed that was all that was happening.  Without any expectations, I couldn’t be hurt when they didn’t work out.  I realized Calum’s carefree attitude inspired this change in me; he opened my eyes to a different lifestyle, one I found myself enjoying.  It was nice not knowing what we were, not having to conform to any boundaries or boxes.  We could just be, whatever and whenever we wanted.  

Laying beside him, our hearts beating in tune and our bodies in perfect harmony, I curled into his side and he draped an arm around me.  I buried myself as deep into him as I could, closing my eyes as another realization hit me: maybe Calum wasn’t the one in love.  Maybe it was me.

[ladykatibeth]

“Missing”

Fandom: Sander Sides

Rating: Teen for swearing

Summary:The crown prince of the kingdoms goes on a quest to find his brother, meanwhile a famers kid meets up with a friend.

A/N: Will be continued,if you want to feel free to ask questions about the characters! I have my inbox open. Feel free to reblog.

Remus was Missing.

Remus was missing and Roman didn’t know where he was. Remus was missing, and he was gone for good this time, and Roman didn’t know what to do.

Remus was missing--his twin was missing. His twin was missing, Remus was--

Roman should have done something, noticed sooner. Or even noticed at all. Remus had always been loud, obnoxiously loud, Roman had remarked a couple of times. Remus had been a bit quieter than usual, the past week. But Remus had always had his ups and downs, despite what it might have seemed Remus couldn’t keep up his high energy forever. Every once in a while he ended up crashing.

Roman should have known though. Should have picked it out. Should have noticed. But he had been so busy last week. Well, busier than usual. There's always lessons, boring parties where adults talked about stupid things, and other such duties. But that week he had been preparing to do a speech, anxiously prepping and preparing. He had been so stressed, being crown prince was no easy task, honestly sometimes he just wanted to get away.

Maybe that's why Remus left.

Maybe that's why Remus left.

Maybe--

Roman could feel his breath hitch in his throat, his eyes were wet, why was he crying? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Roman felt a hand on his shoulder. He tensed as he suddenly remembered where he was. His hands were gripping the bed. The breath slowly returned to his lungs, maybe he had been cursed. Cursed by some breath stealing fairy. That would actually be a good idea for a story, he’d have to return to that later.

“Roman?” Right. Later. He looked up to see Logan looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face. Roman could almost find it in himself to smile. Logan would know what to do. Logan always knew what to do.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look like I'm okay?” Roman threw his arms around, nearly hitting Logan, who had started to sit down next to Roman.

Logan frowned. “I don't understand, you and I both know disappearing is not out of the realm of your brother's usual behavior. He runs off somewhere, every third week.” His frown deepened. “You both do, actually, no matter how hard I try to stop you.”

Logan had become Roman and Remus’s court companion, by nature of being literally the only other child that lived in the castle. The title wasn't exactly official, but that's what everyone had taken to calling him, almost affectionately. And Logan did the job as best as he could. Making sure neither one of them got themselves killed.

Logan also happened to be the son of Roman and Remus’s tutor. He excelled in almost everything, math, science, geography even English, though he struggled with the metaphors. Out of the three of them, Logan had always gotten the best scores. Roman might have called it favoritism if he didn’t know Logan so well.

Roman passed Logan the note he held crumpled up in his hand. In his despair he had almost forgotten it had been there. Logan carefully read over the material, his face changing only slightly, so slightly Roman wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't known what to look for. He squinted adjusting his glasses.

Of course, knowing what was in the letter himself helped. Roman had reread it over and over again, after finding it on his nightstand that morning.

Ro,

I'm leaving. For good this time. Don’t blame yourself, don't try to come after me, because I don’t want to come back. I don't know what I'll do next, maybe become a pirate? Or live in the woods in a cave,like a bear, and run around naked and eat wild plants! Who knows. I’ll decide later. Anyway, I’ll write to you if I find a way to from wherever I’m going. Say goodbye to Lo for me.

Ps. Don't show this to Mom.You know she’ll come after me.

Pps. If you show this to Mom I'll come back to the castle and bludgeon you. I am not above fratricide.

Roman had quickly hid that note under his pillow. And then he pulled it out to read it again, before sticking it back. He had been doing that all morning. He had at first felt angry, how dare he leave him to do this by himself, that hadn’t been the plan! That's what twins were for! So you didn't have to do things like stealing cookies from cooks, or running kingdoms, alone!

So that was that then. His brother was gone, he left, purposefully disappeared. Roman was going to tackle him if he found him. When he found him. Determination flooded into him.

Logan looked up at him. Probably seeing something in his eyes, he said “You’re going to go try to find him.” He looked at him disapprovingly.

Shit.

“I have to--!” Roman said. Roman drew short, and quickly looked around. He lowered his voice, “I'm going, and you can’t stop me!” Logan glared at him.

Roman glared back, harder. Logan maintained his gaze for a second then looked away, sighing. “Fine, then, I will accompany you.”

“You don't have to-” Roman said. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I know I don't have to.” He walked over to Roman’s closet and grabbed a bag. “Pack some clothes, I’ll make a list of things we need, and draft a plan.” He placed the bag down next to Roman.

For the first time today Roman smiled. He could almost taste the adventure coming up on the horizon.

-----

Patton couldn’t wait to see his friend! He had said they could meet up today. Patton was so excited he sped through his chores. And boy, there were a lot!

Not that Patton ever really minded that much. He loved the animals on the farm. And he liked getting up early, and getting to watch the sun rise. The only problem was that he had finished too early. By the time he had gotten back it was already twelve O’clock and he still had two more hours to wait.

It was currently 1:30. He still had thirty minutes to wait, but his friend was rarely on time. Sometimes he came early, but mostly he came “fashionably” late as he had called it once. Patton had laughed.

Patton was sitting by the edge of the forest, near his house. The grass underneath Patton's hands was soft, and the sun shone brightly through the trees. The wind felt breezy, tousling through his hair. Patton giggled.

Patton's thoughts wandered to when he met his friend. It was almost a year ago, Patton had been playing around near the woods. His mama had told him to never to go in them. So Patton stayed around them, sure to never get too close to the trees. But Patton had thought he heard crying.

At first he was able to convince himself it was nothing, just the wind rustling through the trees, but the sound grew louder until it could not be classified as anything but sobbing. All thoughts of getting in trouble fled him. Someone was hurting, he needed to help them.

He had wandered slowly into the woods, holding his breath. Barely making a sound. He walked on the path, trying to listen from where he thought he had heard the sound. If somebody was hurt he had to help. Nevermind the fear slowly creeping up his spine.

As he journeyed farther and farther into the woods, the volume of the crying would cycle. Just as he thought he was about to reach the person, it would decrease again. Patton was just starting to think that he’d been tricked when he heard movement in the trees.

He turned around.

Nobody was there.

He slowly turned forward.

A snake was hanging down from the tree, right by him. Patton screamed. He fell backwards and froze. The black and yellow snake drew up close to him. So close he could see the wrinkly outline of its scales. Its eyes were cat-like. The snake's head nodded to the side, an expression that, on a human, would certainly be read as amused curiosity.

Patton got up and ran.

He could feel air rushing past him. He was running on autopilot, passing through trees and ducking under vines. Low hanging branches and thorny bushes nicked at his skin. He nearly avoided tripping over a couple of twigs and branches. He slowed down to a light jog, before stopping and sitting on a log to catch his breath. Patton looked around.

Nothing looked familiar. Patton thought he had come out from his left side. He walked back that way. Trying to go the way he remembered coming from, turning left and right. Just as he thought he would never make it out of these woods, he saw light. Light! Patton ran toward it.

Only to find himself back in the same place he started.

He tried again, and again, changing directions, taking lefts where last time he took rights. But every time he found himself in the same place. It didn't help that the tree markers seemed to flip and change randomly. And Patton couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. “Why cant you just leaf me alone?” He tried to joke, but his punning fell flat.

He sat back down on his log, and started to cry.

He heard something move in the trees. His breath hitched, and he looked up. A boy about his age was sitting on a branch and looking down at him, lazily dangling a leg off the side of the tree.

His clothes were dark. Pretty fancy for the woods, Patton thought. The boy had a button down shirt, and a cloak wrapped around him. He had yellow gloves, and a hat Patton had never seen before. Patton thought he looked like a storybook villain.

“Crying is, absolutely, one of the best, most productive, responses one could have to getting lost in the woods.” Patton whipped his face with his sleeve. That was kind of a mean thing for him to say.

“Hello!” Patton said, trying to make himself seem happier than he felt. “My name is Patton!”

The boy looked sharply down at him and hissed a half-whisper, “Could you be any louder? I’d love for you to make it known to the whole world that I’m up here!”

Patton frowned. This convo wasn’t going well at all. He pushed forward, and half-whispered “Sorry, it's nice to meet you, what's your name?”

The boy tipped his hat. “You can call me Deceit.” They sat in silence for a minute.

“Well…” Patton began.

“Well?” Deceit said.

“Well, It's just, I'm kinda lost….”Patton trailed off.

“Clearly.”

“And you seem to know these woods a bit…..” Deceit’s expression didn’t change.

“So maybe,” Patton paused, “Maybe you could help me out?” The end of his statement went high.

Deceit must have seen the desperation on his face. Because he said, “Look, I'm not in the habit of doing favors for people, but I am willing to make an exchange.”

Patton gasped. A snake had appeared where Deceit once was. It slithered up the branch and down the tree. As soon as the snake hit the ground, Deceit reappeared.

So he was the one that scared him earlier!

“Here's the deal, I will help you home, if you agree to do me a favor.” Deceit held out his hand to shake it. Patton reached for it, automatically. Stopping just short of shaking it.

“Wait.” Patton had said tilting his head curiously “What favor?”

“You’ll know it when the time comes.” Patton hesitated for a moment, and then stood up and shook Deceits hand.

And in the end that had turned out to be a great decision! Patton had gotten a new friend! A friend that was running towards him right now. Now that’s a bit weird. Deceit doesn't runs, he just slithers all over the place. Patton giggled a bit at the joke.

His smile became tented with concern when he noticed Deceit had a look of panic on his face. Patton grabbed him by the arms. “Hey, hey, what's the matter, kiddo?”

“Patton, you have to hide me!” Deceit said.

[lligato]

Hey

I remember when I joined that party and you were there. I was invited by a friend because he said we got bitches and mad guys to play games with and I figured it was a good way to interact with people. I joined and I met you. I didn’t know who you were or what you did. All I knew was that we were two strangers that might become friends. We did become…more than just friends. You invited me to hang out with you and our friend to eat and I was happy. It was the first time that ever happened to me. I went and when I saw you I said to myself, “Wow, she looks really nice.” We ate and hung out and it was all normal. I never expected anything more.

Time passed and we got closer, closer to the point where it became us two doing things mainly. We played, we talked, we did a lot of things together. It scared me how much we were alike, it wasn’t a bad scared but more like, “Man, we’re really so stupid scared.” And it all started when I met your friend. The way he treated you made me upset and jealous. Why? I didn’t like you or anything... or did I? It upset me how he treated you vs how he treated me. I was always second when it came to him. And that’s what I started believing. He was your friend that you knew longer of course I was second or third or fourth or fifth etc. I couldn’t be the first because I was never the first. But you had to say it. You had to tell me you liked me. After that I believed everything you told me. I wanted to make you the happiest girl in the world. I took you out on dates, a bought you food and you kissed me first simply because I was afraid to make the first move. I realized that I had some intense feelings for you and you told me the same thing. I thought I could make you happy but I felt like I couldn’t. You trusted me with your past and I felt like it was my responsibilty to fix that broken heart of yours. I became selfish believing that I should be the only one to make you happy. That I wouldn’t hurt you or make you go through what you went through in the past. I did this without asking you and I realize now, that’s why I’m the worst. And then everything changed.

I went months without talking to you and you didn’t talk to me. Out of everything I did, you left in a heartbeat. I felt hurt and betrayed and truly wanted to forget you. But some part of me didn’t, some part of me thought that it wasn’t fair. How could it end just like that? There was nothing that built up to the conclusion. It just happened. And then you messaged me. Apologized for what had happened and wanted to take the blame for yourself. I should have let you in all honesty. But it really was my fault too because from the start I knew being with you wasn’t gonna be easy. But I did it because I wanted to. After catching up we decided to hang out here and there, talk and reminiscing about what we did before. But some part of me didn’t like it. Not the hanging out but the part where acted we were really fine. Which is why that one cold, chilly, and breezy day. That day I bought you McDonald’s and we ate outside that my hands were freezing. That day where you brought me inside to your house and tried warming my hands with yours. That day I wanted to confirm whether we actually loved each other still.

That day while you had my hands in yours, I pulled you close to me and I kissed you. The warmth of your lips was something that I missed. The feeling of my heart beating so fast that it almost bursted through my chest every time my face was near yours. I kissed you with the intention of getting slapped and told to leave. But instead it was the opposite. You grabbed on to me and I held on to you harder. Rubbing my cold hands on your warm soft back. You didn’t hate it, if anything you didn’t want me to stop. I thought you wanted me to leave but instead you wanted me to stay. I kissed you in that hallway with the intent of making you mine. But, I couldn’t stay. But I knew how you felt about me. That the way I felt about you was justified.

Everything sort if went back to normal but stuff had changed between us. One thing was we became more intimate, very intimate. I gave you my first and haven’t and won’t regret giving it you. I would lie if I said we didn’t do it a lot. Because we certainly did. That one night that is only referred to as “That Night” by far was one of the best nights of my life. I didn’t think I could do what we did that night and I wished I could relive again for the first time.

I think the closer we got the more attached I got to you. But was the issue, I again wanted to be that guy to protect you and make sure you didn’t go through what you want before. I wanted to be that guy the one you can depend on and make you think you didn’t need another guy. I loved you so much that I was willing to do anything to make sure that you can depend on me. And then you left again. But this time I knew. And this hurt more than when you left out of the blue.

I got upset. I got angry. I got depressed. The one person that I loved, the one I visited plenty of days, the one I talked to everyday from sunrise to sundown. All of that stopped. And I couldn’t do anything. I had to accept that you moved on and that I really couldn’t be there anymore. I’m devastated. How can I accept this? How can I be fine with this? Right when I thought I got closer to you you ended up getting farther from me. How can I be fine when I promised to do so much things for you but I couldn’t give you anything and you’re doing better over there than when you were with me? You just said all of those things didn’t you? Wait, I’m doing it again. I’m being selfish again aren’t I? Yeah, I am. How do you feel? I don’t care because you’re having fun and it’s not because of me. You’re doing better without me so it’s fine for you isn’t it. C’mon man, are you kidding me? Your told me you loved me still, that you missed are banters, you missed being with me. It was hard for you too wasn’t it? While it seems you are better than I, you do miss us don’t you? At least I still hope you do.

I realized the type of person I was and still am. I’m a toxic and manipulative person. I say this sad sap shit for you to feel bad for me only for me to tell you it’s not your fault it’s mine. I’m full of shit.

I can’t justify the resentment I had for you. You told me I was your first this or that but i never felt that way. You call me your bestfriend but i feel like I’m not even close. You told me I made you fee things yiu never felt before but I believed someone else could do better. You tell me you trust me but I feel like I have to try to get you to talk to me. I feel as if I have to try to understand you even though when I first met you I didn’t have to. Why do I feel like this? You don’t deserve this, this selfish sad sap piece of shit who’s always gonna say something because he’s upset that you’re doing better without him. But why am I like this?

Is it because growing up I had friends but didn’t have them? People I can talk to but never hang out with? I had this friend I knew since first grade and we were close. Here comes someone else that you don’t know but you invite me to your house, you invite him to your parties, to your trips... why wasn’t I invited. Why wasn’t I asked to hang out and if I was, why was I the last choice? “Hey, x, x and x are hanging out with me, you want to join us?” “Oh, I’m pretty busy, sorry.”

I wasn’t busy. I’m never busy. I’m always hoping someone thinks of me first but it never happens. I gave people money, I bought them food, I let some make fun of me. I did all of this because I didn’t want to become forgotten. I tried so hard to get people to like me that it put me in places I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to be side lined after all I did. I wanted to make people believe I can be useful. I guess that’s why I try so hard for you.

