#bar or hoop? i kept going back and forth but i think he would wear both? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bldhrry · 22 days ago

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The Brute and The Scholar

Chapter Eleven | imgonnagetyouback Cassian x Fem!Reader Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Series Masterlist | General Masterlist

word count: 8.1k

warnings: alcohol, cursing, violence

author's note: school is back to haunt me </3. i'll work on this as much as i can on the weekends, lmk what you think!

You all decided to meet at the bar in an hour and you trudged home to change. You were in no mood to party and be in the same vicinity with Cassian. No matter how much you ignored him you couldn’t shake the feeling of him all over you. Like his hands were continuously running up and down your arms and he was pressed up behind you. It was suffocating in the worst way possible. You assumed ignoring the bond would make it go away but it only seemed to make it stronger like it was purposely defying you.

It knocked around, twisting itself in circles and knots trying to reach out to him and you were able to hide behind it, letting it be without pushing forth any emotion or image. You knew that it worked like that; it was an open ended tunnel to the other person as they were tied to your soul in some cruel, sadistic torturous scheme. They knew everything without trying and it took every ounce of strength to make sure he didn’t know you.

The outfit you wore to the house was not bar attire: a corduroy red skirt with a thin belt and a thin white turtleneck sweater that you tucked in with black tights and ankle boots. You kept the layered gold necklaces you were wearing and the small gold hoop earrings but opted for a long sleeved black sheer top with a pink crocheted crop top with holes that went just below the curve of your breast. Underneath your black skirt you wore a pink garter around your thigh that was hooked to the shorts you were wearing underneath the skirt with high top sneakers.

“Looks good,” Raquel smirked at you as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and put in an earring she was borrowing from you.

You smudged your lip liner before applying a dark nude gloss and grinned. “This is what I would usually wear when we used to go out.”

“I know. You just look different.” She fluffed her hair out and turned to look at you fully. “You look more confident. Like,” she puckered her lips and glanced around your body. “Like you know what’s going on.”

You hummed in response. Ironically you didn’t know what she meant. But you were trying, in general. Trying to fit in and be like everyone else and be on their level even if sometimes you felt and even knew you were faking it. But you knew a life of solitude because of fear and anxiety and cues that were lost to you was not sustainable. You didn’t deserve a lot and you probably didn’t deserve the life you currently had with people around you who seemed to care for you unconditionally. Your father always told you he didn’t expect much; he didn’t expect for you to be great and succeed but he did expect you to try.

There was a knock at the door and you and Raquel turned to look at your open bedroom door, exchanging a confused look.

“I thought we were meeting at the bar.” You muttered, mentally recalling the conversation planning tonight’s escapade.

“I’ll go down and see who it is,” Raquel announced, heading downstairs. She had on a blue satin dress with thin straps and a cropped cardigan that was the same color and material as the dress. She’d opted for sneakers too for the sake of being comfortable.

You nodded and began filling your clutch with whatever you could find that you could need that night.

“Oh, hey guys!” You heard her say and you decided then to take what you had and headed for the stairs.

Keeping your eyes on each descending step you didn’t notice the male voices that filled the foyer or the boots that came into view as you neared the landing but when you saw two sets of Illyrian wings at your door you stilled on the last step, one foot inches from the floor.

Azriel nodded to you in greeting, never faltering in his conversation with Cassian who had his hands in his pockets. You saw him shrug and with the fall of his shoulders his wings grazed your wooden floors.

You had no idea why either of them were here. This wasn’t the plan and nobody ever informed you that these two, especially him, would be inside your home. Aggravation moved through you and Cassian stiffened at the sensation, turning around slowly at its source.

“What are you guys doing here?” You said through gritted teeth. You placed your foot back on the step in an attempt to be at eye level with them.

Azriel had an amused look in his eyes at your tone and Cassian narrowed his eyes not at you but on your chest then at your stomach and finally the garter on your left thigh. He sucked in a breath and his wings inched forward.

“What,” he matched your seething tone and stared you in the eyes, “are you wearing.”

Your jaw dropped slightly in surprise at the question. “Clothes.” You crossed your arms and finished your descent and brushed past him to grab your coat by the door.

He scoffed and his eyes followed you. The skirt was short, too short, and he knew if you bent over you’d be entirely exposed. Cassian tried to bite his tongue and let you be. He had no right to police what you were wearing but his resolve slipped and he gritted his teeth. “Barely.”

Your head snapped around, your eyes blazing in fury and defiance.

There she is.

Raquel and Azriel had taken a step back to let you two figure it out. Both were entirely too entertained by the interaction.

“Excuse me? You do not get to come into my home and disrespect me.” You huffed as you put the coat on and tossed your hair. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Your mate.” Cassian sneered before he could even think about it.

The world seemed to stop moving and you felt yourself grow cold as all the air in your body escaped you and you opened and closed your mouth, trying to think of something to say but you couldn’t. How dare he throw that in your face like it was a deciding factor in any aspect of your life. An apologetic look swept across his face. He didn’t mean to say it and he shouldn't have. It was just incredibly unfortunate that his emotions, particularly his possessive nature, got the best of him.

You ran your tongue over your teeth and gave him a bitter laugh, eyes flicking up and down his body is feign dismal. “That means nothing to me.”

Raquel whistled lowly. “Damn.”

Azriel didn’t even move and his face didn’t either but his eyes were trained on Cassian whose own face was shifting with a million emotions from disappointment to defeat and finally settled on anger.

“What did you just say?”

Cassian and you hadn’t had it out yet about the mating bond. Not entirely. Conversations were cut short by tears and screams or by deciding that sitting in silence was better than addressing the situation. But now it was bubbling over. You were tired of its existence and Cassian was tired of you rejecting him especially when he knew you were faking it. Call him arrogant for assuming so but he knew, deep within him, that this was all a ruse, a facade that you were keeping up like everything else in your life. You pretended endlessly to not care about him, to not want him, to not want anything besides knowledge and success.

You pushed yourself off the wall and opened the door. “We’re going to be late.”

Raquel and Azriel followed suit silently but Cassian walked past them both and headed straight for you. He was not giving up this time. You were not going to walk away from him again.

“Y/N.” He called out to you and like the night of Starfall you waved him away.

“Should we stop them?” Raquel whispered to Azriel and he shrugged.

“Maybe we should let them talk it out.”

“I don’t think they’ll talk. I’m not sure if you guys know this but she like, knows how to fight. She might, you know, hurt him.”

A ghost of a smile spread on Azriel’s lips. “I think it’s fine.”

“Y/N, come back here. What the fuck did you say?” He caught up to you and grabbed your wrist, spinning you around.

“You heard me. Did I fucking stutter?” You shoved him and he barely moved.

Even though there was physical evidence of his rage from the hard and fast rise and fall of his chest and his relentless grip on your wrist, his eyes were incredibly sad. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve been serious.” You wiggled out of his hold. “You just don’t listen. I’ve been telling you I don’t want it and I don’t want you-”

“Don’t fucking say that. You don’t mean it.”

“If I don’t mean it then why do I say it? Do you think I would lie for the hell of it?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you would and I think you do. There’s something wrong with you, you know. It’s like you-”

“You do not get to judge me.” You growled through gritted teeth. He knew nothing. He didn’t know you or what you’d been through, the things you’d done to make you deserve the depravity that you put yourself through. But you weren’t going to indulge him; he didn’t need to know. The only thing he needed to know was to leave you alone indefinitely, forever. “Just because I’m not affected by your charm doesn’t mean something is wrong with me.”

“Not affected?” He gave you a cocky grin and took one step towards you, one of the many you’d taken back from him since he’d caught up to you. “And all the times we’ve been together? So close,” another step and you froze, the air shifting around you. “Our lips inches apart, my hands on you, in you.” He nearly purred, closing the distance and cupping your face. “And you’re not affected?”

You swallowed and opened your mouth, trying to find the right words to hurt him, push him away. He needed to learn, he needed to accept that this was the reality. This couldn’t be because if it did it would end anyway once he knew. He’d never be with someone who could hurt their own family.

“No.” You breathed out and tried not to close your eyes as his hand moved to the back of your neck, toying with the air at the nape of your neck.

He fisted your hair slightly and your body betrayed you as you gasped and your eyes fluttered closed. Cassian leaned his head down, grazing his nose up your jaw. “When you were screaming my name?”

Heat pulsed through you and you fought the whimper that threatened to leave your lips. “I never did that.”

You peeked at through your lashes and he and was looking at you the same way he had during Starfall. His eyes were dark and pupils blown and the air around you vibrated. The bond was tight in your gut, singing a song that rang in your ears so loud you could hear nothing but its melody. Its beat was strong, dictating the rhythm of your heart. It flowed and ebbed between you and Cassian, dancing along the bond that you could see so clearly in your mind; it was solid gold that sprinkled glitter that floated around it, making it look mystical and even magical. It was a bridge between your soul and his, leaving you bare and exposed to his relentlessness.

“Have me.” He requested quietly and a strangled noise erupted from your throat.

“I can’t do this. I-”

“Have me.”

“No.” You shook your head, and stepped back. You felt his hand shift from its position in your hair and you missed its warm contact but you let it fall anyway.

You turned on your heel and left and Cassian followed a few paces behind silently. By the time Azriel and Raquel caught up you two had already separated and were nearing the door of the bar.

Rita’s was packed. Lights flooded the bar, switching between red, green, blue, purple, and orange in no particular pattern or beat and the bass pounded against your ribs. Drunk bodies pressed against you and you struggled to move past them as you searched for the rest of your group. You wished Cassian had walked in front of you so he could part through the crowd more easily but you braved the sea of sweaty bodies that were passing whatever liquid on their bodies onto your clothes as you mumbled ‘excuse me’ over and over; you really hoped it was all just sweat.

You needed a drink. You badly needed one. Cassian and his stupid face and stupid aura always made you weak and you had nearly crumpled when he gripped your hair and reminded you of the mess he’d made of you on that stupid balcony. He was right; you were affected by him. Even his scent could cloud your mind and you were suddenly hypnotized by his all encompassing presence. Sometimes the knowledge that he was yours, cosmically so, made you swoon like some girl and not the adult that you were trying to be.

Have me. Cassian’s plea rang through your mind and every time you heard it, his voice raspy and deep and his eyes boring into yours, claiming you even if he didn’t know it, heat pooled in your thighs. It was so uncomfortable and it made your skin crawl.

You shrugged off your coat at the booth and gave everyone an appeasing smile as you slid in besides Amren. The rest of the group soon followed with Cassian stalking towards the table like it did something to him and Azriel and Raquel deep in conversation that consisted of her yelling into his ear over the loud music.

“What are you drinking?” Feyre shouted from across the table. She was nestled into Rhysand who had his arm slung over her shoulders and his hand was playing with the ends of her hair.

“I’ll just have a margarita. Classic is fine.” You shouted back and she nodded eagerly, telling Rhysand who got up to order the drink from the bar. On his way he got Cassian, Raquel, and Azriel’s drink before they too squeezed into the booth. Raquel sat beside you and Cassian and Azriel sat across from you. Cassian leaned back in his seat, adjusting his pants and poked his tongue into his cheek, studying you and you avoided his stare. You distracted yourself by asking Mor what you’d miss and she filled you in on what everyone had talked about.

Amren was visiting Varian soon, Elain and Lucien had decided to permanently move into the townhouse, Nesta complained about Azriel’s boxers ending up in her laundry which ruined most of her white clothes, and Mor had no updates besides the new lovers she’d taken since the last time she had talked about it. You barked a laugh at that and she smirked.

“You ever been with anybody?” You gave Mor a quizzical look and she continued. “You know, like dated or fucked?”

You blushed and laughed nervously. “Not really.” You averted your eyes to avoid the judgement you were sure you’d see in her eyes. A twenty something year old who’d just recently began to dabble in the world of males. It was pathetic and embarrassing and it was your fault. You rejected every advance and never felt anything for anyone. It was utterly lonely but how could you act on something you didn’t feel?

“Oh!” Mor was surprised. “Nobody ever caught your eye?” She sipped her drink and so did you, your cheeks hot.

“No.” You sheepishly admitted.

“Ah,” you noticed she glanced at Cassian quickly. “It’s overrated anyway!” She shouted as the music swelled around you.

You laughed again. “Yeah, I figured.”

The rest of the night was like that: shouting at each other over the music until your throat was sore and accepting drink after drink from whoever handed you a salt rimmed cup until you forgot Cassian’s touch on you and his hot words in your ear.

“Fuck,” Raquel put her drink down and waved her hand at you. “This is the song!”

You gave her a confused look and then listened, the realization that this was in fact your favorite song and you screamed. “No way!”

She grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the booth and without thinking you grabbed Mor to join you and the rest of the females followed. The males stayed behind to watch and ensure the room knew that the group of females dancing came heavily protected. Cassian watched you closely and you could feel his stare on your back as you jumped to the music and held on to Raquel as you both swung your hips in unison.

You leaned your head back onto her shoulder and let her hold you. The music thrummed around you and it had been so long since you’d listened to any form of music or created your own. You hadn’t even looked at the piano your father had gifted you when you were fifteen.

“He’s watching you know.” She whispered in your ear and you didn’t need to look to see who he was. “Did you guys talk it out?”

You laughed. “Fuck no. I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him.”

You could feel her disappointment envelop you. “He really cares, you know. It’s genuine. I thought at first that maybe-”

“Stop.” You swung around and wrapped your arms around her neck, tossing your head side to side to the song. “I don’t care! I’m having fun. Don’t ruin it.” Raquel laughed and jumped with you and agreed and suddenly the conversation was lost in the sound waves.

Cassian didn’t know you could move like that. You had rhythm and your hips moved side to side and then in a circle to the music and he was growing dizzy from watching you for the past fifteen minutes. You were back in your previous position with Raquel behind you and your head on her shoulder, saying something to her and she was laughing. Cassian would do anything to feel you move on him like that.

