#as long as everythings civil/respectful which your reply definitely was

[tobyisave]

Omg hey! Thanks for taking the time to engage/share your thoughts even though you don't fully agree, I really appreciate it. And I don’t really disagree with you here, I just want to reply with my thoughts since you raised some interesting points!

Learned behaviors vs experiential gap: Absolutely the empathy/emotions thing is my weak link here, I'd call it a shameless projection that isn't necessarily supported by but consistent with canon lol. The only part I'd be reluctant to concede is the low empathy thing, but ultimately, an alternative interpretation where he's just really damn good at repressing is viable as well!

The learned behavior interpretation as you put it definitely makes sense, and I get the impression that it's more popular too. Kokichi's a really confusing guy and I think the interpretations we find most intuitive are probably going be the ones that relate his thought process to experiences we're familiar with, because that helps us grasp some semblance of humanity within him. All this to say I don't think there's anything that makes my explanation any better than yours; like you said, the truth is ambiguous, and I think it's best to gather as many different plausible interpretations as possible even if they don't lead to an "answer," because it lets us appreciate his writing and our relationship to our own interpretations. So I really appreciate you taking the time to put your version in words!

Gonta: On a similar note, I've basically lost hope that we'll ever know for certain what was going on in Kokichi's head here — and in spite of my giant footnote, I don't actually have a well-formed opinion myself — but I really like your point that his words gave Gonta peace of mind. Ironically I think I overlooked that angle because I didn't see a pragmatic reason to do anything solely for Gonta's benefit, since at this point Gonta's fate is sealed and his emotional state has no bearing on the future (aside from its effect on others, which has pretty much already maxed out with 'pity'). But consideration for the truth Gonta sees in his final moments makes total sense from the perspective of a Kokichi who's more emotionally 'typical,' and your interpretation is compelling; it gives more weight to the specific words he says, rather than just anything plausible to mislead people on why he's crying... I'll definitely have to think that over after this.

Paranoia: Another great point that I completely failed to address. I agree he's a little paranoid, or at least a reasonable amount of paranoid given the game they're in. Subbing that in as the cause of emotional disconnection in my analysis is really interesting... At the very least, I agree that paranoia would definitely add to the impression that these are all sham conversations. Though to confidently form an opinion on this I'd have to go back and look at the lies he tells in the killing game versus everyday life with that lens. My current impression is that his lying is too deeply ingrained to have developed situationally, so if I took his social detachment as a result of paranoia then I'd have to conclude that Kokichi is constantly paranoid. Which is not my opinion, but I'm sure it could be argued. In that case, in an everyday environment, the 'low empathy/emotion' version of Kokichi mostly neglects to tell people about himself because he doesn't care, while the 'learned behavior' + paranoia version actively avoids people knowing anything about him. Neither is an explanation of his lying per se, but the former would facilitate his compulsive lying, while the latter might not facilitate lying but does create a stronger motivation to lie.

Here and in other cases, I think a lot of the difference between these two headcanons just comes down to how good you think Kokichi is at acting and ignoring his emotions. 'Low empathy' Kokichi doesn't actually fight his instincts much, at least until shit really hits the fan, and that’s part of why that explanation appeals to me. Meanwhile 'learned behavior' Kokichi is frequently suppressing his instincts, successfully enough that I almost have trouble imagining someone being able to act that well (grain of salt, that’s *definitely* a blind spot for me - and more importantly, he is an Ultimate so I can’t put any kind of talent past him). My own reservations aside, the interpretation of Kokichi as someone naturally social who constantly has to fight his instincts definitely has its own merit; it’s emotionally compelling (in a pretty unique way that’s very different from mine) and probably more accessible as well.

Well, hope you didn't mind me writing an essay response to your response to my essay here lmao. I'm definitely starting to appreciate how challenging it is to figure this guy out; it's almost the opposite of the SDR2 problem, where Komaeda tells you his mindset from the get-go but the game never gives you a moment to recontextualize his actions after his death. V3 points at Kokichi and goes look, a mystery! we must recontextualize his actions! and then proceeds to give us basically nothing to go off of. All I can really aim to do is propose something with consistent internal logic, and I'm very glad if you think I managed to do that.

Again thanks for the rb, it's a treat to get such a long comment on my analysis!!

Character analysis: Why does Kokichi lie?

I think lying is more than just a means to an end for Kokichi, so this is my personal understanding of Kokichi's habitual lying, centered on the headcanon that he experiences his own emotions very weakly.

In a vain attempt to make this post more streamlined, I've isolated most textual examples into footnotes at the bottom; probably only read them if you don’t buy what I’m saying in the sentence prior. Lastly, if you disagree with something I say here and choose to make it known: probably read the footnotes first, and regardless please just be nice about it :')

"If I wanna become closer to Shuichi, I probably shouldn't lie so much... But that's my shtick... or more like, my way of life..." (Kokichi's inner thoughts from Salmon Team)

Small lies vs Big lies

To start this off, I need to clarify that there's (at least) two very different kinds of Kokichi lies. First are the “big” lies, like being the mastermind or lies about the nature of DICE. Big lies are consistent, told with a “straight face,” and well thought-out, because they usually serve some kind of strategic purpose [e.g. footnote 1]. But those aren't the kind of lies I'm aiming to explain here, because they're already well discussed and follow a pretty understandable logic.

I'm focusing on what I call "small" or compulsive lies: trivial claims & performed emotions that are usually not believed for long, either because they’re too outlandish or because he or someone else disproves them. For example, sobbing that he hates coffee and then asking for a cup of coffee; or telling the seance participants he's "actually super duper strong," despite knowing full well they're about to watch him struggle to carry the iron cage [more ex. in note 2]. Most of Kokichi's lies fall into this category imo, especially in low-stakes environments like Salmon Team and UTDP. Unlike big lies, "small" lies are somewhat unique to Kokichi, he tells/performs them constantly regardless of context, and they don’t serve a very clear purpose.

Masking

I think Kokichi got very good at performing emotions from a young age in order to mask the fact that he doesn't experience empathy or other emotions very strongly. And maybe that sounds like a very specific headcanon, but just stick with me here... [and/or see note 3 for one line of evidence]. Failing to emote convincingly would’ve not only made it difficult to exist in everyday society, but it probably would’ve put an even bigger target on his back as a criminal, too… So yeah, he learned.

But as it turns out, spending an (admittedly very short) lifetime pretending to have emotions you don’t actually have is a fantastic way to:

Start feeling detached from the people around you,

Start seeing everyone else as suckers for buying it, and

Very quickly lose any moral qualms about lying — after all, people would attack him from every direction if he was honest about his feelings towards them (or lack thereof), so how is it fair that they want to punish him for lying, too? There’s just no winning!

My interpretation boils down to this: Kokichi lies compulsively because he is deeply bored, and the kick he gets out of deceiving people is one of the only things he finds consistently rewarding about talking to them. Most social interactions already feel like lies to him because he is constantly forced to mask, so he might as well tell fun lies about being a supervillain instead of boring, easy lies about wanting to be friends with everyone.

(Continued under the cut)

Not all lies are strategic

I think it's easy to assume at first that the only reason to lie is for some sort of material influence: changing others' behavior or hiding undesirable truths, either for your own selfish gain or the greater good. Definitely, there is a purpose like that for most of Kokichi's "big" lies, and even some of his "small" ones (e.g. the kind of short-lived lies both he and Shuichi tell in order to advance the Class Trials). But even in retrospect, not every lie he tells can be explained with an external motivation like that, selfish OR unselfish.

I think telling "small" lies is more of a habit for Kokichi than a strategic choice, something he can't quit even when it becomes an actively bad strategy (hence "compulsive"). But if you’re already with me on this, feel free to just skip to the next section :P

A. Small lies aren't meant to be believed.

I don't think Kokichi tells lies in order to actually mislead people most of the time — because if he wanted people to believe his small lies, then he wouldn't be constantly retracting them. Many (or even most) of his small lies are soon followed up with “It’s a lie!”, either literally or by demonstrating/implying that it’s untrue [e.g. note 2 again]. [For some possible exceptions to this rule, see note 4].

Fig 1: Kokichi struggling not to give himself away after Monotarou believes his outlandish lie (V3 manga anthology). While I think this instance is a bit exaggerated, it nicely draws attention to the fact that he enjoys revealing his own lies.

By Kokichi's own doing, there is often a net 0 change in what people believe by the time they reach the end of a conversation with him. E.g. Kaede doesn't walk away from their FTE thinking Kokichi is her long-lost companion, Shuichi doesn't walk away from Salmon Team thinking Kokichi is obsessed with dumpster diving, etc. This suggests that Kokichi's not trying to change the perceived truth, he's just interested in the momentary act of tricking people.

B. Kokichi doesn’t tell small lies to alter his social standing, for better OR for worse.

I think the first half of this is self evident — I mean, if he was trying to gain status, he's doing a terrible job! He is aware of what behavior is required to make people like you and listen to you, and he is patently not doing that. 

You might then argue that he’s doing the opposite: intentionally bombing his reputation to build up to Ch.5 so that people would readily believe he’s the mastermind. While I do think his annoying lies ended up helping on that front, I don’t think his mastermind plan is the cause of this behavior, because...

Firstly, we still see him lie constantly in contexts where there's no clear advantage to being hated (UTDP, Salmon Team).

Secondly: Crying wolf is one of many great strategies to make people hate you... but it is a uniquely terrible strategy to make people believe you. If you were really going to create an evil mastermind persona out of thin air, "pretending to be a lying attention-seeker" is just not the most logical way to go about it; that would only make it harder for you to convince people that you're actually being serious when you do the big reveal that you're the mastermind [for a note on Junko, see 5]. That's why I don't think the compulsive liar thing is an act; instead the evil persona we see in game is just the result of leaning into traits people already disliked about him. The reason he tells so many meaningless small lies during the killing game is just that he already was, and is, a compulsive liar.

Again, there are some "big" lies, lies he doesn't go back on, that he tells in order to tank his reputation (e.g. "The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it"). But those big lies aren't enhanced at all by the fact that he walks around telling people the sky is green, you know? That might make people hate him, but it's not the wisest way to do so while still maintaining control over people.

Finally, regarding the argument that he tanks his credibility in order to mask his own emotions, see note [6].

So, with all that said... Why even tell these lies, if they don't give him more control over the situation, his classmates, or the truth?

Boredom

I believe Kokichi’s small lies are primarily driven by boredom. Yes, his complaints of boredom are probably meant to tie him to Junko (narratively) and justify enjoying the killing game. But I do think he’s also genuinely, chronically bored. Just because he doesn’t have vivid emotions doesn’t mean his brain isn’t expecting him to have vivid emotions, if that makes sense, so there’s just a constant lack of stimulus that leaves him restless.

On that note, I think it's difficult for him to maintain interest in everyday conversations. There's not usually a lot at stake for him, because he doesn't feel much about the people around him, and isn't interested in pretending that he does just so they can feel "connected" to a version of him that doesn't actually exist [but see 7].

It doesn't matter to him which path he takes when navigating everyday social interactions, so if he has to get through those interactions anyway, he's going to take the road less traveled. Pointing fingers, confessing to murder, and spontaneously bursting into tears… it’s not usually to accomplish anything in particular. It's more like doing backflips in an empty prison cell: equally as useless as rotting on the floor, but marginally more entertaining.

Fig 2: Kokichi consciously using lies to entertain himself. His dissatisfaction with the lie appears to be unrelated to whether or not it was believed; I suspect this is because the claim was so mundane that convincing Shuichi of it wouldn't have been very impressive in the first place.

But what's actually fun about lying?

I think this constant need for entertainment is what motivates a lot of Kokichi's social behaviors, not just lying. But he clearly has a special relationship with lies in particular. I think this is partially because of his perception of himself as "fake" (in the literal sense), but more importantly because lies are a versatile, challenging, and (relatively) harmless way to get reactions out of people.

Lying poses creative and intellectual challenges: Introducing lies basically doubles the amount of social calculations required to participate in conversation [elaboration in note 8].

Lying creates artificial stakes by reimagining ordinary conversations as competitions. By playing a game of "how many times can I fool this person in one sitting?" he creates an internal motivation to engage in conversation and perform social behaviors convincingly (at least, for short periods of time). External pressures like “being liked” aren’t usually enough to motivate that.

Lying allows him to emotionally occupy extreme scenarios without actually creating extreme scenarios. If he wants to raise tensions high enough that he can actually feel them, lying is one of the less destructive ways to do so, because it's entirely verbal (including body language, that is) and thus avoids material risk/harm. Now that's not to say it doesn't hurt people [e.g. note 9]. In fact, that's often the point; I wouldn't call him a sadist in the traditional sense, but there is something gratifying about triggering twinges of guilt and empathy in yourself if you don't normally have access to those feelings.

All this to say, Kokichi's habitual small lies aren't driven by a desire to create genuine misunderstandings, or to make people do what he wants [note 10]. I think what he actually seeks from social situations is little bursts of catharsis from witnessing other people’s emotions, and the feeling of control or "winning" that comes solely from being able to deceive them and get those reactions. 

Going "it's a lie!" right after is a really important part of this. It's a punchline, a tiny power trip, a kind of "Bingo!" he can use to declare victory. He doesn't necessarily want people to believe what he said, he just wants them to know that he totally got them and he'll do it again. Because what’s even the point of coming up with all these lies if people are just going to believe them and obliviously move on?

Lying as satire

Finally, and I’ll admit my thoughts on this aren’t quite as fleshed out, but I almost imagine Kokichi's lies as a form of satire, given that one of the few things he seems genuinely (?) passionate about is his right to lie. That is to say, it means something to him, in addition to being internally rewarding. He's had to present a false persona of himself from day one, after all — but now that he's a self-proclaimed bad guy, there's a lot less pressure to do it well. Performing those social behaviors in random, nonsensical patterns, and telling lies that feel just as true as the "honest conversation" he's learned to fake... it's like a form of indignant social button-mashing. It doesn't really matter if his performance conveys a coherent image of a person or not, because it was always arbitrary to him in the first place, you know?

….And I think I'm just going to stop myself there before this gets any longer. Tysm for reading!!!! <3

Disclaimer

…Actually that was a lie, let me get on my soapbox real quick. I think it's safe to say this essay hinges on Kokichi having some form of neurodivergence, however you want to label it. Personally I see him as having some antisocial traits, but I didn’t want to make that a silver bullet, and I thought it’d make more sense to just take the specific traits I see in him and work backwards from there. With that in mind, I want to make it abundantly clear that I don’t mean to assign any moral value to emotions. I can’t say this headcanon is entirely based on my own experiences, but there's a reason I connect with it, and I don't think anyone should be judged or labeled inhuman for emotions they do or do not have.

Moreover, while I explicitly take the stance that his emotions are morally neutral, I am explicitly NOT taking a stance on the morality of his behaviors. My intention here was just to explain them logically. Between you and me, just trust that I'm a Kokichi enjoyer and I did my best to consider things from his perspective.

Credits

Game screencaps from justonegamr and JakkHearts on Youtube. Manga screencap from Mangadex.

I also want to plug this analysis by @/g0nta-g0kuhara — I'm honestly not sure how much of my analysis aligns with/borrows from theirs, but it's definitely one of the posts that informs my current understanding of Kokichi, so it'd feel weird not to at least mention it. Consider giving it a read!

Finally, shout out to @thedaythatwas for peer reviewing this meta!!

Footnotes

These were mostly off the top of my head, so if I got anything wrong, feel free to (again, nicely) point it out ^^;

 “Big lies serve a strategic purpose” Big lies are also what I'd call the "normal" type of lies, just like Maki's Child Caregiver lie, or Komaeda's fake bomb threat — they're meant to be believed and to influence people's decisions. Examples of Kokichi's "big lies": those he tells in order to impersonate the Mastermind (e.g. claiming he loves the killing game); lies to Miu (being oblivious to her murder plot) and Gonta (believing the Killing Game Busters is a good idea) for his Ch.4 scheme, and debatably DICE lies to protect himself and his Ultimate title (though for these I also think he just gets a kick out of trying to juggle such a big lie for so long).

“Small lies” An example of an "emotional" small lie is the times he bursts out crying; he's not necessarily making false claims, but his actions communicate feelings he doesn't have, and most of the time he'll follow up by reverting to a bored expression thus implicitly confessing to the lie. His claim that he can’t taste food is also a pretty good example of a verbal lie: it’s random, difficult to believe, and he immediately follows it up by saying he likes sweet and spicy things. (That last part was definitely intended to imply he was lying, but whether or not he was lying about lying depends on your hc… I personally choose to believe that he has a weak sense of taste and relies on “interesting” textures like carbonation, because I think it parallels my take on his reduced emotions in a fun way.) +++ For further examples, the majority of Kokichi's Salmon Team events are just him spouting random bullshit and then immediately taking it back.

"One line of evidence for reduced empathy/emotions": His thought process often reads to me like someone with low empathy; and his ability to rapidly switch between extreme emotional performances and total flatness suggests that, in his natural form, his internal reactions are either dull or don’t automatically reflect on his face. For example, when Kokichi "gets real" during trials, his expression often goes blank and he comes off as overly blunt/pragmatic (“Everything you said is total BS… You didn't give two shits about Tenko when she was alive." "How do you expect to find the culprit when you're all worried about each other's feelings?" "Why do you guys hate lies so much? […] And some of them are only white lies, or lies to be kind to people…") They're delivered flatly (voice/sprites, and phrasing to a lesser extent) and express frustration with people's hypocrisy around social norms. To me these are moments when he gets so fed up with the social dance taking everyone in circles that he has to step out for a second and drop the mask, even knowing that his true self will make people see him as inhuman. (I probably shouldn’t have to clarify, but for the record I say all this as someone with low empathy myself.) +++++ALSO: I want to credit @/g0nta-g0kuhara's meta for pointing out that Kokichi's expression goes flat in (different) honest moments - linked in credits above - although I ultimately interpret this in a slightly different way for his character.

"Some exceptions to the 'it's a lie' rule": His own thoughts and feelings, which are often kept ambiguous. Lies he doesn't need to retract because they're obviously false ("I hate liars!" or "I was born from the big tree behind Hope's Peak Academy..."). Small *non-compulsive* lies that serve a strategic purpose, like perjury to further the trials (though you could argue these too are "obviously false" and basically retract themselves after a moment of critical thinking; e.g. claiming he killed Angie (ch3), or debatably telling Himiko she mentioned the brick handrail (ch4) because he intentionally casts doubt over the lie by telling it very badly). And of course, he doesn't go back on his "big" lies or the lies that serve to support them.

“Compulsive lying isn’t the best way to impersonate the mastermind”: Although I think his lying is very connected to his boredom, and his boredom connects him to Junko Enoshima, I want to point out that he is unaware of Junko. To the viewers of Danganronpa 53, his behavior absolutely looks like the behavior of a mastermind… but there’s no reason for Kokichi himself to think that “someone pathologically bored who constantly switches personas” is the most believable caricature of the mastermind. I think that’s a coincidence that was engineered by Tsumugi, and from Kokichi’s perspective it’s just part of his personality.

"Tanking his credibility to mask his emotions": As some have pointed out, being constantly dishonest does make it easier for Kokichi to dismiss his own moments of vulnerability and keep his thoughts/feelings ambiguous (e.g. gracefully backing out of his love confession to Shuichi during the love suite by pretending he was joking. The idea that it's a prank is only believable to Shuichi because he already knows Kokichi likes to pull his leg in other ways). I don't disagree with this interpretation of Kokichi's lies, in fact it's a really fascinating angle and part of what makes interpreting him so challenging. However... I still don't think that's the ONLY reason he walks around telling people the sky is green. Its usefulness is pretty limited to cases like the love suite, where he's trying to 'test the waters' and back out if the first approach fails. A superficially similar example is when he cries for Gonta's execution and then whirls around with whole "I don't want to, stupidhead!" bit — he's not actually testing the waters here, because he never intended to go forward with the story 'I'm really sad about Gonta and I regret doing that;' even if you think the tears were real, the plan was always to retract it. What actually saves face for him here is the fact that he's able to stop crying and go on a straight-faced villain monologue afterwards — and all that was *required* to make that believable was his acting skills (admittedly helped by his "evil" reputation, but not necessarily by his "liar" reputation). In other words, I'm inclined to think it would have worked even if he had presented as 'honest but mean-spirited' up until this point. It's the same way Tsumugi can convince us in Ch.6 that she's evil and her grief for previous victims was an act, despite never having presented herself as a liar until now; Kokichi is lying about being a heartless villain, while Tsumugi (ostensibly) is not, but they have the same effect in the moment because their ability to switch rapidly between 'good' and 'evil' personas proves *in itself* that they're good actors, and that one of those personas must be false, regardless of how their honesty was perceived beforehand.

"Kokichi lacks emotional stake in other people": This is simply a headcanon I am positing because I think it has interesting implications for his relationship with lies. Please don't be mistaken when I say that Kokichi doesn't care about the people around him (all of the English words for "caring" are frustratingly ambiguous, in my opinion). I don't think Kokichi experiences "care" as an emotion very often, no, but that doesn't mean he can't take interest in people, have opinions on them, or "care about" them through his actions. Now, whether or not he actually does that.... is not the topic of this essay either!

"An intellectual challenge": To lie, you have to continually generate a false narrative (rather than just regurgitating the truth), you have to track which routes you've left open based on what you've already said, and you have to assess whether or not they believe you (...which are all similar to calculations you'd already be used to doing if you don't have empathy). If you want to win, you have to do all of this on the fly and do it really, really well. And once people know you're a liar, it not only gets harder to convince them of your lies, it also gets harder to convince them of the truth; once lies are introduced, the pressure to perform well pervades every part of the conversation. Of course, this is way more fun with bigger lies (like DICE lies, in my opinion), but the little ones still take a modest amount of effort (an amount he can afford to expend on a daily basis) and yield a much more immediate reward.

"Lying still hurts people": e.g. Kokichi accuses Kaede of strong arming everyone during the Death Road of Despair, then accuses everyone else of attacking her the following morning. This one is a complicated example because it was such an obvious lie that I really have trouble believing that he wanted anyone else to buy it (I really think the point was to annoy people and raise social tensions), but even though the lie was quickly pointed out, it still actually made everyone gang up on Kaede, to the point she leaves to cry in her room afterwards.

“Lying isn’t to make people do what he wants”: Again, I'm just talking about his everyday compulsive lying here. While he does use DICE related lies to make people do what he wants (e.g. make Shuichi hang out with him), I consider those part of his "big schemes" rather than his habitual behavior, since his claims about DICE are consistent, well thought-out, and long term. Not to mention, the veracity of those claims isn't too important to me, since he's already very transparent about the fact that he's trying to threaten people into doing his bidding in these cases.

[bluiex]

I finished part 3 of the limited life mafia au “scene” I was working on. This time with less pining and some violence.

—————

Grian stares at the rival gang through his dark shades, showing no emotion. Him and Joel fixed their glasses just before this meeting. He doesn’t recognize any of these people, probably a new gang. It makes sense now why Cleo wanted them to come, it can save a hassle if there’s enough of them here. It doesn’t take long upon meeting her for people to fear Cleo, but it’s a good insurance policy to give them numbers if they’re too cocky.

Grian definitely considers himself lucky to have become some form of allies to them. It doesn’t completely make them safe, but it definitely stops them from being an immediate target. He’ll probably remember the first time Scar appeared at their bakery for the rest of his life.

Grian stiffens when he hears Cleo’s voice turn low, a deadly calm in their tone, “this is just a civil discussion.” The underlying threat of how they can make it not is clear to Grian. It makes him nervous even if he won’t be the target of her wrath.

��Of course,” the other leader replies, seeming unfazed. Well, seems like this will only end one way. Grian tightens his grip on his TnT and lighter, ready to pull them out a moments notice.

Cleo casts a brief glance back at them, a signal, before facing the other gang again, “so let’s keep it as such.”

The other smirks, “I’d agree, but I think you should be taken down from your high horse.”

This time they all tense, even Scar and Bdubs. Cleo, however, seems unaffected, “what does that mean?” A chill goes down Grian’s spine at her words.

“It’s simple,” is all he says before snapping his fingers. All six of them take cover as the other gang unleashes fire.

Grian quickly takes out his TnT and lights it, throwing them out from where he’s taken cover. The gunfire stopping is accompanied by panicked shouts. He covers his ears to block out the sound of the explosives going off. The moment they do he pulls out his gun and peers over. Unsurprisingly, Cleo is already looking out and returning fire. Grian gets a few shots off on his own, but they’re already fleeing.

They all only step out of cover when everything falls completely silent. Grian approaches and nudges one of the bodies on the ground, they’re already dead. A quick glance around reveals how the leader and his presumed right hand man are completely gone.

Grian turns around to look back at everyone else to see Scar staring at him, who quickly turns around to face Cleo again. He shrugs it off and approaches her as well. There’s a frown on their face. “Mom?” Scar cautiously tries.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them,” she replies, eyes narrowed, “don’t you worry.”

A dazzling smile crosses his face, “of course, I wasn’t worried.”

Grian chooses not to point out how he can see the worry in his eyes, mostly out of fear of his own life, “think they’re going to try to pose a problem?”

“They can try all they like,” they reply, “they lack the strength that we have.”

Grian nods, knowing what she means, the trust the other members have are based more on fear than respect, which doesn’t make it trust. “What’s the plan?” Joel asks, careful.

“Wait to see if they do want to try anything,” Cleo answers, confident. “We’ll get in contact with you once we hear anything, I assume you’ll do the same.”

It wasn’t a question, but Joel answers anyways, “of course.”

Grian takes that as the sign it is that Cleo wants them to leave, he nods, “we’ll keep an ear out.”

Scar gives them a slight bow, staring closer to Grian then the other Bad Boys, “I’ll see you again shortly.”

Grian fights to keep the blush down, nodding slightly. The three of them make their leave soon after. Jimmy elbows him the moment they’re out of sight, a knowing look in his eyes. Grian shoves him away, scoffing.

BOOOO LESS PINING /j/j/j YEAAAAH GUN FIGHT LETS GOOO- dude this is so good.. Grian cant help but blush around Scar- esp if he looks like that, bowing and prob giving Grian an smirk

[all54321]

A “Delivery” (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

It’s finally here. I had a couple ideas of how this could go, so it took me a bit to decide which one to do.

—————

Grian stares at the rival gang through his dark shades, showing no emotion. Him and Joel fixed their glasses just before this meeting. He doesn’t recognize any of these people, probably a new gang. It makes sense now why Cleo wanted them to come, it can save a hassle if there’s enough of them here. It doesn’t take long upon meeting her for people to fear Cleo, but it’s a good insurance policy to give them numbers if they’re too cocky.

Grian definitely considers himself lucky to have become some form of allies to them. It doesn’t completely make them safe, but it definitely stops them from being an immediate target. He’ll probably remember the first time Scar appeared at their bakery for the rest of his life.

Grian stiffens when he hears Cleo’s voice turn low, a deadly calm in their tone, “this is just a civil discussion.” The underlying threat of how they can make it not is clear to Grian. It makes him nervous even if he won’t be the target of her wrath.

“Of course,” the other leader replies, seeming unfazed. Well, seems like this will only end one way. Grian tightens his grip on his TnT and lighter, ready to pull them out a moments notice.

Cleo casts a brief glance back at them, a signal, before facing the other gang again, “so let’s keep it as such.”

The other smirks, “I’d agree, but I think you should be taken down from your high horse.”

This time they all tense, even Scar and Bdubs. Cleo, however, seems unaffected, “what does that mean?” A chill goes down Grian’s spine at her words.

“It’s simple,” is all he says before snapping his fingers. All six of them take cover as the other gang unleashes fire.

Grian quickly takes out his TnT and lights it, throwing them out from where he’s taken cover. The gunfire stopping is accompanied by panicked shouts. He covers his ears to block out the sound of the explosives going off. The moment they do he pulls out his gun and peers over. Unsurprisingly, Cleo is already looking out and returning fire. Grian gets a few shots off on his own, but they’re already fleeing.

They all only step out of cover when everything falls completely silent. Grian approaches and nudges one of the bodies on the ground, they’re already dead. A quick glance around reveals how the leader and his presumed right hand man are completely gone.

Grian turns around to look back at everyone else to see Scar staring at him, who quickly turns around to face Cleo again. He shrugs it off and approaches her as well. There’s a frown on their face. “Mom?” Scar cautiously tries.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them,” she replies, eyes narrowed, “don’t you worry.”

A dazzling smile crosses his face, “of course, I wasn’t worried.”

Grian chooses not to point out how he can see the worry in his eyes, mostly out of fear of his own life, “think they’re going to try to pose a problem?”

“They can try all they like,” they reply, “they lack the strength that we have.”

Grian nods, knowing what she means, the trust the other members have are based more on fear than respect, which doesn’t make it trust. “What���s the plan?” Joel asks, careful.

“Wait to see if they do want to try anything,” Cleo answers, confident. “We’ll get in contact with you once we hear anything, I assume you’ll do the same.”

It wasn’t a question, but Joel answers anyways, “of course.”

Grian takes that as the sign it is that Cleo wants them to leave, he nods, “we’ll keep an ear out.”

Scar gives them a slight bow, staring closer to Grian then the other Bad Boys, “I’ll see you again shortly.”

Grian fights to keep the blush down, nodding slightly. The three of them make their leave soon after. Jimmy elbows him the moment they’re out of sight, a knowing look in his eyes. Grian shoves him away, scoffing.

[charliedawn]

THE JOKER PUNCH LINE PART 2:

(I decided to change the story a bit as to make it more interesting and shift from a nurse reader to a policewoman one. I'm sorry but, the other slashers will have little appearance in this series and I will not be adding the Hannibal family just yet as I do not see how they would fit ? This is mainly a DC fanfic and I changed some things to make everything a minimum plausible. Hope you'll still like it.)

Warning : LONG

Y/N got out of her cab and looked around, searching for the address written on a piece of paper in her hand. She had been transferred to the Gotham police department and was impatient to discover the city she would be staying in for at least a few years. She then looked up and saw written on the building just in front of her in big bold letters :

Gotham City Police.

She took a big breath to give herself courage before grabbing her bag and finally entering the police station. She then saw a lot of policemen running around right and left in total chaos and waited patiently until one of them actually noticed her and stopped to greet her.

"Hey there ! What can I do for you, miss ?"

She smiled gratefully at the man before asking.

"Hello. I'm the new partner of commissioner Gordon ? Could you please indicate me his desk ?"

The young man opened his mouth to reply, but a loud voice interrupted him, coming from the end of the hall on their right.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ACE CHEMICALS FACTORY IS ON FIRE ?!"

The officer then addressed the young woman a sympathetic smile before pointing to the direction of the voice.

"Right this way. Follow the yells. And, be careful. He seems to be in a mood.."

Y/N nodded gratefully at the young man before grabbing her suitcase once more and making her way down the hall. When she knocked, a ruff and grumpy voice replied from the inside.

"COME IN !"

She tentatively opened the door and was welcomed by the vision of a greatly disorganized office with poles of papers on the desk, so much it almost hid the man behind them. The man who was on the phone and had a worried frown on his face; he wore big glasses and had a thick moustache. He seemed to be the officer as he gestured her to seat down as he continued to shout on the phone. She immediately did as told and sat in front of him.

"FINE ! FINE ! WE'LL SEND A TEAM !"

He hang up and sighed heavily before looking up at Y/N.

"My name is commissioner Gordon and I'm the guy who's gonna be your partner in this hell until you either quit or one of us dies. Look, I will be straightforward with you. I do not have time to be civile with you, so either you can follow my orders to a fault and we'll get along just fine or I'm sending you back, got it ? My partner got killed 3 weeks ago and this is why they sent me you. A newbie from another city. Gotham is dangerous and there are more chances of you getting killed than you dying of old age, especially when wearing your badge."

He then opened a drawer and gave you said badge. You took it and pinned it to your breast pocket before replying confidently.

"Without wanting to sound disrespectful, I understand why I'm here. I've lived my whole childhood in Gotham. I do not intend to disobey your orders, sir. I also do not intend to die any time soon. I only want to do my job."

Gordon's eyes softened somehow at your words and he finally answered with a weak smile.

"I respect that."

He then extended his hand across his desk for you to shake and you gladly did. The man had come a bit gruff at first, but you perfectly knew that it was because of the high risks in being a police officer in this city. You knew that. You had made your research before coming and even though you were scared at first, you still wanted to try and change this city for the better.

"Y/N. Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you too.."

Harley and Arthur were staying at her apartment and Harley had to admit that he was definitely different from her puddin’. First of all, he was looking at TV a lot, which her Joker never did. He had no interest in anything else than his business. So, she thought that once this new Joker was busy with making phone calls, searching people on her computer and watching the news, she would try to get rid of what made her…Pudding’s. She locked herself in the bathroom and with a shaky hand, attempted at cutting the ends of her pigtails her Puddin’ liked so much…but, couldn’t bring herself to do it and only threw the scissors in the sink before breaking in tears of frustration.

"Why is it so hard ?!"

She suddenly felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned around swiftly with a gun in her hand, ready to shoot whoever it was, but was shocked to see Joker n2, staring at her with his hands raised in the air. She then looked at the door she was sure she had locked, only to find it wide open. He then took a step forward and she took one backwards, soon becoming trapped against him and the sink, the gun still in her shaking hand.

"I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I was worried."

He apologised and Harley’s eyes widened in stupor. W..Worried ? He was worried she might…? What ? She then realised and lowered the gun.

"Nah. I was just trying to…move on."

She looked at the pair of scissors wistfully and Joker n2 nodded before lowering his hands and leaning down. She thought he was going to kiss her, but her only picked up the scissors before standing up with a small smile.

"I’ll help you."

She hesitated before finally nodding in agreement and sitting down on a chair. She then petulantly proclaimed.

"To be clear, I could have done it on my own. I’m just not good with scissors !"

Joker n2 smiled knowingly before nodding and letting her hair out of their confines.

"I know. I’m just helping."

To be honest, Harley felt good with this new Joker’s hands in her hair. Her Joker’s were soft and cold like marble, but his were used by time and experience, they also radiated a certain comfortable warmth that Harley could only relax with as they started untangling the knots in her hair. She let out a relaxed sigh before Joker n2 whispered.

"By the way, my name is Arthur."

Arthur, huh ? Not bad..However, her thoughts quickly shifted when she heard him use the scissors. She knew she had to do it, that her Puddin’ didn’t want her anymore…but, it still hurt. When Arthur was finished, he put her hair back up into two pigtails and showed her his work. It was a nice work for sure, but she couldn’t help feeling as if she was betraying her Puddin’ and broke into tears once more.

"It hurts", she finally sobbed against his chest and Arthur sighed before putting the scissors back next to the sink. ‘That was it’, she thought. He would be bored and leave her…but, he didn’t. He knelt next to her and embraced her, patting her hair soothingly.

"Ssh. It’s normal."

She thought she couldn’t cry anymore, but was surprised as even mire tears gushed out of her eyes as she tightened her hold on J..Arthur. He didn’t recoil, he accepted her sadness and tried to comfort her the best he could.

"Don’t worry, my dear. You won’t be alone any longer.."

She stopped crying at his words and tilted her head upwards and searched his eyes for any sign he would be lying, hut found none. But, Harley was never good at reading men..She quickly wiped her tears and stood up with a large smile.

"I’m fine and ready to work, boss !"

Arthur frowned at the appellation before gently reminding her.

"Partner, miss Quinn. You’re not working for me, remember ?"

She seemed to suddenly remember and let out a small laugh before hitting her forehead theatrically.

"Of course ! I’m my own woman ! I forgot !"

Arthur stayed silence for a moment, looking at her strangely..with a certain hint of something she couldn’t quite describe. Pity ? No..He wasn’t the type to pity..He then stood up too and walked towards the living room before taking his vest and going for the door, but just as he was going to open, he restrained and turned towards Harley to inform her of his intention.

"There’s someone you should meet..She’s a very important part of my plan to change this city for the better and I hope that…She’ll make you understand something."

Harley drifted at the word "she"..A woman then ? An old lover perhaps ? She couldn’t help but reply darkly.

"Who is she ?"

If he noticed the ominous undertone, he didn’t mention it and only replied with a small nostalgic smile and a shrug.

"An old friend.."

A few hours later :

Harley stopped the car in front of an impressive black and white building with a set of expensive cars parked in front. She was almost tempted to steal one, but then remembered that they may belong to this "mysterious old friend".

"Wow..That friend of yours must be loaded !"

She whistled appreciatively at the size of the building and was surprised when the security guards moved out of Arthur’s way, as if they were expecting him. When they got in, Harley smiled widely at the rich interior made of expensive leather and marble. It was like walking in a palace and Harley wondered how she had never heard of this place and how her Puddin’ had never mentioned it to her ? A young woman then leaded them to an office where everything shined so much it momentarily blinded Harley. They were about to seat when the double doors on their right opened widely and another woman emerged, her hair black and white like the building from the outside.

"Where is he ?!", she demanded to the young woman who had led them her who seemed to have lost her words as she pointed the both of them. The black and white woman turned around and addresses them a wide smile.

"Arthur darling ! What a nice surprise ?"

She kissed him on both cheeks, like some of these fancy French chicks Harley used to see on TV and be jealous at. However, she was surprised when the woman turned towards her with another bright smile.

"Well, hello there…Don’t you look absolutely divine ?! I looove the look."

She then turned around Harley who finally smiled back and swooned at the compliment.

"Really ?! Well, you’re not so bad yourself !"

Cruella’s eyebrows shot up and she eyed Arthur with a delighted grin.

"I like your new friend.."

Arthur smiled before nodding and then, Cruella turned towards her secretary and brought her finger to her lips. Her secretary seemed to understand and nodded wordlessly before going for a walk and Cruella gestured the door to her office, which Arthur and Harley took it as a sign to enter. As soon as they were inside, Cruella locked the door and sat at her desk, inviting them to do the same with a flick of her wrist. Arthur indulged and took a seat in front of her while Harley remained standing, admiring the zebra patterns all around and the fancy leather of the chairs and sofa..Damn.

"What can I do for you today, Arthur ?"

Cruella finally asked, her chin resting on the back of her hand while her eyes were solely fixed on him. She already knew why he was here. She was no fool. Arthur knew as much and didn’t insult her with small talk.

"I’m here to ask for the favour you promised me a few years ago..when I promised the monopoly on the Gotham’s clothing industry and introduced you to some of your greatest clients. I need your help, Cruella."

The black and white-haired woman gave him a knowing smile before leaning forward, trying to decipher what was going on in Arthur’s head to come in here and ask such a thing of her ?

"It was a long time ago, Arthur. You were someone back there. Now ? A new Joker’s in town and the business is buzzing. I don’t need anything. I’m completely satisfied.."

Arthur addressed her an understanding smile..He knew all that, of course. However, Harley had mentioned something interesting in the last few days..Jack was trying to extend his power and friends beyond Gotham by how his club was full of strangers, obviously not from Gotham, which meant Cruella wasn’t the only high-couture mistress in town..Others came, which meant she would soon have competition.

"Are you ?", his smile turned cold as he leaned forward himself, making Cruella’s smile falter for a second. "I heard from my new friend here that Joker was about to break the contract with you..Come on, dearie. Drop the act. You do not have the monopoly anymore, especially with all these new societies and business partners of the 'new' Joker. You’re far from having the advantage here, ‘Cruella darling’."

The way she gripped the arms of her chair only confirmed what he already knew and he smiled, knowing that he was about to win. However, she suddenly took out a gun and pointed it at his head.

"How dare you come in here and make such a pitiful attempt at making mr join forces with you ?! My business is my business. I won’t let you insult me."

Harley suddenly stood between the both of them, ready to defend Arthur if needed, but Arthur gently grabbed her arm to reassure her.

"It’s okay, miss Quinn."

She seemed hesitant, but finally indulged—not without sending Cruella a nasty stare. Arthur didn’t stand up and only leaned back and crossed his fingers over his lap in a nonchalant way.

"Forgive me if I worded my proposal too harshly. I’m just wondering if this is really what you want ? Doing the other Joker's dirty business to get scraps and a few places in town ?"

Cruella looked away and shook her head. She couldn't admit that Jack was a pain and always wanted a better cut each month and didn't hesitate before transforming one of her shops in his new "hideouts". It was making business difficult, especially when everyone knew that she needed him for her transactions to go smoothly, or Joker and other criminal crews wouldn't think twice before rampaging her ships and manufacture..However, she refused to tell Arthur and tried to save appearances by denying.

"I don't need your hel—!"

"Please.", he interrupted her, "I saw the shops on my way here, Cruella. There are only a few left and even though you want to convince everyone that you're still on top, people are not blind. I'm simply offering.."

"And what exactly are you offering, Arthur ?! You can't save my business. You couldn't even save yourself from that other Joker. He replaced you. You've been gone for five years..FIVE years, Arthur. You left. I had to turn to him for protection because you flee."

Arthur stayed silent for a moment after that, looking at Cruella who he now understood the true reason behind her anger..She resented him for leaving. He wanted to tell her that he didn't want to leave without making sure that she would stay safe, but Jack had more than hastened his leave and had made sure to send him far away enough where he couldn't even have access to a phone for more than 3 years and no way to communicate with any of his old associates. However, it wasn't her fault and it was true that she had managed to survive without him for 5 years. He just thought she deserved better. He finally sighed before standing up and put a piece of paper on the table with a location, a date and an hour.

"If it is of any consolation to you ? I deplore how our partnership ended. Please, think about it."

He then turned around and left, Harley Quinn a few steps after him. However, Harley glanced at Cruella before leaving and found her staring at the note Joker gave her before throwing it in one of her drawers. Harley didn't feel jealous anymore..Well, maybe a bit ? But, she had to give it to her..Cruella was one hell of a woman. Respect.

In the car :

Joker seemed deep in thought and Harley didn't dare interrupt his thoughts, gazing out the window and giggled as she saw a bunch of squirrels climbing up a tree. Joker was brought out of his daydream by the sound of her laughter and peeked over her shoulder at the famous Penguin estate squirrels. He remembered the first time he ever set foot in this domain. He first thought of Oswald Cobblepot as a rather rude and vile character, but had grown to see him as a valuable partner an asset, which led him to be surprised as to hear of his partnership with Jack. That man was anything, but disloyal. He was one of Arthur's first business partners and even Arthur had to admit he was sad to learn of his passing..giving everything to his son. Oswald Cobblepot Jr. A young man which he hoped he could convince to change sides, as he had great plans for the young man. He knew that not a few weeks ago, he had publicly announced his candidacy to become mayor of Gotham. He actually seconded it. The young man wasn't a fool and even though he was a criminal, never killed without good justification. He had checked thoroughly. Once they were in front of the mansion, Arthur and Harley were welcomed by a young maid and two heavily armed goonies. The maid invited him inside, but the two men stayed at the door to stop Harley from going in.

"Sorry. The boss said only the man clown was allowed inside.", one of them explained and Harley pouted.

"It's because I'm a girl, isn't it ?! Come on, guys ! We used to work together!"

The other goon shook his head categorically and smiled apologetically.

"No. It's because boss remembers that last time he allowed you inside, you broke most of his antics, thrashed the guest room and painted on his walls..Sorry."

"WHAT?! THAT LITTLE—!"

She fumed and was about to use her hammer to make her way through when Arthur smiled reassuringly at her.

"Don't worry, miss Quinn. I'll be fast out. I promise."

His smile calmed her instantly and she finally sighed loudly in annoyance, but indulged.

"Fiiiine..But, if you're not out of here in half an hour ? I come in to get you, got it ?!"

Arthur could only admire the girl's courage and nodded in agreement.

"Very well. I'll see you soon, miss Quinn."

She let the end of her bat hit the ground and rested her elbow on the other end, staring dreamily at Arthur as he disappeared in the huge mansion and her strange giggle wasn't lost on one of the goonies who arched an eyebrow quizzically at her.

"Well well..If I didn't know any better, I would say that you got it hot for the new Joker..?"

Harley immediately rolled her eyes playfully at his words with a wide grin.

"New Joker ? Nah. You're wrong. Not anymore anyway.."

The two goons looked at each other, confused by her answer but she only giggled again enigmatically. They couldn't understand and Harley knew they probably never would.

Arthur followed the maid among the endless corridors, only to stop in front of a large wooden door where two other goons were waiting, which meant that the young Penguin probably knew who he was and what to expect..

When they entered the living room, Arthur felt a faint feeling of melancholy take over him as he looked around and found the place unchanged, even Cobblepot Sr. painting above the fireplace. He then noticed the form in the old leather chair with a glass of whiskey in hand. Finally, the form took the shape of a human being as it stood up and Arthur's eye widened at the uncanny ressemblance with the old Penguin when the man faced them.

