#I made so many notes and connecting the dots is super satisfying (and hard)

[danikatze]

Muddle

a multi-chapter Saraiya Goyou fic

[ID in alt text]

Chapter 1: What the Hell was the Hurry

Summary: The Five Leaves decide to leave Edo with Masa and Yaichi. Ume and Okinu are the first to arrive in their new home town, soon followed by Matsu. While Ume wants to give "opening up" a try, Matsu struggles with Feelings more than ever. An unexpected relationship develops between the two.

Read it on AO3 - or read it here:

Matsu arrived in town much, much sooner than Ume expected.

At the moment he and Okinu left Edo, heading for the place the Five Leaves had decided to try and make their new home, Matsu was still frantically running around (that is to say, walking everywhere much faster than a short guy like him should realistically be able to do) trying to get things done before his own departure.

The news that Matsu was closing up shop and moving someplace else must've spread like wildfire. The day after the Five Leaves agreed to leave Edo with Masa and Yaichi, there was a small, but undeniable queue of servants from rich families in front of his row house. Some he could please with the few hairpins or pipes that were still lying around and wanted to get rid of before moving anyway. The others placed more specific orders.

Otake, Ginta and Matsu still hung out at Ume's place while Ume and Okinu were preparing to leave, and every time Matsu was there he heartily complained about the orders. He hadn't declined any that Ume was aware of. Matsu was not good at refusing clientele.

Ume and Okinu were the first to start their trek to their potential new hometown, and, predictably, they were also the first to reach their destination. The two were planning to stay at an inn and explore the town from there. Miraculously, they found a vacant row house within mere hours of their arrival.

On her trip to the market the next day, at the end of the afternoon, Okinu spotted Matsu in the crowd. She was shocked to see him: not only did she not expect him to be there yet, he looked exhausted. As usual Matsu insisted that he was fine and asked her directions to the nearest inn. Okinu didn't believe it for one second, and dragged him home with her without completing her shopping.

As soon as Matsu stepped into the row house he collapsed. He was burning up and slept for nearly a full twenty-four hours.

Ume managed to get water and tiny amounts of porridge into Matsu in moments of sort of consciousness. Still, when Matsu finally woke up fully, he was craving food. His fever had gone down, but he looked pretty worse for wear still: he was very pale, his eyes were puffy and the fact that he hadn't shaved for almost two days didn't really help him. He was usually so presentable, which made this sight all the more concerning. It actually reminded Ume of the time Masa just rescued Matsu, after being held in the storage room of that candle maker for a few days. At the very least he didn't have any injuries this time.

Ume made him an elaborate meal, with a little help from his neighbours. They were already quite friendly to Ume, thanks to Okinu. He always let her introduce herself first, and made sure she mentioned he raised her on his own. Ume wasn't really comfortable taking the credit for that. She'd done so much of it herself, somehow. It was a really good ice-breaker, though. People were always much less scared of him when they knew that he'd single-handedly raised such a lovely girl.

"So hey," Ume stepped into the row house with a pot of tea that his elderly neighbour on the right made for them. Ume waited a moment for a sign of acknowledgement from Matsu. It did not come because he was too busy scarfing down the contents of one of many bowls Ume put in front of him ten minutes prior. It went in so fast Ume was unable to discern what exactly it was. Ume continued anyway: "did you do the impossible and say 'no' to your customers?"

Matsu put the empty bowl away and grabbed a grilled fish with his chopsticks. Before he himself seemed to realize it, he'd taken a big bite. He held up a hand, asking for Ume's patience. After a moment it appeared that he didn't have any patience himself, because he just moved the fish inside his cheeks so he could reply.

"Nah," Matsu said, then, realising his cheeks could not contain all the fish while talking, attempted to swallow a portion of his large bite and seemingly hurt himself in the process. With a strained expression he thumped his chest a few times, as if that would make the food go down easier, and continued with a tight voice, "I just kinda hid from people at some point, so I could finish everything in time."

"In time?" Ume placed two cups on the floor, and started to pour out the tea, but paused to squint suspiciously at Matsu. "For what?"

"Didn't wanna take longer than a week, or -- ow," Matsu now attempted to swallow a chunk of rice that apparently did not fit down his throat. Ume waited calmly - and judgmentally - for Matsu to get it down and start breathing normally again.

"- or I would've been stuck in Edo forever," Matsu finally finished his sentence.

Ume tried doing the maths in his head - this just obviously didn't add up. Admittedly, he and Okinu hadn't exactly rushed their journey, but they didn't make a leisurely trip of it either. The whole thing had taken them over two weeks.

If Matsu really did leave a week after them, that meant he'd done it in a week and a half.

Ume looked at Matsu, just woken up from sleeping pretty much twenty-four hours straight. He saw the bags under Matsu's eyes and the amount of food that he was currently consuming, and suddenly started to get very annoyed indeed. He sat up straight and crossed his arms. If Matsu noticed, he didn't show it: he only had eyes for the food before him.

"And you made the deadline?" Ume asked, hoping Matsu would say he finished everything sooner than he thought.

"By a hair," Matsu said, casually.

"What the hell was the hurry, you idiot?!" Ume failed miserably at staying calm. It was the indifference that really pissed him off. "Did you even sleep or eat?"

"Of course I did," Matsu's glower would almost be endearing if it hadn't been preceded by one of those infuriating eye rolls. To make matters worse Matsu decided to add, "I just didn't waste time on a bunch of hour long breaks in between, like you guys probably did."

"I'll have ya know that I didn't practically drop dead at our doorstep when we got here," Ume fumed, "and neither did my kid!"

"Good for you," grumbled Matsu, while stuffing some more rice in his face. "Anyway its none of your business how I travel."

"Oh yeah?" Ume laughed incredulously, "well then, in that case feeding you is none of my business either, lemme clear everything away for you."

"Don't --" Matsu practicality threw himself over the food that surrounded him, to shield it from Ume, "- touch anything."

His pale face flushed with embarrassment, although it didn't stop him from grabbing a bowl of miso and slurping it down as soon as Ume turned away in a huff.

Ume's blood was boiling, but he was really not in the mood for any of the bickering that he and Matsu normally liked to engage in. He was pretty tired from the trip himself, despite taking all the necessary rest stops at the roadside, in addition to the longer breaks they took for food and sleep. The first night they spent in their new place, it knocked both him and Okinu out for about two hours longer than usual.

Ume looked over at Matsu and narrowly avoided snorting at him. Matsu scowled so hard that his eyes almost vanished in his frown. A smile formed on Ume's face before he remembered that he was, in fact, still angry.

Well.. no, he wasn't in the mood for that either. And maybe it wasn't really fair to go all parental on a grown man who managed to run a successful business for a good while back in Edo.

He's so bad at taking care of himself though!

His anger subsided, but got the urge to make Matsu feel a bit self-conscious with a fun little snarky remark. Y'know, a little reward for not arguing.

"I'm impressed you still manage to get food in there, the way you're scrunching up your face," he said, with a self-satisfied grin.

"I'm impressed you- you're..," Matsu faltered, "Shut up, I'm exhausted.."

Ume's grin broadened. Matsu turned into such a pubescent teenager whenever Ume went into dad mode. He looked at the few signs of age on Matsu's face, and wondered how old he could be. In his thirties probably? None of the Five Leaves knew any of the other's ages, and they never asked. Ume didn't ask this time either. Instead, he collected some empty bowls to wash up, and left Matsu to simmer down a bit as well.

When Ume returned Matsu had cleared out all the dishes and was stretched out on the floor with his hands on his stuffed belly. At the sound of the door sliding open and Ume stepping in, Matsu lazily looked over, his head lolling to the side. After following Ume with his gaze for a bit, and Ume pretending he didn't notice while collecting more bowls, Matsu sighed.

"Thanks, Ume," he said.