“Did you talk with her?” Azriel’s quiet voice crept up behind him and Cassian jumped, regrettably looking away from you to his brother.

Cassian pursed his lips and shook his head. “If you can even call it talking.” He was drunk, enough that he swayed when he shifted in the booth and his vision was blurred at the edges.

Azriel sucked at his teeth quietly. “You have to stop pushing her.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.” Cassian let out a breath and sucked at his bottom teeth. “I haven’t left her in 8 months. How am I supposed to now?” Cassian felt defeated and he finished his drink to wash the feeling away. It crept up on him like some foul creature, reminding him he was losing you no matter what he did. And the more he tried the more you pulled back. He saw you growing more desperate to fully detach and you were getting closer because now instead of confliction swimming in your eyes it was anger shooting him daggers that pierced away the hope he had that this would work out and you would love him.

Azriel had no solace to give him. No promise that it would be alright and you’d take him. Because he didn’t know. Azriel had always been able to read people and figure out their motives and desires, wants and needs, but you, he had not yet been able to decipher that. Your mask was better than his but it was not to hide but it was to perform, to survive. It allowed you to be in the group and interact. It wasn’t there to scheme and plot, something he’d worried about and brought up to Rhysand when you first started that Fall. He soon realized that you were just odd. Nothing more to it.

Cassian turned back to look at you and he growled. Your skirt had been riding up all night and now it was even higher than before. Every now and then he saw a flash of skin that only the previous week he had in his hands. “Fucking hell,” he made a move to get up and Azriel grabbed his arm.

“Speak to her about her outfit again and I promise you she will take your head.”

Cassian brushed him off and stood up, shifting the table with the force of his movement. Rhysand called out after him, shouting that it was a bad idea. As weird as you were, you had a temper and an incredibly sharp tongue.

Cassian moved through the crowd towards you, the siphons on his hands glowed with power and the crowd parted for him as he made a beeline for you. Raquel saw him coming and smirked at him before sliding away from you. You didn’t even notice. You lost count how many drinks you had after the seventh so for all you knew you could’ve been on the dance floor alone.

Cassian sneaked up behind you and snaked an arm around your waist and with his other hand he yanked your skirt down.

“Hey!” You shouted and swatted behind you. “The fuck are you doing?”

Cassian tightened his hold on your waist and was surprised to see that you didn’t stop dancing. “Your entire ass is out.” He whispered in your ear through gritted teeth.

You laughed and leaned your head back and looked up at him. “So?”

He scoffed. “So? You want everyone to see that shit?”

Your eyes were glossy as you looked at him and you grinned. “Jealous?”

Yes, he growled through the bond and your eyes widened slightly as a possessive sensation made its way into you, warming you more than you already were.

Your grin widened. “Don’t care.” You closed your eyes and interlaced your fingers with his and moved against him as the song slowed down.

You were ridiculously intoxicating tonight. Sexy and beautiful with your shirt riding up and your breast more round than usual. Your makeup made your eyes sultry and whatever you’d done to your lips made them look fuller. He was more drunk than he was before he’d come here. The sight of you was enough to make him drop to his knees. He pulled your skirt back down and you grinded against him and he hissed.

“What’s your deal tonight?” You shouted up to him and he met your eyes. Your grin hadn’t left your face this entire time and it was lazily spread across your lips.

“My deal is,” he leaned down and you wrapped your arm around his neck, feeling his free hand trail up your side. “I don’t want anything to see what is mine.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You touched me once and suddenly I’m yours? If that’s the rule then who knows, maybe I belong to a few here.”

Your eyes were sparkling now, playful and defiant, teasing him and Cassian was not in the mood to play. “That’s not fucking funny, Y/N.”

“Who said I’m joking?”

Cassian had always assumed you had never done a single thing in your entire life. You didn’t seem like the one to color outside of the lines so it made a lot of sense that you’d never had a boyfriend much less done anything remotely sexual. Maybe a kiss here and there which every time he thought about it he’d take it out on the wooden dummy in the training ring. But he eventually made peace with the fact you had a life before him like he had one before you.

“You’re not funny.”

You hummed and tangled your fingers in his hair. “Never said I was.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.” Cassian was growing angrier by the second, the mere thought of someone touching you even in passing made his blood boil. There was no way anyone else could have brought you to the edge like he did. There could be no one else who could have made you moan like he had with just his fingers and he could only imagine the sounds you’d made if you’d let him explore you some more. Who else but him?

Your eyes focused as you craned your neck up to look at him better. You bit your lip to hide your amused smile. His side of the bond was growing so big it was starting to hurt. He was wrapping around your heart, whispering every thought he was having. How nobody else had you like he did and it was true, every single word. Of course you’d never been with anyone and you’d never dreamed of it until you met Cassian. There were some nights where your infatuation with him swelled so much in your chest that you found yourself with your hand in between your thighs in a futile attempt to relieve it. It never did though; it only got worse until that night in the balcony where your bottled up affections exploded into something more, something so dangerous to you both.

You wanted to drag him along further and see just how far you could push him but something innate told you that you didn’t have much rope left before he did something drastic and you hoped whatever it was involved him and those skillful fingers of his. If you weren’t so drunk you would’ve been ashamed of yourself but not now. Now you were having fun with the male of your dreams behind you.

You smiled and grabbed the hand that he had placed on your waist and gave it a squeeze. “There’s never been anyone else.”

Cassian left you shortly after but not before making you gasp as he left a wet kiss on your neck. It was good timing too because the rest of the girls had gravitated towards you with the movement of the crowd and by the time they did he was gone and you were reaching for Nesta to dance.

“Do you guys want something to drink? I’m out.” You pouted and the group shouted their orders to you and you nodded, mumbling to yourself so you wouldn’t forget. You approached your booth and slumped against the table. “Do you guys want another drink?” Your words were stuck together despite the amount of concentration you were trying but failing to exude.

“Should you be getting another drink?” Cassian’s own words were slurred too and you gave him a blank stare and with a blink you looked at the rest of the group, awaiting an answer. A chorus of ‘yes’ and their drink order were thrown at you and you nodded, turning around and heading for the bar.

“Hi,” you pulled yourself up on the stool and smiled at the bartender. “Can I get two classic margaritas, a gin and tonic, a vodka tonic, two whiskeys a bourbon on the rocks,” you trailed off and squinted your eyes at the ceiling trying to remember the rest of the order. You turned around and looked at the table and pondered the thought and Cassian gave you a questioning look that you ignored and turned back around. “A glass of red and white wine, water, and club soda.” You beamed at the bartender, proud of your memory abilities in your inebriated state and she laughed, jotting down the order and saying she’d be back.

You swiveled in the bar stool with your chin in your hand, reading the bottles of liquor on the back wall. You barely heard your name as you mumbled the brand names to yourself until it was almost in your ear making you jump in your seat.

“Y/N!” Somebody approached you from the right and you turned slowly to look who it was. Marc. You barely recognized him; he looked a lot different now, taller and skinner and definitely more built. You had gone to school with him your entire life and while he wasn’t a friend per say he definitely was a friendly and familiar face.

“Hey!” You gave him a smile.

“I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?” He leaned on the bar and tilted his head at you, studying your face and discreetly your body.

“Good. Busy.” You gave him another smile and looked towards the bartender. She was about halfway through the order.

“Waiting on drinks?”

“Oh yeah. With my friends.”

“Still awkward I see.” He laughed, the comment meant lightheartedly but your cheeks still burned.

“Sorry.” You let out your own nervous laugh and twirled your hair around your finger. “I just haven’t seen you in a while and-”

“You’re not good with small talk. I get it.”

You hummed and ducked your head, counting the drinks on the tray. Only three more left and you’d be back at the table.

“You still in school?” Marc asked after a few moments and you cleared your throat and shook your head.

“No. I graduated last August. I work for the Court now.”

“Oh wow.” Marc’s eyes grew wide. “Congrats. I remember politics being your thing.”

“Yup,” you let the ‘p’ pop. “It’s really cool. I’ve been traveling a lot lately.”

“Nice.” You barely noticed that he slid closer to you until the fabric of his jacket grazed your arm. You straightened in your seat, shifting away from him but it only brought him closer. “Hey, so I know this is really straight forward and we haven’t seen each other in a while but I was wondering if-”

Whatever he was saying was cut short when tattooed arms encircled your waist and a firm chest pressed against your back. You leaned your head to the side as Cassian nuzzled into your neck.

“Almost done?” He whispered and he looked up at Marc just in time to see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Yeah,” you breathed out in relief. “She’s making the margs now, I think.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and started to rub circles on your stomach.

Thank you, you looked up at him through your lashes and tried and failed to hide your smile of appreciation.

What are mates for? He squeezed your side and kissed your cheek and you ducked your head, letting out a giggle. Drunk you could’ve been coddled like this the whole night.

“And you are?” Cassian’s voice dropped an octave as he straightened and placed his hands on your shoulders in a not so discreet show of claim.

“Oh, Cass, this is-”

“Marc.” He extended his hand and Cassian regarded the gesture coldly and then gripped his hand and shook it.

“Cassian.”

“Figured by the siphons. Pleasure to meet you, General.”

Cassian’s lips turned upward in a cold smile. Marc had a grandiose attitude and his advances were not appreciated. Even if you weren’t mates, Cassian would have stepped in regardless. It was clear you were not comfortable with the conversation or his presence but he persisted nevertheless. Cassian could’ve drawn a parallel to his own situation with you but he didn’t because it wasn’t the same because you liked him, you were just being difficult.

He likes you, Cassian sent down to you and you shrugged.

We’re friends from school.

He was about to ask you out.

You’re paranoid.

And you’re mine.

You huffed and crossed your arms. Stop being annoying.

Cassian hummed and watched Marc who had turned to watch his drink being made.

“So, Marc,” Cassian started, flashing him a toothy grin. “How do you know Y/N?”

“We went to school together.” Cassian's grin grew wider when the male didn’t even bother to turn around and look at him. Marc tapped the bar impatiently and Cassian rocked you side to side in victory.

Stop antagonizing him. You snapped. You could feel it now, the tension between the three of you especially between Marc and Cassian. It was very true that Marc had expressed interest in you over the years and you’d always respond the same by appreciating his friendship and wanting to keep it that way.

It’s what he deserves.

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He made you uncomfortable.

Says who?

I know you, Cassian purred and you rolled your head to the side to ride out the shiver that crawled down your spine. Appeasing smile, stiff back, squared shoulders, and a bouncing foot equals you’re in a situation you don’t want to be in. Not to mention every time he got close you leaned away.

If you know me so well then why don’t you know you make me uncomfortable?

Because, sweetheart, Cassian stroked the bond and you felt it shoot straight to your core. I make you uncomfortable in the way that the only way you can get relief is by squeezing your thighs together. You whirled in your seat and stared at him in disbelief. “And I like to think that is a very different feeling. Don’t you think?” His breath fanned your face and he glanced down where sure enough you had your ankles crossed and your thighs pressed tightly together.

Your skin was on fire and your breathing had become heavier. He was right, though. He made you uncomfortable because of the feelings he gave you that you’d never felt before. He made you feel alive and in moments like this when his scent washed over you and his body was inches from touching yours and when you were drunk out of your mind he made you feel incredibly horny.

Cassian leaned over you and you followed the movement with your head, thinking he would kiss you, hoping he would but instead he slid the tray from the bartender, thanking her.

“Drinks are ready.”

Cassian invited Marc to the table who begrudgingly accepted the invitation and regretted it when he saw Cassian’s hand slide down your back and rest at the top curve of your backside.

Everyone was back at the table and you slid in beside Elain.

“I saw you with that male,” she nodded to Marc. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. He’s a friend from school.”

“He’s weird.” She looked at him cautiously and looked back at you and squeezed your hand under the table. “I’m glad you’re back.”

You patted her hand and crossed your legs as you grabbed your drink but then immediately undid them remembering Cassian’s remark. He smirked at you from across the table, tipping his glass to you and you scowled. He was such an asshole. He read you too well. He knew you too well.

“It’s so good to see you!” Raquel squealed as she embraced Marc.

He laughed and patted her head. “It’s good to see you too. I can’t believe you finally finished school. It’s ben fucking years.”

“I know,” she groaned and sat back in the booth and patted the spot beside her. “I didn’t think I was going to make it, but hey. Here we are.” She raised her glass and so did everyone else. “And congratulations to my best friend for graduating top of her class and getting her dream job.” Everyone cheered and you blushed, ducking your head.

Conversation erupted after that and you observed it all, nursing your drink. Your eyes were heavy and your body even more so and the fun of the night was wearing out. Everyone else felt it too. You’d all been here for three hours at this point and it was past midnight. Your eyes bounced around the table tuning in and out of the conversations and jokes, some funny but most not as everyone was too wasted to think of something actually humorous and instead laughed at everything.

“I think,” Rhysand stretched and pulled Feyre in close. “It’s time to go home.” Murmurs of agreement passed through the group and even Marc agreed.

“I’ll head out with you guys.” Marc announced to the group but he kept his eyes on you.

You avoided his gaze and finished your drink, the sound of the empty straw distracting you.

You bounded out of the booth and accepted Lucien’s outstretched hand as he heaved you up. Stumbling, you fell into Raquel’s grasp and you both held hands as you made your way to the door with half the group in front of and half the group behind you.

“Have fun?” She whispered in your ear and you nodded. “I’m drunk as shit.” She slurred and you laughed, agreeing with her that she definitely was but so were you.

“Marc try anything with you?” She asked once you had stepped outside. The chilly night breeze was an appreciated welcome to your sweat slicked bodies.

You shook your head. “We just talked. It’s not like that.”

