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thefandomcassandra · 10 hours ago

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hallowed be thy unknown Ch9: Tokusatsu Haunting 5: Gillyflower and Hemlock

"I keep telling you that you don't have to apologize. You were doing your job." Cody's mom tried to get Maya to stand up from her deep, flat bow. It didn't matter. She still felt awful. Cody had cried because of her, had been put on the spot, had to admit to seeing something terrible. Even if he said it was okay, even if he smiled at her, it didn't matter.

"Still, I—"

"Miss Fey," Maya raised her head, the woman's soft tone almost startling, "Cody is fine. You did what you had to, within the constraints of the system. And it was upsetting, but we both knew that going in. The way you pivoted to yes or no questions helped. Cody wanted to thank you himself but he fell asleep pretty quickly afterwards." In her arms, her son nuzzled himself closer to her chest.

Unsure she could speak without apologizing again, choked with emotions she didn't have the right words for, Maya just nodded.

Cody's mom smiled at her, warm and comforting. "So long as you keep doing what you're doing, you'll be fine."

She choked out a thick, "I'll try."

It's all she can do at this point. She's already fought so hard; why would she stop?

"Hey, Maya? Look at the kid." Maya did what Nick suggested, subtly glancing over at Cody curled up in his mom's arms. "See how he's sleeping?" He paused, giving her enough time to process what he said before continuing on. "He might have cried, but he felt safe enough to sleep. You didn't mess it up. He trusted you with that last piece of evidence and he's alright."

Cody sighed and nuzzled deeper into his mother's hold.

(How did it feel, to be held like that? Was it warm? Comforting? Was it simply because she was his mother, or would any trusted adult have elicited the same measure of trust? The bitter taste of jealousy coated the back of her throat.)

They had one day left. One day for investigation. One day for court. One last day to prove her client innocent.

The pressure felt awful but—

"I have to go talk to my client." Maya said to Cody's mom. She tried to keep her voice low as to not disturb Cody.

"Good luck."

"Like I said: I'll try." It was, after all, all she could do. Promising any more would be tempting fate. But she could try, at the very least.

Will Powers wasn't too far away. One of the bailiffs was standing with him, unwilling to let him be unsupervised but not ready to take him back to the detention center. When he saw Maya, he moved to stand up but winced and sat back down. The bailiff stiffened but didn't move to do anything.

"At least they didn't assume he was trying to leave." At least there was that.

She wasn't sure she could handle him being charged with attempted escape from custody on top of the murder charge. She might cry.

"Is he okay?" He was worried about Cody. That was...that was sweet, actually.

"He's asleep." Will Powers' shoulders slumped and he leaned back, tension bleeding out of him.

"That's good."

"Yeah..." What to say, what to say?

Will Powers broke the silence of his own accord, twisting a napkin between his fingers as he spoke. "Hammer really— he really did all that?"

"Yeah..." Nick sighed. Maya echoed him.

"There's evidence proving he did, yes."

"Why?" His voice wobbled and cracked. Maya felt really really bad for him. "I don't think I've done anything to make him upset. I - he was one of my favorite actors as a teen! The Samurai films were part of why I got into acting, even, yknow, looking like this." He gestured at his face and build with the hand gripping the twisted-up napkin. "I know I'm not the best in the world but we were— we didn't have issues insofar as I knew."

What could she even say? "I...don't know. All I can do— all we can do is speculate. And that won't help our case."

Will Powers took a deep breath in and exhaled, slow and loud, a terrified sheep masquerading as a big bad wolf. "Yeah...it probably won't help."

"Before they take you back to the detention center, I had a couple questions for you." Business face on, Maya straightened the hem of her jacket, tugged at her sleeves, and pulled her notebook out of her pocket, uncapping her current favorite pen so she could write down anything said. "Do you think you have the energy?"

"For you? Of course." Warmth bloomed in Maya's chest but she kept it down, kept her face as professionally still as she could, even if she wanted to cry. "Ask away."

"You said Vasquez-san saved Global, or at least helped the studio out of a bad position?" Maya flipped through her notebook to find where she'd written down that information. "She supposedly came in and, quote, 'fixed things up', unquote. Can you clarify that in any way?"

"Well...," Will Powers' mouth wrenched into a knot to mirror the napkin he was messing with, "I...hm."

"Unwilling or incapable?" Nick wondered. "He was singing her praises yesterday, as was everyone. What changed?"

"Any information is helpful," she coaxed, "no matter how small."

"The problem is that all I know about Global Studio's issues at the time is hearsay and rumor. I don't want to go about spreading stuff like that."

"Valid concern."

"Anything said to me is said with a certain degree of confidence. I'm not going to sell your information to the press, I promise." It'd be a bad look, after all. Would make her no better than Grossberg or Redd White.

That seemed, at least to Maya, to alleviate some of Will Powers' discomfort. He eased up on his napkin and gave it a moment's more thought. "Like I said yesterday: she made Global into what it is now. They were...I think it was a money thing or maybe a scandal thing? I don't know specifics, but maybe Ms. Oldbag does?"

"We do have to give her the apology gionbō," Nick pointed out.

They did have to give her the apology gionbō. That was true. "I'll ask her about it when I have the chance. Don't worry," Maya hurriedly assured Will Powers, "your name won't come up."

He relaxed, shoulders slumping. "Thanks."

"And you're sure Jack Hammer didn't have any reason to frame you specifically?" She didn't like prodding this wound but she needed some clarity on the matter. "Not even a perceived slight?"

"He wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but he was being exploited. Unless he had a problem with me I was unaware of, then I have no idea why he might've tried to frame me for murder." That was the most firm Maya had ever heard Will Powers sound. No words had ever come out of his mouth with more conviction.

He truly didn't know, nor could he fathom a reason for his co-star to go out of his way to drug him and try and frame him for a crime—likely a murder attempt.

"Thanks. I'll come see you in the detention center if anything else comes up, okay?" Then, as an afterthought, "Also, do you have a favorite fruit?"

Will Powers blinked at her. "Huh?"

"I've brought apples and mikan oranges but I figure I should ask you directly. Any fruit you like? Peaches? Apricot? Persimmon?" When he didn't answer, Maya clarified, "Breakfast tomorrow."

"Oh!" She felt embarrassed that she hadn't communicated that thought well enough but at least he picked up what she was putting down. "Um, the mikan were nice. I don't really have a preference or any allergies. Whatever you have is good."

Hm. "Then I'll surprise you!" Maya grinned at him as she tucked her notebook back into her pocket. "See you later Powers-san!"

"Uh, Ms. Maya?" She stopped and watched Will Powers carefully. "Thank you. Again."

Nick snorted. "How many times are you two going to do this?" He rolled over mid-air and watched them with a wide smile.

"Thank you for choosing me as your lawyer. With your reputation, you could have easily had anyone but you picked me."

"You offered. And—" He fought with his thoughts for a brief moment, trying to order his words before he spoke. It was obvious, written across his face. No wonder he was a suit actor. "I do this job, acting and all, because of kids like you and Cody. Knowing that I'm helping people..."