"My pleasure. I like cooking," Ume presented the empty bowls, "and seeing people enjoy my food."

"I didn't mean the food," Matsu stared at the ceiling, and patted his belly, "although, thanks for that as well."

"Then what?" "Dunno,"

Matsu shrugged, "for worrying, I guess."

"Oh," this took Ume by surprise. He hadn't expected Matsu to cool down this much, "yeah, no problem. I have years of worrying experience, raising a sickly kid by myself and all." He laughed a bit and then added in a quasi stern tone, "She was never as damned reckless as you were, thank fuck."

"Hah," Matsu covered his eyes with his hands, groaning, "Masa used the same word to describe me ages ago. I should really do something about that."

-

It took Matsu a few more days to really get back on his feet again. If it were up to him he would've set out to find a place to stay for himself the very same day he woke up. Ume wouldn't hear of it, and made Matsu rest until he felt fit for at least one full day.

He didn't trust Matsu to be honest about that, but he was fairly good at evaluating someone's well-being. He'd been through too many instances of Okinu claiming she was better, and her falling ill again the next day. Once he started implementing his a-full-day-fit rule, she experienced much fewer relapses.

Matsu grumbled about it a lot and then, to Ume's great surprise and suspicion, put up a lot less resistance than he had prepared for. Ume kept an eye on Matsu as much as he could, and the only way to achieve that was to have Matsu take part in Ume's chores and other activities. As time went on it seemed that Ume didn't need to be distrustful of Matsu's compliance. In fact, if Ume hadn't known any better, he would have said Matsu enjoyed being forced into slowing down.

In the meantime Okinu used her charms to find a place for Matsu to live. In no time at all she managed to get half of her neighbourhood either keeping an eye out, or actively searching for a vacant row house. By the time Ume allowed Matsu to go free, he could move into one that was only a fifteen minute walk away from Ume's - or probably ten minutes at Matsu's pace.

Ume started looking for a building that would be suitable for an izakaya, because his little row house of course wouldn't do. That didn't stop him from providing his neighbours with home cooked snacks and (side) dishes. A bit of advertisement for his as of yet non-existent izakaya. He didn't have much luck yet though. Not that he expected to find something after being there for only a week or so, but he was a bit jealous of Matsu, as unlike him, he would easily be able to set up his business from a row house.

[trashogram]

Smut I’ll probably never finish; we’ll call it practice: Killer Croc/Reader

Edit: Warnings for painful sex, slight gore/blood, and violence 

I didn’t expect people outside of those who humor me on this blog to actually read this, but I appreciate everyone who did! I’m putting up a few warnings by request if anyone else is interested.  

“You really meant it, huh?” He asked.

The guttural voice gave you shivers, up and down your spine. Your legs tightened around his waist, bare skin rubbing over the scaly texture assuredly.

“Yes.” You confirmed, knowing that you had to choose your words carefully, otherwise you’d offend him. At least, that was how you thought you would react if you were a killer crocodile man getting a taste of intimacy after God knows how long.

Your slight movements actually managed to push him forward slightly, more out of surprise than your own strength. Again, you weren’t some super-strong mutant, able to lift cars and topple buildings.

He grunted, leaning down until his upper body was atop yours and his enormous hands were on either of you. He stared down at you with yellow eyes that mezmerised; they were unnatural looking and yet still so human - full of little flickers of emotions. The lust was obvious and it made the heat between your thighs that much more intense, but Croc was also questioning. His hesitance shouldn’t have surprised you, but you found yourself melting just a little at the fact that he was waiting for you to change your mind.  

Your hand rose, reaching out toward his chest and sliding up from his pectorals all the way to his jaw. He was scaly from head to toe, but there were parts of him that were softer than others. His neck was strangely fragile, like the underbelly of a reptile rather than their hide.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, swallowing at the way his brow arched.

“Kiss?” He said, tone slightly incredulous. “You wanna… kiss me…?”

“Oh, do you not want… do you not like them?” The statement didn’t take into account that Croc had possibly never been kissed in his entire life, and you’d put it like that on purpose. He didn’t exude any kind of touchy-feely behavior to suggest he’d been given the chance to decide if he liked physical touch like that at all.

His mouth closed, teeth hidden behind a set jaw. “If it’s what you want, lady. Go for it.”

You smiled softly, and raised yourself up just enough to be within kissing distance. Your lips puckered and you pressed them against his straight as a line mouth, noting that this area was hard but not rough. There was give to it, reminding you more of human flesh as his lips parted slightly.

You moaned, accepting the quick draw and release of his breath into you. You could feel his coarse chest against yours, and the heart inside beating quickly as he let himself relax. He groaned into your mouth finally, humming as if he were tasting something particularly delicious while you coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

You pressed your forehead against his before breaking away for air, letting him know without explicitly saying it that you just needed to breathe and weren’t trying to escape. Not that you could from underneath him.

Croc panted with you. “You sure you ain’t never killed a man before? Probably could, if you kissed ‘em like that.”

You closed your eyes and laughed, feeling lightheaded. Your fingers stroked over his cheek and along his jawline as you felt his grip around you tighten up. He squeezed you, carefully but with purpose, holding you firmly.

+++

Leaning down, you kissed the criminal again while balancing yourself with your hands pressed down over his ribcage. Pushing the hair away from your face before rising again, you reached back and easily found his cock and aligned yourself with it.

You inhaled slowly, determination strengthening your resolve as you continued to sink down onto him. The head was fully inside, but you were still far and away from taking all of his length.  

He growled, claws tensed around your waist. It was enough to make you brace yourself with a hand on his forearm.

You grunted. “Tell me how it feels, big guy. Please. I wanna know.”

The sweet request took a while to get through to his brain, but Killer Croc eventually came back to reality. His eyes were glazed over, but you could still see your reflection. You were the only thing in his world.  

“‘S like heaven.” He murmured.

The praise made you blush. Your stomach unclenched as a new sense of confidence flooded your senses, and you went back to working your way down so that he could have more. It was very much work, even as the crocodilian man helped by taking some of your weight. He held you up when you needed to pause, though it became evident that he’d started shaking.

You dragged one hand from his abdomen to your center, circling your clit. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body, reminding you to let yourself feel this experience.

       Your walls clenched around Croc, and you whimpered. It was completely drowned out as the beast under you snarled at the sudden vice. You jerked back as his hips moved upward in a shallow thrust and suddenly you were there. Your ass was seated firmly on his hips.

He was in bliss, head tossed back against the cell floor. “Ahh, that’s … uuugh, real good.”

You giggled affirmatively, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the triumph of taking all of him. You felt beyond full, stretched to a limit many women couldn’t likely accommodate lest they risk injuring themselves.

You were nice and durable, though. Even as you pressed back down on his chest for leverage and began to lift yourself halfway up again. You looked down between your legs and saw how shiny the base of his cock was already, then lowered back down. Again, and then again.

The wetness was a blessing. You were sliding up and down within a minute, unending fullness that kept you walking the line between pleasure and pain.

You cried out as Killer Croc made another attempt at thrusting. It was still slight, but there was no way for it to go unnoticed. He continued to growl, letting one claw grip onto your thigh while the other left you entirely to dig into the floor.

It was so easy to get overwhelmed, and yet the noises you made seemed to egg him on. He got into a disjointed rhythm, really trying to fuck you in earnest.

He was too big. The thrusts felt like being shivved in the pelvis while he hit the farthest he could go inside of you. Yet, you couldn’t do more than squeal and shriek as you bounced violently.

The nails on your thigh dug in and pierced your flesh. You covered your mouth to muffle a scream at the pain, but Croc took advantage. He pulled you forward, squeezing you to him and thrusting faster.

The danger of this getting out of hand had been reached and you felt dizzy and helpless. You couldn’t focus on any one thing whether it be the blood sliding down your leg or the stab of him against your cervix. You sobbed, eternally grateful for your bodily resilience as you were split apart.