I guess that’s why when it comes to you I get upset that you enjoy your life with out me being there because I feel you can forget me in an instant. I know you don’t need me, I know you can do what you want. I can’t tell you what to do. I hurt myself by thinking and hoping that I could be the only single special person in your life. When I met you I didn’t have to try to get you to accept me because you already did. Which is why I tried so so hard to be that one guy. Just that one. That one guy that can see you the most vulnerable you can possibly ever be but it won’t happen and I’m just clinging on to something that won’t happen.

I’m pretty pathetic aren’t I? You say that you don’t deserve me, but I don’t deserve you. The way you have me head over head for you I don’t deserve that. Someone that can take care of you, be there for you whenever you need them deserves you. You said that meeting me was one of the best things that could have happen to you. Even if it was hard from the start:

Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for being manipulative. I’m sorry for doing the one thing I said I won’t do and that was hurt you. I don’t want to stop talking to you. I want to talk to you for as long as I live. I want you to be part of my life no matter how big or small. I want you there. I just hope that I stay in yours too.

[psalloacappella]

Sirens - Ch 4

Title: Sirens Pairing: SasuSaku obv Chapter:  IV / Ao3 | FF Additional Details: AU verse; Sakura isn’t here to be saved, but she also has a lot of secrets; Sasuke has daddy issues; always hot mess express

.

.

“I assumed you would be picking me up from a station one day,” he says. Hates himself for the heat in his face that seems to crop up only in conversation with her.

With a wry smile, she responds, “So we’re both very lucky little delinquents.”

.

.

On the 28th day after they’ve met, she calls him from a police station.

On an unassuming Friday evening in which the bar is quite busy and all three of them are running ragged — well, Shikamaru is in the back office plodding through routine tasks even though Sasuke bestows his signature, smoldering, get your smoking lazy ass in the front look, pointed and serious, which does nothing to ward off the women lingering and coiling like clingy plant tendrils, hoping for a second of his time. By mere virtue of his pretty face, he’s left to the night wolves.

Naruto, sidetracked and distracted from bartending by a loquacious brunette with hair in two buns and blunt-cut bangs, hears it first.

Completing her drink full of gin as sharp as the flashy knives she’s rolled in with, he places an orange peel in it with a flourish and gives her a nervous, dangling half-smile. Cute, but her hobby is definitely one for someone more adventurous and decidedly not for him. Still, her grin suggests a gentler side and as he slides the cocktail to her, he reflects perhaps it’s something he can overlook.

“Thanks,” she says. “And keep it open; my friends and I just arrived.”

“No problem,” he responds, preparing to move on to the next.

“Ah, one thing . . .” Her eyes, a color in between hazy shades of silver and hazel, beckon him closer. Naruto inclines his head and leans in to hear her against the noise.

“I have to ask, who is he?”

Nods her chin at Sasuke, who hands off the next drink with the most minute, fleeting smile he can bestow, more of a movement of the head than any actual friendliness. There’s always an easy grace about him and frankly, paired with his looks, it’s infuriating to Naruto how a person can be given such tall, dark, and handsome sexuality and miserably fail to wield it.

A quiet chuckle, and he whispers, “A bastard, honestly.”

Interpreting it as a joke, she giggles.

“Seriously, he’s just complicated. You’re welcome to try, though.”

Lifting the cocktail and pinning a napkin to the perspiring glass with her fingernails, she winks and disappears into the crowd.

Naruto then hears what he thought he had before but shook off as his imagination — the ringing of a phone sounding not like the stock default tone of a mobile but the staid ring of importance, belonging to a lawyer’s desk or doctor’s office. Not the one in his pocket, but the one on the wall that hardly ever makes a sound and overall, hasn’t been used in any useful capacity since a month ago.

It rings longer than it should; he wonders if they have voicemail. That’s definitely a Sasuke question. He’s drawn to the unusual event and though he’s unable to put a finger on it, there’s an air of happenstance and fate. Put that way, it sounds like he’s crazy or clairvoyant.

Frowning, he puts up a finger to the next patron crowding the bar and says, “Be right with ya.”

Sasuke of course hears it too, though he’s currently drowning in a deluge of women who likely already have drinks in their hands but are eager to talk to him longer than necessary. If the bland expressions of disinterest, slivers between each interaction, aren’t enough indication, perhaps the kind but firm manner in which he ignores the flirting and lingering touches as they connect to exchange liquor and money is; the inquiries glossed with a breezy veneer but trying to gain a foothold on what he considers inappropriate topics and details. Glaring at Naruto over his shoulder, who’s treating this unanticipated phone call with more solemnity than he’s ever offered anything else in his life, he savagely wishes he had picked it up instead if only to get away.

They meet one another’s eyes. He’s known him long enough that it betrays its importance.

Extricating himself from a woman with blue hair and a sparkling silver chin labret, he leans in close and waits for details. Naruto covers the receiver and says, “It’s her. Your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my—”

“Maybe go to the office. Sounds important.”

A sensation in his gut, dripping dread. “Transfer it,” he says impatiently.

“Ah, I don’t think I— oh!” Naruto puts the phone back to his ear, listening to Sakura speak. Realizing it’s upside-down, he fumbles it. Nodding, he says, “Sure, he’s here. Jus’ let me . . .”

Jabbing a button on it, triumphant, he’s energetic and proud like a puppy as he slaps the phone back onto the wall with gusto. Grins.

A beat. Another.

“You fucking idiot,” he snaps, yanking it back off the wall. Pointing at the correct button, Sasuke’s eyes dance with what looks like the casual threat of homicide. Slams it back so hard his friend flinches. “If you hang up on her again—”

The ring echoes in stark contrast to his fury, and he snatches it up as Naruto opens his mouth. “Yes?”

“Not how your mom taught you to answer a phone,” Naruto whispers, shaking his head. Pivoting to show him an irritated shoulder, it’s the closest equivalent to a fuck off that Sasuke can give in full view of the bar. He strains to hear her over the din.

And then, there she is sounding so close. Echoes of the way her whispers curl and settle in his ear when she slips out of his bed, reverberating in the silent days that follow when she disappears on a schedule all her own, known only to one. Twenty-eight days can caricature a lifetime, a narrative he can clearly see in his mind’s eye, even if she’s weaving in and out of his life and their reality for most of it. It doesn’t bother him so much as long as she returns.

The strain of her lovely voice is noticeable, tensed twine. The way people speak in crowded rooms on terse topics and desperately carve a bubble of personal space for private, intimate words.

“I’m always speaking to you in unconventional ways. Always odd and in the dead of night.” Humor painted over the tightness of her vocal cords and wavering at the end, the tremolo of an instrument approaching repose.

“Are you all right?” Sasuke brings the receiver closer. No sounds from others on her end, just a gloomy quiet and possibly shuffling paper.

“Sure,” she says, laughing a little. A nervous skittering. “I always end up in police stations on my off nights.”

The beat that follows skips, stalls, as if there’s a space ballooning between each begging to be filled.

“Which one? I’m coming.”

“Sasuke—”

“Are you hurt?” The way he asks this is a gentleness defying his usual prickliness, so soft. Enough that Naruto glances at him over his shoulder as he manages the throng, piqued by the whispers.

“No! No, not really. I’m not sure what’s going on. They brought me here and I was sure I’d be arrested—”

“Sakura—”

“—but I don’t think so. No handcuffs, no fingerprinting. But this officer’s definitely not sure what to do with me.”

“Don’t talk to them. Just wait.”

Before she can protest, he hangs up abruptly. To Naruto: “I have to go. She needs help.”

“Is she okay?” Naruto sends another customer off, trying to hide his worried eyes. A mark of the short catalysts required for the fascinating chemistry of bonding, of friendship. She becomes a fixture for two wandering men with the inevitably and grace of astronomic orbits crossing paths.

“Police station,” he mutters.

Sasuke heads for the back office, not seeing Naruto’s eyes wilt even more as he goes.

Whipping open the door, he ignores the fact that Shikamaru was absolutely asleep a moment before all over a scattering of ledgers and rouses him with his classic abrasion. “Get out front. I need to handle something.” To drive home the point, pulls his jacket off the hook and swings it on quickly.

“Ah, right,” Shikamaru rasps, rubbing the indented depressions and ink off his face. “Emergency?”

“Sort of,” Sasuke mumbles. Reaches into his jacket pocket and casts about, in his mind, on who he can ask to dig into a situation that hasn’t yet yielded an arrest.

He always knows someone, though. The curse of the name.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

Sasuke surveys him from the threshold, already aiming to leave. He wonders what he must look like when he thinks of her, when she’s in a room and has her beautiful hands on him, because the expression Shikamaru’s giving him is inscrutable and poignant all in one. She has the uncanny ability to splay his heart as a cadaver, pinned and primed for inspection. And it always feels that everyone understands something beyond him.

“Go,” Shikamaru says. “We’re here too, if you need us.”

He nods in response, and doesn’t bother with the zipper as he jogs down the hall to swing open the back door and depart into the night.

.

.

.

A well-placed phone call later, he’s at the police station front desk in an unfamiliar trendy neighborhood, asking after a girl with pink hair whose last name he doesn’t have.

“Pink, you said?” An austere expression creeps into the desk manager’s brows, sinks into her jowls; sharpness in her eyes. Clearly regarding him, and this, as ludicrous.

“Probably fake,” he volunteers. “She was brought in a couple hours ago.”

“‘Probably fake,’” the woman echoes, setting down her pen.

Anxiety flits about in his chest, a moth stuck in a dangerous, fated tryst with lamplight.

A door opens to the right of the front desk and an officer leans over the threshold. Serious and composed in contrast, badges gleaming. “Uchiha Sasuke?”

“Yes.” It’s a reflex, something about the way he speaks reminding him of another imposing, authoritarian presence that still lingers at the edge of his nightmares. Never quite sure if he’s relieved or regretful that he’s gone. Growing up, everything was suffused with it, the power and the name.

“She’s back here. Oh, he’s with me, no need for that,” he says to the woman. Waves a hand, blithe, sweeping away the very notion of procedure.

Sasuke follows him down a hallway expecting to be taken to holding cells, and the creeping familiar feeling settles into his shoulders. Instead, the officer sighs, yawns. They stop outside of a closed office door.

“Listen, this Sakura, your girlfriend? She’s fine. I’m apt to believe what happened, but the scene got — well, it was disorderly, let’s say that. We talked a little and the little lady she was defending is with her, too. Once she mentioned your name, well,” and here he puts what’s intended as a fatherly hand on Sasuke’s shoulder, who glances at it surreptitiously, “I knew and respected your father. Head of your family, very helpful to us over the years.”

Unable to express the fleeting, frenzied analysis that takes place as he’s speaking, the myriad implications, defending someone, little lady, girlfriend, my father, helpful, and the swift undercurrent of distaste at the remembrance of his family name, how his father was a pillar rather than any sort of parent or individual, and how reputation always came first:  Sasuke nods a few times and swallows everything he wants to say, instead responding, “I . . . appreciate this.”

Nodding once, satisfied presumably at staying in a dead man’s good graces by way of assisting his son, he smiles broadly. Such a contrast to the way his father ever did, who perpetually seemed sour. Still, many men can commandeer space whether with a jovial smile or the most straightforward intimidation.

They both startle as the door clicks open:  Sakura in the left chair and a woman with long, luscious dark hair on the right. They exist as another illustration of contrasts — hair colors on opposite sides of spectrums saturating the drab, taupe-beige space, one’s eyes green and sharp and the other’s, soft and mottled, cream.

There’s a spark of recognition when he glances at the unknown girl, a feminine personage and assumed offspring of a family he’s met before, perhaps as a child. Now though, nothing resonates. Instead he watches Sakura, who tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear and meets his eyes, lips tugging into a smile despite the circumstances.

Does she know she could get away with anything with a face like that? Sasuke’s heart skips uncomfortably, the sensation of missing a step in some stairs.

When she sits up from the chair and sways, it’s the other woman who catches her first. By the forearm, and with a butterfly-delicate touch.

“Hah, I forgot,” Sakura mutters, more to herself than them. With a weak grin at her companion, she explains, “My ankle.”

“What happened to you?” Sasuke asks. Frowning, he passes the pad of his thumb across her cheek to sweep away what he assumes is cosmetic. It smears and fades but stubbornly stays.

And he knows that color more than he’s ever wanted to.

Sakura winces. “You should see the other guy.”

“I can explain,” the officer offers. Taking a seat behind his desk with another dismal yawn, Sasuke stands behind Sakura’s chair. Heat dashes across the back of his neck in irritation, confusion; she uses his arm as leverage to lower herself into the chair, intensifying the cloying atmosphere. The other woman keeps her head down, bowed. A familiar gesture.

“The ladies here were at a popular lounge downtown, separately. From their statements, they arrived at different times and did not know one another before tonight.” Pausing, his eyes sweep between the two, offering space for contradiction or comment. He continues. “Neither were unreasonably intoxicated. Over the course of the night, miss Hyuuga here,” and that name sparks something in Sasuke’s mind, neurons seeking details, “was dealing with the unwanted attentions of an intoxicated young man. At some point, miss . . . oh, the ink is smudged. Sakura, here, approached her,” here he flips an upturned palm to indicate her —

“Hinata,” she says quietly, inclining her head to Sasuke.

“— concerned for her well-being around this man. He apparently had friends as well, and the situation escalated to alleged harassment. Heated words were exchanged, bystanders becoming involved, and unfortunately it progressed to this man grabbing miss Hyuuga, and, well—”

“He received a face full of gimlet,” Sakura interrupts, folding her arms. “And then my fist.”

“You punched him?” Sharp, inquiring, but bewildered.

“No, with a palm to the nose. I didn’t want a broken hand.”

Sasuke’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The officer winces and glances at Sasuke, under the assumption perhaps that he’s already aware of her tart retorts and lives lovingly with them.

There’s a pause, and Hinata yearns to fill the gap. “If she hadn’t been there to intervene, I don’t know how it would have gone. I truly, really appreciate what she did, even if it was, ah, unorthodox?” She smiles at Sakura, then the officer, and finally Sasuke. “Her form is quite good,” she adds, blushing furiously.

“Look, I don’t think we’re in the business of charging anyone tonight.” The officer has both palms up now in a show of calm.

“I asked you before, I’m not sure why you’re just letting me go,” Sakura says, sounding accusing. Folds her arms across her chest. “I understand why I’m here. I don’t know if that’s right, for nothing to be written up.”

“There’s much to be said for defense.” The tiniest air of condescending patience, a parent refusing to elaborate for a child. Redirecting his attention, he says to Hinata, “Your father will be here soon.”

The way Hinata bows her head again, bent as grass in the wind as if ready to bear difficulty, resonates with Sasuke deeply. A father whose existence was imposing and a relationship fraught with the inability to measure up.

Sakura pulls her phone out of her shimmering shirt with two fingers, plucking it from the magical ether with a certain polite grace in front of the men, and hands it to the woman next to her. Blushing, Hinata fumbles with the latch on a small clutch in her haste to exchange numbers.

Upon finishing, Sakura asks if there’s anything for her to sign.

“No no,” he says, again with that wave. A brushing away of rules and regulations by the mere implication of his authority. “Let your boyfriend take you home, rest that ankle.”

Pink eyebrows could brush the ceiling with how high they rise; Hinata steals a glance but doesn’t make a sound. As if relenting to the chain of events, the circumstances weaving far from the controlled loom of her own hands, Sakura’s shoulders sag and accepting Sasuke’s arm plays out as the next movement in a piece of music, an obvious outcome.

They stand apart on the sidewalk:  Him in all black from the work he hastily left, her in a shimmering shirt, barefoot, sandals in her hand. The bruised knot on her ankle matches the navy of her skirt. For a few moments, they don’t speak.

She doesn’t cry, doesn’t unravel, simply stands on the chilled sidewalk and idly swings her fingers with the sandal straps woven in them in time to an unheard rhythm. Noticing her shivering, his coat becomes hers once more, draped over her shoulders and covering the spatters of red and an abundance of glitter inherited from the lounge that will take days to erase, months to lose in the fibers of his carpet.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says softly. “Got me off the hook.”

“I didn’t.”

A noise of disbelief, settling in the throat. Constrained.

“He said he knew and respected my father. That happens often.”

Musing on this, she turns and raises her eyes to his. “It must be interesting, to have people grant that to you wherever you go.”

She’s quite short without her shoes. Wilting and exhausted, withdrawing in a way that could leave her as mere wisps as clouds on a cold night.. Even in this tension and the aftermath of another surreal chapter in a chaotic narrative, the urge to sweep glitter off her cheeks and lift her, carrying her off to another planet, is strong and vivid.