She snorted and dug her foot in the dirt. “For you. But for him,” she clicked her tongue. “He’s always had a thing for you.”

Everybody else soon piled out of the Rita’s with Nesta groaning at the temperature. “Thank the fucking gods.” Feyre laughed and swung her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I didn’t think I was going to make it in there,” Nesta grumbled, fanning her neck.

“You’re talking,” Amren said, also fanning herself.

“Well,” Marc spoke up, clearing his throat. “It was nice seeing you guys.”

You turned to face him and smiled. “Yeah! It was cool. Glad to see you’re doing okay.”

Raquel gave her own regards and soon found interest in whatever Mor was looking at behind Rita’s, leaving you and Marc alone.

“Well, I better get going.” You jerked your thumb behind you where everyone else had congregated. They would’ve started walking but they were all, including you, basking in the breeze that kept wiping around you.

“We should get lunch sometime. Maybe even dinner.” Marc said and you gave him a blank look.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like a date I mean.” He chuckled. “I guess you didn’t pick up on that.”

“Oh.” You nodded and shifted your weight from one foot to another. “I appreciate that, but I’m seeing somebody.” It was a smooth lie because it wasn’t entirely a lie. You weren’t seeing Cassian exactly, but at the same time you couldn’t see yourself with anybody else.

“Oh?” Now it was his turn to be surprised. He’d never think in a million years you’d be anywhere near another male or female in that manner.

“Yeah,” you let out a nervous laugh and bit your lip, turning your head. Cassian normally watched you like a hawk but now he had his back to you engrossed in a conversation with Rhysand and Lucien.

“If it’s not serious then I don’t see why you can’t. Seeing somebody usually isn’t that serious, you know?” He had seen Cassian with you at the bar but it was well known Cassian got around and it didn’t bother Marc much if you had been one of his latest conquests.

You twisted your hands together and gave him an understanding look. It wasn’t serious but at the same time it was because you were mated. Whether it was a relationship or not there was still something there and you found yourself oddly loyal to it.

“I’m mated,” you blurted out and you covered your mouth in surprise.

He gave you a look of disbelief and let out a laugh. “If you don’t want to then you could’ve just said that. Don’t need to lie, Y/N.”

“I’m not lying. I’m serious. I have a mate.” You placed your hands in front of you, twisting them. The words felt foreign on your tongue and part of you felt bad for using this as an excuse to get you out of this situation when you’ve been denying it to your own mate.

“Really?” He crossed his arms and you shrunk in his stare. “You have a mate?”

“Yes.” You huffed, growing impatient. If there was one thing in the world you disliked the most it was not being taken seriously.

“Who?”

You blanked at his question, a demand really. You had assumed that your statement would’ve been enough but it seemed like Marc wanted proof. You stared at him for a moment and he scoffed.

“Exactly. You don’t have to lie to-”

“I’m not lying. I just don’t think I owe you an explanation.” You turned to leave and suddenly you were turned around, Marc in your face and his hand gripping your wrist. “Hey, what are you-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” You could smell the alcohol being emitted from him and you craned your head back, eyes pleading to be released.

“I’m not. I-”

“You’ve been rejecting me for years, Y/N. For no reason really,” he laughed bitterly and you shrank even further from his touch. “So don’t give me some bullshit excuse about some mate. We both know that’s not true. You have no real reason to not go out with me at least once. I don’t think it’ll kill you. Plus you know me.” He tilted his head, his eyes trying to be sympathetic but failing. There was nothing there. You tried to wiggle free but his grip tightened and you gasped. “Just one. I’ll make it worth your while.” He gave you a dry smirk and leaned closer and your body seized with panic.

It was too much. His hand on yours, his breath heavy with alcohol, and his stare was relentless. None of it was good and it was making you feel sick. Your vision darkened at the corners as panic seized your body, making the blood in your veins still and you found yourself panting.

“Let go of-”

“Do we have a fucking problem?” Cassian’s voice boomed across the small clearing and you finally slipped from Marc’s hold and stumbled backwards until you hit something hard and you felt Cassian’s hand slide across your chest, holding you close.

Marc didn’t say anything. His gaze was still on you, the question still in his eyes and you cringed away and Cassian’s hand only became firmer.

“I said,” Cassian growled, “do we have a fucking problem?” Your arm snaked behind you and you gripped Cassian’s pant leg, trying to ground yourself.

“Y/N and I were just having a conversation. I don’t think this concerns you much.” Marco replied coldly.

“What concerns my mate, concerns me.”

Rita’s had been so densely packed that nobody could smell the bond, but here in the open air and the breeze flowing freely, the mating bond traveled from person to person announcing its presence, arriving at Marc last.

His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. He clicked his tongue and chuckled. “Is that what he made you believe?” He directed the question to you. “I never thought you’d be stupid enough to fall for something like that.” His flitted from you to Cassian, his eyebrow cocking upwards ever so slightly.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Despite the fury heightening his every sense and his sudden tunnel vision on his newfound enemy, he pushed you aside gently and behind him until Rhysand gripped your elbow and brought you in.

“Cass, it’s not that serious. Let’s just go. I’m really tired.” You tried appealing to him but he was already moving. Your heart pounded in your chest as Cassian strutted toward Marc. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Marc was drunk and angry and angry drunk people say things that they don’t mean.

Cassian, c’mon. Please. You called out to him but it was too late because Cassian had already grabbed Marc by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall of Rita’s. You gasped, clamping your hand over your mouth and stepped forward but Rhysand pulled you back into him gently.

“Let him,” he said without looking at you. Cassian now had Marc by the throat. “That piece of shit deserves it.”

Cassian was pissed. He was angry, furious, aggravated, annoyed, every single negative word that existed described him in this moment. His agitation with you had ceased almost immediately. He knew you couldn’t help your avoidant nature so he just vowed to try again but it came back in full swing when Marc showed up at the bar. He had made a beeline straight for you and you didn’t even see it coming, spinning on your stool with your head in your hands. He’d been in your space since then and Cassian could smell the shift in your scent from relaxed and slightly aroused to panic. You’d been polite, he could tell, from the nod of your head and the shake of your shoulders when you forced a laugh and Cassian had let you be at first. He’d done enough damage tonight and the signals were getting too mixed but when you were nearly toppling out of your seat from trying to get away from him, he couldn’t take it anymore and this time Azriel didn’t try to stop him.

So Cassian decided to handle it the only way he knew how: by distracting you by being annoying and it worked. He didn’t expect you to lean into him when he approached or search for his lips when he reached over you. Had you not held your thighs together so tightly, he would’ve nestled between them and let you feel how crazy he’d gotten since he saw you standing on your stairs, hip jutted out in aggravation. And that garter, nestled high enough up your thigh where it peaked out from under your skirt in a sickening invitation; he wanted nothing more than to take it off with his teeth, watching you watch him. Yet you let him hold you, protect you from Marc’s pressing stare and attempts at what Cassian could only label as seduction. You trusted him enough to do so and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or let anyone speak to you like that.

I never thought you’d be stupid enough to fall for something like that. He had spat the last word out like Cassian was nothing, like he was trash and not worthy of you. And maybe Cassian wasn’t. You were bright and intelligent and graceful in ways he couldn’t even fathom but at least Cassian liked you when you weren’t wearing a short skirt. Cassian hadn’t even noted a single time that Marc’s gaze hadn’t flickered down to look at your body.

He held Marc against the wall, his forearm pressing against his throat. He looked at you, wide eyes and hand covering your mouth and he felt even more rage than before as he recalled the fear he’d felt when Marc had grabbed you. He could only assume you had that exact expression on your face when he was leering at you saying gods knows what.

“If you ever come near her again,” he growled in Marc’s ear, keeping his eyes on you. “If I ever see you even within one block of her I will tear you to fucking pieces.” He felt Marc shake beneath him and grasp at his arm. Cassian leaned back and stood at his full height, flaring his wings behind him, peering down at him. So weak and pathetic, you did not deserve someone like this, Cassian thought. “I will fucking kill you. In ways you can’t even possibly imagine. Are we clear?” Marc nodded, a strangled noise escaping his lips, his face was red and the vein in his forehead was pulsing. He pushed off him and Marc let out a gasp for air. “I’ll fucking kill you.” Cassian repeated, pointing at him and turned on his heel.

As he neared you Cassian reached his hand out and without even thinking about it you reached for him and let him interlock your fingers. “We’re going home.” His voice was gruff and he was trying to maintain his composure but the only thing he could think about was leveling the entire city, starting with the asshole still slumped against the wall.

“What the fuck happened?” Raquel hissed as she and Mor emerged from behind the bar with Azriel. What was so interesting was the alcohol induced vomit Mor was littering and the two had stayed with her.

“He grabbed her,” Nesta nodded toward Marc. “And Cassian lost it.”

“Oh shit,” Raquel breathed out and then sucked her teeth. “Asshole!” She shouted at Marc and the rest of the group headed home.

taglist: @thecraziestcrayon | @rcarbo1 | @azrielsshadows42 | @faridathefairy

#cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x fem reader #cassian x female!reader #cassian x female reader #acotar #acosf #acofas #acomaf #acowar #c writes!#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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dayseternal-blog · 6 years ago

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A NaruHina Sports AU

Summary: She knows that if he were to ever ask her out, she would accept in a heartbeat. After all, he's the star quarterback and basketball player. Plus, she's liked him since...forever. But when her home phone rings, and he's on the other line, she hangs up.

Chapter 1: Hard to Get

Shrieks of laughter sound over the roar and creak of carnival machinery. The sun beats down on the park, and she wipes a bead of perspiration from her forehead as they make their way across the grass, avoiding the bare patches of dust and dirt.

“Oooh! Let’s go on the Zipper next!” Sakura points to the tall, imposing machine.

Her eyes widen at the ride where passengers teeter precariously, rocking back and forth, upside down, clinging to the bars. It looks like she’ll come off it dizzy and sick. “Okay!”

Her childhood friend smiles excitedly, and the two rush to the line.

The bluenette ties her long hair up into a ponytail as they wait. When she’s not at practice, she likes to wear her hair down, but it’s just too hot today.

The Zipper whirs to life again, spinning its screaming occupants in circles.

She shares a nervous smile with Sakura before letting her attention drift over to watch the rest of the school carnival.

Just across the way, a large tent houses games, like the dime toss, darts, and Pepsi ring toss. Stuffed animals that aren’t exactly cute hang enticingly from the signs as crowds of teens try their luck. Girls affectionately hug the prizes their boyfriends won for them.

A boy with golden hair and just the most wonderfully lean build emerges from the tent, heading toward their line. With a girl, a lanky brunette, hanging on his arm.

The smile she didn’t realize she was wearing until just now falters a bit.

“Hey, Naruto!! NARUTO! HEYY! NARUTO!!” Sakura yells.

She winces at her friend’s amazing lung capacity. She glances at Sakura, a part of her wishing that she wouldn’t call him over (with that girl).

She looks back to see if he’s coming over. Even with the noise, there’s absolutely no way he didn’t hear her.

But suddenly he’s toting that girl in the opposite direction.

“What the hell?! I know he saw us!” Sakura huffs.

A part of her is relieved. A part of her that clings onto this impossible crush is disappointed. The last time she saw him was briefly at the football game three weeks ago. They didn’t talk, except for an exchange of greetings. The usual, nothing more, nothing less. But with her best friend dating his best friend since intermediate school, they see each other often enough, despite attending rival high schools, for her to carry on with this infatuation.

She hardly even knows him. Well, correction, he hardly even knows her. She’s noticed him since elementary school. She’s loved him just as long.

Along with all the other girls.

She was 9 when she first saw him. The bus was taking her basketball team to the neighboring school’s gym for a tournament. They made a pit stop to pick up another team that was stranded due to engine problems. She remembers it clearly. Peering out the window and seeing him. A shining smile, tan skin, a confident gait as he ribbed with his teammates. He was cute. Her eyes followed him as they got on their bus.

And she couldn’t stop watching him. He was amazing. The way he ran across the court with smooth strides, the way he sharply juked his opponents, the way he handled the ball.

She and her teammates were swooning.

He never once looked their way.

His obliviousness didn’t deter her. When she learned he had club football practice in the park next to her school, she watched him everyday from the basketball court as she shot hoops. Standing from a distance, she noted the car he got into, its color, brand, the side of the car he sits in. On the road, she looked for his family’s car, wondering if maybe he was in the lane beside her.

She adored him.

It could be argued that she stalked him.

Her crush was so obvious throughout elementary and intermediate school, there isn’t a person who knows her who doesn’t know about her feelings.

But she’s been doing her very best to get over him. Especially now. When he obviously has a girlfriend. After all, she doesn’t stand a chance. He’s the star quarterback and basketball player of Konoha High School. And she’s just some distant girl attending the neighboring Hi no Tera High School.

So she knows it’s a really sick prank when she answers the house phone the next afternoon.

“Hello, can I speak to Hinata?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Naruto.”

“...” Well, that’s just not possible. “Okay, really funny,” she says, deadpan. She hangs up. She’s not falling for that. All of her friends and cousins know that it’s her life dream for him to call her and ask her out.

But it gets worse. Twenty minutes later, the phone rings again.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Hinata? This is Naruto.”

So she hangs up.

Ten minutes later, the phone rings again.

“Hello?”

“Hinata, this is Naruto.”

She hangs up. But somehow this prank caller is really not getting the picture. Because he calls again. And again. And again.

“Hello?” She tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice in case it’s actually someone else.

“Hinata-”

The voice is different, but the caller knows she’s on the other end. “Okay, please stop-”

“No, wait, don’t hang up!”

“Just stop-”

“Hinata! This is Sasuke.”

She’s upset. He should know better than to do this to her. “Sasuke-kun, what are you doing? It's not funny.”

“That really was Naruto.”

She doesn’t believe him. At all. “Okay, alright.” Her tone conveys her disbelief.