This wasn’t going to kill you, even if it felt exactly like that.

“Fuck! I’m, ugh!” His words were punctuated with fast, shallow thrusts. Howling out, he completely immobilized you and buried himself to the hilt before you realized that he’d cum.

Heat filled you, stinging as it joined the static sensation of hurt and tingling inside. You could barely feel the rest of your body, only noting that the base of your spine felt like it was being shocked.

Croc’s relief sounded like a combination of deep growl and a nasal grunting. His hold on you went lax as soon as he had emptied everything inside you.

—-

The sound was distant, faraway thunder that still shook the ground beneath. It was simultaneously comforting and bizarre feeling the earth beneath you giving and taking. Not to mention the strange texture - inconsistently smooth until your arms lowered over its slope and you touched a much harder surface underneath.

Were you lying in some kind of plateau? Or a strange rock that was smooth at its peak and jagged at the base?

Eyelids fluttering, you squinted. There was harsh, ugly light above you, casting a glare against the thick glass before your eyes. It was a wall of glass, thicker than the thickest plaster wall you could find in an apartment in the Narrows.

You connected the dots then, and your head rose with a bit of effort so that you could confirm that you were still laying on Killer Croc.

Yes, he was still there and still breathing. And so were you.

Thank god.

Your lower half felt numb, except for the thick object still lodged inside of you. You grimaced a bit trying to pick yourself up with the added weight of his arms still embracing you, but his softening cock eventually slipped out of you.  

The cum was thick and white, no different from a completely human man’s. The feel of it dripping out of your core was just as satisfying while you struggled to catch your breath.

You were quivering when you felt Croc’s arms drag over your back, pleasantly scraping over your soft skin as he kept your body atop his own securely. He clearly didn’t give a shit about being covered in your combined fluids.

[mollymarymarie]

hi there i was wondering how did you get into writing? were you always a kid who liked writing or did you grow into it as you grew up?

ps. do u have any tips on how to write better for school purposes

oh gosh, hi friend! this is a QUESTION. i am definitely going to be wordy on this ask, too, so forgive me in advance. i love telling stories and i am also a narcissist, so i love telling stories about me.

i got into writing because i loved reading. as a kid, i would CONSTANTLY fall asleep reading books. i have an uncle who was an author and we always connected (even as i got older, he liked Harry Potter, he liked Futurama, he liked the NERDY KID stuff i liked). when i was nine-ish, i distinctly remember writing a short story about a kid and his dog on this ancient program on my mom's computer and printed it out ON A DOT MATRIX PRINTER (that's how old I am) so that I could show it to my uncle because i wanted to write like him.

BUT i didn't get into fanfic until i was fifteen or sixteen (this is a whole story and i'm proud of it so get ready). i was IN LOVE with the Lord of the Rings movies - knew all the cast members birthdays, could quote all the behind the scenes (I can still quote Galadriel's intro on the Extended Edition Fellowship). because of this, I was a member of a Dominic Monaghan fansite. the girls on this site wrote collective fanfic on the message boards. each girl would add their own chapters (one girl was obsessed with the band HIM and I picked up that obsession, still feel so nostalgic listening to Sweet Pandemonium, remembering how dial-up internet loaded Ville Valo's voice one note at a time and i was FUCKING SMITTEN friend).

i decided i wanted to do that. i started a fanfic (literally feel free to throw things at me) about JOHN MAYER and it was totally a self-insert fic with me and my friends as OCs. As my obsessions changed, so did the love interests (i ended up with Benji from Good Charlotte) and the whole thing was like a BAD SOAP OPERA

i continued writing stories about girls dating the boys in the bands I listened to. One about Sebastian LeFebvre from Simple Plan, one about Adam Lazzara from Taking Back Sunday, one about Tony Lovato from Mest. All with my own OCs (less self-insert now)

when i got married (at nineteen by the way, don't necessarily recommend it but it's sort of normal to do that in the south, plus he was my best friend from high school, and anyway we're still married thirteen years later), i stopped writing fic because i thought it was "childish" and because i was writing about boys i had crushes on and i thought it was ... idk disrespectful to my husband to have a crush on anyone else but him (i still have a crush on him, but i can also simultaneously have a crush on dev patel okay), so i moved to fiction. I completed my own novel in a few years but never published it.

THEN ALL HECK BROKE LOOSE WHEN THE AVENGERS MOVIE CAME OUT. I wrote a Loki fanfic (never finished, never published). but i realized writing about fictional characters was WAY more satisfying (and made me feel less creepy) than writing for actual human beings, so I started writing for Marvel characters (mostly just Bucky, which then became Stucky)

at this point, i had never read harry potter (i went to private school, they taught us it would turn us into satanists and it was banned lol), so when i became an adult, i was like I'M GONNA FUCKING WATCH HARRY POTTER YOU DUMB BITCHES (i have a lot of religious trauma because of my school so this was a big fuck you to them). I FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS DAMN STORY. i went in knowing who would die, but not when. And when Sirius died RIGHT AFTER SAYING TO HARRY "Good one, James!" I CRIIIIIED

anyway, around then, i found Ao3, had posted some Bucky fics, was reading a lot of other HP fics and stumbled across Wolfstar. at first, it was WHAT REMUS AND SIRIUS??? BUT DIDN'T REMUS MARRY TONKS??? but i read one. and then another. and then another. and read the books and rewatched the movies and thought WOW WHAT THE FUCK THOSE TWO DUDES OBVIOUSLY LOVE EACH OTHER

anyway, here we are, 28 wolfstar fics later because i discovered that i could keep writing stories about these same two dudes in different ways and different situations and different lives, and i also found a community of friends who are super supportive and equally as talented in writing those same two dudes (and their friends).

the only tips i have for writing better is just KEEP DOING IT. even if you think you have no talent (i certainly didn't, my first fics were HOT GARBAGE), even if you think other people write better than you (there will always be talented people out there who you compare yourself to, i still do this). AND WRITE FOR YOURSELF. i've said this so many times, but write the way YOU want, write in the style YOU want to read, write the stories YOU want to read. technically speaking, I'm probably NOT a good writer, but i like my stories. And there will always be other people who like your stories, too.

AND READ. read all the fanfic you want. take note of the styles you like, the authors you like, the plots you like, the twists you like. and WHY you like those things. figure out why that sentence hit you in your gut so hard, why this fic made you cry, why that character makes you angry. conveying emotion is what makes stories powerful.

And find your niche. find the thing you WANT to write for, and write for it. i don't give a shit if it's a Rick and Morty crossover with Powerpuff Girls. you do you. for example, my first fic was mostly canon-compliant but i MUCH prefer AUs now because i can write these characters in whatever way suits my story.

p.s. i knew i was gonna get wordy i'm so sorrryyyyyyy

p.s.s (or is it p.p.s??) i'm happy to talk one on one about this stuff! though i'm probably far from the best teacher, i am a good listener!

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (86/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[23 May 234 Before Age.  Planet Saiya.]

"That's it," Zatte said.   "I'm almost positive that's where the killer originated from."

On the bridge of their star-yacht, Luffa looked at the star chart displayed on the main viewer and shrugged.  On one end was the Saiya system, represented by a small white dot.   Dozens of other star systems were marked with various symbols and notations, and many of them were connected by lines of various different colors.   Most of these lines wandered out across the map, only to curl back toward Saiya, stopping short at a solar system relatively close to it.  

"How did you work all this out?" Luffa asked.  

"There's a ship on Saiya registered to one of the killer's victims, a Saiyan named Yarrow," Zatte said.   "By the time I found out about it, the ship had already been abandoned, but the navigational logs were still in tact.   From the planet where Yarrow's body was discovered, the ship went to four other systems, and each one reported at least one dead Saiyan."