"Welcome !"

Arthur wasn't fooled by the man's jovial expression. He could tell right away that their presence was far from welcomed, but still addressed a polite smile at the young man before extending his hand forward.

"Joker.", he introduced himself and Oswald Cobblepot Jr. stared at his outstretched hand for a few seconds before shaking it.

"I know. Your reputation precedes you, sir. My father told me about you before..You know..He kicked the bucket."

He tried to sound nonchalant mentioning his father's death, but Arthur could see the pain it hid as if it was in plain sight..He was hurt.

"My condolences. I deeply respected your father."

It was the truth. Penguin Sr. had always been a good ally and, in a way, had introduced him to most of his old crime partners. However, he was surprised when Oswald suddenly let out a loud and bitter laugh.

"Don't lie. Nobody liked my father.."

Arthur frowned and was about to protest when Oswald suddenly looked up at him with a small smile.

"However..He did talk to me a lot about you. He said you were the master of crime and never refused a good business, is that true ?"

Arthur smiled apologetically before shaking his head.

"I never saw myself as a master of anything."

Oswald's smile didn't falter, he only shrugged before looking up at his father's portait.

"Disappointing. But, I like your honesty. My father always did say you were an honest man—one of a kind—which leads me to my next question.."

Suddenly, Oswald raised his cane with impressive speed and a sharp blade sprang out of it, close enough to Arthur jugular to make the clown fear he was going to end his life before he could achieve his goal, but Oswald then spat out, his voice full of hatred and venom.

"...Why weren't you with him when that plague of a bat took his life ?! My father praised you ! He never praised anyone, not even me ! So, why ?! Tell me ! Tell me why even when you left him to die by the hands of Batman, he never ceased to hold you in the highest esteem ?!"

Arthur's eyes widened a bit in surprise as he could sense jealousy and the anger in the young man's voice..Arthur smiled and then, at the worst possible moment, his atrocious laugh erupted from deep within him. It started as a small tremor, but quickly erupted to a full-on mad laughter and it only seemed to anger Oswald more as the tip of his blade pierced his skin.

"Stop laughing, or I will cut off your tongue !", Oswald shrieked, but it didn't help Arthur as he kept laughing and even Arthur himself was starting to worry his condition would make the other man react violently. But, to both of their surprises, Arthur's reply came between hiccups of laughter and involuntary sobs.

"You..You think..I didn't...try ?!"

Oswald's brow furrowed in confusion and he waited until the clown's laughter died down completely before asking for an explanation. Arthur's uncontrolled rictus disappeared as he took a sharp breath to calm himself before standing up straight again and looking at Oswald in all seriousness.

"Your father knew where I was. He was the most powerful man in this city, and you think he didn't know where to find me ? He could have called. Tell me that he was in trouble with the Bat. But, he didn't. I had no way to communicate with him or go to him as I was held in a highly guarded establishment, an hospital supervised day and night in the middle of nowhere for more than 5 years. I didn't know he was even dead until they announced it in the news..I never intended to leave him. I even asked him not to get involved with the Bat during my absence. But, for some reason ? He didn't obey me and never visited me once while I was in St Louis ! Now, I'll ask you this ? Who left who ?"

Oswald stayed stunned for a couple of seconds after Arthur's outburst and, after a moment, finally lowered his umbrella. He then took a few shaky steps back, his mind numbed by the alcool and the sudden surge of overwhelming information, then plopped back down in his leather chair with a defeated expression. 'This is one depressing penguin', Arthur thought as he seemed to almost pity the young Penguin heir. However, he had come for a reason and wouldn't go without his goal accomplished. He sat down in the other chair across from Oswald who was staring at the crackling fire again, a hazy and absent-minded expression on his face.

"I'm here for business, sir Cobblepot Jr. I was led to believe that you have a current partnership with Ja..Joker ?"

Penguin snorted rather improperly before taking another sip of his drink, staring at the fire before replying with a shrug.

"If you can call that a partnership ? He provides me alcool and I provide him money..But, I wouldn't call us partners. He doesn't understand me or my ambitions ! I wanted him to support me in the upcoming elections, but the fool doesn't care.."

Arthur smiled and saw the opportunity as he made his proposal.

"How about you and I make a deal then ?"

Penguin arched an eyebrow at that, but was still tempted as he asked.

"What kind of deal ?"

"I'll make you the mayor of this city.", Arthur replied confidently, but didn't expect Penguin Jr. to actually laugh at his proposal.

"Have you seen my popularity rates ? I'm less eligible than Bane, if Bane was an actual candidate..People don't like the Cobblepots. Never have and never will."

Arthur was about to deny, but one look from Oswald Jr. and he decided that the best choice was to stay silent. It was true that Cobblepot Sr. never was a crowd person and even when he tried, people usually made fun of his physical disabilities rather than judge the man. He knew that struggle all too well. Luckily, the younger Cobblepot hadn't inherited his father's unfortunate physical disadvantages and had more than enough charisma to win the election..if he would stop complaining and slow it on the alcool. He just needed a little push..Arthur took his glass from his hand and slipped the same piece of paper than he had given to Cruella a few hours prior.

"If you want my help ? Meet me at this address. I don't know about you, sir Cobblepot Jr., but your father did have great hopes for you. He may have never drowned you in compliments, but that doesn't mean he never cared about you."

Penguin didn't answer and Arthur left.

When he was alone, Oswald looked at the card in his hand and wondered if he should actually accept the old Joker's proposal ? Who knew what it would entail ? He wasn't a fool and knew that a deal always included two sides of the bargain..He was concerned as to what Arthur would ask of him if he accepted his help ? He hated owing anyone anything..He sighed before putting the card in his breast pocket..He would have to think about it.

As soon as he was out, Harley jumped on him to hug him tightly.

"YAY ! YOU'RE ALIVE ! I KNEW IT !"

She was definitely worried..but she wouldn't tell him that. Arthur smiled and patted her back gently.

"Yes. I am..We've got one more stop and then, we'll be off for the day."

Harley smiled widely at the prospect of spending more time with her new favorite clown and nodded vividly.

"Great ! Where to ?!"

Arthur got in the car and when they were both in the car, gave the address to their cab driver.

"Gotham City Bank, please."

Harley frowned, as she didn't understand why Arthur would want to go to the bank ? Unless..

"ARE WE GONNA ROB A BANK ?!"

Her eyes sparkled at the prospect of an actual robbery with her new partner and a big enthusiastic smile appeared on her face. However, the cab driver gave them both an odd look that the both of them dismissed as Arthur smiled and nodded.

"Yes. We've got someone to impress.."

She clapped her hands excitedly. This was going to be fun ! Arthur asked the cab driver to wait for them in front and gave him a few green papers and the driver wordlessly accepted them.

A few minutes later :

The cab pulled in front of Gotham's main bank and Arthur smiled before opening the car door and walking around to open the door for Harley. She giggled as he led her out and they both looked at each other before nodding in sync before bursting the door open and Harley shouted.

"OKAY, PEOPLE ! YOU KNOW THE DRILL ! EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND !"

She then got out a gun and started shooting up randomly and everyone obeyed. Joker smiled as he saw one of the staff members reaching for the alarm and pointed his gun at him before he could.

"Is your life really worth that small moment of glory ?"

The man hesitated before lowering his hand in defeat. Arthur's smile grew before he gave the man one of the bags and asked him to fill it. The man nodded, too afraid to use words as Arthur left Harley to deal with the other witnesses. The man shakily entered the code to the main vault and Arthur didn't hurry him, patiently waiting for him to finish before entering after him. The man gave him a few worried looks before slowly filling the bag. Was he going to kill him at the end ? Was this how he was going to die ? He had a family..He had his whole life ahead of him and didn't want to die..

"Ted ?"

The staff member suddenly stilled for a moment at the mention of his name to look at the Joker who surprised him as he lowered his gun.

"Relax...I'm not going to kill you. I just need money to achieve a goal of mine. And for that plan to work ? Killing you wouldn't be beneficial for me."

Ted gulped loudly before giving another side glance at Arthur that seemed sincere, but the gun in his hand brought Ted back to reality. He was a criminal. Criminals lie. Ted shook his head before continuing his task, wondering what that big plan of his was ?

"Do you want to know what it is ? My big plan ?"

Arthur guessed his silent question and Ted didn't dare reply, even though he wanted to know, so he could at least know what to say to the police ?

"I'll tell you..I'm going to heal Gotham."

Ted's eyes widened at his answer and he forced himself not to laugh as he said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I didn't know Gotham was sick ? Besides, aren't you the problem ? You and the other criminals and rich hypocrites of this city ?"

Arthur took a few steps back and sat down before resting his chin on his palm, fixing Ted with a small enigmatic smile.

"I used to be like you..You think I'm a criminal. And, maybe you're right ? But, don't worry. When I'm finished ? You won't have to worry about me.."

Ted raised a doubtful eyebrow at his mysterious answer before sighing and handing him the bag.

"Here."

Arthur thanked him before taking the back and turning around to leave. Ted was surprised to see him actually keeping his promise and not killing him and, after a second of hesitation, asked.

"Is that really what you want to do ? Heal Gotham ? How will the money help you with that ?"

Arthur didn't answer and only gave him another one of his enigmatic smiles before shrugging, as it to say 'you'll see'. Ted didn't insist and as soon as he was back, he addressed Harley a nod and Harley smiled widely before hopping to him and staring at Ted.

"Sooo..Want me to kill him ?"

Ted shivered, as he wondered if the Joker was going to say yes, but he shook his head negatively before leaving Ted to join the other hostages. Joker then grabbed Harley and led her outside before the police sirens could be heard. Ted followed the strange clown with his eyes and heard a lady next to him whisper to him.

"Gosh..They're crazy."

For some reason ? Ted wasn't so sure anymore and didn't even reply to the woman. Was the clown really that crazy ?

The cab was still there when they returned and, to Harley's surprise, the driver didn't even seem shocked when they jumped in and started driving away. Arthur saw people filming and smiled before opening the widow and took a couple handfuls of green bills to throw them in the air.

"Take it ! Take it all !"

The crowd quickly got on the road to gather as many green papers as possible, unconsciously making a barrage between the criminals and the police cars. Arthur smiled and even met out another one of his signature laughs, Harley following suit. Somehow ? It felt good. Harley took another handful and threw them outside with a big grin on the face and Arthur let her. However, they still needed at least half of the bag for their plan to succeed and closed it after a few minutes. He then asked the driver to stop at the rendez-vous point where he was sure Penguin and Cruella were already waiting for them..Harley got out of the cab and she thought Arthur would follow, but Arthur stayed in the car for a couple minutes more before leaning forward to get a view of the driver and grinned knowingly.

"So...impressed, M. Scarecrow, or do you prefer M. Jonathan Crane ?"

The driver's breath hitched..How did he know ? But, before he could ask, Arthur laughed.

"I must admit..It wasn't easy to track you down. Especially after your many years in Arkham. But, imagine my surprise when I heard you had found yourself a small job as a local cab driver ? A man of your intellect..So, I decided to introduce myself. As I am a man of action, I first wanted to show my powerful associates and my..skills. I'm going to be straightforward. I want you to join me and I'm sure you and I could accomplish great things together..But, if you refuse ? I'll understand. Your choice."

Arthur waited patiently for his answer and Jonathan's mind started to weigh the pros and cons of such a partnership. He knew the man had powerful allies by the stops they had done this morning and the way he had dealt with the bank robbery, Jonathan was convinced the man was far from a fool and everything had been planned and calculated with minutiae to perfection..but, that made Arthur an even greater threat. On the other hand, what did he have to lose ?

"Fine. I'll do it."

Arthur smiled in genuine contempt and nodded. He had been the easiest one to convince..

"On one condition. I want to see your fear."

..Or not. Arthur used to be afraid when he was only some lowlife rat in the street, gaining his daily penance by amusing a bunch of children and sufficient in his misery..He used to be afraid of everything. But, as the Joker ? He didn't feel afraid any longer..Not even of death. But, he forced himself to smile and appear genuine as he replied.

"Of course. I don't see why not ? However, I have a condition of my own to that clause of our agreement."

Jonathan arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, encouraging him to state his condition.

"Never use your serum on me without my consent. You want my fear, I'll show you when the time is right..Deal ?"

Jonathan stayed silent for a moment before finally sighing and his lips twitching upwards.

"You're a tough dealer, sir. I respect that..Deal."

They shook hands on it and when they both got out of the cab, Harley felt this chill course through her body..As if she knew something big was about to happen and it wasn't two human beings who had just stepped out of the car, but Chaos and Discord about to bring order to this world which didn't make any..And, far from feeling threatened, Harley embraced it and smiled widely, wider than ever before..Arthur addressed her a look which made her weak in the knees, her heart beating a thousand times a minute and her cheeks heat up..It was the same sensation she used to get from her pudding when they started seeing each other, but this time was so much stronger and she knew, she just knew that this man would get them far, farther than she had ever dreamed of. She happily skipped up and down after them and entered the building.

It was going to be exciting.

Once inside :

As predicted, Penguin Jr. and Cruella were already waiting for them and Cruella smiled when she saw Arthur.

"Finally, darling ! I was starting to worry you had forgotten about me !"

Arthur replied with a smile of his own before inviting Harley and Jonathan to take a seat. He had built that place himself, the whole building was an old hideout of his where he had everything he needed for his plan to work. He had made sure to ask a few old loyal friends to keep an eye on it and was happy to see the place as well-preserved as he had envisioned it to be. But, he wasn't going to linger on the satisfying state of the place when he had guests.

"I'm glad you all agreed to come. I was worried you wouldn't.."

A lie.

He had chosen them all specifically for their desperation and because he knew they would hear him out. Plus, they were the only people left in Gotham that could and actually would change it for the better, even though they didn't know it yet. They were the perfect candidates and Arthur was going to mold them into the perfect people he knew would be worthy to one day govern this city. He smiled at the prospect, his eyes stopping on each of his four choices and already imagining what they could become together.

"Enough politeness. What do you want, Joker ?"

Penguin Jr. asked and hit the end of his cane on the floor, showing his impatience. Arthur smiled again. He would have to work on that. But, for now..

"I want us all to work together as a team..A team to make this city right. I wish us to succeed where all the so-called great leaders of this city failed."

Penguin Jr. arked an eyebrow at this, skeptical but not uninterested. He was about to speak, but Harley interrupted him by raising her hand, enthusiastically waving it like a child.

"Ouh ! Ouh ! I got a question ! How do you propose we do that, boss ?!"

Arthur had thought of that and could only reply with one word.

"Fear. We're going to make them submit to fear. All those pompous bastards who looked down on us, mocked us and abused their power..We're going to crawl under their skin and scare them into submission. They will beg us for mercy. Fear is the remedy to our sick city. But, not a chaotic sort of fear that this city has suffered from for so long, but calculated, targeted, efficient.."

The future associates looked at each other with surprised glances and even incomprehension, but Jonathan was the first to understand.

"You intend to to use my serum to manipulate the rich of this city and need our help to get access and put your plan into motion.."

Arthur grinned widely at the young man's quick wit and mind.

"Bingo. Thank you. I knew you would understand, M. Crane.."

"And what would you give us in exchange ?"

Penguin Jr. suddenly exclaimed, not interested in healing this city that had made him suffer so much. 'Ah. Here it was. The reward..', Arthur thought and replied with a knowing smile.

"I'll give you posterity. I'll make the new Joker disappear. I'll make you a mayor. I'll make you all the kings and queens of Gotham. I'll give you all of that. And all I'm asking in return ? It's your trust."

They all seemed to ponder on his words until Jonathan's voice rised again.

"Pretty promises. But, why would you do that ?"

Joker seemed almost sad for a moment, weighing his words carefully as he answered as clearly and truthfully as possible.

"I'm tired of Gotham being the fool of the party. I'm tired of being looked down upon and the poor people of this city being walked on by the rich as if we were cockroaches on the pavement...I want to open the eyes of the citizens and for that ? I need fear and I need power."

Jonathan stayed silent, examining the man who so many admired. He was relatable, but also so different from the rest of the criminals in this city, it made him stand out on Jonathan's eyes. He was only a small lad when Arthur was first shown on the news and he remembered feeling fear and a kind of unhealthy fascination. He was the first Joker. The original. The one and only prince of crime. But, having the man standing in front of him was a whole other story. Being the clown face hid a depth he didn't expect to find..He could see himself following this man. This man that had nothing and some could describe as desperate, but Jonathan knew he wasn't. He would get to his goal and Jonathan knew that walking away now would be his greatest mistake. He nodded.

"I am in."

Arthur smiled widely at the confirmation, followed by Cruella.

"Me too. If it will get Joker out of my business ? I'm ready to do what it takes. But, what will be my part in all this ?"

Arthur turned towards her before answering her, already prepared to answer all of his associates' questions.

"You'll be our publicity and, as you have the monopoly upon Gotham market, you'll be very useful for the display and to spread our products..Also, you'll be our distraction. Every great plan needs a great distraction."

Cruella smiled before winking at Arthur.

"I know, darling. I'm the best distraction there is !"

Harley felt great difficulty in restraining her jealousy, but knew that would mean angering Arthur. And she absolutely didn't want that.

Arthur then turned towards Jonathan again.

"You. I will need your intellect and for you to make as much fear serum as possible."

Jonathan's eyes widened slightly in surprise, he had never had someone acknowledge his intellect. It was always all about his serum and getting the formula, making it was something any great scientist could achieve easily. So...why did he need him ?

"You're not asking for the formula ? You won't just torture me for it ?"

It was Arthur's turn to be surprised à he let out a small laugh and shook his head.

"And why would I do that ? No. I'm not here to steal your project, M. Crane. I respect you too much to insult you by stealing your hard work. I ask you to be my partner, not my underling."

Jonathan could feel the truth behind the man's words and couldn't help but feel his respect for the man grow.

"I’ll see what I can do."

He replied truthfully. It had been a long time after all..

"That's all I'm asking for."

Arthur said before moving on to the last associate he needed to convince and who he still had to get to come on bord.

"And you ? You will be a very important part of the plan..You will make sure to reassure the population and be a hero in their eyes. And by doing that ? I promise you'll become mayor of this city. Be what nobody ever suspected you to be. Be a hero."

Penguin scoffed before eyeing himself up and down significantly.

"Do I look like a hero to you ?"

Arthur mimicked him and looked at himself up and down then brought his eyes back on him with a small smirk.

"Do we all look like heroes ? We are Gotham citizens. And in Gotham ? There are no heroes..Doesn't mean we can't try to make things better, right ?"

Penguin stayed silent before finally sighing in defeat and raising his hand for Arthur to shake.

"Fine...Let's be heroes."

Arthur smiled before shaking his hand and then gave a last circular glance around the room, feeling deep down that he had chosen the right ones. They were nobodies..But, they would soon be so much more.

"It's time for a new age. We are nobodies. Let's show them what a couple of nobodies like us can do. They won't know what hit them."

The five associates smiled at each other before Harley raised her hand, frenetically waving it in the air.

"Ooh ! Question ! Question !"

Arthur smiled at her childish antic again before nodding in teacher-worthy patience.

"Yes, Harley ?"

"How are we gonna trap pudd..I mean, the other Joker ?!"

Arthur smiled knowingly before leaning forward to answer enigmatically.

"How much do you like fireworks, miss Quinn ?"

A few hours later :

"We've had reports of crimes in town ! For some reason, idiots found it funny to light up fireworks !"

"Where ?!"

You shouted, already grabbing your coat and rushing to the exit.

"Everywhere ! It's chaos out there !"

One of the policemen answered on his way out, but just as you were about to follow commissioner Gordon in his police car, he shook his head and said.

"No. No way. I'm not letting a rookie get on the field on her first day ! You get out of my car and stay in the police station."

"But...", you tried to protest. However, commissioner Gordon was categorical as he shouted again.

"Get out of the car ! I already got my old partner killed ! I ain't losing another one the day I got her ! It's an order ! Get out ! Now !"

You had no choice and slammed the door of the car before getting back in the police station, angry and in complete disbelief at commissioner Gordon's attitude. You weren't a child ! You were a policewoman !

You slumped into a chair and closed your eyes. It wasn't how you imagined your first day to be..After an hour passed, you sighed heavily, bored out of your mind..You didn’t think your first day would end up being so disappointing..However, you suddenly heard the front door of the police station open and here came..Oh no..You hid under the table instinctively, the sight of greenish hair being enough to make your heart skip a bit. He luckily didn’t see you, but it wasn’t the case of the other agent who was on guard duty with you..

"Hey ! Freeze !"

He pointed his gun at Joker, but didn’t have the time to shoot as Harley used her big hammer on him, knocking him out cold. You crawled to another desk to have a better view and took out your phone to dial commissioner Gordon’s number with shaky fingers. Finally, it rang and you waited until the both of them were out of sight to speak, your breathing becoming uneven as fear took over you..You wanted action, just not so soon ! You closed your eyes and begged for Gordon to pick up.

"Commissioner Gordon here ?!"

You let a soft sigh of relief before getting out of your hiding place to get out of the station, not ready to face the two psychos head first without any backup..As soon as you were put, you breathed deeply the fresh night air, filling your lungs and which abled you to held back your fear. You were about to tell Gordon about the situation when another voice made itself heard behind you.

"I knew it..Number one rule in the cop book. Always leave two officers behind."

You gulped loudly as you perfectly knew who that voice belonged to. You turned around and saw him standing there, on the front steps of the police station with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. You were unable to form words as your mouth opened and closed..This was a nightmare.

"You know that I'm not blind, right officer ? That police officer suit isn't really making you any favors. You really stand out, and that's coming from a clown."

He laughed and you tried not to let panic overtake you. You took a couple of steps behind and knew that you were probably going to die..might as well do your job.

"Comissioner Gordon. He's here. He's right in front of me."

"Who ?! Be specific, Y/N !"

You heard commissioner Gordon shout in the speaker with faint sounds of fireworks slightly covering his voice.

"...The Joker."

You answered after a few seconds and Gordon stayed silent for a moment, realisation hitting him suddenly as he yelled.

"RUN ! YOU HEAR ME ?! RUN !"

Arthur almost seemed amused by the loud and panicked voice of your senior, tilting his head to the side as he knew exactly who you had on the other side of the line.

"Hello there, officer Gordon."

You lowered your phone and hesitated if you should run or stay ? You then remembered you had a gun on you, with no bullets since they didn't give them on your first day, but that Joker didn't know, or at least you hoped he didn't ? You decided to risk it and raised your gun instead, shaking as you realised..you really had no bullets. You were defenceless, but decided to bluff..Maybe, would he buy it ? However, Joker smiled widely, almost as if he knew, before taking a long puff of his cigarette, not worried at all. You didn’t understand why until you felt a gun pointed at the back of your head.

"Drop the gun. Now."

You had forgotten about Harley. You closed your eyes and threw the gun away before raising both of your hands in the air. Arthur then walked down the stairs and stopped just in front of you with a sly smile.

"Now..How about you stick with us for a little while ? I promise we won't hurt you..We just need you to show us to the roof ?"

You didn't understand why they would want to get access to the roof ? But, you had no other option and sighed before nodding and following them back inside. You didn't know how to access the roof, as it was your first time around, but Arthur seemed to know his way as he led you up the stairs and to the door where you needed a special police card to get access. You sighed before looking at your brand new card and closed your eyes, sending a silent apology to commissioner Gordon as you used it to open the door. Arthur smiled as he walked forward, Harley dragging you behind them as Arthur looked around for something in particular, a large white cloth was covering something and Arthur smiled victoriously before pulling the white cloth off the mysterious thing and your eyes widened as you recognized the bat symbol. What ? What did he want with it ?

"Harley ? Would you please be a dear and do us the honors ?"

Harley licked her lips and giggled excitedly before hopping to the bat signal and lighting it up.

"Let's see when the bat will come in to save you.."

It didn't take long before the familiar whoosh of a cape made itself heard and Batman appeared. He tried to get closer, but Joker held a gun to your forehead and moved his index left and right.

"No no no..One more step and the poor girl gets it."

Batman stopped dead in his tracks and closed his hands into fists before asking in his familiar low baritone voice.

"What do you want ?"

Arthur smiled before taking a couple of steps forwards, his finger still on the trigger and shrugged in a nonchalant manner.

"Just wanted to test a little theory of mine..I'm taking the woman. And if you want to see her again ? You'll be at the docks tomorrow morning.."

Batman looked at you and you didn't want to beg, but you weren't willing to die and looked at him with tearful eyes..It wasn't the time to play courageous and Batman you didn't know if Batman would comply. You were a complete stranger after all and Joker was his arch nemesis. However, you were surprised to see Batman actually agree.

"Fine. Don't hurt her."

Arthur nodded in agreement before Batman suddenly vanished and Arthur turned towards you with a wide grin.

"Guess what, agent ? Looks like you're coming with us."

Your fear turned into ice in your stomach as you knew there was a high risk you might die in the following days. Commissioner Gordon was your only chance and you were surprised that he hadn't arrived. However, Joker must have read your thoughts as he smiled again.

"Gordon isn't coming. He's stuck in the traffic generated by the fireworks my associates lit up everywhere..Now, come on. Let's get going."

He grabbed your arm and dragged you downstairs, quickly getting in Harley's car and you drove away. You really hopped you would see Gordon or any police car on your way, but even if you did, the glass was tinted and and you knew they wouldn't hear your screams. You were trapped.

"I'm really sorry for the inconvenience. Yiu seem to be a good cop, but I can't let you see our home for now.", Arthur said before Harley got out a black bag from her purse.

They put a bag over your head and then, it was only darkness.

When you arrived, Arthur finally set your head free and you blinked frenetically, trying to get used to the blinding light and then, you saw Arthur sitting on a chair in front of you. You could easily kick him, but it wouldn't help anybody, so you decided it was best to stay still for now. He smiled appreciatively, knowing by the fire in your eyes that it was taking all of your willpower not to resist and act on impulse. You then noticed the bag at his feet and frowned

What was in it ? Was it a gun ? Did he change his mind ? Was he going to kill you ?! You felt your back beaded with cold sweat and fear was turning you into a silent statue instead of the begging mess you were inside..Arthur looked at where you eyes had landed and smiled..Was he...WAS THE BASTARD AMUSED ?! You gritted your teeth and were about to say something when he got his hand into the bag and got out..fries ? You frowned deeply in incomprehension before he turned the bag around and you could the familiar yellow M logo and you sighed in relief, not caring if he was still in the room.

"Calm down. As I've said before, I do not intend to kill you."

You were still suspicious about that, but decided not to reply, not to give him the satisfaction. But, the man was determined to make you talk as he showed you the contents of the bag.

"I did no know what you'd prefer so..I took a bit of everything. Are you a vegetarian or..?"

Why was he..?

"Why are you doing this ?"

The question stilled him for a few seconds before he finally cracked a smile.

"And she talks. I'm glad. I thought I would be doing a one person conversation tonight.", he joked.

He was evading your question and you didn't answer, still waiting for him to explain what drove him to act like this..He sounded like a good guy, and yet..

He sighed heavily.

"I'm just..so tired, miss Y/N. I'm exhausted and I'm afraid I won't be able to protect Gotham anymore..I thought I had found a good replacement with the other Joker. Jack. But, I was wrong and Gotham paid the price. My purpose was to tell everyone of the pain we share, of the common pain of being stepped on by the powerful and for Gotham's children to rise..but, since my mistake, Gotham has come back to its old ways and only more pain and suffering followed. I'm trying to open their eyes again."

He got out a pack of cigarettes and then looked at you.

"Do you mind ?"

You shook your head and Joker smiled thankfully at you before lighting it up and taking a puff.

"Anyway, tomorrow you will be free..I just need you to get the Batman to come and get the Joker to come as well..Harley already warned him she knew where the Batman would be tomorrow and I intend to make everyone see the truth.."

Your arched an eyebrow at him.

"The truth ?"

He took another puff of his cigarette before addressing you a mysterious smile.

"My my..Aren't we curious ? Unfortunately..It would spoil the surprise, and we can't have that. Now, for the real important question..Fries, burger or both ? I do enjoy ice-cream first, but that's a me thing so.."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh and shook your head in disbelief. That man could easily kill you here and now, but he he still managed to get a laugh out of you. He smiled as well and showed you the contents again, making you choose by pointing at the food you wanted. He then got one hand out of your restrains for you to eat.

"I'm not a savage..", was the only reason he gave you before sitting back down, watching you eat. When you finished, he binded your hands behind your back once more before crouching in front of you and opened his mouth to say something, reconsidered, and finally settled for an apology.

"I am truly sorry for what we have to do. I have nothing against the police, only against the corrupted ones. I intend to get rid of the vermin, to get proper justice.."

"Gotham's or yours ?"

Arthur looked up at you before smiling almost sadly.

"Aren't they the same ? Aren't I another victim of this corrupted society ?"

You stayed silent, pondering on his words before he stood up again and stepped out.

"Get some rest..You'll need it."

And with that, he shut the door.

The next day :

You were woken up by the soft tremor of a moving car and opened your eyes to find yourself at the back of Harley's car and she was the first to notice you were awake.

"Good morning, sleepy head ! Donuts ?!"

She shoved the box of goods under your nose and it took her a moment to realize that you were still tied up. She then took a random one and shoved it in your mouth with a wide grin.

"Here ! They're amazing !"

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you couldn't deny that they were actually pretty good. Arthur was driving and stopped in front of the docks. He then turned towards you and smiled reassuringly at you. He then turned towards Harley.

"We're here. Jack is already here by the looks of it.."

Harley turned towards the very flashy green car of her old Puddin' and her smile faltered for a second. She had called him yesterday saying she had the Batman and she perfectly knew that Jack could very well be killed because of it. Was she ready to say goodbye ? However, Arthur put her hand on her thigh and smiled encouragingly at her.

"You can do this..Jack didn't deserve you and he still doesn't. His one and only love is Batman. Do not make the mistake twice.."

Harley wanted to cry, she knew he was right, but it still hurt to be reminded she would never be enough..that Batman would always be first with Jack. She took a big breath before nodding.

"Let's go."

Arthur nodded back before they both got out of the car. Arthur took you out of the car and at this point, you didn't even try to resist. Another clown and his goonies were waiting for you near the water and the one you presumed was called Jack didn't even question your presence beside her before walking towards Harley with a scowl.

"Where's Batman ? You said you had him !"

Harley cowered slightly at her old lover's voice before Arthur stepped into the light, ready to intervene. But, Jack noticed him quickly and gritted his teeth before getting out his gun and pointing it at Harley.

"You dirty traitor ! You betrayed me !"

Harley's eyes widened as he pointed the gun at her. She still held onto that tiny piece of hope that resided inside her that Jack at least cared for her.

"Would you really shoot me..Puddin’ ?", she asked with tearful eyes and even you felt bad for the woman.

Jack hesitated. But, Arthur reappeared in his field of vision behind Harley and he finally took his decision. He finally smiled in fake apology at Harley and shrugged.

"Sorry, honey. Business is business."

He then shot mercilessly, but Arthur got her out of the way and shot Jack’s hand. Jack groaned before covering his wound with his other hand and hissed in pain. Just at that moment, someone started shooting Jack's handmen and soon enough, Jack was alone. He cursed under his breath and tried to reach for his gun, but Arthur was faster and grabbed it first before standing up above Jack and stomped on his injured hand. Jack let out a loud involuntary cackle at the shock and pain before Arthur turned towards Harley, checking if she was okay, only to be met with quite a sight. You had protected her..Your arms held her closely to you and if looks could kill, Jack would be long gone. You were still a policewoman, a protector of the law and you wouldn't let anyone die if you could help it. He then noticed something else..you had taken the bullet. Fortunately enough, you were still wearing your bulletproof vest or you would have not survived. Arthur's jaw twitched in anger at the thought and he pushed his heel deeper into Jack's injury. He then saw in Harley’s gaze what he wanted to see..Pain and sorrow. She was finally realising the truth. That puddin’ of hers had never cared about her and it would finally get Arthur her undying fidelity. Harley held her hammer closer to her chest and pain turned into rage as she realized you had protected her, a total stranger, while her Puddin' had tried to kill her. She stood up and raised her hammer high in the air and Arthur got out of her way just as she mercilessly dropped it on Jack's leg. The clown screamed in pain before Harley kicked him in the stomach. She was about to actually kill him, but Arthur stopped her.

"Not yet, dear. We still have to wait for our other guest.."

Harley didn't seem happy, but still obeyed and took a step back, still glaring daggers at Jack. Arthur then took Jack by the collar to make him stand up again, dusting his jacket mockingly.

"I'm so sorry..Where are my manners ? It was so easy for me to take over..I still owe you for that, don't I ? See, Jack ? I'm a symbol..while you ? You're quite the definition of a joke. So, here's my farewell gift for you..Look at the city one last time. This city you abandoned..For what ? A bat ? Do you remember the promise we made a while back ? Cure this city ?"

He turned him around and Jack looked past his dizziness and exhaustion to stare at the city ahead..He remembered that promises now.

"I remember.."

Jack looked back at the past, the first day they had met and the first fight he had with Batman. It was thrilling. Intoxicating. He had made a promise to Arthur..but, he had never succeeded in fulfilling his promise. Gotham was just far too broken..

"I tried..but, I realized after trying so much that, no matter how much I tried, they always won, Arthur..They were never going to change. Gotham doesn't want your change.."

Arthur smiled..Here it was. His old student. The young and intelligent man who knew how to use his brain. But, it was too late..

"I know that. Gotham needed a leader to lead them to this change, to make them see the change they needed so desperately. I genuinely thought it would be you, Jack. I truly liked you, but it was too much for one man and for that, I apologize."

Jack closed his eyes and let out a small sad laugh.

"I thought you were done apologizing ?"

Arthur smiled back.

"I thought so too.."

The two men fell into silence until Jonathan's voice rang into Arthur's ear.

"Arthur ! He’s here. Batman is here."

Scarecrow thought this whole plan was madness and there was no way Batman would come..But, his eyes widened as he saw the familiar caped superhero fly above them.

"He's here.."

He uttered almost in disbelief. Arthur was right..He had answered the call. Batman fell right into their trap.

"Arthur ! He’s here ", he announced in the walkie-talkie and Arthur smiled. At last..The bat would be useful. He then turned towards Jack with a saddened expression.

"I’m feeling sorry for you, Jack..Unfortunately, you made the wrong choices. But, I should actually thank you ? After all…Nothing would have been possible without you. I'll make this city great..and you won't be part of it."

Jack lowered his gaze to look at the water and huffed a laugh.

"Funny..I always thought I should have gotten rid of you this way..Threw you overboard and get over it. But, a part of me still looked up to you. I should've just gone with my guts and kill you myself."

Arthur smiled wistfully at his old student and nodded in agreement.

"You should have.."

He then raised his hand and the sound of a whistle was heard a few meters away, followed by the sounds of paws hitting the floor and dogs' barks. The time Jack understood, it was already too late. A pack of dogs ran to him and pushed him. He fell into the dark waters.

Arthur waited a few seconds before turning towards Batman who had just arrived and giggled as he saw how the great Batman was looking at him and then, Arthur pointed his gun at you.

"I'll offer you a choice, Batman. Either you go save the drowning idiot and I shoot the woman, or you save her and let the other one drown ?"

Batman's nostrils flared in pure hatred and even though his first instinct was to beat him to a pulp, he knew he had no time. He had to make a choice. He looked at you, then at the water before rushing forward, not sparing you a second glance as you screamed for help. Batman knew his role was to save innocents, but he couldn't let Jack die, not after it was his fault he became what he was..

Arthur smiled and hoped they would both drown, leaving the both of them die from their forbidden and very dark love..love for violence and this pitiful rivalry. Arthur never was fond of the bat and to be honest ? Never saw him as a hero. A hero saves. A hero protects. Where was Batman when people starved on the streets and had no money to pay their rent ? The great Batman was beating them up for trying to survive by stealing and committing crime. Self-righteous bastards were the worst. However, he knew they wouldn't die. Joker Jr. would be locked up somewhere and would stop being a problem for anyone once his so-called friends would see him struggle. He would be alone.

Arthur laughed.

It was time for a new era. It was time for Gotham to know the true face of their beloved bat..Tomorrow morning, everyone would know how Batman decided to save Joker Jr. more than stop him and Harley or saving you..Tomorrow, they'd know where his true loyalty lies..He turned towards you and your shocked expression before crouching in front of you and putting on an expression of pity and gently stroked your cheek.

"Poor dear..abandoned by the one you called hero."

You closed your eyes and felt a few tears run down your cheeks until you heard a click and your hands were suddenly free. You opened your eyes to see Arthur standing above you and looking at the exit.

"Come on..Get out of here, officer. You served your purpose.."

You didn't need to be told twice as you sprang to your feet and started running, not looking back. You didn't know what was worse ? That the clown had almost killed you or that Batman would have actually let him ? You indulged in the urge to give the clown one last glance and your eyes widened as you saw him smiling and waving you goodbye. He then left and you kept running. The look he gave you would stay in your mind forever. The Joker was back.

The moment you barged in the precinct, commissioner Gordon's jaw fell open and he didn't even wait for an explanation before pulling you into a hug..He didn't know you that well, but he had been so worried and felt guilty about leaving you behind that he threw all conventions aside.

"I'm sorry. I'm never leaving you behind, partner.."

You felt all the tension and stress of the past few days leak through your eyes as you held onto him tighter. The rest of the policeman and policewoman patting your shoulders, knowing that whatever you had gone through had surely been terrifying and terrible. However, a few seconds later, Gordon seemed to remember himself and took a few steps backwards.

"W..What happened ?"

You explained everything to him and at the end, he was confused and shook his head in disbelief.

"Wait..He let you go ? Why ? And what happened to Batman and our Joker ?"

You shrugged. You had truly no idea..But, then, someone called Gordon.

"Hey, commissioner ! You should come see this.."

You and Gordon went to the TV room of the precinct and saw written in bold letters.

BATMAN, THE SAVIOR OF CRIMINALS

It was a video of Batman plunging after Joker while leaving you behind and even though you knew Batman's choice had been unexpected, Joker was hurt and Batman knew he would die first and certainly had a good reason for going after him. It was unfair to condemn him for it.

"It's been on all the TV channels and seems like someone is trying to make Batman the bad guy.."

You then saw the both of them get out of the water and Batman took off, certainly to get Joker to Arkham or run after Arthur and Harley, even though you perfectly knew they were far gone already..You sighed in relief.

You would get Arthur eventually, you were sure of it. But, you wouldn't let the Batman get in your way. Arthur Fleck would be yours, and next time ? You would be prepared..

[juuls]

This was a comment left on chapter 11 of my fem!Tony Stuckony time travel/soulmate fic, Hanging From a Cross of Iron, and I just wanted to put a couple things out there.

First of all, I’m not mad. We’ll make that clear. I’ve received variations of this comment before and it’s rather on the mark. But sometimes both sides can be correct in how they interpret a piece of fiction, and I wanted to show that.

So… yeah. This is something I get every so often on this fic, especially around this chapter (10-12ish) and I just… really wanted to post my reply to it, if for nothing other than explaining the way my brain works and WHY I hate Captain America: Civil War so much for ruining so many good things in fandom.

I’m not putting this out there for sympathy or agreement or to start a fight or stupid shit. It’s more like a… “I’m tired of explaining myself, let me post something I feel is a semi-eloquent response to someone who was at least mostly respectful and got some things right, who I know does represent a fair portion of people who may be interested in reading this fic,” which I could then just point/link to the next time I wake up to things making me sad in my inbox on top of me being sad and feeling guilty at not having written for a while.

Stupid covid. Stupid life being dumb and depressing and draining energy and happiness from many. Just you wait. I’ll be back soon with Codega and this fic, Cross.

But here. This is my reply to the above comment:

So I don’t normally reply to critique such as this because this IS fanfiction, but you are at least part right: it IS supposed to be unfair.

This is me working out my issues with Civil War, because boy that sure as fuck pissed me off. I love Stuckony, but after CACW it was really hard to reconcile that love anymore. So this was my way to do that, and I 100% wanted to bring in the unfairness, the distrust, the favouritism, the… meanness that I saw and felt after that.

It’s also a way for me to work through my issues at the injustices I suffered at the hands of my ex-husband—I started writing this shortly after packing my bags and leaving.

I wanted a slow, somewhat realistic, non-fairytale path to even partial redemption, shared pain and circumstances and experiences, and to show that things CAN work out as long as certain lines are not crossed. I skirt the line sometimes, definitely on purpose, but that’s for ME.

I wanted to turn the tables: Steve (and Bucky) were out of their time and comfort zone in the future—Toni, in turn, needed to be out of her time and comfort zone in the past.

Plus, can you imagine a soulmate world where you’ve had a partner and you think “this is it”? Then bam! Suddenly someone’s suddenly thrust into your life.

And I wanted to play on every single issue Toni would have experienced with her family, friends, “friends”, enemies, Obie, her company, the world, etc., post-IM2.

None of them have had an easy go of it and war is goddamn hell. They ALL have PTSD. (But also, lol, the Howlies start laying into Stucky about what you’re getting mad about here too, so I’m way ahead of you!)

From the beginning, this was as much a psychological setting as a romantic one: way more so in the beginning. But it slowly crawls its way out of the murk. I wanted a soulmate story where it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. I wanted a story where they had to fight for it… or where they had a choice, shitty as it may be (they’ll NEVER choose not to have Toni, that was never going to happen). I wanted something… realistic, even amidst super soldiers, super tech, an almost unbelievable war, and soulmates existing.

I wanted it to be a fight. I wanted rejection… then them, ALL of them, to choose each other despite that, despite their past, and despite fate.

That is my goal with this fic. And since I take my own sweet time, that’s really not readily apparent so soon in this fic, even at chapter 11.

The love will be there. The unconditional love, the equal triadic love. Not just Stucky plus Toni. Because believe me, Stucky is probably one of my least favourite ships that include some of my favourite characters. Sounds ridiculous since I write them here, but as a historian I wanted to take that, take some realism, with a dash of ridiculous and hurt and pain and anger, and see what I could do with that.

The entire reason this story exists is because of a scene idea I had that doesn’t come about until the future in the 20s chapters. Leaning on each other and trusting each other because one of them was lost. Well, technically, that happens twice.

But the point is: this is a long as fuck story towards a love they have to (and WANT to, eventually) fight tor.

This fic is for me. It’s for people like me. It’s for people who don’t want an easy love story. It’s absolutely okay that you don’t like it! There are SO many fics that I dislike for a variety of reasons, and I simply close it, mark it as Did Not Finish, and don’t return. I recognize not every fic is for me.

This one’s for me. I may have sort of stalled out where I’m at in the 20s chapters, but it’s left at a pretty good place, and I’m looking forward to this dumb pandemic so I can get back to forging this love between these three idiots, as well as pick up an old Star Wars story I left 4+ years ago due to the abuse at the hands of my ex. But I’m ready to return to it now. Well, after the world calms down a little.

It’s okay if you’re done with this story—that is 100% your choice and I will never begrudge you that. I’m glad you gave it a try though! If you’re interested, you could skip ahead and see how the dynamics have changed, or I could give you clips and examples too.

My one wish (though I understand it completely) is that you had not done this on Anon. For a few reasons:

1, I would never hold this opinion against you, especially because you got tons of it right! Go you!

2, I’d love to understand you better and discuss this with you. No recriminations whatsoever.

3, But I do wonder who of those who have read my other writings left me this message. It makes me a little sad, and I will wonder which of the people I talk to have this negative opinion of me now, but that’s also my own past issues rearing their ugly heads. You have every right to remain on Anon, though it’s not so nice when you wake from a nice dream and discover anon ‘dislike’ in your inbox on a work you slaved away on, and that the dislike is specifically about the things you wrote about deliberately, hah. Sorta funny, actually, so I’ll let that one go. xD

Thank you, though, even if I disliked reading this words: it helps me to look at my own work critically and to better understand how to frame and write things going forward.

Not every fic is for everyone, and that’s okay. I’ve encountered mine, you’ve encountered yours, but I think we’ve both learned from this interaction.

Whoever you may be, even if you divulge your handle to me, my respect for you wouldn’t diminish. It’s good to have healthy discussions and to look critically upon your own work—even if I am a sensitive bean and it hurts a little, I’m fine. :P

I think the lesson to be learned here is: fuck everything after CACW!!!! Grrrrr xD

Take care,

Juuls

P.S. I may post parts of this on my Tumblr because I do occasionally encounter similar complaints about this story, and I think maybe this is the most coherent and respectful enough comment-reply response I’ve had on this topic. Thank you.

P.P.S. Happy to talk privately too!