“...Can you bring Sakura over to Konoha High School?”

She hesitates in doing him this favor. She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. But she’s too nice to say no. Like her, Sakura attends Hi no Tera High School and hardly ever gets to see her boyfriend. And she’s the only one with a car. She’s basically responsible for how long their relationship has lasted. She keeps herself from sighing her aggravation. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Hinata.”

When she and Sakura pull up to Konoha High School, Sasuke and Naruto are sitting on the school field’s wall. They look a little tired. Football practice apparently just ended.

Her brow furrows at seeing the golden boy here. He is actually here with Sasuke. So did he actually call her all of those times? Doubt and hope shut her up, and she can’t hardly say a word as Sakura prances up to Sasuke.

The two lovebirds start talking about everything, somehow excluding her and Naruto.

She stands awkwardly next to her longtime crush, waiting for him to say something. Maybe a “hi” or “hello.” She gathers her courage to look at him, which in itself, feels like a huge feat. He’s gorgeous--blue eyes, tousled hair, broad shoulders, defined muscles.

But he says nothing. He’s looking at her unblinkingly and then averts his gaze toward Sakura.

Not that she should have expected anything. She grabs her basketball from her car and heads to the court. Sakura and Sasuke don’t notice or care.

She starts shooting hoops.

She’s on her fifth basket when he comes onto the court. Her stomach knots in nerves, and still, he says nothing. Just shifts his weight near the fence and watches her shoot a 2-pointer.

She dribbles the ball a couple of times and shoots again. She obviously glances over at him.

He’s watching her, and his head tilts a bit, seeing that she’s giving him some attention.

Not knowing what else to do, she passes him the ball.

He dribbles it a couple of times and then shoots. The ball makes that satisfying swish sound in the net. And of course, his form is perfect. He looks her in the eye and passes the ball back to her.

They switch off, bouncing the ball between them, taking shots at the basket until Sakura and Sasuke are ready to leave.

It’s not until later that night, the house phone rings again.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Hinata?”

“Yes?”

“This is Naruto.”

It really is his voice. Slightly husky and warm. Incredibly attractive.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She realizes he’s referring to that afternoon. And today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. “Well um...why didn’t you say anything?” She’s honestly wondering.

“I...didn't say anything because you didn't say anything...”

She was supposed to talk first? Oh. "Well...I didn't say anything because you didn't say anything..."

"..."

She meets his silence with silence.

“Why did you keep hanging up on me?”

Can she tell him that she didn’t think it could possibly be him? After all, he has a girlfriend. “Well...you have a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yesterday, you were walking around with a girl.” She doesn’t know why she has to remind him.

“Oh...her?...She’s not my girlfriend.”

She doesn’t know why she has to explain this to him. “You were holding hands.”

“Ah, naah, she’s not my girlfriend.”

This is all too good to be true because how can this possibly be true. Her fingers tangle with the phone’s spiral cord in anticipation.

“...You wanna go out to the movies with me?”

“Okay.” Her response is a little too automatic. But she doesn’t have it in her to care because the hope is building up inside her, and it’s not until after the call is over that she freaks out in happiness.

“He was nice. It was really fun,” she recaps, remembering how he smiled at her when they met the night before at the theater. How he opened the door for her. How they sat next to each other in the dark room. How they talked about the movie afterwards. How he asked her out to the beach for next time.

They’re sitting around at Sakura’s house because her best friend just had to know how their first date went.

Sakura’s shaking her head, silently giggling. “Sasuke-kun, tell her what you told me.” Sakura’s expression is one of barely-contained mirth.

The raven-haired boy smirks. “You know the day he kept calling you and you kept on hanging up?”

“Um, yes?”

“We were at football practice.”

She nods, remembering how they met up with them afterwards.

Sasuke waits for a second to see if she catches on to whatever he’s trying to imply.

She looks at him blankly.

Sasuke nods and repeats, “We were at football practice.”

She still doesn’t get it.

“Every time our coach gave us a water break, he ran to the payphone to call you.”

Realization crosses her mind. The closest payphone to the Konoha football field is across the baseball field and basketball courts, then on the other side of the administration building, next to the street.

Sakura is shaking with silent laughter.

“I asked him how it went when he came running back, but he said that you hung up on him. So the next break comes, he runs to his bag, gets out his coins, runs to the payphone, comes running back, he’s shaking his head, and practice is starting again. And the next break comes, he does it again--runs to his bag, runs to the payphone, runs back, said you hung up on him. And I’m wondering what the idiot’s doing wrong. So eventually he was asking me for quarters, and that’s when I went with him.”

The pinkette finally lets out her cackles of amusement.

He ran back and forth during their water breaks to the payphone just to call her. And she hung up on him. The star quarterback and basketball player. Her longtime crush. Every single time.

#naruhina #fanfic #romance #sports au #ao3 #fluff #naruhina fanfiction

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stream-of-distracted-thought · 6 years ago

Text

Syre Meets Kikia

For the first time. Syre belongs to @the-lady-saron, Kikia and the associated characters are all mine. I wrote this as a gift for Christmas to her since she’d been begging me to. With her permission I’m gong to upload it to here. _____________________________

The day had been long, but normal for most accounts in the deep of the Darklit City. Kikia was on her way to her quarters within the King’s Palace after a day of dealing with the court and the grievances of the Diwa’ka. She rubbed the bridge of her nose as she walked, feeling a little headache coming on. She was looking forward to the night alone.

But she was surprised by a small crowd of Diwa’ka coming down the hall. It was an odd hour for it to be happening, so Kikia was caught off guard. The crowd had a Bahnishal and a couple of Neejar flanking him. He greeted as they stopped in front of her, “My lady. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but we have a problem. Rather, a hard to handle prisoner.”

Kikia asked, hiding her annoyance, “Are they so dangerous that they can’t be kept in one of the local jails?”

“Not…dangerous…but we’re having trouble keeping her in her cell.” The Bahnishal replied. “She was captured as a petty thief but…she might pose a more serious threat.”

“Why?” Kikia asked.

“She…keeps getting out of her cuffs and cage.” He replied.

“How? You were using the power erasing shackles, right?”

“Yes, but they have done nothing.”

Kikia frowned and nodded. “Show me.”

The Bahnishal led her through the palace to the gates where a jail wagon was waiting. To Kikia’s surprise, a woman, tall, red-headed and with bright golden eyes. A large scar ran from her chin to under her ruddy red clothing. She was extremely fit and well-muscled. Large golden hoops hung from her ears and her eyes were rimmed with red. She was eating an apple, sitting atop the jail wagon, outside the bars. When she saw them, she waved.

“Hi! You came back! Do you have any more of these things?”

Kikia, confused asked, “You get free, and you don’t run?”

The woman shrugged. Kikia asked, “What is your name?”

“Syre.”

“Syre, you understand that you have been charged with theft and must suffer a punishment?”

“Yep.” Syre replied after another bite out of her apple. “What’s the punishment?”

“Jail time. A fine perhaps? What exactly did you steal?”

“Some food. Uh…I think a map. Uh…some sort of metal thing that was shiny.”

“A cheese strainer.” The Bahnishal explained. “Mine, actually. And broke it trying to do something weird with it.”

“Weird?” Syre replied. “You grate cheese with it. I was trying to do that.”

“See? She’s strange.” The Bahnishal complained.

Kikia muttered to him, “She must be an outsider. I would have done the same thing at one time, when I didn’t know anything about magic items.”

He blinked at her blankly. Kikia asked then, “Are you Alumian?”

“Aluma-who?”

“Alumian.” Kikia repeated. “Are you part of the special unit?”

“No and no.” Syre replied. “I have no clue what you are talking about.”

“Then you are…Imperial?”

“No.”

“You are from beyond the forest? To the south? The land of sands?”

“No, no, and no.”

“Then from where?”

“Not here.”

Kikia suppressed an eyeroll. “So, will you serve time, or pay the fine?”

“That rhymed.”

“Pick one.”

“How about neither?”

Kikia growled, “You will pick one. Do not test me.”

Syre gave her a massive grin and said, “Test you? Are you going to explode or something?”

Kikia took off her crystal ring and then let red enter into her vision. The shadows rose up and wrapped around Syre’s arms, pulling her off the wagon and onto the ground. Syre seemed un-surprised. She only said,

“Cool magic. Reminds me of…some other underground people.”

“This is just the tip of it. Don’t make me mad.” Kikia answered sternly. “You will go to the dungeon until you choose your punishment.”

“Okay.” Syre replied with a happy shrug.

The shadows formed into two Shadow Ghosts and whisked her away into the palace grounds. Kikia let her eyes clear and then then addressed the Bahnishal. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Thank you, my lady.” He replied. He returned to his cart and prepared to leave. Kikia headed back into the palace, swearing under her breath. She was ready for a night of peace and quiet. She got back to her quarters, shut the door behind her and ditched her pink silk scarf. Jillian was waiting for her. She said,

“You’re running late.”

“There is a new prisoner. I had to take care of her.”

“Oh I…” Jillian started to reply. But she paused and stared past Kikia. Then,

“This is a nice part of the palace. You live here?”

Kikia whipped around to face her balcony and saw Syre sitting on the railing. She gave her a big goofy grin and waved. Kikia was stunned for a moment and then anger flared. She snapped, “How did you get out? Is this your power?”

“Power? Like strength?” Syre asked. “Or like…magic? You guys seem to use those interchangeably.” Kikia didn’t have an answer. Syre hopped down off the railing and offered, “You look super mad. You want a hug?”

Kikia answered as she slipped her crystal ring off again, “No. I want you in our dungeon.”

��Its really musty down there.” Syre complained. “Can I have a room like this one instead?”

Kikia lashed out with her power, ordering the shadows to rise and wrap around the red-haired woman. She snapped, “You are going to the dungeon and you will stay there!”

Syre shook her head and suddenly her form disappeared from existence and out of the shadow’s grasp. Kikia was stunned. Then behind her,

“Ooo. Sorry. Guess I made you mad huh?”

Kikia whirled around as Syre opened the door and stepped out. She said, “I’ll just go find a room on my own.”

The door swung shut before Kikia could get a hold of herself. She hurriedly grabbed her cane and said to Jillian, “Stay put, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yes, my lady.” Jillian said with a hint of fear in her voice. Kikia burst out of her room and glanced both ways down the hall and saw Syre just as she disappeared around one corner. Kikia yelled,

“Guards! Guards! The prisoner is free! Capture her!”

She picked up her cane, allowed the shadows to swarm over her weak legs and arm and raced down the hall after Syre, calling for back up as she did. Before long, she saw the armas of the Neejar hurrying to flank her. She issued orders to them and they spread out into other halls. Kikia checked every guest room she could only to find them empty. Just as she was about descend some stairs, she heard footsteps echoing down the hall behind her. She turned and saw Syre running through the perpendicular hall. Kikia pointed and ordered her Shadow Ghosts, “There! Capture her!”

The Shadows rose to her bidding and dead Imperial Soldiers wreathed in black flame raced down the hall in pursuit with Kikia close behind. But as soon as she rounded the corner, she saw that the ghosts were looking around, apparently having lost their quarry. She growled in exasperation. She ordered the Shadow Ghosts in their alternate world to spread out and look for the woman. In a few moments, one of the ghosts popped up with a location. Kikia turned to head to it, but then another ghost popped up and offered another. Then another did the same. Before long, Kikia was confused and still unsure of where Syre had gone.

One of the armas came down the hall and met her. It echoed, “We are unable to locate her. Every time we narrow in on the prisoner she disappears to another part of the castle.”

Kikia sat down on a bench in exasperation, trying to think of a way to capture the woman. She rubbed her aching head and then came up with a sudden idea. She said, “Call off the search. Syre is curious about the Diwa’cita from what I could tell. We will lay a trap. Let your armas appear dormant. Wait until she isn’t expecting you and then get her. My Shadow Ghosts will do the same.”

“Yes, my lady.” The arma responded. It took a position up next to the wall by her bench and assumed a pose as if it were just a suite of armor and the blue glow that emitted from the breaks in the metal dimmed significantly. Kikia leaned back and let the shadows fall from her arm and legs back to the ground below her and adjusted her glasses. And she waited. Finally, after some time, the arma next to her lit back up and said, “We have her.”

“Bring her to me.” Kikia ordered.

“As you wish.” The arma stated.

It went silent again, communicating with the other armas. Another few minutes passed and then Kikia heard the sound of metal boots on the floor. She sighed as the two armas brought forth Syre who was wearing one of their suites of armor. The woman giggled as the two let her go. Kikia asked,

“What are you doing?”

“I found this suite of armor just standing around, so I tried it on.”

Kikia stared at her for a second and then said, “Get out of it.”

“Uh..no.” Syre replied with a smile.

“Syre, get out of the armor.” Kikia ordered.

“Well, I’m in a suite of armor and you aren’t.”

“Get out of the suite.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“I’m the leader of this”-

“I’ve got a suite of armor. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Get out of the armor!” Kikia commanded.

“No. My armor.” Syre taunted.

“You are not inside armor. You are inside one of my Diwa’ka.”

“Oh…I don’t see any guts in here.”

Kikia rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t have guts. It’s an ethereal Diwa’ka.”

The Neejar said in its echoed voice, “It tickles, a little.”

Syre’s eyes got huge. She said, “I felt that. The suite vibrated.”

“That’s because you are inside one of my Diwa’ka. Please get out so it can go back to its duties.” Kikia ordered. Syre pouted for a moment in protest. Kikia shook her head and said, “Drop your arma.”

“Huh?” Syre started to ask. The armor lost its glow and clattered to the ground at Syre’s feet. She looked down at it with surprise and disappointment. Kikia put a hand on her hip after that and asked,

“What is it that you want?”