Luffa waved her finger at the map, as though tracing the route.  "That only gets you part of the way," she said.  

"Right, but I played a hunch.   I traced the same ship's itinerary before Yarrow died, and found other victims along the way.  The pattern breaks down here, where a Saiyan named Okartish was discovered dead.   Turns out he and Yarrow were partners."

"Are you saying this guy stowed away on Yarrow's ship for months without anyone noticing?"

"It seems that way," Zatte said.  "Look, we're having a hard time finding him now that he's here on Saiya, so it's no surprise that he can cover his tracks.   He must have some way to hide his presence, even while he's aboard a spaceship as small as Yarrow's."

"You think he can turn invisible like you?" Luffa asked.  

"I doubt it," Zatte said.  "I could mask my life energy and hide on this ship for a long time if I needed to.   But I'd need food and other necessities.  Plus, a ship's life support systems would detect the extra oxygen consumption from a stowaway.  I might be able to hack the ship's computer to falsify the readings, but that would mean sneaking out of my hiding place to do it.   Sooner or later I'd give myself away.  And on a smaller ship like Yarrow's, it'd be that much harder for me to move around without being noticed."

"So how's he doing it?" Luffa asked.   "We know he's a Dorlun because of the poison he's using, and each Dorlun has special abilities.  What can this guy do?"

"It could be a lot of things," Zatte said.   "Keda could shape-shift, which works a lot better for stowing away.   She hid among the Tikosi for months, right?  I don't think I could have managed that long.   She probably spent a lot of that time making her body as small as possible."

"Then maybe this guy's a shape-shifter like Keda," Luffa said.  

"Not necessarily," Zatte said.   "He might have some sort of telepathic power.  Your eyes might be able to see him, but he can prevent your mind from perceiving his presence.  Or maybe he had some way to go into a dormant state.   That way he could hide in the cargo hold without food or water."

"This is too complicated," Luffa groaned.  

"For all we know, the killer might not have hidden aboard Yarrow's ship at all," Zatte added.  "He may have paid Yarrow for passage, and made sure his name stayed off the ship's passenger records."

"But if he's been using his own victims for transportation," Luffa said, "then he's been leaving a trail all along."

"Well, nothing obvious," Zatte said.  "It's taken me days to piece together all the victims with spaceships they might have used or owned.   I know you're not a big fan of King Rehval's brand of diplomacy, but a lot of these murders took place in a lot of different jurisdictions.    If Rehval hadn't established relations with so many of them, I might not have been able to get all the data I needed."

"It doesn't matter," Luffa harrumphed.  "Once my technique is put into action, we'll find the killer no matter where he's hiding."

"Maybe," Zatte said, "but you needed Rehval to make that work too, right?"

Luffa rolled her eyes.  "He has his uses," she admitted.  Before Zatte could tease her about this, she turned her attention back to the map.  "So you backtracked the killer to this system, but what good does that do us?"

"Maybe nothing," Zatte said, "but if the trail goes back any further, I might be able to find out something about him that we can use.  I won't know until I go there and see for myself."

"You want to take the ship and leave Saiya?" Luffa asked.  

"Sure," Zatte said.  "It'll only take a day to get there."  

"But Planet Saiya would be at the killer's mercy while we're gone!" Luffa objected.  

"That's why we’re not going,” Zatte said.   “You’re staying behind.”

"You want to go alone?!" Luffa asked.  

"Luffa, it'll only be for a few days.   A week at most.   You've gone on training retreats longer than that."

"But the whole point of you investigating was so the killer would try to come after you," she said.  "If the bait leaves the planet, then there's no trap."

"Let's face it," Zatte said.  "If he was going to try to attack me he would have done it by now.  Either he doesn't see me as a threat, or he knows it's a trap.  At least if I leave the planet for a while, it might make him wonder what I'm up to.   He might get nervous enough to make a mistake."

"What the hell am I supposed to do while you're gone?" Luffa asked.  

"The same thing you've been doing, dummy," Zatte said.  "Try to catch the killer with that technique of yours.   And try to find out something about this 'Honor Guard'."

"I already did," Luffa said.  "They're just an elite squad in the Saiyan military.  They handle special missions, things like that."

"Then why would they recruit a civil servant like Finule?"  Zatte asked.  There must be hundreds of Saiyans who were stronger or more qualified, and she was willing to die before letting hem take her."

"You can always get stronger," Luffa said.  "They probably have a harsh training regimen, and she got cold feet.   She was just being cowardly, that's all.  It happens, even to Saiyans."

Zatte wasn't satisfied with this at all.  "Look, if you think that's all it is, then so be it.  Finding the killer is what matters now, but don't whine about being bored if you manage to tackle him early.   Take in a show.  Spend some time with your grandmother."

"Oh that sounds like fun," Luffa groaned.  

"You'll live," Zatte said.  "If it gets too dull, you can always conquer the planet.  Hey, what's the matter?"  

"It's just... I don’t know.  Be careful out there, Zattie.  Okay?"

"I'm always careful," Zatte said.  "But for you, I'll be even more careful.   How's that?"

*******

[24 May 234 Before Age.  Planet Saiya.]

Less than an hour after Zatte's departure from the planet, Luffa went to the capital citadel to find King Rehval.   By now, the palace staff had grown accustomed to her frequent visits.  They still stank of fear and loathing whenever she passed them in the corridors, but they no longer asked her to identify herself or make appointments.  She waited in his bedroom for five minutes, and when he appeared at the doorway he walked up and seized her in a powerful embrace--one arm around her back, the other gripping her upper thigh.  

"There you are," he said triumphantly.  He hoisted her up until they were at eye-level to one another. 

She planted her hands on either side of his head and pulled until they were close enough to give him a passionate kiss.  As their lips finally parted, she bit his lower lip, drawing a tiny trickle of blood.  He feigned outrage, and tossed her onto the bed.  

Over time, Rehval had learned to indulge Luffa like this.   At first, he had been very respectful about kissing her, almost to the point of being submissive.  This was customary among Saiyans, as she was the stronger of the two, but she had always enjoyed the way her late husband Kandai would handle her, back when she was far weaker.   It pleased her to see that Rehval could pull it off.   It wasn't about physical power, she supposed.   Rehval was far stronger than Kandai had ever been, and he was a monarch as well.   He was used to projecting authority, in a way that Kandai could have only approximated with strength.  So it was just a matter of getting him to stop being so damned polite to her.   He was putting his tongue down her throat, not negotiating a trade agreement.  

Even so, he still knew when to back off.  Their make-out sessions would end the same way every time.  Eventually, her guilt over betraying Zatte would surpass the thrill she got from him, and she would gently push him away.  He never questioned her about this, and if he understood, he never mentioned it.  He simply respected her boundaries like a true diplomat.   It made her wonder what would happen if he didn't respect this.   What if he wanted to press the issue?  Would she kill him for his insolence?   Would he try to persuade her to take things further than they already had   Would she give in to temptation and betray her wife more than she already had?

"Shall we go?" Rehval asked pleasantly.  Normally they would head to the mountains to train at this point.  

"Yeah," Luffa said.  "I think we're almost ready to try this thing out."

"You still haven't named your technique?" Rehval asked.  He rose from the bed and fetched a new shirt from his wardrobe.   Luffa had a nasty habit of shredding them during their more intimate moments.  

"What's the point?" Luffa asked.  

"The point is that you have something to call it," Rehval said.  "When you and I find this killer, I want to tell my subjects how we did it.   That'd be easier if I didn't have to keep calling it 'Luffa's New Technique, the One Where She Spreads Out Her Ki Energy Across the Whole Planet While We Sense For Any Unusual Activity."

"Fine, you name it then," Luffa said.  

"You developed it," Rehval said.  "The honor is yours."

Luffa rolled her eyes and shook her head.   After a moment of consideration, she finally said: "Golden Duster."