P.P.P.S. And the offer still stands for some lovely clips from future chapters, especially if you’re not considering continuing reading this story anymore; it’ll at least show what I’m talking about and what I’ve been working tirelessly towards. It’s hard—fucking hard—work to get past CACW and still like these characters together (my fic Paper Boats is probably one of my bigger testaments to that, oof) and I admit it’s still really really hard and I struggle with it. Covid isn’t the only reason I’ve sort of stalled out on that. But that’s more because I’m like “now what?” than not seeing any love between these three.

It’s a long journey. I knew it was going to be. But I like a challenge. :)

Take care, be well, stay safe, to you and all of yours.

And may you find many fics you love!

[josefavomjaaga]

Mier's letters from Naples, mid-March 1815

Things are starting to fall apart.

Mier to the Duke di Gallo (Copy) Naples 12 March 1815 (morning).

The departure of His Majesty the King, announced as very near, for Ancona, the movement almost general of Neapolitan troops from the interior towards the frontiers of the Kingdom, the order given to the Royal Guard to be ready to march, and many other circumstances and measures taken, prove only too well that His Neapolitan Majesty has projects in view which it is important for Austria, friendly power of the King, to clear up, principally in the present circumstances.

The undersigned Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of His Majesty the Emperor of Austria to the Court of Naples therefore has the honour of addressing His Excellency the Duke of Gallo, Minister of Foreign Relations, in order to obtain from His Excellency prompt and categorial clarifications and answers in this respect, so that they can be brought to the attention of his Court as soon as possible.

In requesting His Excellency to send him His reply today to be sent by a courier which he is sending tonight to Rome, he has the honour to renew to Him on this occasion etc.

(Signed) Mier. To His Excellency the Duke of Gallo etc.

That sounds a lot like a diplomatic ultimatum. And I can't help but be reminded of the letter Eugène wrote to Murat the year before ("So ... you with us or against us, buddy?")

Mier to Metternich. Postscript

Naples, March 12, 1815, evening.

My Prince!

1) The greater part of the garrison of Naples set out this morning. The few troops which still remained will start tomorrow. Veterans and invalids have occupied all the posts. The officer carrying my present expedition will be able to verify in his journey the number of those who have taken the road to Rome, and will report to Marl Bellegarde; all the rest of the garrison and the troops of the surroundings will have marched towards Ancona. The field crews, the King's treasury, and many people, both civil and military, attached to his person, are leaving tomorrow. Everything proves that the King has made up his mind and that He is only waiting for the first news of Napoleon's enterprise to act. I do not believe that He has the project to march into France. He will try to raise Italy and take possession of it; it will be necessary therefore that He fights with us. Although one wants to make believe that these steps are concerted with Austria, consternation is general here, people distrust the King's head and foresee misfortunes.

2) This morning there was a Circle at Court; several Englishmen attended to take leave of the King. He gave them a long speech on the recent event that occupies all minds. He said that he had news of the Emperor from Grasse; that everywhere he was received with enthusiasm and that there was no doubt that he would succeed in his enterprise; that he could not but ardently desire it, the Bourbons having declared themselves openly his enemies in spite of all the steps and advances he had made to render himself sympathetic; any change of dynasty in France could only be advantageous to his interests; that it would be quite indifferent to Him whether it were Napoleon or some other French general who occupied the throne of France, provided it were not the Bourbons: "I am their enemy, as they are mine". He said that he marched his troops towards the frontiers to be more in touch with events; that moreover his policy remained invariably attached to that of Austria; ... and much other drivel which relates to his military career and his elevation to the throne of Naples.

3) The Princess of Wales left this morning for Rome, from where she intends to go to Civitavecchia and embark for Genoa on the English frigate which had come to Naples to fetch her. She wanted to follow the King to Ancona, but yesterday morning he had his Grand Equerry tell her that the political situation prevented him from receiving her in Ancona. It is said that she was furious and decided to go to Genoa.

4) As the Duke of Gallo has not yet sent me an answer to my note of this morning, and seeing the urgent need for Your Highness, and Mar Bellegarde to whom I am writing at the same time, to be informed of what is being prepared here, I have decided to send my mail to Rome without waiting for this answer, which I will send to Your Highness as soon as I have received it.

5) My position here is becoming very embarrassing and I beg Your Highness not to forget me and to give me His orders as soon as possible.

6) I have the honour of sending herewith to Your Highness the two proclamations of Napoleon to his army in France. I have the honour etc.

Mier.

The proclamations are not cited but according to the author, vary only in details from those in Napoleon's correspondence. Mier actually even received Gallo's reply before sending off this letter to Metternich.

Gallo to Mier

Naples, this 14th of March 1815.

My Lord Count! Having had the honor to submit to the King the note dated the day before yesterday which you did me the honor to address to me: S. M. could not read without surprise that you show concern about the march of His troops towards the frontier when it is known that France gathers considerable forces in Grenoble and Dijon with hostile aims against the King, as the Cabinet of Vienna itself is convinced.

In addition, the extraordinary and unexpected events which are taking place at this moment and which can set the continent ablaze again, are of such a nature as to require that the King be in a position to act for his own preservation, and as a result of the answers which His Majesty impatiently awaits to the overtures which His ministers have been ordered to make to the Cabinet of Vienna.

I have already had the honour of speaking to you about these overtures, as well as about the journey of His Majesty into the provinces and countries occupied by His troops, a journey which was decided upon and announced, as you know, My Lord Count, at the beginning of the winter.

I have no doubt, My Lord Count, that you will find in these clarifications very natural motives for justifying the movements in question.

Please accept the repeated expression of my highest consideration

The Duke of Gallo.

I'm not sure if di Gallo actually expected Mier to believe this.

Mier to Metternich, Postscript

Naples, March 16, 1815.

My Prince!

1) Today at three o'clock in the afternoon I received an invitation from Her Majesty the Queen to come and see her. I hastened to go and found Her Majesty very distressed. The King had just received a letter from Florence from General Pignatelli announcing the arrest of Madame Mère and Princess Pauline by the Commander of our troops at Villa Reggio [correct: Viareggio]; that they were being treated there as state criminals; that one of our officers was always keeping watch over them. The Queen told me that this news had enraged the King, and that she was very saddened by it. I tried to reassure her that there was surely some exaggeration in this report; that I supposed that these ladies having landed at Villa Reggio, the Governor of the Principality of Lucca would have thought it necessary, in the present circumstances, to oblige them to remain there until he received orders concerning them from the Marshal, the Count of Bellegarde; that everyone in his place would have done the same; that moreover I could assure her that these ladies would not be mistreated. The Queen informed me that the King had sent General Filangieri to Marshal Bellegarde to urge him not to oppose the continuation of the journey of these two Princesses to Naples, and that he had charged her to ask me in his name to support this request. I replied that I would do so willingly and that I would take advantage of General Filangieri's departure to write to General Bellegarde, as I did indeed as soon as I got home, and I had my letter delivered to the Queen's Cabinet. This evening Mr. de Gallo gave me the attached note, which I have the honour of bringing to the attention of Your Highness. I confined myself to acknowledging its receipt and to informing him that I had already written on this subject to Marshal Bellegarde at the invitation of Her Majesty the Queen. She must also have addressed His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke of Tuscany to ask him to take an interest in this matter and to try to arrange it in accordance with their request.

The note Mier refers to is not cited, but seems to have repeated Caroline's protest against the way Letizia and Pauline had been treated.

2) I found the Queen very distressed and dismayed at all the King's actions. She repeated to me what she had already told me in this respect, and assured me that she was doing everything in the world to prevent the King's departure, because she foresaw the consequences; that twice in succession he was about to get into a carriage to leave Naples and that she had succeeded in diverting him from it; that in order to persuade Him to give up this journey She had declared to Him that She did not wish to take charge of the regency, or to interfere in any way whatsoever with the affairs of the government in His absence; that if He left She would retire to Portici to live there in the greatest seclusion, and that She did not wish to receive any minister there, and much less to talk to him about business. This statement greatly embarrassed the King; for He knew that in His absence no one was in a position to conduct business but the Queen.

3) She told me how the notes which Your Highness had addressed on February 26th to Campochiaro and on the 25th to Talleyrand had had a bad effect on the King's mind; that in them there was no question of defending the King, but rather the Princes of the House of Austria; that the King believed himself to be on the eve of being sacrificed by our Court. He claims that we have been sparing Him and lulling Him into hope until the moment of a definitive arrangement with the other powers, and that we are now gathering troops in Italy to dictate to Him the rules. The Queen told me that She was far from admitting his ideas, having too high an opinion of the loyalty of the Emperor Francis, but that with the distrustful character of the King it could not be put out of His mind; that these ideas and the appearance of the Emperor Napoleon on the scene at the moment when He believes Himself sacrificed, have turned His head. "He believes that Napoleon's possible successes may help to keep Him on the throne of Naples. You know," she continued, "my opinion in this respect; I do more; I advise the King that if Austria replies that she is determined to oppose the possible successes of the Emperor Napoleon, He should join her, and follow in everything her system and policy. You see that my particular affections and the torment of seeing my family persecuted and covered with disgrace give way to the duties of a mother and those of a Queen of Naples. The King must hold on to a great power which protects Him; if He ventures to fly on His own wings He is lost. I once held to the system of France to the last extremity, because I was convinced that our interests required it. Events have had to change our policy; I have convinced myself that our salvation depends on our intimate union with Austria, and I hold to it with my heart and soul. The Emperor Francis has supported us until now as a loyal ally, and I am sure that He will not abandon us, if we deserve it. It is His duty, His own interests command it." I replied that this was an excellent response. I observed to Her that Austria could not be satisfied with the conduct of the King, mainly in what relates to our Italian provinces and to the affair of the Marches. She tried to defend Him and contradicted several statements I had made in support of my thesis. "But the King's last steps," I said to her, "can only increase our distrust and discontent?" "I fear," she replied, "that they will produce this effect; you know how much I have fought against them; but do not look for much malice in them; it is a spur-of-the-moment move, a foolishness which is repeated and which I hope will not be supported. The King is calmer, more reasonable, and I flatter myself that this state of affairs will continue." She could hardly speak, so weak was she. "You see", she said to me, "in what state my sorrows and the continual debates I have to support have reduced me, I often lose courage. I observed to Her that She would make a well-deserved reproach to herself all her life if at such a decisive moment She allowed herself to become depressed and discouraged, and did not use all her power to prevent false steps. May Your Highness please accept etc.

Mier.

Sort of typical: So the boys made a mess of things, and the one woman around is supposed to reproach herself for not having prevented it.

[rrickgrrimes8]

Normality is Death

Chapter Two ~ My Current Existence

masterlist

My eyes darted across the room as I woke, rather abruptly, in a cold searing sweat. The whole room was matted in darkness and the lantern I had lit the night before had not soon gone out. I sighed hopelessly and pushed myself out of bed sliding my combat boots on as I did. I looked outside to see the break of dawn just highlighting the horizon - it's early then I concluded. I stretched and yawned as I left my room locking the door right after - just to be safe. 

A lot has happened since Mom, Shane and Carl left me in the forest that day, too much has happened really. It's been around 3 months since I last saw my family and although I'd like to stay hopeful, I can't shake the feeling that they're dead or hurt in some way. But regardless I need to forget them. They left me. End off - period. My family abandoned me and I have to live knowing that and they have to live knowing that they played a hand in what they think was my death. I know it sounds cold, brutal even but I tried, I really did. I looked for them everywhere. I did everything a 14-year-old girl could possibly do in a world like this and I almost died countless times trying. So I gave up. I gave up not only to protect myself but because I realised that they probably wouldn't be looking for me. Hell, they think I'm dead right? 

Since everything happened in Atlanta the government had been completely radio silent. Lots of people think it's because there's no one left to send a signal. I, however, believe that that's extremely morbid and I guess I'm still holding out hope that someone will swoop in and save us all. It sounds very fairy tale I get that. It's just I'm a 14-year-old girl and I'm so sick of this world already. To the point where I couldn't even think about living any longer in a world like this. 

Sometime during the second month of what people like to call the turning, I met some people. They took me in gave me food, a shelter, some water. Basically, they gave me essential shit I was definitely lacking. Something they also did was train me. I'm not the best, but I do have pretty basic training in hand to hand combat, the basic workings of a gun (thanks to my father mostly) and I'm pretty good with melee weapons. They protected me is what I'm saying. They are my new family - a better family I could ever ask for. 

Our camp consists of 2 houses, housing 4 or 5 people in each. Mitchell, our leader, oversees any newcomers and basically keeps law and order around here. I met them after getting trapped in Atlanta and getting cornered by a dozen or so biters. Mitchell and a few others came in and massacred all of the living dead and took me in.

"Yoohoo! Jacey get your ass up it's your turn to hunt!" my friend, Addie, shouted rudely to me as I walked down the stairs. 

"Jeez Addie, I'm coming don't get ya panties in a twist," I teased nudging her shoulder once I got close enough. She had her usual skinny jeans and a grey tank top on but her hair was styled in a pair of small buns rather than her usually high pony. 

At my reply, her eyebrows furrowed and her usually bright and beautiful eyes closed before sighing. "Do not jeez me, woman, you've got shit to do you're slacking!" she exclaimed practically pushing me out the door and into the burning sun. I promptly lifted my hands to cover my eyes from the brightness. 

"Oh my lord, I know it's your thing to be this emo vampire goth girl who only stays in her room away from people, civilization and oh how could I forget the sun. but this is ridiculous it ain't even bright out." Addie joked forcing my arm down making me embrace the scorching heat. 

"You call this civilization? If so you've got a warped definition" I said picking up a knife and gun from the armoury. 

"Just go before I get even more sick of you, Jace," Addie laughed as I rolled my eyes, gave her the finger and strutted away sassily. "And you be careful kid Mitchell went out yesterday and there were more biters then usual. He thinks a herd might pass through so don't use your gun and you know don't die?" She said almost seriously which was incredibly out of style for her but nevertheless, I smiled and walked off into the woods. 

She was right about the number of biters. After only being out an hour I've seen 16 in our woods alone and I haven't even ventured out in the city yet, which is notoriously worse but I only really have to go to Atlanta if we're desperate. I had only picked up 2 squirrels so far I guessed that the movement of the herd could be driving some of the bigger animals away, which sucks because once I tell Mitchell he's just gonna want me to go into Atlanta to gather supplies. I mentally groaned and sat down against some tree, wishing things were different. 

"Looky what we have here gentlemen." A husky voice called out from the shadows. I instantly stood up and gathered my findings and unsheathed my machete. 

"What the hell do you want?" I stood my ground as I saw a group of maybe 5 guys come closer. 

"Ooh she's sassy," the guy who looked to be the leader teased, "always liked a girl with a little spunk in her as long as she learns to shut up when daddy needs some pleasing." I could've thrown up right then and there if not for the guard I needed to keep up. 

"You're fucking disgusting," I stated unforgivingly, earning some laughs from the group. 

"You really are quite confident aren't ya?" I stayed quiet as he stepped forward, "I can always give you a lesson or two about respect and I mean clothing's optional." 

"How about you shut the fuck up before you really piss me off," I said calmly still showing my anger. 

The man in front of me however got furious over my words and brought his hand down to my cheek. I fell to the ground at the impact, "I told you to learn some fucking respect little girl." 

"And I said to shut the fuck up you creepy bastard," I got my machete out and cut into the guy's leg not giving any warning before punching him in the face, sending him towards the ground, "But you know speaking about respect. How about you learn some fucking respect for me or you know all of my gender?" I more ordered then questioned while striking the guy in the face again. "And next time, asshole, watch your tone when you speak to a woman," I smiled sweetly at him before marching off into the opposite direction. 

"Oh and if I see anyone of you anywhere around here, I'll chop each and every single one of your dicks off."

I arrived back home later that night after hunting another squirrel and a rabbit on top of my earlier findings. 

"So whatcha get for us tonight babydoll?" Mitchell said after seeing me walk up. Mitchell was a 25-year-old now-former English teacher who somehow became our leader. He wasn't extraordinarily brave nor was he an elite strategist but he was a good mentor, who had people that trust him - those people including me. 

"Just some squirrel and a rabbit nothin' special." Mitchell nodded as I started to walk away, "Any trouble?" 

I span around to him before saying, "always." Mitchell gave me an unimpressed look before taking my hunt and walking away. 

"Why am I not surprised?" he laughs while passing most of our group towards the fire. "Anything serious?" I shook my head before sitting on the rough log placed next to the heat. 

"Jus' some jackasses who thought they could take me. Guess I taught them a lesson in respect." Once again Mitchell laughed and sat next to me. 

"I know I don't need to tell you this every time you go out but you've got to be careful, okay? Your safety is my top priority and I know you hate to hear it but you're only a kid. And kids can get hurt pretty easily especially in this sort of life and I'd hate to see that happen to you." Mitchell wrapped his arm around me in a brotherly sort of way as I nodded. I understand he just wanted to help regardless of how much I hate to be called a kid. 

"I'm smart Mitchy. I'm not just some dumb kid. Plus haven't you heard I'm kind of undefeatable. Nothin can kill me," I boasted standing up and heading away from the majority of our group and back to my room. Before I left I saw Mitchell smiling then going off to talk to someone else.

I entered my room lighting a candle straight away and then dropping my bag. As soon as I entered all I could smell was the stenched of sweat and gore. I honestly don't think I've ever gone this long without a shower and I miss it so goddamn much. I miss so many things. I miss deodorant, a warm bed, fast food, soda and not to mention my mom's famous spaghetti bolognese. Just because I wasn't a fan of the woman does not mean I cannot love the food because damn she could cook. The only thing she couldn’t master, however, was pancakes but that didn’t stop her from trying. I smiled slightly reminiscing of the family meals we would have whenever we got the chance. We would all sit around the table talking, eating and just enjoying being around each other. But now they're gone so that's not going to happen anytime soon for me.

"What are you doing, Grimes?" Addie asked pulling me out of my trance.

"Nothin'," I spoke shortly before lying down onto my bed. 

"Don't seem like nothing. Talk to me, love." She walked over and sat next to me taking her hand into mine. 

"M' okay," I reassured her before closing my eyes. I felt Addie shift closer to me still holding my hand causing me to smile. 

Addie was the only other teenager in this group so we bonded pretty quickly despite her being 2 years older, "You don't have to be okay, Jacey." I couldn't help but shudder at her words - the same words I heard from Shane the day it happened. 

"Don't say that, please." I hadn't even realised the quiver in my voice before Addie sat up, bringing me with her. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you," The brunette girl said to me. 

"It's not you i-it's jus'-" I couldn't finish my sentence before I started to sob. Memories of that night haunted me. I lost so much and so did everyone else but I couldn't understand how they were so okay with it. I lost my home, my dad, my family and my childhood all in one night. And I'm so sick of trying to be okay with that. "I just miss them so much." I finished while getting devoured by Addie's arms. I could hear her softly singing in my ear in order to calm me down and it soon did. I relaxed into her arms after a few minutes but neither of us made any indication that we were going to depart. 

"Who did you lose?" She asked gently. 

"Everyone," I could feel myself beginning to cry again but I pushed it away - I couldn't be weak any longer. 

"I'm sorry, Jacey. I hate seeing you like this. I wish I could take your pain away." 

I hummed shakily before looking up into her brown eyes, "Then do it." With that, she leaned in. Slowly I started to prepare myself to meet her lips but it never came. 

She pulled away from me and stood up, "We can't do this."

I sat up as well but remained seated on the bed, "Why?" She gave me no answer and just looked out of the window. "Addie, please, just tell me why not? For christ sakes, the world has ended. We've got nothing else to lose." 

"It's wrong," She said simply yet with so much emotion and left the room.

I felt the tears begin to return and I just let them fall.

"It's wrong."

That's all it took to break me -  2 words. 

"She's right."

[rammoram]

Kindaichi Yuutarou Analysis

Disclaimer: I am not a professional psychologist in any way. I simply find psychology and reading into characters very interesting. Please correct me if I say anything incorrect. 

This is also not an anti-Kageyama post. I'm simply trying to put Kindaichi in a new perspective in the most unbiased way I can. I'm only putting information I found from research into this post. Thank you. 

Kindaichi is undoubtedly my favorite character in Haikyuu. He's also one of-what I consider to be- the top most misunderstood characters. No matter the reason for it, a pretty significant chunk of the Haikyuu fandom seems to have a bias against him. And while I can't force anyone to change their opinion on his character, I'd like to try to describe some of his actions and reactions in another perspective. 

This is gonna be a pretty long post, so the rest will be under the cut~!

Things I'm going to talk about(in order):

Character Traits

Classical conditioning

Explanation/definition

How it's shown with Kindaichi

Examples, episodes & timestamps

Obstacles

Confirmation Bias

Overconfidence 

Examples, episodes

Overview

Basically a paragraph where I repeat everything I explained but with less explanations involved 

Character Traits

First, I want to list a few things about Kindaichi that we already know without doing a thorough character study. These are traits that are very obvious and can be hard to miss. 

What we already know about him: he's stubborn, emotional, kind of awkward, he can be oblivious, and he holds onto grudges. 

Of course, there are other traits he shows that could be easily identified. But these are just some of the more obvious ones. 

Some of these traits, specifically being stubborn, emotional and holding onto grudges, can actually help us understand his actions easier. 

Classical Conditioning

Definition: 

Classical Conditioning: Continuously pairing two stimuli( an unconditioned stimulus and a neutral stimulus) so that the neutral stimulus(which becomes the conditioned stimulus) gains a conditioned response. 

Explaining it in simpler terms: 

Classical conditioning is basically pairing two things together a lot so that they end up being associated with each other.

(This is definitely not the best definition or explanation. If you're still confused I would suggest looking up classical conditioning for more information)  

Defining responses and stimuli: 

Unconditioned stimulus: something that will naturally get a response. 

Unconditioned response: the response to an unconditioned stimulus. 

Neutral stimulus: a stimulus that doesn't get the same unconditioned response as the unconditioned stimulus. 

Conditioned stimulus: the neutral stimulus after being continuously paired with the unconditioned stimulus. The conditioned stimulus will get a conditioned response. 

Conditioned response: is the same response as the unconditioned response, but it is a response to the conditioned stimulus after continuous pairing. 

How it's shown with Kindaichi: 

Alright. To explain this, we have to look into what happened during middle school. 

As we all know, Kindaichi had a pretty hard time keeping up with Kageyama during middle school. When we first get introduced to them, it's shown that if Kindaichi messed up or reacted late to a toss, Kageyama would get pretty angry and yell at him, telling him to do better. And it's shown that this happened multiple times during games. 

From that, we can very easily label the responses and stimuli that would occur during classical conditioning. 

The unconditioned stimulus would be getting screamed at and criticized. 

The unconditioned response would be Kindaichi feeling hurt or upset

The neutral stimulus would be making a mistake

The conditioned stimulus would also be making a mistake

The conditioned response would also be feeling frustrated and upset. 

So basically, what we have here, is that Kindaichi would start associating messing up during volleyball with getting screamed at and feeling extremely upset and frustrated if he messed up even a little bit. 

Also yes, I understand that messing something up during a game can cause a bit of frustration, but please consider that a lot of the time during middle school, Kindaichi got yelled at even when he scored points. 

Examples of when Kindaichi shows signs of this: 

There are three specific scenes where Kindaichi shows subtle signs of classical conditioning, but they tend to get pushed aside as him respecting his upperclassmen tremendously. But this makes sense, considering that these signs are, again, very subtle, and definitely won't stand out unless you're looking for them. (or I just overanalyze everything that has to do with Kindaichi-)

The first scene happens on episode 19 of season 1, right before the first match between Aoba Johsai and Karasuno. During spiking drills, Oikawa says something along the lines of, "sorry, Kindaichi. That one was a bit high." 

The normal response to this would be very casual or laid back. But Kindaichi rapidly replies with, "yes! I mean-! No!" 

A lot of people seem to take this scene as Kindaichi being awkward. But it almost seems as if he's trying to say, "no! That wasn't your fault!" because he'd gotten so used to thinking everything was his own fault. 

The approximate timestamp for this particular scene is Season 1 episode 19- 14:20 

The second scene is very similar to the first. It's on the 22nd episode of season 2, where Kindaichi doesn't react to one of Karasuno's spikes in time, and Iwaizumi comments on how stiff he is. Similarly to how he responded to Oikawa, Kindaichi's reply is, "yes! No!" 

Again, this seems to be brushed off as Kindaichi being awkward with his upperclassmen, but it's shown that Kindaichi seems to be quite comfortable around them, and only reacts like this when someone corrects him on something. This shows that he isn't used to being corrected in a civil way, and doesn't seem to know how to respond to it. 

The approximate timestamp for this is Season 2 episode 22- 16:33

Another thing to consider is that directly after this(during the same episode and timestamp), Kindaichi seems to take a lot of responsibility for the entire team, putting a lot of the blame on himself. This, again, suggests that he believes everything is his responsibility due to the events in middle school. 

The last scene is the one that stands out the most to me. It's during the 23rd episode of season 2, in a flashback. During this flashback, we see Kindaichi missing one of Oikawa's tosses during practice. Then we see Kindaichi remember that Oikawa tells him he can ask for adjustments, and essentially has to remind himself that Oikawa will help him before actually expressing concern to Oikawa. This shows that Kindaichi wasn't used to getting treated properly, or getting support, when he wasn't able to hit a ball. 

The approximate timestamp for this scene is Season 2 episode 23- 19:12

If we look at these scenes, we can come to the conclusion that, not only did he associate making a mistake with getting shouted at and feeling horrible about himself, but he was also conditioned to think that his setter wouldn't be there for him when he needed it. This can explain a lot of Kindaichi's resentment towards Kageyama, and why he acted so crudely. 

Obstacles

Psychological obstacles are pretty much exactly what they sound like. They're hurdles that get in the way of socialization and mental growth. With Kindaichi, two specific psychological obstacles stand out to me. Confirmation Bias and Overconfidence. 

Confirmation Bias:

Confirmation bias is an obstacle where people will only acknowledge information that align with their personal beliefs and ignore information, no matter how reliable, that goes against them. 

Overconfidence: 

Overconfidence is when, as the name suggests, someone is too confident in their beliefs or judgements. These judgments are not as accurate as they may seem. 

Examples: 

Kindaichi shows a lot of signs of confirmation bias during Karasuno's practice match with Aoba Johsai. These can be seen throughout episodes 6 and 7 of season 1. 

The most obvious time we see Kindaichi struggling with this obstacle is when he refuses to acknowledge that Kageyama has gotten better after Kageyama attempts to talk to him. 

Another example of this is when Kindaichi first confronts Hinata. He talks about how horrible Kageyama was as a setter, and while that was true for Kindaichi, it wasn't the same for Hinata, or for Karasuno in general. It seems to be a mix of both confirmation bias and overconfidence here, as he ignores the fact that Hinata says that Kageyama's skills were good, while also making judgements that were more severe than reality. 

This shows that, while Kageyama did greatly impact him, Kindaichi had a hard time with psychological obstacles. They messed with his judgement and accuracy and ended up slowing down his mental healing in the process. 

Timestamps: Season 1, episode 6- 5:50

                      Season 1, episode 7- 10:12

Overview

After taking the time to analyze Kindaichi's character, we can see that he's more than the "angry guy who hates Kageyama." We can clearly see that he was conditioned to associate making a mistake with being treated unfairly and feeling crappy, and that he wasn't used to being treated in a civil way. Kindaichi also appears to deal with psychological obstacles, which slow down the healing needed to let go of middle school. This also suggests that Kindaichi thinks with more emotion and let's that guide his decisions. He's a very complex, relatable character and should be viewed as such.

[seyaryminamoto]

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 8: Yakuza AU

On FF.net//On AO3

(Directly inspired by THIS PROMPT! Thank you, anon who brought it to mind... writing this was a blast :DDD)

The soft whirring of the machine stopped, and the teenager who had been flinching on the tattooing chair now gazed at him with tearful, hopeful eyes.

"I-is it done now?"

"It's done," the tattoo artist replied, setting down his implements. "You're a whole new man, eh?"

"W-will girls think I'm cool now?"

"Oh, please. Tattoos are a mark of greatness! You should know this!" the artist laughed, shaking his head. "The worthwhile girls, yes, will love a good tattoo on a cool man, I guarantee it."

He was only eighteen, so he was old enough to make wild decisions he might regret in the future. He had graduated from high school recently, and wanted to impress girls once he started college, apparently. If only a tattoo were a guarantee of a shift in personality and confidence… but for most common people, it was but a placebo they forgot about soon enough. Tattoos didn't mean the same to them as they meant to a certain, select group of people…

That select group didn't request for machine tattoos, or vivid, sometimes even fickle designs that held simple meanings. But irezumi, or tebori, were a true sign of strength, a rite of passage he had branded onto his own skin successfully many times now… a sign that revealed the difficult, disciplined way of life he'd abided by for his adult years, even if he still worked with machine tattooing system on the side, too.

He left the teenager to recover for a few minutes, and then guided him to the parlor's door: a new arrival held it open just as the boy was slithering out, and the innocent young man shrank in his frame upon glimpsing the tall, intimidating man who stood outside the parlor. With so many tattoos across his body, he appeared to be a most dangerous threat to a young man who only wanted to visit the parlor for a simple snake tattoo upon his forearm – it hadn't even been bigger than three inches.

"E-excuse me!" the teenager squeaked, rushing out as fast as he could. From inside the store, Sokka smirked as he watched him go.

"Definitely not of our type of people, eh?" he said, glancing at the older man by the door.

The same smirk appeared on his counterpart's face, and the man even let out a hearty laugh before reaching to clasp his shoulder with his strong hand.

"Seems like business is doing well, son?" he asked. Sokka grinned and nodded.

"So far, so good!" he said, ushering Hakoda inside the parlor. "I know Master Piandao thought I shouldn't practice both traditional and modern tattoos… but hey, it pays. Casual kids these days don't think our lifestyle's worth emulating, but they sure believe tattoos make them more interesting…"

"A good belief to have," Hakoda declared. Sokka chuckled as he collected two cans of soda from a small fridge behind his desk, offering one to his father quickly. "Though… as it is, our clan could do with more than tattoos to move forward, Sokka."

"Uh… what's that supposed to mean?" he said, blinking blankly as Hakoda accepted his offer of a drink.

"It means… well, you know just the type of work I've been trying to get into," Hakoda said, his voice lowering into a growl. His business voice, Sokka had learned as much since childhood. "But it's been a problem, you see? Those damn Homura…"

"Are they fighting our people again?" Sokka groaned, shaking his head. "They keep sneaking into our territory and then pretend we're the ones at fault…"

"They surely think we are. The Homura, as you well remember, have been around since the Edo period," Hakoda sighed. "We're too new to earn their respect. But that's precisely why I'm here today."

"Because… you have a plan on how to earn it? Or you have a plan to get rid of the Homura, fancy ancestral clan it is?" Sokka asked, crooking an eyebrow before sipping his drink. Hakoda smirked.

"I have a plan to get rid of the problem they pose, yes," he said. "And I think you, my wonderful heir, are the most suitable person to fulfill it."

"I… what?" Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "Uh, that's a little much, isn't it? You sure, dad? Why me?"

"Well, for one thing, this is crucial for our clan's survival," said Hakoda. "Can't entrust such a delicate operation to anyone I can't fully rely on…"

"And I'm the best choice for it?" Sokka asked, puzzled. "I thought I was supposed to focus on the tattoo-side of things…"

"You are, of course," Hakoda continued, with a shrug. "But a young man as talented and intelligent as you… surely you can take care of both things at the same time?"

"That's a lot of trust you're putting on me," Sokka chuckled. "But I guess I'll have to hear you out first, huh? What's your plan, dad?"

Unwelcome news weren't too surprising in any yakuza clans. That being said, it wasn't every day the uncontested crime bosses of Kobe would find themselves troubled by the behavior of any of their competition… for there was no sense in there being any competition in the first place. They already had control of the area, they'd held it for years, and they had no intentions of yielding it, only of cementing it further.

Methods to achieve such a feat were more complicated than other clans might have believed: they didn't merely deal in common crime, but also in crime at the very heights of society. It wasn't merely a matter of extorting the right, connected people, but of commanding enough respect from them to obtain exactly the results they were looking for. Ozai Homura saw this as an art, and it was one he was more than pleased to teach his son, despite he appeared to not have much of a knack for economics and numbers.

That was when two of his closest associates had arrived, however, with that day's puzzling news:

"Takase, that madman supplier, has reached out to us," Zhao said, releasing a heavy breath. "It seems he wishes to serve the Homura clan, despite his many claims in the past that he only wished to work with smaller clans."

Ozai's heart beat fast underneath his old chest burn, the one with which he had proven himself the true heir of Azulon Homura. His own father had chosen to brand him, once Iroh, his older brother, had turned his back on the clan and abandoned the yakuza life. Ozai had been more than ready to inherit the role, no matter how nervous he was about the prospect when it first presented itself. Now, his own son had a burn on his face, one that proved his resilience and strength to their clan. That his eye could still function, despite his face had been burned directly, had been yet another source of pride for his father. He had feared Zuko might not be strong enough for his fated role… but all in all, two potential heirs were better than one.

"What brought about this change of mind?" Ozai said, scowling. "Such a sudden switch must have happened for a reason."

"I thought the same thing," spoke the second newcomer: Ozai turned his attention towards his daughter as she spoke. "I believe it's a play by the Kawakami clan, as a matter of fact. What its ultimate purpose may be remains to be seen, but I advise against trusting this sudden offer of generosity blindly."

It was only natural that she'd have unique, special insight to offer, and yet Ozai's heart surged with pride when Azula intervened: he knew that, when problems emerged, she was ready to resolve them. Wherever his daughter involved herself, everything simply turned out for the Homura clan's favor.

"The Kawakami clan?" Zuko repeated. "They're meaningless though, aren't they?"

"For the time being, they appeared to be," Zhao agreed. "But if they're acting boldly in this manner, perhaps they're seeking to strengthen their position somehow…"

"By losing their suppliers?" Zuko asked. "Don't you think maybe they're just weak, Father? Too weak to even hold onto their providers?"

"I'm afraid we're in no position to make assumptions," Ozai said, frowning. "Leaving lesser clans unchecked can result in dangerous problems in the long run. They may mean no harm, they may be dissolving, but it isn't befitting of the Homura clan to jump at every opportunity for profit all the same."

"It's not how we've carried ourselves over the last five hundred years," Zhao agreed.

"And that we've retained our standards has brought us this far," said Ozai, strongly. "This supplier of arms may not be reliable. He could even serve as an inside source for the Kawakami…"

"I thought of that as well," Azula interjected. "While it could be a fool's move, I can't claim the Kawakami clan's leadership is completely sound of judgment. They might want Takase to serve as an inside source on what's happening within our clan, what movements we've been making. And while a supplier is far from the most reliable source of information, that's precisely why it'd be a useful one: they're counting on us to lower our guard and take for granted they wouldn't be quite so stupid as to spy on us through a weapons' supplier."

"A Trojan horse," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "Fortunately, we are not quite as gullible as that old civilization was. You shall take point on this, Azula."

"Should she…?" Zuko asked. Ozai raised an eyebrow before turning towards him. "It's only, well…"

"You know what your sister's duty is," Ozai declared. "One day, she will clear the way for you to be a successful clan leader, allowing you to focus your attention on the bigger picture while she removes the competition. She serves as your shield, and your first line of defense. This is no duty for the heir of the Homura clan to perform, but the perfect duty for the Homura clan's enforcer to deal with."

Azula smirked proudly at those words, staring at her brother pointedly. He shrank in his frame, shooting a light glare in her direction: he would have expected his duty as the heir of the Homura family to involve far more action than he'd seen so far. He bore the mark of the heir across his face, no less, making such a painful sacrifice to prove just how worthy he could be… and now he was stuck with what amounted to a desk job, while his sister, with her impeccable face and no burn marks to her name, dealt with the real threats herself.

It wasn't what he would have expected from the yakuza lifestyle, but he couldn't bring himself to protest, not when he knew his father would be cross and displeased if he failed to understand his place in the clan. But watching Azula walk away with that satisfied smirk only brought Zuko to frown further, to wish he could have a different life, one where no one would cast him snide glares, no doubt questioning whether he or his sister were better suited to inherit the great Homura clan…

"Back to your work, Zuko," Ozai said, once he finished speaking with Zhao about any other pending subjects.

Zuko turned again towards the screen, towards the stocks. Towards his studies… away from the complicated, strange times that would soon be brought about by two clans, set into collision by the wishes of their leaders, and by the actions of their respective chosen children…

The Kawakami headquarters appeared to be a perfectly simple building on the outside – true, with a few burly men standing guard by the doors –, that concealed nothing out of the ordinary behind its walls. It was where Sokka had been raised, and thus, his second home ever since he had moved out and into his master's home, six years ago. Nowadays, he lived in the upper floor of his tattoo parlor, where he spent most his time unless the clan required him for one reason or another. Today, of course, he would keep the parlor closed, despite he longed to return to working with his needles. Priorities were priorities, and no doubt his father would be cross if he disregarded his duties only to continue tattooing green teenagers with no true understanding of what a serious tattoo stood for.

He had been skimming through files in the headquarters' main computer when he heard a ruckus outside. Assuming his sister would handle it, Sokka decided to continue focusing on which other suppliers he could afford to send off to the Homura clan, when suddenly the door to the room was thrown open: Katara marched in, with Kattan beside her.

"Uh… something the matter?" Sokka asked, grimacing preemptively – there was no doubt something had gone wrong, especially going by Kattan's horrified face.

"Sokka, I was… I was on my way to Kuinase, to collect our tax?" he said, swallowing hard. "Two… two huge Homura henchmen were at the doors. I couldn't believe it, Sokka! I ran away before they could see me, but they were definitely Homura! I saw it, you know? That ugly-ass flame tattoo on their necks…"

"You just said… in Kuinase?!" Sokka gasped, jumping to his feet.

"Those bastards are messing with our territory," Katara snarled, looking at her brother intensely. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I…" Sokka gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

Oh, so much for the damn Homura honor. Was this really how things worked with them? No wonder they were so successful: even offerings in good faith went nowhere with these people. Any clan that so much as attempted to reach out to them would be doomed to be destroyed, for they'd likely, deliberately, interpret such displays as weaknesses rather than as the olive branches they were meant to be. They accepted no competition, was it? No one could go toe-to-toe against them…?

Well, they were in for quite the surprise. He had no intentions of yielding, and if this was how they wanted to play things, he'd step up to their level, for sure.

"I have a plan," Sokka leveled his cold, blue eyes at his sister and Kattan.

Deep in the heart of Kobe, the Homura headquarters stood inconspicuously as a tall, beautiful skyscraper, masqueraded as a perfectly upstanding company like those that were hosted in the neighboring modern buildings, with glass panels reflecting the sunlight and blinding all passersby during the day. It was a beautiful building, manned by countless elegantly dressed people who wouldn't be out of place in an actual company.

One of them was, of course, Azula Homura. On her casual days, she'd wear a black leather ensemble. Otherwise, her attire was comprised by a perfectly form-fitting pantsuit, with lapels as sharp as the bangs that framed her face, or the eyeliner she applied flawlessly every morning. She was beautiful and daunting: few dared approach her, for few knew what to make of someone as intimidating as her. She seemed to know every member of the clan thoroughly, had been able to sniff out spies within their ranks since her teenage years, and was rumored to have a secret database with all relevant information about their members and their enemies. It sounded like a fantasy, however: how could someone possibly keep track of the largest yakuza clan in the nation so effectively, let alone keep track of other clans, on top of theirs? And of politicians, and of businessmen, too…?

Whoever thought it was a fantasy, however, was severely mistaken: she had eyes and allies everywhere, and she smirked as she sat at her office, a massive room within the tallest floors of the Homura headquarters. She had customized it for her personal use, with a massive screen that displayed the view of many cameras all across Kobe's area. One day, she expected, she might acquire access to more than just the ones from Kobe… but for now, it was enough for her purposes.

For just this had helped her track down a rather curious man on a motorbike, who had just parked outside Hiranuma Shoten. It would have appeared an utterly irrelevant happenstance… if only his very bearing hadn't given away that he, just like herself, was part of a yakuza clan. Only, he had to be from a lesser clan, not only because few clans could afford to be as luxurious as the Homura… but his clothes, his bearing, even his motorbike, revealed he retained a certain humility, despite everything.

She had connected quickly with Hiranuma's internal camera afterwards: she kept an eye on the new arrival, amused by his initial attempts to purchase some food… and then he leaned close to the old man selling meat. Before long, the two were laughing. And then the butcher wasn't laughing anymore.

It was all an intimidation act, masqueraded by captivating the defenseless with promises and honeyed words… an intimidation tactic she herself had stooped to in the past, a tactic she had asked some of her top-trusted advisors to perform recently in the Akashi area, too. But this man… he had a way with it, no doubt. And while Hiranuma's cameras weren't highly defined – she'd have to convince her father to finance better surveillance systems for those under their protection, it would only help in the long run – she had the distinct feeling she knew who this yakuza stranger was…

She bit her lip before inputting her first guess in her database, on the next computer. And while the database was at it…

She dialed a number expertly, without even looking at her phone, before raising it to her ear with her left hand while deftly navigating her resources with her right. Within instants, the man she was calling picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hiranuma Shoten's owner is being extorted by a Kawakami, I believe. Perhaps even the heir, if my guess is accurate," Azula said, shifting through files quickly.

"We'll be there soon," the man on the other side spoke.

"I'll follow him too. You won't lose track of him," Azula promised.

"That would help us very much. We are ever at your service."

She smirked as she hung up the call, and just then, she happened upon the file she had been navigating through. She only had a picture of his face, which was exactly what the camera wouldn't allow her to see… but curses, she had updated this resource and hadn't so much as looked at the Kawakami heir's file so far, had she? Otherwise, she certainly wouldn't have forgotten that damn handsome visage…

"Guess you grew up just fine, did you?" Azula mused, allowing herself a small smirk.

His strong cheekbones, his manly, perfectly defined jawline, that dark skin, typical of the Kawakami's main branch… where so many in Japan preferred light skin, Azula found herself inevitably drawn to the opposite. A whim, she thought, the first times it had happened… but this damn Kawakami was likely to convince her of the opposite.

Though his most striking feature were his eyes: coldly, sharply, beautifully blue. Those were the eyes of a man who, if pushed, could commit a murder without blinking… and where that thought might have daunted anyone else, a yakuza princess, as she was often referred to, could only find that haunted darkness underneath the Kawakami's eyes to be a fascinating thing. If only his clan hadn't been founded over the last hundred years, he'd be under Homura protection instead, and…

… And she wouldn't finish that stupid, pointless thought. Fine, he was attractive, but she wasn't here to daydream over the enemy. Fool that she was.

Her eyes switched to the camera's screen again just when he was saying his goodbyes to a most grateful butcher. Azula snapped her tongue, making a mental note to send word to the man as soon as she had sorted out the Kawakami heir, if it truly was him. She really did hope it was him…

He had to be the one behind the generous giveaway of Takase, just as well. This was, she knew, retaliation for her own retaliation – she had sent henchmen to Akashi, to spread word that the Kawakami were weakened and couldn't afford to protect them anymore, losing suppliers as they were. No doubt that move didn't sit well with her rival, but she couldn't care less: he was playing a game he couldn't afford to win, and she would gladly teach him as much with each of her responses.

She swapped back to the street's camera and watched him climb aboard his motorbike, setting his helmet in place – he was responsible, of course, but he was also a man of style, wearing a helmet worthy of racers rather than a simple, casual, cheap one. It was, perhaps, the least humble element in his apparel. Azula smirked as she switched from camera to camera while following him across the streets: she jotted down the motorbike's plate, and was unsurprised when she found no identifiable bike under those numbers in the Japanese government's databases of legal vehicles. She couldn't help but smile as she continued to follow him, riding along with him, without his awareness.

He finally made a new stop: a yakiniku restaurant, Miyabi. Azula released a breath before redialing, once she confirmed he had entered the restaurant in question.

"He's in Miyabi now. How far away are you?"

"Oh, a change in location? Not to worry. We can be there within the next three minutes."

"Make haste, then. I can follow him as much as necessary, but this is for the community's good, isn't it?" Azula said, sardonically.

"Of course it is," replied the serious man on the other side. She smirked.

"You're never any fun," she said.

"I'm not paid to be fun," was his reply again.

"Not sure you could be, even if you were," she said, releasing a breath. "I'm counting on you, Renkai."

"As you wish."

Again, the communication was interrupted, and again, Azula was free to watch the Kawakami heir, now through Miyabi's better cameras. Yes, this was him, no doubt. His haircut was different nowadays, with that manly shaved undercut, as well as that perfect ponytail – was it called that, in his case? She sported one of her own, though his was shorter than hers – that only enhanced his intimidating factor. He appeared as a modern samurai, Azula guessed… perhaps that was what he fashioned himself as. The idea should sound ridiculous rather than appealing, and yet…

"How you've grown, Sokka," she whispered, biting her lip.