“I don’t want anything. I’m just here to explore”- Syre started to say but stopped and stared past her. Then Kikia caught the sound of a tapping cane behind her. She turned a little to see the Darklit King approaching them from down the hall. His ghostly yellowed eyes were wide as he observed the commotion.

“What’s going on? Is this the human that’s been loose in the palace?”

“Yes. It is.” Kikia replied. She growled towards Syre, “For some reason we can’t keep her in her cell, your majesty.”

“Whaaaa? This is your King?” Syre exclaimed suddenly. She skipped up to him and bowed. “I’m happy to meet you, your majesty.”

The Darklit King grinned and said, “She’s at least polite.”

Syre suddenly reached out and shook Griffgar’s hand. “I’ve never met a walking mummy before”-

There was a sudden snap and the King’s arm was in her hand, detached from his body. Syre winced and said, “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry!”

She tried to put it back as the King laughed heartily. He said, “It’s okay lassie. It’s not going back on that way though. You’re a strong one.”

Syre looked down at the arm in her hand like she didn’t know what to do. The King winked and said, “But look, I can do this!”

The hand wiggled on the detached arm and Syre laughed in response. Griffgar asked, “This is exciting. Where did you find this one?”

“Out in the markets, stuffing food in her face without paying. And stealing a cheese strainer.” Kikia replied. “The market guards couldn’t keep her restrained, so they sent her here. We’re having the same problem.”

Griffgar gave Syre a grin and said, “Well I wouldn’t want to sit in one of our smelly dungeons either, waiting for whatever fate the local crotchety sourpuss dictates.”

Kikia gave him an angry glare which he returned with a wide grin.

“That thing with the holes was a cheese what?” Syre asked.

“A cheese strainer.” Kikia answered her.

“I think you mean a cheese grater.” Syre replied.

“It’s a magical item. So, it has a different name.” Kikia explained with exasperation. Syre’s face lit up again.

“Well now I want one even more if its magic!”

The King chuckled and said, “I’ll have one bought for you.”

“Thank you, your majesty!” Syre replied with another bow. She then held out Griffgar’s arm and asked, “So how are you going to get your arm back on?”

“The palace hand will stitch it back on, no worries.”

He turned and motioned for her to follow. Syre skipped after him and called over her shoulder, “Is limpy coming?”

It took Kikia a second to realize who the woman was referring too. Her patience snapped. She yelled, “What was that?”

The Darklit King got a strained grin on his face and he quickly interjected in a loud whisper which Kikia could still hear, “Now lassie, we don’t say that around her. She gets a bit touchy when you mention the limp.”

Syre lowered her voice and replied, “Oh. Sorry. What should I call her again?”

“You can call her sourpuss if you want.”

“My title will do, Syre.” Kikia growled. “Lady Kajalar is what I want you to call me. Or Regent Vicereine, your choice.”

“You heard that?” The Darklit King asked with a knowing grin. Kikia shook her head at him and then limped her way down the hall ahead of them. She slipped her crystal ring back onto her finger and felt the familiar inability to use her power anymore. She grumbled as she did,

“Let’s get her a cheese strainer and figure out what to do with her, your majesty.”

The group settled in the palace’s dining hall. A palace hand went to the unpleasant task of sowing the King’s arm back to his body. Most of them hated doing it. The King was weird enough without them having to see what was under his clothes. Kikia sat at the far end of the table, rubbing her head. The night’s excitement was leaving her more tired that she should have been. Syre had stayed with them and was excitedly talking with the Darklit King who was more than happy to entertain her bubbly personality. They sat at the other end of the table. He was always excited when something unexpected happened in his keep.

Kikia had sent for Jillian a while ago, and her servant had come down with her dinner and tea as well as a medicine for her headache. She also took a vile of the bitter herbal mixture that helped staunch her seizures when they crept up during times of stress. It made her a little foggy headed, but it was better than the alternative.

The red-haired woman explained how she had come to the Diwa’cita. It was nothing short of a magical explanation and Kikia wasn’t totally sure she believed it. Syre jabbered excitedly, “And I took this jewel and poof! I was here! I don’t always know how these work and Inari is going to be livid when she finds out I stole it! I can’t wait to see the look on her face!”

Syre held out a glowing purple orb that was small in the palm of her hand. Kikia had gleaned that it was the source of Syre’s ability to jump around space at will. That would explain why the power suppressant shackles hadn’t worked on her. Though she had yet to explain who this Inari was. The Darklit King asked, “May I touch it?”

“Probably not a good idea, your majesty. Don’t want you to teleport to someplace you can’t be found or something like that.” She replied and tucked it back into a pocket. She glanced down at Kikia and shot her a grin. Kikia sent a small glare back at her and turned her attention to the mirrored wall. She heard Syre whisper to Griffgar,

“I think she’s sore that she couldn’t catch me.”

“Oh, probably lassie. She’s not used to someone besting her in combat or a chase. Don’t mind her. She’s usually this dour.” He whispered back, as low as he could. Kikia was some distance away but that was nothing for her sharp hearing. She ignored them, pretending she couldn’t. Griffgar was pretty good about judging how far she could hear him, but she had let him guess a bit on the distance. She didn’t want the court to know just how good her hearing was. It made it easier to deal with threats or problems within it should she overhear. It was part of her job, as there was no way the King could handle such threats himself, or he just wouldn’t.

“Really? I’m surprised she can do anything with that limp”- Syre started to whisper back. Kikia cleared her throat and asked,

“So, when are you going back to your world or…wherever you came from?”

“I don’t know. This orb is a holder of chaos and its kind of uncontrollable. Sort of…kind of…I can make it work okay. Don’t ask me how though. No clue.”

“You don’t even know how your own powers work?” Kikia asked exasperated. Syre said,

“It’s magic. Not power. At least, not the type of power you mean.”

Kikia shook her head with a shrug. Syre answered, “I don’t know. The orb kind of does its own thing and…I don’t know how I made it bring me here.”

“And who is this Inari person exactly?” Kikia asked.

“She’s my FRIEND!” Syre stated. “Annnd, also a god. So, she’s pretty awesome. Although I heard she like, ATE a bunch of other gods so she’s kind of scary too. But cool. Cool-scary.”

Kikia rubbed her head again. Gods didn’t exist in her opinion. Maybe Inari was an accumulation of several of Syre’s ancestors? The more she thought about it, the less she cared. She really just wanted to retire to her bed for peace and quiet. She heard Syre whisper to Griffgar again, “Does she seriously never smile?”

“She does, lassie.” He replied.

“How do you do it?”

“By not making her annoyed, for one thing. Hard to do, trust me.”

Finally, Samuel returned with a newly purchased cheese strainer and placed it on the table in front of Syre. He said, “It was a bit hard this late, but I managed to find one.”

Syre picked up the crystal object. It was square in shape, with holes along its flat surfaces. She shook it a bit and asked, “How does this thing work?”

“You put the cheese on it and it will make different kinds as you specify.” Griffgar explained.

Syre grinned brightly and said, “I want to try it!”

“You are welcome to use the kitchen supply of cheese if you wish.” Griffgar replied with a chuckle. Syre popped to her feet as Griffgar pointed to the kitchen door. He continued, “I’ll have a page wait for you and take you to a guest room when you are done.”

Syre scampered to the kitchen and disappeared behind the door. Griffgar turned to Kikia and said, “I’ll keep an eye on her. You go get some rest, Kanala.”

Kikia sighed and asked, “You sure you can handle her?”

“I’ve been due for some excitement. I’ll be fine.” He replied with a sincere smile. Kikia stood and gave him a short nod. She then answered,

“Thank you. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Kikia returned to her room, got into a night gown and fell asleep quickly.

The next morning, she was roused from her deep slumber by an unusual and unpleasant smell. She opened her eyes. She was laying on her side, so through her bad eye she could only see the world in a blur. However, something yellow was laying next to her. She lifted her head so that her good eye could see what it was.

If her scream of rage could shake the foundations of the palace, it probably did. Kikia came storming out into the hall, screeching, “SYRE! WHY IN HEAVENS NAME IS MY BED COVERED IN CHEESE!?”

Syre popped her head out of an adjacent room, looking a bit sleepy, but still her irritating, mischievous grin persisted. Syre skipped from the room, and past Kikia into her quarters. The red-haired woman went to the bed, scooped up some of the cheese and said before she put it in her mouth, “Oh, that’s where it went. You like cheese?”

Kikia came back in and stood at the door, scowling at Syre in silence. The red-haired woman swallowed and reached for more and said, “No?” And then around the mouthful, “Mmmph mmm free breakfast.”

Kikia was having a hard time shoving aside the murderous streak that was urging her to reach out and strangle the other woman. She felt her eye twitching with the effort. Then she heard the sound of foot falls on the hall floor and a moment later,

“Kanala! Is everything alright!?”

Kikia let out a breath as she recognized the voice. Devon had arrived for tomorrow’s festival. She turned to him as he almost slid to a stop at her door. He was dressed in dusty traveling clothes, a white tunic with a black vest and brown pants and boots. Across his chest was a cloth sling and in that was their baby son, Ishamel. The baby’s eyes were wide though he was silent as he nursed a pacifier in his mouth.

Jillian, Haria and Keven were right behind him, all with wide eyes. Haria had her powers up, black claws extending from her hands. Keven had a spear that was too tall for him, probably snatched from a Neejar on the way up the stairs. Jillian had her dagger drawn. Kikia answered,

“Its…its fine.” She went to him and wrapped her good arm around his neck. Devon still looked a bit worried and then he saw Syre, munching on the cheese off the bed. The red-haired woman was staring between them all with wide, curious eyes. He frowned and asked, “Who is this?”

“Her name is Syre…of…somewhere.”

“Lyria.” Syre said. “Nice to meet you all?”

Devon replied as Kikia pulled away, “Devon Kajalar. These are our sons Keven and Ishamel, and our daughter, Haria.”

“Our?” Syre asked. Devon looked confused. Kikia explained,

“This is my husband.”

Syre looked shocked. She asked, “Wait, you aren’t married to the King?”

Kikia just shook her head. “I’m not a queen…anymore.”

“So, you were married to him?”

“Thank the heavens no! I’d have found a way to kill the bastard by now if I was.”

Syre was left looking confused, but she picked up another slice of yellow cheese and held it out towards Haria. She asked, “Want some? Its good!”

Devon leaned over and whispered in Kikia’s ear, “Is this…some new thing I should know about?”

“Huh?” Kikia asked, semi-distracted as Haria hesitantly took the cheese from the red-haired woman.

“Are we going to need to start ordering more cheese for home?”

It took a few moments for Kikia’s brain to click into place what he was talking about. She gave him an exasperated expression and whispered back, “No, no, no! I did not suddenly grow interested in cheese. This bumble-head dumped it in my bed last night!”

Devon glanced at Syre with an unsure expression and replied, “Are we going to be expecting her in our bed then?”

Kikia swatted him on shoulder with a glare and said, “Syre! Get this stuff off my bed! I don’t want my blankets smelling like rotting cheese!”

“You sure you don’t want any?” Syre asked with a sad face.

“Absolutely.” Kikia growled. Syre sighed, drew forth the jewel and after it glowed, the cheese disappeared instantly. Kikia heard a shout of surprise from one of the guards outside. She could only guess that’s where the cheese had ended up; all over one of the Neejar. Kikia rubbed her face in exasperation.

Syre’s attention turned back to them and she grinned widely and pointed at Ishamel. “Is that your newest?”

Devon answered before Kikia could. “He is. He’s almost a year.”

“Can I hold him?” Syre asked.

Devon took Ishamel out of the hammock and handed him to Syre before Kikia could object. Syre smiled down at him with her big grin. Ishamel smiled back around his pacifier, and then reached up and grasped for some of Syre’s long red hair. Kikia felt a twinge of pride. But she pushed it down and said, “I’m going for a bath. I probably smell like cheese.”

Syre whispered, “Sorry.”

Kikia looked to Devon and he said, “We’ll be here.”

Once her bath was finished and she was properly dressed, Kikia came out of her wash room to see Syre swinging the spear that Keven had brought in an attractive and practiced flourish. Kikia could see the woman had some skill in fighting. Keven and Haria were watching her with interest, Keven more so than her daughter. Her adopted son had begged Devon to teach him to fight properly, though her husband was reluctant until Keven had pointed out that he would need to know so that next time, he could protect his family if danger came. She knew losing his biological family had left a deep scar in her adopted son. Kikia wondered if he had brought along Rasha, the girl he had placed his young eyes on. He was fierce about her protection. Haria, she knew, had never been willing to learn to fight. Her first kill had been so traumatic for her, Haria refused to again except in self-defense. And her daughter had inherited Kikia’s power as it was. She didn’t need the training.

Once Syre had finished the display, Keven asked, “Can you teach me?”

Syre grinned and said, “If your parents say it’s okay.”

Keven grumbled a bit in response. Devon said from a chair across the room, “If you take it outside. That spear is making me nervous in here. Too many things to break.”

Her husband was feeding Ishamel with a bottle. Kikia sometimes missed feeding him herself. Since most of her time was spent here, she was away from her family. Keven was staring at her after he noticed she was there, waiting on her approval. She nodded and motioned to the door, “Get going.”

Keven grinned and hurried out. Syre shot her a smile and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him.”

“I would appreciate it.” She said. Syre went out after him. Kikia then sat down by Devon and said, “I would like to feed him.”

Devon smiled at her and he handed Ishamel to her. Once the baby was settled, Kikia quietly explained to Devon what had happened the night before. Haria listened, interested as well. After she was finished, Devon shook his head and said, “Looks like you have a new friend.”

“I would hardly call her that.”

“Acquaintance then.”

“Maybe.”