Rehval paused putting on his shirt as he appeared to digest the name carefully.   "We should workshop that," he said.

Luffa threw up her hands in annoyance.  

*******

Hours later, at their training ground, Luffa and Rehval watched the stars come out in the night sky.  The air was cold, but she barely noticed thanks to how closely he was holding her.  

"That's the Pflaume system," he whispered into her ear as he pointed to a faint point of light that had just become visible as dusk gave way to night.   "That's where my villa is.  I'd like to show it to you sometime."

"You already showed it to me," Luffa replied.  

"That was a hologram," Rehval said.   "I want you to experience the real thing.   The sounds, the smells..."

He might have added "touch", but instead he gently caressed the side of her neck with his lower lip, and she found this far more persuasive.  

"But we can discuss that later.  I've kept you here for too long," Rehval said.  "You probably want to get back to your ship."

"No, it's all right," Luffa said.  "Zatte took the ship into space.  I'm staying with my grandmother until she gets back."

Earlier, she had resolved not to tell him any of this.   He didn't need to know, after all.  Yet somehow, something about the way he held her and the sound of his voice caused her to forget her mistrust.  

"She left the planet?" Rehval asked.  "Why?"

"Chasing down a lead on the killer," Luffa said.  "Not that it'll matter.  You and I should have him cornered by the time she gets back.  

"Then why don't you stay at the palace until she returns?" Rehval asked.  

She took a deep breath and released it as a long sigh.  

"I take it that's a 'no'," Rehval said.

"Maybe," Luffa said.  "Let's focus on the Saiyan-killer, and then we'll worry about sleeping arrangements."

"Fair enough."  Rehval released her and rose to a standing position.    

"Where are you going?" Luffa asked.  "I told you, I can stick around a while longer."

"Yes, but unfortunately, I have some business to handle back at the citadel.   I can either put in a long night or get up early to take care of it before we meet up.    Either way, I need to get moving."

"Business?" Luffa asked.  

"It's a state secret," Rehval said.  "I'd need to arrange a security clearance for you.   Maybe if you and your wife choose to stay on Saiya for a while, we could make that happen.  You've proven to be a great help to the kingdom.  Both of you."

"One thing at a time," Luffa said.   "I'll see you at 0900 tomorrow."

"Of course,” Rehval said.   As he floated into the air, he waved good bye and made that damned wink that she found so endearing and smarmy at the same time. 

“Don’t be late!” Luffa called out to him. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Rehval replied with a smile.   “I know how much you hate to be kept waiting.”

*******

"Where is he?!"

By 1000 hours, Citadel Time, Luffa was in General Ratijio's office, threatening to wreck his furniture.  The general was the strongest Saiyan in the royal military, and unaccustomed to dealing with such a tantrum.   Typically, he would have killed any Saiyan who dared to barge into his office and make such a racket, but Luffa was far from typical, and he knew it.  

"I don't know!" he pleaded.    

Without really meaning to, he glanced at the most valuable object in the room, the palladium medal awarded to him by King Rehval II for his fortieth year of service.  The display case hung on a wall just beyond his reach.  It was a simple tactical assessment.   His territory (office) had been occupied by a superior force (a Super Saiyan), and since he couldn't give the invader what she wanted (the king's location), she would sack his domain to vent her frustrations.  All he could do now was try to minimize the damage.  He couldn't hide his medals now, but if he could keep her attention on his desk or one of the file cabinets...

Then Luffa went straight for the display case.  He raised his hand, although he had no idea what good it would do, but before he could even move, she had torn it down from the wall and moved back to her position in front of the door.  He didn't think any Saiyan could move so quickly.  He thought that she had to use her golden-haired form to tap into that kind of ability.

"Do I have your attention now?" Luffa demanded.  She broke the case apart in her hands and let the pieces fall to the floor.  Then, she knelt down and picked up the palladium medal he had been so worried about.  

For a moment, he wondered how she knew that one was so important to him.  Then he realized that she wasn't just faster than any other Saiyan; she had actually caught the movements of his eyes, and noticed what he had been looking at.  She was a monster, and the king had welcomed her into the heart of his kingdom.   Worse, he had actually begun having some sort of an affair with her.   And now, the king, in his infinite temerity, had stood her up.  

"Luffa," Ratijio said, trying to maintain what little composure he had left.    "He's the king.  He doesn't tell me where he goes, but I can try to find out if, you'll just--!"

"I've been trying to find him for the last hour!" Luffa snarled.  I can't sense his ki, he's not in the palace, and none of his staff have seen him since yesterday."

"What about that technique you've been developing with him?" he asked.   "I thought you could find anyone."

"Oh, I'm coming to that, don't worry," Luffa said.  "The point is, he agreed to meet me at the palace this morning, and he isn't there.  Finding him isn't as important as knowing why he isn't where he said he'd be.   We're supposed to be tracking down that Saiyan-killer today!"

Ratijio swallowed hard.  "Are you saying that the king is--?"

"I showed you how Golden Duster works, General," Luffa said.  "I saturate an area with my own power, and sense for any movements within that field.  It's for finding people who might be concealing their own ki, but it won't work on a corpse!"

"He... he can't be dead!" Ratijio said.  "The Honor Guard would never--!"

Faster than he could register the movement, Luffa grabbed him by the chest of his uniform, lifted him out of his chair, over the desk, and slammed him against a wall, upside down.  The sheer speed of this action was made even more astonishing by the fact that she did it all with one hand.  

"The Honor Guard.   Let's talk about them, shall we?" Luffa said with a sneer.   "They're under your command, right?"

She was still clutching the medal in her free hand.   Ratijio found that he kept glancing at it, even as he knew that he had to focus his attention on Luffa.   He couldn't afford to make her any angrier than she already was.  

"No," he said.   "They report directly to the King!   They're his secret police--"

"Secret police?!" Luffa roared.   "What does a Saiyan king need that for?!"

In spite of his predicament, Ratijio made a knowing smirk.  "You really are a back country yokel, aren't you?"  he said.   "I thought it was just an act to fool people, but you really-- ARRGH!"

Luffa's fingers suddenly charged with ki, and he felt a surge of pain in his chest.  

"Dumb it down for me, then," she said darkly.  

"Fine, fine!" he gasped.  "You might think a Saiyan king should rule by strength alone, but Rehval isn't interested in merely ruling the Saiyans!  He wants to redefine our very culture!  The Honor Guard doesn't just suppress dissent, they enforce Rehval's vision of how the people should behave!"

"Then why would they recruit a file clerk like Finule?" Luffa asked.  "The way I hear it, she was no fan of the regime."

"Finule?" Ratijio asked.  "So they finally took her, did they?  I didn't know, but I'm not surprised.  She talked too much.   Sooner or later someone was going to shut her up."

"Then why not just kill her and be done with it?" Luffa asked.  

"To use her for--!"  But he couldn't finish the sentence.   He knew the information was classified, and that he wasn't supposed to share it with an outside like Luffa, but now he found that he literally couldn't tell.  It was as if the words had been trapped in his throat.

"Use her for what?!" Luffa demanded.  She charged her fingers with ki once more, and he convulsed with pain.  

"They probably took her to--!" he tried to say, but rephrasing his answer made no difference.  

Ratijio had never tried to betray state secrets before.  This wasn't a matter of honor or loyalty, but fear of Rehval's immense physical strength.   But Rehval was missing, and Luffa was here, and far stronger than Rehval could ever hope to be, and this alone made a very compelling case for treason.  Only he couldn't go through with it, and Luffa was rapidly losing what little patience she had left...

"You know, I could just rip the answers out of your mind," Luffa said.  

"I'm trying to tell you, but something is--!" Ratijio began to say.   This time he stopped himself from finishing his sentence.  He knew Luffa wouldn't believe him, since he hardly believed it himself.  