Maya faintly smiled. "I get that."

He smiled back. "So, uh, yeah, thank you."

"No worries!" So long as she kept moving, she wouldn't think too deeply about it. She could maintain the kind lie of a selfless young girl, even if it was for someone else's benefit.

Be like Mia. —— Oldbag let them pass without so much as a word, although Maya did hand over her apology gionbō—packaged nicely with a handwritten card that read 'Sorry for falsely accusing you!'—and received a dry harrumph from the older woman in return. Still, it seemed like whatever bad blood they might've fostered between them was quickly fading with time and effort, which was good. Maya wasn't in the business of making enemies of old women, especially old women who were just doing their job.

The first place on their checklist was the Employee Lounge. Due to dropping the bombshell regarding the sleeping pills, it was very likely that whatever police force was at Global would be mostly concentrated there and at Studio Two. If they were lucky, their favorite cop would be in the Employee Lounge.

"Hey! Be careful around that, pal!" They were lucky.

Maya turned away from where she was examining one of the abandoned plates and gave Gumshoe a wide, only somewhat insincere smile. "Sorry for all the extra work, Gumshoe!"

His shoulders slumped and he let out a sharp sigh. "Oh, it's you. I was worried it was that security lady again."

Nick's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Again?"

"Again?" Maya echoed. "She seemed pretty set on staying at her post when I passed her."

"Yeah, well you weren't beatin' her off with a broom, were you?" He shifted from one foot to the other, casting his gaze across the entire Employee Lounge. "But that's beside the point, ain't it?"

"Yeah." Maya looked at the various plates then back at Gumshoe. "Don't they have lab guys for this kind of thing? How many hats are you even wearing?"

"As many as needed, pal." Gumshoe turned back towards the tables and began to count them, ticking down fingers. "To be entirely honest: we should send all this back to the lab to be tested but, coz of all the hullabaloo about whether or not the vic was gonna' commit a crime or not, Mister Edgeworth sent me here with a home kit."

"I'd bet the precinct was a mess."

Maya glanced at Nick, then back to Gumshoe. "Any luck?" Luck. Like she didn't already figure one of the plates would test positive.

Like she didn't need one of the plates to test positive.

"Nuthin' so far but I'm about done. Got two more left." Gumshoe pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket and unscrewed the cap, using the eyedropper in the cap to dribble fluid on the plate. "Let's see if this is the lucky plate." A few moments passed. Gumshoe's shoulders began to slump. Then a magenta stain began to flower on the plate where the liquid solution had touched. Nick and Gumshoe both whooped in delight. "There we go!"

"That's a positive?"

"Yeah." Gumshoe pulled out an instant camera from an inner pocket and snapped a quick photo of the plate, then one of the table it was on in relation to the dressing room and the exit. "This'll be in evidence tomorrow. Gotta' get the photos properly processed for use."

"Judging by how bright the solution changed, he was dosed dosed." Maya frowned up at Nick, silently asking him to clarify what he meant. "Powers is a big guy so it'd take a lot to knock him out, right? The brighter the solution turns, the more concentrated it is. Hammer—or whoever drugged him—wanted him unconscious, and for a long time at that. He's lucky he didn't overdose."

Maya didn't ask if 'he' meant Jack Hammer or Will Powers. She didn't want to know. "Did the fingerprinting turn up anything?"

"Hammer's. You were right." He didn't sound happy about it.

"Causing problems in the precinct?"

"A little bit," he admitted. "Half the force and folks workin' on this case think we should drop the charges on Powers. The other half wants to double down."

"I wonder what Edgeworth thinks." Maybe Nick didn't think she could hear him. Maybe he wanted her to ask in his stead.

Maya chose to believe it was the latter. "And Prosecutor Edgeworth?"

"Mister Edgeworth is..." For a moment Gumshoe's expression cycled rapidly, as if he was unsure of how to feel about the matter. Frankly, Maya didn't blame him, but her own biases aside, it must be frustrating to see your coworker and-or boss whom you respected get put through the wringer. Even if he deserved it. "This case was already really hard on him. Personal, like the one with Mister Redd White was, only different."

"Because he's a huge fan?" She tried to alleviate the tension with a joke. It had the opposite effect.

"No. It's more...the longer this goes on, the more pressure he's feelin' from his mentor and the higher-ups." Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, fiddling with something inside his pocket.

"Lana?"

"No! Miss Chief Lana isn't the problem! It's more..." Again, he trailed off. Again, he seemed unable to put his thoughts into words. "Point bein': he's doin' his best and it's startin' to wear on him."

"Well I hope it eases up once this is all over." When I win, she doesn't say, but the implication is there.

"Me too, pal." Gumshoe sighed again. "He just...he was doin' his best durin' questionin'. As much as that kid clammed up until his mom scolded him, Mister Edgeworth never once got snippy with him. Was real kind and soft. I've never seen him like that before."

Maya could feel Nick's smug grin from over her shoulder. "I'd pay money to see that."

Gumshoe was unamused. "He's not a monster, y'know?"

"I know." She didn't have to like him though. "But I'm entitled to my opinion, aren't I?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "I even get where you're coming from but—"

But?

Gumshoe sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. "Just be careful, okay?"

"You're around. It's not that hard to be careful when the place is swarming with cops, is it?" Behind her, Nick coughed, wet and loud. "It's not like I'm looking for trouble."

"Speakin' of lookin' for trouble: your friend is in the dressin' room." Gumshoe gestured towards it with one hand. "The, uh, mousy one. Miss Nichols?"

Oh? "Thanks for the heads-up Gumshoe! I'll go talk to her now." She started to make her way to the dressing room when Gumshoe grabbed her by the elbow, letting go when he felt her stiffen in fear. "Hm?"

"Are you alright?" His sincerity was blinding.

Maya pasted on a smile to hide her exhaustion. "Yeah. I'm doing alright."

"Even after...all that?" Cody in the courtroom. Cody crying. How visible her pain and discomfort had been.

"Yep!"

"You know— you know it's okay to not be okay, right?"

Maya's smile tightened. "Of course."

He didn't look like he believed her. "...if you say so."

Maya fled the room.

Penny was so busy re-making the cot that she didn't hear Maya enter. It wasn't until Maya cleared her throat, startling Penny so badly she un-tucked the sheet, that she even seemed to recognize she wasn't alone.

Maya held up a lunchbox with a handful of gionbō disasters in it. "Delivery."

"You're my savior." Penny snatched the lunchbox and cracked it open, shoving a lumpy wagashi in her mouth and humming in pure delight. "S'good."

"Glad they taste better than they look." Maya laughed at her as she shoved a second gionbō disaster in her mouth, then a third.

"She's cleaning up. Does Global think they're made?" Nick hovered over the piles of folded costumes and crew shirts, blatantly choosing to not talk about how Maya was doing.

She felt grateful that he was being tactful and irritated he felt she was so fragile as to need to tiptoe around. "So what do the bigwigs have you doing today?"