Once Ishamel was fed and sleeping. The three headed down to the courtyard where Keven was trying to do one of the complicated flourishes that Syre had done but was clearly unable to wield the heavy and over-sized spear. He dropped the weapon with a loud clank. He frowned. Syre gave him a grin and said, “Try again.”

Keven had just picked up the spear when a warning bell started ringing in the palace. Kikia was on edge in an instant and she quickly removed her crystal ring. The Neejar in the courtyard said, “There is an intruder in the palace.”

Syre’s eyes got wide and she took the spear from Keven and said, “We should get rid of it.”

Kikia turned to her surprised. She said, “This isn’t your concern.”

“I’ve got magic poofing powers. I think I’ll be able to help.” Syre stated, looking serious for the first time since she had arrived. Kikia hesitated, but then motioned to her to follow. Kikia started to order,

“Devon”-

“No worries. I’ll protect the children.” Devon replied confidently. He produced a spike of ice in his hand, ready for anything that would attack. Kikia knew he could handle it.

Syre and Kikia hurried through the palace with a couple of Neejar escorts. One said, “They are on the top level. I’m afraid we are unable to engage. This one is brandishing fire, and we don’t want to risk the keep going up in flame.”

“Understood.” Kikia said, letting the shadows wrap around her legs and weak arm. She saw Syre eyeing them from the corner of her eye. The group went up a flight of stairs and at the end of the hall leading to them, Kikia saw a cluster of guards. She transitioned to a run with Syre right behind her. The two rounded the corner, Syre brandishing the spear in a threatening manner, and Kikia with claws formed on her hands and shadows ready to do her bidding.

The intruder, surrounded by Neejar, was a short, semi-dark-skinned man. His dark hair was shaved on both sides of his head, he had a goatee and blue, vibrant eyes. Tattoos scrawled out from below his clothes across his skin. He had a pair of goggles around his neck, and some sturdy boots. He was wearing a long brown coat, with brown clothes beneath. A necklace with a red jewel hung from his neck. Kikia almost took him for a Barkal but the blue fire flickering in his palm told her otherwise.

Then Syre exclaimed next to her, “Tyberius!!”

She dropped the spear and ran up to him and pulled him into a bear hug. After she had nearly squeezed the life from him, he said, “Syre! I’ve been looking for you! I figured out you stole one of Inari’s chaos beads and”- He paused and looked around at the guards with suspicion. Kikia let the shadows fall away from her as she asked,

“Another of Lyria?”

“Yes! This is my husband! Tyberius, meet Lady Kajalar!”

“Call me Kanala.” Kikia replied. She motioned to her guards to lower their spears. “Are your people all going to pop up in the palace?”

“Doubtful.” Tyberius replied. “I’m only here to fetch my wife.”

“You stole one of Inari’s chaos beads too?” Syre asked excitedly.

“She gave one to me.” Tyberius replied. “To use to come get you.”

Syre only grinned in reply. He said, “We should be going.”

Syre’s grin fell, and she said, “Can’t we stay a bit longer? I have to show you all the cool stuff that’s here! Have you seen the cave ceiling yet? And my cheese strainer! I have to show you that! It changes one type of cheese to another! Isn’t that cool!?”

Tyberius looked like he wanted to go along with Syre’s requests. Kikia was starting to lose the need to get Syre out of her hair…almost. She groaned internally and offered, “You should at least stay until tomorrow. We are having a festival and a parade out in front of the palace. I’m sure your wife would love to see it.”

Syre’s big grin came back and she glanced at Tyberius. He sighed a little and then said, “Okay, okay. But you are taking the brunt of Inari’s wrath when we get back. She’s unhappy that one of her beads fell into a foreign world.”

“I’ve kept it safe!” Syre protested. Kikia added,

“By annoying the breath out of me. Come. We’ll meet up with the King in the dining hall. I’m sure he wants to know what is happening in his palace now.”

The three went back downstairs, Kikia fetched her family and the group sat down in the mirrored dining room, waiting for the King to get there. Syre asked while they waited, “Is there really a festival going on tomorrow?”

“That’s why they are here.” Kikia replied and motioned to her family. “You popped up just in time. I’m sure the King will be happy to have you.”

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Kikia liked Tyberius. He was serious and down to earth while his wife was a bubbly mess. They complimented each other well. The next day, the group went to the palace gates for the parade and after, Syre and Tyberius left, disappearing for good, back to whatever world they had come from. Kikia secretly hoped they would pop back someday, and it was likely to happen.

#OC short story #short story #Shades of the Black Rose #kikia #devon #syre #starteller794 #stream of distracted thought #the-lady-saron

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rauliskafan · 6 years ago

Text

Magic in Manhattan

Would you like a little Rafael Barba x Reader by way of “Tristan and Isolde?” Read on for more (for lt-sammi-matthews Twist on the Myth Challenge). Enjoy!!!

“You’re going to put the screws to him, right?”

Mark spoke out of the corner of his mouth as the pair of you sat at the defense table, listening to the man whose sole mission in life was to take your client down for fostering a campus rife with harassment complaints. While the idea of the latter turned your stomach, Mark swore up and down that it was a setup, that he was collateral damage in a world gone mad. You wanted to believe him. He had never been anything but generous as your mentor. The fact that he occasionally flirted was beside the point.

The fact that you wanted to beat ADA Rafael Barba at his own game had everything to do with the matter and more.

As soon as the well-dressed man with the emerald eyes rested his closing argument, he sent a smirk your way. You resented it. Did he think that you were being played? Or that you weren’t up to the challenge?

You would do your best to prove him wrong on both counts..

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, good morning. The prosecution took up the better part of an hour essentially repeating the same point. Surprised he didn’t throw an interpretative dance into the mix.”

That got some giggles out the jury, and you took the moment of laughter to deliver your own smirk to the ADA. He sat stone-faced but just curled his long fingers around a gold pen. Good. You wanted to get under his skin from the start.

“I will not be nearly as long-winded,” you continued. “My client, Dr. Mark Brower has served Hudson University’s Criminal Justice Department honorably for the last seven years. He certainly respects the gravity of these accusations. He would be the first to tell you that he applauds any woman with the strength to come forward after an assault.”

You caught a glimpse of Barba leaning forward in his chair. He had to wonder where you were going with this.

“But make no mistake,” you continued. “There are such things as baseless claims in our current climate, and three students in a span of seven years does not a predator make. I would argue it makes up a select student body who simply could not hack the coursework, and now here we are.”

Hearing the murmurs from the gallery mingled with two jurors who nodded at your logic set your mind more and more at ease. And Barba looked ready to sport a glove of ink, his pen about to explode in his palm.

“I’m sure the ADA is prepared to jump through a lot of hoops to convince you otherwise. But we have our own evidence. And when we reach the conclusion of this case, I have faith that you fine people will make the right decision. Thank you.”

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you sauntered back to the defense table, your eyes locking with Mr. Barba’s. Perhaps he wanted to wield his pen as a different kind of a weapon. No matter. Those possible sentiments mirrored yours exactly, and by the end of this trial, you would wipe that smug look off his face for good and all.

“Fancy meeting the likes of you here.”

Looking up from your legal briefs, you cringed at the sight of Barba polluting your favorite watering hole. Wasn’t he the Forlini’s type, his lips forever pressed to that holier-than-thou lieutenant’s ass?

“I trust you’re not following me, Mr. Barba,” you challenged as he hovered close to your place at the bar.

“After trying to track your dizzying line of questioning for the better part of the afternoon?” he shot back. “Thank you, no. I’m in the market for a reprieve.”

“And yet, here you are.”

As the bar was jam-packed on a Friday night, the man wearing pinstripes had one of two choices: retreat or assume the seat at your side. It did not surprise you when he opted for the latter, a feeble attempt to mark his territory and make your night a misery.

Two could play at that game.

“What are you working on?” he asked as he sipped a glass of scotch on the rocks.

“In what world do you think I would share my strategy with you?” you inquired in a blistering tone, taking care to shield your notes with your forearm.

“Certainly not this one,” he reasoned. “I thought maybe you were prepping for your next client.”

“My next client?” you asked, suddenly and slightly confused.

“That’s right,” he said, letting you hang in suspense as he took another drink. “Who’s next? Going to try to get Madoff a retrial? Or perhaps you prefer educators who take advantage. Absolutely no shortage of those these days.”

Seething where you sat, working overtime to let the insult wash over you and drip to the floor littered with peanut shells and pretzel dust, you polished off your bourbon and signaled to Bree, the distracted girl behind the bar who kept checking her phone, for another.

“And you are so sure that my client is guilty,” you spat. “Because you’ve never head of someone lying to get a leg up.”

“Of course I have,” he admitted as he downed the rest of his drink. “It happens. I’d ask if you made the same move with Brower---”

“Careful, counselor,” you warned as the door to the bar opened, bringing in a double date and an early autumn breeze.

“I was only going to say that you’ve made your marks based on merit. I would never deny that.”

He finished his drink and also ordered a refill. You stared at him carefully, considering how you should take the compliment and whether or not there was something sinister lurking beneath its surface.

“You would just accuse me of selling out my entire gender to get my name on the front page,” you finally said, not willing to give so much as an inch. Now his silence spoke volumes, and you turned away with a sneer.

“Hey!” you called out to Bree who was deep in conversation with one quarter of the double date. “Some service here, please?”

Bree started forward when her boss, a burly man with tattoos, intervened.

“Come on, Bree,” he muttered. “Got to move faster on a Friday.”

With that, he quickly picked up two shots of what looked like tequila and set one glass before you, one next to Barba.

“On the house,” the tattooed man said. “We’ll get you your right refills in just a moment.”

Needing a drink of something, anything, now, you lifted the shot glass to your lips and drank the contents in one swallow.

Strange. It tasted far sweeter than you expected. Barely any trace of alcohol. If you didn’t know any better, you would swear it was honey seasoned with… seasoned with what? Herbs? Was it laced with something? You just made out Bree’s eyes go wide and started to speak when Barba chuckled.

“That supposed to intimidate me or something?” he asked. “You mixing your drinks? Better study your adversaries a little more closely.”

Before you could offer anything in the way of a warning, he followed your lead and consumed the shot. Almost instantaneously, you saw his puzzled eyes, his lips lengthening into a straight line as his brow furrowed. He had to taste it, too. Had to wonder what was wrong with the beverage. Feeling the need to ask him as much, you met his eyes.

The world stopped moving. All the sounds in the room retired like children being called away from a summer night so they could get some much-needed sleep. The light in the bar stayed dim. Except for the place where Barba sat. There you saw a glow emanating from the man. Had it always been there? Why had you never noticed it before?

“Barba…”

Your own voice sounded different. Softer. At the very least, it was a tone that you had never used with him. When he tried to speak, only a sigh hit the air, sweet and gentle. Like a pie left cooling on a windowsill and promising even more thrills once one bit into the crust to savor the juices of the fruits so artfully buried within.

“I… I don’t know…”

He said nothing else. Simply took your hand in his. That same hand that might have crushed a pen with one squeeze let its fingers lace with yours. So soft. Setting your skin on fire and yet there was no burn.

“I don’t know either,” you murmured as you stretched towards him

And his kiss claimed yours, your flavors blending as you solved the mystery of your heart’s hidden desires by way of his mouth.

“What the hell, Bree?”

“Jerry, I can explain.”

“Did you dose them with something?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be for them.”

“So you admit it?”

“It was for my friends. Well, for their dates.”

“Why? You trying to set them up or something?”

“No! It was to make them fall in love!”

Bree and the bartender continued bickering back and forth. Some sense of sound returned when they ushered you from the bar to a backroom.

But Barba’s moans still bested any other voices.

“God, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Answering his question with another kiss, you sat beside him on a battered couch. With your arms about his neck, you ran your eager hands across his back, under his blazer. You could feel his muscles straining through his vest, his shirt. He grazed his fingers over your legs and tenderly reached under your skirt. Sliding closer, sighing as he stroked your thighs, you dragged your lips towards his ear.

“Time… wasted,” you managed as you nibbled his lobe. “Looking at you in court every day… it was torture.”

Drawing you nearer, he guided you to his lap. One hand stayed on your leg as he began to unbutton your blouse, your breasts anxious for his touch when Jerry cleared his throat and Bree rushed forward.

“Guys,” she started. “Sorry. I… this was a mistake.”

“Hardly,” Barba argued before gazing into your eyes again. “I was fated to come here tonight. To fall in love.”

“Oh, Rafael!” you sighed, pushing him to his back, desperate to have him wearing much less when Bree furiously clapped her hands and stamped her foot.

“It was a love potion!” she shrieked.

“And it’s in her eyes,” Barba said as he caressed your face, and you leaned your cheek into his palm.

“You say the sweetest things,” you said, needing to kiss him again when Jerry groaned.

“Before I fire you, Bree, please tell me that there’s an antidote.”

“Not really,” she said. “I mean… I mean we could try to separate them or something.”

“Not on your life.”

Easing away from you ever so slightly, Barba rose and helped you to stand on wobbly legs. But as long as you could lean against him…

“She stays with me always,” he said. “Isn’t that right, querida?”

Your weak knees knocked together at the word, and you had no other choice but to cling to him, squealing as he lifted you into his arms. Jerry and Bree stood stunned as Barba brought you out the city street that seemed paved with even more flowers.

And you kissed him so hard that he had to sink to the curb even as his embrace stayed tight.

“What?” he asked as he nuzzled your nose.

“Querida?” you asked.

“Term of endearment. Do you not like it? I can change it if---”

“I love it,” you said. “I want to call you so many things.”

“Like what?” he asked, kissing you again as if he needed your breath to stay alive.

“Mine,” you murmured. “Always. Forever.”

He nodded, and you started to drift deeper into the pavement as a taxi pulled up.

“You crazy kids okay?” the bearded cabbie asked. “Somewhere you need to go?”