She flung him to the other side of the room, where he crashed to the floor.  Ratijio had the physical might to at least soften his landing, but he didn't want to risk antagonizing Luffa any more than he already had.   As soon as he was able, he glanced to her hand to find his medal was still in tact.  Even as he did so, he wondered why that should still matter to him.

"Don't bother," Luffa said.  She approached him, reaching for his face with her empty hand.  "I've wasted enough time on you already.   I should probably use both hands, so before we get started..."

She held up the medal and closed her fist, crushing it into a chunk of twisted metal.  Then she flung out her arm, launching it like a mortar bomb through the window of his office.   Ratijio was horrified to see this, although he still couldn't understand why.  

And then suddenly, he felt something snap inside him.  There was an intense pain in his head, like something was trying to smash its way out of his skull, and he clutched at his face as he curled up into a fetal position.   He heard an undignified scream, and eventually realized that it was coming from his own mouth.   It was so excruciating that he completely forgot the angry Super Saiyan standing over him.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she asked, though her voice sounded distant to him, as though she were calling to him from across a great chasm.  

And then the pain simply stopped.  Ratijio opened his eyes and looked at the palms of his hands, unsure if it was safe to move or speak.  He gasped with relief, and slowly rose to one knee, until Luffa grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet.  

"It was the medal," he said quietly.  "Damn his eyes, he did it to me just like all the rest!"

"What are you babbling about now?" Luffa asked.  

He noticed she had raised one of her fists and he quickly held up his hands in supplication.  "Wait, don't!" he pleaded.  "I'll tell you everything!"

*******

For lack of anywhere better to go, Luffa took General Ratijio to her grandmother's house.   King Rehval III had now been missing for over four hours.   While Luffa concentrated her senses on finding any trace of his ki, Arracash served him all the steamed vegetables he could eat.

"You don't see brassicas like that anywhere else on Saiya, now do you?" Arracash bragged.  "You'd probably think they were imported, but I grew them right here in my garden."

"They are impressive," Ratijio said between bites.  

"The secret is the molybdenum powder I sprinkle into the soil," Arracash went on.   "Any idiot knows to use fertilizer in this sort of climate, but they don't know to do their homework.  Sure, they can grow some crops, but if they don't pay attention to the micronutrients, you won't have much to show for it on the dinner table."

"I see," Ratijio said absently.  

"Now, the iron levels in the soil here aren't a problem, but you still have to keep an eye on the others.  Boron, zinc.  Manganese.  A lot of people don't even know what that is."

"If you two are through talking about gardening," Luffa growled, "I'd like to go over what you told me, General."

He swallowed hard at the sound of that.  "I've told you everything I know," he insisted.  

"Yeah, and most of it was stuff I already learned from reading Rehval's mind," Luffa said.  "His father, Rehval the Second, was an alchemist.   He used witchcraft-- or whatever you want to call it-- to hold onto his throne and defeat his enemies.   He even used it on loyal officers like you, like that medal he enchanted to keep you in line in case you ever tried to turn against him."

"He kept his powers a secret," Ratijio grumbled, "but rumors began to circulate.   Some of us in the military began to suspect he had some sort of influence over people.  I didn't know for certain until you crushed that medal.  For the last five years, I've treated it like a prized possession and never knew why."

"Well, the only trouble I have with that story is that Rehval II is dead," Luffa said.  "Rehval III found out about his secret alchemy lab and killed his father in disgust.  Only it looks like he didn't bother to track down all the talismans and potions his dad left behind."

"Why should he bother?" Ratijio muttered.  "The current king may not have approved of his father's methods, but he still benefits from the results.  The spell I was under made me loyal to their whole dynasty.   It's the same with the Honor Guard.   I'm sure they're under some sort of enchantment to ensure their absolute obedience.  That's why I say the king must still be alive.   If he died, the Honor Guard would immediately install his successor."

"Who would that be?" Luffa asked.  

"Don't be an idiot, girl," Arracash said.  "Obviously one of the king's children would assume the throne."

"Obviously," Luffa replied, "except Rehval has no children."

"Of course he does," Ratijio said.  "The king is many things, but he's no fool.   To rule over Saiya without an heir would jeopardize everything his house has ever worked for."

"That's impossible!" Luffa insisted.  

"Why?" Ratijio scoffed.  "Did you really think you were the first woman he ever fancied?"

Normally, such a cutting and personal remark would have embarrassed her.   Her involvement with Rehval had been confusing enough before the General accidentally walked in on them in the middle of an embrace.  He had kept quiet about it, but now that he was finally speaking up, Luffa was too shocked to be self-conscious.  

"You and the king?!" Arracash blurted out.  

"I guess you really didn't know," Ratijio said with a snort.   "His Majesty's quite the charmer, isn't he?   Probably convinced you that you were the only one he had ever loved.   Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it's just a line.  Once he's satisfied, he'll move on to someone else and tell her the same story."

Luffa shook her head.  "I read his mind," she said.  "I didn't find anything about children or other women or..."

"You must have skipped a few pages then," Ratijio replied.  

Luffa's eyes went wide, and she started taking quick, shallow breaths as she struggled to make sense of this.  Somehow, Rehval had thwarted her telepathic probe, and she had never even dreamed that this was possible.  In the past, others had resisted her mental powers, or fought back with psychic abilities of their own, but this was something altogether different.  

"Luffa, he's telling the truth," Arracash said.  Her grandmother had approached her and reached out with a sympathetic hand.   "The king keeps his children out of the public, but he's held ceremonies to announce their births.  I attended one once--long story--but the food was lousy..."

But Luffa wasn't listening to her.   Arracash and Ratijio probably thought she was upset over being deceived by a romantic partner, but that wasn't it at all.  Like a witless amateur, Luffa had overestimated her own power.  She had assumed that a thorough telepathic interrogation would prove once and for all whether the king was friend or foe.   Everything she and Zatte had done since then was based on this faulty premise.   There could only be one explanation: Rehval had been manipulating them from the start.  

Her thoughts turned to Zatte, who was currently headed for a whole other star system.  Was that part of Rehval's plan?  Was he luring Zatte into a trap, or was it just a way to remove Zatte from Planet Saiya while he put his true plan into effect?  

"Luffa, what are you doing?" Arracash asked.  

The old Saiyan had sensed Luffa's ki rising as she ruminated over her failure.  Without really thinking about it, Luffa raised her hand and slammed her fist into her own sternum.   Her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth hurt.  As usual whenever Luffa made a mistake, she could almost hear her dead mother's voice scolding her in her mind.  Complacent!  The enemy was right in front of her.  Her wife, her closest ally, had been right beside her.  And what had she done?!  She took both for granted, and now they were both gone.   She could have strangled Rehval last night and been done with this, but instead she held him in her arms, tenderly, and let him whisper sweet nothings into her ear while they looked at the stars. 

"Luffa!  Not in the house!  You hear me?!  Not in the house!"

In her rage, Luffa's ki had manifested like a miniature whirlwind.   Arracash was pleading for her to stop.  Just beneath Luffa's skin, as always, was that thing.   Aside from a private demonstration for Rehval, she had kept it contained during her visit to Planet Saiya.   Luffa wasn't entirely sure why.  Maybe it was because she wanted to at least pretend to fit in with her own species.   While she had grown accustomed to her other form and accepted it as a part of herself, she still didn't relish the idea of showing it off to her own kind, to revealing herself as this yellow-haired, green-eyed monstrosity.  

But now... Now that Rehval's lies were exposed, now that General Ratijio was rushing out of the house in fear for his life, now that Luffa felt like she couldn't make things any worse than they already were... Now, she could see no reason to hold back.  

With a sharp cry, she released her power... released herself, and came to a decision.

If Rehval wouldn't deal with her directly, then she would just take the matter up with his precious planet.