She had met him only on occasion, during yakuza clan meetings, whether those held to solve disputes between other clans, or to strike temporary alliances to destroy those who weren't playing by the rules. He always stuck to his father, just as Azula always stuck to hers. They had met each other's gaze a few times, as they were amongst the only young people in the room, even when they were teenagers… but that had been all. She wasn't sure they had ever exchanged any words, and if they had, she sure had forgotten them. They had only been children back then… now they were fully grown, actual players in this game, ready to make their mark across Hyogo prefecture by any means necessary. He was surely just as ambitious as she was… and that thought was thrilling to her.

Though she wondered if she was giving him too much credit: how would he react, once the inevitable happened? Once the men she had sent after him broke through Miyabi's door, in less than a minute now…

Azula couldn't contain a grin as she saw him growing nervous: was he hearing the sounds of doom? Was he truly so foolish as to assume it wasn't meant for him? He wasn't doing anything harmful, no, of course not, he was innocent… she could see it all in his face, and it was more than laughable. Oh, perhaps she really had been giving him too much credit: the Kawakami could be as attractive as they wished, but they were no match for the full forces of the Homura clan.

The door was thrown open before Sokka had any chance to react: he raised his hands bitterly as the police stepped up, with their blunt weapons at the ready in case he did anything dangerous. Miyabi's owner, an elderly woman, appeared utterly horrified by whatever was happening, but she deflected all blame and pointed to Sokka constantly… that was, of course, the natural behavior of anyone who owed their safety and wellbeing to a yakuza clan. She couldn't be caught dealing with someone from another clan, absolutely not…

Azula laughed and sighed, watching as Renkai, clad in his immaculate, white uniform, dragged Sokka through the doors after shackling his hands. Well, that had been fun, even if her contact within the city police hadn't intended to amuse her…

Yet the stubborn, angry yakuza shot a glare at the nearest camera in the streets, taking her by surprise for it. Had he known he was being followed remotely? Had he noticed, perhaps? Surely not… surely he believed it was just the police's doing. He might not have known the Homura had infiltrated their organization for almost two hundred years… and yet, even through that low-resolution camera, she could sense his bitterness, and she relished in it. A soft chuckle left her lips as she raised an eyebrow defiantly towards his image:

"Well, then… what shall be your next move, Sokka Kawakami?"

Katara and Kya didn't hold back the judgmental stares once Sokka's fine was fully paid, and he was a free man once again. He scoffed as they walked together, as the sunset ominously promised they'd be in hostile territory by nightfall, but surely they'd be able to find a car to take them to Akashi before long…

"You really are an idiot, picking fights with the Homura like this…" Katara said. Sokka huffed.

"I'm not picking fights! I was trying to be friendly, they gave me the finger figuratively, so I retaliated!" he said. "But they're just… Ugh! How shitty can they be, setting the police on me? That's bad form! That's like… tattling on your sibling when you're a child!"

"Hey! Are you really bringing up our childhood now? You're the one who landed himself in this mess!" Katara scolded him, but Sokka rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Kya groaned and wrapped an arm around each of her children's shoulders, pulling them together and against her body. Even then, Sokka and Katara wouldn't stop scowling at each other.

"What matters most is you're safe now, Sokka. Safe, and soon outside Homura territory," Kya said, smiling at her son. "I know you must be frustrated, dear, but take it easy. Whatever mission your father gave you, surely there's other ways to fulfill it…"

"I wonder about that," Sokka grumbled. "As far as I can tell, I'm simply…"

A light tremor, underneath their feet, stopped Sokka halfway through his rambling. Katara gasped, despite quakes were perfectly common in Japan… for the vibrations were growing stronger, worrisomely so.

"Mom, Katara!" Sokka shouted, wrapping his arms protectively around them as he ran them away from the tallest buildings.

They were lucky to be out in open spaces, but panic flared inside all their chests as the earth's movements continued to shake them to the bone. People were screaming – glass shattered, and even cracks on the floor appeared to spread as the telluric movements continued for what felt like an eternity. Sokka continued to shield both his mother and sister with his body, in case any glass from the buildings around them came crashing down, but they managed to reach a park safely, without any such projectiles falling upon them.

That being said… the vibrations continued, and loud, explosive sounds could be heard across the city. Sokka still held onto both Katara and Kya, who seemed to cower from the rustling earthquake in his chest. He'd protect them… but earthquakes of this magnitude were seldom harmless, and the sounds they could hear in the distance weren't promising. Even before the shaking dwindled, he knew the whole prefecture had sustained a lot of damage… and he knew he wanted to be there to fix as much of it as he could, no matter how difficult it might be.

It wasn't the worst of all earthquakes, and yet a 7.7 quake was still powerful enough to shake down the foundations of the weakest buildings in Kobe. The damage was difficult to assess at the earliest stages, but the wounded numbered around the hundreds, and the confirmed death toll wouldn't be much lesser than that. News outlets reported on the disaster, as relief efforts seemed to flood the city area, aiding those who had been left homeless, those who had lost everything.

The Homura clan had been safe, for their perfectly modern building hadn't sustained even a single crack to its foundations. The evacuation was quite nerve-wrecking, for many people couldn't possibly stay calm in the face of catastrophes, and their anxiety could prove contagious to those who, under other circumstances, might have handled themselves better. Even Zuko had appeared close to a nervous breakdown for a time, and Azula wished she could stop from being affected by other people's actions or reactions… once she was safely outside, and most the evacuation efforts were finished, she turned to her father, who stood at their building's entrance, surrounded by bodyguards, a stern scowl on his face.

"What… what shall we do?" she asked. Ozai scoffed.

"This will be an economic disaster. Again," he growled. "I'll let you know if I need your assistance."

Azula swallowed hard but lowered her gaze. Well, at least she'd done her job before this tragedy took place. The Kawakami clan would certainly not be much of a problem, though she did wonder quietly, despite her better judgment, if the heir had been released from jail before the earthquake started…

Why did she feel the need to check on that? Maybe she had been enjoying the strange entertainment he provided her with… maybe that was it. But it was no reason to focus on him now, for sure. She didn't know the guy, not truly, and however handsome he might be, his wellbeing was his clan's business, not hers. That's how life worked. That's how it had to be. Yakuza looked after their own, and that was that.

Yet as days passed, and relief efforts became the sole focus of the bulk of the population, unsettling news reached Azula by word of mouth: it seemed a yakuza clan had taken to offering relief, personally, to the victims of the disaster. She received pictures soon, of those men in what in her eyes was outdated yakuza apparel, covered in tattoos, helping hoist debris off buildings. There were even women, also bearing similar tattoos, offering relief in the form of food and shelter to many who were left with none.

And then the helicopter: they had a helicopter. They were scouring the city from above, searching for survivors, sending their people to dig through the worst rubble until they saved as many lives as they possibly could.

She could tell it was them, even before seeing a picture where he, of all people, was featured. A picture of him climbing out of a fallen building, carrying two battered children in his arms, an exhausted expression across his handsome, haggard face. A symbol of hope, of hard work, of strength… all of it, carried across those richly tattooed arms. If she hadn't been floored by the impact of their actions and rescue efforts, her loins might have just taken the wheel to focus, as unnecessarily as ever, on what a powerful man the Kawakami heir had turned out to be.

But there was something far more important than that to worry about. For her father would need to hear about this. And once he did…

"Curse them! Curse those bastards!" growled Ozai, slamming the tablet on his office's marble floors. Azula flinched when the device shattered by her father's violent gesture: Zuko as well recoiled, watching his father warily, in fear of how far his temper would take him this time.

Ozai shook his head as he paced through the room, the shattered tablet forgotten now. Zuko swallowed hard and raised his voice, no matter how daunting his father's wrath might be.

"We should be out there too. If we help…!"

"Silence! I won't even hear of it!" Ozai snapped, turning quickly to shoot a deadly glare at his son. Zuko shrank in place, daunted immediately. "We won't imitate lesser clans! We will find another way to put an end to their ambitions. They've certainly bitten off more than they can chew if they expect they'll ever be allowed to take our clan's place!"

"If I may…" Azula chimed in, and this time Ozai did appear inclined to listen. Yet another blow to Zuko's ego, although this time it didn't seem Azula was about to rejoice for it. "A yakuza clan looks after their own. That is our founding creed."

"What of it?" Ozai said, and his temper appeared poised to rear its ugly visage again.

"I believe we should look after our own, yes," Azula said, swallowing hard, intimidated as well… despite she was certain her plan would appear far more agreeable to her father than her brother's words had been. "You know I keep tabs on all our associated businesses. I suggest we offer monetary relief to those associated with us. While it may not garner our clan the same renown and media attention the Kawakami might attain…"

"It will ascertain they know we haven't forsaken them," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "And it will prevent them from turning their backs on us, at least."

"I hope so," Azula said. "We do have the funds, don't we?"

"Yes… yes we do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "Well, then. Perhaps it is time we remind the common folk of how valuable it is to stay on the Homura's good side."

Zuko frowned, glancing at his sister uneasily as they both were dismissed from Ozai's office. With curt bows, the two siblings left together, and Zuko barely waited for the door to be closed before scowling at Azula.

"Why did you suggest that? We're not loan sharks, are we?" Zuko said. "We can't let the Kawakami upstage us…"

"They already have," Azula hissed back. Zuko froze in place. "The Homura family doesn't follow the examples set by others, Zuko. You should know better than to even suggest we do. We're the trailblazers, not them. And if we simply fall in line, right behind a lesser clan, our reputation will be far more damaged than it is already."

"But… those are actual people, in danger, suffering," Zuko told her, as they walked together towards the nearby, modern elevator. Azula scoffed, but Zuko didn't relent. "We can't just toss a check at them and expect it'll all turn out for the better!"

"We'll make wire transfers, much faster and more effective than checks…"

"That's not my point!"

"I know it's not, but I wish it were," Azula hissed, glaring at him. Zuko froze in place. "Keep talking like this, and it won't be long before father decides you're not worthy of your burn mark. You sound like Uncle Iroh."

Zuko gritted his teeth as Azula stepped into the elevator. She didn't wait for him to enter it too before tapping her floor, and Zuko made no efforts to join her as the doors closed. Well, waiting for another elevator ride should give him some time to think, at least.

Truthfully, they had never involved themselves with these disasters beyond looking after their own people. At least, not as far as Azula remembered. She had memorized the clan's history since childhood… and it was impossible to think of any other situation where they had barged into the scene the way the Kawakami had just now, because the Homura simply didn't do that sort of thing. If they ever had, they would've beaten the Kawakami to it already.

Azula sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. What she'd offered Ozai was but damage control… a manner of retaining some power, before the media and the relief efforts of the Kawakami clan stole it all from them. And yet why, even as she made her way to her hi-tech office, was it the only thing she could evoke in her mind was that image of the strong, tall Sokka Kawakami, helping children to safety…?

"You're not serious, are you? Money? That's what they're doing?" Sokka asked, aghast, staring at Hakoda in chagrin.

And yet Hakoda smiled proudly, patting his strong son's shoulder gently. The whole family was gathered for lunch at one of the relief centers, where they had aided in distributing food to countless homeless people who now looked to them as saviors. They'd need as much help as they could get… but most the ones who had businesses, whether still functioning or not, had already stopped appearing at the Kawakami clan's relief centers. Their absence had bothered Sokka at first… and now it unnerved him, despite it seemed his father was perfectly comfortable with the situation.

"The Homura have offered monetary relief to the people, yes," Hakoda nodded. "And yet not all have taken it. Beyond that, many new faces have turned to us for help: not the Homura, not the government, us. While we have certainly taken a blow to our finances… it's safe to say we're on a good path at the moment, Sokka. You needn't panic, alright?"

"I… I know that, it's just… ugh," Sokka growled, shaking his head. "Every new thing I know about the Homura makes them more despicable. They're so… distant, even with those they're supposed to be protecting. And giving people money when they've lost everything… as if that'd be any good."

"It helps in its own way," Kya acknowledged, sipping her plastic cup's drink slowly. "But it's not the honorable way to proceed, no."

"That's the thing with the Homura. It always has been," Hakoda said. "Honor… it's an important concept for some yakuza: not them, though, no matter if they claim otherwise. Profit drives them, profit and success. And while I did ask you to figure out how to strike an alliance with them, you should never forget that truth, Sokka. Even if they decide to join forces with us, the Homura aren't going to do anything against their interests. They'll always look for profit and advancements. It's not how we should ever conduct ourselves, for sure."

"We won't," Sokka said, stubbornly.

"Why ally ourselves with them anyway?" Katara asked, with a grimace. "Our great-grandfather really should've set up his clan elsewhere. Having the Homura for neighbors is dreadful."

"They could be worse," Hakoda smiled, awkwardly. "But I only want an alliance for the sake of our clan. I don't want them to continue phasing us out. Other clans have joined forces elsewhere in the country, you know? Mainly to hold the fort against other up and coming clans. We could do the same thing with the Homura, and it'd certainly be the strongest alliance in the nation…"

"Now it is. Considering how big we've gotten," said Katara, grinning. "We have a lot of new recruits, begging to join the clan."

"See? It all comes together," said Hakoda, beaming at Sokka. "Don't despair, my boy! Hope is in the horizon!"

Was it, though? Sokka bit his lip but nodded, in surrender.

He didn't return to headquarters with the rest of his family after the food operative was finished. Instead, he took to doing what he'd done since the earthquake: walking across the streets, assessing the damage, pondering how many efforts and resources were needed to fix it. His parlor had been safe, he had checked on the day after the earthquake, but the nearby houses, especially the traditional ones, had sustained plenty of damage, some even torn down completely by the shockwaves. He had helped as best he could in his area, and then proceeded to offer support everywhere his father told him to go, as he organized the relief efforts to the best of the Kawakami clan's ability.

But Hakoda's words about the Homura returned to mind. Sokka sighed as he made his way through the sidewalk across Matsugaoka Park, pondering just how complicated this whole matter of an alliance would be. They didn't share the same values, nor did they work for the same purposes. Ozai Homura had always been known to be a merciless clan boss… meanwhile, Hakoda was the most spirited, good-natured of them all, as far as Sokka could tell. If the Homura were truly this dishonorable, though… was it even worth it to strike a bargain with them?

It could allow them to help more people, Sokka reasoned. The Homura, if they ever let loose with their money, at least just a little, could fund immense community programs of the sorts the Kawakami had never been able to handle themselves. It was a valuable alliance… and not having to fear the Homura henchmen would fight their own on sight was quite a good idea. Not being sent to jail because he was trying to poach their people would be nice, too…

How had they even pulled that off, for starters? He had heard the Homura kept an eye everywhere, on everything… he frowned, blinking at a contraption not far from where he walked: traffic cameras. There had been one near Miyabi, too. While those surely were connected with the government, there were far more cameras on this street's surveilance contraption than the strictly necessary, weren't there? He scowled, hands on his hips, as he stopped to stare at them: some were aimed towards the sidewalks, not exclusively the street. It wasn't that the government was too cheap to do this… but six cameras in the same place? Excessive… and perhaps meaningful.

Was this what the Homura did? They surveilled the whole city through an immense camera circuit? Were they setting up their own devices, or were they working covertly with the government and the police…? Both possibilities were there. But he guessed, as he stared at the camera aimed at him, that he could send a message to the Homura all the same: an alliance should be struck, as Hakoda had asked of him. An alliance that should prove favorable to both clans, an offering of something the Homura lacked… the Homura, who had everything in the world, as far as everyone know.

Everything but one thing, come to think of it. Sokka stroked his chin, pondering Kattan's words, and his own knowledge of Homura henchmen, before making up his mind about what the next move should be.

He returned to headquarters quickly, rather than heading home: the one man he had to find, the one he was looking for, happened to be there, waiting to meet with him.

"I was rejected!" Takase declared, throwing his hands in the air. "Sorry, but you can't get rid of me that easily. That's just how it is."

"I see," Sokka chuckled. "Well, it's good to have you back. Though I'm surprised they rejected you so boldly, huh? One would think they'd know better than to toss away a great asset like yourself."

"And quite the asset I am, too, but if they don't know my worth, it ain't my business," declared Takase.

"Good, though… can I ask, who did you meet while they deliberated on whether to work with you or not?" Sokka said. "Was it goons, or were there any higher-ups in there…?"

"Eh? Two higher-ups, actually. They can't have goons deciding on hiring a bigshot like me, eh?" said Takase. "The first one… he had those ear whiskers, you know? Them bug fuzzy hair right past the ears…"

"Mutton chops? Sideburns?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile.

"There, there! That's the thing!"

"Then Zhao Homura," Sokka hissed. "And the other?"

"Eh, some girl. Probably a little younger than you… your sister's age, maybe? But it looked like she was the boss instead. I didn't catch her name, but it felt like… like she was a razor, somehow? You know? I thought to offer to design a razor for her, but then she cut me down, so I thought – does she even need one? Heck no!"

"Was she… dark-haired?" Sokka asked. "Fair skin? Maybe gold eyes?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, all that," said Takase, nodding. "She was dressed all fancy too. You know… maybe she's the Homura daughter! Ha! I hadn't even thought of it, but it's got to be her…"

"It's got to be her, alright," Sokka smiled slowly, the gears turning gradually in his mind.

It did make perfect sense… she was, after all, rumored to be the true strength that held the Homura together. She was seldom seen unless it was necessary, and her private life was, in all likelihood, as private as it could get. Sokka couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her in person… surely they had still been as good as children. But that was then, and this was now: he needed to contact her, and to settle their dispute in the smoothest way possible.

The best means through which to achieve that, however, was none other than his top-of-the-line, networking sister: Katara was happy to see him, as ever… and utterly confused when he voiced his request.

"You want me to tell you everything I know about Azula Homura?" she repeated. "Well… damn, not much. She keeps to herself? Some people say she's obsessed with her work, and the whole reason the Homura clan is even succeeding despite the massive loss of members they had after the previous heir abandoned? You remember that story, right?"

"Right, the heir who defected and ran away to Korea?" Sokka said, nodding. "His son was killed or something, wasn't that it?"

"I think so," Katara answered. "No idea if Azula Homura has an heir burn, if that's what you wanted to know…"

"I doubt it," Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "But… do you think you know people who know her?"

"I think I could reach her, if you need me to?" Katara said, eyeing him warily. "Why? If you want an arranged marriage you could ask for something a little less outlandish…?"

"I wasn't going to ask for… hey. Hey, now, that's not the worst idea," Sokka reasoned, smirking as he prodded his stubble with his thumb. Katara huffed, rolling her eyes.

"I bet this is all over dad's request to help him ally with the Homura… well, whatever!" she said. "I'll see what I can do, I'll try to get her a message. But just so you know…"

"I owe you, big time, yep," Sokka grinned. "I'll design a great tattoo for you!"

"You'd better," Katara huffed, smiling at her brother: she wasn't quite as covered in tattoos as he was, but she already sported a few of her brother's creations on her arms. Maybe one on her ankle wouldn't be a bad idea…

Sokka returned shortly afterwards with the message he needed to convey. And Katara took to unraveling the network through which she'd bring it to the Homura princess, a far more complicated feat than she expected it to be.

The key to the plan was a perfectly discreet locale, a classy bar behind a beautiful brown door, in a small building. Shiori had often been a location suited for casual encounters between low-ranked clan members of any yakuza family, and as it happened, the most common visitors were the henchmen of the Homura clan. Katara found the right person to whom she could ask to slip the note to any Homura who appeared capable enough to act on it: the karaoke room within the building was where the exchange took place, where a young man of the Kawakami took to any and all extremes to convince a mature Homura woman to see to it that Sokka's message was conveyed successfully.

The message was then passed from Homura hand to Homura hand, until finally it reached the destination it sought, when a tall Homura goon had knocked on Azula's door, gesturing at a small leaflet in his hand.

"Seems like you've got a message. Nothing harmful in it, I checked, but… might useful, I dunno," said the goon, handing the message to the heir's daughter. Her eyes narrowed as she snagged the paper from his hand… and her heart, so tempered and evenly paced, suddenly raced upon reading the contents of the message.

Got a business proposal for you. Check your logs, Meimai Central, 12/6: Matsugaoka Park on 15/6, at 7. I'll make it worth your while.

Her chest tightened as she read those words. Someone had unraveled the rather obvious truth – that she could see through the cameras all across the city. And that person had a business proposal for her: even before dismissing the goon, and searching through her camera logs, she knew who she'd find in the video registry… and her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw him, staring directly into the camera, waving, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive and definitely inappropriate manner.

A business proposal… well, she could hear him out. She should, if anything: if she found any weaknesses worth exploiting, she'd tear the Kawakami down and protect the interests of the Homura. That was what she'd do, what she'd always been meant to do…

Though, if she took a light detour before getting there, in case the Kawakami heir was interested, she wouldn't complain one bit.

Sokka breathed out slowly as he stepped off the sidewalk. The street was fortunately empty… or perhaps not quite that fortunately, really. Surely the Homura princess had set up some sort of forcible detour for cars to ensure the encounter between them would have perfect privacy… and perfect surveillance by her people. He released a breath as he entered Matsugaoka park's premises, sensing a thousand eyes upon himself… knowing there might as well be a thousand. There was no way she would attend this meeting without the thickest, sturdiest security detail ever.

He breathed out as he paced inside the park, searching with his gaze until his eyes finally landed upon a human silhouette, standing amidst the trees, under a lamppost with unsteady, blinking brightness.

He started on his way towards her as quietly as possible, assessing the enemy – or the ally-to-be, if all went well – as thoroughly as he dared. And there was plenty to assess, too: she had decided to wear a leather ensemble for this encounter, apparel worthy of a biker, Sokka thought to himself, but where it could have looked ridiculous in anyone else, it was breathtaking in a woman of her figure. Her long, dark, flowing hair played in the breeze, held up in a long ponytail that exposed her nape frequently, if the wind blew her strands in the right direction.

Even now, when looking at her from behind – and enjoying thoroughly the sight of her rear's curves, goodness, how dared she dress in leather when she already had a killer body? – his whole system jolted with anticipation. Chances to interact with other clans were sparse, and they never ever sent anyone who looked remotely as good as Azula Homura did… though Sokka hoped, despite he knew it was stupid, that her face wouldn't be all that pretty. If it was, he'd be a goner, so if just that…

"That's far enough," spoke a strong, feminine voice: her voice. His body shivered involuntarily, as he halted on his spot, obeying her immediately.

She turned then, and all his hopes shattered altogether: she was gorgeous. Everything about her was impossibly appealing, to the point his damn body appeared to be reacting to the Homura's presence as it pleased. No, there was no reason to be aroused, not when she would only be here with very strict purposes in mind…

"You're awfully relaxed, aren't you?" Azula Homura asked. Sokka swallowed hard but smirked.

"If your sharpshooters take me down now… well, can't say I'd ever hoped to get a better view than this, in my final moments," he said.

"How terribly corny," said Azula, rolling her eyes. "Does that sort of line work with all the girls you meet?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I don't usually attempt to meet up with girls who have hundreds of sharpshooters aiming at me, would you?" he said. To his delight, she smiled.

"Your dating life must be boring, if so," she said. He smirked.

"Has been, so far. Are you feeling bad for me, all of sudden?" he inquired, casually. Azula scoffed, though she still smiled.

"Not quite. I'm amused, if anything," she said. "But I'd assume you didn't ask me to come here just because you wanted to swap our dating histories, did you? I could've simply sent you a summary of mine if you'd asked…"

"Right. And I'm sure you've already looked through mine?" he said, smirking. "Seems like you know everything going on in this city."

"And I thought the Kawakami were relegated to southern Akashi, hence, not in this city," Azula said, raising her eyebrows. "Or is it that you're here to sell Kawakami territory to us? Want me to keep watch over your city, too?"

"Want to keep watch over it?" Sokka asked, raising his eyebrows. Azula's amusement receded. "Look… you're smart. Smarter than anyone else in the Homura clan. Surely the thought has occurred to you, right? We Kawakami are a pointless, boring rock in your fancy Homura shoe. We get in the way of your business, whether intentionally or not, because we took office way too close to your domains. And where you guys probably think the best solution is to snuff us out… I think there's a much more peaceful solution we can consider."

"And what's that?" Azula asked, with a sardonic smile.

"An alliance," Sokka said. Unsurprisingly, Azula scoffed.

"What do we have to gain by allying with you? What would the Kawakami offer the Homura that we lack? This is what you and your father have been after? The reason you gave us Takase, the reason you started to defy us by attempting to steal our people…"

"Hey, now, you started it!" Sokka pouted. Azula, despite herself, smiled.

"You're childish. And only a childish man would make a suggestion as outlandish as this one," she said, simply. "I should have the sharpshooters shoot you indeed for all this nonsense…"

"Don't know if you should do that," Sokka said, smiling. "Your defenses are within the park, aren't they? Well… I may have posed a few friends in the nearby buildings just as well. I made an educated guess regarding where you'd position yours, offered my own sharpshooters the possible locations for your henchmen…"

"So you're saying, if mine shoot you, yours will shoot them… you'd die, then my henchmen die, then I make myself scarce and I survive while you don't?" she said, smirking. Sokka chuckled and shook his head.

"You can't be sure you'll get away so easily," he said.

"Oh, what makes you think that?" she asked, amused again. "You expect I won't know these territories as thoroughly as I please, Kawakami?"

"I expect, rather, that you'd be amenable to discussing business instead of jumping for the kill right away," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I know you've been watching me for a while, hell knows just how far your reach goes. You know I didn't come alone either, much like you didn't. So… how about we have our perfectly normal business exchange, and if you think my idea is worthless, you let me know, and we'll go our separate ways without causing any deaths that might result in a massive clan war?"

"Hmm… wouldn't be massive. The Homura outnumber your clan by tenfold, at least," said Azula, with a sardonic grin. Sokka rolled his eyes but smiled.

"My point still stands. You don't want to cause more trouble for the Homura by killing me when I'm only here for business," he said, raising his hands.

"Indeed, the business of an alliance that doesn't appear to offer much in the way of benefits to the Homura clan," said Azula, haughtily. "Why do I need to ally with you, Sokka Kawakami?"

"You don't need to, that's the truth. Neither do we need to be allied with you," he conceded. "But the Kyoshi clan down south was faltering, and after striking an alliance with the Tsuchiya clan, they've both thrived and resurged as leading clans. I'm not saying the Homura need an alliance to stay solid in their position as the biggest clan in the nation… but surely you guys don't want the others to catch up to you, right?"

"Surely," Azula repeated, tapping her arm with a finger. "All that being said… the Homura clan doesn't quite need to associate with a lesser clan to rise in prominence. There's parts of Asia that outright don't know what the word "yakuza" stands for, but tremble in fear upon hearing the family name "Homura". There have been movies about us, documentaries, we have contacts that the rest of the clans wish they could attain… and you think your clan would be our most favorable alliance possible? Why?"

"I suppose the geopolitical angle doesn't interest you much?" Sokka said. "Having freedom to go in and out of Akashi… I'd argue, of course, that the terms of the alliance should make it so we retain jurisdiction in our cities and territories, but the other clan has freedom of passage and occasional operations – with previously granted permission – in the area. We could even settle on a fee of a sort, a percentage of money gained from operations that we'd offer you, you could do the same for us…"

"Sounds counterproductive," said Azula. Sokka chuckled.

"Right, right, it's easier to kill off the Kawakami, isn't it? But see, there is one thing our clan can offer yours, one thing you really could use…" he smirked, stepping closer to her. "Something you have been missing for, well, I don't know how many years? Something I guess you guys disregarded as irrelevant, going by how your people are always dressed in fancy, full-body suits, these days…"

"What… are you getting at?" Azula said, despite her better sense already suspected what his point would be. Sokka smirked.

"You don't have a proper tebori artist anymore, do you?" he said. She couldn't hide the irritation that crossed her face. "Haven't had one for a very long time. Your people? If they have any tattoos, it's some ridiculous-looking little flame, probably made with western technique…"

"The fools who have tattooed themselves with that thing have been reprimanded, and others discouraged from following their example," Azula snapped. Sokka's grin only gained further mischief. "That being said, how exactly does the Kawakami clan wind up obtaining a rare, tebori artist where the Homura clan couldn't find any to replace the old master we lost about twenty years ago?"

"Why… we have our secrets, you have yours," Sokka shrugged. Azula scoffed.

"I question your words. Perhaps you don't have one at all, and you're pulling my hair," she said. Sokka snorted.

"Alright… this won't look good, but please, don't order your men to shoot me for it," he said, raising his hands defensively… before pulling open his jacket.

The t-shirt he wore underneath it wrapped around his muscular body, despite it wasn't meant to be tight. His chest appeared large, even while hidden beneath another layer of fabric… and his arms were rather thick, with tense muscles that shifted in an entrancing way as Sokka set down his jacket and made to remove his t-shirt next.

Azula's jaw threatened to drop, but she ensured not to show how badly this particular, shameless display of her opponent was affecting her. Oh, that body… the more he exposed it, the more she feared she'd make a fool of herself, jumping to devour him in the eyes of all the sharpshooters they both had brought with them to this park. Ugh, she was a fool for wishing she had taken no precautions, but the gradually exposed body before her, each tense muscle, each ridge of his abs and pectorals, were tugging through all her many layers of powerful self-control, urging her to act on her impulses for once instead of holding back for appearances' sake…

She had forgotten the purpose of his disrobing once the t-shirt was fully removed, but he hadn't: he gestured at the shapes over his shoulders, spreading into his bare chest.

"You can tell, can't you? They're actual tebori," he said. "I applied these myself."

"You… what?" Azula gasped, staring at him in genuine astonishment. Sokka grinned.

"Let it be known that I have the self-control and pain-threshold to pull off art on my own body without mucking it up," he smirked. "I've been tattooing many of the Kawakami ever since my master decided I was ready. Most prefer koi tattoos in our clan, but I… I liked the wolf. It's fierce, and it protects the pack. I like to think of myself as one, obnoxious as it sounds…"

Well, a man with that body had every right to be as obnoxious as he pleased, as far as Azula was concerned. Twin wolves stood at each of his shoulders, their jaws open threateningly, claws and fangs beared, and they lunged downwards into Sokka's pectorals, right above his nipples. It wasn't all though: waves appeared to spread across underneath the wolves, across his abdomen, perhaps even over his back…

"And you expect me to think… you tattooed your own back?" she asked, skeptical. Sokka chuckled.

"Yeah, that one I couldn't do myself. My old master actually started the back tattoo for me," Sokka explained, turning around and gesturing at the design: Azula nearly gasped, for the pattern of the sea merged into yet another wolf shape, one that appeared ready to pounce, right across his spine. "I told him what I had in mind, he started from there, told me I'd only be allowed to start tattooing my clansmen if I succeeded at tattooing myself. And I did."

"You… did. I suppose. Though… I don't know if I believe you yet," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "You claim you can do tebori, but you alone have tattooed all the Kawakami? Just one man wouldn't suffice for our clan."

"I'm not the only one, no," Sokka smiled. "Though I'm one of the best, for sure. My master might agree to tattoo a few of your people, as long as you all ask nicely. There's about three more of his apprentices within our ranks, the third is still pretty green but the others are good enough. Of course, it'll take a while… but your clan can go right back to bearing amazing tattoos that will instill fear in the hearts of the enemy, eh? Instead of inspiring laughter, like that silly flame does…"

"Be that as it may, we haven't needed tattoos for that purpose for a while" Azula said… though her tone suggested she saw actual value in this proposal, if nothing else.

"Not like they'd hurt, eh? Well, figuratively anyway," said Sokka, smiling as he pulled his shirt on again, and while Azula didn't quite want to stop watching his bare body, even the visual of him dressing up proved a most stimulating. "It's a big tradition for yakuza, always has been. Surely your dad will want to hear of this offer, at least? If he says no, fine, I'll accept my defeat. If he says yes…"

"He won't say either no or yes until I've decided your offer and your apparent skills are trustworthy," Azula declared, stubbornly. Sokka blinked blankly. "By which I mean… if you agree to tattoo one member of our clan as an example of what you can do, and you prove successful, I'll discuss your alliance proposal and possibilities with my father. If I can interest him in this arrangement, you may meet directly with him – though I suppose it'd be more agreeable if your father were the one to meet him and settle the alliance. Still… first of all, I'll have to be sure you're not pulling our hair."

"Heh. Seems fair," Sokka nodded. "Alright, then. I guess I'll give you the location of my parlor, in a show of good faith… send your clan member tomorrow? If it's a full-body tattoo, though, this could take a while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. "Pardon my ignorance, but I haven't really had to worry about the logistics of tebori tattoos for as long as I've been working actively in the Homura clan."

"Well, depends on the difficulty. But sessions could even span months, if it's too tricky," Sokka admitted. Azula scowled.

"How do you plan on tattooing all our people if it takes months?" she asked.

"It doesn't always take that long, but I'd think you'd know better than to expect this for all your people?" Sokka laughed. "I'd think the bigger fish are the ones who ought to have the tebori, if they want them, of course. You could even make it a matter of a reward: if they do their jobs well, they'll be eligible for tattoos with us. See?"

"I see," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "Well, then… I'll contact you for the address tomorrow."

"I guess you can get my number, just like that?" Sokka asked, amused.

"Buy yourself a burner phone, if you don't trust me," she said, smiling too. "There's a store nearby, you can find one there. I'll get the number out of the owner, and contact you through a burner of my own."

"Seems fair," Sokka smiled. "Well, then… we're in temporary business, for now?"

"Making it a permanent deal shall hinge on your skills, above all else," Azula raised her head haughtily. "For the time being, I'll expect your people to stay in their lane, and I'll make sure mine stay in ours, without causing any problems for either clan until this matter of a potential alliance is either confirmed or completely dismissed."

"Seems a great idea to me," Sokka said, nodding.

"Good to know you agree to these terms," Azula replied. "Continue this way, and your pet project might have a better chance at succeeding. Anyway, feel free to take your leave first."

"As you'd have it," he said.

She didn't ignore that he started walking backwards… while allowing his eyes to take in her body shape in a rather careless, lecherous manner. Her blood burned underneath her skin… and not quite because of outrage. She knew those looks… she hoped he knew them too, for she had been casting them in his direction from the moment she had seen him. Was he merely taking her in as best he could right now, in fear they might never meet again? If so…

When he turned, her eyes strayed towards his rear, settling there, admiring their perfect curves until the shroud of darkness hid his whole body away from her own, lascivious gaze. Azula smiled, despite herself, once he was gone, and once she suspected the many weapons aimed towards the location of their conversation had been withdrawn and put aside. His business proposal had been slightly more interesting than she had expected, and suddenly she wasn't quite so determined to take down the Kawakami completely as she had been before… but she would test his resolve further soon. Just how far was he willing to go to score this alliance with the Homura clan…?

"You truly believe this is worth pursuing?" Ozai asked, frowning, once Azula met with him in private on the next morning. "An alliance, with the Kawakami clan?"

"For the sake of the tebori, it may be," said Azula, breathing out slowly. "I understand your reluctance, but it is true that allying with a clan, however lesser it may be, could bring advantages in the long run. We could, presumably, manipulate the Kawakami freely if this alliance is arranged. They'll expect to gain a rise in power, by joining forces with us…"

"Not knowing we're the ones assimilating them, without their awareness?" Ozai finished. Azula shrugged.

"It's a possibility. Though Hakoda Kawakami might be wiser than we expected," Azula conceded. "He might not make it easy for the alliance to be corrupted for our benefit, but it's probably safer to have the Kawakami close by if we intend to ensure their growth doesn't go out of control after the events following the earthquake."

"It's a dangerous game… and unfortunately, we cannot simply poach the tebori artist from them, considering it's the heir," said Ozai, rolling his eyes. "The others might be fair game, but I question he would ever betray his people."

"He likened himself with a wolf," Azula said, hoping the blood wouldn't rush to her cheeks as she remembered the impossibly alluring tattoos decorating that man's powerful body. "Said he protected his pack. So… yes, corrupting him may not be easy."

"You might as well try," Ozai said. "Every man has a price, as far as I'm aware. If we can plant discord within their ranks, it'll serve for our benefit too. So… perhaps the alliance isn't the worst idea. Though you'll have to assess if the risks outweigh the possible benefits, Azula: in this case, we've lived fine without tattoos for the last years. If the potential improvements for our circumstances aren't considerable, I wouldn't go forth with this venture."

"I agree, completely," Azula said, nodding curtly. "I shall let you know what the test's results are."

"Very well," Ozai nodded, dismissing Azula.

Her next step was simple enough to perform, once she returned to her office: she searched through her database quickly, tracking down the cellphone store where Sokka had bought his burner. After a quick call, she had the number, and had ordered a phone of her own. It might be awfully inconvenient, she couldn't deny it, having a single phone to communicate with a single person… but once the messenger she sent to retrieve the package had returned with her new device, her heart was racing with excitement.

Sokka didn't think it was a good idea to sit at his parlor all day, waiting for a message to arrive, and yet that was exactly what he did. Business was slow now – who would prioritize getting a tattoo after the earthquake's devastation, really? – but he left the open sign on the door, despite knowing he'd have to turn it around as soon as Azula's chosen Homura arrived. Sokka had gone through his designs carefully, making sure to evoke the images he'd need to keep in mind, the technique, the patience… he was ready. He could do this, especially when the rise of his clan might as well depend on his performance now.

The phone rang with its new, custom beat – he had been bored enough to scour through the libraries of the device until he found one that suited him. He opened the message quickly, and smiled upon reading Azula's curt, blunt message: Send the address now.

He decided to save the number immediately, though he hesitated at which name to give the contact. Obviously, using her real name was beside the question… he smirked upon jotting down 'My Flame', and he wondered if she'd approve of it. He thought she'd liked what she'd seen yesterday… perhaps he should try to flirt some more and see if that would get them somewhere. If the alliance failed, well… sleeping with the enemy could make this whole ordeal worthwhile, regardless.

He answered the message just as directly, hoping to appear professional despite his previous, shameless attitude while picking her contact name. He wondered, briefly, if she had given him a nickname of her own… would it be an embarrassing one? Or also a teasing, flirty one? He'd love it if it were the latter…

After around fifteen minutes, the sound of a motorbike alerted him that someone was approaching. The area had been quite silent lately, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. Still, it was an extra layer of privacy that would enable him to tattoo a Homura without worrying about prying eyes, misunderstandings or rushed judgments…

The bike stopped right at before the parlor, and the rider climbed off. Sokka could see the person's silhouette through the darkened glass panels of his parlor… and he frowned lightly upon noticing the outfit wrapped around an undoubtably female body appeared to be of leather. Much like Azula's chosen attire from the previous night.

His heart nearly stopped before she pushed the door open while removing the bike's helmet: his jaw dropped, for she had come alone. She hadn't brought anyone. Which meant…

"W-wait…" he chortled, jumping off the chair he'd been sitting at. Azula slid a hand over her hair, taming it again after the previous bike ride.

"Do you have other customers? Why do I have to wait?" she asked, with a light grin.

He couldn't seem to snap out of his disbelieving amazement. He swallowed hard and stood up straight, puzzled, utterly confused… here he had been, pondering how to coax her into a new date, and she had come to him of her own volition?

"I… I'm a bit surprised, is all. You want me to tattoo you?" he asked.

"Is it the Kawakami don't tattoo their women?" Azula asked. Sokka swallowed.

"The Kawakami do a lot of things different from the Homura. I mean… my mom and my sister are part of the group, but they're not really part of the operations? Not the big ones? If that makes sense, though I've tattooed my sister's arms because she asked a few months ago… b-but that's not it!" Sokka said, looking at her with uncertainty. "You're sure you want to do this? I thought you didn't trust me."

"And why would I trust you to tattoo one of my men without making sure, personally, that you can handle the job?" Azula smirked, stepping closer. "Are you afraid of something?"

"I… no, not at all. Just… I really expected to tattoo a guy," Sokka smiled, biting his lip. "Not complaining, though, not complaining. But… well, you do realize, like I told you, this will be a long process, depending on what you want? You might have to come back a few times to get the whole thing finished, unless you wanted something small…?"

"Do I look like someone who would have a small venture in mind?" Azula asked, amused. Sokka swallowed hard but grinned. "I have an idea in mind, yes: a dragon, naturally. In a field of flames."

"Oh. Heh, well, that can be done, for sure," Sokka said, nodding positively. "How big? A sleeve, or…?"

"Hmm…" Azula tapped her chin, in deep thought as Sokka stepped towards the door: he spun the "Open" sign upon itself, and Azula smirked for it. She had him for herself now, then… all his attention would be on her body. Whatever the result might be, she couldn't quite help but rejoice in that awareness. "I think I want something quite dynamic, actually."

"Just how dynamic?" Sokka asked, curious, as he turned towards her again.

"I want this dragon across my back… shifting across it, as it may?" Azula said. Sokka raised his eyebrows appreciatively as he made his way to his desk.

"Let's see…" he said, quickly drawing the outline of a female body on a free sheet of paper.

Azula watched with curiosity as he jotted down lines expertly. She rested her body weight against the desk, and Sokka continued to sketch while keenly aware of her closeness, as well as her gaze upon him.

"How's this?" he asked. Azula hummed as she studied the design.

"Not enough, actually," she said. Sokka bit his lip. "Not that it's wrong, just… I'm looking for something slightly more complicated. Like… ah, how about if the dragon's tail starts at the base of my nake, but the body… wraps around mine? I mean, if it hugs my flank, then goes across my front…?"

"U-uh… wow," Sokka blinked blankly, but he attempted another sketch… this time of the front of her body. He hesitated at drawing her breasts, at which Azula smirked knowingly. "Well, um… sorry to be bold, but how big exactly are they?"

"Need that much information for a full design?" she asked. He grinned guiltily.

"Alright, let's just say… the dragon's body goes over your ribcage, on either side?" he said. "And below your breasts…?"

"Hmm. I guess tattooing them could be tricky," Azula reasoned, with a voice that attempted to convey an innocence she clearly lacked. Sokka bit his lip but smirked.

"I'll be blunt: I've never done that before," he laughed softly. "I figured it'd be more comfortable if it's just… around them? But you're the boss right now. You tell me."

"Hmm? So Kawakami women don't get tebori that often?" Azula asked, smirking.

"Not quite?" Sokka grinned awkwardly. "I'm not too popular yet anyways, I've only tattooed my sister with a few small designs, and… well, it is Japan, tattoos are usually frowned upon. Most my latest customers have been teenage nerds trying to look intimidating before starting college?"

"Such upstanding customers for the Kawakami heir," Azula said mockingly. Sokka snorted and laughed, his shoulders shaking with each chuckle as he lowered his head. Strangely bashful, and just so, incredibly charming…

"See why I want to tattoo your goons now?" he said. "Though… got to say, I'm not sure any of my next customers will be much to write home about after you."

"Intended to write about me, did you?" Azula smirked. "Would your family appreciate hearing about the outlandish challenges I keep forcing upon you?"

"Eh… my dad would laugh a lot," Sokka chuckled, as he continued to doodle across his new sketches. "Though you'd better be careful, eh? Don't be too impressive, or he'll start pondering other ways to establish an alliance between our clans…"

"Other ways? Such as?" Azula asked, deliberately playing dumb. Sokka stopped sketching, snorting before shooting her a meaningful stare. "What?"

"You're way too smart not to know what," he said, simply. She smirked.

"Can't say my father would agree with that notion," she said.

"Exactly. So… you know, better for us not to get any hopes up, right?" he said, with a nonchalant shrug as he returned to his design.

"Hopes? You'd actually hope for it? How ambitious of you…" Azula said, shaking her head reproachfully.

"Might not be a matter of ambition, Homura Princess…" he whispered. She shivered upon hearing him speak that nickname. "There's other reasons to marry someone besides social advancement…"

"Hmm? And what other reason could you possibly have to marry me?" she asked. Sokka smiled slowly and tapped his sketch.

"How's this one?" he asked.

Azula clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shooting him a long, meaningful, stare before turning to the paper.

"Cowardice doesn't befit you…" she said, though she froze upon glimpsing the new design: the dragon's body would slither across her collarbone and shoulders, dipping down the valley of her breasts, hugging the outline of the right before dipping down to her belly and rising again to hug the left before scurrying towards the back.

"I'm thinking… do you want claws?" he said. "Could be I could fit them… over here? Above your breasts…?"

Azula shivered at the suggestion, as he drew the lines to depict what he meant. Well, curses, she had thought he was evading the question, but he might have just intended to answer it with his artwork instead…

"It'll loop across your abdomen a couple more times, I think? And then it goes to the back," Sokka said, gesturing at the initial artwork. "Menacing snarling dragon, right? Any guy who gets you naked will think twice before doing anything out of bounds this way…"

"Sounds like a plan," Azula smirked. "You'll be the first victim of the dragon, if so, because you'll be drawing it. You'll have to tell me if it's truly that daunting."