“I assumed you would be picking me up from a station one day,” he says. Hates himself for the heat in his face that seems to crop up only in conversation with her.

With a wry smile, she responds, “So we’re both very lucky little delinquents.”

But her face falls, humor dissipating. When she falls against him, only then do her fears take shape between them. “This is why I leave.” Arms around him and fingers in the fabric of his shirt to stay upright. “Because strange things always happen and it always feels like I can’t stop any of it. Like fate.”

Taking on her weight, his fingers find strands of her hair dancing aloft from the wind; they slip through like silk. When he speaks, it’s a quiet murmur. “Sounds like that girl needed your help.”

“Both of them made it sound much more noble than it was.”

Untangling from him, she passes the back of her hand over her eyes, green and glimmering even in the wan, washed out glow of streetlights. Continues, letting weight off her bruised ankle. “The truth is, I was dancing and tipsy and full of false bravado, and spoiling for a fight. He just happened to trip into my orbit, stupidly bothering someone in front of me. The perfect storm of circumstances.”

Following the movements of her lips, an ache radiating in his chest; how can she tell him not to fall in love with her?

“Isn’t that everything?”

His words seem to take the wind out of her sails. Breath stolen, strength gone. She concedes his point with a small smile and nothing more.

Wincing as she readjusts her weight, he’s about to tell her he’ll find a car when she steps forward to the curb, albeit wobbly, and firmly thrusts an arm out, reaching into the blank night. Leaving him always wondering on her earthly origins as she summons one from the dead street with the enchantment of nothing other than her will.

They fall in against the seats, drunk on nothing but novelty.

As she pulls him close by his lapels and dips her tongue into his mouth

— skin humming and warm, as if she’s still moving and undulating underneath hot lounge lights; music in her bones, the echoes of beats hours before; a tang of tartness and botanics, the tastes on her lips that she shares with his; the sharp inhale that tumbles out when she pulls away and nips his bottom lip —

he’s apt to wonder which cabs they haven’t kissed in yet.

.

.

.

Damp locks fanned beneath her head, pink waves splayed wide as if dropped from above with the luck to land and lie tenderly in a field, cradled by earth. But it’s just her on the couch, chin crushed to her chest and face partially obscured, half of it pressed into the cushion as if burrowing for sleep.

“So I know I’ve asked you for enough already.”

It’s a tentative beginning, leaving a question unasked. Sasuke moves his thumb in light and repetitive movements against her ankle, skimming the fabric of the wrapping. She opens one jade eye, brilliant even in the twilight. He makes some noise of assent, and she continues.

“I have this work event,” she says. “It’s stupid, really, but I think it’s somewhat of a formal thing. I tried to get out of it, I did, but one evening the owner of the company — the actual company, not the manager of our subsidiary media branch or whatever — was around listening to my show and he spoke to me afterward.” She frowns, the expression of a sour conversation in her mind. “Anyway, he strongly implied it was an event that you wear something nice, and bring someone with. All above my usual social standing.

She pauses to blow a strand of hair from her face, then looks askance, eyes concentrating hard on the cushion.

“I need someone who’s good at these things. Navigating events like this, all those important people with wealth and to know what they’re actually saying, not just what comes out of their mouths.”

Her meaning is plain: Who better than you?

Not speaking just yet, he instead places a hand on her thigh; hours later her skin still hums, pliant and warm and dashed with glitter missed from her wash.

She shifts beneath his touch, nudging his fingers in an unconscious request. Staring at him fully with open eyes which survey each atom of his face in incisive and keen patterns, memorizing. The sensation, again, of the precipice and the twinge in his stomach and swift wind in his ears, obscuring hearing, drowning out any rational thought. Testing the notion, his hand skims the hem of her skirt; the tug of her lips which stifles a sharp inhale isn’t enough to go on, but the way her eyes brighten as he maneuvers her body easily, considerately, and he’s feeling like the desired target at the barrel end of a poised rifle —

she, eager and him, obsessed.

She trembles like aftershocks — hips caged in by his arms and his handsome chin so close and the fleeting thought of yanking him by his beautiful dark hair and making a mess of that gorgeous face is only to be postponed for another thirty seconds, maybe.

“So,” she exhales, “Will you be my date?”

He responds simply, “Yes.”

An amused smile on her face, eyes alight. “Sometimes, you’re a man of few words.”

Shifting again, her hips sinking into a softer dip in the cushion with a little satisfied sigh. Prompting him to continue the charged venture between her thighs, where his fingers from before are replaced by his lips and the catch of air in her throat is enough to rouse him. Vulnerable things, stupid things, rise to his lips and he swallows them whole, and she senses them; he’s defenseless enough to cough them into her waiting, shaking hands. Instead he whispers against the hot skin of her thigh:

“Do you trust me?”

Sakura reflects it’s a trite question to ask, much less to answer, with him between her legs. Fingers plucking at the edge of her skirt, she says, “Yes.”

And the rest is a whisper lost in her gasp, because despite her caution she’s a failure at any rational thought like this, so dizzy and losing the concept of what’s real and what’s bliss, and it’s possible it was never voiced at all.

But only just.

.

.

.

Bringing him to life with her soft hands on each side of his face and the fruity scent of her shampoo, she whispers, “I’m starving.”

On the floor, both sprawled out on his luxuriant living room rug, verdant like lush jungle and comfortable enough to serve as the night’s chaise. Neither’s slept for much time, the sun’s aurora crowning the horizon with a prophetic red crescent. Again, waking up next to her has the unmooring sensation of devastation and they’re scattered as debris.

They pull the previous night together in languid movements:  Refolding blankets, resetting pillows. Quick face rinses. She limps around on her own despite his quiet protests, intent on breakfast — food this time.

“I’m okay,” she laughs, running her hands over counters and underneath couch cushions. Likely her phone.

Sasuke finds it facedown on the floor, and flips it over. Immediately it lights up and reveals messages upon messages, and as another comes in they flash again, regroup as they hit a limit. Blinding in the dark. All of them from the same number, unsaved, tender and worried and beseeching in a way that doesn’t strike him as a lover and his heart rate falls but the way Naruto has messaged him after disappearing without preamble in a seedy bar or out a back alley, intent on a scuffle with someone to make him feel alive. A best friend who’s rescued another one from numerous poor decisions and choices when they’re feeling low like a layer beneath dirt.

The sound of her nails clicking against the case and scraping his skin startles him as it’s snatched from his hands; it’s a rough motion, jarring. Eyes jejune and dismayed. Emotional whiplash from the previous second as she swallows hard and clutches it to her chest and a sense of an animal cornered.

“Don’t,” she hisses.

“Sakura—”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Are you all right?”

Sliding it into her pocket, she pivots away; he takes her forearm and she shakes him off with the same ferocity with which she usually pulls him close. “Fine.”

“Would you be honest if you weren’t?”

Lips twitching, a response he can see her holding in. Instead, she swings her purse onto her shoulder in a wide arc that keeps him at arm’s length and makes an attempt to limp out the door with her chin high. She’s moving too fast on that sprain and he knows that she knows, pre-med and all, (and from the way she’s discussed it, close to finishing.)

He heads out the front door after her, snatching up his jacket and keys as he goes.

Frustration mounts as she punches the door close button with a loud smack so he has to take the next one. Head spinning at the shift in it all and the horrible weariness that surfaced in her eyes; and everyone has something like that, the trigger to the shutdown and a signal to bar the doors. Taps his foot impatiently at the elevator ride that seems to last for years.

Lobby, out the doors. She’s crossing the street against the lights, and he calls after her.

“Sakura!”

“Leave me alone!”

Bewildered, he plunges forward into the crosswalk—

The screech and hiss and smell of overworked brake pads; at the loud thumping sound Sakura pivots with a small scream mingling with cursing and raised voices—

Sasuke waves the driver’s screaming and his near-fatal experience away with the same annoyance of flicking away an insect, and it seems to bring him to an aggressive and lethal sort of calm. Something in his shoulders and jaw that lifts him, comprises control. And now she’s loath to move, feeling rooted to the spot by his glimmering dark eyes and the aberrant brush with catastrophe that intertwines their souls delicate as lace. Thinking perhaps he can survive even me, knowing as he advances that she could fall into his arms and he would break bones and move the world to remain in her space; he would lay it all at her feet.

Raises a hand to him, reaching as he safely makes it onto the sidewalk—

A thin arm causes her to pull up short, a horizontal barrier swung firmly into her path. Stumbling a little, she follows the long blonde hair with her eyes and drinks in the stance of this woman with her back to her.

Something breaks, a ballpoint hammer to a vulnerable crack in her decrepit heart.

“You better back off!” A voice Sakura knows in every fiber of her being, rattling her bones. Sasuke stops in his tracks at the sight of this blonde woman in his path, and shows his palms in conciliation and confusion.

With a toss of her hair, the woman turns to Sakura and holds her at arm’s length like she’s sprung from the grave, reborn and she’s unable to believe it. Fingering her long hair and her eyes so blue, ocean and skies, beg for recognition. “It’s me. It’s Ino!”

Mouth falling open, Ino takes her lack of response as shock and shakes her head in a rapid motion, back and forth. “Shit, Sakura. I’ve been looking — I found you.” Laughs in a light trailing way, stunned. Voice revealing a lightheadedness, a lovely giddiness.

Without warning she tackles her in a violent hug, the vehement and frenzied embrace of someone whose whole of her soul was lost and then found. Fingers clutching at hair and fabric and then Sakura obliges, relents and their behavior’s the same, scrabbling and wavering voices.

Sasuke watches as Sakura lets her chin rest, heavy and weary, on Ino’s shoulder. The reunification of two who have traveled on significant roads alongside one another, the mortar and brick of what he recognizes as found family.

Tears cutting salty paths down Sakura’s cheeks as Ino says again,

“I found you.”

[nyc-uws]

Friends

My new old friend. An odd formulation. And yet….

The Hedgehog Review Wilfred M. McClay

I hadn’t ever considered the matter until a few years ago, when I heard a dreamy little number by the jazz pianist Alan Pasqua called “My New Old Friend.” It’s a strictly instrumental affair, a subdued and contemplative piano trio, full of subtle unresolved suspensions and wafting dissonances, conveying a late-night mood of solitary and slightly bittersweet remembrance—one of those moments of quiet grace when the passage of time slows to a crawl, past and present seem to intermingle, and joy and sorrow become hard to tell apart.

But it was the song’s title that captured my attention, even more than the music itself. My new old friend. An odd formulation. But one I’d been looking for, without even knowing it.

It’s not obvious to me why I should have been looking. In a different moment, I would have been far more likely to react against the phrase, striking it down with a reflex of indignant linguistic puritanism. After all, the noble term friend has already been so diluted and cheapened in our times, like so many of our most important words of personal and social connection, that it has become like the Platte River, a mile wide and an inch deep. Such cheapening has occurred not only in our personal usage but in public discourse. When Abraham Lincoln concluded his First Inaugural Address with a heartfelt plea to the seceding Southern states to recall that “we are not enemies, but friends,” the word had great emotive power, describing the very bonds of public affection that were being sundered. Such earnest usage has all but disappeared. Friend as we now use it embraces a particularly large portfolio of evasions and line-blurring maneuvers, especially useful in the hands of diffident teenagers, as in this familiar exchange: Mother: “Who was that on the phone?” Daughter: “A friend.”

As this example illustrates, friend can designate anything from a mysterious or otherwise uncategorizable love interest to a study-group classmate to a business associate to a helpful neighbor to the “friends” who accumulate on people’s social media accounts, where they are as plentiful and enduring as the daily harvest of low-tide sea shells on a beach. The television series Friends (1994–2004) became one of the most successful sitcoms in TV history by depicting a collection of very attractive twenty- and thirtysomethings “hanging out” together as a kind of quasi-family, a light and frothy fantasy that transposed the social life of the college dorm to not-quite-adult life in implausibly toney Manhattan apartments. For its characters, friendship was that relatively flexible and easygoing state of social relations before the hardening categories of adulthood come along.

This resonated with American audiences, including aging boomers who were nostalgic for the friendships of their college days. But when we’re confronted with the far profounder ideas about friendship put forward by Aristotle, the greatest of all writers on the subject, or by C.S. Lewis in his splendid account in The Four Loves, we tend to be nonplussed. Such heights seem beyond us. For Lewis, Friends would have to be considered a show about companions, not friends, since friendship is something weightier and inherently exclusive. In this, Lewis was in tune with the earlier observations of Aristotle: “Great friendship too can only be felt towards a few people…. One cannot have with many people the friendship based on virtue and on the character of our friends themselves, and we must be content if we find even a few such.” Far from being something breezy and easy, like a glass of sparkling spring wine, friendship in the fullest sense is a rare and precious thing, much more like an old single-malt Scotch.

As I’ve said, the Platte River principle has come to apply to many of our words of human connection, perhaps partly reflecting the automatic generosity of the democratic spirit, and also the way we employ the language of false personalization in our speech, routinely appropriating the most charged words in doing so. Some of this is vaguely sinister, as when corporate bosses try to persuade us to think of ourselves as part of “the Sprocket Corporation family,” especially at times when the budget needs cutting. Community is a word that comes in for similar abuse, and has been almost emptied of meaning in this respect, standing for any aggregation that it is politically or financially useful to treat as an aggregate. Here, as in the use of the language of family and almost any other affective term, Silicon Valley has led the way to perdition.

So you can see why I would be initially averse to the idea of “new old friends,” which might sound at first like more linguistic inflation, the equivalent of preripped jeans or “distressed” furniture, something new that is made out to look old, and thus is doubly phony. To make matters worse, as my old friends can readily confirm, I have for years been prone to saying, in an earnest imitation of Shakespeare’s Polonius, that “you can always make new friends, but you can never make new old friends.” And it’s true. There is something irreplaceably special about the people who have been down the road with you—those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried—and whose friendship has endured through the sheer passage of years, through the steady artillery of time, even if such friendships lack the lively intensity of newer ones. People who “knew you when” can never be replaced, and a wise person will not seek to do so.

But such friendships have their limitations. For one thing, it’s not always helpful to be reminded constantly of who you were “then.” Life does move on. And there is also something very true in the Simon and Garfunkel song “Old Friends,” about the two men who “Sat on their park bench like bookends…. / Winter companions… / Lost in their overcoats / Waiting for the sunset…. / Memory brushes the same years / Silently sharing the same fear.” There is a bond being described, if an unutterably sad and resigned one. It is an existential bond of the deepest and most universal sort. But there are some respects in which this “old friendship” falls short of the fullness of friendship as Aristotle and Lewis describe it.

And here I come to the heart of the matter: There is no denying the phenomenon of a new old friend. I have acquired a couple of them in recent years, people with whom I have found a near-instant bond whose depth is hard to explain, whose friendship feels as old and rooted as an ancient sequoia, even though I know it is as new as a sapling. Moving about in such friendships, I’m wary at first, thinking they may be too good to be true, fearing to trust too much in the sensation of oldness, fearing, much as one fears when living in a foreign culture, that my habitual ways of being will suddenly be misperceived or strike the wrong note. There is something deeply mysterious about such friendships, and mystery induces caution, as well as awe.

But perhaps the mystery has to do with the mystery of friendship itself. Lewis remarks that what finally hold us together as friends are not the “unconcerning things,” facts of biography and shared experiences. Of course, one brings the residue of all such things to the activity of friendship. But the friendship itself stands apart from such things. It concerns itself, Lewis argues, with nothing less than a shared quest for the truth about things. In the very act of sharing in this one thing, friends gain access to an astonishing degree of freedom. “In a circle of true Friends,” Lewis insists, “each man is simply what he is: stands for nothing but himself”:

That is the kingliness of Friendship. We meet like sovereign princes of independent states, abroad, on neutral ground, freed from our contexts. This love (essentially) ignores not only our physical bodies but that whole embodiment which consists of our family, job, past and connections.

Friendship represents a rare kind of freedom, an “exquisite arbitrariness and irresponsibility,” as Lewis puts it, precisely because it liberates us into a way of being fully human that rises above all the desiderata and conditioning factors that otherwise impinge upon us, the very factors that form what we are now accustomed to call our “identity.” But why shouldn’t an entirely new friendship have that power, as much as an old one has? Or perhaps…even more, since it is no longer the facts, but rather the search, the quest, that the new old friends share?