Penny swallowed hard and grimaced. "Mostly just tidying up anything that isn't a crime scene. It's all...well it's a bit dead in the water now."

"Huh?"

"I mean: it's over? They can't finish the show with the main villain dead, let alone a scandal of this proportion. So they're quietly packing everything up, editing the footage we have, and throwing together the script for a PSA or an apology or whatever."

"They're canceling the Steel Samurai?!"

"You expected them to keep going after this?" Nick sounded incredulous but Maya wasn't done.

"With the publicity from the trial, wouldn't it make more sense to capitalize on that?"

Penny snorted. "You'd think, but apparently word on the grapevine is that this was a long time coming. Global Studios was trying to cut away from the children's programming for a while now. This scandal means they can sever the Steel Samurai without any of the backlash they'd get if they tried something like this after the season finale."

"And what's the buzz on the forums? Surely some part of this must've leaked to the fans?" It was a little pathetic but— for Global Studios to cut a show that was as popular as the Steel Samurai, and just because it was a children's show? It felt like a betrayal.

Penny just leaned back and popped another gionbō in her mouth. "No such luck. Global's got a tight lock on info about this and most people are busy talking about the trial." She swallowed and continued, "Good job, by the way."

"Thanks, but—"

"It's more like...I don't know, maybe this is wishful thinking or whatever, but I think they're just...maybe it's better this way?"

"Better?!"

Penny shrugged. "Kids will find other heroes to look up to. The Steel Samurai had a long run and they'll probably milk stage plays for all the money they can. Items will become collector's editions, fanfiction will flourish, and theories will run rampant, but it's not like the show dying is the end of the world."

"Maybe not to you or I or any of the adults who are into it but—" The way Cody had looked at Will Powers. The Path to Glory in her pocket. The soft way Will Powers had talked about wanting to make children happy. Maya stared at Penny, aghast. "It might not be the end of the world but there are people out there who need the Steel Samurai!"

"Need is a strong word," Nick noted.

Maya ignored him as Penny spoke up in agreement. "I know that and you know that, but—"

"You're unofficially the online PR, aren't you? The person who does forums and the like?" Penny nodded. "So why not leak that info? If Global is thinking of cutting children's programming due to the trial and the scandal it's bringing then why not make a bigger scandal?"

Penny frowned at her. "What, leak confidential information about Global's inner workings to rile up the fanbase?"

"If Global is already planning on downsizing, considering how sparse the crew is now, it's not like they can afford to fire you." That was a stretch, even by Maya's courtroom standards. "If the fans raise enough of a stink, maybe Global will walk back the decision?"

"Maya—" Nick's warning fell on deaf ears. He sighed, resigned, and leaned back in the air to wait out their fervor.

"It can't hurt, can it?"

Penny chewed on a gionbō as she thought. Then, swallowing, she nodded. "Worst case scenario, they fire me."

"Worst case scenario, they sue her," Nick corrected.

As Maya was the only one who could hear him, she simply elected to ignore him. He didn't understand like Penny did. He didn't know why it mattered so much to keep the show alive. He didn't get what about the Steel Samurai was so appealing and important that they'd both fight tooth and nail to keep it running.

Satisfied, Maya looked around at the dressing room one more time. "Hey, Penny?" A thought had just occurred to her.

"Hm?"

"Do you know why they were paying Jack Hammer so little?"

That, at least, seemed to be something Nick himself was interested in. "Yeah. That is odd. Why was a senior actor in the Studio being stiffed and overworked so badly?"

Penny fiddled with her zipper, one of her bandaids catching in the teeth and peeling away more. "It's all rumors but...well, it probably has to do with five years ago."

"Five years ago?" Maya scrambled to attention and pulled out her notebook and pen, quickly jotting down what Penny was saying. "What happened?"

"I don't know all the details—Oldbag probably would since she was around then—but rumor has it that Mr. Jack killed someone. Or someone died on set and it was Mr. Jack's fault? Either or." She stopped fiddling with her zipper to peel away the loose bandaid on her finger and quickly reapplied it, covering up a nasty looking blister. The motion was practiced and fluid, the wrapper shoved in her vest pocket as she smoothed the edge down with her thumb. "You'd have to ask Oldbag but apparently Vazquez had a hand in keeping whatever happened under wraps."

"Wonder if that's why she's got so much power around here..."

"So Dee Vasquez helped cover up whatever that scandal with Jack Hammer was?" Maya quickly jotted down that thought as she asked it.

Penny shrugged. "All I'm going on are rumors online and those among the general staff. Nobody would really know but Mr. Jack, Oldbag, and Vasquez. Mr. Jack isn't around, Vasquez probably won't talk, so your best bet is—"

"Here's hoping the gionbō helped smooth things over." That was going to be an...unpleasant conversation, to say the least.

Penny grimaced apologetically. "Yeah, uh, sorry."

"No problem. Part and parcel of the job. I just, uh, hope you don't get in too much trouble with the whole operation fan poll or whatever."

"Operation fan poll?"

Maya blushed. "It's the best I could come up with under short notice! Title pending, I guess. Picky..." Nick cackled as he rolled about in the air. She didn't need both of them making fun of her.

Penny, at least, had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. "It's a good placeholder title."

"Mean to me." That got a laugh out of Penny and Nick both. She felt a little lighter. It felt easier to laugh when she wasn't faking it.

"I'll keep you updated, alright?" Penny shoved another gionbō in her mouth, waving her phone at Maya.

"And I'll let you know if anything goes horribly wrong or whatever, so long as it doesn't break confidentiality." Maya tucked her notebook back in her sash, pen in her breast pocket, and nodded at Penny. "See you."

"Bye. Don't work too hard, okay?"

"No promises."

"Fair enough." —— Oldbag was eating one of the gionbō when Maya and Nick managed to find her again. She was sitting in her little office building, daintily making sure she didn't smudge her lipstick as she snacked. There was an air of somberness about her that made the guard station feel like a funeral home. Maya couldn't blame her, however. She seemed to sincerely care about Jack Hammer and his murder seemed to genuinely effect her negatively.

Maya carefully approached her as if she was a dangerous animal, making sure to stand in her line of sight and moving slowly. "Hello?"

Oldbag's gaze flicked from the middle distance to lock on to Maya. Her lips pursed but she didn't speak aloud, just inclined her head as if she was giving her permission to speak.

"Sorry to bother you during your grieving period but this should be the last time." And she sincerely was sorry. The way the old security guard had asked for a way to go pay Jack Hammer respects wasn't fake. She was actually upset by his death and Maya didn't want to disrespect or devalue her sorrow and pain.

"Go ahead, girlie." She pulled another gionbō from the box and ate it, teeth bared, tearing through the gyūhi, leaving a splatter of powdered sugar dusted on her lips. "It's not like I can stop you anyway."

"She very well could, if she wanted." Nick's addition was soft, less for her and more for himself. He, too, almost seemed afraid that Oldbag could hear him and would go off on a tangent the second that she felt fit enough to. "But man..."