Once again, Barba helped you to your feet. You were more than ready to offer your place for this night, for the weekend and longer, when Barba stopped short and fashioned a smirk that made you blush.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“What you said. Making you mine. Forever.”

“Are you serious?”

You were still giddy and barely able to walk from the feel of Barba inside you for nearly two nights straight. But despite your ardor, there was still a job to do. And you stood together before the bench as you smiled into his eyes.

“Forgive me… forgive us your honor,” you started. “But it has to be a conflict of interest for me to go up against my husband in court.”

Barba laughed and kissed your lips, your mussed hair. The flight to Vegas took no time at all in the space of his arms. Once arrived, you found the first chapel available and spoke vows with an Elvis impersonator as your witness. When the officiant deemed that you were indeed man and wife, he tossed chips in the air. But you had no desire to make your way to the tables. Better to linger with him in a bed adorned with Lucky Sevens and savor so many sensations as the arid sun set and rose and left the room once more. You wanted his hands everywhere, kept him by your side throughout bubble baths and the few stolen moments to eat. Beyond that, you held him until he looked to his phone with a heavy sigh.

It’s almost Monday.

Let’s not go back.

Just to recuse ourselves. And then I’m taking my bride home.

Which led you to the courtroom. Just holding his hand was so much less than what you needed from his fingers, but the judge ultimately rolled her eyes. She warned of consequences for both of you. No matter. Soon enough you were back in the fresh air, on the courthouse steps, and in Barba’s arms.

“How do I love you so much?” he murmured into your hair.

“I know. Was it the drink?”

“No way. I always thought you were amazing.”

“Did you?”

“Smart as you are? How could I not.”

Weak in the knees all over again, ready to hail a cab and get back to the nearest bed, your wish was cut short by the harsh sound of a familiar voice.

“What the hell, you bitch?”

Mark stood only a few feet away, glaring with his hands in his pockets as Barba eased you behind his back.

“Don’t talk to my wife that way,” he cautioned.

“Your wife? In one weekend?”

“Mark, please,” you said. “Just find another attorney.”

“I want you.”

“I’m spoken for.”

Once again, the world came to a halt, Barba glowing as your mouth met his. His kiss tasted sweeter still, and you were more than ready to take your leave when Mark lunged forward.

“Do you think I would let you do this?” he barked.

“Hey, let her---!”

“You’re not like those other sluts. They were asking for it. You played hard to get. What else do I have to do to make you mine?”

Seeing him clearly as if for the first time, you shuddered but still summoned the strength to push him away, to nearly send him stumbling back.

“So it’s all true,” you said. “Mark, you need a lot more help than what I can give you.”

“I paid for you to stand by me.”

“Then you can have your money back,” you reasoned, any ire in your soul calming as Barba touched the small of your back. “I got a better offer in every way, shape, and form.”

Still strange how it happened. A part of you had desired him the second you saw him walk by in a three-piece suit. Now you only wanted him out of the pinstripes once more and started to kiss him…

“I’ll sue the both of you for damages!”

Mark screeched as he plowed forward. Barba pushed you out of the way and stood to ward Mark off when they both tumbled down a few steps. You screeched, your hands on your mouth as you thought of his head hitting a sharp edge, his beautiful mind stilling his beautiful heart.

“Rafael!”

Seeing no blood in is hair, you raced forward and clasped his hand.

“Baby?” you whispered.

His green eyes sparkled, the one breath he managed to exhale sweeter than ever as his finger reached for your hair.

“Querida…”

Hearing him speak soothed your heart, and you were ready to help him up when you saw the gold pen that had stayed so long in tact dislodged from his pocket…

…and sticking out of his chest.

“Uh… Mrs. Barba?”

You sat with his bloodied blazer in your hands, listening carefully to the doctor’s words. Lost a lot of blood. Critical but stable. Think he’s going to pull through.

Now the world moved. You heard his mother weep tears of joy and saw his colleagues, the lieutenant you had disparaged in particular, smile at the news. Your husband. Your most beautiful love going to come back to you in one piece. You hugged the doctor as you cried happily and asked to see him.

“Of course. Right this way.

Finding him pale under thin sheets, you set his coat aside and sat beside him.

“Hey. You’re going to be alright. You better be, Mr. Barba. You don’t get to barrel your way into my heart and leave me in the lurch.”

Not that you fully understood how it had even happened. Had Bree said something about a love potion? But that was the stuff of fairy tales. This was real, more real than any other moment or man that you had ever---

“Hello,” he said in a weak voice. You barely took in the sight of his troubled expression when you hugged him gently, your kisses threading through his hair

“Don’t you dare go scaring me like that again,” you whispered as you finally met his eyes and stroked his clammy cheek. His eyes grew more and more quizzical until he took your hand…

…and lowered it to one side.

“So… so it wasn’t all a dream then?” he began.

“What Mark did? I’m so sorry, baby. That was very real.”

“No. No I mean… us.”

“Us?” you echoed. “Well… yeah. We… we fell in love. We got married. Don’t you remember?”

You showed him the cheap band of gold that was now your most cherished piece of jewelry and watched his face appear to put the puzzle pieces together.

“I… remember,” he finally said. “We… we took a drink. And then…”

“Magic,” you insisted, your throat starting to tighten. Maybe it was a spell of some sort, but you didn’t care. It seemed so right. He said… he showed you that he felt the same way.

So what---?

“I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think it wore off.”

And your heart that had been so full shattered, the bits of glass seeming to swim through your body, bringing pain to more places than you could count.

“No,” you said. “You’re just… maybe it’s the anesthesia or something. Plus you lost a lot of blood.”

“I get that,” he admitted. “But I don’t… it doesn’t feel the same. You don’t… look the same. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But---”

“Save it.”

Finding it a struggle to stand with your broken heart, you removed the ring and started to leave the room. Suddenly feeling more like your old self, you turned on your heel to stare him down.

“Was it a trick?” you accused. “To make me throw the case? Look like a fool in front of the judge?”

“Think we’re both in that boat,” he murmured, his face seeming so sad. But now you were seeing him as was before, as he had always been.

“So maybe it was just about getting me into bed,” you hissed.

“No, I---”

“Save it, Mr. Barba,” you barked. “I’m having this sham of a marriage annulled ASAP. And do not call me again.”

Maybe it was his hurtful words or your dose of flowers having run its course, but now the spell ceased for you, too.

You sat solemnly in your office, trying to make sense of the past few days. As you were still his wife, word had reached you that Barba was to be released from the hospital. Not that you had any plans to see him. Toying with the notion of abandoning Manhattan altogether, you glanced up at the sound of a soft knock on your door.

“Hi.”

He still seemed pale, but he was up and about. While you did not wish the man dead, you stood with every intention of ushering him out when he held up one hand.

“Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

Nodding, you glanced at your watch and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Come to rub salt in my wounds?” you asked.

“Nothing like that,” he said. “I… I should’ve called you.”

“I wouldn’t have answered.”

“I figured. So I… I actually called the girl from the bar.”

Lowering your arms, you watched him reach into his pocket. He held a vial of the same liquid from that fateful night.

“No,” you quickly said.

“No?” he echoed.

Even as you were tempted to see him shining again, to feel his touch, to look into his eyes and feel only love springing forth from his green orbs…

“It won’t work,” you said. “It’ll only fade away again, and I… I can’t go through that…”

Breaking down, you avoided his intended embrace and sat behind your desk. Barba grimaced as he dropped to one knee, still dangling the vial between his long fingers.

“You’re right,” he said. “But what if I told you that there’s another way?”

“What other way?” you asked, reaching for a tissue to dab your eyes.

“Maybe it was… I don’t know,” he started. “Witchcraft or whatever. But that weekend with you was the happiest two and a half days of my life.”

“You’re just trying to be nice,” you muttered.

“When have you ever know me to do that?” he asked, his smirk back in full force as you relaxed some in your chair.

“Point taken.”

“And see… see the thing is…”

Finally setting the vial aside, he reached for you hand. It felt oddly familiar and yet somehow altogether different. But you did not relinquish his hold.

“When I talked to Bree, she said that she’s never seen it work that fast. She couldn’t quite figure it out. But she… she surmised that it meant that there already had to be some feeling in my heart for you.”

“For me?” you asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed that. The way you spoke to me at the bar.”

“I wouldn’t spar like that with just anyone,” he confessed. “Only someone I couldn’t help but admire. Respect. Because you’re smart. And strong. And…”

His voice trailed off as he popped the cap off the vial and promptly poured the contents into your waste paper basket before reaching for your face.

“So I say let’s give it another try,” he said. “Without it. I would have taken it again for you. But maybe… maybe we don’t even need it. Let’s give forever a chance on our own terms.”

His eyes were wide and hopeful as he tightened his grip. Of course you had always felt the same way about him. There were just too many complications to contend with.

“I… I think that’s what hurt the most,” you admitted as a fresh stream of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“What’s that?” he asked, wiping the wetness away.

“Losing you… when I… when I had wanted you for so long.”

You felt your lips mirror his smile, and he leaned in for a chaste kiss. Maybe he didn’t taste quite as sweet, but there was still a kind of magic in his mouth.

“So?” he asked as he rested his brow against yours. “What do you think?”

“I… well… I guess we are already married,” you admitted.

“Elvis said you were a beautiful bride,” he teased, causing you to laugh.

“But we need to take this slowly,” you said. “Like really get to know each other.”

“You mean out of bed,” he said with a chuckle.

“Something like that.”

“Well…”

Standing slowly, he offered his arm.

“Can I take you out for a cup of coffee?”

You waited for only a second before rising to accept his touch. Would you have ever come to this place without Bree’s brew? No way of knowing. And maybe it was better to see him clearly, to explore the possibilities over which potions had no power.

“I’d like that,” you said. Leaning closer to his side, you stepped back towards what you had lost, what you had never known…

“I like you,” he whispered, as he pecked your cheek.

And somehow his simple schoolboy words were the most enchanting incantation that you had ever heard.

#raúl esparza #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law & order svu #svu fanfiction #twistonthemythchallenge

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racheldpanda · 8 years ago

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Flash Fiction Challenge Jan 2017

As I said in last week’s post, I am going to start doing writing contests and challenges. Chuck Wendig put up a Flash Fiction Challenge with the theme THE APOCALYPSE. Except it has to be something not seen before. I took this to mean no: zombies, alien invasion, nuclear war, the rapture and the like. Not really much else to say about it except I hope you enjoy this short story fulled by leftover NYE wine about our future overlords.

Purrrfect Future

“I wish one of them would adopt me.”

“We all wish one of them would adopt us so just shut up already.” The scruffy man in the kennel across from Melanie barked.

“But,” she cried, “I really want out. This place is cold, it smells, and there’s no place to pee.”

“What do you think that box of sand is for?” The man scratches his beard. “You crap in there too.”

“No! That’s how you get your poop on your feet!” Melanie hits the bars of the kennel with her fists. “I! Want! Out!”

The door at the end of the hall clicks open. A large, orange fur covered cat wearing jeans and a white tank top walks into the kennel hallway. Behind him was a female black cat dressed in a floral print top. Gold hoop earrings dangle off her ears. Her child, a gray tabby in a pink dress, bounds in from behind the two adults.

“Oooooohhhhh!” The child purrs when she sees Melanie. “Look at this one. Her head fur is yellow.”

“Yes!” Melanie squeals as she jumps. “Take me home! Take me home!”

“Momma, this one acts like she’s trying to talk. I think she likes me.”

“Yes, but what about this one?” Momma walks to the kennel with the scruffy man. “Fluffs, look at this one. It seems very calm.” Momma puts her paw through the kennel bars and pats the scruffy man on his head. “That’s a good human. Much less likely to jump out the window and break a leg like your last one.”

“Nope. He’s cranky, I can tell.” Fluffs puts her arms through the kennel bars and rubs Melanie’s belly. “Good human, pretty human, meow meow meow.”

“Aaaahhhhhhh!!!!” Melanie wiggles.

“She likes me. Momma, I want this one.”

“Fine.”

The orange cat takes a set of keys off his belt, flips though until he finds the right one, and unlocks the kennel. Fluffs grabs Melanie around the waist and hugs her. “I love you already I’m going to name you Momo.”

“My name is Melanie.”

“Oh Momo, you trying to talk is so cute.”

“Come on, Fluffs. We still have to make that Cardinal Casserole.”

“Ok, Momma.” Fluffs runs out of the kennel. Melanie’s legs dangle from her arms.

“See you in a couple of months, Mrs. Isis.” The orange cat smirks.

“It’s good they breed so darn fast.”

***

Fluffs flings open the front door.

“Welcome home, Momo.” Fluffs holds Melanie high in the air above her head before setting her down on the plush carpet. “I’ll get my dolls so we can play dress up. I bet you’ll fit in the stroller. We can put it on PawTube.”

“Do your chores first.” Momma said. “Or do I need to take Momo back to the pound?

“No ma’am.” Fluffs frowns and pets Melanie’s head. “I’ll be back.” Fluffs skips into the kitchen after her mom.

“My name is Melanie.” Melanie sobs. “Why can’t she understand that?”

“Because.” Says a honeyed voice. “That’s just how it is.”

Melanie looks up. On top of the couch sits woman. She stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “I’m Miss Baby, and you are?”

“Melanie.”

“No. Not your birth name. What did the kid say she’d call you?”

“Momo.”

Miss Baby smirks. “Momo. Huh. You’re the third one this year. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a good name. That’s why the kid keeps using it. The first Momo died of old age.”

“And the second Momo?”

“She didn’t like that the kid kept putting her on PawTube and tried to run away.”

“Tried?”

“Yeah. She jumped out the window but it was too high. I heard Momma say she was too expensive to fix so...” Miss Baby shrugs.

“Oh.” Melanie’s lip starts to quiver. “I don’t want to be put down.”