Lewis was not alone in connecting the disinterested love of truth and goodness with the highest forms of friendship. “The real community of man,” wrote Allan Bloom in The Closing of the American Mind, “in the midst of all the self-contradictory simulacra of community, is the community of those who seek the truth, of the potential knowers, that is, in principle, of all men to the extent they desire to know.” Bloom, too, understood that the quest for truth is what unites us most deeply and most reliably. The greatness of the Great Books, in his view, was their ability to lift our minds and thoughts out of the realm of contingency and “fact,” into a realm higher and more essential, more conducive to the flourishing of friendship—not as a goal of the quest, but as a byproduct of it.

Maybe this way of phrasing it will sound too specific to the academic world. And not everyone has the time or inclination to reread Plato’s Republic every few months (preferably in Greek). But the larger truth, that the deepest friendship can take root in the sparsest biographical soil if some high and shared animating spirit is present, seems right. I’m guessing that’s how we make new old friends. Though in the end, it is a mystery.

Wilfred M. McClay is G.T. and Libby Blankenship Chair in the History of Liberty and director of the Center for the History of Liberty at the University of Oklahoma. His latest book is Land of Hope: An Invitation to the Great American Story (2019).

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/friends

[codenamesazanka]

I know this is a really vague thing to ask, but do you have any tips for writing Shigaraki? I know Echodrops made a whole meta about fanon Shigaraki vs canon Shigaraki but do you personally have anything in particular you'd want to mention yourself about the portrayal of Shigaraki in fanfics?

(Here’s the link to @echodrops‘s post! It’s really, really good, and helped me figure out Shigaraki a lot in the first place. thank you!)

oooh! Not at all a vague thing, this is a great question. I started all this meta because I wanted to figure out how to write Shigaraki as well. A word of caution tho, because this would be my personal interpretation of Shigaraki, though I’ll try to use as much manga examples as I can. As always, super long post. 

Note: images are edited to fit exact quotes to relevant and reasonable sized images, instead of a whole manga page

Here’s some hand man characteristics/traits that I think are overlooked:

Shigaraki Tomura, in his beliefs/values, has a tendency for all-or-nothing thinking, to be extreme in his actions. In all three of his incarnations - the oneshot Tenko, the draft Sazanka, and this current one - a core of the character is 1) finding something flawed/bad/had hurt him somehow 2) completely loathing it 3) vowing to destroy it. 

Tenko despised samurai and their warring, and wishes to rid the world of swords. Sazanka is on a quest to kill quirk-users with quirks he deems too dangerous for society. And Shigaraki has decided that the Heroes and justice system is a farce, and is out to destroy it. 

Kinda fitting for a guy with his quirk - he either doesn’t destroy something, or destroys it completely. The moment he makes his decision, it’s fast and permanent. 

For Shigaraki, murder is murder, destruction is destruction, violence is violence, no matter how you dress it up. That’s why he couldn’t see the difference between him and Stain. That’s why he can’t see that Bakugou, as aggressive and vicious as he is, still wants to be a good guy. 

Now this is my take, but I think his mindset is: Because All Might can’t save everyone, he’s a fake, he’s trash; because everyone will say they condemn murder yet go about their lives carefree even though they know logically someone is out there getting killed, morality and justice is an illusion; because justice is so fragile and flimsy, I will expose it and destroy it. 

Not in any goodwill or for a better society, mind you. He just hates it. 

He also has no illusions about himself or his actions, he knows he’s evil.

Shigaraki is a lot more sarcastic and sardonic than usually portrayed in fanon. He’s very rude and can be foul mouthed, but the real insult comes from his tone and behavior. He condescendingly calls Eraserhead cool. He calls Stain the ‘Great Senpai of scoundrels’. He points out to Overhaul how a wakagashira/underboss like him should be more polite. Just about half of everything he says is dripping with mockery, and he’s very breezy and irreverent. So a bit less ‘I hate you, fuck off’, and more cheek.

Adding to that, if I’m reading my Japanese right, Shigaraki can change how he addresses people depending on the person and situation. His default speech is rude, but he’ll talk somewhat (barely) politely-ish if needed; it’s just it’s very obvious he’s not taking it seriously. 

Related, I feel like Shigaraki says a lot of things he doesn’t really believe. He tries out concepts, half-heartedly, on a whim. There’s that infamous speech at USJ about Heroes and Villains both using violence - which does seem to have some semblance to the actual ‘two sides of the same coin’ that even Best Jeanist talks about. 

And here’s him considering Stain’s effects on heroes, with gusto, before ditching it.

I know it’s Smash!, but here’s him reciting some sort of pseudo education philosophy he picked up somewhere??? to Kurogiri to get out of exercise. 

He’s a total smartass 

Of course, this brings up the question, is he genuine in his speech to Bakugou, or to Toga and Twice? 

 Like Echodrop notes, he can be in a good mood. He can be (seem?) happy, he can smile, he will acknowledge when someone does a good job of something. 

Sure, it’s got a manic edge to it, it’s probably not coming from a place of good, fluffy, innocent feelings, but he can laugh, enjoy the moment, be psyched about something. 

I really like this scene because he actually giggles a bit. He squeezes Midoriya, and he really does seem excited for a chat. 

He’s quick to go back to being default cranky tho. Quick to enjoy, quick to get irked.  

Shigaraki is a weirdo and I love him.

 My boy is smart. Really, Shigaraki is smarter than he looks. In the Ultra Archive, his profile lists his intelligence as ‘A’, ranking him above most characters, including Midoriya. I get that Deku’s whole thing is being the strategizing main character, but Shigaraki’s just as analytical. Even the Smash! Comic points this out. 

His room is filled with books, so either he reads a lot or he hoards them to look smart. I think it’s the former. Well, it’s not mutually exclusive, I should know.

He thinks and reflects and questions. He was super pissed about Stain, but he realized Stain was right and tried to figure out why. He went on a walk to calm down and just ruminate. He sought out Midoriya just to get second opinion. Afterwards, he quickly sees the bigger picture and realizes the issue is systemic and he’s gotta attack the structure. Of course, kinda shaky on the specific details and it’s not endgame long term, but still impressive. 

There’s a lot of Villain!Deku fanfics - and I like them a lot! - that turns Deku into the criminal mastermind or makes him the brains behind Shigaraki’s operations. Which is fair, Deku could totally be one! And also a lot of fics where Shigaraki is dismissed, with everything he does being AFO’s machinations. Again, fair. But Canon Shigaraki is AFO’s successor and leads the League for a reason.

This also means, I think, that Shigaraki isn’t as clueless to the fact that All For One is manipulating him. This point is entirely debatable, though. All I have to back this is how Shigaraki wondered if he was lied to in the USJ.

Even tho he’s facepalm crusty boi neet, Shigaraki is still a very dangerous S-ranked villain. I feel like sometimes people forget this. 

 He’s not that childish. He can be immature, he’s still learning the ropes of being a supervillain, he’s got an irritable and sullen disposition, but he’s not a five-year-old. He’s also not completely unhinged. 

When things don’t go his way, his first response usually isn’t to shriek or whine or immediately snap. He’s got a clear head and a good sense of what he can and can’t do. Kurogiri is down, All Might escaped their grasp, but Nomu’s still active? Cool, we got this. It’s only when Nomu gets team-rocket-ed that he panics. Stain stabs him? Doesn’t start a fight right there and then, asks Master for some Nomu, is patient enough to wait until he decides he really can’t stand Stain, then finally gives the go ahead for a rampage. 

Shigaraki knew from the start he can’t handle All Might. That’s Nomu’s job. As much as he hates All Might, he doesn’t jump at the chance to kill the hero personally. He’s not ruled by impulse or easy distractions, not really. And he will back down if Kurogiri reasons with him - see accepting Stain as a party member, see letting Toga and Dabi live. And after he got his motivation, he’s been very restraint since. 

He doesn’t immediately destroy his things in anger - we only see him destroy only few items pre-mall talk. He decays binoculars, a photo of Deku, maybe a newspaper, all quiet and deliberate. Kurogiri’s bar is intact and clean, despite being the long-time hang out spot of the destructive Shigaraki Tomura. Would he decay a controller after losing a game? Maybe, but also just as likely maybe not. 

Shigaraki will complain and bitch and sulk and hold a grudge, tho, yeah. He will lose it after a series of stressors/things gone wrong. He can be moody, cruel and sadistic, bloodthirsty and mayhem-loving. But he’s got himself under control more often than not. 

Finally, video games: My biggest pet peeve about portrayal of Shigaraki in fanfics: He’s super obsessed with video games, to the point that he plays them all day long, and he can’t stop using video game slang for everything - or so a lot of the fandom believes. 

I’ve pointed out before that we’re more likely to see him reading the newspaper and we’ve never actually seen him use a console ever in manga or anime. True, he likens scenarios to games frequently, but not all the time - the USJ fight was when he did that the most, then in his other appearances only once or twice during the whole scene (Doesn’t want Stain as a ‘party member’, none at all when meeting Dabi or Toga and then at the mall, camp arc has him seeing himself playing a Sim instead of an RPG, calls All Might ‘last boss’ during the raid, then nothing for his next appearances). At least not out loud. As fun as it is to imagine him as a geeky gamer, and he is, but he does more than just that. 

I think Shigaraki uses video games and media to create mental scripts for himself to understand/interact with the world, but it serves as a skeleton. He fleshes it out, always adding to that mental model to create a more complex one. He calls his change of strategy as playing a Sim game, but it’s a good analogy that works for him, and we see how layered his plan is - dealing a blow to UA that works whether the Vanguard succeed or not, kidnapping Bakugou and Ragdoll, in order to bring about the media and public criticism of UA/heroes, and had it not been for the raid, something would’ve happen to Bakugou that would’ve demoralized everyone. 

He def is grounded in reality enough to know what he’s doing is more than just a game. 

And that’s all I got for now! There might be a part two. idk, but I hope this was helpful! 

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch.17

Note: We’re back to sweet sweet Gil and surprisingly enough, Jade became such an interesting character to write that she sprung into her own. Which means the next chapter is a Jade chapter, and totally disrupting my outline for it but that’s what people mean by the characters write themselves. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also tw:mentions of abuse.  “Are you sure this is the right room?” Gil asked the minion again, trying in vain to read the map Uma had given him to navigate the castle. It kept crumpling up and going upside down. 

The goon just grunted and shoved him through the door. Gil caught himself on the door handle just in time to see the sparkle of a dozen bejeweled drapes and Jade reclining on an ottoman, bringing sweet relief of knowing he hadn’t messed up.

“Hello Gil!” Jade cheerfully waved before abruptly yelping. Her head whipped to glare at the boy bent at her feet, “Come on slave boy, have you not given a foot massage before? It’s supposed to be gentle.” “Not my fault if you have a lot of tension there, Princess.” The guy sarcastically shot back.  Gil recognized the boy despite his tattered clothing, he was that Prince from Agrabah!

“What? He’s a prince! Why is he your slave?” Gil asked, completely forgetting what he had come here for. 

“The only way we could get him from being killed in the dungeon was to find a way to use him. And what better use that having the son of my mom’s enemy be our slave boy.” Jade grinned. 

“But um I don’t if that’s..” Gil paused, unsure how to word what he wanted to say without offending Jade. But he was pretty sure that being part of the Anti Villain Club meant not using another person as a slave. Even if it kept him from being killed. But then again Yen Sid that being an anti hero was a complicated thing and they didn’t always do good things. He wasn’t sure. He got so confused during the explanation. 

Luckily, Jade seemed to sense Gil’s hesitance and put a gentle hand on his bicep. “He’s not actually my slave. It’s just pretend so Mom and Uncle Jafar don’t freak out that I’m becoming soft or something. I’m still helping to stop all this.” 

“Yes, she’s just enjoying this all too much.” Aziz added wryly, pressing a little too roughly on her instep so she kicked at his head. 

“When you’re done with Jade, how about you get started on me. I’ve never had a massage before.” Gil jumped at the addition of this other voice and saw that white haired girl peel away from the window balcony and walk to a pile of pillows. He couldn’t remember her name, but she looked very different from before. She was dressed all fancy and bejeweled like Jade and she had a tentative smile that looked like she was baring her teeth.

Jade held her hand up for a first bump but the white haired girl ignored, “Slave boy, you’re dismissed.” 

“Come on slave boy.” Lala patted to a spot beside her on the pillows. 

“Not you too.” Aziz groaned. 

“Shush, just do it.” She commanded as Aziz got to work on her shoulders. 

“Sorry for the distraction. What is that you need to tell me?” Jade asked, focusing her full attention on him. 

“Harry and I went to the Anti Villain Club like Uma told us too and they agreed to help us. It was so easy, we didn’t even have to threaten them. Which made Harry mad because he really wanted to threaten them with his hook. Anyway, Yzla has been giving me messages to give to Uma like how they got most of the sober lackeys on our side and they’re starting to work on convincing merchants like Madam Medusa and Ivy De’Vil.” 

“Good, good.” Jade’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“And that’s all we have so far since Uma hasn’t sent any orders about attacking yet. But Yzla wanted to send me a special message to you that she’s working on a potion to unhypnotize Jay and she can’t wait to see you this afternoon after the Coven meeting.” 

“Aww that girl.” Jade mused contentedly for a moment before her smile faded away and her eyes glazed over to look at the far side of the room. Gil’s eyes followed hers and he almost jumped to see the frozen statue of Jay standing sentinel next to an opulent queen sized bed. 

It was weird to see him that way. So still like he wasn’t even breathing. Dressed in the robes of a prince, hair slicked back in a man bun but his face was blank like a puppet’s. And with a constant red glaze on his eyes. 

“That’s creepy.” Gil shuddered. Jade sighed without much emotion. A valuable skill that he wished he could have. Mother always warned him not to be so expressive with his emotions because that just made him a target. 

“It’s so strange to see him not fidgeting or talking or anything.” Jade shook her head.

“I think it’s an improvemmffengtf” The other girl began to say but Aziz covered her mouth. Then she bit him, “Don’t do that!” 

“Is he going to stay that way forever?” Gil asked, turning his attention back to Jade. 

“I don’t know. Probably. Uncle Jafar wants that since he turned traitor. Him being hypnotized will keep him in line, and he’ll obey the rules and he’ll act like a prince but he just won’t be himself.” Jade said, “Then again, I don’t think Jay would ever be able to act like himself if he was a prince. Or me as a princess.”

“Don’t you want to be a princess?” Gil asked. He had been wondering about that since Yzla informed him that Jade was a new member of the Anti Villain Club. Jade was a thief like Jay, always attracted to shiny gold objects. He had thought she would love to be a princess and get all the riches in the world. Why would she join the Anti Villain Club and work against the Coven then?

Jade looked hesitant to explain but she looked at him and a rare soft smile broke on her face. She inhaled and began to explain. “I wanted to be rich and powerful but not like this. I can’t do anything fun anymore. No more fighting or drinking contests because I’ll get dirty. No more flirting because I have to marry someone else who is just as rich and powerful. It’s too much pressure. And Mom is having me do magic lessons all the time and I’m just not good at it. I can’t cast spells or shapeshift or do anything my mom wants and then Mom starts…” she trailed off, seeming to sink lower in her seat before Gil’s eyes. 

He understood that feeling. Even when Father wasn’t around, just thinking about his meaty hands colliding with his stomach, the phantom agony of it, he wanted to hide too.

Unbidden and very unwelcome, his mind flashbacked to the thought of Lars and his sadistically gleeful face. Gil squinched his eyes and forced himself not to think about that. 

He was good at that. Forgetting. Forgetting was so much easier than thinking and he certainly didn’t want to think about what kind of pain Lars had wanted for him. 

He knew Nasira hit Jade but he didn’t know how bad it was. No one did. After all Jade was the unofficial makeup expert on the Isle, able to cover any unsightly bruise while giving perfect winged eyeliner so she always looked good. 

Besides, you just don’t talk about it on the Isle. Being hit and getting into fights was supposed to make you tough. Complaining or losing one made you weak.

 But it wasn’t that way all the time Gil had learned. He found a good place with Uma’s Crew. They wrestled and got into bar brawls, he had several stitches from when Gonzo smashed a chair over him, but it was safe. They never crossed the line and left him bleeding and half unconscious on the floor. 

“You know, you could join Uma’s crew if you want. For protection if you need it.” Gil suggested.

“No. I don’t need anyone!” Jade snapped, her emerald eyes flashing so similarly to her mother from the few times he saw Nasira venture the streets.