Yeah. "Did you get to pay your respects?" That was less out of a need for information and more out of respect for the old woman. "At Studio One, I mean."

"Sure did." Somehow a taciturn Oldbag was scarier than a blustery Oldbag. "Went during the trial too. Prayed that his killer would be found and jailed."

"She isn't insisting it's Powers," Nick noted. "That's something."

It was something. "I'm glad you had a chance to do that. It's good for you; getting a chance to grieve while it's fresh."

Oldbag nodded again, humming in agreement. "Cut to the chase."

Fair enough. "I had a couple questions regarding the day of the murder and also something that Penny said."

"That girl again?" She snorted, the sound a gun shot scattering birds in the woods. "She needs to learn to keep her mouth shut. She won't keep this job if she doesn't learn that sooner rather than later."

"Pot, kettle."

Maya fought back a smile. "She only mentioned because I was asking around and one thing led to another."

"My point stands," Oldbag sniffed. "You can't go blabbing to any Tom, Dick, or Harry asking about. Even if they are your friend or whatever." She ate another gionbō in heavy silence. Chewed. Swallowed. Spoke again. "What did she say?"

"She said that about five years ago someone died on set?"

Oldbag stiffened, eyes widening in surprise and horror. Then they narrowed. "Yeah? What of it?"

"Penny implied that Jack Hammer was the one who was at fault." More or less.

Oldbag didn't take kindly to that insinuation. "My Hammer would never!" Her sudden increase in volume—after so long with her being somber and quiet—startled both Maya and Nick. The former jumped, heart hammering in her ears; the latter spun about midair, his scarf forming a fluid spiral of blood-red. "I thought you of all people would understand that talking ill of the recently deceased is uncouth and probably will get you cursed! Or did you think you had a free pass because you're trying to prove that idiot Powers innocent? Honestly!" Thankfully she shoved another gionbō in her mouth, shutting herself up. As she angrily chewed on the wagashi, Maya tried her best to reign in her nerves.

"Well at least we know she's not that put-off."

Yay. Maya inhaled, held, then exhaled. "I'm not saying this out of any kind of malice."

"Proof!" Maya blinked at Oldbag. The woman reiterated her demand. "Show me proof, lawyer girlie! Isn't that your job? What proof do you have that my Hammer was even capable of murder!"

"Well..." Nick didn't even need to finish the thought. Maya already knew what would do the trick.

"The sleeping pills." When Oldbag stared at her, silent and judgemental, Maya elaborated. "There was a bottle of over the counter sleeping pills I found in the Employee Lounge. My case today was based on the belief that Will Powers was drugged and Jack Hammer stole the Steel Samurai costume to frame him for one thing or another."

"Mere supposition, isn't it?!"

"The police just finished fingerprinting the bottle and Jack Hammer was the last person to touch them."

"My Hammer just had problems sleeping!" Oldbag pushed back.

"They also finished testing the plates in the Employee Lounge," Maya countered, "and one of the plates tested positive for a large concentration of the pills. Jack Hammer drugged one of the plates. You can't deny that."

"I—" Oldbag's shoulders slumped. All the fight left her. Suddenly she seemed as though she was feeling the true weight of her age pressing down on her. "Hmph. Alright."

It was an admission of defeat, but not for Oldbag. She just seemed...exhausted. Like she had spent so much of the past few days holding on to a thread and it had finally snapped, leaving her slack and immobile. Maya felt bad for her.

"Alright..." Olbag repeated, softer than before. "Yeah."

"Oldbag-san—" A sharp glare from the old woman reminded Maya she had demanded the honorifics be done away with. "Oldbag—" she corrected.

"No need to pity me, girlie. I'm not so fragile as to fall apart like this." Oldbag cut her off. "I know Hammer wasn't a completely innocent man. I'm not a fool."

"I never said you were." Maya's comment earned her a dry glare. She fell quiet, sheepishly hunching beneath Oldbag's ire.

"Hammer was...hm..." She sighed and began again. "Five years ago— five years ago, a man died on set here. It was one of the action films. A muckraking tabloid photographer skulking about managed to catch it on camera and Global panicked. They couldn't afford for this to leak. It would ruin them."

"A scandal like that—an actor or someone else dying on set due to workplace safety issues or negligence—is a bad look, even if Global wasn't suffering financial issues back then."

"Penny said Dee Vasquez helped smooth things over?"

"Yeah, that's how it got sold to everyone else." Oldbag scoffed. "But the fact of the matter is that Vasquez has ties to organized crime. She had the poor photographer silenced, the negatives seized, and Global figured it was better to have her around than not."

Maya stopped writing down what Oldbag was saying and stared at her. Was she serious? "Organized crime?"

That got her a scoffing laugh from the security guard. "Mobsters. Mafioso. Yakuza. It all depends on what part of Los Tokyo her connections are from. Could be anyone. My money is on one of the local big names. You don't get that far up the ladder that fast without good connections."

"Holy..." Nick didn't even finish his thought, the word trailing off like the ends of his scarf.

"And Dee Vasquez just..."

"Threatened and strong-armed her way into getting her hands on every piece of evidence documenting that incident but one."

"One?" She couldn't mean—

Oldbag reached into her uniform's breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, offering it to Maya. Maya took it and unfolded it, revealing what it was that Oldbag had held on to for five whole years.

A black and white photograph of the supposed incident, heavily creased and worn from years of being folded. It was of the trailer in Studio Two, three people trapped in time, stuck in the horror of whatever had happened. Jack Hammer—younger than when he died, certainly less harrowed—in a polo shirt and holding a tennis racket, looking down in horror from the trailer stairs. Impaled on the cast iron fence was someone in dark colored, ninja-like body armor. Behind the deceased was a younger Dee Vasquez, gloved hands clasped over her mouth as she cried.

"Holy shit."

Maya could barely breathe. No wonder the Studio Two trailer felt like Studio One. Someone had died there.

"Hammer didn't mean to." Oldbag's quiet admission broke the silence, a skipping stone through a glass house. "Even back then, Global had been struggling. Nowadays it's better; as much as I hate to admit it, the Steel Samurai brought in a good amount of revenue, but it used to be worse. I wasn't there for the incident itself but I heard..."

"She was a fan of Hammer," Nick breathed, "so why wouldn't she want to eliminate any trace of this incident? But she kept it...?"

"Why did you keep this?" It wasn't meant to be judgemental. She genuinely just wanted to understand.

(Coffee mugs she bought for Mia used for her own purposes on a daily basis. An altar at home and an altar at the office, both set with care, color prints in dark wood frames set before offerings and apologies. Sheets that smelled like cigarette smoke and her sister's perfume. Pressing a finger to a bruise and knowing the pain means it was real, once upon a time.)

Oldbag maintained steady eye-contact with Maya, unbroken and judgement-free. 'You're spiritual...aren't you girlie?' She had asked. Maya had said yes but even then, she had been unaware of what Oldbag had been truly asking. Spiritual in practice, spiritual in penance, spiritual in existence.

"I don't want to talk about that." Fair enough.