“Then don’t jump out the window.” Miss Baby hops off the couch. “You’re young. Just act cute. Let the kid dress you up in her doll clothes. Eat when they feed you and use the sand box.”

“Again with the sand box.”

“You’d better use it, or they’ll take you back to the pound.”

“What’s a Pawtube?”

“I’ll show you.” Miss Baby walks towards the kitchen. “Come on.”

Melanie walks after Miss Baby, stopping every few steps to look at her surroundings. Everywhere was furniture that was too big for her to get on without jumping or climbing. She had a vague memory of there being furniture that was her size, of her own momma rocking her as a baby in the chair.

“You coming?” Miss Baby stands in the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips.

“Yeah. I’m just checking out the place.”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that. Come on.” Miss Baby grabs Melanie’s hand and drags her through the kitchen. Momma stands at the stove chopping something. “Mmmmmm. That smells good.” Miss Baby lets go of Melanie and walks up to Momma. “Hey. Hey. Heeeeeeey.” Miss Baby taps Momma’s leg.

“Stop begging, Miss Baby. You’re going to teach Momo bad habits.” Momma gently pushes Miss Baby away with her foot. “Shoo.”

“Fine. Didn’t want your stupid cooking anyway.” Miss Baby sulks as she walks back to Melanie. “Come on.”

The two women walk down a hall with four doors. “The sand box is in there.” Miss Baby points to the first door on the right. It’s partially open. Melanie peeks inside and sees a big white chair against the wall, a white pedestal, and a box with sand in it. “The cats do it in there too, but on the white chair.”

“Weird.”

“I know. Ok, the the Pawtube is in here.” Miss Baby points at another open door at the far end of the hall.

Inside the room was all pink. A soft, fluffy, pink bed. Pink miniature furniture. Dolls in pink clothes. The only thing in the room that wasn’t pink was a set of white drawers and a white desk. The chair for the desk was pink, of course.

“It’s up here.” Miss Baby grabs onto the rim of the pink desk chair and pulls herself up. She repeats the climb from the chair to the desk.

“That looks hard.”

“Stop being a scaredy person.”

Melanie proceeds to climb up the chair. She has a hard time pulling her body up but eventually makes it. She jumps from the chair to the desk with more ease. Melanie breathes heavy as she bends over. “That. Was. Hard.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Miss Baby kicks a half rounded object. A flat black surface towards the back of the desk brightens with light. “I’ve watched Fluffs do this a lot.” Miss Baby puts her hand on a multi-colored circle at the bottom of the screen. The picture changes. “This is Pawtube.”

Melanie stares at the screen. In the middle was a large picture of a male human in a bonnet looking displeased. On the picture was an arrow pointing to the right with the words ‘watch again’ under it. To the right of the bigger picture were moving pictures of other humans. ‘Humans play with yarn.’ ‘Humans knock things over.’ ‘Top Ten Funniest Human Compilations.’

“What is this? Are they trapped?” Melanie touches one of the pictures to the right. It gets bigger and starts to play. “Ack!” Melanie jumps back, almost falling off the desk.

“Ha! No. They aren’t trapped.” Miss Baby sits and watches the screen. “I’m sure there will be one of you up there soon.”

“How am I going to be in this thing?”

“Miss Baby! Momo! Why are you two on my desk? Shoo!” Fluffs storms into the room, her fur puffed out. Miss Baby jumps off the desk and runs under the bed. Melanie freezes, her eyes wide.

Fluffs smiles. Her fur smooths down as she picks Melanie up to pet her. “I’m sorry I scared you, Momo. Here. You can sit on the side of the desk while I do my homework.” Fluffs sets Melanie on the corner of the desk.

“Riri. Stop playing Pawtube.”

The video on the screen stops playing the video. Fluffs sits at her desk and takes her homework out of her backpack.

“Question one, name some of the reasons that made the modern Cat the top mammal during The Enlightenment of Feline. Hmmm. Riri, look up Enlightenment of Feline.” The screen blinks before several article suggestions pop up. Fluffs clicks on one by Science ACatamey. “There are many theories of what was before the Great Enlightenment of Feline. The most common among them speculates that humans were much larger and more intelligent than their current state. Some in the scientific community believe there was a great devolution among the humans caused by- oh this is not what I want. Riri, pull up another article on the Enlightenment of Feline. History, not science.”

Melanie hugs her knees to her chest and rocks back and forth. “Devolution?”

#flash fiction #flash fic challenge #chuck wendig #short story #cats #meow #purrrfect #devolution #wtf #kitty overlords #enlightenment #feline #apacolypse #the future #writing #am writing

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kindalikeitwhenimakeyoucry · 8 years ago

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I know you, I saw you once upon a dream.

Going through high school Josh had never really been a popular kid or a loser kid. He didn’t sit at the front of the bus or at the back, he was a middle of the bus kind of kid. Polite, mild mannered and as kind as he could be to everyone he was an average kid out the outside. At school he had a good group of friends that he hung around with but his best friend was absolutely anything but middle of the road.

Tyler was creative. Tyler was sporty. Tyler could sing and play instruments. Tyler told the best jokes. Tyler was handsome. Tyler was imaginary.

Josh had first seen Tyler when he had started kindergarden. Standing at the edge of the sandbox feeling apprehensive about joining the kids already in the sand he had stood on the edge and out of nowhere, a small skinny boy with big eyes, dark brown hair and crooked teeth walked on up to him and introduced himself. Josh had spent that entire day playing space explorers with him, chasing each other around the playground. When it came time to go home he had asked his Mom is Tyler could come along too and while she had looked confused when he introduced them she had agreed and they went home and had chicken sticks with ranch sauce which was Josh’s favourite and Tyler’s too.

People always had lots of questions about Tyler that Josh never understood. Jordan asked what he looked like, his Dad asked where he was from, his Mom asked how many eyes he had and Josh would always tell them the answers but would wonder why they couldn’t ask Tyler himself. It soon became clear that Josh was the only person who could see Tyler and as no one else had a problem with this, Josh didn’t see it as a problem either. If anything it meant that their friendship was even more special as they were only for each other. Josh would watch Tyler shooting hoops in his neighbours backyard while he was working on his homework and then they would go into the forest to explore before dinner.

As he got older he noticed that his parents started to be less happy about Tyler being around all the time. Where they once had set a place for him at the dinner table they now said he had to go home. At school his friends laughed at the mention of his name and teased him for still having an ‘imaginary friend’ but to Josh there was no doubt that Tyler was absolutely real. How could he imagine someone so perfect and different from himself? Tyler had a smile that lit up the room and told him what to say when he was feeling shy in order to get out of an awkward situation. Tyler was the best basketball player in the world and had helped Josh on his jump shot. Sure, Josh was still just okay at basketball but that’s better than he ever would have been without Tyler. Jordan was the only one who believed him that he genuinely saw Tyler but that made little difference to his parents who were starting to worry about their son.

High school was a giant step that Josh was dreading as he knew there would be so many new people and he wasn’t sure how well he was going to do. His school made them wear a uniform and Josh sat there trying to do up his tie a few dozen times before Tyler appeared, rolling his eyes and standing in front of him. “What do you want huh? Half windsor? Full windsor? Bow tie?” he asked, his dark brown eyes dancing with amusement as he draped the tie around Josh’s neck.

Josh rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but smile. “Like you know any of that stuff.”

“I do! I am a tie tying extraordinaire…” Tyler’s hands slid over the material and with just a flurry of his hands Josh’s tie was tied neatly. Tyler reached for his blazer and he slid his fingers down over the lapels so he looked neat and presentable. “Have a good day Jish.”

“How do you know how to do that? Why don’t I know?” Josh asked with a soft laugh, eyeing himself in the mirror and smiling as he watched Tyler flop down on his bed and pick up one of his comic books.

“I dunno but today is a big day right? You need to tell me all about it when you get home.”

Josh turned quickly and frowned. “What do you mean? You’ll be there?”

Tyler looked up from over the top of the comic book and he shook his head. “Jordan will be there and - I think maybe you shouldn’t tell people about me anymore. They’re starting to get concerned.”

“But I want you to come with me?”

“I’ll be here when you get home but you need to go to school and make new friends.” “But-”

“Josh! The bus is outside!” His Mom shouted from the foot of the stairs. “You still haven’t eaten your eggos…”

Josh gave Tyler a pleading look but seeing that he wasn’t about to change his mind he let it go. Over the last eight years he had learned that once Tyler had decided something that was that and very little would change his mind and Josh would have to fall in line. He didn’t mind so much, Tyler knew what was for the best anyway. Giving him a wave he shuffled down the stairs and got onto the bus, feeling anxious about what was ahead as Jordan chattered away next to him about soccer.

Tyler didn’t keep to his word about not coming to school at all, he would show up when Josh needed him the most giving him a hug or a quick word or telling him a joke to cheer him up. Tyler had been right though, people didn’t react well to being told about him and so Josh kept Tyler to himself. He didn’t concoct some story about Tyler leaving but instead just didn’t mention him at all to anyone. When someone would catch him talking to him he would just lie and say he was talking to himself which they seemed to accept.

It was after a particularly hard day at school that Josh sat down on his bed and vented to Tyler about some guys who were picking on him. Josh watched as Tyler was incensed, pacing around the room and coming up with plans to prank them to get them back. They discussed back and forth what they should do only to be interrupted by his Mom coming into his room.

“Josh… who are you are speaking to?” she asked quietly but the look of fear was clear on her face.

Josh watched as Tyler rolled his eyes and went to sit on the windowsill. “No one. I’m just… thinking out loud.”

Laura hesitated before she came and sat beside her son on his bed. “Josh. Are - are you talking to Tyler?” she asked tentatively.

Josh glanced over to Tyler to check what to say but receiving only a shrug in response he paused before nodding.

Laura’s face crumpled and she bit into her lip. “Is he here right now?”

“He’s sat on the windowsill.” Josh said, always a little exasperated that no one else could see him.

Laura nodded and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Is he still shooting hoops?”

“He still plays basketball but he’s started playing the keyboard more lately.” Josh said with a smile, the pride for his friend clear in his voice.

“Do you want to learn the keyboard?” Laura asked, her voice a little tight. Josh shook his head. “No? I - I’d like to get a drum set but-”

“I think we need to take you to see someone. To talk about Tyler. I think we need to find out where he has come from and how long he’s going to hang around.”

That conversation took place a few days before Josh first started therapy. The sessions took place once a week on a Thursday afternoon in an office downtown. Josh would take a seat on a bright yellow bean bag and talk about his thoughts, his feelings and eventually Tyler. They talked at length about when Tyler would appear and when he would leave, what he looked like and if he had a family, if he had experiences when he was away from Josh.

Over the course of two years Josh was convinced that Tyler was a figment of his imagination. The therapist couldn’t explain Josh’s knowledge of r&b songs he had never listened to, his ability to quote from books he had never read but she was positive that he was created by Josh’s mind and as soon as Josh started to accept that Tyler might not be real, Tyler stopped appearing. Even when Josh would try and think him into existence there was an empty space where his best friend used to be. Of everything he missed it was Tyler’s infectious laugh that Josh missed the most, wondering why he couldn’t hear it anymore if he had created it with his mind. Despite knowing that he shouldn’t be missing anything he felt like he was mourning the loss of someone, his heart aching at the thought he would never see him again.

It was one year later and Josh was a senior at highschool playing drums for whoever would let him play that night and working at a guitar store. Leaning against the register on a quiet afternoon he was reading the latest issue of AP at the store when Chris came in for his shift. “How’s it going?” Chris asked with a smile as he dumped his backpack behind the register.

Josh looked up from the article about Panic at the Disco he was reading and shrugged his shoulders. “Pretty good. It’s so dead today. You shouldn’t have come in.” Chris was just putting his lanyard over his head when he paused. “Really? ‘Cause my band is playing a show tonight and if I could get over their early that’d be great.”

“Sure? I’ll cover you,” Josh smiled. “I’m saving for a new kick drum anyway.” “You should come anyway. You’ve never seen us play.” Chris pointed out, putting his backpack on his back. “It’s at The Basement.”

“Is there a cover?” Josh asked as he turned the page.

“Uh - I don’t think so, it’s only five bucks if there is.” Chris shrugged, giving him a salute before heading out.

Josh walked over to The Basement alone, figuring he’d meet up with Chris after his set and just intrigued to see this band that he had heard so much about. Going to the bar he glanced at the empty stage as he bought a red bull and took a sip. When the lights went down he leaned back against the bar and watched as the dark figures took to the stage. As the music began and the spotlights settled Josh’s heart went still when he saw Tyler there up on the stage. He pinched himself to check if this was really real and wondered how everyone in front of him could be rocking along to the music that a figment of his imagination was playing. His voice was exactly as he remembered and seeing that smile again his knees felt weak.

The moment that Tyler came off the stage Josh quickly rushed over to him, his eyes wide as he pulled him into a hug. “I’m - I’m so glad you’re back I missed you every day.”

Tyler went stiff in his arms and stepped back quickly, looking him over as if he was deranged. “Uh - thanks? I think? Do I know you?”

Josh blinked in confusion and didn’t know what to say, wondering if Tyler was acting this way because he was angry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you go away. Please don’t leave ag-” “So you two have met?” Chris said with a smile as he wiped a towel over his face and curled his arms around Tyler’s shoulder. “Ty, this is the drummer I was telling you about. Almost as good as me,” he winked.

Tyler laughed but still looked at Josh oddly, wondering what his deal was and what he was talking about. “He seems a little out there,” he said politely.

Josh swallowed thickly, watching them interact and he didn’t know what was going on. His breath felt short and his vision was darkening at the edges as he reached out for Tyler’s hands but before he could connect everything went dizzy and dark as he fainted onto the floor.

#joshler #tylerjoseph #joshdun #imaginaryfriend #twentyonepilots #onceuponadream

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