“I mean um,” Jade paused. Frozen like a deer in headlights at her small outburst but snapped back to her usual breezy smile with a finger-snap quickness that gave Gil mood whiplash. “I mean, no thanks. I don’t think Uma would want me after I stole that chest full of pearls from the Jolly Roger.”

“That was you!” 

“Yeah.” Jade smiled proudly, “Besides I don’t like ships. It’s so cold and wet and rocks too much and it’s on the sea. Ugh.”  

“Still you could come over sometime, you don’t have to join or anything but you can join our wrestling nights.” Gil cheerfully said.

“I would like that, LeGume.” Jade gently hit his shoulder and twirled a pocket knife she snatched from his belt. Gil nodded his head again feeling happy with himself. 

Then again, he always felt comfortable around Jade. She was so low maintenance and friendly. As close as you could get to a friendly person while on the Isle. She never made him feel stupid. That’s what she liked most about her. She didn’t refer to him as an idiot in every sentence and when they talked, she listened. She actually listened and looked interested in what he had to say, not dismissive. She didn’t look impatient whenever he was trying to remember something he had forgotten and she flirted with him. That was also rare. 

Girls usually flocked to his brothers since they were more handsome and stronger but she flirted with all of them equally. He had asked her once if they could “get together,” and he had hoped she would say “yes” so his brothers would stop mocking him for not having laid anyone. But she said “no.” She said he was too sweet and eager like a puppy, and he understood that. 

After all, Father had said no girl would sleep with a sissy like him. He needed to be tougher. But that little thing did nothing to shake up their camaraderie. 

Uma warned him that Jade’s friendliness was a ruse, she charmed everyone she pickpocketed. Which was true, after hanging out with Jade, he was always missing several of his belongings, but it was fine with him. They had a good time. Friday Fight Night at the Tavern with her was always a blast even though his brothers and her cousin didn’t get along. 

“Why won’t this stupid door open?” A voice cursed from outside the room and the door knob began jangling. 

Gil leaped to the floor, struggling to hide under the too small space under the ottoman as Jade flung the door open. Gil stopped his vain efforts in relief when he saw the familiar brown leather boots of his captain and stood up and saluted her. 

Jade beside him was making painful choking noises and Gil’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the smoky pink skinned creature next to Uma and Calix.

The creature blew past them all to scoop up Aziz from his place and hug him with an audible bone crack. “Aziz, my son, you’re safe. Thank Allah! I thought you were dead. You’re not dead. Thank you. Thank you! And you’re all healed. This is the happiest day of my life.” 

“Jordan, you called me your son again.” Aziz wheezed. 

“I only do it after you’ve been in mortal danger, it’s fine. It’s not weird. I’m not concerned.” Jordan squeezed him one more time before dropping him gently to his feet on the floor. 

“I’m concerned and your breath smells like vomit.” He commented to her. 

Jordan pouted, popping a mint that came from thin air into her mouth, “Why do you always have to ruin the moment.” 

“You called me your son, I want to make it less weird.” Aziz retorted. “Do you not want me as your substitute mother?” 

“No! I don’t! I want you as my sis- Why are we having this conversation? You don’t even want to be a mom.” 

“So? I still can-“ 

“Guys!” Calix clapped his hands getting their attention, “I know you can do this all day but we have bigger things to worry about.” 

“It’s real. Genies are real. It’s hot and talking and magical.” Jade managed to find her voice, still looking incredibly freaked out. 

“I’m not an “it.” I’m a “she.” Jordan corrected, “Why do you look so scared? I’m normal like the rest of-“ she looked at herself, “Oh right, I’m not in mortal form! Sorry, sorry I forgot.” A cloud of pink smoke changed her to the appearance Gil first saw her in.

“Genie..you’re a genie.” Jade muttered. It was sort of funny to see Jade who was usually so in control of herself and breezy be stunned into stammering.

“While she digests that information. Let’s get started on the plan.” Una took control as she usually did. The white haired girl abruptly stood up from her perch observing the conversation and strode to the balcony. 

Aziz rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Lala’s not helping us anymore. Don’t worry, she’s not going to tattle on us, but she doesn’t want any part of it. You know, deniability if it all fails.” “Fine, it’s better if we have smaller numbers while infiltrating the castle.” Uma said but Gil could tell by the tight line of her mouth that Uma thought Lala was being cowardly. Uma always believed that they should all stand by what they wanted or believed in, no matter the consequences. Not go back and forth. 

Gil leaned in, ready to take his next orders when Uma glanced at him and pointed to the door. “Gil, you’re not part of this mission. Go back to the Crew and tell Harry that I need to meet him at sunset tonight. It’s about his sister.” 

Gil nodded as seriously as he could. If something had to do with CJ and Harry, it was important indeed, and he was not going to fail his captain.“You got it!” 

[heligooddeals]

There's a kind of love...

Over yonder in the land of Discord, via the Sanctuary Social, Blackguard and Sideswipe ( @wily-red-and-galeforce-gold​ ) do something... special. ♥

Transcript undercut.

NOTE: I’m leaving mun and muse user handles to help distinguish who wrote what (although I think it’s easy to tell @wily-red-and-galeforce-gold​‘s mastery apart from my mess). I am user Muddy, and Blackguard is user flyingbusiness. Wily is user Wily, and Sideswipe is user Recklessinred.

Muddy

flyingbusiness: I need to see you flyingbusiness: ASAP

Wily

Recklessinred: of course! As soon as I get released. What's up?

Muddy

flyingbusiness: I need to talk to you in person.

Wily

Recklessinred: is everyone ok? Recklessinred: give me like half a day. I'mma talk my way out of the medbay. I'm like 90 Percent better Recklessinred: that's a passing grade

Muddy

flyingbusiness: We're okay. It's not an emergency. flyingbusiness: I just... realized I need to do something and it's important you're around for it.

Wily

Recklessinred: oh! Surprises! I like those =D

Muddy

flyingbusiness: Good flyingbusiness: I hope this one lives up to the hype

Wily

Recklessinred: I'm free \o/

Muddy

flyingbusiness: Good! flyingbusiness: Now get your aft over here

Wily

Recklessinred: yes ma'am. OMW

Muddy

[coordinates, because their position of space has changed slightly]

Wily

Recklessinred: o7 Recklessinred: gimme like 30 minutes and I'll be there

Muddy

Thirty minutes; The perfect amount of time to make something feel short yet agonizingly long at the same time.

Blackguard tries to keep herself busy and distracted from the wait time by tidying up the various livable rooms of Crossfire, starting with the mess hall because it had initially seemed like the best place to sit down with Sideswipe. When it dawns on her just how trashy the room is for what she intends to do though she hurries to the office-living room, cleaning there until she realizes it's just too big and not nearly private enough. Then she glances over at her berthroom, wondering if would be appropriate to invite him there since it was the most private she had available but also HER room.

Lug stretches out on the floor behind her with a great big groan and sigh, drawing her attention over to him, and her optics naturally pass over the viewing windows as she looks. As she gazes out into the stars, wondering just how and where she's going to bare her soul to Sideswipe, an idea hits her and she eagerly looks to the ceiling. "Crossfire?"

"Yes, Blackguard?"

"Can you still do the magnetic thing? You know - when you keep someone grounded to the floor or to your form if we're outside?"

"Yes." A thoughtful hum passes through the whole ship before he asks, "Are you intending to go outside, Blackguard?"

"I am. If Sideswipe's clear to go anyway. So we'll see, okay? And don't say anything to him."

"Your secret is safe with me, Blackguard."

Wily

It doesn't take him too long to make his way over. In fact, for once he's actually early, and hadn't been sidetracked or turned around. But there were a couple of reasons for that.

For starters he genuinely just enjoyed hanging out with Blackguard. So heck yeah he was gonna come over when invited!

Secondly, he was curious.

Curious about what she wanted to see him about. He had an incessant to know, and curiosity was a constant driving force that ate away at him. You can't just ask him to come over, then cryptically proceed to tell him nothing. That could have meant a plethora of things. Was something going on? Was this all code to proceed with the loose haphazard plan to bust Blackguard out of her house arrest sentence?  Was something wrong? Was it something innocuous like "hey I was bored, wanna watch a movie and eat this cool new snack I ordered?"  Maybe it was a fun surprise.

Honestly though? Regardless of the reason,  her asking was enough to summon him.

So here he is.

Arrive he does, popping in to the ship, only mildly nauseous from the bridge trip. He announces himself with a weak but cheery, "Knock knock!

Muddy

A low rumble rolls through the ship when Sideswipe materializes within the supreme and Blackguard trills at the noise; Curious as to what had Crossfire making such a noise, then excited when she realized what/who it was.

"Coming!" She makes haste for the stairs to meet him on the lower deck, eager to get things going but now also mildly concerned for his health. He didn't sound so hot a moment ago and considering the state he had been in not that long ago...

"Hey." She walks up to him with as much casualness as she can muster, kneeling down to give him a loose hug and take a quick inspection of his shoulder. "How are you? Are you okay? You sounded kind of off earlier."

Wily

Don't worry, Blackguard. It's kind of difficult to tell if people are acting a little antsy when your world just tilted sideways. But he'll be fine. He needs a moment.

"I'm fiiiiine," He says a little airily and leans heavily into the hug. Maybe she meant to keep it loose and casual, but he's going to cling a little. Because it helps keep the world from spinning. "All fixed up!" And a little motion sick but maybe if he pretended he wasn't it would go away quicker.

But even after the vertigo ebbs he doesn't let go right away. Instead he tips his helm up, and offers a cheeky grin. "Hi."

"Sooooo," He stage whispers, "Gonna tell me the secret before I actually combust? I wanna knoooow."

Muddy

"Sure, sure." If Sideswipe wants a HUG then, by god, he's getting a HUG. It's not like they're hard to give (especially with their drastic size difference) and Blackguard is always happy to give and receive those kinds of hugs. She'll be mindful of his shoulder though and keep the squeezing around it to a minimal. Everything else on the other hand? It's all getting squeezed to death and then some until he starts wiggling around. Then she'll ease up, look back at him, and hum affectionately.

"Hi." She shifts, easing back on the embrace and carefully resting her hands over his shoulders, then gets down on both knees and sits back on her legs. "So... You're... One of the best mechs I've ever known, and probably one of the best friends I've ever had." A humorless laugh escapes her and she looks at the floor a moment before forcing herself to look back at him. "And that's not really saying much because I've had some really worthless ones too. But, you're good. You're more than good. You're... You're perfect honestly. You're kind, and wonderful, and--" Air hitches in her vents and she lets out another laugh, this one genuine. It's hard to speak with all these emotions bubbling up and getting caught in her throat, so she blurts out: "Will you be my amica endura?"

Wily

They're almost optic to optic like this. Him swaying as he stands, while she kneels and puts them at a more equal standing. Their size difference is comical but the companionship is comfortable. Especially now that the last waves of vertigo have burned away. Instead that tilting sick feeling fades, and it’s replaced by curiosity, and a breezy sort of excited energy.  He’s not sure what for yet, but there’s anticipation. He’s smiling boyishly, excited by the things he might be told whatever that might be. Secrets? Something new? Was it time for plan 'jail break.’? Maybe it was nothing important at all and even that was fine. Whatever it was he was ready. He was- …

He wasn't ready for that.

First it was the nice words. Sweet words that even now were always like little surprises. He craved them the little positive reinforcements.

The positive things, and assurances... that he was good. That someone important saw him that way, despite seeing some of the worst of him. That gave his spark a squeeze.

He didn't let his thoughts linger on that too much. Instead he basked in the nice things, albeit a little confused, his grin making his cheeks hurt.

But as much as it warmed him to hear, it was... he wasn't sure what to say? So he ducked his helm, and laughed a little sheepishly. "Pffffft, you've got a weird definition of perfect. Ha...."

A pause. "You really consider me one of your best friends? Wow, I don't know what I did but go me! I mean you're pretty great your-"

And then he hears what she asks.

And then he thinks for a moment to remember what that is.

And his face does something complicated. Bemusement. Realization. A smile, because he figures it out! The smile gives way to shock as it hits him what it all means put together.

And then articulately-

-he proceeds to say nothing.

And in stunned silence he stares.

Muddy

She figured he would be like this - to a point. After he cried and submitted to her temporary grounding because of the last confession she gave to him, it was easy to anticipate a similar reaction to this confession. She didn't think he'd fall victim to a blue screen of death however and became mildly concerned when he suddenly cut himself off, giving no indication that the thought would continue or be derailed by another any time soon. Part of her even began to worry that this was a calm before a storm and rejection was looming on the horizon, but she did her best to ignore the insecure thought. She and Sides were good.

Probably.

Hopefully.

"Sides?" Tilting her helm, she rubs her hand over his good shoulder and brightens her visor. "You still with me?"

Wily

He blinks almost owlishly, the hand smoothing over his shoulder nudging some life back into him.

"Uhuh," He answers softly, with a distracted nod.  Still, even hazy as he sounds, his optics are still wide and locked on her.

It's a weird sensation. A swelling in his chest, and a knot in his throat, and like all of his systems collectively seized into uselessness on him.  It's warm, and cold, and he likes it, but he doesn't understand it and it's a lot. It's a lot, even if it's not showing that it's a lot. Not yet. The bewilderment is keeping everything at bay.

Eventually his brows knit, and a thousand things are flitting through his head, but the only thing he can snag from the chaos is-

"Why?"

The 'me' is unspoken, but hangs there.

Muddy

"Why.. what?" She mimics his question with her one, tilting her helm a few degrees more before straightening it out. "Like, why do I want to do this? Or..?"

Wily

"I...yeah? But... Why me?" He's still looking at her with that confusion in his optics. There's a fight in his head. Some creeping warm thing at war with incomprehension. It's an odd strain and maybe that's why his voice cracks in a way that's equally confusing. "Why would... why would you want this with me? I don't-"

Muddy

Relief washes over while a dagger simultaneously twists itself in her spark chamber. This wonderful, thoughtful, kind, loving, caring, fun, hilarious, and energetic mech was asking because he didn't understand why he'd qualify for such an honorable position? Clearly she needs to be a better friend - amica - to him then, so he'd understand exactly why he and he alone was the best mech she's known.

"Sideswipe." She cooes, dimming her visor to a gentle 'smile' as she cups the sides of his face, ready to whick any tears he might shed. "Why wouldn't I want to do this? Out of everyone I've ever called my amica, you're the only mech I've really felt... Good about saying it too. The only one I'd be saddened if I lost forever because it'd mean I failed SPECTACULARLY at being a worthy friend. And I would like to keep you around forever, if at all possible." She laughs, visor glowing a shade brighter. "There's literally no one else I'd want to bear my spark to either. Out of everyone, you deserve that part of me. I owe you that much, I think."

Wily

He stares at her in awe.

She thought all of that about him? But...he was chaotic. Impulsive. Naiive about some things, and too practiced in others. Practiced in not great, destructive things. To hear what she had to say so succinctly like that? It was-

It wasn't surprising though.

She had such things to him before. In snippets. In a longer sparkfelt moment. Still, to hear it now with such earnestness and warmth... it hit him square in those vulnerable things, soothing over them with the reminder that people thought he was good. Even though he was flawed.

She knew he was flawed. And still cared for him. For the all of him.

Like he cared for her. The all of her. The wry humor, the patience, the worry she showed in her own way, the exasperation, the silliness, the vulnerability and highs and lows, the give and the take-

People he cared about, cared about him too. And he knew that. Of course he did, but sometimes a reminder had a way of sneaking up on you before blindsiding you with something raw.

Affection. Wonder. Why wonder though? He knew these things didn't he? But sometimes things being spelled out-

She thought all of that of him? She deemed him that important to her?

That was kind of amazing. But it was a surprise, and not a surprise in equal measure.

Because they were friends right? Slowly, gradually, over time they got to this point. Somewhere odd, but strangely comfortable and obvious right?

"Oh," He manages to get out a watery laugh. His vision is misting but he's all grins again. A bright smile has broken across his face as the confusion is blown  away by something giddy.

He slips past the hands on his cheeks, and gives her a hug again. Because why not? How could he not? Not with this odd happy buzz coursing through his lines. The tears would just have to get free reign for a bit. "Neat. Cool. So what do I have to do? Does this mean I get to be one of your 'super best friends?'"

Muddy

Arguably, she was rushing into things - like she had done before and always seemed to do, especially with amica endurae. Jitter had earned the title from her because they were both mechs stumbling into the multiverse and wanted to have an amica to count on if they ever got lost or overwhelmed. Blackout was rewarded with the title after he had taken initiative to search for her while she was lost in the grey and took care of Rigel and Starflare in her absence. Megatron became her amica because he was always willing to act as a pillar of strength for her when disaster struck.