"Do you know what happened? Who - who is this?" Maya brushed her fingers over the dead man. She couldn't tell—they were wearing a mask—but judging by their build they were probably a stunt actor. Or, no, Global didn't even use stunt actors now. Why would they have way back then? This was an actor; someone who was no longer with the studio or the living.

"Manuel Salcedo." It wasn't a name Maya recognized. Thankfully, Oldbag explained. "He was a suit actor for the villain parts in a majority of the Samurai films. Uncredited, of course, because Global likes to hold their bottom line."

"This was a Samurai film?"

Oldbag jerked her head in a sharp nod. "Never got any further after this happened. All the film was burned, all the staff working then were paid off, and most of them don't work for Global at all these days." Something wistful—or pained, the two emotions pressed against one another like the pages in a book—painted her expression. "They were filming an action scene. Not even the climax. Salcedo was fighting with Hammer when he fell off-balance and tipped over the handrail. It was bad luck..."

"The chance of him falling like that, on a fence spike at an angle that could kill him is...astronomically small."

"Do you think Dee Vasquez blamed Jack Hammer?" It wasn't something Maya meant to ask aloud and yet Oldbag didn't seem to hold it against her. In fact, it seemed as though she seemed amused that Maya's mind went there.

"I'll bet she did. I won't say I don't blame her—I do. You don't keep someone around treat someone like dirt for five years just to punish them for an awful accident but Vasquez..."

Nick sighed. "That's why he was paid almost nothing and overworked."

"She was blackmailing him."

"Got it in one." Oldbag exhaled heavily, her nose flaring. "You can have that, by the by."

"Huh?"

"The photo." She stared at Maya like she was speaking a foreign language. "Holding on to it now is— it's just painful. I should let go. You'll make better use of it than I will. It's the only copy left."

"I'll— I'll do my best." Maya folded the photo back into fourths and tucked it into her sash. "Thank you."

"I wonder if I could've gotten farther in life if I was half as ambitious as you." Oldbag plucked another gionbō from the box. "Too late for that."

"For what it's worth, I think you've done well for yourself." It might've been a bit of a platitude but she meant it. "I can't imagine holding the same position for as long as you have."

"I used to dream of being a star." A wry, thin smile pressed her lips into a crooked red line. "Too little too late now. Who would have me."

"There's no harm in trying."

She let out a sharp bark of laugher. "Never let go of that sunny spirit, girlie. Least you can do to make it up to me."

"Thank you." What else could she say? What else was there to say? "I...hope you're alright when all of this is over."

Oldbag took a bite of gionbō, gyūhi tearing between her teeth and leaving a smear of anzu across her canines, and waved her hand dismissively. "Worry about yourself more."

"I'll do my best." Maya turned back to the gate leading to the studio lots and started her trek to Studio Two. She had a crime scene to investigate.

Nick floated alongside her in relative silence for a moment but she could feel him holding back. They both were.

What Oldbag had admitted to, what she had just divulged was— this could ruin Global Studios, even if it saved their client.

"Dee Vasquez was blackmailing Jack Hammer." That was a fact, even if the only proof they had was the picture just given to them.

"So why is he dead?" Nick asked. "He was too valuable to let go. Famous, good at his job, and she, what, kills him?"

"We've called it an anti-motive before, but it really is, isn't it?" Maya pulled her notebook out and found where she'd scribbled down possible motives or reasons Jack Hammer had been killed. "If he was making Global money, there's no reason to - to—"

Nick saved her. He pulled the words from her mouth and gave them form so she didn't have to taste them on the way out. "You don't slaughter the golden goose if you want to keep the eggs it lays." His distaste was audible and she shared it. It connected them, a thin thread of confusion and revulsion.

"What was Jack Hammer doing? He'd spent years under Dee Vasquez's thumb, had years for that resentment to grow but..." But why now? Why try to frame Will Powers?

"Maybe because it had been years?"

"Everyone on-site that day knew the meeting was happening, didn't they?" Nick nodded so Maya continued. "He was heading to Studio Two, where the executives were. Did they know when the meeting ended? Or did it not matter?"

"You think he was trying to kill Vasquez?"

Maya met Nick's blank eyes and nodded. "Or he planned on hurting her. With the Samurai Spear broken, especially along the shaft, the chances of it being a good thrusting weapon is reduced. Bludgeoning perhaps? But that means..."

As always, he recognized her logic. "The Spear was used to obfuscate the actual cause of death. They plugged the hole."

"Wasn't there an incinerator there?"

"You think they burned the costume?"

"It would be the only reason Prosecutor Edgeworth and Gumshoe haven't found it yet." It was a point of contention for the men. They seemed genuinely frustrated that the missing costume hadn't reappeared yet. Maya understood, of course, but its absence said more than its presence ever would. "Burn the blood-soaked clothes, dress the body in his own suit, move it..."

Maya ran nose-first into someone. A startled squeak escaped her as she reeled and attempted to try and reorient herself so she could apologize. Before she could, however, she caught sight of Nick in the corner of her vision. His eyes were wide and panicked, mask pulled over his nose, pale and sweaty.

Something was horribly wrong if Nick was this unsettled.

Turning back to whoever she had run into, Maya realized exactly what the problem was.

A large man with a sprawling series of tattoos across his face sneered down at her, golden teeth glittering in the sunlight. "Ay, Lady Vasquez has been looking for you."

"H-has she?" Maya tried to keep her calm but—

'You don't get that far up the ladder that fast without good connections.' Oldbag had said. Maya was face-to-face with proof of that.

Danger, her brain screamed. Danger. This is dangerous. Run. Flee.

Her legs wouldn't listen. "And why hasn't Vasquez-san sent me a message personally?"

The man in front of her laughed. He threw his head back and howled in amusement. Then he whistled through his teeth, a sharp rising arrow of noise. "That's why we're here."

We. Maya watched as two other men stepped from the woods on either side of the path. While all of them were dressed differently—a far cry from movies' representation of organized crime—they shared similarities in the colors they wore and the sheer danger they radiated. She was pinned in on all sides.

"So you're my escort?"

The man shrugged at her. "Escort, messenger, bodyguard. Take your pick, ay?"

As if sensing that she was weighing her options and trying to find an exit from this trap, one of the other men simply lifted up his shirt to flash the grip of a pistol. All the fight left her in that moment.

Maya met Nick's eyes. 'Promise me you're going to be smarter about this one.' He had begged her when she started this case. 'I can't help if the problem is physical.'

And here she was...

Maya swallowed and tilted her chin up so she was looking at the man in front of her. "Lead the way."

"Smart girl." As a unit, the three men pinned Maya between them and started walking towards Studio Two.

So Dee Vasquez was here. They had assumed, of course, but the fact that she sent her 'connections' to come 'escort' her meant...

Did Dee Vasquez think Maya knew something dangerous? Was that why she was going to silence her? Make her disappear?

(Who would tend the altar? Who would offer Mia's spirit food and incense? Who would keep the office clean? Who would keep Nick company?)

She couldn't think like that because...

Well...it'd be hard to escape that mire the longer she stood in the mud.