"I'll make it as scary as I can," Sokka smiled. "So… is this good? Or do you want another attempt?"

"I… think I'd like to see the idea in a much more solid way before pushing through with this design," Azula said, biting her lip. "Do you make stencils? Or…"

"Not quite stencils, I usually draw an outline on the body," Sokka explained. "The initial outline, then I go forward with the inking of the outline, but… it's true it's probably better if you have an initial glimpse of what I've got in mind. You, uh… are comfortable with letting me doodle a mean dragon over your naked body?"

"Comfortable?" Azula repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Why… not quite. Not while we're in plain view of the street, despite those darkened glass panes of yours…"

"I wouldn't have worked with you up here," Sokka laughed, rising to his feet. "Come on. Step into my basement, why don't you?"

"You'd better not have a full regiment of nasty Kawakami goons down there, ready to eviscerate me…" Azula said, raising her head haughtily as she followed Sokka to the stairs.

He laughed again at her words as he opened the door that led to the basement, and she found she was growing quite fond of that sound… at least, her stirring lower belly was. Surely there wouldn't be a regiment of Kawakami down there, but she certainly hoped the only Kawakami within the area would be willing to do something other than just tattooing, once they were in private…

It wasn't every day she found herself so attracted by a man, let alone was it every day that she felt the urge to act upon it, let alone so boldly. Her plans for the design were a most deliberate, reckless attempt to seduce him… and she sure hoped it worked. So far, it looked like it would, but she couldn't take anything for granted…

The study downstairs was rather orderly, once Sokka flipped the light switch and revealed it before Azula's gaze. The shelves, the tattooing implements sitting in their right cases, the already-mixed inks, as well as the ingredients to mix new ones… all of it appeared angled towards the modern tattoo chair, out of place among so many traditional tools. Azula finally reached the last step, taking in the location in full, but her gaze inevitably fell upon the chair: leather, adjustable, hopefully comfortable and stable. Good.

"Alright, then… we won't be working with the proper needles yet. A painless process to begin with… then comes the true challenge," Sokka said, smiling at her. "So… mind disrobing for me, Homura Princess?"

That he dared wink at her should have been outrageous… but her whole body felt like melting chocolate because of it. Her heart skipped a beat most delightfully, and she smiled before loosening her jacket first. Sokka smiled at her, making his way to his shelves to collect the tools with which he'd start the sketches of the outline, but he dared glance at Azula again as she clasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head with one smooth movement: her pelvis tucked in lightly over the movement, her ribcage highlighted, as well as her abdomen's lean muscles. She got plenty of exercise, he realized, despite she kept such tight surveillance of the whole city… She was a true wonder, Sokka thought, snatching three different skin markers from his collection, and he didn't tear his eyes off her… not even when she tugged her belt loose and pushed down her trousers.

"W-woah…" he said, unable to hold back his smile. Azula blinked blankly in his direction. "Not that I don't appreciate those fine legs of yours… but I didn't sketch for anything in your lower body"

"You mentioned claws…" Azula said, casually. "I thought, curiously, that you probably could have the dragon's front paws over… here?"

She turned, deliberately squeezing her ass cheeks together while trailing her hands suggestively over them. Sokka's eyes damn near bulged, and he swallowed dryly as Azula gazed at him inquisitively.

"Y-you… have amazing ideas," he finally decided. Azula's knowing grin spread widely over her face.

"Thought you might appreciate that one," she said, reaching up her back to tug loose her bra.

Sokka damn near cursed himself as he tore his gaze away from her back: fool. He couldn't just tell her to turn so he could see her better. No matter if the Homura Princess had come here for many purposes beyond just getting a tattoo, he couldn't succumb to such stupid impulses. He had to play by her rules, and even if he did, he might wind up landing himself in a world of trouble. If he dared touch her, even if with her consent, she could easily turn things around and use that to her advantage to destroy the alliance before it was even formed… ugh, he kind of wanted to do it despite that risk, but he knew he needed to be cautious, to think things through. And wanting to see her breasts wasn't at all the cautious way to proceed…

But he'd see them anyway, he knew, as he heard her walking towards the chair. She snapped her tongue somewhat dismissively, and Sokka released a breath before turning to find her back to him again… she was fully naked now. No underwear, no socks, nothing. Only her ponytail remained in place, though after she had disrobed, it appeared to be falling loose: she noticed, and undid it quickly. Her hair fell in an elegant curtain across the back he'd soon tattoo, just before she pulled it together again and redid the ponytail. With her arms raised, he could see the outline of her breasts and… dammit! He had to stop!

Though it was already far too late to reel back the erection that had been growing inevitably, ever since she had first climbed off that bike. It wasn't like she was the first woman he'd seen driving one, but curses, she was sensual even in that sense. It was as though everything he had ever found desirable in a woman had been thrown together in one, extraordinary package, and now she was naked before him. Naked, and flaunting her body, as per the light slant of her hips…

"How many sweaty, disgusting fools have climbed atop this chair?" Azula asked, glancing at him over her shoulder once she had finished composing her ponytail.

"N-not that many…" Sokka said, swallowing hard. "But… I clean it every time! I do! Want me to clean it again? Because I can do it, if you're uncomfortable…"

"You'd better do it. I am uncomfortable," Azula smirked, stepping away from the chair… and again, deliberately doing so by keeping her back towards him. Sokka chewed on his cheeks as he tried to control himself: she really was going to drive him mad, at this rate.

He found his cleaning supplies, the strongest of them, and got to work. Azula was enjoying a thorough inspection of his wares in the mean time, walking barefooted – if she was so concerned with hygiene, it seemed odd she would do that when she, for one thing, didn't even need to loosen up her shoes for a tattoo that would only reach her rear… – as she waited for him to finish cleaning the chair from any lingering residues of any kind.

"Alright… I think you can do it now," Sokka smiled, climbing off the chair as he shifted the adjustable settings: it became a perfect bed, better for their purposes, he hoped.

Of course, Azula would only climb it once he was putting away his cleaning implements, and he didn't even let his damn groin protest over that: he focused on his task, giving Azula enough time to relax on the bed… before turning towards her, collecting his markers again.

"You'll have to forgive me, Princess Homura… but you'll need to turn over many times while we do this," he said, his professional voice blatantly insincere.

"Oh, dear. I guess I shall have no choice," Azula said, dramatically. He smirked.

"Shall we, then?" he said, pulling his own chair close so he could start the design.

Azula nodded awkwardly, facedown as she was.

"Go ahead," she whispered, and Sokka raised his first marker.

She had decided the tail should begin at her nape, so he began there: he'd go slowly, gradually, sketching lines of the dragon's contour and body until he reached the head, which would occupy her middle-to-lower back, much like his own tattooed wolf did – he couldn't help but think she hoped to mirror his design with her own, and it was quite a flattering gesture. He dragged the marker along expertly for the first curves of the dragon's shape, tracing it all the way until it reached Azula's right armpit, and then he returned to the beginning, depicting the spikes that should accompany the dragon's body. Then he returned one more time, to draw each scale perfectly carefully, and wherever it should be visible, the dragon's underbelly, with another marker.

And with that, it was time for her to turn around. Sokka released a breath before speaking his thoughts:

"I'll be going over the front now."

"Ah… right," Azula said, smiling as she obeyed, impossibly slowly.

Sokka swallowed dryly, and she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he did, a rather masculine, sensual gesture she was entranced by… but she supposed he was far more taken with her own, fully bare body, once she was lying on her back, arms raised so he could patch the dragon outline with the new share of art he'd decorate her body with.

"Is this okay?" she asked, innocently. Sokka jumped, as though he had been about to fall off his chair… his eyes, of course, most unprofessionally focused on her bare breasts. "Or would you rather I take up some other position?"

"N-no, no, this is… this is good," he said, with a nervous grin, as he raised his marker again. Azula, though, clicked her tongue teasingly.

"You sure? You look… uncomfortable," she said. He snorted and laughed, touching her skin with the marker's tip again.

"I… am not uncomfortable. Not in a bad sense anyway," he said. "If anything… I'm probably enjoying the view way more than any tattoo artist has any right to. Excuse me for that, if you would, Princess Homura…"

"Should I truly excuse you… Prince Kawakami?" she teased him back. He laughed, though he continued to drag the marker over her collarbone.

Azula smiled, inevitably, delighted by his reactions… by his unwillingness to back down, too. He rose up to every challenge, and seemed quite willing to acknowledge the wild thoughts that were coursing through his mind. She wondered just how long it'd take before he bit the bait… she hoped he'd do it soon, too. She wasn't sure it was advisable for anyone to have wild sex after taking several needles to the skin at a rapid pace, anyway.

Because, yes, they were going to have wild sex, one way or another. She had no intentions of leaving this parlor today without a taste of the man she was being touched and intimately studied by.

He dragged her arms down when he needed them in another position, and then doodled a quick loop over her arm… only to ask her to turn again. Azula sighed but relented, feeling him dragging the marker over her back, relaxing under that soft, wet, localized sensation… and again, she had to turn, once he was drawing the dragon's body over her other arm. Azula complied, lying on her side now, watching him intently while not subtly squeezing her breasts together in this position. His eyes traveled there on occasion, and his cheeks would heat up whenever they did: she smiled each time, but he only continued to work… until it was time for the front again, and he asked her to lie down as he brought the dragon's body down through the valley between her breasts.

"I… may need to touch them," he said. Azula gasped in feigned astonishment, and he smirked. "Just thought I'd warn you, if you needed me to…"

"Oh, my. A man, touching my chest… unfathomable," she said, teasingly. Sokka laughed and shook his head as he started on the first curve that would hug the outline of Azula's breast.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, but more than that, the knowledge that he was absolutely looking forward to touching her. She waited, impatiently, her heart drumming in her chest…

And then it happened: fingers, catching her breast's underside, raising it gently as the marker trailed below it. She wasn't imagining the way those fingers felt her skin, certainly… he was fondling her lightly, and she was starting to think she'd leave quite the wet spot on his adjustable chair after today. This simply couldn't be so exciting…

"How's it feel?" he asked, teasingly. Azula hummed.

"Wet… and cold," she replied. Sokka snorted.

"The marker?" he asked.

"What else would you have meant to ask me about?" she said, closing her eyes carelessly.

He bit back another laugh: but curses, she was beautiful. Her eyelashes, the perfect makeup applied across them, her straight nose, her full lips, her feminine, yet strong chin… He damn near distracted himself with the urge of covering her with kisses, rather than with a tattoo's initial design. He had to find a more productive way to do this, he thought to himself, and yet…

She had to turn again, as the dragon's body would loop around her back, and then return to her front. Sokka erased the unnecessary portions by dabbing alcohol on a cotton ball and wiping off the marker's previous lines. The cold liquid made Azula shiver… or she took advantage of it to deliberately shift sensually against the chair, Sokka didn't know which it was. She had hiked up her rear unnecessarily this time, and his eyes kept escaping southwards to gaze at those perfectly circular mounds, barely resisting the urge to fondle them…

But he could lightly fondle her next breast now, and so he did, once she turned again. Azula was the picture of helplessness, arms raised over her head, eyes closed, soft purrs slipping from her throat…

Oh. Oh hell, she was moments away from moaning, and he sure as heck wanted to hear that.

In a most bold, careless manner, he brushed her nipple with his thumb: Azula moaned indeed, and Sokka's pulsating erection begged for him to cut it out. If he was going to do filthy things to her, he'd better stop playing around already… but no, he couldn't. He had to finish this. The claws now, the claws…

"I'm going to have to touch them again…" he said. She bit her lip.

"M-must you…?" she asked, her voice suggestive and playful. He smiled.

"The claws will be right here… I need a proper view of the skin," he said, tapping her upper breast. Azula hummed.

"That high…?" she asked. "I thought it'd be… more over here?"

She led his fingers lower… and they brushed her nipple again. Another moan, and she opened her eyes to gaze at him wantonly as he smiled knowingly.

"It… might not be anatomically correct," he said. She bit her lip.

"What a conundrum, isn't it?" she whispered.

"And it… could hurt," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Azula smiled.

"You think a Homura doesn't know how to handle pain?" she asked. "We literally burn our bodies to prove our worth, when need be…"

"You haven't burned yours, I see," Sokka whispered, carelessly dragging his hand down her flank. Azula moaned again. "Unless… it's somewhere else?"

"I thought you'd have seen me… completely by now," Azula smiled, moaning suggestively again once his hand trailed over her thigh.

"Not completely, I admit…" Sokka whispered, leaning closer to her… just as his fingers slipped between her legs.

Azula's moan was no longer intentionally erotic: she gasped and clenched up, and Sokka hummed as his fingers dipped into her hot wetness. Her chest started to heave, and he smirked for it, guiding his marker over the rising and falling breasts to decorate them with the outline of the dragon's claws.

"Hmm… doesn't feel burned, no. If anything… quite the opposite," he smiled. Azula whimpered, lightly thrusting her body towards him. "Hmm? Oh, is this too invasive?"

"Y-yes… it is…" she smiled, closing her eyes as she thrusted again. "That's… Homura territory, you shameless Kawakami…"

"Oh, no… I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?" he said, smirking as he finished the details of the first claw, and moved to mark the second one. "I suppose I'll have to do extra work here now, won't I? Otherwise, you'll never forgive my transgression… and there'll be no alliance."

"That's… that's right," Azula moaned: his fingers were dabbing into her opening, the thumb rubbing her clit in the sweetest manner. "Do good… and… and you'll be free to enter Homura territory at will…"

"Hmm… sounds like the best deal ever," Sokka whispered, finishing the fourth claw, and moving to depicting scales now – it was, admittedly, quite difficult to focus on the art when most his body was focusing on his hand's actions upon Azula's lower body instead.

"T-then… do right by me… oh, do right by me, Sokka…" she moaned, thrusting harder, her chest still heaving terribly sensually: he wanted to see those breasts bouncing as she rode his shaft, they were more than large enough for that…

Oh, he was being so unprofessional, his master would have his hide if only he knew… and yet the woman underneath him was hotter than her last name, than everything her fire clan stood for. He couldn't be above his damn base desires… not when they were hidden away from the world in this basement, safely alone, free to be intimate, to desecrate his sacred working place… he wanted to. He absolutely wanted to.

"Alright… alright, then," he said, smirking as his face hovered right above hers.

Azula's lips parted, and she seemed to be about to catch his lips with her own… but he pulled away, to her chagrin. Where the hell did he think he was going…?

She got the answer upon sensing a sudden, wet, warm pressure around her nipple: his breath brushed against it just before he sucked for the first time, and Azula didn't hold back her loud cries of passion. Oh, he was the worst, the absolute worst, and she just loved it. She was perfectly used to seducing men whenever she felt like it, to being the object of someone's desire, for she had been that for many of her father's henchmen over the years… but she always had the urge to enforce her authority, her strength, her control and superiority. This time… oh, this time she didn't even want to. Not with a man who was fingering her most recklessly, sucking on her breast persistently before switching to the other.

"T-the… t-the marker's ink won't… c-come off, will it…?" Azula moaned, as Sokka's strong body loomed closer to hers.

"No… and if it does, I'll do it again," he smiled, speaking between loud suctions of her nipple. He was a shameless bastard, truly… and she wanted more of that. So much more of that…

"Will you… wind up devouring my breasts again… if that happens?" Azula asked.

"Would you like that…?" he moaned against her chest.

He was covering her breasts in light nibbling as he pointedly avoided the places he had traced with his marker. Oh, he would've loved to cover her chest with kisses, but at risk of intaking chemicals he shouldn't, he'd have to hold back until her full set was done… ah, by then, once she was fully rested and recovered, she would be even more sensual than she already was, with her soul's dragon bearing its fangs, threatening any and all unwanted menaces… but he had wolves that could fight the dragon, just as well. They would clash and collide, and sleep together as many times as she allowed it… he sure hoped it'd be about a thousand times. Just this much was as exciting as could be…

"Yes… yes I would, I… don't stop… don't stop…" Azula moaned, thrusting lightly against his hand. "Ah! D-don't, please, don't…!"

Her urgency compelled him to drill into her with his fingers, going harder than before: his other hand held her wrists, which she had helpfully raised over her head. She was completely at his mercy, and the powerlessness appeared to turn her on so badly she couldn't stand it. With a few more powerful thrusts of his hand, and that thumb ever prodding and exploring her sensitive clit, Azula came undone with loud cries. Sokka smirked as he returned to kissing and sucking her nipple, chuckling maliciously as he continued driving into her, harder, rougher, without any restraint. Azula trembled on the chair, her voice failing her when the second peak arrived soon after the first, tearing through her violently, so much her body seemed to shatter… and yet it didn't. And perhaps because it didn't, her wicked lover had decided to keep going, bringing her to the brink one more time as she screamed, completely losing control while writhing under his hand.

Sokka slowed at the third peak, laughing deviously as his lips hovered over her left breast. She was sweating now, and even that was exciting as hell. Nothing about her could be unappealing, as far as he could tell…

He raised his head slowly, his mischievous smirk found by her misty gaze as she shivered violently still, her legs spread, her lips parted.

"Y-you… y-you just…" she said, and he raised an eyebrow cockily.

"Want me to do that again?" he asked. "Got a few more tricks up my sleeve, but if you want more…"

"You're… mad," she said, furthering his amusement. "Doing this… to your tattoo customer…"

"It's a first for me, if you really want to know," he chuckled. "Like I said… most my customers aren't exactly my type."

"And I am?" Azula smiled, despite the heat of the situation was still overwhelming for her.

"You? I think you've completely torn down every standard I thought I had… and rewritten them all on your own," Sokka whispered, rising until his face was level with hers. "If this makes our alliance impossible… well, woops. I'll have to tell my dad I mucked it up. But damn, I… I really want to have sex with you."

"Y-you… you perverted man," Azula smiled, closing her eyes in obvious delight. Sokka snickered.

"Don't like perverts much, do you…?" he asked, prodding her nose with his own.

"Not usually, no," she said. "But… you're on a league of your own, looks like."

"I'm worse than the others?" Sokka smirked.

"Yeah… because you're good at this, they aren't," Azula smiled. Sokka laughed, pressing his brow to hers just before diving for a kiss…

But her hand darted to his chest and clasped it hard, just as his upper lip touched hers, and she forced him to climb the chair by flipping them around: it was him below her suddenly, and she was the one above, chest still heaving, face still flushed, hair falling out of that ponytail again… but this time she didn't seem to mind that much.

"Az-…" he said, but her fingers landed on his lips.

"I… will return the favor," she smiled, dragging her fingers down to his shirt – he was wearing a perfectly casual outfit today, though the long sleeves prevented her from seeing the beautiful tattoos he sported over his arms.

She dragged herself down his body, pushing his shirt off in an urgent hurry – Sokka intended to help her tug it off but it was no use when Azula stopped once the shirt was at his neck's level: his chest and abdomen were fully exposed, and she needed to devour them at haste.

Sokka snorted, laughing as he struggled to pull off the shirt in the awkward situation she had left him in, with his elbows awkwardly stuck while only his lower jaw had slid under the shirt's neck.

"You… you're into bondage, are you?" he laughed. Azula, busy lavishing his strong chest with long, sucking kisses, only moaned in response. "Oh, hell, that's good…"

Her hands didn't help him with his upper body's struggle: instead they were undoing his belt, shoving off his trousers forcefully, and as her teeth nibbled teasingly down his defined abs – they were just as delightful as she had thought yesterday, damn him – she continued to move south until she reached his underwear-clad groin. Sokka gasped when her lips pressed a kiss over the fabric at first, and he groaned once she cupped his testicles with one hand, the other massaging his manhood while her lips continued to teasingly unravel his full girth: she wore lipstick, didn't she? She was going to stain his underwear with it? Oh, that should be a completely ridiculous thought and yet his very hard cock seemed more erect because of it.

"Y-you sure love… to tease a man," Sokka growled, finally tossing his shirt aside, and Azula snickered as she tugged the hem of his boxers.

"Be… rough," Azula advised him. Sokka smirked. "Not to the point of killing me, of course, but… use my mouth as you please. Alright?"

"You don't know restraint of any sort, do you…?" he asked, and Azula's smile reflected his own.

"We're yakuza, aren't we? We don't play nice and sweet," she said, teasingly, as she tugged the garment down, enough to expose his large erection. She licked her lips. "My, my, someone's enjoying himself…"

"Mind you… this is the best tattoo session I've ever had, so yes, I am," Sokka chuckled. Azula smirked and winked at him.

"It's about to get better," she said.

She leaned down, engulfing his cock with her mouth in one quick motion: Sokka cried out, throwing his head back against the cushioned chair's headrest, for Azula had taken him in deeply enough for his tip to press against the roof of her mouth. She didn't ease up in the least, bobbing her head back and forth while seeking his hand… placing it on her hair. She had asked for it rough, hadn't she? Sokka gritted his teeth and hoped she wouldn't change her mind.

His fingers dug into her hair as he started thrusting upwards: to his surprise, his thrusting compelled her to moan, in time with his own groans: one of her hands toyed with his ball sack, the other snaked upwards, touching all those strong, tense muscles that had charmed her since that day in the park. She wanted him to break her if he wished, to show her just how strong he was, how much pleasure he could provide a woman… and he sure had showed her plenty before, but she was greedy enough to want more. She sucked him eagerly, thoroughly, basking in every perfect ridge of his body, whether related to his pulsating manhood or his strong abs… and then he grew more savage, thrusting harder, faster, and she focused exclusively on the cock inside her mouth, doing her best not to choke, to continue breathing through her mouth, to enjoy his powerful thrusting as his hands messed her hair and kept her in place…

"I'm… I'm close… I'm close, hell, I'm gonna…!" he gasped, thrusting harder, more urgently: Azula helped by sucking in a quick, violent rhythm, and suddenly a hot liquid sprayed the back of her throat.

Oh, it tasted terribly and yet she relished in receiving it. She laughed as she sucked some more, aiding the still-thrusting Sokka to find his ultimate release, and that he did: he soon flopped on the chair, breathing heavily, his arms falling to the side as his eyes rolled closed.

"You… are something else, Princess Homura…" he whispered.

"Hmm, you are wild when you want to be… I like that, Prince Kawakami," Azula announced, smirking as she pressed soft kisses to the side of his manhood. Sokka chuckled and sighed in bliss, relishing in the continuous oral pleasure she offered him.

"I… want to return the favor too," he said, smiling. "I bet you taste amazing…"

"Hmm, you gross pervert… wanting to taste and smell my privates, what has the world come to?" she said, before taking a deep breath and licking his flaccid cock thoroughly, enough for it to twitch gently as she smirked. "Oh, wait a second…"

Sokka laughed, sitting up to reach for her and tug her towards him. Azula relented despite herself, sighing upon being taken away from the most delightful cock she had ever been acquainted with. His hands fell right to her rear, cupping each cheek, and Azula hummed before grinding her bare body against his.

"Want something?" she asked, casually.

"You," he said, and his hand reached up to fist her hair before he pressed a powerful, open-mouthed kiss to her lips.

Azula moaned, surrendering to the kiss quickly: his invasive tongue danced and twirled around hers, and her heart raced faster and faster as it did. It felt so good to kiss him, just as good as she had hoped it would, as she allowed him to claim her thoroughly for himself… and no doubt, it had to feel good for him too, considering he couldn't seem to stop – he only let her catch her breath for a second before nibbling on her lower lip, or trailing his tongue across her mouth, a smooth battering ram demanding access it was granted instantly: she really liked this overwhelming feeling, as his hands fondled her every curve, at first her ass, slowly her waist, then her breasts again…

"I'm going to eat you," he whispered. She moaned against his lips.

"Thought you already were…" she said. Sokka snickered before slipping off the chair, only to flip their positions anew.

It was he who sat at the edge of the chair now, balancing himself skillfully while Azula, boldly, knowingly and shamelessly, wrapped her legs around his neck and urged him to dive into her perfectly waxed core: with the same skill as with his hands before, Sokka toyed with her clit and unraveled, quite quickly, the places she needed his touch most in, by the urgency of her moans, to the point of near becoming screams. She wouldn't stop urging him onwards, spurring him to continue, whispering many surprisingly dirty phrases in the process. Sokka couldn't contain occasional laughs upon hearing those, and when he gazed up to look at his delightful lover, she'd meet his eyes just the same, her lips parted as though waiting for his to claim them anew…

Oh, he was in real trouble if he kept on in this path. No doubt he wasn't supposed to be having sex with Ozai Homura's prized golden daughter… but more than that, he had a feeling he wouldn't have enough with a single outing. And damn, he hoped neither would she.

He needed to make sure she wouldn't have enough, of course: and as her not-so-dormant excitement rose anew, while Sokka's tongue traveled mischievously across her wet folds, a new peak neared and Azula had half a mind to give herself to it completely…

"Y-you should… ah – you should come here, and… and go for it. S-Sokka… Sokka…"

Ah, she wanted him to go inside her already? He was hard enough to try… but he wanted her to ask again. He wanted her to beg, for some twisted, ridiculous reason…

"Please…? Sokka, I can't hold it… I-I'm going to…!" she said: the words surprised him, for he hadn't expected she'd be so close.

But as irresponsible as it might be to disregard her prior request, he refused to let her lose a perfectly good orgasm if he eased up now. So he didn't slow down, and instead devoured her even more ravenously… and he was rewarded by an onslaught of sex juices that he could develop an addiction for, from that day forward. He groaned happily, caressing her thighs erotically, and Azula whimpered in a sensual way as she flopped, helpless, on the chair.

"You… you kept going… when I told you to fuck me…" she said. He had still been face-first up her core, but he pulled away to glance at her somewhat apologetically.

"I wanted to tease you for a bit," he admitted. "B-but I just didn't think you were that close. When I realized you were, well… I didn't want your orgasm to be unfulfilling."

"You…" Azula whispered… and then a smile spread over her face. "You're good. Better than good."

"You think?" he smiled awkwardly.

"What kind of man… doesn't jump at the chance of putting his cock inside me as soon as I offer the chance?" Azula laughed. "But you… you'd rather make sure I have all the pleasure I can have. Do you realize what a rarity you are…?"

"Eh, I did suspect I was one of a kind," Sokka smirked, winking at Azula before leaning close to kiss her abdomen. "Glad I didn't fuck up, I thought I might have…"

"You were amazing," Azula decided, releasing him from her grip.

"You're even more amazing," he whispered as he kissed his way up to her collarbone, avoiding the lines his marker had trailed over her body. Azula moaned and caressed his back.

"How do you want… to do this?" she asked.

"Four orgasms… and you still want more," Sokka smirked. "I like you. A lot."

"I like you too. That's why I want more," Azula smiled. "Well? Any special requests…?"

"Ride me," he asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Azula groaned and kissed him harder, urging him to switch with her again on the chair.

"You want me to like you more and more… don't you? Surrendering control to me…" Azula smiled, nibbling on his lip as she pressed him down on the chair while straddling his hips. "And the weirdest part is… I don't mind it much, when you're in control. Most other men are just…"

"No good?" Sokka smirked arrogantly. Azula huffed.

"More than a little full of themselves," she declared. Sokka snickered. "They assume they're good even before they've brought me to the brink the first time… it makes no sense, does it? Pretending you're good at sex without any basis…"

"Might be they're just no good for you…" Sokka suggested, kissing her jawline softly. "Might be, and this is just a wild guess… that you're better off with someone who takes his time to figure out where you want your clit to be prodded?"

"Hmm… yes," Azula moaned, pressing her chest to his. Sokka snickered. "Someone who likes to do naughty things when he's supposed to be a very professional tattoo artist…"

"Well, excuse me for my shamelessness," Sokka whispered, clamping his hands at either of her ass cheeks. Azula moaned again for it. "I'm a work in progress, clearly…"

"Shame on you…" Azula said, swaying her body against him. "Whatever shall I do? Will all our sessions turn out like this, I wonder?"

"Would that be so bad?" Sokka smiled. Azula bit her lip and grinned too.

"No. Definitely not," she laughed, kissing him and sliding into position.

With as many orgasms as she had enjoyed so far, it was only natural that Azula would fit Sokka's sizeable manhood without so much as flinching: he stretched her sensitive walls in a marvelous way, and she arched her body forward over the pleasure. Sokka grinned lecherously, playfully toying with her nipples, and Azula's moans only grew louder and more lustful because of it. She wanted everything he could give her, without holding back…

"You feel… so damn good," he laughed, with that charming smile she had been taken by from the moment she had first seen it. Azula purred again, thrusting forward and causing him to gasp. "A-Azula…"

"You feel good… inside me, too," she smirked, her long nails scraping his shoulders as she braced herself for thrusting again.

She took to a steady rhythm, one Sokka followed fit with: his eyes remained utterly entranced by the bouncing breasts before him, which enticed him to grope and fondle them before long. Azula's string of moans continued as she thrusted harder, recklessly chasing further excitement as Sokka's caresses only aided her in that particular pursuit: she would sway her body sensually, grinding her pelvis into him, her clit brushing delightfully against his skin and prompting her to moan further.

He filled her so well, to the hilt, and she wanted nothing but to keep him there forever. All this sex was probably not the best preamble for a tattoo, considering her skin would be extra sensitive because of it… but she thrived in the feeling of that cock tearing her walls down, smashing through her powerfully, threatening to wrestle control she found herself wanting to relinquish to him. If she couldn't keep going, she sure hoped he'd continue for her…

Sokka's hands had stayed on Azula's breasts, his palms almost tickled by the nipples that brushed against them. By now, though, his impulsive greedy lust overcame him: he sat up on the chair, tugging the controls expertly to recline the backrest. Comfortably sitting now, Sokka tugged her closer, making her spread her legs as far as she could while he penetrated her powerfully, covering her lips with eager kisses.

He had made his move at the right time, of course: Azula could barely hold herself back now, trembling as she felt a new peak looming closer. She was sure she hadn't ever reached so many climaxes in her life, and she absolutely relished in it, diving into Sokka's mouth with her tongue as her needy moans conveyed that she was at her limit. Yet again, Sokka only moved faster, harder, thrusting almost frantically inside her until Azula's long nails dug into his skin as she came with the strongest burst of pleasure yet. Oh, she couldn't even feel herself anymore, she was nothing but a huge blanket of aroused bliss, and he still wouldn't stop thrusting, still he kept going, rubbing his cock powerfully against the walls that tried to milk it. And milk it they would, but not until he was ready to relinquish his conquest: he had incredible self-restraint, capable of going forth with the wild tryst without losing himself to the swarms of pleasure. He'd give in eventually, yes he would, but he would last as long as he could, he would give her as many orgasms in a row as he could muster… and by her erotic moans against his mouth, their wild kissing interrupted as she struggled to catch her breath, he was probably close to getting her another one already.

Azula nearly screamed when the second peak came, and Sokka relished in her exposed neck, only to then move lower, to her chest anew. His voracious, lascivious kisses made it more than clear that he wanted her, all of her, and he'd stop at nothing to show it… yet, again, when Azula's third peak loomed closer – and she was seeing shapes dancing in her eyesight now, her whole body appeared to be both lighter than ever and heavier, somehow – Sokka couldn't hold back any longer: he released himself inside her just before her climax was triggered, and the shuddering inner walls around his cock squeezed him marvelously as he gave himself to her wildly, roughly, thrusting hard as his flesh slapped against hers, their sweaty bodies making magic wherever they might be joined.

He only stopped once her walls stopped shuddering too, and even then they lightly rocked together, grinding their bodies, kissing each other long, deep and slow, now that the surging passion had peaked. Azula clung to embracing him, comfortable by pressing her chest into his… and clearly Sokka wasn't about to complain for the delightful sensation of her nipples brushing his skin. His hands clasped her rear, keeping her in place, teasing her with light squeezes.

"That's… how a Kawakami tattoos his customers, then?" Azula asked between kisses, smiling teasingly. He snickered.

"Only the ones hotter than the earth's core, I'd say," he whispered, pressing his lips across her jawline.

"Hmm… so I got the premium package, did I?" Azula asked, fingers sliding into his hair. He chuckled again as he kissed his way up to her cheek.

"You're the sexiest woman that ever lived," he said, thrusting teasingly – despite he was flaccid now, they had remained in the same position, and the friction between their bodies still made Azula moan suggestively. "Say… we do need to work on the tattoo, don't we?"

"Mmm… maybe…" she moaned, sighing as she melted into his very physical teasing.

"You think you could, maybe… tell your people I'm a very devoted artist, and I've asked that we pull as many all-nighters as necessary to get the full tattoo done?" he said, smiling teasingly.

"Ah? You're asking me to stay with you?" Azula asked, amused. "For how long?"

"Until the job's done?" he said, stroking her hair. "I literally live on the second floor. We can just…"

"Go up there to rest. Have some more sex, then head back down here, work, have more sex on your fancy chair…?" Azula proposed, smirking. Sokka laughed. "You'd better do an amazing job with the tattoo, you know? Otherwise they'll all know I'm just sleeping with you."

"I'll do my best," he promised, kissing her lips softly again. "So? You'll… stay?"

"Oh, I don't know. What will I wear?" she asked, teasingly.

"On the most part… nothing," he smirked. "But if you really want to… I can lend you my things."

"Can you… at least tattoo me while shirtless?" she asked, biting her lip. "I'm sure having some really good eye-candy will make this whole process way smoother and much more enjoyable for me…"

"I wouldn't say no to anything that pleases an upstanding lady like yourself…" he replied, caressing her thigh suggestively. Azula smiled and kissed him again.

"This is quite the promising start for the Homura-Kawakami alliance," she said. Sokka snickered, stealing another kiss from her lips.

"I knew you could be persuaded to join us. With the right leverage," Sokka smirked. "Alright… I think I should order something for lunch now. We can keep going after, if you want? For now…"

"Keep going with what? Sex or tattoos?" Azula asked. Sokka snickered.

"With you, I'm not sure what's the difference," he said, and she smirked while biting her lip, a most sensual gesture he topped off with a kiss. "You're so beautiful…"

"You're as handsome as can be too, if you must know…" she smiled, resting her head upon his shoulder. "And such a handsome man will kidnap me for days… It's probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to me, and I don't even live a boring life."

"It's about to get even less boring," Sokka smiled, kissing her fiercely. "I can promise you that."

And while she usually didn't trust people, Azula believed him. She trusted him when he offered to take pictures of her body to document the whole process – she even posed suggestively for him, making him laugh and sending pleasant shivers through his groin. They ate together, once the food Sokka ordered arrived – noodles, hers were extra spicy, and she attempted to kiss him after, but he knew better than to let her, knowing it was a dangerous trap. It proved a helpful tool, for only this way could Sokka pull off the full outline of the tattoo without distracting himself… or rather, distracting himself too much.

Only the outline was done by the evening, and as Azula's spicy meal was no longer a cause for concern, Sokka picked up his new lover and carried her up to his room, in the upper floor. And there he had raunchy sex with her anew, seeking, as ever, to make her climax as many times as possible. They both fell asleep while wrapped together, limbs interlocked, lips breathing mere inches from the other.

And that was how their whole week proceeded: they would work in the mornings, take a break before lunch, work again afterwards, then stop for the day and do anything they wished with each other. And as strange as it was to basically live together for a week, by the time the finishing touches were done, Sokka was almost sorry to finish Azula's luxurious tattoo.

It was exactly as she had wanted it, with the dark, black dragon as good as watching her back, while hugging her body sensually. Flames burst around the creature's body, and where it could have been a threat, Sokka thought it was but a sign of how intensely hot his lover was. She sat on his chair, fully naked, as he tapped in more ink at her lower belly, and Azula sighed as she wished this could have lasted a little longer…

"You can always get another set of tattoos, if you want them," Sokka suggested, stealing a kiss from her lips. "I'll love to close up shop and not talk to anyone but you for a week again…"

"Hmm, don't tempt me," Azula smiled, pressing her brow to his. "Is it done now?"

"Just… one more thing," Sokka said. "Where should I put my signature?"

"Ah? You'll sign my body, will you? And here I thought this whole art piece was a way of saying you own me…" she smirked. Sokka laughed and shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure no one can ever claim they own you, fierce Homura Princess," he said, cupping her cheeks to kiss her lips softly. "Though, if you do see this whole tattoo as a way to brand you as mine, well…"

"I think it's sensual to see it that way," Azula whispered, kissing his cheek. "One day… you'll have to teach me. And then… I can tattoo you somewhere, and add my signature so everyone knows that you're branded as mine, too."

"Sounds perfect," Sokka smirked. "Tattoo marriage, of a sort?"

"It's fine by me," she laughed.

Sokka smiled and kissed her, before nudging her to lie down again. Where to set the signature…? The question had pestered him for at least two days, but he guessed Azula herself would be the one to decide the location…

"Should be on the back, right?" Azula said, biting her lip teasingly. "I guess… here?"

She tapped her coccyx, and Sokka smiled before rolling his eyes and getting to work. Azula laughed, knowing that, if anyone saw the suggestive signature, the nature of her relationship with the Kawakami heir would be more than obvious… oh, but why bother hiding it? As it was, they were clearly going to do this again, and again, and many more times…

She had been startled by the pain despite being prepared, the first time he had used the actual needles. By now it was almost familiar, the initial sting, the liquid sensation as the ink settled, the light swelling that settled across her skin. She was going to emerge from this tattoo parlor a whole different person, she knew, and once Sokka finished setting his signature, he covered the rest of her back with soft kisses, reaching all the way to her nape.

"You know… it's pretty late," he whispered, reaching her face. Azula smiled as he kissed the very curvature of her mouth's corner. "Maybe… you can stay one more night?"

"If you hadn't asked, I would've likely demanded to stay anyway," she smiled. Sokka chuckled. "I hope I look extra appealing to you now, lover…"

"I want to ravish you immediately even though the ink's not fully settled," Sokka laughed, kissing the side of her head. "You're something, you know? Most people take it easy after being tattooed… you basically just determined which position we'd fuck in depending on what I'd inked each day, eh?"

"You can call it what it is: genuine wisdom," Azula smiled, and Sokka laughed again. "Ah, but I really will miss this… miss you."

"You don't have to," Sokka said, stroking her hair. "We'll have an alliance soon, right?"

"Oh, yes," Azula smiled. Sokka chuckled.

"Then, see? We'll see each other again. For work, maybe? But then again, this was supposed to be work, so…"

"I guess," Azula said, reaching up to cup his face. "Didn't think this weird ordeal would land me a lover, but… I'm glad it did."

"I'm glad it landed me one, too," Sokka said, kissing her wrist softly. "Here I thought I'd have to give up my dreams of dating the hottest woman in the world one day, but heh, turns out they came true anyway…"

"Well, I sure can't complain either," Azula smiled as she eyed his body hungrily. "My lover is god-like, as far as I can tell…"

Sokka chuckled, kissing her again as he continued to offer her gentle affections: the final stroke was done now, and with it, all the implications of their shared bond, their mischievous crime. They'd have to keep the relationship quiet, for Ozai surely wouldn't approve… but Azula wasn't scared, for some reason. Perhaps life outside the Homura clan had appeared unfathomable, for a time… but now she had lived life with the Kawakami heir, no less, if just for a week. And perhaps such unfathomable possibilities were no longer so difficult to envision…

Sokka returned to the Kawakami headquarters to many questions that turned into loud applause when he announced the tattooing process had been a total success. Azula, of course, had returned to find the Homura clan was bordering on chaos without her active, constant surveillance, for as hard as he had tried to fill in for her, Zuko hardly knew how to handle the many cameras deftly. She had been welcomed gladly… though Ozai had been astonished when she had suggested he pulled through with the alliance suggestion.

"I know it sounds mad, but… his strokes and technique are truly quality work," Azula assured Ozai. "We could benefit from this alliance. We haven't had an tebori artist for a long time, so…"

"So, I take it the Kawakami boy is a seasoned professional ink artist?" Ozai asked, unamused. Azula nodded enthusiastically, though the word 'professional' certainly wasn't one her father would use if only he knew they'd indulged in so much wild, hot and relentless sex… "If you're impressed, then I suppose everyone will be. That being said, I need to know their full terms. Are you still in touch with the boy?"

"I can reach out, yes," Azula confirmed – no, she hadn't scheduled to meet him that night at his parlor to celebrate the likely success of their endeavor, of course not… "Shall I organize a meeting, then?"

"Please, do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "An alliance with the Kawakami clan… well, I suppose we could do worse than that."

Azula deeply hoped he'd stick to that mentality, though there was no telling if he would, let alone if he found out she was doing her tattoo artist… but for now, it was a victory. One she'd be quick to tell her 'ink prince', as she had named his contact on her phone, as soon as she had a chance to.

A week later, a silent, elegant meeting took place at a predilect bar of Ozai's. He and Hakoda sat together at the head of their table's long room, discussing the minutiae of the alliance, while many of their closest associates watched: Zuko was there, tense, constantly eyeing the Kawakami as though he feared they might try to kill him. Katara, of course, kept shooting glares at him for his distrustful attitude, which resulted in just extra anxiety for the Homura heir. No matter how many times Kya asked Katara to cut it out, her daughter wouldn't budge.

And Azula and Sokka shot each other stern, serious glares whenever anyone else caught sight of them… and traded light smiles, occasional touches, whenever no one noticed. After half an hour, Sokka had excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to pace to stretch his legs. He approached the spot Azula stood at… and slipped a hand, most imperceptibly, towards the spot his signature had been branded at. Azula remained most impassive, until some discussion over taxes bored her enough to glance at Sokka with a teasing smile as well.

"Want me to order you a drink?" he asked. "For old times' sake, my first Homura customer?"

"Should be me ordering you one, you set this whole mess in motion," Azula assessed. Sokka chuckled.

"Guess that's one way to look at it," he grinned. "About, well, tonight–…"

"Whatever happens now… I'll go once I can give everyone the slip," Azula interrupted him, eagerness plain on her face. Sokka grinned back.

"Then I'll be waiting," he said. "Seems we keep having things worth celebrating, eh?"

"That we do," Azula smiled…

And her hand slipped to Sokka's tailbone just the same, prompting him to laugh quietly as they both indulged in their mischievous, private moment despite standing in public view. They had no doubts their wild, raunchy, tumultuous, dangerous affair was only just beginning… and as much as they knew strife, chaos, and much darkness could loom in the horizon, a moment as bright as this one, of an alliance cemented between clans, was meant to be cherished, just as another bond strengthened between two driven, talented, likeminded lovers, who couldn't wait to discover what their newly entwined destinies might just have in store…

[savrenim]

omg i can't believe you replied-- i'm so starstruck right now! and wow, your reply is so long, like i said i would have been perfectly happy if you'd just said: "no" but you actually put in the effort to write such a long reply?? so thank you. alright now: i had no idea about ur original book, and I am so excited to read Opus I will buy it as soon as I can. 'm really excited for it now too, lol! will recommend it to all of my friends. running out space will add more on another ask

ok its me again. hi! i want to read honestly everything you said you'll write in your list of projects, but mostly Opus and witch-queen! actually sounds amazing! i will definitly try out ur book, esp if it's free-- and i have NO doubts that lots of other people will too! i'd buy it. and thank you-- for being so nice to your readers and writing projects that have literally make all the difference in people's lives and still carrying on even though there's not a lot of response. --carried on--

thank you for offering a bit of closure for itfmlam and all in all just being an amazing person. thank you thank you thank you! i... don't know what to say anymore, i'm not very good with words but, yeah. thank you. (and i expect that i WILL love opus-- gay and ploitics and Seers - yes! - all sound like they make a wonderful novel!)

yeah the tumblr ask system is ridiculous but also it is very fun to receive a bunch of asks in a row because The Ask System Is Ridiculous, it's almost a big "DnD joke sending Sending and running out of the 25 words because you don't plan your message ahead of time and keep babbling so keep re-casting the spell" sort of mood and I love it

I am really really glad that there is Someone out there who will give Opus a try which if you've read a beating heart of stone you've already met Saes and Luka which abhos is already so funny because, like. they're both in character for their circumstances but Saes will appear so different in the novel bc her circumstances are that different in the novel but I am. so, so excited about it. there are just so many tiny things that I love. it has The Gay. it has Enemies To Ride Or Die BFFs Speedrun. it has both Actual Intricate Fun Backroom Deals Backstabbing Politics and also Dramatic Duels To Settle Things a la “You know, I can hear you thinking that our government is fucked up and archaic. You can say it to my face.” “I was trying to be polite.” “You are forgetting one very very important detail. We have the defense of ‘we will beat you in a fistfight, therefore we are right and you are wrong.’” “Your government is incredibly convenient to me in particular and also fucked up and archaic.” it has 'so many of these characters are sassy little shits' as evidenced by the previous dialogue. it has 'if I've done this right it will start out feeling like okay fast-paced fun action and then you get like ten chapters in and PSYCHE there are Feelings shit just got Real'. it has such a weird fun civilization and culture that I made from scratch with a conlang where pronouns are not gendered but instead assigned by the speaker to the person that they're talking about based on the amount of respect the speaker has for that person and New Fun Verb Moods like not you've heard of the indicative but consider: the aggressive-indicative. it has the red/blue/gold system. it has an actual really cool looking cover that I commissioned from a friend bc they do that, they do the art thing professionally, so even though this is a self-published and ebook-free-I'll-probably-set-up-a-paperback-on-lulu-or-something-which-obvi-isn't-free-but'll-be-the-cheapest-it-can sort of deal it looks really cool and looks real and makes me feel like a real writer. and you just. aaaaah. have no idea how excited it makes me to hear that There Is An Audience Outside My Friends Who Have Had To Live With Me Ranting About This Nonstop For Four Years That Is Willing To Read This.