But then Jitter found love and ran away while Blackout became jealous and hateful, and when Megatron got busy with rebuilding Cybertron Blackguard started to wonder if it was them or her. In some cases fault could be found with them, but in all of the cases she was at fault. She rushed into everything, she declared love for them because they had helped her, and made that dependency the foundation of their relationship. It was why she started pushing Sideswipe (and others) away when Redstrike left to go to war; She didn't want to be dependent on them, to fall back into the cycle of rushing into things, and making a moment into a bigger deal than it actually was.

But Sideswipe pushed back. He insisted he was capable of helping her, of comforting her, and doing whatever she needed if she'd only ask for it first - or nothing at all if she truly wanted that. Whatever she needed, he'd provide because they were friends and that's what friends did for each other.

And she cracked.

Maybe this was another disaster in the making. Maybe she was rushing into something again. Maybe they were doomed but she didn't care. She loved him now and he loved her in return, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

"Oh." She mimics him, teasing because it was such a simple word that somehow said so much. Oh, that's why. Oh, wow, you really do care. Oh, this is really happening.

Her arms quickly wrap themselves around him again, falling back into the usual position of an all-consuming, lovingly crushing hug that she had grown use to giving him. A little extra squeeze was given as she chuckles, tickled by his adorable questions and feeling a wave of warmth spread through her frame. "Yeah, you're going to be one my super best friends. And all you have to do is stand back from me a bit, okay?"

Wily

He shakes his helm at the request, but makes no move to let go. Not at first. He allows himself to remain anchored to her for at least a good couple of minutes before he finally relents, tries to wipe his face on his shoulder (the tears just smear), and shuffles back.

Amica Endura. This isn't a title that existed where he was from, and he only learned about it recently. And maybe that unfamiliarity didn't give the words the same weight that they held elsewhere. The same kneejerk meaning.

They didn't need to.

No, the fact that they meant something meaningful to Blackguard, was enough to make it meaningful to him. It meant something to her, and was something precious from where she was from and she was willing to share that with him. That spoke volumes.

Even if titles weren't as clear to him friendship was.

Friendship was a simple yet complicated thing after all. An intricate collection of thousands of little moments and feelings, good and bad that summed together made a bond. A meaningful bond. Through thick or thin right? Like a collection of little threads that could strengthen or fray. It wasn't always easy to maintain them, but they could be added too and the resulting bonds were more than worth it. The care and love and shared experiences good and bad were worth it.

So he didn't know what to expect. He didn't know the customs, and barely remembered the title 'Amica Endura' meant a moment ago. But nevertheless, as a giddy anticipation burned through him. As the knot in his throat grew, he stood expectently and waited. Albeit a little antsy. "Like this?"

Muddy

A couple of seconds versus a couple of minutes versus a couple of hours; There's not much difference between the three beats of time in comparison to the long lasting lifespan of a Transformer. So when you've got two mechs who thrive off of physical affection, extended hugs are bound to happen without anybody noticing or complaining about them - especially in rare moments like these where trouble was put off to the side and happiness was brought to focus. Happiness, and love.

"Just like that." Blackguard assures, 'smilingly' brightly, and resettles into her knelt position before closing her optics. Drawing in a long cycle of air, she holds the breath in her system for a moment before slowly releasing it, the multiple layers of protective metal and plating on her chassis folding back as she exhaled until there was nothing - absolutely nothing - between her spark and Sideswipe.

She opens her optics then casts away her visor, looking directly at him as the light of her spark illuminates his face.

"I bid you stand in the glow of my spark that you may feel the heat of my words and know them to be true. I invite you to receive my light and in doing so becoming Amica Endura—from now until forever. For your kindness and your love of life, both your's and everyone around you. For your boundless energy and your endless humor. For your optimism and your hope." Her digits twitch and in an act of impulse, Blackguard takes Sideswipe's hands in both of hers, then squeezes them. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

Wily

He's stunned.

It takes a moment for his helm to catch up with what he's seeing. He hears the mechanisms in her plating unlatch and fold back. Then there's a light washing them both out, bleaching their colors pale.

Oh.

It's the light of the all of her. And he doesn't know what to do.

Plenty of people had seen Sideswipe's spark before. Mostly during medical checks or as they peiced him back together. So for the longest time Sideswipe knew that exposing it was something that should be avoided simply from a survival perspective.

In the last few years he had learned that there could be more to it than that. He had learned the other implications. What it meant to others to show this part of you. In a variety of ways. He learned through listening, talking, and growing with a love.

Your spark was everything you were. Your core. Your soul. If some were to believed an imprint of your memories. Showing it meant you were at your most vulnerable. To expose it to someone willingly...that meant trust, right? An immense trust.

He didn't know what to expect for this, what she would do, but he hadn't expected this. So, snaps back to the present, pieces together the implications, and it makes him feel lightheaded. Bowled him right over again.

So he stands there brows knitted, optics wide as the air catches in his vent. He tries to say something, but can't. But that's fine because Blackguard is talking instead... Making a pledge of friendship that thunders in his helm, and makes his bottom lip wobble.

So he sucks in a breath, and forgets the curtain of cleanser welled in his optics because it doesn't really matter if he can see. It's really bright anyways.

"I," there for sure are tears but he's never been one to be ashamed to feel things. Why should he? Especially when those things are happy. "I... I don't know what to- You mean all that? I- what am-? Am I supposed to do something back? Like trust falls? I-"

So for a moment he fidgets and panics, and flusters about feeling suddenly on the spot because he's not sure what he should be doing with himself. But if it's a show of trust-

He finally exhales, and his own plating fold back exposing his own light. Spinning like a young star behind the crystal casing, before that shifts back too.

He suddenly looks a little unsure and teary, but still awed under it all. "Um. I'm not whole like you are, and I just have the pieces but..um... samesies?"

A pause.

"....Wow. That was lame of me. Did I just  ruin the thing?"

Muddy

In hindsight, Blackguard realizes a little too late that she should have gone over the intricacies of the ritual with him and spare him the feeling of being lost and overwhelmed in a foreign ceremony. It would have been the polite and intelligent thing to do anyway, but her eagerness to move forward with him pushed aside any and all forethought she could have had at the moment and hurdled them both into the ritual without any hesitation.

That kind of made things a little more special though too, in its own unique way. No two proposals she had previously gone through were the same, but this one was now a special little case of its own because she chose to bare her spark to him and cite the amicable chant, which she hadn't done for the others, and he returned the gesture. It was an unnecessary but wholesome move that forever made the moment special in her spark.

"No." She laughs and pulls one of her hands back to wipe at her optics a moment, whisking away the joyful tears that refused to stop leaking out despite her best efforts to keep them locked down. "No, you did great. What you said was perfect, Sides. Thank you."

And with nothing left to say, with all their love and their truths and their souls laid out, Blackguard pulls Sideswipe in for one last hug - carefully, to keep her spark from lining up with his and doing things it needn't do between them. It still reacts to the presence of another though, glowing brighter as if to reach out with its light, and burning hot in her core. She ignores the urges it feeds her and squeezes with all the strength she dare to use on the little lambo, turning to 'kiss' the top of his helm. "Thank you, Sideswipe. For everything."

Wily

The hug is more than a relief. It's an assurance that he didn't mess up. But more than that it gave him something to do with all that building excited energy. So he clings to her again, teary and laughing even though he doesn't completely understand why. But this feels important.

His crystal casing folds back over his spark, shattering the light through it's surface. And eventually chest plates follow, but even with the light of the room dimmer he's still so very bright.

He feels the press to his helm and laughs, watery as it sounds. "Thanks? I should thank you too." For not writing him off as a dumb kid. For listening. For being there.

He cuddles closer before tipping his helm up, "Sorry for improvising. So is it official? Super special friend status?"

Muddy

"We're official." Another 'kiss' is pressed to the side of his helm and Blackguard gives him one last loving squeeze before pulling away - if only to get enough space to cover up her sparkchamber without pinching him in the process. "Super special best amica friends for life. Or until you get sick of me." She hums, pulling him back in and rocking him around for a bit. "Cause unfortunately for you, I like you too much to get tired of you. So you're stuck with me forever."

Wily

He's laughing, and teary. Once her chest closes back up, as if magnitized, he falls right back against her so those hugs can resume. He doesn't want to let go. Not yet, when he feels flooded by that affection he so desperately craves. "Usually *sniff* I'm the one saying that. So I guess that means you're stuck with me until you get sick of me too."

And you know? He was fine with that. For the long haul, if it meant more moments that felt like this

[onlinemarketinghelp]

16 Reasons to Start a Business http://bit.ly/2UzDPFW

Starting a business can be a life-changing experience. It can also seem like a scary one if you’ve never done it before. So you daydream about it, imagining yourself as rich as Jeff Bezos, as innovative as Sara Blakely, and as ambitious as Jack Ma. Future you is going to dominate the world. But today you is a little bit nervous about what starting a business entails. Truth is, we need future you now more than ever, so let’s break down the reasons to start a business to give you that kick in the butt you desperately need.

16 Reasons to Start a Business

1. Work From Anywhere

There’s something magical about the daydream of you drinking a daiquiri or a beer on the beach working on your laptop at sunset. It almost feels surreal – doing what you love where you’ve always dreamed of being. And while it can be hard to use your laptop with the sun’s glare on your screen, truth is working from anywhere does have its perks. You can run your business from your laptop during a flight to an exotic destination. Or at a coffee shop, library, coworking space, home, and basically any other place with a Wi-Fi connection. Let’s be honest, nobody wants to work in the same boring place all the time. So if you’re looking for the freedom to work anywhere, you can add this to your list of reasons to start a business. You might also find that the digital nomad lifestyle is for you.

Shopify entrepreneur and globetrotter DJ Jammison shares, “I became an entrepreneur so I could take back my time freedom, financial freedom and travel the world. I was forced to drop out of college because I could no longer afford it & then got a job as a custodian. That’s what motivated me. I started my journey in 2013 and I never looked back. I began with Affiliate Marketing and then transitioned to E-commerce with Shopify & Oberlo late 2015. Fast forward to 2019, I run my online business with just a laptop while traveling the world.”

2. It’s in Your Blood

Kyla Denault, Founder of Easy Breezy Dogs, explains, “It’s in my blood. Both my parents were entrepreneurs and they always told me to do something you enjoy and brings you happiness. I have had multiple side hustles from starting the first cage-free dog kennel in Ottawa, to selling Cedar Barrel saunas, selling tea, organizing speed dating events, selling pet products to currently owning Easy Breezy Dog Training. I love the creation of an idea, the research, taking a risk, implementation. My favorite quote that I have hanging in my livingroom is, ‘Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful.”

3. Experience Freedom

If you ask people why they started a business, experiencing freedom would be at the top of most lists. More people are taking Ariana Grande’s 7 Rings advice, “I want it, I got it.” From taking vacations when you want to waking up at any hour of the day, running a business allows complete control over how to schedule your day, your breaks, who you spend time with, what days you work, working around your energy levels, and more. The biggest reason for starting a business is that your life is back under your full control.

4. To Find Others With Similar Interests

Kray Mitchell, Founder of the magic trick accessories store Tricky Fingers, tells us, “I started my current business because I felt there was an opportunity to provide more of an elite branding to magic in Canada. While the classics have their place, I wanted to provide a curated selection of products that were both highly visual and highly rated. I wanted to provide my customers with an amazing experience online and post purchase. I love magic, and I love watching magicians, so the more magicians I help to live their passion, the more I get to enjoy too. It’s win-win.”

5. Feed Your Family

A solid reason to start a business comes down to supporting your family. In life, family comes first always. It’s not just about putting food on the table, it’s also about making sure your family has money to create special memories together with vacations, weekend getaways at the cottage, trips to the amusement park, or a special birthday party for your young child. And it’s important to make sure your children are set up to be successful – tutors, sports or dance classes, hobbies, books, and more. By starting a business, you can help provide a higher quality of life for your family that a 9 to 5 job just can’t match.

6. To Create a Product You Need

Maya Page, Founder of the cannabidiol product store Oilly CBD, explains, “I started my own business because the entire process of purchasing CBD oil frustrated me. I’m just a midwestern mom – I didn’t need chocolate haze-flavored CBD oil! I just needed a clean product that was effective and most importantly, organically grown.

“Since CBD is not yet regulated, there is so much misinformation out there. Each company seems to have different labeling techniques and dosing, which, in the end, left me with more questions than answers. With my background in launching businesses, I decided to go straight to the source.

“I knew others felt my frustrations, so I decided to start my own line. This way, I knew exactly what was in the formula. I started this business out of necessity, but also with the hope to help bridge the gap between an amazing product and the end user.”

7. Escape the 9 to 5

Ugh, the dreadful 9 to 5 job. The 9 to 5 can be a place where your dreams go to die. Why do we invest so much of our energy and time to help others realize their dreams without investing in ourselves first? You deserve to wake up at a time of your choice, work in a career you love, and make money for yourself. And by starting a business, you can do all that and so much more.

8. To Give Back

Arthur Ishkaev, Founder of Strike Your Coin, shares, “I have been collecting coins since my early childhood. I was collecting different kinds of coins from my native country first. Then I started collecting coins from other countries. When we arrived in Canada at the end of 2016 with my family, we noticed all the preparations for the upcoming Canada 150 Anniversary. I thought about how I can contribute to this country that welcomed us so nicely in order to make history! I decided to make a commemorative Canada 150 coin that anyone can strike with a sledge hammer.

“My first souvenir coin turned out to be a big success, driving a lot of interest and also getting me featured on CBC Ottawa News. This has motivated me to start my entrepreneurship journey so that anyone interested can have their personalized coin minted at their event. Now I am invited to weddings and private parties as well as corporate events, and share this joy of striking souvenir coins with all event guests.”

9. Take Ownership of Your Career

Pay raises, promotions, and company guidelines tend to be outside of your control. Whereas when running a business, you get as much as you put into it. If you invest in heavily marketing your products, you’ll generate more sales than someone who didn’t. At your 9 to 5 job, your career growth and income is capped. The average company pay raise is about 3.1% each year. And that pay jump usually coincides with inflation going up so you’re not really making as much money as you think. If you’re looking to advance in your career, the easiest way to do that is to start a business. Why? Because entrepreneurship requires you to learn and master a lot of  business skills allowing you to experience the level of growth your day gig can’t match.

10. You’re Inspired

Mark Ranson, Founder of the fashion store Mark & Vy, shares, “I studied IT at university but it was probably Tim Ferriss’ book, ‘The 4-Hour Workweek’ which solidified the idea that an e-commerce business could really be a viable option for me. I hated the corporate life, being tied to a cubicle for long hours, and I wanted to grow something myself from the ground up. It would take a number of years, moving to Vietnam and meeting my wife before these plans would really come to fruition however.

Vietnam is home to some master tailors and my wife grew up in a tailor’s shop, with many relatives also working in this profession. Our particular passion is traditional Vietnamese dresses called ‘ao dai’, and the amazing quality of the tailoring which goes into every single dress from the best tailors. We wanted to help bring these beautiful, elegant dresses to the world, and particularly those who don’t have access to high quality tailors in the home countries, and hence our brand ‘mark&vy’ was born.”

11. Quit a Job You Hate

Annoying coworkers, bad managers, lack of recognition, and an unfulfilling role can all contribute to the dread you feel every morning before heading to work. Why spend 40 hours a week doing something you hate? Don’t say to make money because there are a ton of ways to make money online. Seriously, why do you keep torturing yourself when there are so many other options. Do you realize how talented you are? Your company interviewed countless people, but they ultimately hired you. If your recruiter and boss believed in you, what’s stopping you from believing in yourself? You can succeed as an entrepreneur. Don’t be the person blocking your own success.

12. Create Jobs

Maybe you grew up in a home where your family lived paycheck to paycheck, or you watched seasonal workers in your family get laid off each year. A popular reason to start a business sometimes comes from wanting to create jobs to help other families. Some entrepreneurs love that they can give back an opportunity that someone once gave them: a paying job. This altruistic reason to start a business leads to a sense of fulfillment and purpose, which keeps entrepreneurs motivated for years to come.