Dee Vasquez stood on the porch of the Studio Two trailer, the smoke from her cigarette curling fingers toward the sky. The orange-red ember cast harsh shadows on her face, the warm color washing out her neutral tones. Her dark eyes watched as Maya was marched up the stairs.

"Found the little girl walking the main path." The man up front said to Dee Vasquez.

She just inclined her head. "Bring her in." Taciturn as ever.

Nick, silent as the grave, followed them into the trailer.

Once inside, Maya stood stock-still, waiting for whatever demands Dee Vasquez might have of her. The memory of the gun one of the men had kept her locked in place out of sheer terror. She'd never seen or heard a gun fired outside of TV or movies but she didn't need to.

It was a threat, and an effective one at that.

"Surely there are better ways to get my attention, Vasquez-san."

"Maya." Nick's hissed warning was followed by a raspy coughing fit. Maya tuned him out to the best of her ability.

She wasn't trying to be rude—the opposite, in fact—but she was trying to waste time in the hopes that somebody would realize she wasn't out and about.

"Did you take her phone?" Dee Vasquez didn't even deign to answer Maya. Instead she turned to one of the men, who shrugged at her. "Did she send out an SOS or anything of the like?"

The man said something in a language Maya didn't speak—Spanish, if she had to make a guess—and Dee Vasquez clucked her tongue in irritation. She snapped out something in the same language and the man who was at the head of their group walked towards Maya, who flinched.

"Hold still, little girl." She did as she was told and the man pulled her phone out of her pocket—alongside her notebook—and handed them to Dee Vasquez to peruse.

Maya stood in terrified silence as Dee Vasquez flipped through her notes; the heady smell of her cigarette choking any protests Maya might have had before they reached her tongue. Nick coughed into his elbow, sweating so much his mask was translucent, blood splatter visible from the inside.

When Dee Vasquez spoke again, it was finally addressed to Maya. "You have the photo."

Maya refused to answer her.

Dee Vasquez sighed a ribbon of smoke and disappointment. "Do not be stubborn. I have read your notes. I have seen you in court. You have figured something out, something dangerous. Allow me to correct that."

"Why?"

Dee Vasquez raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You were blackmailing him. Jack Hammer, I mean. Why? It was an accident."

The laugh Dee Vasquez let out was unkind. It was smoky—as was most of her—and sharp, like a saw blade dragging back and forth across the back of Maya's neck. Ha ha ha. Perfect, practiced, and painful. "Is that what you think?" The mirth in her voice was violence. She wasn't actually all that kind, all her already sparse geniality a well-kept mask for anyone that wasn't on her payroll.

Maya no longer warranted such a petty cover-up.

Some of the spring-tight wound energy Maya was feeling loosened in her confusion. "H-huh?"

"That it was an accident." She snapped the word like a whip. Maya flinched. "That Hammer did not mean to hurt Manuel, let alone kill him."

"W-well, I mean—" Even Oldbag had expressed doubt that the incident was wholly accidental, and she was stubborn enough to make the Founder cry. "Surely he couldn't have—"

"Tell me, little lawyer," Dee Vasquez cut Maya off, taking a long drag before she continued speaking, "would a wholly innocent man allow me to squeeze him dry for five whole years?" Her smile was bared fangs, a flash of sharp white between parted maroon lips. "Think about it."

So she did.

Jack Hammer was the victim here, but he planned to do something and frame Will Powers for it. By that logic, it wasn't too hard to extrapolate that he had done awful things like this in the past.

Manuel Salcedo fell on a garden fence and choked to death on his own blood, a perforated lung ending his life before his time.

Jack Hammer pushed him.

"Still—"

"The photograph." Dee Vasquez didn't let her speak. "I know you have it."

"What makes you think—?"

"Do not play me for a fool, little lawyer." Maya flinched as Dee Vasquez cut her off with razor sharp sounds. "I read your notes but even if I had not...well, the old woman only kept her position because I could not get it off of her."

Maya could feel the photo pressed against her stomach, glad she stored things in her sash as much as she did her pockets. It burned bright, a secret she needed to keep safe. "You wanted it that badly?"

"Why would I not?" The question seemed almost nonsensical to her. "I had already taken and destroyed the negatives. This was the last remaining memory of that wretched day."

Something about the way she said that felt...personal. "You knew Manuel Salcedo?"

Whatever vulnerability Maya had caught a glimpse of was shuttered off in an instant. Cold, calm, collected, Dee Vasquez exhaled threads of scented smoke from between bared fangs. "If I did, it hardly matters to your case, does it?"

"On the contrary; as you saw, I have reasonable proof that Jack Hammer's death is directly tied to that incident." Maybe it was hubris, maybe it was frustration, but Maya's fear curdled and turned to bravado that sung through her veins. "Am I not entitled to questioning you? Your alibi is now under review due to Jack Hammer likely being killed in this lot."

"You sure are a brave one." Maya stared as Dee Vasquez stepped closer and closer to her, the clicking of her heels a countdown to...something bad. "Are you unaware of the position you are in?"

She swallowed. "No. I'm - I'm well aware."

"Surely that old woman spun a sad story for you. Poor Hammer, abused and exploited by the big bad Vasquez, and her the sole owner of a photo proving that her precious star is just as corrupt as his blackmailer." Dee Vasquez waved her hand gently about, painting the air in ember-bright sparks and silken smoke as she spoke. "But did she tell you that she chased that photographer down and physically beat the photograph out of them? That, had she done her job that day, there would be no such evidence to begin with?"

Maya remained silent. Dee Vasquez's smile sharpened mirthlessly.

"Of course she did not. Why would she? She is no different than myself in that respect: we are both private people. But you have violated my privacy and I aim to fix that mistake." She held out a gloved hand. "The photograph. I will not ask again."

The men shifted, ever-so-slightly, and Nick bristled. His edges wavered, coughs exploding out of his mouth, mask stained crimson with long-spilled blood. His distress fed back into Maya, a recursive loop of panic, and she fought every part of her that demanded she go down with her opponent's throat caught in her teeth.

She shouldn't go down at all.

She just...had to...buy time.

"What are you going to do with it?" She already knew the answer.

"Do you need to ask?" Even Dee Vasquez was aware of how blatant a stall that was. "Do not play this game with me. I do not have the patience. I am a very busy woman and my time is not cheap."

"Humor me?"

"I will not." She jerked her head at one of the men—the one who seemed to only speak Spanish—and said something to him in Spanish. Or, no, not said, commanded. She commanded him, the intent crossing the language barrier, tightening the choke collar around Maya's own neck.

The man stepped forward and began to search her again. Pocket after pocket turned out, the man stripped her of her jacket. Maya's face burned even as the blood left her body in sheer terror. Indignation and fear mixed like oil and water, a single spark away from a violent blaze. Then the man began to prod at her pants pockets, rough fingers grasping at her rolls of flesh, unkind and uncaring.