(also thrilled that someone will give witch-queen a try, it's weird and so few people like 2nd person writing but it is definitely a project that I am very excited about. given that it's probably going to be under 20k words it is also the sort of thing that will be finished very quickly the moment that I sit down to actually write it. the premise is intensely funny to me bc it is 1000% my reaction to watching an old B-list movie again that was a fave as a kid that I will probably admit to what said movie was on my patreon eventually but not out here in public and then finding in Wikipedia that it had a whole knock-off franchise except they totally in between movies 1 and 2 fridged the main love interest off-screen not even for angst just to I guess replace her with a new love interest and I was like. okay. what if. what if I write a revenge piece of fiction. where you have someone in her exact setup except then instead of being fridged offscreen through sheer spite and genre-savviness you have this queen who is just. aggressively avoiding the attempts of the narrative to assassinate her via refusing to participate in tropes that would end up with her dead and actually being scarily competent and it's weird but I also love it as a concept and do somewhat miss writing in 2nd person, I used to do it all the time when I worked at gay theater camp and wrote hundreds of thousands of words of character sheets for larps and anyways I'm ranting but witch-queen is fun and I'm ridiculous and self-indulgent enough and stubborn enough to bring it into the world)

and!! yeah!! very glad to have been able to answer!! I try to answer all of my asks, especially because they are currently at a Very Reasonable Volume, I am super grateful to receive them and so long as I have time I try to answer!!

[musette22]

Body Politics

Read on AO3

Paring: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Word count: 9.4k

Rating: E (so 18+ only please!)

A/N: Okaayyy! So it took a while, but I finally wrote the thing based on this prompt (which I unfortunately accidentally deleted, but I saved the prompt itself):"hello! I saw some pics of chris with various politicans for his new project and thought about a stucky/evanstan fic in which chris/steve wants to film a clip with a newly elected senator who turns out to be bucky/seb and chris/steve just can't deal with the hotness." 

It’s… a bit longer than I intended it to be - surprise! As always, I’ve posted it to AO3 and I’d recommend reading it there because it really is quite long (that’s what she said). Hope you enjoy the filth 💖 N.B. I know you asked for Senator Sebastian, but it seemed to fit better with the story to make him a Representative instead! Hope that’s ok!

Body Politics

Chris has done dozens of these videos by now. In fact, he did two of them just this morning. He knows the drill, he knows what he’s doing, there’s really no reason to be nervous anymore. And yet, as per usual right before he’s going in, his anxiety is peaking, causing him to feel jittery and queasy, and like he’s suddenly forgotten everything he’s supposed to know about the American political system.

God, he’s going to make a massive fool of himself. What the fuck was he thinking? Should’ve just stayed in his lane, like plenty of people told him to. He sighs at his reflection in the mirror, splashing his face with cold water in the hope it will help him focus.  

“Ready?” Mark asks him, as soon as he steps out into the hallway where Mark had been waiting for him.

“Absolutely,” Chris nods, all put on confidence and ease which he definitely isn’t feeling. “Let’s do this.”

Mark is well aware how bad Chris’s anxiety tends to get before this sort of thing, but he doesn’t comment. He knows Chris will be fine as soon as the cameras turn on and he can stop being Chris Evans, meatball and anxious mess, and start being Chris Evans, movie star and aspiring politician – or, as most people view him, real life Captain America. Chris doesn’t mind that image so much. He’s proud of what he’s done with the character and besides, Steve Rogers is a better man than he’ll ever be. Sometimes it’s a little frustrating when people seem to be more excited about meeting Cap than about what it is Chris is there to discuss with them – things that are important not only to him personally, but to the fate of the entire country. But on the flipside, his Cap persona has opened a lot of doors for him, and that makes the occasional flare of irritation more than worth it. Politicians and civil servants are just people too, after all. Well. Most of them.

Today, Chris is meeting with Democratic Representative Sebastian Stan. Stan is quite new on the Hill, and Chris was doubtful whether meeting with him would be worthwhile. But Mark had said he’d heard good things about the guy, plus he was willing to meet with them, so Chris had decided to give him a chance. Since it was all quite last minute, he hadn’t really had time to do much research on Stan and just read the notes that Mark had sent him earlier this morning. 

Chris was impressed with the guy’s resume, and despite his usual nerves he was quite looking forward to speaking with him. It was undoubtedly going to be better than interviewing some stuffy old Republican. Again. Chris is well aware that he signed up for this whole bipartisan thing himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally get the urge to throw hands when he hears someone like Ted Cruz or Dan Crenshaw spout their conservative bullshit.

Chris walks into the office that’s set up like a small film set: two simple folding chairs set up on a worn rug in front of some antique, mahogany cabinets, giving the appearance of nonchalant sophistication. Next to the chairs are some studio lights and reflectors, and two cameras, one behind each chair.  

Mark takes a seat on the far end of the room, there to observe and chime in if necessary, while Chris hikes up the knees of his dress pants before sits down on one of the folding chairs. He crosses his legs, tapping his pen against the papers resting on his knee while they wait for Representative Stan to arrive.

After a minute or two, the door behind Chris opens, and he gets up, ready to greet the Representative. He turns with a smile, which freezes on his face as he comes face to face with the guy he’s supposed to be interviewing.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

The thought flits through Chris’s mind, unbidden and very, very inappropriate, under the circumstances.

It’s true, though. Standing before him, wide smile on his face and his hand held out expectantly, is a man who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the kind of red carpet that Chris frequently finds himself on, too. Chris’s body moves on autopilot, greeting Stan and shaking his hand, while his brain produces nothing but static, helplessly stuck on a litany of holy shit he’s gorgeous what do I do what do I say.

Representative Stan is dressed in a perfectly tailored, aubergine suit, his chestnut hair slicked back in a way that could’ve seemed skeevy, but instead looks sleek and sophisticated. His steel-blue eyes are bright and intelligent, but there’s a glimmer of something almost mischievous in them, too – as if Stan knows something Chris doesn’t and he may choose to waylay him any minute. Stan’s jawline and cheekbones could cut glass, and his mouth… Chris has to make a conscious effort to look away from his mouth, or this could get really awkward really fast.

It’s only when both of them have taken place on their respective folding chairs and Gino, their camera guy, asks them if they’re good to go, that Chris’s brain decides to cooperate again. Not fully, but just enough to be able to focus on the questions he knows he needs to ask. He clears his throat and plasters on a smile, hoping fervently that he at least outwardly appeared like he knew what he was doing while he was inwardly busy having a melt down over a pretty boy.

He shakes himself. It isn’t just a pretty boy. Sebastian Stan is a United States Representative. One who is now looking at him expectantly from the chair opposite, ready to answer Chris’s questions about healthcare for all, gun control and gerrymandering.

Oh, Christ.

Stealing himself, Chris nods at Gino, signaling for him to turn on the cameras. He takes a deep breath, and starts.

“Representative Stan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for sitting down with us today and for agreeing to answer some of my questions.”

“Please, call me Sebastian,” Stan replies, smiling. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

Chris swallows, trying hard not to get stuck on the word pleasure or the way Sebastian’s slight New York drawl sounds coming from that beautiful mouth, and asks his first question. “Sebastian. Could you tell me, in sixty seconds, what your stance is on gun control?”

---

Representative Stan’s – Sebastian’s – answers are all incredibly thoughtful yet to the point, and with every reply Chris feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into a state of despair. He’s pretty and he shares Chris’s opinions on basically everything? This guy is trouble. Heaps of it.

When Chris asks question four, he almost falters when he thinks he catches Sebastian looking him up and down, gaze lingering for a moment on his hands and shoulders. But surely that’s just wishful thinking? Just in case, Chris quickly checks Sebastian’s left hand: no ring. When he meets Sebastian’s eyes again, the corner of his mouth ticks up into a hint of a smirk, as if he knows exactly what Chris was doing.

Immediately, Chris feels his cheeks heat up. Not for the first time in his adult life he’s grateful for the fact that his beard covers most of his face. He clears his throat again and sits up straighter, trying to appear as if he’s listening intently to Sebastian’s next reply instead of freaking out about the possibility that Sebastian might be interested back. Just the idea makes Chris feel too hot under the lights suddenly, his collar too tight around his neck.

He holds it together relatively well for the remainder of the interview, only tripping up and staring at Sebastian’s mouth as he talks maybe two or three times, and honestly, he kind of feels like he deserves some kind of medal for that. When his final question, regarding constituencies, has been answered, Chris represses the urge to sigh in relief. As soon as the cameras turn off, he reaches up to loosen his tie just a tad, needing to get some air.

And, lo and behold, Sebastian’s gaze tracks the movement, before settling on Chris’s mouth for just a moment. A thrill of excitement runs through Chris’s body, head to toe. Is he reading this right? Fuck, he hopes he’s reading this right.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Chris says, standing up and watching Sebastian do the same. “This was all very interesting. It’ll be a valuable contribution to A Starting Point, I’m sure.”

“Not a problem,” Sebastian replies pleasantly. “It’s been very” – he pauses to lick his lips, not breaking eye contact – “enlightening.”

Oh, boy.

Chris holds out his hand again and Sebastian takes it. There’s no mistaking it now: the handshake lasts too long for it to be entirely professional and there is definitely more eye contact than necessary. Chris’s heart is beating in his throat by the time he finally pulls his hand back, daring to subtly let his fingers brush Sebastian’s wrist. He watches in satisfaction as Sebastian’s eyes darken a fraction, a spark of heat flashing through them before he smiles pleasantly again and turns around to thank Gino and Mark.

Chris internally slaps himself in the face. Jesus, this is such an inconvenient time and place to develop a crush on someone. Still, he already knows he’s helpless against Sebastian’s charm and he’ll probably spend the next few weeks or so pathetically (and unethically) watching the footage they just shot and daydreaming about all the things he wish he could’ve done to him. It’s just not fair for someone so smart and dedicated to also be this hot.

When Sebastian turns to him again, Chris valiantly pretends he’s not in the middle of a mental breakdown and gives him a smile.

“So, Chris,” Sebastian starts, pensively rubbing his chin. “Can I call you Chris?”

“Of course,” Chris hastens to assure him. “I’m just regular old Chris.” Regular old Chris? Pathetic.

“Okay then,” Sebastian replies, and his eyes are dancing. “Chris it is. So, I’m sure you’re busy, but I’d love to pick your brain on something. I wonder if you have a moment?”

Well, damn. Maybe Chris won’t just be daydreaming after all.

Chris nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Sure, yeah. No problem. You were my last interview for the day anyway, so I’ve got time.” He looks at Mark, who’s standing over by the doorway. “Are you okay going ahead without me? I’m not sure how long this will take so there’s not need to wait around for me, I guess.”

Mark, who, unlike Chris, is not an idiot, looks far too knowing. “Absolutely. You take your time, Chris. Do what needs to be done, and all that,” he grins. “I’m gonna head back to the hotel, got plenty of work to be catching up with. I’ll see you later.” Turning to Sebastian, Mark adds, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care. Be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replies, giving Mark a playful wink.

Mark turns to smirk at Chris one more time before he grabs his briefcase and heads out the door behind Gino and his assistant, leaving Chris and Sebastian by themselves. The sudden silence is a little stifling, and Chris is the first to break it.

“So…” he says, like an idiot.

Sebastian inclines his head with a smile. “So,” he replies, looking back up at Chris from under his eyelashes. “My office is a little further down the hall, if you want to follow me. It’s not much, but at least it offers better seating than a couple of folding chairs.”

Chris laughs, a little louder than the comment warrants, but he’s nervous, okay? He’s not sure where this afternoon will take him, but he sure hopes he’s not reading this wrong and Sebastian isn’t going to break out some official documents for them to discuss the moment they step into his office.

Sebastian leads the way through a maze of corridors, occasionally raising a hand in greeting while Chris tries to keep his head down. He doesn’t mind being recognized or stopped, usually, but he’d rather not have to chat to some random stranger while he’s on his way to what is potentially a really hot and really inappropriate hookup. He gets a few looks, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Sebastian’s back, and fortunately it isn’t long before Sebastian opens a door on the left hand of the corridor, gesturing Chris inside.  

It’s just a normal Capitol Hill office; not too big, all white walls and dark wooden furniture that’s seen better days but that still does the trick. The window looks out onto a lawn, high enough up to ensure no one is able to see inside when they look up on their lunchbreak walk. Sebastian’s desk is littered with papers, most of them organized into neat piles and held down by paperweights. A man after Chris’s own heart.

The door closes behind them with an audible click, and Chris stills. His instincts tell him to fill the silence with mindless chatter, but he knows he’s likely to say something embarrassing that could well end up jeopardizing this whole rendezvous. So he bites his tongue, and waits for Sebastian to speak first.

Sebastian takes his sweet time – whether because he doesn’t know what to say either or to rile him up, Chris isn’t sure.

“Take a seat,” he says eventually, gesturing to the sturdy, armless chair in the middle of the room, about two yards between it and the wooden desk near the window. Chris, starting to wonder if this is going to be just business after all, does as he’s told, expecting Sebastian to take place behind his desk.

Sebastian doesn’t. Instead, he perches on the edge of his desk, one foot on the ground and crossing his wrists on his left knee. Chris is having flashbacks to being called into the principal’s office, only much, much better.

“I really do admire your initiative and ambitions with this website,” Sebastian says, sounding genuine. “It’s always a risk for someone from the entertainment industry to venture into politics and usually I’d say it’s not a great idea.” He pauses, and Chris fights the urge to squirm in his seat. “But then, usually,” Sebastian continues, “people are after some kind of power or influence, whereas you’re concerned with making sure people are informed enough to vote, and vote wisely. I think that’s a very admirable aspiration.”

Chris sends Sebastian a grateful smile. “Thank you. A lot of people think I’m just sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong and I should stick to acting, but I care deeply about these issues. My career has afforded me a platform, an opportunity to make my voice heard, and I can’t not use that opportunity to try and make a difference.”

“That’s exactly it,” Sebastian agrees. “Sure, you’ve got a famous face and name, but you’re not taking advantage of it. You’re using it to do some good. And, um –” He pauses, biting his lower lip around a smile and tilting his head a little to the left, before finishing, “Well, let’s just say I think that’s very sexy of you.”

Chris barks out a surprised laugh. “Glad to hear it, Rep- Sebastian,” he corrects himself. Gathering his courage, he deliberately, slowly lets his gaze sweep Sebastian’s form, head to toe and back again. “And as it happens,” he goes on, deciding to throw caution to the wind and just go for it, “I think you’ve got many excellent qualities yourself.”

A slow smile spreads over Sebastian’s handsome face, lighting up his features and momentarily stealing Chris’s breath away.

“That so?” Sebastian looks down at the floor for a moment, then looks back up at him through his eyelashes – to devastating effect. Chris is pretty sure he lets out a quiet gasp, his heart tripping over itself in his chest.

Jesus Christ, where is his cool when he needs it? Or his game, for that matter.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sebastian continues, head still cocked and fixing Chris with his gaze. “You’re not at all how I was expecting you to be.”

“How were you expecting me to be?”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian gives him a considering look. “Less down to earth, less likeable, more Hollywood?”

Chris huffs a laugh. “Yeah, people usually tell me I’m a little disappointing in real life. Shorter than they were expecting, not as muscly, etcetera etcetera.”

Sebastian frowns, a little wrinkle appearing on his brow that Chris immediately wants to smooth out with his thumb.

“Oh no, I don’t think you’re disappointing at all. You’ve exceeded my expectations, if anything. I figured it probably took tons of make up to make you look as dashing as you do on screen, but if anything I think you’re more handsome in real life.” Gesturing at him, Sebastian clarifies, “The beard, the waist, the shoulders – it’s… quite something.”

“Oh,” Chris says intelligently. “Thank you.” He winces. “I mean-”

“You’re cute,” Sebastian interrupts, grinning.

“I –” Chris falters again, dropping his head into his hands. “Fuck, I swear I’m usually smoother than this.” He looks back up at Sebastian a little sheepishly. “You just kinda caught me off guard. I guess you surpassed my expectations, too. I wasn’t expecting a Representative too be quite so…”

“So?” Sebastian prompts, still watching him closely.

“Gorgeous,” Chris breathes.

This time, it’s Sebastian who sucks in a breath, his eyes widening just a little. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but Chris is watching him closely so he notices. Seems Sebastian isn’t quite as unaffected by all this as he first appeared. That knowledge makes something in Chris’s chest loosen, helps him regain his footing a little.

Keeping his eyes locked with Sebastian’s, Chris slowly uncrosses his legs, planting both his feet firmly on the ground. Sebastian’s eyes drop down to Chris’s lap before they flick up to his face again. His perfectly white, straight teeth – more Hollywood than Capitol Hill – sink into his plump bottom lip, right hand dropping to his waist to casually unfasten the button on his suit jacket.

For a few seconds, neither of them speaks or moves, the tension in the room almost palpable now. Chris suppresses a shiver when Sebastian slowly gets up and walks over to him with an air of a predator approaching its prey.

Unconsciously, Chris holds his breath, then lets it out again in a rush when Sebastian plants his hands on Chris’s shoulders and proceeds to straddle his thighs, sitting down squarely in Chris’s lap.

Chris makes a sound, somewhere between surprised and helplessly turned on, his hands flying up to rest on Sebastian’s waist. “Whoa, I- okay.” He swallows nervously.

“Okay?” Sebastian checks.

Chris nods, a little too quickly to be suave, but hey, this is kind of an unusual situation.

Sebastian relaxes infinitesimally, the only sign that he’s not quite as confident here as he appears to be. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes drifting over Chris’s features.

From up close, Chris can count Sebastian’s eyelashes, can see the hint of a stubble on his jawline. He’s intoxicating, and Chris doesn’t dare move an inch as he lets Sebastian study him. Finally, after he’s looked his fill, Sebastian’s gaze comes to rest on Chris’s mouth. His tongue, pink and wet, flicks out to wet his own lips, and Chris’s mouth starts to water. He aches with how much he wants to kiss that pretty, pouty mouth.

After a long, loaded moment, Sebastian leans in, his breath ghosting Chris’s lips for a second and making his heart race in anticipation, before he finally presses their mouths together.

The kiss is soft, lush, almost sweet. Chris holds his breath, his stomach flipping like he’s some kind of blushing virgin being kissed for the very first time.

Then, Sebastian makes a sound – a tiny, throaty noise that’s almost a moan but not quite, and something inside of Chris snaps. He groans, parting his lips and urging Sebastian to do the same, and then they’re kissing, hard and openmouthed. Chris slides one hand up Sebastian’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sebastian moans for real this time, hands smoothing over the fabric of Chris’s suit jacket, lingering on his shoulders and arms.

“Fuck,” Sebastian mutters against Chris’s mouth, squeezing his biceps. “So fucking hot.”

Chris is used to being called hot, of course. It’s inescapable in his profession. But coming from Sebastian, quite probably the sexiest man on God’s green earth, the words mean a lot more than they usually do. It emboldens him enough to wrap an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pull him closer against him, pressing their groins together briefly.

“Uh,” Sebastian hiccups, pulling back a fraction to look down at Chris. His pupils are blown already, lips reddened and spit slick, and Chris wants. He wants this man so much and he hardly even knows him.

“God, look at you,” Chris breathes, staring in something close to awe. “Pretty as a picture, sittin’ in my lap.”

Sebastian swallows, his eyelids fluttering at the compliment, and then he slowly and deliberately grinds down. Both of them groan at the friction, Chris’s own hips jerking upwards of their own accord, and Sebastian does it again, simultaneously leaning down to capture Chris’s lips in another kiss. Soon, they’ve found a sort of rhythm, their hips rolling in time with the slow, luxurious thrusts of their tongues into each other’s mouths. It’s intoxicating - the smell of Sebastian’s aftershave mingling with fresh sweat and arousal making Chris’s head swim.

Already, he’s uncomfortably hard inside his slacks, the need to rut, to seek relief, becoming almost unbearable the longer they spend slowly grinding together on that office chair.

“Sebastian.”

Sebastian hums, dragging his mouth over Chris’s cheeks before taking his earlobe between his teeth, worrying it gently. Chris makes a pitiful noise. He throws his head back automatically, inviting Sebastian to attack his exposed neck next. Licking along the tendons that stand out, Sebastian presses wet little kisses to his throat and jaw, too much and not enough at the same time. It’s like Sebastian has a map to all of Chris’s weak spots, like he’s trying to tick them off one by one until he reaches the spot marked X.

Just when Chris thinks he’s going to have to beg him for some relief, Sebastian pulls back, placing one more lush kiss on his lips before he climbs off Chris’s lap.

On instinct, Chris’s hands fly up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says, panting slightly. “Did I-“

But before he can finish his sentence, Sebastian has quickly taken off his suit jacket and thrown it carelessly to the side, sinking to his knees in front of him. He pushes open Chris’s legs with a hand on either knee, a question in his eyes as he looks up at him.

“I hope you’re alright with this, because I really wanna suck you off.”

Chris does absolutely not squeak. “Yeah, I’m – I’m alright with that.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian grins, feral and beautiful. Slowly, he runs his hands up Chris’s thighs until he reaches his belt, opening it quickly and efficiently. Chris lifts his hips a little so that Sebastian can pull down his slacks just enough to reveal the bulge of his erection, the tip, red and already wet, peaking out over the waistband. Sebastian let’s out a low whistle. He reaches up to press his palm to Chris’s dick through the fabric, squeezing lightly as if to get the measure of it.

Chris inhales sharply. Somehow, Sebastian looks even better from this angle than he had before, and he watches Sebastian’s every move with lidded eyes. “C’mon,” he murmurs, hoping he’s not overstepping.

Sebastian’s eyes snap up to his face, the look in his eyes is downright predatory. “You want it?” he asks, squeezing Chris again and licking his lips.

Chris can’t help but roll his eyes a little. “You know I do, Congressman.”

“Oh, that do it for you, huh?” Sebastian sounds amused, that cheeky twinkle appearing in his eyes again that gets Chris’s pulse racing.

“You do it for me,” Chris replies honestly, reaching down to card a hand through Sebastian’s hair. “I’ll admit it’s kind of hot that you’re in politics and have a lot of the same opinions as I do. But to be honest, if you’d been working at my local gardening center, I’d still have done a double take. You’re just really fucking gorgeous, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looks at him with big, round eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He swallows once, then licks his lips. Hoarsely, he asks, “How are you real?”

Before Chris has had a chance to reply, Sebastian is taking him out of his underwear, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, and taking him into his mouth. Chris groans loudly, his mind blanking out for a second at the exquisite feeling of Sebastian’s hot, wet mouth around his dick.

“Jesus, fuck.”

Sebastian pulls off for a moment, just long enough to mumble, “Language,” before he reapplies himself to his task.

Blinking through the haze of pleasure, Chris stares down at him. “Did you just..?”

Sebastian just moans around him, but his eyes are laughing. Chris can’t help it – he laughs too, out loud, the sound quickly turning into another moan when Sebastian takes him deeper still. He swallows him down, all the way into the back of his throat, making himself gag a little. Pulling back to gulp in a breath, Sebastian keeps his slick, red lips wrapped around the head, gently suckling while his hand grips him with the perfect amount of pressure as he strokes along Chris’s shaft.

Chris hopes he’s not overstepping when he brings his right hand to Sebastian’s head and slides his fingers in his thick, chestnut hair, tugging at it experimentally. If the sound Sebastian makes is anything to go by, he’s more than alright with that development. Chris curls his fingers, messing up Sebastian’s perfectly styled hair and reveling in the effect it has on him, the way it seems to make him sloppier, more desperate.

Sebastian lets him fall from his mouth for a moment to lap at his shaft, before mouthing at the base of it, burying his nose in the coarse hair there. Chris isn’t sure what it is about that particular gesture that hits him, but suddenly the urgency he feels intensifies threefold. He gives Sebastian’s hair an unsubtle tug, pulling him back down, and Sebastian happily lets himself be steered, taking Chris into his mouth once more and beginning to suck him off with renewed vigor.

Sebastian’s mouth is exquisite. Chris has never felt anything quite like it, and it’s not long before he’s a panting, delirious mess. “Oh god,” he breathes, “if you keep that up, I’m not gonna last long.”

Abruptly, Sebastian stops what he’s doing, looking up at him with slightly wild, dark eyes. A gossamer strand of saliva still connects his wet, reddened lips to Chris’s cock.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The words ring out loud and clear in the otherwise silent room, and Chris blows out a quick, steadying breath. He strokes Sebastian’s cheek, thumb trailing over his slightly puffy lower lip.

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Chris says regretfully. “No idea. But I wasn’t exactly anticipating this to happen today, if you know what I mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes light up. A moment later, he’s getting to his feet and hurrying towards the built-in cabinet near the window. Chris watches in confusion as Sebastian produces a black, leather gym bag and rummages around in there for a second, reemerging with a triumphant sound.  

“I’ve got stuff.” Sebastian sounds a little breathless as he holds up a packet of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

Chris grins, raising a single eyebrow.

“I’m a single, gay man,” Sebastian explains, rolling his eyes. “I do go out occasionally, you know. Plus I used to be a boy scout. Always be prepared, and all that.”

“Hey,” Chris says, holding up his hands. “I’m not judging.”

“You totally are,” Sebastian snorts. “You should stop that and fuck me instead. Deal?”

Oh, but Chris loves this. He loves the banter, the way the extreme sexual tension of just moments ago has shifted into something more lighthearted, though still undeniably charged. It’s been a while since he’s had anything more than a one night stand, and those typically leave little room for levity, in his experience. Usually, people are so preoccupied with the fact that they’re sleeping with Chris Evans, Captain America, and so desperate to please him, that it almost becomes a little off putting.

With Sebastian, there’s none of that. Yes, Sebastian’s clearly very attracted to him, but he doesn’t hesitate to crack a joke or make a smartass remark. Chris admires that kind of self-assuredness, that independence, if you will, while he also manages to make it clear how much he wants this.

How much he wants Chris. And the feeling, Chris thinks, as he slowly lets his eyes trail up and down Sebastian’s slightly disheveled form, his entirely mutual.

Purposely lowering his voice, Chris says, “Take off your shoes, socks and pants.”

A visible shiver runs through Sebastian at Chris’s commanding tone.

Chris smiles wolfishly. “That’s what I thought. Today please,” he adds when Sebastian doesn’t move immediately, just stands there like he’s frozen.

Sebastian jerks into action, going over to the desk where he puts down the supplies before turning back to face Chris. Slowly, he starts to toe off his shoes, which he kicks aside, followed by his socks. Chris watches intently as Sebastian’s hands drop to the buttons on his slacks, unbuttoning them one by one before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them down, past the modest swell of his ass. They fall to the floor and he steps out of them easily. Chris’s eyes glue themselves to the bulge in his dark grey briefs, where a wet spot has formed at the front. Next, he lets his gaze trail over Sebastian’s long legs, elegant and yet with firm, muscled thighs that Chris would love to feel wrapped around his waist one day. Or his head. He’s not picky.

Sebastian just stands there, letting himself be looked at, seemingly savoring the attention. Finally, he reaches up to loosen his tie, deftly pulling it off and dropping it. He starts unbuttoning his dress shirt, next, but Chris stops him after he’s opened the last one.

“That’s enough.” He goes to sit up a little straighter in his chair and beckons Sebastian closer. “Come here.”

Obeying beautifully, Sebastian walks over to him, but not before snatching the condoms and lube off the desk. He comes to stand in front of him, holding Chris’s eyes and waiting for further instructions.

“Take off your briefs.”

Sebastian lets out a shaky breath. Slowly, he slides his underwear down his legs and steps out of them. His dick isn’t too large, but it’s pretty, and makes Chris’s mouth water instantly. Reaching out, he puts his hands on Sebastian’s hips. He darts a quick glance up to his face to check if this is okay, when Sebastian just bites his lip as he looks down at him with a heated look in his slate grey eyes, Chris lowers his mouth over Sebastian’s cock.

He lets out a pleased little hum at the taste of him on his tongue, swiping it around the head to lap up the precome that’s gathered at the tip. Sebastian moans beautifully, hands resting on Chris’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle.

“Chris,” he breathes, letting his head fall backwards. Chris looks up at him through his lashes, marveling at how pretty Sebastian looks even from this unflattering angle. He bobs his head and sucks him off with relish, taking him down over and over, until Sebastian’s thighs start to tremble.

“Please.”

Chris pulls off with a wet sound. “Please what?” he asks, voice even rougher than it was moments before.

“I need –” Sebastian whimpers, hips jerking, and Chris thinks he knows exactly what he needs.

He sits back against the back rest and pats his lap. Sebastian takes the hint immediately and climbs on, straddling his thighs. His flushed, leaking cock presses against the front of Chris’s dress shirt, sure to leave a stain, but Chris couldn’t care less. He’s got a lap full of mostly naked Sebastian; he does not feel particularly worried about dry cleaning right now.

Chris allows himself a moment to take Sebastian in. With his flushed cheeks, and dark eyes, glossy with arousal, he’s breathtaking. His hair is mussed and his toned, tanned torso visible through the gap in his opened dress shirt. His cock is hard and flushed, the base surrounded by neatly trimmed pubic hair. Sebastian’s been biting his lips, it seems, because they look extra red – a little raw from the way his teeth have been worrying at them while Chris sucked him off. Needing to taste them more than he’s needed anything in a while, Chris leans in, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss. He runs a hand along Sebastian’s long legs, which are remarkably smooth, like the rest of him. Sebastian balances a line between strong and elegant, and Chris is mesmerized by it.

“God, you’re stunning,” Chris rumbles, trailing a hand from the hollow of Sebastian’s neck all the way down his chest, abs, and then bypassing his cock to slide around to his backside. He grabs a handful of that small but perfectly formed ass and kneads it. Sebastian’s breath hitches, and Chris splays his hand over Sebastian’s tailbone before he deliberately dips his middle finger between his cheeks. When the tip of it brushes Sebastian’s smooth, tight hole, Sebastian gasps, his pupils dilating impossibly further until there’s barely anything left of the beautiful ocean blue of his irises. Their gazes lock while Chris gently teases at Sebastian’s hole with his finger, rubbing little circles there that don’t do a thing yet to loosen him up but that have Sebastian squirming in his lap nonetheless.

It takes approximately a minute of this before Sebastian breaks, whining in the back of his throat in a way that Chris is pretty sure is unintentional.

“What is it, baby?” The endearment is out before Chris can check himself, but the way Sebastian shivers against him shows he doesn’t exactly seem to mind it. “You need something?”

“Yes,” Sebastian breathes.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want your fingers in me,” Sebastian answers instantly, though the way his voice trembles tells Chris it’s harder for him to say it than he’s trying to make it appear. “Please.”

“Anything you need, baby,” Chris assures him, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He takes the lube from Sebastian’s clenched fist, popping open the lid and reluctantly drawing his hand back from Sebastian’s ass to coat his fingers in the stuff. They’re back a moment later though, slick fingers rubbing over Sebastian’s hole with intent, before he starts to work the tip of his forefinger slowly inside. Sebastian sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Chris slowly slides his finger in deeper, his mind bombarding him with signals of hot, tight, wet that go straight to his already rock-hard cock.

He can’t wait to be inside Sebastian, but first, he needs to make sure he does a thorough job opening him up. The last thing Chris wants to do is hurt him. In fact, he’s already ready to fight anyone who ever hurt Sebastian in the past or is planning to in the future, and he’s rather not have to kick his own ass.

“More,” Sebastian demands. His tongue darts out to lick his own lips, and Chris’s cock twitches at the sight. Lining up a second finger next to the first, he slowly presses it in as well, carefully stretching Sebastian’s tight entrance, readying it for his cock. Just that thought alone is enough to make Chris’s brain short-circuit for a second. Sebastian rests his forehead against Chris’s, his breathing picking up, but it doesn’t sound like he’s uncomfortable. So Chris doesn’t stop, instead slightly spreading his fingers to gently pry him open further.

“You’ve got – big fingers,” Sebastian pants, rocking back on them just a little.

“Sorry,” Chris says guiltily.

“No – ah. That’s, that’s really not a bad thing.”

Chris smirks. “I see. You want more?”

“Yes, please,” Sebastian breathes, the last word fading into a moan when Chris adds a third finger to the first two.

“There’s a good boy,” Chris says, kissing Sebastian’s cheek almost sweetly. “Asking for it so nicely.”

Sebastian sighs contently, melting a little further against him. Slowly, Chris starts to slide his fingers in and out while Sebastian’s fingers dig hard into Chris’s biceps. Since Chris knows sometimes the discomfort of the initial stretch can cause an erection to flag, he brings his left hand to Sebastian’s cock to stroke it tightly, just until Sebastian’s eyelids start fluttering from pleasure instead of tension.

Chris keeps him on the edge for a while, aware that he’s probably done enough to prepare him, but unable to stop staring at Sebastian, where he’s open and wanton and beautiful in his lap. It’s only when Sebastian whimpers and buries his face in Chris’s neck, breath hot and moist on his skin, that Chris remembers he’s working towards something here.

“Shhh,” he coos, rubbing Sebastian’s smooth back with his free hand. “It’s alright. I’m gonna give you what you need, okay?”

Sebastian nods shakily, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Chris’s throat.

“Please,” he pleads, somewhere between sweetly and desperately, and Chris’s heart does a funny thing inside his chest. He has to kiss Sebastian again then, deep and slow and consuming, swallowing his beautiful moans as he crooks his fingers inside of him to makes him cry out softly into his mouth.

Finally, Chris makes himself pull back, pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the bottom of his own shirt.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little unmoored and shaky himself. “Alright, stand up for me, honey.”

Sebastian does, climbing off Chris’s lap, and standing there on slightly unsteady legs, like a baby deer, waiting to be told what to do next.

“Take off the shirt and bend over the desk.”

It’s an order, but Chris watches Sebastian’s face carefully so see his reaction, ready to propose something else if he isn’t comfortable with this. He needn’t have worried. Sebastian instantly turns around, all but ripping off his shirt and then pushing aside some of the papers on his desk before bending over it. He keeps his legs straight, making his ass stick up in the air a bit as he presents himself for Chris’s hungry gaze.

For a moment, Chris can’t believe his luck. He came here today with a purpose; to work on his project, his brain child that he cares about a lot, and it had gone well, and that was all Chris has hoped for from today. To find himself in this position now, with the most attractive man he’s ever seen laid out before him like some sort of fata morgana, patiently waiting for Chris to fuck him stupid, that’s something he could never have anticipated. It’s better than anything he could have dreamed up.

“Jesus,” he says out loud, too caught up in his feelings to have much of a brain to mouth filter left. “I can’t believe I got this lucky. Look at you.”  

“Chris,” Sebastian says, sounding a little impatient now. Which makes sense, considering he’s naked in his office on Capitol Hill, draped over his own desk, while some actor guy with his pants open watches him from a chair.

Chris shakes himself and finally gets up. Taking off his suit jacket, he drapes it over the back of the chair, and calmly turns around. He walks closer but still doesn’t touch Sebastian, just stops a few feet away. Something tells him that despite Sebastian’s impatience, he probably quite likes being on display like this. Feeling bold, Chris decides to take it a step further and test him a little.

“Show me,” he says.

Sebastian goes still. “What?”

“You heard me,” Chris repeats calmly. “Show me.”

Chris thinks he hears Sebastian murmur a curse, but then he lifts his arms and brings them to his ass, grabbing his cheeks and parting them, spreading himself open for Chris’s inspection. Chris can’t help the soft groan that escapes him at the sight. Reaching out, he smooths his palm over Sebastian’s lower back, then over the curve at the top of his ass, thumbing him open a little bit further.

“Fuck, that’s pretty.”

And it is. Sebastian’s pink hole is wet and slightly relaxed with how long Chris just spent fingering him. It makes Chris’s mouth water. He briefly entertains the thought of eating him out, but then Sebastian makes another impatient noise, wiggling his ass a little.

“Come on,” he pleads. “Do it, Chris. Just- please.”

A new wave of arousal washes through him, fast and strong, making him feel a little lightheaded.

“Okay, yes, I’m – Fuck. Just one second.” Chris doubles back for the lube, then grabs a condom and prepares himself as quickly as he can with his shaky, fumbling fingers. He positions himself behind Sebastian, his clothed thighs pressing into the back of Sebastian’s bare ones. With his left hand, he grips Sebastian’s hip as the other lines up his cock, resting the tip against his entrance.

“Please,” Sebastian repeats, sounding more desperate than ever, and then Chris is pushing forward, slowly sliding into the warm, welcoming heat of Sebastian’s body.

He grits his teeth to stop himself from moaning too loudly. Despite the thorough preparation, Chris’s brain whites out for a minute at how tight Sebastian feels around him because of his muscles clenching instinctively at the intrusion. Sebastian is making aborted little noises that could be pleasure or pain, and once Chris’s brain comes back online enough to register them, he leans down over Sebastian’s back to press a kiss to his spine as he fully bottoms out. He stays there for a moment, trying to keep his breathing even and kissing up on Sebastian some more in an attempt to distract or comfort him, whatever it is he needs.

But it must not be as bad as Chris thought, because it’s only a couple of seconds before Sebastian starts to push back against him.

“I’m good,” he says hoarsely, “you can move now.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris sighs. He pushes himself back up to his full height and draws out a few inches, groaning at the drag of Sebastian’s inner walls around his cock before pushing back in. He means to go slow, to let Sebastian adjust, but it feels so good that he can’t help but slide in deep and stay there for a moment, drawing tight little circles with his hips that have Sebastian shuddering below him.

Unable to help himself, Chris pulls back and snaps his hips forward again forcefully, burying himself deeper into Sebastian’s welcoming heat. Judging by the sound Sebastian lets out, he does not mind. In fact, as Chris starts pumping his hips and driving into Sebastian over and over again, Sebastian starts to become louder and louder, moans and curses falling freely from his lips.

Chris adores every single sound Sebastian makes as he lays into him, but part of him is still conscious of the fact that they’re at Sebastian’s place of work. The door may be locked – at least, he hopes it is – but he doubts the room is soundproof, and he’d never forgive himself if their little tryst ended up jeopardizing Sebastian’s job or reputation in any way. Since Sebastian doesn’t respond to Chris’s pleas to keep it down, Chris doesn’t see any other option than to bend forward and put his hand over Sebastian’s mouth, muffling his cries.

“I’m sorry,” he says, genuinely regretful. “If we’d been somewhere private I’d’ve let you be as loud as you want, sweetheart. But this is your office. We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”

Sebastian moans in a way that Chris thinks could mean that he in fact does want everyone to hear them, but while that may be true in the moment, Chris is pretty sure Sebastian would regret it hugely after everything was said and done and the whole wing knew of their sexcapades. So he keeps his hand where it is, even if it impedes his freedom of movement a bit.

When he feels Sebastian lick at his palm, Chris’s first thought is he’s just being a brat, but when he does it again, Chris takes the hint. He takes his hand off Sebastian’s mouth and puts his fingers to his lips. Sebastian immediately takes them into his mouth, lips closing around them as he suckles them like he’d sucked on Chris’s dick before, making content little noises.

“Oh, baby,” Chris groans, rolling his hips again as he feeds Sebastian his cock and his fingers at the same time. “You just needed something to suck on, huh? Being fucked not enough for you? You wish you had my cock in your mouth, too?”

Sebastian whines around his fingers, and Chris rewards him with an extra forceful thrust that has Sebastian scrambling for purchase on the edges of his desk.

Just so he can draw this out as long as he can, Chris takes it down a notch, slowing until he’s just leisurely sliding in and out, making his strokes long and deep and getting Sebastian to sigh in pleasure below him. Part of Chris wishes he could just stop time right here, stay suspended in this moment in time forever, buried inside in the most stunning man he’s ever had. Not that he’s had all that many men. He’s definitely bisexual, but he tends to lean towards women a little bit more – at least, he thought he did.

Being here now, with Sebastian, he genuinely can’t imagine wanting anything else ever again. Which is… something to be examined closer when he’s not balls deep, perhaps. To stop his mind from overthinking, Chris changes their positions, pulling his fingers from Sebastian’s mouth and ignoring his protests. He pulls him upright by the shoulders, plastering his clothed chest to Sebastian’s naked back.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, lifting his hands to grab at the arm that Chris wraps around his chest.

Chris buries his face in Sebastian’s neck, dragging his lips and beard over the sensitive skin until Sebastian is squirming against him. Chris groans in Sebastian’s ear, tongue darting out to lick around the shell.

“You feel so good around me, sugar,” he praises, free hand dropping down to press Sebastian’s leaking erection against his belly. “You feeling good, too?”

Sebastian shudders against him, clearly torn between whether to press back or push forward into Chris’s hand. “Please, please, can I-”

Chris hums, shaking his head. “Sorry, honey. Not yet.” He slides his hand down from Sebastian’s clavicle to his pectoral, flicking experimentally at his left nipple with his thumb.

“No, no, unnghh,” Sebastian moans, letting his head fall back against Chris’s shoulders.

“Ohh,” Chris chuckles, charmed. “Sensitive, huh? How’s it feel when I touch ‘em? Feel good?” Not waiting for Sebastian’s reply, Chris takes the hard little nub between his thumb and forefinger and tweaks it lightly.

“Oh fuck,” Sebastian curses, jolting like he’s electrocuted, before panting, “Do that again.”

Chris doesn’t have it in him to deny Sebastian anything right now, so he repeats the movement and tries not to come on the spot from the way Sebastian’s ass tightens around him when he does. In his experience, most guys’ nipples aren’t all that sensitive, but from Sebastian’s reactions, is sure seems like he’s a nipple kinda guy. Which works out perfectly, because Chris is too. He’s already dying to suck on them sometime, scrape his beard over them, worry them between his teeth and find out how far he can work Sebastian up just from playing with his pretty nipples.

When Sebastian whimpers and sighs, yes, please, yes, Chris realizes he’s said all that out loud. And even though this might just be sex-drunk ramblings, Chris’s heart leaps at the implication that there might be a next time.

Keeping up a steady pace, Chris continues to fuck into Sebastian from behind while he rubs and pinches at his chest. He relishes the high-pitched noises that fall from Sebastian’s lips seemingly without conscious thought: he’s lost in it, just like Chris is lost in him, and it feels so fucking good.

Finally, when he feels the tell-tale tightening in his balls, Chris almost reluctantly pushes Sebastian away from him, down onto the table. He’s loath to let go of him, would much rather keep him close, but he’s conscious that he’s not hitting the spot in that position, and he wants to make this as good for Sebastian as he possibly can.

With a hand on his lower back, Chris presses Sebastian down as he starts to finally give it to him properly, pulling almost all the way out on every stroke before plunging back in. He chances a look down, mesmerized at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Sebastian’s hole, which hungrily draws him in over and over again. There’s something almost obscene about the fact that Chris is still fully clothed, just his dick out, while Sebastian is gloriously naked, unabashed and wanton, letting himself be taken.

“Oh Jesus,” Chris pants, crazy with it, his body feeling loose and too-tight at the same time. “You’re so fucking hot, you’ve got no idea. Driving outta my fucking mind, sweetheart, Christ.”

“Harder,” Sebastian pleads, trying to muffle his cries in his own forearm. “Fuck me harder, c’mon.”

A haze comes over Chris’s brain, the only thing he can see and feel being Sebastian and the buzz in  his veins, the pleasure coiling in his gut, so close to release. He grabs Sebastian’s hips and pulls him back against him every time he fucks into him, and suddenly, Sebastian’s moans change. They become higher and breathier, littered with aborted curses, and Chris knows he’s hitting the spot.

“Like that, baby? You like it like that?” Chris doesn’t care that he probably sounds like a bad porno right now, his entire consciousness filled with the scent of arousal in the air and the slick, filthy sounds of their bodies joining mixed with obscene moans.