13. To Kill Boredom

Hassan Alnassir, Founder of Premium Joy, says, “I got quite bored from the daily job as an engineer. After several years of service, it felt like a massive waste of my precious time. The working hours were overly long, and I didn’t genuinely love what I was performing. The most attractive alternative to the tedious job which I thought about was establishing my own business and selling products online. Being an entrepreneur would give me back my time and allow me to enjoy working. I initially thought the task of creating the website would be overwhelming, but Shopify made it simple to launch the online store for my business in only one month through customizing an existing theme.”

14. Pursue Your Passion

“Choose a job you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” Motivational quotes like this one from Confucius remind you that you can pursue your passion to live a happier life. And I know that some people will tell you that some passions aren’t profitable to discourage you from doing it. But remember it wasn’t too long ago that video gamers first realized they can make money streaming their game time. And there are beauty bloggers who now make money from video tutorials, selling beauty products, and influencer posts. So remember, if your passion is tied to a niche, you can and will find a way to start a successful business doing what you love.

15. Build Something

Some of today’s most powerful businesses were built by creators. You can create an app, a blog, an online store, an ebook, graphic designs, etc. By taking those creations and promoting it to a relevant audience you can start your journey as an entrepreneur. Many entrepreneurs start businesses because of their obsession with creation. They recognize that their ability to turn nothing into something tangible that’ll help or entertain others motivates them to create more. Creators are the doers of the world which is why it makes perfect sense why so many of them turn to entrepreneurship.

16. Create a Legacy

Unless machines take over our consciousness in our lifetime, there’s a chance that in a few generations after our death we’ll no longer be remembered. Scary thought, I know. So, how can you become memorable? You can build something that outlives you. You can build a business. If you want to be remembered long after you’re gone, you can build a brand that outlives you that continues on for generations. You don’t have to build something innovative or unique, you just need to build something that lasts. You can start with an online store focusing on getting those first few sales. And as the years pass and your brand grows, your impact in that niche can expand into other categories and serve customers in ways they don’t expect. Building a legacy won’t happen overnight. However, the steps you take today can lead to a huge impact in the world a few years from now.

Conclusion

They say that half the battle of building a business is starting. It’s true. Those daydreams you’re living in aren’t real. I know it’s terrifying to take a risk and to take a chance on yourself. But how is it fair that your boss becomes a millionaire when you’re slaving away doing all the work? What skills do you crush your coworkers at that can help you succeed on your own in the long run? Do you want your boss in the driver’s seat when it comes to how much money you make? No. So, who’s ready to start a business? YOU are.

Check out millions of products you can start selling on your own website today.

Want to Learn More?

60 Shopify Stores to Use as Inspiration for Your New Business

30+ Business Ideas for New Entrepreneurs

20 Trending Products You Can Start Selling Today

10 Best Side Hustles That’ll Ease You Out of Your 9 to 5 Job

  The post 16 Reasons to Start a Business appeared first on Oberlo.

from Oberlo

Starting a business can be a life-changing experience. It can also seem like a scary one if you’ve never done it before. So you daydream about it, imagining yourself as rich as Jeff Bezos, as innovative as Sara Blakely, and as ambitious as Jack Ma. Future you is going to dominate the world. But today you is a little bit nervous about what starting a business entails. Truth is, we need future you now more than ever, so let’s break down the reasons to start a business to give you that kick in the butt you desperately need.

16 Reasons to Start a Business

1. Work From Anywhere

There’s something magical about the daydream of you drinking a daiquiri or a beer on the beach working on your laptop at sunset. It almost feels surreal – doing what you love where you’ve always dreamed of being. And while it can be hard to use your laptop with the sun’s glare on your screen, truth is working from anywhere does have its perks. You can run your business from your laptop during a flight to an exotic destination. Or at a coffee shop, library, coworking space, home, and basically any other place with a Wi-Fi connection. Let’s be honest, nobody wants to work in the same boring place all the time. So if you’re looking for the freedom to work anywhere, you can add this to your list of reasons to start a business. You might also find that the digital nomad lifestyle is for you.

Shopify entrepreneur and globetrotter DJ Jammison shares, “I became an entrepreneur so I could take back my time freedom, financial freedom and travel the world. I was forced to drop out of college because I could no longer afford it & then got a job as a custodian. That’s what motivated me. I started my journey in 2013 and I never looked back. I began with Affiliate Marketing and then transitioned to E-commerce with Shopify & Oberlo late 2015. Fast forward to 2019, I run my online business with just a laptop while traveling the world.”

2. It’s in Your Blood

Kyla Denault, Founder of Easy Breezy Dogs, explains, “It’s in my blood. Both my parents were entrepreneurs and they always told me to do something you enjoy and brings you happiness. I have had multiple side hustles from starting the first cage-free dog kennel in Ottawa, to selling Cedar Barrel saunas, selling tea, organizing speed dating events, selling pet products to currently owning Easy Breezy Dog Training. I love the creation of an idea, the research, taking a risk, implementation. My favorite quote that I have hanging in my livingroom is, ‘Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful.”

3. Experience Freedom

If you ask people why they started a business, experiencing freedom would be at the top of most lists. More people are taking Ariana Grande’s 7 Rings advice, “I want it, I got it.” From taking vacations when you want to waking up at any hour of the day, running a business allows complete control over how to schedule your day, your breaks, who you spend time with, what days you work, working around your energy levels, and more. The biggest reason for starting a business is that your life is back under your full control.

4. To Find Others With Similar Interests

Kray Mitchell, Founder of the magic trick accessories store Tricky Fingers, tells us, “I started my current business because I felt there was an opportunity to provide more of an elite branding to magic in Canada. While the classics have their place, I wanted to provide a curated selection of products that were both highly visual and highly rated. I wanted to provide my customers with an amazing experience online and post purchase. I love magic, and I love watching magicians, so the more magicians I help to live their passion, the more I get to enjoy too. It’s win-win.”

5. Feed Your Family

A solid reason to start a business comes down to supporting your family. In life, family comes first always. It’s not just about putting food on the table, it’s also about making sure your family has money to create special memories together with vacations, weekend getaways at the cottage, trips to the amusement park, or a special birthday party for your young child. And it’s important to make sure your children are set up to be successful – tutors, sports or dance classes, hobbies, books, and more. By starting a business, you can help provide a higher quality of life for your family that a 9 to 5 job just can’t match.

6. To Create a Product You Need

Maya Page, Founder of the cannabidiol product store Oilly CBD, explains, “I started my own business because the entire process of purchasing CBD oil frustrated me. I’m just a midwestern mom – I didn’t need chocolate haze-flavored CBD oil! I just needed a clean product that was effective and most importantly, organically grown.

“Since CBD is not yet regulated, there is so much misinformation out there. Each company seems to have different labeling techniques and dosing, which, in the end, left me with more questions than answers. With my background in launching businesses, I decided to go straight to the source.

“I knew others felt my frustrations, so I decided to start my own line. This way, I knew exactly what was in the formula. I started this business out of necessity, but also with the hope to help bridge the gap between an amazing product and the end user.”

7. Escape the 9 to 5

Ugh, the dreadful 9 to 5 job. The 9 to 5 can be a place where your dreams go to die. Why do we invest so much of our energy and time to help others realize their dreams without investing in ourselves first? You deserve to wake up at a time of your choice, work in a career you love, and make money for yourself. And by starting a business, you can do all that and so much more.

8. To Give Back

Arthur Ishkaev, Founder of Strike Your Coin, shares, “I have been collecting coins since my early childhood. I was collecting different kinds of coins from my native country first. Then I started collecting coins from other countries. When we arrived in Canada at the end of 2016 with my family, we noticed all the preparations for the upcoming Canada 150 Anniversary. I thought about how I can contribute to this country that welcomed us so nicely in order to make history! I decided to make a commemorative Canada 150 coin that anyone can strike with a sledge hammer.

“My first souvenir coin turned out to be a big success, driving a lot of interest and also getting me featured on CBC Ottawa News. This has motivated me to start my entrepreneurship journey so that anyone interested can have their personalized coin minted at their event. Now I am invited to weddings and private parties as well as corporate events, and share this joy of striking souvenir coins with all event guests.”

9. Take Ownership of Your Career

Pay raises, promotions, and company guidelines tend to be outside of your control. Whereas when running a business, you get as much as you put into it. If you invest in heavily marketing your products, you’ll generate more sales than someone who didn’t. At your 9 to 5 job, your career growth and income is capped. The average company pay raise is about 3.1% each year. And that pay jump usually coincides with inflation going up so you’re not really making as much money as you think. If you’re looking to advance in your career, the easiest way to do that is to start a business. Why? Because entrepreneurship requires you to learn and master a lot of  business skills allowing you to experience the level of growth your day gig can’t match.

10. You’re Inspired

Mark Ranson, Founder of the fashion store Mark & Vy, shares, “I studied IT at university but it was probably Tim Ferriss’ book, ‘The 4-Hour Workweek’ which solidified the idea that an e-commerce business could really be a viable option for me. I hated the corporate life, being tied to a cubicle for long hours, and I wanted to grow something myself from the ground up. It would take a number of years, moving to Vietnam and meeting my wife before these plans would really come to fruition however.

Vietnam is home to some master tailors and my wife grew up in a tailor’s shop, with many relatives also working in this profession. Our particular passion is traditional Vietnamese dresses called ‘ao dai’, and the amazing quality of the tailoring which goes into every single dress from the best tailors. We wanted to help bring these beautiful, elegant dresses to the world, and particularly those who don’t have access to high quality tailors in the home countries, and hence our brand ‘mark&vy’ was born.”

11. Quit a Job You Hate

Annoying coworkers, bad managers, lack of recognition, and an unfulfilling role can all contribute to the dread you feel every morning before heading to work. Why spend 40 hours a week doing something you hate? Don’t say to make money because there are a ton of ways to make money online. Seriously, why do you keep torturing yourself when there are so many other options. Do you realize how talented you are? Your company interviewed countless people, but they ultimately hired you. If your recruiter and boss believed in you, what’s stopping you from believing in yourself? You can succeed as an entrepreneur. Don’t be the person blocking your own success.

12. Create Jobs

Maybe you grew up in a home where your family lived paycheck to paycheck, or you watched seasonal workers in your family get laid off each year. A popular reason to start a business sometimes comes from wanting to create jobs to help other families. Some entrepreneurs love that they can give back an opportunity that someone once gave them: a paying job. This altruistic reason to start a business leads to a sense of fulfillment and purpose, which keeps entrepreneurs motivated for years to come.

13. To Kill Boredom

Hassan Alnassir, Founder of Premium Joy, says, “I got quite bored from the daily job as an engineer. After several years of service, it felt like a massive waste of my precious time. The working hours were overly long, and I didn’t genuinely love what I was performing. The most attractive alternative to the tedious job which I thought about was establishing my own business and selling products online. Being an entrepreneur would give me back my time and allow me to enjoy working. I initially thought the task of creating the website would be overwhelming, but Shopify made it simple to launch the online store for my business in only one month through customizing an existing theme.”

14. Pursue Your Passion

“Choose a job you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” Motivational quotes like this one from Confucius remind you that you can pursue your passion to live a happier life. And I know that some people will tell you that some passions aren’t profitable to discourage you from doing it. But remember it wasn’t too long ago that video gamers first realized they can make money streaming their game time. And there are beauty bloggers who now make money from video tutorials, selling beauty products, and influencer posts. So remember, if your passion is tied to a niche, you can and will find a way to start a successful business doing what you love.

15. Build Something

Some of today’s most powerful businesses were built by creators. You can create an app, a blog, an online store, an ebook, graphic designs, etc. By taking those creations and promoting it to a relevant audience you can start your journey as an entrepreneur. Many entrepreneurs start businesses because of their obsession with creation. They recognize that their ability to turn nothing into something tangible that’ll help or entertain others motivates them to create more. Creators are the doers of the world which is why it makes perfect sense why so many of them turn to entrepreneurship.

16. Create a Legacy

Unless machines take over our consciousness in our lifetime, there’s a chance that in a few generations after our death we’ll no longer be remembered. Scary thought, I know. So, how can you become memorable? You can build something that outlives you. You can build a business. If you want to be remembered long after you’re gone, you can build a brand that outlives you that continues on for generations. You don’t have to build something innovative or unique, you just need to build something that lasts. You can start with an online store focusing on getting those first few sales. And as the years pass and your brand grows, your impact in that niche can expand into other categories and serve customers in ways they don’t expect. Building a legacy won’t happen overnight. However, the steps you take today can lead to a huge impact in the world a few years from now.

Conclusion

They say that half the battle of building a business is starting. It’s true. Those daydreams you’re living in aren’t real. I know it’s terrifying to take a risk and to take a chance on yourself. But how is it fair that your boss becomes a millionaire when you’re slaving away doing all the work? What skills do you crush your coworkers at that can help you succeed on your own in the long run? Do you want your boss in the driver’s seat when it comes to how much money you make? No. So, who’s ready to start a business? YOU are.

Check out millions of products you can start selling on your own website today.

Want to Learn More?

60 Shopify Stores to Use as Inspiration for Your New Business

30+ Business Ideas for New Entrepreneurs

20 Trending Products You Can Start Selling Today

10 Best Side Hustles That’ll Ease You Out of Your 9 to 5 Job

  The post 16 Reasons to Start a Business appeared first on Oberlo.

http://bit.ly/2Gm2wgm April 15, 2019 at 04:00AM http://bit.ly/2UXmhTB

[norihisahyuga-archived]

Two Dates

Hidari Shotaro/Philip/Hino Eiji/Ankh, Hidari Shotaro/Ankh, Philip/Hino Eiji Kamen Rider W/OOO 2500~ words. Sfw.

Philip suggests they need to change up their usual partner configuration for dating. Shotaro is not enthused about taking a grouchy bird out on a date. Like so many times before, Philip is right. This is stupidly fluffy, self-indulgent OT4 cuteness for my favorite partner combos.

In the seven or so months they had attempted at making this relationship work, they had never split off into pairs like this. Philip had chided him about not realizing they needed to do this, to fully work out that the four of them were compatible enough to make this work out.

Shotaro feels stupid for not realizing it himself, but he gets along well enough with Eiji and Philip and Ankh get along beautifully, so he never really stopped to think that they needed to switch their usual partners up a bit to make sure there were no obstacles in their path they had not become aware of yet. And even knowing that, he’s dragging his feet on this more than any person has any right to. In his defense, Ankh loves to insult him and calls him “half-boiled” even more than Philip.

For approximately the sixth time this morning, he whines pitifully and thumps his forehead down on his desk, earning a sigh from where Philip sits on their bed, reading one of his many books. Though Eiji and Ankh were supposed to have come by this morning, it’s closing in on noon and there has been no word from either of them as to why they happen to be late. Shotaro hopes nothing has happened to them at the same time he hopes something inconvenient but not dangerous to their health has come up so they have to call this whole thing off.

“For someone who was very insistent about giving this arrangement a chance, you seem very upset at the idea of spending alone time with Ankh.” Philip’s tone is dry, and he doesn’t raise his eyes from the book in front of him. “If Eiji can get along with him, then you should be fine.”

Shotaro pouts at him. “Easy for you to say, you two always get along with each other, and you would have to be an actual monster not to get along with Eiji.” He doesn’t add that, in fact, Ankh was an actual monster, or at least he had been until his time with Eiji softened him around the edges, but that doesn’t change the fact he had never been anything close to human.

The sound of a pair of bikes pulling up downstairs makes him whine louder and lean back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling and wondering just how badly today could possibly go. Philip has it easy, of course, since Eiji gets along with everyone he meets, a buoyant personality giving him warmth and personality in spades, and Shotaro had been drawn to him almost since the moment they first met. It had been obvious to him that the two of them were meant to meet each other, so perfectly in sync with most of their feelings that spending time with Eiji just comes naturally to him. Ankh is… Different. Bird of flames or not, he’s frosty at best and tends to make most people back away from him with the harsh edges of his personality and the sharpness of his tongue. How Philip has managed to get through that to whoever he happens to be at his core is beyond Shotaro; he had managed it with Philip, but Philip was never as cruel as Ankh could be.

The sound of footsteps approaching their door has both Shotaro and Philip rising at the same time, Philip crossing the room in quick strides while Shotaro hangs back. It’s usually the opposite with them, but Shotaro doesn’t know how Ankh will react to seeing him as Eiji had been the one who conveyed Philip’s wishes to him, and had simply told Shotaro and Philip that Ankh was willing to try. That didn’t have to mean he was happy about it, though.