NEXT: Behind the Throne

[ohlookahiddenblade]

Little Town [Part 2]

Words: 3487

Summary: Reader moves to London to escape her ties with her father and the Templar Order. In the process she makes friends with Jacob Frye and comes to the realization the world is a small place. Eventual Jacob x f!Reader.

Warnings: None as of now.

Author’s Note: Okay, here is part 2. Still a little bit slower than I wanted but I think I have some super cute ideas for the next part now that I’m over this hump. Please excuse any weirdness on Jacob’s part. I’ve been revisiting cut scenes to get a feel for him again but I still feel like I need to stretch my legs a bit. Enjoy! <3 <3 And I hope I got this tag thing right too.

Part 1 <-Here

You could barely suppress the soft groan that slipped from your lip as the sun beat in through the thin coverings. By the time you had arrived at your destination you must have been more exhausted than you thought; not only was it rather late in the morning, but you didn't remember the room having a window. Blinking slowly, you attempted to scrub the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand as you sat up.

The chair was still firmly wedged beneath the door handle – a good sign that no one had attempted to bother getting in during the night. Freezing, you heard the distant chime of Big Ben, signaling that it was ten in the morning. You were going to be late if you didn't hurry up.

Throwing the covers back, you leaped from the bed and immediately began to pull the simple shirt and trousers off. Being sure to fold them neatly, and to put the bed back as it had been before, you dressed in the previous day's dress. It looked a bit ruffled, a few wrinkles creasing the skirts, but overall you deemed that it would be good enough to get back to your rented room. In a last ditch effort to look as if you hadn't just rolled out of bed, you attempted to tame your hair, praying you didn't look like a little urchin.

Satisfied as you could be without a mirror, you removed the chair from under the handle and set it neatly back at the desk. The door opened into a hallway that was empty save for a few pieces of furniture. To the left you could hear faint voices and the clinking of mugs, no doubt the men Jacob had mentioned last night. Speaking to a bunch of strangers wasn't exactly on your to-do list at the moment, so instead you decided to go to the right where you faintly remembered the front door being.

As you turned the corner you stopped short of running into a very tall solid man, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It wasn't Jacob, but someone you didn't recognize. He towered over you and was quite imposing, but he didn't frighten you. Instead, he offered you a warm smile that was almost as bright as his freshly shaved head. The bright green plaid shirt he wore accompanied by suspenders and light tan breeches was suiting, but it made you wonder if you had seen it somewhere before.

Brushing it off, you bowed your head slightly. “My apologies, sir,” you said softly.

“Forgive me, miss. You must be Ms. [Y/N],” he replied, nodding.

You cocked your brow, but nodded as well. “Yes, but I'm afraid I must be going.”

“Of course, I wouldn't want to hold you up. Did you grab something to eat?”

The low growl in your stomach in reply nearly made you grimace. You hadn't eaten since you had left the orphanage last night, and the thought of scrounging something up wasn't very appealing. At the very least the stalls in the market would be open and you could grab some bread and cheese on your way home. After a moment, you shook your head in answer to his question.

“No, I haven't.”

“Please, allow me to make something up for you.”

“Oh... I couldn't... I don't want to-”

“I insist,” he said, flashing another soft smile before gesturing to the rest of the hallway stretching out behind you.

Sighing inwardly, you returned his smile – though it was more halfheartedly than anything – and followed him to the room where you had heard the muted conversations earlier. When you entered it was larger than you had imagined. The table sat quite a few men, most speaking loudly and merrily, though a hush fell on the room as you entered. A small hearth sat off to the side, various pots and pants strewn around the cooking area.

You swallowed thickly as you surveyed the rest of the room. Most of the men were dressed in some variation of a matching uniform. They all had some article of clothing on that was green, but then it varied from there. Some were thin, some tall, but none of them was the man who had brought you here last night.

“Lads, this is Miss [Y/N], our guest. Miss [Y/N], this is Albert, Bruce, Otis, Lester, Luther and Miles,” the man behind you said, gesturing to each man. “And I am Lenny.”

“Oh... it's very nice to meet you all,” you offered politely with a small smile and a wave.

Each man greeted you just as politely. Lenny pulled out a chair for you, allowing you to sit before he pushed it up to the table.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I really don't want to put you through too much trouble.”

You could feel the color rising to your cheeks as the man you slightly remembered as Lester set a plate in front of you. Luther brought some silverware, and Otis set a fresh plate of meats and cheeses on the table. The room began to fill with the strong scent of eggs and bacon, making your mouth water as the men gave you space.

Several of the men, you noted, looked as if they had had a rough night. Still slightly disheveled, it was clear that a bought of drinking had happened. You hardly held it against them though as Lester tried to engage you in conversation. He asked little questions – how long had you been in London? Did you have family in the area? Common sorts until Luther smacked him in the shoulder.

“Pardon m'brother, ma'am,” he said in a thick accent.

“It's quite alright,” you said, smiling. “I don't know many people here. It's much larger than where I'm from.”

Lenny shot the group a hard stare before setting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of you. “Here you are,” he said, returning to make another batch for the group.

“Lenny is quite the chef,” Otis chimed in, his mustache twitching as he took a sip from a cup of tea.

That you had to agree with as you delicately spooned the eggs into your mouth. It was quite delicious, seasoned better than anything you had done. The question of where exactly he had learned to cook died in your throat as you continued to eat. Coupled with the bacon, buttered bread, and cold meats you felt better than you had in a while. The men continued to joke and laugh, losing their interest in you for the moment. It was a relief, and allowed you to finish your meal without any interruptions.

Another man with a bowler hat set a cup of tea next to your plate as he retrieved one for himself. You thanked him softly and took a sip, enjoying the warmth spreading through to your fingertips. It was a pity you had to work today; their joy was infectious, and sitting there for the rest of the day with them was beginning to become more inviting.

Suddenly the room fell silent and all of the men stood up as two figures entered the room. You froze, the tea cup still between your hands, hovering above the saucer as a familiar voice flooded the room. Oh no. A sudden surge of self-consciousness forced you to set the cup down, your hands dropping to your lap. Was your hair tamed? Did you look like a scene from a tale meant to scare children?

“Good morning, lads,” Jacob said exuberantly, breaking through your thoughts.

“’Ey, boss,” they chimed.

Jacob's expression seemed to light up as he saw you at the head of the table, though the woman standing beside him didn't seem as impressed. They looked alike, and you wondered if this was the sister he had mentioned the night before. Slowly you began to make connections between the uniforms and the implied leadership of the ragtag gang. This must be the emerging group you had been hearing about from your neighbor.

In a last ditch effort to not stand out, you rose from your chair, your hands clasped loosely against your stomach. “Mr. Frye,” you said softly.

“You must be [Y/N],” the woman said, her tone even and pleasant, though you could feel your stomach squirming under her gaze.

“Yes. A pleasure to meet you...?”

“Evie Frye.”

So she was indeed his sister. For a moment you couldn't help but admired how beautiful she was with the freckles dotting her cheeks, highlighting her bright blue eyes. The strength that radiated from her momentarily made you feel small. Your gaze snapped to the window as you heard the bell of Big Ben ring again, signaling that another hour had gone by. Panic pooled in your stomach as you looked back to the group.

“I apologize. I really have to go, or I'm going to be late for work.”

Lenny seemed to notice your distress and sauntered over, grabbing your empty plate from the table. “I'll handle this, miss.”

“Allow me,” Jacob offered, gesturing with a hand to the door.

“Oh, I can get there just fine. I have to speak to my landlord anyways,” you insisted.

Their hospitality was slightly overwhelming, and you were beginning to feel as if you were overstaying your welcome - especially since you hardly knew these people aside from their names. Jacob seemed slightly taken aback, and you were sure he was going to push back until he offered a slight nod.

“To the door, then.” He left little room for argument as he stepped forward. The gang bid you farewell, which you elegantly returned, taking a moment to thank each of them.