Sebastian isn’t much better, anyway, keeping up a near constant litany of Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, in time with his beautiful, naked body being shoved up and down the table with every forceful thrust of Chris’s hips.

“Oh god,” Sebastian gasps suddenly. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.”

“You’re – like this?” Chris asks incredulously. “You don’t need me to-?“

“I need you to keep going,” Sebastian groans. “Just like this, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris grits out. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he could stop now even if he wanted to. He’s so close.

Sebastian seems to finally have lost the capacity for speech altogether, the little breathless ah, ah, ah, sounds that Chris punches out of him the only thing he can manage.

“I’m guh-” Sebastian tries futilely, but he doesn’t get further than that.

“Now,” Chris orders, aiming another trust right into Sebastian’s prostate and grinding down on it, his hips flush with Sebastian’s ass. “Come for me, do it.”

And Sebastian does. He keens, body seizing up, clenching tightly around Chris’s cock. Chris’s hips stutter, wanting to keep thrusting, but it’s too much. Before Sebastian has even finished, Chris’s orgasm slams into him like a freight train. He comes with a long, drawn out moan, losing all sense of place or time as waves of pleasure wash over him, cock pulsing as he fills up the condom with his release.

Chris isn’t proud of it, but he more or less collapses onto Sebastian’s back when he starts to come down, his heaving, dress shirt-clad chest against Sebastian’s sweat-damp back. Chris presses his lips to Sebastian’s shoulder blade, panting against his skin as he catches his breath for a good few minutes.

Finally, his softening dick slips out, and Chris is forced to get up. “Give me one second,” he murmurs, looking around and spotting a box of tissues that’s fallen to the floor. He quickly removes and ties off the condom, wrapping it in a tissue and tossing it in the trashcan, along with the one he uses to clean himself. Next, he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up, before he grabs another hand full of tissues. He cleans Sebastian up carefully, mindful not to be too rough with his undoubtedly sensitive, softening cock.

“You okay?” Chris whispers, gently stroking the slight curve of Sebastian’s hip.

Sebastian just hums in reply, not showing any inclination to get up of his own accord. He seems pretty out of it, honestly, so Chris helps him up and then guides them both to sit down in the chair again. He pulls Sebastian into his lap, against his chest, the contrast between their states of dress even starker now than it was before. Somehow, Chris is a little moved by it, by how much Sebastian seems to trust him, even if he barely knows him. It makes him tighten his grip instinctively, murmuring praise and endearments into Sebastian’s hair as Sebastian’s head lolls back against Chris’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Sebastian starts to stir, blinking open his eyes and shivering a little. Chris pulls him closer still, rubbing his hands over Sebastian’s arms and legs in an attempt to warm him up a little.

“You with me again?” Chris asks quietly, lips brushing Sebastian’s ear.

Sebastian swallows, then gives a short nod. “Yeah.” His voice comes out thick, so he clears his throat. “I’m- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to let myself go quite so much.”

He sounds embarrassed, and Chris won’t stand for that.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He grabs Sebastian’s chin, turning his face so he can pull him into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, without much intent, and Sebastian hums into it. “You were perfect,” Chris praises as he pulls away. “You are perfect.”

Despite the fact that he’s been naked all this time, this is what makes Sebastian blush, and Chris watches the color appear in his cheeks with delight, chasing it with his lips and nuzzling Sebastian’s hot cheeks.

“You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself,” Sebastian breathes. He turns into Chris further, lifting a hand to run it first through Chris’s beard and then his hair, tugging him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, and Chris lets himself melt into it.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when you looked at me like that, earlier,” Sebastian confesses, speaking against Chris's lips. “Never woulda thought you’d have been into guys, let alone that you’d be like this.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he means by that, because Chris understands. He never thought Sebastian would’ve been like that, either.

Chris gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I’m bisexual, but I don’t flaunt it. ‘Cause, you know – Hollywood.”

Sebastian hums. “Yeah, I do know,” he says, before adding, “Capitol Hill,” by way of explanation.

A giggle bubbles up inside of Chris that he can’t quite stop in time.

When Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him in question, Chris blurts out, “We just fucked on Capitol Hill.”

Sebastian laughs, bright and happy, resting his forehead against Chris’s. “We sure did, sweetheart.”

He probably shouldn’t push his luck, but Chris has never been very good at keeping his feelings do himself. Before he can question it too much, he says, “So, I know it’s all backwards, but… I’d love to take you out for dinner. If – if you want.”

A sweet, fond smile spreads over Sebastian’s face. “Well, as it happens, I could really go for a burger and a beer, right about now.”

Chris groans, squeezing Sebastian’s waist. “If only you could be naked for the whole thing, and it would be perfect.”

Sebastian laughs. “Maybe on our second date. If you’re lucky.”

It Chris crosses his fingers behind Sebastian’s back, no one needs to know.

Read (and comment?) on AO3 - Thank you! ❤️

[ad1thi]

au masterlist

okay ive been meaning to do this for a while, and ive finally got the time to do it so here’s a list of all of my aus!! this is divided by ship for ease, and i do have a lot of pieces that don’t fit into any specific au - so this post is specifically for aus (this is a rly long post so im hiding it under a read more) (also please nobody comment on how similar the summaries are ive never had to think of how im summarising these aus before this post)

all my writing on tumblr // all my writing on ao3

buckytony

1. your pain (is my burden to bear) AU 

Summary: soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate’s pain, and marks that originate from your soulmate’s injuries can be found on your body

2. target and assassin AU

Summary: The Asset has been tasked with the mission of killing Antonia Stark. Falling in love with her along the way was never part of the plan.

3. park bench AU

Summary: they’re both running from their past. in New York, they find each other.

4. taste of your lips AU

Summary: TVD au. Bucky wasn’t planning to stick around in New York, just drop in long enough to fix whatever his brother had fucked up and then leave. But then he meets Toni Stark, and against all odds - he finds himself staying in the one city he’d sworn never to step foot in for all of his immortal life. 

5. the second (love of his life) AU

Summary: greek gods AU, Aphrodite!Bucky x Hephaestus!Bucky . Bucky has spent over a thousand years resenting his marriage to Tony, content to ignore his husband in favour of his lover, Steve. but when he’s captured by Joann Schmidt and its Tony, not Steve who comes to his rescue - Bucky finds himself falling for the husband he spent so many years ignoring. Is it too late, or can he fix a marriage that was doomed from the start?

6. waste my time AU

Summary: Tony doesn’t do boyfriends. Tony has a boyfriend - Tiberius, or he will anyway once he convinces Ty that breaking up with him was a horrible idea. But then he meets James Barnes at a bar, and suddenly things don’t seem so black and white anymore

7. elite AU

Summary: a/b/o dynamics. Bucky isn’t planning on starting anything up in his new school, and would’ve been completely content to keep his head down until he graduates. But after a chance kiss with a bambi-eyed omega at a party in the beginning of the school year, things weren’t looking so simple anymore

8. 1000 lives (for you) AU

Summary: James hasn’t been subjected to the Chair in close to 3 years. After all, why would HYDRA use the Chair to control him when they’ve got his soulmate instead?

9. Secret Love Song AU

Summary: Marrying Steve wasn’t what Toni had in mind when she pictured the rest of her life, but it wasn’t any hardship. Of course, that was before James came into her life. (this au has been race and gender bent since the original post)

10. Dilwale AU

Summary: mafia au. Tony and Bucky used to be in love. Now they’ve sworn never to see each other again. ‘Course, MJ and Peter falling for each other puts a kink in those plans. 

11. K3G AU

Summary: desi au. As a member of the illustrious Barnes dynasty, Bucky is expected to undertake certain responsibilities; chief of which is marrying someone from a respectable family. Tony Stark from Chandi Chowk might just put a wrench in those plans.

12. buckytony teen wolf AU

Summary: when Tony and Rhodey went searching for a dead body in the woods, a rogue Alpha werewolf was not what they were expecting to find. Overnight, their entire lives change

13. undercover cop AU

Summary: After the events of Afghanistan, Tony can’t bear to work at Stark Industries anymore. Handing over the reins of the company to Pepper, he quits and starts working at Midtown High. but the US government isn’t about to let one of the country’s biggest assets work at a public highschool without even the smallest bit of protection. Enter Agent Barnes, or as Tony knows him - Midtown High’s new gym teacher

14. the K2 AU

Summary: Bucky just wanted to live his life without the Army ever finding him again. Saving Tony Carbonell at a metro station and getting sucked into the intricate life of the italian mafia was never on the agenda. 

15. Mara Dyer AU

Summary: fem! Bucky. Bucky was an extremely normal 16 year old girl - if you discounted the fact that her bestfriend and boyfriend died after an abandoned building collapsed on them; and that she was the only person to survive. Then bodies started dropping around her, people that she imagined dying who died in the exact grotesque way she pictured is. and suddenly, there’s nothing really normal about her at all.

16. ACOMAF AU

Summary: fem! Bucky. Bucky kills a wolf. Except its not a wolf, its a Faerie and the High Lord of the Spring Court comes collecting his pound of flesh. 

17. centre of his universe AU

Summary: The Asset is fascinated by the Stark Heir. 

18. one shot AU

Summary: highschool AU. nerd! tony x punk!bucky. Bucky has has a crush on Tony Stark for his entire highschool career, but he’s never thought he had a shot - choosing instead to pine uselessly while Tony dates what feels like the entire highschool body. Bucky’s resigned himself to the belief that Tony will never be his, until Tony breaks up with longtime girlfriend Rumiko Fujikawa, and suddenly - Bucky has one shot. 

19. 1000 lives (for you) AU

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes and Anthony Edward Stark are impossible soulmates - separated by time, distance and space but brought together by horrible pain and suffering. This is their story. Starts from TWS, and is largely canon compliant.

stevetony

1. student of the year AU

Summary: Steve was supposed to keep his head down, get good grades and get a scholarship to a university far enough away that he wasn’t even breathing the same air as his family. But then he becomes bestfriends with Bucky, falls in love with Bucky’s boyfriend Tony - and things get a bit more complicated along the way

2. just friends(?) AU

Summary: Tony did this, thing where he fell in love with his friends. All of his friends, except maybe Steve. (too bad nobody told Steve)

3. captain americana and the heartbreak prince AU

Summary: Steve Rogers has known Tony Stark for 10 years, 4 months and 11 days. He’s been in love with him for the exact same time. 

4. om shanti om AU

Summary: It should be noted, for the sake of posterity - that Steve usually wasn’t one to buy into the craze that surrounded celebrities. At the end of the day, they were still people. Tony Stark though, that was his exception.

5. stevetony lawyer AU

Summary: raising a 14 year old boy while juggling a demanding job at the DA’s office wasn’t easy, but Steve made it work. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was a good life. They were happy - and then Peter gets charged with the murder of his classmate Wade Wilson and everything falls apart. With his son facing life in prison, Steve does the only thing he can and calls the best defence lawyer he knows - his almost fiance Tony Stark.

6. schitt’s creek AU

Summary: David! Tony x Patrick! Steve

7. kidnapped! tony stark AU

Summary: Tony gets kidnapped and Steve loses his mind.

8. zindagi na milengi dobara AU

Summary: desi AU. in college, Steve, Sam and Bucky made a promise. 3 weeks, 3 activities, 3 boys and the country of Spain. 15 years later, Sam is getting married and its time for them to make good on that promise, to give him the send-off of the century. But between Sam’s conflicted feelings over his engagement, unresolved tension that threatens to break up the trio; Bucky’s secret agenda and Steve’s workaholic tendencies - it definitely promises to be a trip they’ll never forget

9. arranged marriage AU

Summary: desi AU. Steve has been in love with Tony for years. So when his mother asks him to settle down, he impulsively sends a rishta to the Stark residence; and thinks nothing of it. And then - they reply.

10. betrothed AU

Summary: Tony and Steve are princes of neighbouring kingdoms, promised to each other at birth. But the life of a royal is not as smooth as it seems.

11.  the salacious bisexual life of tony stark AU

Summary: As a journalist, Steve Rogers is expected to write articles on a great many number of things. He didn’t realise that could include his ex boyfriend.

12. Civil War AU

Summary: everything’s the same except: (1) Steve and Tony are dating, (2) Steve doesn’t know Tony is Iron Man

13. stevetony lucifer AU

Summary: Tony is tired of being the Devil, tired of following Howard’s order, tired of all the bullshit that comes with divinity. Malibu isn’t great but its a refreshing change of pace, a nice break from the screaming and the pain. And then he meets Detective Steve Rogers and Malibu suddenly has a lot more to offer.

Note: this AU was started by @imposter-human and all credits for it rightfully go to her. i just piggybacked onto it and added a couple of my own thoughts, but this AU is hers. 

rhodeytony

1. Dostana AU

Summary: Rhodey and Tony desperately need a new apartment, and there’s a brilliant one that’s close to where they both work. There’s only catch though, the landlord, Pepper (who is stunning) only accepts applications from couples. After a night drowning their sorrows in the local bar, they come up with the brilliant idea to pose as a gay couple for the apartment. They move in, and come up with increasingly stupid ways to impress their new landlord without exposing that their marriage is a shamNeither bestfriend likes to lose, and both of them have their eyes set on one person: Pepper (or do they?)

2. rajput tony stark AU

Summary: desi AU. Toni Stark comes from a long line of rajput royalty. (this au has been genderbent since the original post)

3. civil war rhodeytony AU

Summary: civil war scenes re-imagined with an established rhodeytony and a past stevetonyrhodey otv.

4. me and my bestfriend but make it rhodeytony

Summary: memories of me and LRP but re-imagined as Tony and Rhodey

5. meri pyaari bindu AU

Summary: To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

6. doctor who AU

Summary: Doctor! Tony Stark x River Song! fem James Rhodes

7. female tony AU

Summary: Tony doesn’t like Rhodey’s new girlfriend. (he’s still trying to figure out why)

stevebuckytony

1. stephanie rogers AU

Summary: Steph Rogers was never supposed to find herself on the frontlines of World War 2. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things. - the mcu re-imagined with genderbent Steve. eventual stevetonybucky otv

2. on your knees AU

Summary: dom/sub AU. Tony is relearning what it means to be alive in a world where he’s not in the clutches of HYDRA, and misinterprets a scene between dom! Steve and sub! Bucky

samtonybucky

1. president tony stark AU

Summary: Tony Stark is sworn in at the 46th President of the United States. Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes are assigned to his detail.

buckytonynat

1. the Carbonell Family AU

Summary: Anthony Carbonell is the patriarch of the Italian Mafia, Natasha and James are his bodyguards (and lovers). Steve Rogers is the FBI agent who’s vowed to bring him down.

clarktony (superiron)

1. bound by blood AU

Summary: when Clark’s parents die, Howard Stark takes him in. Desperate to recreate the serum by any means necessary he starts experimenting on both his new foster child, and his own flesh and blood son in an attempt to create the next supersoldier. Years later, Clark has broken free of Howard and is now Superman; but he and Tony are connected in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand

gen

1. morgan stark’s villain origin story AU

Summary: Morgan Stark isn’t a normal girl. It might have something to do with the death of her father.

2. blind tony stark AU

Summary: Tony loses his sight when he’s 15 after a kidnapping gone wrong.

3. desi! tony stark AU

Summary: just a link to all pieces that have desi! tony stark in them.

4. slytherin! tony stark AU

Summary: just a link to all pieces that have slytherin! tony stark in them.

5. AU-gust 2020

Summary: a masterlist to all the AUs i did for AU-gust, spanning various ships and fandoms

6. sins of the father AU

Summary: Harley has always known who his birth father is. It just never occurred to him, that his birth father might not know who his son is. im3 compliant. slightly aged up harley keener (he’s in highschool not middle school)

[ghost-in-the-hella]

I hope it's cool for me to drop another one, you just write them so well. Z: “Zip me up?” PriceMarsh

Absolutely! Prepare for a near-lethal dose of pricemarsh fluff.

CW for referenced homophobia and implied internalized homophobia. Also references to Rachel’s death because I can’t not at least mention that.

---

There’s no reason for Chloe to feel so nervous. It’s only prom. She’s never been one of those girls who considers their high school prom to be a pinnacle of her life to be surpassed only by her eventual and inevitable wedding day. Before she and Kate started dating, Chloe would’ve laughed at the idea of even going to prom. She was way too cool for all that mainstream, cliche high school shit even before she dropped out.

But here she is, sitting in the cab of her truck in the parking lot for the girls’ dorms, sweating through her tuxedo shirt as she tries to work up the nerve to go meet her prom date. Nervous. She and Kate have been official for a few good months now, but they’ve never done anything this, well, official. Chloe bought a corsage and everything. She’s wearing her dad’s old powder blue tuxedo from his prom, taken off mothballs for the occasion (lucky for her he was a total beanpole when he was in high school; Joyce barely had to take it in at all). It’s fucking go time.

She flicks her lighter a few times to steady her nerves. God, she wants a cigarette. But she knows Kate hates the smell even though she tries not to complain, and she wants tonight to be perfect. Not for herself, of course - she’s still too much of a hardass punk to care about going to prom, much less about having it be some kind of magical experience - but for Kate. Because Kate cares about going to prom, and Kate deserves a perfect night. She deserves, at the very least, a prom date who doesn’t smell (and taste) like an ashtray. If Kate’s going to risk outing herself to her family with prom photos of her with an obvious lesbian on her arm, well, Chloe’s going to be the best goddamn arm candy she can be.

She tosses her lighter into the glove box and switches off her stereo, silencing the pump up mix she’d been playing to get psyched. She takes a deep breath to ground herself. Okay. Okay. Now it’s go time.

She grabs her tuxedo jacket off the passenger side of the bench seat and slings it on as she opens the door and hops out into the parking lot. She pulls out her phone and texts Kate. 

Me: im here

Me: u ready to wreck shit up w ur hella hot prom date?

Kate: Almost :)

Kate: I need your help with something. Can you come up?

Chloe suppresses the instinct to shout NO EMOJI and restricts herself to a polite: sure

She checks herself out one last time in her side mirror. Her hair’s freshly dyed and combed to a silky sheen, every strand perfectly in place. She’s got a tasteful amount of eyeliner on, like any good pirate, and it makes the blue of her eyes pop. The tux looks surprisingly good for something that’s been packed up in the attic for longer than she’s been alive, and it accents her hair and her eyes both. 

“Your father would be so happy for you. I wish he could’ve seen you.”

Chloe swallows down the sudden lump in her throat. She already sobbed her eyes out enough when Joyce was helping her get ready; she’s not picking up her prom date with raccoon eyes if she cries her eyeliner into a mess (again). She adjusts her lapels (what was it with the late seventies and ridiculous lapels?!) and her blue butterfly boutonniere and strides toward the dorms. 

There are several people standing outside, copping a last smoke before prom. Victoria Chase is one of them, flanked by two girls Chloe only vaguely recognizes. She’s pretty sure the bottle blonde smoked her out once at a Vortex party after she’d lost track of Rachel, but she’s not sure they ever exchanged names. Victoria flicks some ash off her cigarette as Chloe nears, but she pointedly avoids Chloe’s gaze rather than engaging her. So, still kind of an ice queen but maybe she’s learned a modicum of civility in the wake of the absolute clusterfuck that was last semester, between her best friend getting arrested along with her favorite teacher for a gross assortment of sex crimes. And murder.

Chloe’s stomach twists violently at the memory. Fuck, last fall was a shitshow. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have survived learning about Rachel’s murder (officially “death by misadventure” because the Prescotts have lawyers out their ass, but Chloe’s nobody’s fool) without Kate’s shoulder to cry on. Chloe still doesn’t believe in god, but if she did she’d say that Kate’s been an absolute godsend.

Chloe spares the girls by the door a quiet nod in greeting as she passes, and two out of three return it (fuck you very much, too, Unnamed Brunette Sidekick). She climbs the stairs to the second floor and hustles to Kate’s door. Her whiteboard is blank today, so Chloe takes a moment to draw a cartoon heart on it before she knocks.

“Chloe?”

“The one and only,” she replies.

“It’s open; can you let yourself in? Alice is being a handful.”

“Ooh, bunny shenanigans!” Chloe opens the door and slips into the room, closing the door swiftly behind her in case Alice is in danger of escaping. Alice’s cage is, indeed, empty, and the bunny is nowhere in sight. What Chloe can see, however, is about half of Kate poking out from beneath her bed. She shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t. She does anyway. Kate’s legs just look so formal as they stick out from beneath her bed at awkward angles, politely wrapped in dark tights and the jumble of what is clearly a very pretty dress that deserves better than to be mangled and coated in dust before it can even get its moment in the spotlight.

Kate giggles, so at least she’s aware of the ridiculousness of the situation and probably isn’t mad at Chloe. “She just will not go back in her cage! Can you help?” Kate flails out a hand in Chloe’s general direction.

Chloe crouches next to the bed and takes Kate’s hand, helping to slide her out from under it. “Hey, bun-bun,” she calls softly to the bunny beneath Kate’s bed. “Your favorite person is here! Come say hello!”

Kate gasps in mock offense and swats Chloe’s arm. “Her second favorite person, thank you!”

Alice hops tentatively out from under the bed and wiggles her perfect little nose at Chloe. “Ah-ha!” Chloe reaches down and gently picks her up. “Got you, you little rascal. Were you making life difficult for your momma?” She gives Alice a nuzzle.

“She’s been such a naughty bunny tonight,” Kate sighs. “I can’t tell you how many times she tried to nibble my dress. And poor Alyssa! Alice got half her corsage before either of us figured out what was happening.”

“Aww, I missed Alyssa?”

“Sorry; she had to finish her own makeup. She did mine, too. Is it too much? I haven’t gotten a chance to check.”

Chloe looks over at Kate and nearly topples over onto her ass, bunny and all. Kate looks beautiful, but that’s nothing unusual; she always looks beautiful. The subtle makeup that Alyssa’s used on her sets off her natural beauty perfectly, understated but lovely as always. Her hair’s in a braid with loose tendrils framing her face, which is a style Chloe’s never seen on her before and definitely could get used to seeing. And her dress is… Well. It’s a lovely dress; Chloe’s no great authority on dresses - she hasn’t worn one willingly since she was about four - but she can tell that much. It’s definitely picked up some dust here and there from Kate’s adventure under her bed, but it’s still obviously a nice dress. Tasteful, of course, or at least it would be if it were zipped in the back.

Which it definitely isn’t. 

On anyone else, it would still be a modest look. But on Kate… This is by far the most of her that Chloe’s seen in months of dating. Kate’s very much a “take it slow” kind of person, and even though historically Chloe’s tended to be more of a “take it as soon and as often as I can get it” kind of person she respects Kate’s boundaries and is happy to let her girlfriend set the pace. So getting an eyeful of Kate’s naked collarbones, the round curve of an exposed shoulder, the suggestion of a bared back is basically the Kate Marsh equivalent of a nip slip.

“Um.”

“Oh, no, is it too much? I asked her not to do anything too excessive…”

“No, no, makeup’s fine. Great, even. You look… amazing.” Chloe wobbles onto her feet and holds out a hand to help Kate up. She presses a kiss into Alice’s soft fur and walks her over to her open cage. “Okay, cage time for bunnies. No more mischief tonight.” She tucks Alice inside and locks the cage door behind her.

“You’re so good with her,” Kate says, wrapping her arms around Chloe’s waist from behind. Normally she’d burrow her face into Chloe’s back, but she restrains herself and Chloe appreciates the effort to preserve the integrity of her suit even as she misses the contact. “This is the best behaved she’s been all night.”

“What can I say? You’re her mom; of course she’s going to rebel. Me, I’m more like the cool aunt.”

“Hmm. Cool step-mom, maybe.”

Chloe’s face warms with blush. She reaches down to place her hands over Kate’s and gives them an affectionate squeeze. “You, uh, you almost ready to go, babe?”

“Almost.” Kate pulls back and Chloe turns around to face her. It’s a struggle, but she keeps her eyes fixed on Kate’s face even as they long to trace the delicate, graceful line of her clavicles. Then Kate turns her back to Chloe, glancing back at her over her shoulder with a soft smile. “Zip me up?”

Chloe blinks stupidly for several seconds before she answers with a silent nod. Her mouth is too dry to speak human words. She has to close her eyes and collect herself for a moment when Kate turns her head away again, waiting patiently for her assistance. Her hands are actually shaking as she reaches for Kate, which is stupid. She’s literally stripped women before. She’s just helping one put more clothes on. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking over that.

She tenderly sweeps Kate’s braid aside with one hand, draping it forward over her shoulder to keep it clear of the zipper. Her fingertip barely skirts against the bared skin of Kate’s back, but she can feel her warmth like a brand. Chloe takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly to steady herself as she reaches for Kate’s zipper pull. It’s only when she sees Kate squirm slightly that she realizes she’s released her breath directly against Kate’s exposed back. She freezes.

“It’s okay,” Kate says when she feels Chloe tense up. 

Chloe tries to force herself to relax. She attempts to ease the zipper up and it catches within the first inch. Tentatively, she reaches to brace one hand against Kate’s hip for leverage. The zipper slides free and Chloe delicately zips up the back of Kate’s dress. It traces the elegant line of her spine up toward the perfect points of her shoulder blades (Chloe notes two small birthmarks on Kate’s left just above her bra and suppresses the urge to lean down and kiss each in turn). 

Chloe reaches around to gently guide Kate’s braid back to its rightful place when she’s done. She leans in boldly to press a kiss to Kate’s (still bare) shoulder, pausing millimeters away to give Kate time to signal her yes or no. Kate gives a small but unambiguous nod and Chloe kisses her shoulder firmly. Kate reaches her other arm across to tangle fingers in Chloe’s hair, holding her there gently for a moment.

Kate gives a contented sigh when Chloe pulls back, slipping her fingers free from Chloe’s blue locks. “Sorry if I messed up your hair.”

“Worth it,” Chloe tells her with a grin. She steals a quick moment to check her hair in Kate’s mirror, prompting a knowing giggle from her girlfriend. The damage is minimal; definitely worth it. She tidies it with a few quick sweeps of her hands. 

Kate steps into the frame and slips an arm around Chloe’s waist. Chloe reciprocates with an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “What do you think?” Kate asks. “Prom Queens?”

Chloe wrinkles her nose. “I’ll be happy as long as they don’t dump pig’s blood on us. Anyway, I think someone would have to stuff the ballot box pretty hard for me to get elected anything at Blackwell after I dropped out.”

“A year after you left to pursue other options,” Kate corrects her. “Now that you’ve got your GED, I don’t think you technically count as a dropout.”

“Aww, but it’s my whole identity,” Chloe teases. She dips her head to drop a light kiss to the top of Kate’s head as Kate scowls playfully.

“Guess you’ll have to develop a new one, then.” She squeezes Chloe’s hip hard enough to shut her up. “You look really good in that tuxedo. I can’t wait to show you off.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? Not still worried about what people are gonna say when they see our prom pictures?”

“I’m still concerned,” Kate says thoughtfully. “But I’m more excited. I never thought I’d get to have this.” She turns to look at Chloe, and there’s so much warmth in her eyes that Chloe feels a sudden threatening prickle of tears in her own. “My mother and aunt fed me so many… bitter thoughts about what being gay might mean. All the things I’d never get to do or have because I didn’t think that gay people were allowed them. I never thought I’d get to love someone so much. I never thought I’d get to be loved in return. I never thought I’d get to just be a normal, happy girl on prom night, getting ready with her prom date to go and dance with her friends and have fun like anybody else. But look at me. Look at us!” She turns back to the mirror, leaning into Chloe’s arm. “We’re doing this. I’m going to the prom with my girlfriend, and we look amazing together, and we’re going to pose for stupid pictures and dance until our feet hurt and celebrate with our friends, and at the end of the night you’re going to walk me back to my room and kiss me goodnight because I won’t have to worry about my lipstick anymore and it’s all going to be perfect. And even if it isn’t perfect, it’s going to be ours.”

Chloe feels like she’s going to shake apart she’s so close to crying, eyeliner be damned. “H-hey, Katie?”

“Mm?” Kate turns to look at her sweetly, and god how did Chloe get so lucky to end up with this incredible girl.

“How much do you really care about the lipstick thing? Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

A dimpled smile breaks out across Kate’s face and Kate goes up on tiptoes, touching Chloe’s face lightly as she tilts up her face to kiss her. Chloe does her best to kiss her back like a normal person and not like a drowning woman. “Not as much as I care about you,” Kate answers when they pull apart again. She wipes a stray tear from Chloe’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so fucking okay. I might be the most okay I’ve ever been in my whole stupid life.” Chloe plants another kiss on Kate’s forehead. She’s about to start leading Kate to the door when she realizes she’s forgotten something important. She fumbles the corsage out of the inner pocket of her dad’s jacket and presents it to Kate. “Come on, let’s finish getting you suited up so we can light up the fucking dance floor and give all the haters the middle finger. The metaphorical middle finger,” she amends when Kate starts to open her mouth. “Not gonna get myself thrown out of your prom; don’t worry.”

Kate holds out her wrist and Chloe has to bend to slide the corsage into place. There’s a surreal moment when she’s holding Kate’s perfect hand in hers and gently guiding the corsage into place, practically down on one knee to get the proper angle, where she wonders if this is what it might feel like to propose. She can see it so clearly in her mind’s eye: getting down on one knee, probably wearing this same tuxedo because that way it’s like her dad would get to be there, still holding Kate’s hand, still looking up into her beautiful and shining eyes as she gazes down at her with more love than any human heart could hold, Gramma Price’s ring resized to fit Kate’s finger…

Chloe wobbles, suddenly lightheaded, and Kate reaches out to steady her the way she always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asks again, brow furrowing slightly with concern.

Chloe presses a reverent kiss to Kate’s knuckles and rises back to her feet. “I’m good,” she says, trying not to sound as dazed as she feels. “I’m great. I’m fucking amazing. You’re amazing. We’re amazing. Let’s go show all of Blackwell how fucking amazing we are.” 

Kate nods, grinning. “Yes, please.” She holds out her hand and Chloe takes it. Before they can make it all the way to the door, Chloe’s phone buzzes in her pocket. With an exaggerated sigh, she pauses to check it.

Mom: Chloe Elizabeth Price, don’t you dare forget to send me pictures!

Kate reads over her shoulder. “Maybe we should show your mom how amazing we are first?”

Chloe grumbles and rolls her eyes but obligingly opens up the photo ap on her phone. As annoying as Joyce can be (seriously, wtf with the Mom ESP?!), Chloe knows that Kate relishes this kind of maternal approval and that she’s never going to get it from her own mother. Joyce has her faults - fucking hell does she have her faults - but even Chloe has to admit that she’s been pretty awesome with Kate. She’s all but adopted her, honestly.

Chloe holds up her phone and lets Kate nestle under her arm. A perfect fit as always.

“Say ‘prom night!’” Kate says, grinning giddily.

“Prom night!” Chloe says without taking her eyes off of Kate, and she takes the picture.

[gisachi]

Like You Meant It (ShinRan. Prompt-Drabble. Aged-up Characters.)

Prompt 27: Help me i’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second (As requested by @icedcoffeeanyone )

.

.

Ran just wanted some time alone.

There’s nothing a few drinks in her favorite bar across town couldn’t fix, after having a bad day in grad school. She studied so hard only to get a mediocre score in her midterm exam, and having been the first to get called in the class of her most terror law professor and practically getting none of his questions correctly, she knew right then that she was bound to end up in this pub.

She needed this time alone to pull herself together, because she swore to god, law school’s going to be the death of her.

She checked her phone.

Seven unread mails and four missed calls from her best friend.

Yes, she’d talk to him after she’s sobered up, but right now she needed no one. What she needed was a break. Wallow in distress on her own. So that when she finally decided to rant to him, she wouldn’t overflow and freak him out.

But how she wished she invited some two or three classmates around.

Because damn, these alcoholic dudes wouldn’t give her peace.

She rolled her eyes at the sight and smell of one salaryman who sat next to her. He had a wedding ring and yet here he was, on a Friday night, asking her, in a suggestive way, her name, age, location? Gross. People like him should be banned from this bar.

She circled the other side, looking for an actual table instead of sitting at the counter by the bartender. Just as she thought she finally found a good spot, another guy, this time her age, took the vacant seat across her. He looked pretty decent. She would’ve actually entertained his small talk. But the thing was, she wasn’t here to socialize. She was here to drink. In peace.

So when this guy - he mentioned his name five seconds ago but she already forgot - started to get talkative and a little touchy, the time bomb in her head started to tick.

Could people not take a hint?

“You waiting for someone?”

“Yes.” She lied.

“Hmm.” He arched one brow suspiciously.

“What about this. While she ain’t around yet—“

“He.”

“Oh.” She gave him that signal to leave.

But he was persistent; he didn’t seem threatened one bit.

“Okay. While he,” putting emphasis on the pronoun, “ain’t around yet, why not let me get you a drink?”

“No thanks, I—“

“C’mon sweet thing, just one drink.”

She was mortified.

First of all, ‘sweet thing’?! Really gross. Second of all, I said no. Respect that, please?

She could karate chop him that exact moment, but she remembered how that went with the previous bar she visited, which ended in a disaster and her name almost getting blacklisted.

Which totally turned her off because why the hell would the bar do that? She was just defending herself from perverted adults who thought a woman in a bar alone meant she was looking for a hook-up.

Ran’s eyes rolled skyward. One reason why it’s hard being a woman.

“Whatever.” She thoughtlessly replied. If that would mean him leaving her alone. Then once he disappeared she’d go pay for her drinks and take a cab back home.

“That’s more I like it.” He winked, before turning around and leaving the table.

Gosh. Walk away. Please. Disappear.

But damn, she couldn’t just leave. She still wanted to drink. But how could she do that now?

Ugh. How frustrating.

She must have been so deep in thought that she failed to catch another figure sallying forth her table.

“There you freaking are.”

Ran deadpanned to her right, only to be met by a pair of furious azure blue eyes she knew all too well.

“Oh... Hello, Shinichi.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Ran, please. Don’t just hello me. You didn’t even leave me on read.”

“I... ah. Yes.”

Instead of verbalizing his disappointment, Shinichi flung his arms to his side, brows bumping together in a scowl as he shook his head.

Ran shrugged, taking two big gulps from her mug.

“I had a shitty day, okay.”

He pulled the chair beside her and sat down. “I figured that much. And can most definitely confirm now.”

The bite in his tone was enough to make her understand that he was really... pissed. Pissed at her dismissive attitude.

“How did you even find me?”

“Short answer? Simple deduction. Long answer? Your phone was still ringing so I know it wasn’t dead. It was pretty new so battery life lasts the whole day. So you’re either just not checking your phone or was flat out ignoring me. But you always check your phone. Now this morning you told me that the results of your Civil Law midterm will be released, and I remembered you saying that if you get a not so good score you’re going to drink it all up. Assuming that—“

“Okay.” She waved an invisible white flag. “You can stop now, I get it.”

He sighed, leaned his chin on his hand, eyes serious.

“So, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Everything wrong with your day.”

Instead of answering, she just played with the rim of her mug.

“We’re not best friends for nothing, right?” He said, voice more solemn this time.

She exhaled sharply. She really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Bad day in school. Don’t wanna talk about it yet.”

“Bad enough to ignore all my messages and calls?” He leaned back his chair. ” ‘Cause you know, I was pretty damn worried.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d be worried, it’s just that—"

She cut herself short, head perking up like an alert prey.

“It’s just that…?”

“Crap. He’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

He tried to turn his head to where she was looking but was cut off with her two hands clasping his face.

“Stay put, Shinichi. Pretend you’re not mad at me right now. Okay?”

She released her hands.

“O...kay?”

Her voice became lower, tone a lot more serious than before. “And I pray you won’t get mad at me for asking you to do me this favor.”

His forehead creased, unsure of where exactly this conversation was going.

“You’re confusing me, Ran.”

Ran took a deep breath, eyes intently focused on a distant spot next to Shinichi’s temple.

"Someone was hitting on me before you arrived and I managed to get him to leave but now he’s approaching our table again and, and, ugh fuck this! Why can’t men just leave women sitting quietly alone!”

His face became visibly upset.

“Shall I face him? Tell him to back off?”

“No.” She edged closer to him, like she was about to share a deep secret.

“Please act like my boyfriend and kiss me.”

His chair raked the floor.

“...HUH?!”

“Shinichi,” she continued, not in the slightest surprised by his reaction, “trust me when I say he looks like the type who won’t be intimidated by a friend nor back down from ‘competition’. Which is absurd because I’m not some goddamn prize for him to win. The only way to drive him off is if the woman he’s hitting on has a boyfriend.”

Ran downed the remaining beer in her mug.

“Let’s kiss, we’ll make it hot, so hot that he’ll get so awkward and leave us alone. And then I’ll tell you everything that’s wrong with my day.”

Shinichi blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

One thing ran in his mind.

Who was this bold woman and what had she done to my best friend?

“We’re not best friends for nothing…right?” She said, repeating his earlier statement.

“Ran...”

“Trust me. And help me on this, please.”

Fierce determination blazed her eyes, pent-up frustration preventing her from filtering her own words.

Yes, this was his best friend. And with fire burning in her eyes like that, he knew she was not joking. She was in desperate need of his help, and she trusted him that he’d understand.

No further questions needed.

But still though... what?!

“Okay...” he exhaled sharply. “Okay.”

He slowly dragged his chair towards her, sitting himself on its edge. Aligning his face with hers, he seized her left hand and carefully placed it on his cheek.

“Do it. Kiss me.” His voice died into a whisper. “Now.”

Ran’s eyes widened.

It was only then that she realized what she actually asked of him.

“Wait. Shinichi. I-...Y-you... is it okay?”

“Ran, we’ve been talking for more or less 20 seconds, I bet he’s already halfway here. So if you’re gonna do it, do it now.”

He was right. The dude got nearer, holding two mugs of beer which she assumed was for him and her. And there was this murderous look in his eyes, probably because of the third party in the table.

The nerve of this random dude to glare at her best friend like that.

She really had to do this, huh.

“I’m sorry, Shinichi. I...” she cupped his other cheek nervously. “I’ll do it.”

His eyes didn’t leave her face.

“Mm. Ready when you are.”

With a sharp intake of breath, she leaned forward and slowly...surely, captured his lips.

For a moment, Ran’s time stood still.

A groan escaped Shinichi’s throat from the sudden pressure of their lips mashing together, and Ran felt the roots of her hair stand up. Wow. She had never heard him produce that sound before.

His lips. His groan. His face.

That’s when she realized.

This was really happening.

This was not just a kiss. This was her first kiss.

And she’s sharing it with her best friend.

Her best friend...!

She internally panicked.

She never really planned anything like this to happen.

What should she do next?!

Before she could think, Shinichi’s lips started moving. His right hand snaked the base of her neck until it nestled on her nape, entangling her hair with his fingers.

They’d part lips, only to ease in again, at first experimentally, and the succeeding ones, feelingly. Every round got deeper than the previous one. She didn’t know if she was doing this right.

In her head, it was weird.

But other than that, everything felt right.

They separated with a loud smack, him looking at her with dark eyes. His breath was erratic, Adam’s apple protruding as he swallowed, lips red like cherries. She realized she had never seen his attractive features up close like this before.

Really? Had she been missing this all her life?

Without waiting a second more, she pulled him into one searing kiss, hands leaving his cheeks, lowering to his chest.

“Ran...” He gruntled, the rest of his air swallowed by her demanding lips.

Stop saying my name like that.

He pulled away, fast. Much to her surprise.

But what surprised her more was when he leaned his head down, leveling her neck, kissing her clavicle.

“Shin—“

She squirmed in her chair.

He trailed kisses on the column of her throat, his hand on her nape urging her to tilt her head sideways for better access. She complied earnestly, hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer, eliminating whatever space they had in between. His other hand tightened around her waist, one knee snugged comfortably between her legs.

Damn. Everything felt good.

She jolted when he reached her ear, softly pressing his lips on her lobe. She would’ve moaned in exhilaration, had he not whispered,

“Check.”

“Hn?” she purred, voice a little too dazed.

“Check if he’s still there.” He ordered, voice low and guttural.

Oh, right. We’re still doing that.

Ran struggled with all her might to keep her eyes open, scanning the area behind her pretend boyfriend she was eagerly...’pretend’ making out with.

No annoying dude in sight.

Just some stupefied faces manifestly directed at them.

“He’s - ah!” she whimpered when his teeth nibbled the edge of her ear. Good lord. What was he doing to her?

Making her feel hot and all. Shit.

“He’s... gone.”

She wished she had delayed her reply. Because as soon as she said that, the sensitive sensation in her ear disappeared, and she felt the weight of his forehead on her shoulder. His sweaty hands remained on her nape and waist, Ran audibly hearing his labored breathing.

...

What was that?

Did her heart just sink upon the loss of contact of his lips against her skin?

“That’s it. I’m taking you home. Now.”

Her heart floated back.

“Wh-wait what?”

“I said I’ll take you home.”

“Eh?! But, i-it’s just, y’know... I just said, k-kiss, not uh... aren’t you taking it too seriously... or something?”

Shinichi raised his head.

“Haah? What are you blabbering about?! I’ll take you back to your house, Ran. Not mine. It’s way past bedtime.”

Ran blinked.

Well, that was embarrassing.

He untangled her hair from his hand and released his hold on her waist.

“Do you want me to take you to my house?”

“What?! N-no!”

Maybe. Yes.

“Good. Because I won’t.”

...Ouch?

His eyes flitted away.

“Especially...after... that.”

The bar was dim and noisy, and Ran was unsure if the alcohol was making her hallucinate the rose-tinged shade on his cheeks and ears, or making her hear a restrained follow-up from him, or both.

“Did you say something, Shinichi?”

“What?”

“What?”

They stared at each other for an hour-long minute, before he huffed a breath and stood on his feet.

“It’s the beer. You’re tipsy and you must be hearing things. I’ll pay for the bill and I’ll take you home.”

“Y-you really don’t have to—“

“I’m still mad at you, you know. Geez.”

He approached the bartender to pay for the drinks. She watched his back as he disappeared from her line of sight.

Mad at me.

Yet you kissed me like that.

Did you feel it?

‘Cause I might have felt it, too.

…

Something definitely changed, though she couldn’t say what.

“Th-Thanks, Shinichi.” She said, the moment he returned.

“Whatever. We’ll talk about...everything, tomorrow.”

He took her hand, and she let him. She rose from her seat and, with semi-wobbling feet, they ambled their way out the bar, eyes of random women following Shinichi’s handsome face as they passed by them. He didn’t give a damn.

He just held her hand tighter.

“Or now if you want to go to WacDonalds to sober up.”

She smiled.

“Great idea.”

.

.

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (3)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 5.3k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

ON THE NECESSITY OF GRAND ROYAL BALLS by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, September 6

In one's life, what would be considered basic necessities? Food, shelter, clothing, mayhaps a life partner? Indeed, such factors are important. Yet allow me to tell you, dear readers, that there is something far greater and more magnificent than mere daily needs which regularly perish in less than a common laborer's working hours! An element which elevates the typical human experience to the realms of the ancient gods; giving us a glimpse of the most beautiful, the most majestic blinding auras in this Universe! A necessity which is by far the most crucial of all inventions created by man, known to man! 

That, my friends, is the Grand Royal Ball. 

To be held a week from now at the Crystal Palace, the Grand Royal Ball only admits through invites, usually reserved for the rich and the powerful. Yet what is most anticipated is the glamorous First Waltz where they can showcase their magnificent beauty and impressive wardrobe for the public to see! 

Yet this is simply a mere gathering for the upper class, you say? What, in heaven's name, is the reason why this event is of great importance, you ask?

Look closely, my dear readers! Look at the Grand Royal Ball! Look at it with eyes of impunity! Gaze at its splendor and radiance, and see what these people have robbed from you, from the common people! They who have been brought into this world with silver spoons in their mouths, feed us with scraps from their abundant golden banquets! Banquets such as the Grand Royal Ball, where crimes of extravagance and greed go unpunished in the eyes of god.

Do not forget who mines the diamonds in their earrings, who weaves the silk on their lapels, who farms the fruit in their white marble tables! They who afforded nay a drop of sweat in order to survive, yet admonishes the poor for 'indolence' and 'degradation of moral values'--remember them and do not dare forget in the face of their magnificence! 

If these sheer words do not convey a clearer message to you, then allow me to reiterate. The Grand Royal Ball is an important reminder to you common folk who gaze at them in your grease-stained hands, growling stomachs and exhausted eyes. This is a wake up call to you who still believe that you can be like them, wearing your own beautiful gowns and respectable suits to your own grand royal balls. This is a reminder to look past illusions established by this society dictated by such people. 