"Do you really think you'll get away with this?" There, the spark, the sputtering countertop fire, splattering bright liquid fire across the room. "Do you really think the police will—"

"Bold, that you would assume I am afraid of the police." Dee Vasquez replied from where she stood. Statuesque, uncaring, she viewed Maya's shame through half-lidded eyes lined with smokey eyeshadow.

"Sure, you might not be, but they will catch you." The man's fingers pried between her foot and her shoes, checking for a piece of paper hidden flat in the shadow of herself.

"With what evidence?"

Maya's jaw snapped shut so hard her teeth rattled. The man searching her moved up from her shoes towards her legs. His fingers lingered, less predatory and more practiced, in places she could have hidden things. Eventually he would likely remove her sash and then—

"There are no cameras here. The photograph showing you passing through the gate has no proof of my men wandering the woods. All the police would know is that a young woman wandered off the beaten path and disappeared." She idly looked down her nose at Maya as she spoke, as if she wasn't even worth considering. "You are not the first person to disappear at Global Studios and you would not be the last."

"Maya—!" Nick's strangled coughing gave way to him crying out, her name a warning as much as a plea.

His shout startled her enough that she jostled the man patting her down. Her sash came loose and the picture fell out, fluttering slowly down. The world narrowed to a pinprick, time oozing through the bottleneck, and Maya made a split-second decision.

She jumped forward, snatched the photo off of the ground and clutched it to her chest as she tried to make a break for it.

One of the men blocked her way. Another grabbed her by the hair. The third pulled his gun out.

Maya shrieked in pain.

(In the space between life and death, Nick's agonized screaming echoed with violent coughing and retching. Only Maya could hear his past overtake his present. Only Maya could see the edges of his body rip and tear, spinning out into ethereal strands of Twilight, smoke tethering him between the two realms like a poorly strung puppet.)

"Are you stupid?" Dee Vasquez's lip curled. She didn't raise her voice—she didn't need to, after all—but her words papered over the sounds of Maya struggling against her 'connections'. "What could you have accomplished, running like that?"

"Let me go!" Fear was a jackrabbit kicking feet against her heart and throat, pulse a waterfall beneath her skin.

"I do not take joy in this."

"Let me go!"

"This is for the good of Global Studios, after all."

"Let me go!"

Like a gunshot, the door flew open. Standing in the blinding light, backlit like an avenging angel, Gumshoe leveled his own firearm at the man with the gun. "Hands where I can see them!"

The man with the gun whipped the muzzle towards Gumshoe and fired once. The noise left Maya reeling but so was the man who had been holding her. His grip on her hair loosened and she wrenched herself free, scrambling on the ground on all fours as she fled for the door. Gumshoe's inaudible demands faded into indecipherable noise as she threw herself over the stairs and ran into the woods, passing several other policemen as they rushed to their coworker's aid, guns at the ready.

It wasn't until she could see the security office—sans Oldbag, who had probably gone to get more cops when the gunfire started—that she stopped running and tried to just breathe.

In. Hold. Out.

(The gun was leveled at her. The man had a fistful of her hair. Dee Vasquez watched on, unbothered or perhaps even bored.)

In. Hold. Out.

(Nick writhed and was unmade by his emotions. His coughs splattered blood inside his mask but he called her name. Her name. Maya. Maya. Maya.)

In. Hold. Out.

"Maya?"

(The photograph burned her skin as she tried to curl up around it. What had she been thinking? What was her plan? She could have died! Nobody would find her; nobody would care. Nobody would—)

"Maya!" She whipped to face whoever was calling her name and found Nick inches away from her, his spectral hands cupped around her face as if he was holding her head. "Maya. Are you okay?"

Was she okay? Was she—?

Her hands were shaking. She didn't have her jacket. Her cheeks still flushed from the indignation of being patted down. Her stomach roiled with nausea and panic. She could hear her pulse. She might've twisted her ankle because it hurt. Her hands were shaking.

Maya couldn't find it in herself to speak so she shook her head. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She stifled the sobs, the wrenching shudders still shaking every inch of her.

The cold October air bit into the salt-scrubbed raw patches of her face. She scraped her palms on the wood of the trailer stairs.

She was not okay.

Nick settled to the ground and pressed his cold form against hers. Even if he couldn't touch her, he wanted to comfort her. Hold her. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

(The warm smell of coffee and cigarettes and incense. A curtain of mahogany hair obscured her vision. The sound of her sister's voice rumbling through both of their bodies as they lay pressed together on the futon.)

She missed her sister.

"Mia—" The word came out like a whine, the sound of a kicked animal or a baby. She felt small and alone. She wanted comfort.

Nick, incorporeal as he might be, pressed closer to her. "Shh. It's okay. I know."

He did, but it wasn't the same.

Maya slumped down against the outside of the security booth and curled up, head on her knees. Nick settled alongside her, offering the only comfort he could—his presence—as she wept.

She missed her big sister so much.

"Hey, Maya?" She wasn't sure how much time had passed but she felt sticky and gross, worn out from crying and brittle around the edges, when she heard Gumshoe's soft, concerned voice call for her. She lifted her head from her knees and tilted her chin up so she could see him better.

Gumshoe wasn't hurt—thank the Founder, because she would never forgive herself if he had gotten hurt on her behalf—but he looked worried. Was he worried for her? Or was he worried because of what had happened? Surely a shootout with a criminal organization would complicate the case, especially for the police.

"...sorry..."

"For what?!" Noticing how she flinched, he lowered his voice. "You got nuthin' to apologize for, pal. That was bad all around."

"I made things harder..."

"Maya." Gumshoe and Nick called her name in unison, both equally stern. Gumshoe continued, "Complicatin' the case isn't your fault. If Miss Vasquez was runnin' with the Rivales, then this was always gonna' be an issue. You gettin' caught like that, patted down and humiliated, that ain't on you. That's not your fault."

"But—"

"This just means she can't dodge the subpoena. We got her in custody for half a dozen things now. Prosecutor Edgeworth will see she's taken to court for Power's case but she's gonna' also get indicted on other stuff too." Gumshoe spoke slow, low, comforting. He was being careful and it was all for her. "You weren't hurt and that's the important part for me."

Maya scrubbed at her face. "Sorry I got caught like that."

"Maya." Now he sounded frustrated. "You shouldn't've gone pokin' about like you did but—"

You couldn't have known she had criminal ties? You were unaware that she was willing to kill to keep her secrets? But she was well aware of that and yet she still—

He handed her her jacket back, notebook and phone wrapped in the lavender cloth. "It's not like any of us could've predicted that, pal."

A laugh escaped her at last, mildly hysterical even if it left her lightheaded with relief. "I guess..."

"Maya." The way Nick said her name—mochi-thick with pity, slathered in honey regret—stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"Just— you gotta' be careful."

"I don't plan on making a habit of being held at gunpoint." Her bite was forced, dull by comparison to Dee Vasquez's violent edge, but it did the trick. Gumshoe's posture loosened a bit, shoulders relaxing.

"Nobody ever does."

"Well I'll take extra precaution next time." A lie, but a kind one. She was full of those lately. "Hey Gumshoe?"