On the other hand, it’s nice to see Philip being affectionate with their new boyfriends as something as ordinary as affection had come slower to Philip. He hugs Eiji first, brushing a kiss over his lips that makes Eiji beam and bounce on the balls of his feet, and then Ankh, and Shotaro tilts his head a little to watch that, because both Philip and Ankh are striking, all hard lines and sharp contrast, but there’s a lot of beauty in their differences.

“Sorry we’re late,” Eiji says, and Shotaro finally crosses the rest of the room to pull Eiji into his own arms, nuzzling into his windswept hair fondly. “Cous Coussier was extra busy and I didn’t want to leave Chiyoko with too much work to handle just so I could go on a date, y’know? It wouldn’t be fair. And someone was supposed to let me know the time, but he was asleep.”

Ankh makes a tch noise at them and Shotaro raises an eyebrow at him; the sound reminds him so much of Wakana Sonozaki that it’s vaguely startling, and he wonders what Philip thinks of it. “I was taking a much-deserved nap. The heat is insufferable enough as it is.” Ankh doesn’t have to explain it; being a creature made of flames must make summers that much harder on him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Shotaro picks his favorite hat off the wall, then holds out a hand. “Shall we?”

“Are we just hanging around the office?” Eiji asks after Shotaro and Philip have gone, and Philip stands back a moment to admire him, dressed in so many soft and breezy layers.

“No. I couldn’t very well demand Shotaro take initiative to take Ankh out and then expect you to stay cooped up in here with me.” Philip picks up the shoulder bag that Akiko had given him, insistent he needed somewhere to store his books on the go, and holds out his hand. “Let’s go.”

The way Eiji’s face lights up makes Philip’s heart swell. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a very good surprise, now would it?” He beckons with his fingers and Eiji finally takes him by the hand, giving his hand a squeeze as he allows Philip to lead them both out of the apartment. “Besides, I really want to surprise you if I can.”

Eiji’s big brown eyes only widen further. “What’s the occasion? What did I do to get a surprise?”

“You don’t have to do anything for a surprise,” Philip says. “I just wanted to do it for you.”

He had been debating about what he could do with Eiji that would be special for him, someone who had been all over the world and who had grown up in a life of luxury that had afforded him the ability to want for nothing for most of his life. Philip, too, had grown up more than rich enough, but most of his life was still a questionable blur to him filled in with the gaps he’s gained from reading the book about his own life. Actual memories of his childhood were gone, probably never to be regained no matter what he tried. It wasn’t quite the same for Eiji, even if he too had memories that had haunted him and shaped him into the person he is today.

He knows Futo is still unfamiliar to Eiji, which gave him a few advantages in choosing something.

“I’ve not come here with anyone but Shotaro since we dealt with my family,” he says, leading Eiji toward the front doors of the building. “This structure used to belong to them.”

Eiji blinks up at the building, then looks over at him. “It’s a museum, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Philip agrees. “My father owned it. I used to help him at excavation sites, though I remember precious few of those memories. It’s usually very strange being here.”

Of course, Eiji smiles softly at him, bringing Philip’s hand to his lips. “Why bring me here, then?”

“Because you like to travel, and you appreciate culture,” Philip says. “This place has that.”

Of course, the interior of the museum has changed greatly since the Sonozaki family owned it, and Philip can’t help but feel it’s much brighter now, much cleaner, the darkness swept away. It may be a purely mental sensation of course, given that the museum had seemed shadowy and inherently dark to him because of his associations with it. Maybe just having Eiji next to him is just one of the few ways he will ever be able to feel comfortable in this place again.

It takes Eiji approximately five seconds to start dragging Philip around by the hand, intently examining every single exhibit he can find. “This is all so cool,” he murmurs.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” And he is, he genuinely is, and he leans in to press a kiss to Eiji’s cheek in front of the T-Rex exhibit.

Eiji apparently decides that isn’t good enough because he turns his body around, giving Philip’s hand a squeeze before using his free hand to cradle Philip’s cheek and pull him in for a proper kiss. As always, Eiji’s lips are warm and soft and sweeter than they have any right to be, and he kisses with an openness and an affection that spreads warmth first through Philip’s cheeks and then down through the rest of his body. He smiles into the kiss and slides a hand into Eiji’s hair, the strands incredibly soft beneath his fingertips, taking in how eagerly Eiji kisses him, a sharp contrast to how solemn Philip always feels when he walks into this building. When Eiji pulls away, Philip has to stop himself from going with him, trying to capture his lips once again.

“I love it here. I’d love to come here with you more often.” Eiji takes both of Philip’s hands in his, pressing kisses to them. “Mostly, I just love that you brought me here. Thank you, Philip.”

Philip smiles softly, kissing the corner of Eiji’s mouth. “My pleasure.”

Across town, Shotaro was, predictably, having a much more difficult time with Ankh.

“It’s too hot to be out and about like this,” Ankh informs him for perhaps the seventh time since they left the office, stubbornly refusing to remove his leather jacket all the while even though Shotaro had pointed out leather isn’t known for being a cool fabric. “Where are we going?”

Shotaro resists the urge to roll his eyes, telling himself to focus on where Ankh has also refused to release his hand since taking it at the door. “If I told you, it would spoil the surprise.”

Ankh scowls at him but falls back into his regular moody silence, glancing around them as they walk, no doubt trying to take in as many details as he can manage. After all, he isn’t familiar with Futo in the way that Shotaro is, and though Shotaro wonders if Ankh has come to like the city, he doesn’t want to ask. He loves Futo too much to invite someone to insult his city.

What he does know is that Ankh is pleased by the wind in the city, having once told Eiji it would be perfect for flying at night when no one else can see him. Most of the pedestrians are home in bed during the late hours when Ankh takes to the skies to lose himself for just a little while.

“It had better be worth all of this heat,” Ankh finally says, scowling up at him, the wind doing its best to sweep his curls into his eyes. “Why is it so hot here during the summer anyway?”

The question is an interesting one, and Shotaro wants to ask him exactly what he means by that and where he had been prior to now where the summers were not so hot. Even then, though, Ankh does have a point. This summer has been unseasonably hot and even Shotaro feels a little uncomfortable in his button-up and vest despite wearing them every day no matter the heat.

“It’s unusually hot weather, so even I’m not sure why,” he finally responds, and though Ankh doesn’t look pleased by that answer, he nods along as though it at least makes sense to him. “I promise we’re almost there, though. Can you hold out for another ten minutes or so?”

Ankh tilts his head in that strange, not entirely human way of his, and Shotaro makes a note to study birds, to see if they move their heads in such a way. “I suppose I can try.”

In just under ten minutes, they round the street corner and stop in front of the shop Shotaro was aiming for. The ice cream parlor is easily one of his favorite little nooks in the city, and once Ankh takes a minute to read the sign and recognize the ice cream cone emblazoned on the sign, his eyes light up. It’s rare to see him smile without that self-loathing edge to the shape of his mouth.

“Ice cream,” he murmurs, and Shotaro can’t help but laugh a little at his reaction.

“The best in Futo,” he confirms. “Eiji said the heat was bothering you. Ice cream is cold.”

Ankh snorts at him. “Many things are cold. Ice cream is better than just anything cold.”

“I’ll give you that one. Come on inside and get what you want. It’s my treat,” Shotaro says.

The shop owner blinks wide eyes at Shotaro when he walks up to the counter with Ankh, their fingers still twined between their bodies, but Shotaro doesn’t offer up an explanation. Instead, he just patiently explains the differences between the ice cream on the menu to Ankh, figuring he must have just eaten whatever was in the freezer to not know this, then waits for him to order.

“Are you sure about this?” Ankh asks, suspiciously eyeing Shotaro’s wallet when he retrieves it.

“I’m sure. Give me my hand, I need it,” Shotaro says, shaking Ankh off so he can pay for them.

He knows how birds eat, knows that they usually gulp their food down in huge bites rather than picking at little bits and pieces like the expression suggests. But watching Ankh demolish one third of a banana split sundae without stopping making Shotaro’s head ache as if he’s gotten brain freeze just watching. Maybe Ankh doesn’t feel that because he’s a phoenix deep beneath his skin; Shotaro will have to inquire that to Philip, who’s starting to become an expert on them.

When Ankh looks up to see Shotaro studying him, Shotaro sees the small dollop of whipped cream on the end of his nose, no doubt a result of nearly shoving his face into his food. Instead of handing him a napkin, Shotaro stand up and leans forward just enough to piss the whipped cream off of his face, able to feel the slight aura of heat that always wraps around Ankh like a cocoon. This time, Ankh doesn’t scowl at him. He just twitches his nose before returning to his ice cream, but Shotaro still sees the flicker of a smile curl his lips before he takes another bite.

He was being ridiculous, and Philip was right, and it’s well worth the “I told you so” he’s going to get when he returns home. Worth it just to know he put a smile on Ankh’s face.

[markwatkinsconsumerguide]

Consumer Guide / No.59 /  writer / author, Tony Norman with Mark Watkins. 

MW : Describe your ideal weekend....

TN : Saturday mornings will often find me writing a new song for one of the groups I sing with, BeatNicz and the OTB band. In the football season I may go and see Brighton play in the afternoon. Summer it will be a cricket match. Saturday night is curry night and may it ever be so! Sunday I often rehearse with OTB. Live music, nothing like it…

MW : Which publication can’t you live without, and why?

TN : The Beano. I grew up with Dennis as a boy. Then I worked as a trainee journalist for the company who created him, D.C. Thomson of Dundee. These days the Beano is online and Dennis has lost some of his ‘Menace’ but it’s still a weekly treat in this wicked old world.

MW : What comics did you read as a kid and what led you to writing a pop column for 'Jackie'?

TN : Beano was my favourite, but Dan Dare in full colour in the Eagle was exciting too. I’d been with D.C. Thomson for about a year when I was offered the gig as London Pop Correspondent for Jackie magazine. I’d been playing in a semi-pro London Mod band for three years, so it was a dream job for me. Journalist Nina Myskow was the big name in the Dundee office and I always enjoyed meeting her when she came on working trips to London. A great character.

MW : What's involved as music consultant?

TN : My gig at Jackie was to interview bands and singers and to keep tabs on what was happening. I was with Jackie in ’67 and ’68 and at that time London was the centre of the rock world. A wonderful time to be young, free and single. I even got to meet The Beatles!

MW : What makes a good rock writer?

TN : You have to know your audience. Writing for Jackie was a very good training ground. I had to use a bright and breezy style for our teenage readers. It took nine weeks for something I had written to appear in print, so you had to develop the knack of avoiding any subjects that would date too quickly. Not easy at a time when the music world seemed to change every week, but I got the hang of it. Valuable lessons learnt.

MW : and ... a good interviewer?

TN : Leave your ego at home! The most important person at any interview is the one answering the questions. I always tried to get to know what musicians were like behind their image. A good interviewer must have a genuine interest in other people and the lives they are living.

MW : Tell me about your encounters with “The Legend” Marc Bolan. If Marc was alive today, how might his music career have progressed?

TN : Marc and I became friends when I was working on a weekly called Top Pops & Music Now. I liked him from the start, when he was still building his career. We had space for a double page spread feature the week I first met Marc. I suggested to my editor that we use the Bolan interview along with some excellent Tyrannosaurus Rex colour shots of him and Steve Peregrin Took.

The following week Marc called me to ask if we’d used the interview. When I told him he had a double page spread he was over the proverbial… an hour later he was at our office to say thanks and pick up 20 copies. I remember him waving and smiling as he and his wife June drove off through the London traffic on that sunny morning. Feels like yesterday: good times.

If Marc had lived, music would still be part of his life and I’m sure he’d be involved with many other creative projects too. Such a warm and charismatic person: a terrible loss.

MW : Back in 1982, I bought 'Drowning In Berlin' on 7" vinyl ; how did you come to manage The Mobiles, and why weren't they more successful in the charts?

TN : I helped the band to form in our home town of Eastbourne. They had a great live following, but we were still amazed when ‘Berlin’ hit the charts. It finally climbed to number 9 and sold over 250,000 copies.

A few months later, Russ Madge wrote an even better song, ‘Victim of the Services’. We all knew it was special. Great vocals from lead singer Anna Maria and strings from members of the London Philharmonic Orchestra. We were working on the final mix prior to releasing the single in April ’82. Everything was looking good, then the Falklands War started.

The BBC, quite rightly, banned airplay of any songs about soldiers and war. Our song was nothing to do with the Falklands, but we got caught up in the backlash. The single wasn’t released and the Mobiles never had another hit. The music world can be a cruel place sometimes.

MW : Tell me about your autobiography... My Cool Sixties – Lennon, Jagger & The Rest and what did you learn most by writing it?

TN : I learnt how enjoyable it was to write about one of the happiest times of my life! When I was sixteen I had two ambitions. The first to become a rock writer; the second to play on TV show Ready Steady Go with my mates in The Rest.

Well, as they say, one out of two ain’t bad. In the book I describe interviewing John Lennon and Mick Jagger and seeing George Harrison at Apple, the Beatles’ HQ in Savile Row, London. All pretty mind-blowing. I also trace my journey through 60’s London with my mates in The Rest, including all-night gigs in Soho where we became part of a bizarre midnight world… and loved it.

I also wrote some new songs to accompany the book. They will be included in the My Cool Sixties Deluxe Edition we will be publishing in 2018.

MW : You're Head Writer for a new book called, London Rock – The Lost Archive, tell me about that...

TN : Alec Byrne and I were great mates in the Sixties and Seventies. He was a top photographer, covering everyone from The Beatles, Stones and Hendrix, to the Who, Beach Boys, Bowie and so many more. Over the years, Alec’s rock archive has been hit by fire, ocean storms and an earthquake, but the stunning images that survived fill this book. I talked with Alec about his photographs and he was happy to take me ‘behind the scenes’ and explain how those iconic photo shoots came about.

MW : Single out a few of the key moments / landmarks in the book...

TN : My personal favourites are the live shots of The Rolling Stones in the Park ’69, because Alec and I were there together and that concert sums up how lucky we were to be at the heart of it all when all eyes were on London. A few days after the gig in Hyde Park, Alec was at the funeral of Brian Jones. I find his photograph of Brian’s coffin in an open grave very moving. Alec always had an eye for special shots that captured a moment in time.

MW : Who is the book aimed at, and what are you aiming for in terms of its reception and place in the canon of rock writing / photography?

TN : Alec’s best photographs selected themselves for inclusion in the book. Alec and I worked on the text to tell readers what it was like to be right there in London when the shots were being taken. I guess Baby Boomers will be the primary audience, but I think younger people will want to find out more about that amazing era too.

What London Rock does so well is celebrate Alec’s outstanding archive of rock star images taken at a time when London really did rock! The photographs have been on display in art galleries in London and Los Angeles and the feedback has been so positive.

It has been the same in the media with Alec giving TV, radio and online interviews. (See below.) Alec’s ‘unseen archive’ was hidden away for far too long, but thanks to his agent Drew Evans and publishers Insight Editions and Virgin books, all those iconic images are out there now for sure. Great project: loved being part of it.

MW : Where can we find out more / buy the books?

TN : London Rock by Alec Byrne is published in the UK by Virgin Books.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/London-Rock-Archive-Alec-Byrne/dp/0753550008/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1514477615&sr=1-1&keywords=london+rock+the+unseen+archive

London Rock by Alec Byrne is published in the USA by Insight Editions.

https://www.amazon.com/London-Rock-Archive-Alec-Byrne/dp/1608878848

Alec Byrne TV interview on CBS Los Angeles.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1sXyKNkY8I&sns=tw …

Mail Online interview with Alec Byrne.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-5145525/Alec-Byrne-showcases-unseen-photo-archive-including-Jagger.html

Alec Byrne’s London Rock: The Unseen Archive photographic exhibition runs at Proud Central gallery in London to 28th January. https://www.proudonline.co.uk/exhibitions

My Cool Sixties – Lennon, Jagger & The Rest, Deluxe Edition will be published as an e-book in 2018 and will feature original text, plus songs from the My Cool Sixties album and a new Foreword from writer Tony Norman. The original book attracted many glowing reviews. See reviews, play album tracks and learn more about Tony’s career at his website.

www.tonynorman.com

https://twitter.com/mycoolsixties

Footnote : 

Thanks to Sarah Garnham at Ebury Publishing, giving permissions for ‘Consumer Guide’ to use three images from London Rock i.e the actual book cover, T Rex & David Bowie.

© Mark Watkins / January 2018