Jacob walked slightly in front of you, guiding you out and down the long hallway you had attempted to sneak out of earlier. As you left the room you could feel Evie's gaze drilling into your back, a shiver running up your spine. It was almost like she could see straight into your soul, searching – but for what you weren't sure. Trying to push it away to the back of your mind, you looked up as Jacob pulled the door open.

A flood of sunlight came through the gaping doorway, pressing a pleasant warmth along your exposed skin. Trying to swallow past the lump in your throat, you stepped around the young man, turning to look at him once you were on the cobblestone path.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Frye. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Jacob is fine,” he said, holding up a hand. “You are welcome whenever you may like.” He gave you a wink and a flash of a smug smirk, causing the heat to return to your cheeks along with a small tinge of pink.

Charming that one.

If you were bold you might have even given him a peck on the cheek in thanks for his hospitality. But you weren't quite that forward, so instead you allowed a smile to tug at the edges of your lips. “I may take you up on it. Until we meet again, Jacob.”

You turned on your heel, walking somewhat hurriedly down the path dare you do something to shatter the illusion that everything was in fact alright. Now you had other matters to attend to, and they were going to be difficult to do if the youngest Frye twin continued to plague your thoughts.

The walk back to the boarding house had gone by considerably faster than you had expected with your mind wandering. Nothing had been worthy of your attention – not even the brilliantly colored stalls and the screaming children had been enough to pull you away from your thoughts. Shaking your head, you stepped up to the house and jiggled the handle, finding it locked as firmly as the night prior.

You huffed out a breath between your teeth with a soft hiss as you looked around. The windows were shuttered, preventing any prying eyes from peeking into the house. Ducking down into the alley way butting up against the house, you noticed that several of the rooms had broken windows. A frown creased your brow as you looped around the back of the house through the neatly manicured gate.

Sitting next to the back door was a pile of items, all of which you recognized as belonging to various tenants. Your stomach began to tie itself in knots as you hurried over, digging through the pile until you found your bag stuffed with your belongings rather messily. All of your clothing was wrinkled and balled up – a completely loss of hours of tediously pressing them.

Your books spilled out as you bent over to try to neatly tuck the ends back into the bag. An unladylike curse slipped from your lips as you hurriedly picked them up.

“The 'ouse was taken back by the bank,” a voice quipped behind you, causing you to whip around and nearly lose the books nestled against your chest.

“What?” you breathed, reaching up to tuck a stray chunk of hair back into its place.

“The bank took it,” a rather large woman said, shaking her head. “Now we got no place t'go.”

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder at the three story house. “Oh,” you mumbled, turning back too look at her. “Where are you staying?”

“The slums. Me sister lives there.”

That wasn't going to do you any good. The distant chime of Big Ben reminded you that you weren't going to have a job if you didn't get going either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you straightened and bowed your head slightly to the older woman. “Thank you. I must be going.”

“A'right.”

The woman seemed to lose interest in you as you pushed past her, shoving the books into your bag. Perhaps the orphanage would have an open room if you offered to work for Ms. Penny. She was a kind woman and could certainly use the help with all of the children she had in her care. Or perhaps the owner of the shop you worked in would allow you to sleep in the backroom until you had a place to stay. He and his wife had become like family, and you owed them a lot.

Sighing, you blinked the desperate tears from your eyes as you hurried down the street. It would work out – it had to. You weren't about to go running back to your father.

“Thank you, Mr. Wiltshire,” you said.

“Of course. I wish we could do more for you, but at least you won't be hungry,” your employer said as his wife handed you a basket with some dried meat and bread. “Here's a little extra. Take the day off tomorrow and see if you can find a place.”

“That's so kind of you. I'll pay you back, I swear.”

He waved you off, offering you a soft smile. He was a short portly man with glasses that were too small for his face. He was balding, and his graying hair stuck out at odd angle above his ears. The creases along his face were warm and told the story of a hard working but gentle laborer. His wife was just as short and wide with peppered long gray hair that was pulled back in a tight bun. Her dress was layered in shades of gray that matched her hair, complete with a white apron across her middle.

“Don't worry about it, dear,” his wife said, patting your arm. “Come back in a few days rested and right.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Giving them one last forced smile, your turned and began your journey down the street, basket and bag in tow. The coming of dusk had brought a hush down on the streets that would surely burst into song and loud drunken babbles now that night was descending on the city. It seemed to be a popular pastime for the workers in the city – one that you didn't exactly indulge in. Getting black out drunk and wandering the streets didn't seem pleasant, and surely the morning after was anything but.

But perhaps a drink – no, you needed to save your money and find a place to live. Squabbling it away on drink was exactly the wrong thing to do, and if you weren't careful you were going to find yourself on the wrong side of a creditor.

“Ah, there you are.”

That familiar charming silky smooth voice brought you out of your daze. The upturned smirk and flashing hazel eyes made dread pool in your belly. Wetting your lips slightly, you gave him the same forced smile you had given your employers.

“Jacob,” you greeted pleasantly.

“I thought I might return this to you,” he said smoothly, holding out a book to you.

“Thank you. I must have completely forgotten about it.” You took it and gingerly put it into your already bulging bag.

Jacob looked between the basket, the bag, and your face, tilting his head slightly. “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah. I was just heading down to the orphanage.”

“The orphanage? This late?”

He sure was nosy for someone who hadn't known you very long. It was almost off putting, leaving a bitter taste in the back of your throat. You hadn't started peppering him with questions, and being extended the same courtesy would have been nice. Nevertheless, you swallowed the nasty after taste of shame and annoyance to answer him.

“Yes, the orphanage.” You frowned and shifted the bag on your shoulder to alleviate the pain from the strap digging into your skin. “Surely there's somewhere you must be, Mr. Frye. I would hate to take up all of your time now that you've returned my book.”

Jacob snorted softly; if he was offended he didn't show it. Instead he gestured to the things you were carrying. “May I offer some assistance then?”

“I've got it. You've done more than enough.”

Your tone was getting sharper with a note of distress the longer you stood there. If you were to get to the orphanage any later you would risked missing Ms. Penny and waking whomever was on night duty. Not to mention the eager faces that would press themselves up against the glass if they were to get wind that you had stopped by.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get rid of me,” the young man drawled.

You weren't getting anywhere with this, and an attempt to shoulder past him was met with him stubbornly following you down the street.

“I have a proposition for you.” You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, nearly causing him to lose his balance as he side-stepped around you. Brushing some imaginary dust from the front of his jacket he allowed a small smile to crawl across his lips. “I know of a place you can stay.”

“How-”

Jacob cut you off, holding up his hand. “You can have the room and all I ask in return is some assistance with a few affairs.”

“Have... have you been stalking me?!” Your tone was incredulous as you nervously glanced between him and the nearest pub, which was beginning to spill over with patrons. If you had to scream it would surely be heard by everyone is a several block radius. Before you could even begin to think of opening your mouth to holler Jacob continued his ramble.

“I wouldn't call it 'stalking' you. Now what do you say? I do believe it would be a benefit to us both.”

“And I don't suppose any of these 'affairs' are illegal?”

“Oh, no, of course not. Simple things, some book keeping, perhaps a bit of the upkeep.”

You stared at him suspiciously, but his charming grin didn't falter as you wavered. He obviously didn't mean you any harm – if that was the case he could have easily done something the previous night. The men that morning had been very welcoming, made you breakfast even; not to mention you didn't have anywhere else to go at the moment. You weren't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Mr. Frye was giving you an easy way to put a roof over your head without being outright insulting.

“Alright,” you conceded, allowing him to take the bag from you.

“Excellent!” Jacob chirped, slinging the bag over his shoulder as you began to walk together in the opposite direction. “This is going to be a wonderful partnership.”

Tags: @ccehrler