You are being exploited. You are being paid by less than what you are worth. If that does not constitute slavery, then there is no worth in reading this article. If you are yet to be angered by such realities through this piece, then I, as an editor have failed my mission. Realize that your fellow laborer is not your adversary. The true cold-blooded monsters are up there in their hectares-wide plantations, sitting on leather chairs and pretending to be your friend, as they casually strategize how to pay you less and less of your appropriate wage, as they search for loopholes in our civil code to perpetuate their evils in the world.

They may look like gods next week, dancing to a waltz in the Crystal Palace with the innocence of a daisy, yet do not be in awe. Do not be complacent.

Do not forget the true enemy. 

◇

"You're going to the ball."

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung declared, under the purple shade of the wisteria tree in the courtyard, their seriousness catching you off-guard.

"What?!" You shouted, almost choking on a shrimp. "What do you mean I'm going to the ball?! I just slandered it in our newspaper yesterday, if you hadn't forgotten!"

The two boys gazed at you, eyes pitiful. 

"Don't look at me like that!" 

Wonwoo, the bespectacled one, sighed and sat up straight. 

"Look, this isn't a prank. We had to bargain you for um…"

In the middle of his words he gradually lost steam, and began to feel your furious, scrutinizing gaze. For better or worse, he suddenly found the garlic shrimp on his plate quite interesting. 

"Alright, let me handle this!" Soonyoung proudly declared, yet nonetheless deflated after you gave him a similar glare. "Wonwoo...you should handle this after all…"

With a face that may seem calm, Wonwoo conveniently concealed his discomfort. 

"So, um...alright, allow me to explain. I got a bit of a lead on the investigation we're doing and thus, following that trail led me to the ball," he continued, "Apparently, there will be a gathering of the people involved during the evening, and I needed to get in with Soonyoung. So I asked some help, and in exchange, they wanted you."

After listening to his story, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily. There was no way you could stop him even if you wanted to. The deal was done and he had the invitation. 

"So, who's they?" 

You asked, a bit annoyed but you understood the need.

"That would be me."

A familiar voice startled you from behind, as you finally caught a glimpse of the devil Wonwoo had to make a pact with. 

"Jihoon, didn't know you were there," Wonwoo remarked, as the new arrival bent down and passed a heavy binder to him. 

"I just arrived really. Thank you for the reading notes though," he replied, paying you and Soonyoung no heed. "Anyway, Y/N, please return to our room as soon as you finish class. We have to talk about what you're going to wear for the ball."

Jihoon ordered, then stalked away without waiting for a reply, leaving you taken aback. 

After a few moments, you turned to Wonwoo wearing a rather frightening expression on your face.

"Jeon Wonwoo! How dare you bargain me to Lee Jihoon!!" 

◇

'Do you despise Lee Jihoon that much?' 

The voice inside your head asked, completely eclipsing the words of your professor. 

'Do you really have to talk to me during class? ' You snarled, spinning your pen around as you watched one of your classmates getting scolded for sleeping. 

'You don't even like this class. So I'm actually doing you a favor by entertaining you.’

'Touché.'

A few moments of silence passed before your soulmate replied. You thought he bailed out, yet that was definitely not the case.

'Lee Jihoon is the reason why you seem troubled today, isn't it?'

You sighed. 'How obstinate...'

'As obstinate as you, in fact. Have you forgotten that we're soulmates?' 

Clicking your tongue, you knew he was going to bother you if you didn't answer, and well, the words from a month ago rang deep inside your heart: Accept them and learn.

'Fine, he does upset me. I mean, I was not supposed to go to that pretentious ball, now I have to wear those heavy dresses and fake laugh with people I despise a lot! I could be doing something else, you know! Something I enjoy more!'

It took him some time to reply. It's not your fault you had no one to talk about it. Wonwoo and Soonyoung literally sacrificed you. 

'Is it not because you dislike him?'

'I am irritated now because of what he did, yet I surely do not harbor stronger hatred towards him. I live with him after all.' 

'I see. So you simply have a dislike towards parties in general?'

'Not entirely. I don't mind going to parties, yet this one particular ball does not sit well with me.' 

'Why so?'

You propped your chin on your hand as you leafed through the pages of your textbook. 

'It goes against everything I believe in. Why do people have to organize such expensive balls? Wearing expensive clothes? Eating expensive food? They could just donate that money. Don't you think so?' 

He hummed, thinking of a reply. 'You do have a point. Furthermore, it is not only this country's problem yet of entire humanity. Isn't it human nature to be greedy? Isn't it the nature of material objects to be scarce?' 

'Thus, it is an unavoidable, inevitable problem, you mean to say? Well, that would definitely be the case if no effort is afforded to find a solution to this problem. No matter how minute my actions are, I'm sure they would still have a rippling effect.' 

The person on the other side scoffed. 'If only that is how simple things are.' 

'What do you mean by that? Are you calling me naive?' 

He laughed. 'Whatever you think it is shall be its meaning.' 

You were about to interject with your own retort yet was unable to catch up. 

'Well, looks like I still have things to do. It was a pleasure talking to you today. Until then, my soulmate.'

And with that, the connection halted. 

You sighed and slumped on your seat with lips pursed. It was difficult talking to him while keeping your own pride in check. He was definitely talented in wounding it. 

They would magnify your insecurities, your fears, your greatest flaws as a person, and force you to face them.

Sighing, you glanced at the bell that had begun to signal the end of class. 

◇

Bathed in golden sunlight, you entered your dorm room as instructed by Lee Jihoon. 

It has been a month since you began living here yet the days seemed to have gone in a flash. To be honest, other than that time you saw him practicing with his cello, there was little to no interaction between you and Lee Jihoon. He really made sure to avoid me…

Yet right now, so suddenly…what has changed?

Opening the french doors like you did when you first met him, you were greeted by several female attendants and rows of clothes racks, each having a massive collection of gowns.

"Took you long enough to return."

Someone suddenly spoke behind you, making you jump in surprise. Taking a step back, you only bumped into Lee Jihoon's chest. 

"I had to go to the library on the way here," you replied, making some distance between the two of you as the black-haired male marched his way to a vacant armchair. 

"I see. Well then, shall we begin our business here?" He asked as soon as he was settled on his seat, glancing at the gowns at the side. 

"Exactly what I had in mind. Do you wish to explain what these are for?"

With an expression that reeked irritation, Jihoon gave no response to a question he assumed you knew the answer to. 

You sighed. "What I mean is, I thought you had already chosen something for me, so I was quite surprised to see all of these." 

The both of you simply gazed at one another without uttering a single word. Only the sound of the clock ticking and the afternoon bells outside could be heard as you allowed yourselves to be absorbed in your own little trance. Until Jihoon finally relented and stood up. 

"I just thought you would rather choose something akin to your own preference," he told you, scratching his nape, "additionally, these ones here are all about to be thrown out, so maybe you--"

"These ones are about to be thrown out?! But they still look so pretty!" You interrupted, wholly surprised as you inspected the exquisite bead work of the nearest dress to you. 

"It's common for people in the upper class to throw away gowns after wearing it once. So I thought you'd appreciate wearing something like this rather than having something new ordered. We could give away the other ones here as well," Jihoon explained, now a bit conscious of your reaction. 

Chuckling at how he was slowly becoming bashful, you threw a wide grin at him which Jihoon was sure had definitely caught his breath. 

"That was so thoughtful of you! Thank you!" You exclaimed, now more than interested to browse at the racks. 

Unable to respond, Jihoon silently allowed you to check out the dresses while he tried to conceal the fact that his ears had turned red. 

"What about you though? Have you already chosen something for yourself?" You asked in the midst of trying out one blue sequined gown. 

"Since I’m a member of the Parliament, we have to wear a standard ceremonial uniform," he replied, now seated back on the armchair.

"Is that so?" You hummed then continued, "I think I've decided on one so allow me to finish."

After some time, you returned to the common room, showing Jihoon the gown you had picked for the occasion. 

In a beige off-shoulder gown filled with lace trims and appliques, peacock feather patterns of sequins and gemstones, and dangling diamonds, you twirled around the room as the late afternoon sunlight created surreal reflections of light as it reflected on your dress. 

In Jihoon's eyes, you were dazzling, sparkling. He could feel his heart almost explode by how hard it was beating against his chest. What's missing though was a bouquet of roses and a lace veil. This is vexing...

"So what do you think?" You asked, now incredibly self-conscious because of how he was staring at you.

Again, Jihoon was quiet as he glanced at you, yet allowed a sigh to escape before he stood up from where he was sitting. Approaching the coffee table, he picked up a lacquered box and went back to where you were standing.

As he opened the box, you caught a glimpse of a necklace adorned with diamonds, garnets and rubies, sparkling earnestly. Handing the box to one of the attendants, Jihoon held out the necklace to you and wrapped it around your neck.

The close proximity made your heart race for a bit as you unintentionally took a whiff of his cologne. Aware of your reaction, you averted your gaze elsewhere in embarrassment. You were brought back to the present when Jihoon finally took a step back and you felt the weight of the necklace on your skin. 

"Oh...wow, this…" you began yet cannot finish.

"It's a family heirloom so take care of it." Then in a rather unexpected turn, Jihoon smiled at you warmly, making your heart race even further. "It suits you quite well."

Unable to contain it any longer, your lips broke out a wide grin. "I suppose this is a loan then." 

In a rather good mood, Jihoon took your hand in his. "How about we practice our dance? Surely, we wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves during the First Waltz."

You scoffed. "Despite how I may appear, I am capable of a simple waltz."

"That's reassuring then," he remarked, twirling you around so suddenly that had you gasping.

Back in his arms, the both of you moved back and forth as your feet danced to an imaginary melody. 

You never shied away from his intense gaze, rather, you accepted the challenge and smirked at him. 

"So, my dear sir, please answer this burning question I have in my heart," you mocked him playfully. 

"Why are you talking to me like that?" He furrowed his brows which you found adorable.

"I thought since we are to attend such a high profile event, utter politeness is necessary, even in speech."

Jihoon frowned, unimpressed. "Please stop teasing me. What was your question, by the way?" 

Chuckling, you replied, "What are you planning, Lee Jihoon?"

Even though you were still smiling, the atmosphere suddenly turned tense. Lee Jihoon can flatter you with pretty dresses and beautiful diamond necklaces yet you never cared much for them in the first place. To you, his actions were suspicious and it didn't help that he was a rather mysterious person. 

"Planning? Pardon me yet I do not know what you are pertaining to," he replied, as calm as you were. 

"What are you planning by choosing me as your partner? You could have made Wonwoo bargain a million other things, yet you chose me."

This time, it was Jihoon's turn to smirk. 

"I was simply confirming a few hunches, though that does not mean I will divulge them to you." 

This bastard…

You felt a sweatdrop trickle down your cheek as you grit your teeth. "I am not your toy." 

"I wouldn't dream of treating you as such," he grinned at you, "More than anything, you are quite important to me."

"I'd rather wish not to be involved in your political ploys," you seethed. 

He arched a brow at you. "Why would I? You are a mere alchemist's daughter whose political power is the same as the next person." 

You knew where this was going. You spoke no word as you tried to control your expression; not allowing him to see it in your face.

Jihoon smirked, his words hanging on the air.

"Unless, you have more than you let on?" 

*

One week later

The Grand Royal Ball, The Crystal Palace

You kept a tight smile.

The tip of your nose was itching, your skin unused to the makeup covering your face. Superficiality lingered and clung to every corner of the palace from its golden ornaments and marble balustrades to the couples ahead of you, marching their way towards the ballroom for the much awaited First Waltz.Yet you have to smile on. 

Welcome to the Grand Royal Ball!

Beside you was Lee Jihoon, dressed in an attire reserved for high-ranking officials and a sash which proudly broadcasts that he was someone you wouldn't want to mess with. You, on the other hand, wore the gown and the necklace you had tried on a week before, with hair coiffed to perfection and silk gloves which hid the markings on your wrist.

Only the most prominent, the highest  of the high were invited to dance during  the First Waltz.  From billionaire philanthropists and award-winning researchers to  powerful politicians like Lee Jihoon, they all  provide a sense of  prestige to the whole event. This is when the ball catches so much attention after all. 

Lining up uniformly, everyone participating curtsied before the reigning monarch as was the custom, and the music began playing. Facing Jihoon, you gave him a rather mocking smile as you placed your hand on his shoulder and the other on his hand. 

Without a word, everyone began dancing. 

As you stepped across the ballroom, you allowed your mind to slip away from reality; the face of Lee Jihoon reminding you why you were putting up with this sort of pompous absurdity in the first place.

A few days ago… 

You groaned in frustration. 

"I swear, Lee Jihoon is the most irritating man I've ever met in my entire life!" 

"Let's wait for him to fall asleep and beat him up, Y/N!" Soonyoung, who was happily lazing on the grass exclaimed.

"Come on, then! He's already asleep at this hour!" You responded, quite eagerly.

Simply sighing at your shenanigans, Wonwoo closed the book he was reading. 

"Don't listen to him, Y/N. He's drunk," he remarked. 

"But I haven't been drinking!!" 

The other man simply looked at him with a jaded look on his face. 

"You're always drunk even without drinking anything," Wonwoo quietly retorted. "Anyway, Y/N…"

Sitting back down on the grass, you turned to him. It was already past midnight yet the three of you decided to hold a meeting at a long forgotten grove behind the dormitories, usually used by overly-zealous couples for their own pleasure.

"It's true that Jihoon can be cunning if he wants to, yet it's not like we can't do the same as well," he continued, "There's a reason why I had no reservations in bargaining you."

"That doesn't sound too comforting, you know?" 

"As I was saying, Lee Jihoon can be cunning. He can't be trusted to stay at the venue while we are in that meeting. That is precisely why we have to get him out of the venue as soon as possible." 

You nodded. It was the same reason why it wasn't you who was leading this investigation. 

"So my job is to have him stay away from the palace while you and Soonyoung are in the meeting. Alright, I understand."

Wonwoo sighed. "Y/N, I'm not doing this because I think your skills are inadequate, but because we need to play by the rules. If things fail and our cover is blown, Soonyoung and I already have tainted names that another case wouldn't matter much. I can't have you dirty your own name." 

Looking down, you understood where he was coming from. It really wasn't an issue of who's weaker or who's stronger. It was an issue of who's richer and more influential. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, because of their wealth and power, were able to establish their own newspaper company with relative ease. And with that same wealth and power, if anything does happen, the repercussions they have to face and its lasting effects wouldn't be as heavy as an ordinary person would experience. Such is the gift of privilege. 

"I know. I understand." 

◇

You knew, as soon as the dance ended, people would flock around Lee Jihoon, all wanting a piece of that power and influence. 

That is why, when you had the chance, you slipped away from his side and went straight to the buffet tables. If you were going to attend a grand ball, might as well stuff yourself with food. 

That veal over there looks scrumptious!! 

Filling your plate to the brim, you scoured all over the buffet, finding food you have never dreamed of tasting. 

"Y/N! We finally found you, for god's sake! We thought something happened to you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, making you look up from the plate you were feasting on, as you sat on a bench at the side. 

"Ah, Soonyoung, Wonwoo! I didn't see you guys at the dance!" You replied, piercing a turkey leg with your fork. 

"Well, that's because we weren't invited to the dance. Our parents are though, since they are the VIPs," Wonwoo explained.

You hummed. "I see. Well, so far this ball has delicious food. Other than that, it's quite boring. I don't know half these people, and they've been looking at me since a while ago."

Like he always is, Soonyoung embraced you from behind, wrapping his arms around your neck with a cheeky green. 

"Your date is quite popular, you know? It's only natural for people to be curious as to the identity of his chosen date," he remarked, taking a bite of meat from your fork. 

"You're making it sound so romantic," you spat with disdain.

Soonyoung grinned. "Come on, don't you feel anything for our resident politician? You two were dancing so nicely earlier, you know."  

You clicked your tongue. "He's suspicious of me. I think he has a hunch that I'm Alex Fireflower." 

"This is why the Soulmate Bond hasn't visited you yet! You're always so serious! You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life! You can't be young forever!"

"I think Soonyoung has a point here though," Wonwoo suddenly interjected, now with a mischievous smile. "Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities of information gathering. Moreover, you can monitor him more closely than ever before." 

"Oh god, not you too. Isn't it enough that we're roommates?" You complained, sighing.

"No, no! That's not going to cut it, Y/N!" Soonyoung exclaimed, "You have to get inside his room!" 

Glaring at him, you hissed harshly. "I will not enter his room! And I will never date him!"

"Has no one ever told you to avoid using 'never', especially when there is a chance that you will be eating your own words in the near future?" 

A new voice suddenly interrupted your banter as the three of you glanced at the newcomer with a variety of expressions.

In his calm yet intimidating aura, Lee Jihoon stood before you three, waiting for a response. Of course, with a glass of wine in his hands. 

"Has no one ever told you that it's not good manners to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" You retorted back. 

With arched brows, Jihoon approached you and glanced at Soonyoung who eventually retreated away from you and back to Wonwoo's side with a nervous look on his face.

"It's hardly eavesdropping when I can hear you three screaming from the other side of the room."

At this comment, the three of you looked away in shame, unable to say anything to refute Jihoon.

"If there is nothing else, may I borrow my date for a while?" He then spoke, reaching for your hand while looking at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. 

Grinning, the two easily offered you. 

"Please do, Jihoon (before we turn into mincemeat)."

"Oh of course, please enjoy the rest of the night!"

You grit your teeth and glared at them, annoyed that you weren't able to finish your meal, much less bring anything with you back home. 

Traitors! I'll come back for you two after this!

As Jihoon swept you away from the buffet tables and towards the deserted balcony, you suddenly began to worry about what he was up to.

While dark and cool, the balcony was a pleasant place to escape to especially from a crowd of prying eyes. The crawling rose vines and the tall hedges concealed the area enough so that it was difficult to discern who was who in the balcony. 

"What is it that you want from me?" You finally asked, standing face to face. 

For a moment, Jihoon simply gazed at you before shrugging. "I just thought that since we are already here, we might as well enjoy a dance together. I am not one unkind enough to refuse dancing with my own date."

Arching a brow, you blinked several times, totally suspicious of his intentions. You sighed.

"And here I thought the thirty minute waltz from earlier would suffice," tartly, that was how you replied. 

Jihoon snorted, the first one you have seen. 

"That was simply a mere performance, one that is born out of tradition and formality. This time, I wish to dance with you at our own pace."

Still suspicious, yet nonetheless resigned, you hummed in agreement and took a step forward, towards him. 

Without warning, you snatched the wine glass from his grasps and drank everything in one gulp before discarding it on the balustrade's edge, earning a confused look on Jihoon's face.

"Now then, shall we begin?" you replied, reaching for his shoulder and his own hand on yours.

It seemed like for a moment, Jihoon was stunned by how fast your actions were. However, it didn't take him long to come back to his senses and place a hand on your waist.

Gradually, the both of you swung back and forth a millisecond late from the music's beat, simply too absorbed in each other to correct it.

As you gazed into Jihoon's eyes, you knew you needed that swig of alcohol to survive the whole night. He was as intense as ever; his sharp eyes unreadable, his lips curving into a ghost of a smirk. The grip he had on your waist was firm, sending shivers to your spine. 

You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!

Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities...

You mentally shook those thoughts away. This wasn't the right time to think about those things.

"I've changed my mind, you know?" Jihoon finally spoke, his voice pulling you away from your reverie. 

"About what?" You asked, your hand warm on his. 

"I want to know you better. I know when we first met, I didn't want anything to do with you, but for some reason, my sentiments have changed over time."

Flustered at the sudden confession, you were only able to say one thing, "Why?" 

"Why…? Why indeed," he made a soft smile at this, as if he knew something that was totally lost to you. "Maybe if I get to know you more, I might arrive at an answer." 

You looked away, unable to face his earnest eyes. There was a feeling in you that knows he was being honest, yet you still couldn't help but feel suspicious. Why is he suddenly springing this up on me? Why does he want to know me? What is he planning? Who exactly is Lee Jihoon? 

You also didn't know the answer to those questions. But maybe, just maybe, you would understand if you just let him in. 

You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!

God damn it, Soonyoung!

"If that is the case, then feel free to explore, yet that does not mean, the seas are not treacherous," you finally said, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. 

"I wouldn't want anything else."

Grinning back at you, Jihoon leaned forward and placed a small chaste kiss on your forehead, making you look at him with the most stunned expression on your face. 

"I-I...I think I might want to have another drink! J-just stay there! I'll be back!"

As you shouted, you stormed away from the balcony and went straight back to the buffet tables, seeking anything that is liquid, alcoholic or cold to ease the burning on your cheeks. 

"Yes, it seems like I made the right decision with choosing her as my date," he remarked as he watched your retreating figure, smirking to himself.  

By the time you went back, you had already downed a few glasses, and another one on your hand to drink for later. You were tipsy then, as obvious as your flushed cheeks were, and Jihoon had to catch you before you stumbled onto the ground.

"You seemed to have drunk a lot," he remarked as he steadied you on your step.

"...Need it," you muttered, unable to look at him.

"What?"

"Jihoon…" purring, you clung to his lapel with a giggle, your face simply inches away from his. "You...you look quite handsome…have I told you that?" 

With a smirk, you inched closer to him; lips almost brushing against each other. That is, until he turned his head and pushed you away.

"It's late...we should head home."

 His ears were red though.

◇

The school was silent during the dead hours of the night. Students were either prohibited by their curfews or too busy studying to bother with fooling around. Only the soft rustling of wisteria and cherry blossom flowers and the loud ramblings of a drunkard could be heard across the courtyard. 

"Jihoonie~ come on now…don't touch me there," you teased between giggles as he carried you behind his back. 

"Please don't be too loud…"

"I'm not loud! In fact, I'm quite soft spoken~"

"What did I get myself into…?"

You were definitely heavy; and with the weight of the whole dress, Jihoon was already wheezing when he opened the door to your shared dormitory and carried you to your own bed. 

Gently laying you down, Jihoon spent a few moments gazing at you who was smiling at him carelessly. 

"Oh my…" a giggle, "are you going to confess your undying love to me now…?" You asked, making him grin at you. 

"Would you believe me if I did?" Jihoon responded, slowly reaching for your wrist wrapped in a silk and lace glove. 

"Of course not," you smirked. "You're Lee Jihoon." 

Upon your words, he made a small smile, yet it had hinted some sort of deeper sadness. Lifting your hand up, Jihoon kissed the inside of your wrist. 

"Of course."

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 |

*

A/N: Hii!! This is Hyeri again!! No new chapters for next week (instead some Jihoon smut, if you like those sksksk) Hopefully, after that week, regular updates on this fic will continue! (maybe punctuated by some Wonwoo smut;;; Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!!! Thank you so much!!

-Hyeri

[impracticaldemon]

The Shopping Expedition (or, A Gift for Theo) by impracticaldemon

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Characters:  Theodorus (Theo) van Gogh, MC; also Arthur, Comte Canon Setting; Canon Characters Words: ~ 4500  [Also available on AO3 and FFnet]

A/Note:  Written for Theo’s (Cybird) birthday on May 1st. Happy Birthday Theo!  This wasn’t intended to be so long, but I had too much fun writing the Theo x MC interactions. The story assumes that MC has been there for a while already, but there isn’t yet an established romantic relationship.

~Imp

______________________

The Shopping Expedition

Cuff links? Nice, but boring. Gold tie pin? He did wear a cravat when necessary, but I wanted something distinctive. Watch chain? …I couldn’t remember what he used to tell time, although he probably did carry a pocket watch; after all, he was always in a hurry to get somewhere.  Heh—the thought put me in mind of the White Rabbit from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and the image of Theodorus van Gogh wearing bunny ears and a fluffy white tail made me snicker.

It was the day before Theo’s birthday, and I was getting a little—make that a lot—stressed out over what to get him.  I mean, he had everything he needed, between what Monsieur le Comte provided and his own income.  But I’d recently realized that he had very little in the way of personal keepsakes—things he treasured for more than being useful or necessary.  I wanted to find him something special, maybe even something that would make him smile.

Theo had been rude to me from the moment we’d been introduced.  So why was I trying so hard to find him a memorable birthday present? I suppose it was the little things he did in between mocking my (alleged) naiveté and impugning my intelligence. He noticed how hard I worked, for instance, and respected me for it—even checked up on me a few times when he realized I was putting in late night prep work for the next day.  He paid attention to what I was doing, and acknowledged legitimate improvements.  Mind you, his compliments were often buried among his criticisms, but they were sincere and on-point.  And maybe it was my imagination, but there had been a lot fewer insults lately.

I left the jeweller’s—the fourth such shop I’d been in—and frowned down at the paving stones.  The sun was already low in the sky, and I’d promised not to stay out past dusk.  Paris wasn’t a safe place after dark, and a lot of areas weren’t safe at any time. Or so I’d been told, over and over again, by various residents of Chez Comte, including Master Theodorus.

“Planning to take root and grow leaves?”  Snarky comment, snarky tone, big presence.

“Good afternoon to you too, Theo, and how are you today?”

[READ MORE BELOW CUT]

I looked up—quite a ways—and saw the expected sky blue eyes and irritating smirk.  His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, as usual, which made it feel like he was looming over me.  Other shoppers detoured around him without more than a quick glance of annoyance, with the exception of one belligerent young man who called him a rude name that he automatically returned in kind.  They glowered briefly at each other, but there was nothing in it—just an ordinary exchange of ‘civilities’ in Paris of the nineteenth century.  Or any century, come to think of it.

“Seriously, though, you going in or out?”  Theo indicated the shop behind me with his chin.

“I’m fine, thanks.  It’s a nice day, and I don’t often get out to see the city.  Haven’t needed the umbrella so far.”

Eyeroll.  Sigh.  “Give it up already, would you?  Are you here with Sebas?  Little pups like you need a handler—and maybe a leash.  You might get into trouble, otherwise.”

Right.  Why was I trying to find him a birthday present again? Oh yeah, because there was a heart of at least tarnished silver in there somewhere, and… well, I preferred to not think too hard about the rest.  I gave him my best ‘the customer is always right especially when they’re not’ smile. As a travel planner and occasional tour guide for status-conscious co-patriots, I’d had a lot of practice.

“I’m out on my own today, I’m afraid.  Napoleon and Isaac gave me a lift into town, but otherwise I’m completely unsupervised. How about you?  No big brother around to remind you to play nicely with the other children?”

Sadly, I wasn’t able to get a rise out of Theo, although his smirk faded into something closer to genuine amusement.

“What happened to the polite little girl who first arrived at the mansion?  I seem to remember somebody who stuck to ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’ most of the time.”

“Well, I didn’t get the best first impression of the tenants, and where I’m from, civility is often the best defense.”  I was going to add more—about lecherous writers and their syrup-swilling friends—but time was getting short, and not only did I still not have a present, but I was starting to wonder what was going on with Theo.  It was unlike him not to be twitching with impatience by this point in the conversation.  “Hey, Theo?”

“Hm?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but what’s up?”

“What do you mean?  I happened to be in town and saw you blocking traffic—thought I’d better wake you up before somebody knocked you down and stole your lunch money.”

I ignored the usual challenge to my maturity and life skills. “But now we’re both blocking traffic, and you’re always in a hurry when you’re on business.”  The image of the White Rabbit with his giant pocket watch came to mind again, and I added:  “You know—‘I’m late! I’m late!’ and all that.”

Theo frowned, apparently not catching the reference.  It occurred to me that I might be quoting the movie, rather than the book—and would Master Theodorus have bothered to read something as whimsical as Alice in Wonderland?  

“I’m never late for business appointments, hondje–what’s with you?”  Before I could reply, he went on.  “Believe it or not, you have a really terrible sense of self-preservation.  I was just trying to look out for one of God’s dumb creatures, you know?”

“Sure.”  Amazingly, the insult rolled right off me.  Maybe I was finally getting used to him, or maybe it was the dawning awareness that he was genuinely concerned and couldn’t bring himself to admit it.  “So, are you staying in town for dinner, or heading back?”

“Haven’t decided.” Theo shrugged.  “The real question is, how are you getting home?”

“A carriage?  I mean, that’s normal, isn’t it?”

“Napoleon or Isaac meeting you?”

“No, why?”  Great.  Now I had no birthday present and I was starting to feel nervous.  “I can always fend off the cabbie with my umbrella if there’s a problem, okay?  Anyway, I know this is usually your line, but I have to get going.  I still have something to pick up, and—for safety reasons—I’m not supposed to stay out after sunset.”

“…I guess I’ll go with you,” Theo grumbled.  At my look of surprise, he shoved his hands further into his pockets.  “You’re almost useful now, that’s all.  Be a waste for something to happen to you when Sebas finally has you halfway trained.”  More quietly, he added, “Still don’t know what they were thinking, letting you out on your own...”

I stared at him, torn between irritation and confusion.  After a moment, his eyes flicked away from mine.  I thought there was a hint of red in his fair cheeks, but the late afternoon sun made it hard to tell.

“Look, Theo, all joking aside, I’m not a child, and I think I can manage to take a carriage home on my own.”

“Who says I’m joking? What part of ‘Paris isn’t safe’ isn’t getting through your abnormally thick skull?  Look, you’re wearing nice clothes, and you’re obviously carrying money. Sure, you’re probably okay shopping on your own during the day, but taking a carriage out into the middle of nowhere just as it’s getting dark?  I couldn’t believe it when Arthur mentioned—” He broke off abruptly.

“What does our literary Lothario have to do with anything?” I demanded.

“Just—it doesn’t matter, okay?”  Theo was scowling, now; it was a familiar, if not especially charming expression.  “The point is, travelling home alone is asking for trouble, and you’re already trouble-prone.”

“Trouble-prone?”  

“Well, you managed to get stuck in le Comte’s door—that’s a first.  And just—ugh.  If you have something left to buy, we should get moving.  Besides, you’re still blocking traffic.”

Before I could find the words to properly express my aggravation, there was a polite cough at my elbow.  A neatly-dressed, middle-aged man had opened the door behind me, and was looking inquiringly between Theo and I.

“Madame, Monsieur… I do not wish to intrude upon a lovers’ quarrel, but perhaps you would be so kind as to find a more appropriate location?”  He bowed politely.  “You see, Monsieur is rather, ah, formidable, and it is not good for business.  I’m sure that you understand.”

Theo shot me an exasperated look, put a hand under my elbow, and dragged me away.  Since I couldn’t do anything about it without causing a scene, I went with him, calling an apology over my shoulder to the shopkeeper.

After we’d gone a short distance, I tried to yank my arm free.  I wasn’t successful, but at least it got my cranky companion to slow down. Once we’d reached a quieter spot, Theo finally let go.  We were both a little red, and this time it definitely wasn’t just the light.

“You—”

“What the—”

Theo shoved his hands back into his pockets.  I would have crossed my arms in response, but I had a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Theo—”

“Hondje��”

I decided to let him go first.  It had occurred to me—as annoying as it was—that he might have a point about the wisdom of taking a hired carriage back to the mansion on my own.  There was no way to call ahead, and the stretch of road between the outskirts of the city and le Comte’s residence was uninhabited and surrounded by forest.  While I was confident that the residents of the mansion would hunt down anyone who harmed me, it made no sense to put myself in harm’s way unnecessarily.  

“Why didn’t Napoleon make arrangements for you to get home?” Theo asked at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  “He usually fusses over things like that.”

“I don’t know.”  I thought about the trip into town, and added, “I got the impression that he thought it was already taken care of.  He reminded me to stick to the one shopping district, but that was it.”

Theo suddenly went still, as though something had occurred to him.  Then he scowled again, but it didn’t seem to be at me, for a change.

“Who gave you the money to take a carriage back to the mansion?”

“Le Comte—well, technically I suppose it was Arthur…”  I paused, thinking it over.  “Arthur came up to me shortly before I left to tell me that le Comte had asked him to pass along the money for the trip back.  I was a bit surprised, but it didn’t occur to me to be worried about it.”

Theo muttered something in Dutch that I didn’t quite catch.  It sounded rude, but when I raised my eyebrows at him he just hunched a shoulder and growled, “Arthur, not you.”

“You think Arthur set me up?”  That made no sense.  “But why? I mean, he’s the one who told me—”

I bit off the rest of the sentence, since I’d been about to tell Theo that I’d been looking for a birthday present for him.  Arthur was the one who had recommended the particular shopping district and given me directions.  I’d reluctantly consulted him about possible gifts for Theo, since they appeared to be friends.  I would have preferred to ask our resident angel—Theo’s brother Vincent—but he’d been working non-stop on a painting for the past several days.

“Let me guess.”  Theo had stopped scowling, although he didn’t look happy, either.  “Somebody—probably Arthur, since Vincent’s been painting—told you about my birthday, right?  And you got it in your head that you should get me something, because you would.  Then Arthur suggested where to shop—he knows I like a lot of the artisans in this district.  Sound about right?”

“…Maybe.  But you still haven’t explained what you are doing here.”

“I told you—I had to be in town anyway, and somebody had to look out for the ignorant puppy.”

“I really wish you’d stop it with the pet references.  How did you know I’d gone into town and was coming back on my own?”

“Arthur.”  Theo grimaced. “We were chatting in the front hall, and he mentioned that he was concerned, because he overheard that the coachman wasn’t returning to town for you.  When I said you were probably coming back with Napoleon or Isaac, he made a big show of remembering that Napoleon and Isaac were staying in town late tonight. Bastard.”

I continued to stare at Theo, as the bits and pieces started to click.  It was beginning to sound as though Theo had rushed into town entirely for my sake—so that I wouldn’t have to travel home alone.  Even stranger, Arthur had been able to wind him up with a pretty suspicious story—maybe because my safety was at stake? Normally, Theo was as sceptical as they came.  …Not that I was feeling warm and fuzzy just because Theo had panicked over me or anything.

“What are you grinning about, hondje?”  The glower was back, probably because Theo hated looking like he actually cared about anyone other than Vincent.

“Nothing.”  For some reason, I couldn’t get the smile off my face.

“Just remember that if you had half a brain, and weren’t so reckless, you’d cause a lot less trouble.”

“Right—because it’s my fault that Arthur set me up just so he could mess with you.”

Theo didn’t respond; he seemed to be deep in thought.  Then he hastily pulled out a pocket watch and muttered, “Damn, I really am late, now.”

I stifled a giggle, as the image of Theo the White Rabbit came to mind once more.  “Hey, Theo?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry if you ended up missing something because you were looking out for me.”

He looked startled, then replaced the watch in his pocket and turned away, running a hand through his bright copper-brown hair.  “It wasn’t a big deal.  Otherwise you’d be on your own.”

“I still appreciate it—thank you.”

“Well… just remember that you owe me one.”  He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.  “You still had somewhere you needed to go?”

“Yeah.  Do you mind if I go into that bookstore?”  I pointed across the street.  I was pretty sure I’d been there once before with Sebastian, who was picking up an order for Leonardo.

“Whatever you want is probably in the library at the mansion, you realize.”  Despite his words, Theo immediately set out towards the store.  I hurried after him, unable to repress the thought that it was a lot more comfortable being in nineteenth century Paris with somebody—especially if he happened to be moderately intelligent and good-looking.  Having a glare that parted crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea was a bonus.

I was fortunate enough to find what I wanted, and quick enough that even Theo couldn’t find fault with me for wasting his time.  When I rejoined him outside the store, he was idly flipping through an art book, criticizing the publisher’s choice of paintings.  I could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it, though.

“So, I guess we should get home then?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.  I’d suggest eating out, but Sebas is probably waiting for you, right?”

To my surprise, he held out an imperative hand for my bag, which now contained a neatly-wrapped two-volume set along with the bits and pieces I’d picked up earlier.  For some reason, I didn’t try to refuse, even though the bag wasn’t especially heavy.

“Thanks…”

“Sure.”  He offered his elbow, and rolled his eyes when I stared at it blankly.  “Take my arm, would you?  Last thing I need is for you to trip and twist an ankle now that the light’s going. And stop looking so surprised—makes you look even more out of it than usual.”

“Uh-huh.  Have you ever considered not adding the insults? I hear it can do wonders for people’s opinion of you.”

He looked down at me, smirking.  “Why would I care what people think?”

“You care what Vincent thinks.”

“He’s my older brother, and an artistic genius.  He’s allowed to have opinions.”

“Right…”

We were walking steadily toward the nearest area that was likely to have coaches for hire that would travel beyond the city limits.  I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it was nice to have an arm to lean on, especially since my feet had been sore for a quite while thanks to the uneven cobbles and hard paving stones.  I’d done more walking than I’d anticipated, and late Victorian fashions in ladies’ footwear were elegant, but not especially comfortable.

“Oi, hondje! Don’t fall asleep until we’re actually in the coach, okay?  Or are you hoping I’ll carry you?”

I stifled a yawn, and realized that Theo had a point—about falling asleep on my feet, not about wanting to be carried.  Because I didn’t.  Why would I?

“Oh jeez…  Come on, we’re here now—up you go.”

I let him help me into the carriage, and settled myself decorously on the forward-facing seat. Theo joined me a moment later, having spoken to the driver.  He sat down beside me, and stretched his long legs out in front of him as much as space allowed.  

“Go ahead and nap if you want,” he told me, pulling out a notebook and pencil.  “Maybe I can get some work done if you’re not babbling at me.”

“I don’t babble.”  At least, that’s what I tried to say.  A yawn got in the way, and Theo snorted.  I narrowly resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him.  Too bad I really was feeling sleepy, though.

We reached the mansion very shortly after that, from my perspective.  I didn’t remember much from the trip itself, which was just as well—or so I told myself.  For one thing, when I woke up, I was leaning on Theo’s chest, and his arm was around me. Moreover, he’d obviously taken off my hat for me, which was just as well, since otherwise I’d have been skewered by the ten-centimeter-long hatpins.  I felt stupidly pleased about that, as well as comfortable tucked up against him, which was embarrassing.  Best not to remember how it had come about.

Theo’s face was scrupulously neutral when I sat up just as we were reaching the mansion.  He just… totally ignored whatever had happened. Not that anything had happened, but still.  I jammed my hat back onto my head, and tried not to yelp when I poked myself with a hatpin. Theo snickered.

“It’s on backward.  Might as well leave it off—you’ll look a little less untidy that way.  Though I guess at least it covers up your hair…”

I wanted to try for icy disdain, but instead I found myself missing his warmth beside me.  Apparently, he noticed something in my expression. His finger lightly brushed my cheek, which suddenly felt very warm indeed.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that, hondje,” he muttered, only partly to me.

“Wh-why not?”  This time, I tried for aloof.  What came out was anything but.

“Well… you look like you wouldn’t mind being kissed, and it is almost my birthday.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Arthur!”  Why was I leaning toward him, instead of grabbing my things and hurrying out of the carriage?

“That must be it.”

The touch of his lips on mine was electric.  Okay, what was going on?  I mean—really?

There was a respectful knock on the carriage door, and Theo’s fingers dropped from my cheek.  He grinned at me, but I couldn’t read the emotion behind it.

“Look on the bright side. The driver was bound to think we’d been up to something, since your hair’s such a mess.  At least this way you’ve gotten some benefit out of the embarrassment.”

“What?!  Theo!”

Of course he opened the door at that moment, and it was plain that the driver thought exactly what Theo had predicted he would think.  Ugh!  It was mortifying, but at least the man was a stranger, and hopefully I’d never see him again.

The same couldn’t be said for Arthur, Sebastian, and le Comte, who met us as we came into the house. I’d tried to tidy my hair and replace my hat while Theo paid off the driver, but the expressions on the three men’s faces when they took in my appearance suggested I hadn’t done a very good job.  I came to the conclusion that I’d have to kill Arthur, just to avoid ever seeing the smug, self-satisfied look ever again.  At least le Comte was back to his normal, pleasant self after a bare instant; Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me suggestively—naturally, I ignored him.

Unlike me, Theo was completely self-possessed.  He handed me my bag with a casual, “Try not to drop it, after all that.”  Then he nodded to le Comte and Sebastian, and dropped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.  I thought I saw Arthur wince, but if so, any pain wasn’t enough to offset his amusement. He winked at me as Theo marched him out of the front hall towards the games room.

“Are you alright, chérie?” Le Comte appeared to be genuinely concerned, so I reassured him that I was fine.

“You’re late getting back,” murmured Sebastian.  “You’ll have to tell me all about it while we work on dinner.”

“Or not,” I murmured right back at him.  I bowed to le Comte.  “Monsieur le Comte—here is the money that Arthur gave me, from you, to pay for the journey back from town.  As it turned out, I didn’t need it.”

“From me?  No… it’s not mine.  But why don’t you keep it, since it appears that Arthur’s been up to mischief again?  The least he can do is help to pay for your parcels.”

When I tried to protest, le Comte smiled gently at me.  I accepted my defeat graciously—after all, there was some merit to his argument.  After a few more pleasantries—which helped to soothe my ruffled feathers, I admit—I went upstairs to change and put away my things. Le Comte accompanied me to the second floor, and detained me briefly outside my door.

“Did you find what you were looking for?  I gather you were trying to find a gift for Theodorus.”

“Oh…”  I hesitated, then nodded.  “Yes, I did eventually choose something, thank you Comte.  It came to me when I was looking at watch guards—I thought maybe a sturdy but elegant gold chain would suit Theo, you see.”

“That makes sense. But I take it that you didn’t get the chain?”

“No…  I wanted something more unusual.”  I decided to confide in le Comte—he struck me as good at keeping secrets, and once I told somebody, I was less likely to chicken out. I reached into my bag, and pulled out the wrapped parcel.  “Open it, and tell me what you think—if you don’t mind.  I’m sure it’s completely the opposite of what Theo would ordinarily read, but that’s why I got it.”

“I’m intrigued, ma petite. But if you mean that you chose something other than a technical work, or an art book, then I congratulate you.  It’s perceptive of you to realize that he could use something to shake him out of his tendency toward ‘all work and no play’—other than drinking with Arthur, that is.”

“Well, to be honest, that was only part of it.”  I made sure that le Comte followed me into my room, since with my luck, Theo would come up at exactly the wrong moment if we stayed in the upper hallway.

“Now I’m even more curious.” Le Comte deftly untied the string that secured the parcel, and folded back the brown wrapping paper to reveal two illustrated books.  “’Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’… and ‘Through the Looking Glass’.”  He looked up at me, and I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the approval in his warm golden eyes.  “I wonder what our ever-practical Theo will make of these?  An excellent choice, chérie.  And no doubt you feel a certain kinship with Mademoiselle Alice? Although I think you chose a more dangerous world to fall into, as it were.”

I returned his smile and shrugged.  “Maybe. I’ve had a number of frightening experiences here, I’ll admit, but I’m not sure that Wonderland sounds all that pleasant.  At least nobody here has threatened to cut off my head for refusing to play croquet using live flamingos.”  When le Comte laughed softly, I added, “But you’re right that I do feel a bit like Alice at times.”

Le Comte flipped idly through the first book, admiring the illustrations.  Naturally, I’d made sure the artwork wouldn’t attract outright derision from the birthday boy.

“Tell me, chérie, what was your other reason for purchasing these books?  I thought it was because of Alice, and your situation here, but I gather that’s not it.”

“Oh—yes, you’re right.” I took the book from le Comte and flipped back several pages to one of the first illustrations, which showed a well-dressed rabbit with a large pocket watch and an air of panic about him.  Underneath, the caption read: ‘Oh dear, oh dear.  I shall be too late.’

Le Comte stared at the White Rabbit for several seconds without comment, and I began to feel anxious again.  Any resemblance to a certain hyper-busy art dealer was apparently all in my head…  Then the polished, ever-courteous, impeccably-dressed man beside me snickered audibly.

“Comte?”

He closed the book, leaving it between my hands, and bowed politely.  “I wish you all the best, ‘Alice’.  If you can get Theo to slow down and enjoy himself, even a little, you will have done him a true service.”

I nodded, but didn’t know what to say.  Who was I to tell Theo to slow down, if he was doing what he wanted to do?  We had a tenuous connection at best, although the afternoon’s events had suggested something more.  Was there more?  Did I want there to be?  What could I—or should I—read into that barely-there kiss?

When Sebastian arrived at my room twenty minutes later, sounding half-concerned and half-annoyed, I still hadn’t moved, and I still didn’t know the answers to any of my questions. The only thing I knew for sure was that I clearly had Theo on the brain.  I apologized to Sebastian, put ‘Alice’ into a drawer to wrap later, and finally got changed. It was time to concentrate on the job at hand, and not Theo’s unusually protective behaviour, or a stray kiss.

[END]

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A/Note:  Were you amused? Entertained? Please let me know what you thought!  Feedback is an author’s bread and butter when it comes to fanfiction. ♥ There may or may not be a sequel, depending on my time, other writing commitments, and reader interest.  For now, this story is published under my one-shot collection “Teatime Tales from the Mansion”