"Yeah?"

How to phrase this? There was no reason to keep things from the police now. Not after they'd rescued her. Prosecutor Edgeworth be damned, she wanted this woman in jail. "I think Dee Vasquez might've been the one."

All his false cheer—facepaint put on for her benefit, a bright splatter of color in a monochrome world—washed away in an instant, leaving behind a somber police detective. "Yeah. So did Mister Edgeworth. It's why he wanted us to keep an eye on the place. He was workin' on the paperwork to get her on the stand but now—"

"She can't refuse."

"Yeah."

"Good." Maya was spiteful. This was something she didn't take much care in hiding. She didn't give a shit if the object of her ire knew or not. In fact, she wanted them to know. Getting Dee Vasquez on the stand would be tasty but getting her convicted?

"Will you - are you gonna' be okay tomorrow?" Gumshoe picked at his bandage.

Maya heaved herself to her feet with a groan and pulled her jacket back on, finding comfort in the weight of her notebook and phone. "Yeah. I'll be fine. I just...need to sleep this off."

"We're gonna' need your statement about the Rivales we picked up and Vasquez though, pal." He looked apologetic.

"Now?" Gumshoe nodded and Maya flashed him a comforting smile. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

"You got it."

The phantom sensation of the man snatching her hair, of fingers exploring her body to find anything she hid, sent shivers up her spine but she would prevail. She'd be fine.

She would be fine.

(Walking behind her the whole time, Nick stifled coughs into his elbow, the blood long-gone from his face mask.)

#the sheepy writes fic #hallowed be thy unknown #long post #ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #trials and tribulations spoilers #gyakuten saiban #aa3 spoilers #only two months? a miracle!#anyway sorry cody i transed your dad (accidentally)#it was for narrative pain (for maya)#but like it wasnt intentional lmao #anyway sorry for the delay per usual but im almost done with samurai yippee #one more day of trial and then its time for vasquez to get hers #and then turnabout goodbye which will be daddy/mommy issues ft maya having a shouting match with edgeworth outside of court #look i got PLAMS #yknow?#i got big plambs

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tonycries · 1 year ago

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.

Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.

Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)

A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.

Art by @_3aem on X.

“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”

Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.

Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon

The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.

But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual.

Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors.

What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar.

Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you.

You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here.

“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points.

Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.

You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.”

A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home.

Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles.

In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.

Finally, you look up.

Your eyes meet blue.

Blue, blue summer skies.

To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced.

And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.

“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”

The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long.

Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.

You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.

“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long. Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.

“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs.

Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.

“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”

Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?”

Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.

The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.

“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.

“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”

“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.

“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.

“So you travel?”

“This is a nice town.”

Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.

“You can-”

“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you.

“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town.

As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road.

“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle.

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears.

Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind.

But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.

Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face.

Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.

If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.

Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.

Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch.

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin.

Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa.

“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?”

Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”

Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.

As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.

“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.

It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.

That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.

---

Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was.

“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out.

It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…

“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!”

The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.

Satoru was on your bed.

Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”

And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door.

Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?

His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.

You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.”

Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”

Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.

What the fuck?

“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar.

“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.” The audacity.

Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.

In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best.

Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”

The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.

Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these.

Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.

Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.

“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”

Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.

“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles.

Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.

The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”

A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”

You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true.

The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.

Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.”

Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”

The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence.

“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”

“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge.

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles.

If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.

Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.

Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.

It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it?

He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half.

You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.

Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.

“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.

“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”

The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”

Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight.

---

To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him.

“Satoru…Satoru!”

An angel that sounded like…you?

“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”

His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out.

You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”

Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.

Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that.

Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”

“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”

Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon.

Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.

Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you?

Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.

“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…

You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”

Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.

“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer.

Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor.

You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.

The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days.

“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.

“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”

You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.

Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance.

Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”

Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher.

You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon.

Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!

Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?

With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.

It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you.

He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe.

Shit, he was really getting in too deep.

Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue.

Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”

You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit.

Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.

“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle.

“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.

Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.”

You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.

SLAM!

You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.

It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs.

“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily.

“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down.

Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”

Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up.

A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.

“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.

You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his.

Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.

He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.

You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.

Imagine. Ha!

Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side.

Wait. Shit.

---

If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it.

Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic.

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

You could only imagine the worst.

Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him.

It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.

Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.

---

“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker.

You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”).

Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.

A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.

Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.

“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune.

Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.

Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.

Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps!

He was so proud of his girl.

Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him.

He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?

It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.

Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor.

Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the-

Satoru.

Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.”

A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”

“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes.

“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely.

Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love.

Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing.

The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.

“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way.

“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him.

The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful.

Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”

Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.

“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”

He can never win against you.

Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?”

“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”

“I only want you.”

“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts.

“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.

“No- Satoru-”

“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.

“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out.

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks.

“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”

“Yes.”

Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”

“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.

In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes.

“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum.

Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake.

The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself.

Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”

“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”

Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.

And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane.

“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning.

You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips.

Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers.

He was so big.

Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come.

Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.

“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”

Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.”

You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.

Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.

Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…

Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right.

Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.

“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.

“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.

The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah- M’ gonna cum-”

Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth.

He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.

As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more.

You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.

“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss.

“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans.

Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water.

In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.

Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base.

It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.

Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”

“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.

Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.

As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in.

Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.

Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush.

Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.

---

Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster.

Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side.

You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.

Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.

The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.

Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.

Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.

He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.

His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.

You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?”

Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?”

Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.

“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.

You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.

After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.

Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him.

Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you.

“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully.

Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him.

Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix.

Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much.

Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will.

You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow.

But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full.

“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass.

It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.

As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-”

He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”

Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock.

“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears.

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess.

A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.

You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please.

Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket.

As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.

“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room.

“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air.

That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.

You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world.

“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.

Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes.

Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.

You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed.

Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress.

What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”

Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.

---

Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…

Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.

Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving.

It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head.

It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.”

Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming.

Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.

“Let me come with you.”

“Let me stay with you.”

The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise.

“You- stay?”

“Wait- huh?”

Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?

“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.

You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”

“I thought you loved this place?”

“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”

Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much.

The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”

“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”

Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times.

Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?

“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.

“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”

“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth.

“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.

He knows.

“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.

Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.

It was terrifying.

---

Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.

You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever.

Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.

As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.

This was happening. You were going to finally leave.

Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years.

Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you.

“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.

Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please.

Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”

“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.”

This was really happening.

Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins.

You were going to get out.

You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline.

You were finally going to be free.

“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.

Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.

A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead.

He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.

Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.

“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out.

Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road.

BANG!

Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.

In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.

With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel.

The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible.

A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you.

The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.

Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring.

Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here.

A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion.

It hits metal.

Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.

“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two.

“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.”

Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head.

“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.

“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger.

“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.”

You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.

“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger.

Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.

“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened.

The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.

The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.

His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes.

You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.

All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.

“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones.

“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”

You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.

“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears.

“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you.

Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?”

It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now.

You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you.

In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you.

Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech.

Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”

Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.

“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.

Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.”

With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege.

“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.

“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.

“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.

“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”

The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory.

---

“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”

“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”

Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill.

In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint?

Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo.

Yet, yours takes center stage.

A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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