#nothing against the seller of course again they were SO NICE it was my stupid ass that was like yeah i can offer an insane amt of currency

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[harry-styles-sunflower]

Meeting You In The Hallway

a/n: HII lovely people! I hope you are all doing well today! This is part 1 of Meeting you in the Hallway. Part 1 is a bit short because it’s an introductory chapter, but I do plan on making the chapters as I go. I’ll put specific warnings in the beginning of each chapter.

What it is: You move into the apartment across the hall from Harry and you begin a friendship which you both want more from but can’t communicate that want. AU. 

Word Count: 1.9k

Pls reblog if you like it 😊

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You had finally raised enough money to buy your own apartment right around the corner of Central Park. You were a registered nurse in the city, but the city was nothing new to you. You had grown just outside of the city your whole life. You worked on 5th Ave so buying an apartment near Central Park was just perfect. Today, Sunday, was move in day and you didn’t come with a lot. Few boxes and basic furniture. Your apartment was on the top floor which gave you the most beautiful view of Manhattan. There was only one other apartment across from yours because you were all the way at the end.

You got to your apartment around noon and began bringing up all your boxes after your mom and dad helped you bring up your bed, couch, and dining room table. You’d get the rest with time. With the view you had you weren’t in a rush to buy a tv. Just a good book and a chair was fine. “Have you met your neighbor yet?” Your mom asked. “No, not yet. Hopefully soon. The seller said he was nice. Not too loud” you shrugged. You figured that maybe it was just a bachelor business man who worked a lot, like you.

Once you finished bringing everything up to your apartment, you said goodbye to your parent’s downstairs. You thanked them as they gifted you a frame of you with them on your graduation day. Their smiles full of pride. “Alright bye, we love you. Stay safe okay? Call us if anything.” Your mom said trying to not get teary eyed. You stayed home for college so this was the first time she felt like she was letting her baby go. “Okay mom, I love you too.” You waved bye to them and then walked back inside saying thank you to the doorman. You’d learn his name another day. Right now, your back and feet were just killing you. You took the elevator upstairs, playing with your new keychain. Apartment 17G. You looked at it happily as you walked back to your apartment. Enchanted by your key you didn’t even notice the man right in front of you until you bumped into his hard chest.

“Ow, sorry. My bad” you looked up and saw two pools of green. Slightly intimidated you looked away and stepped back. His eyes remained on you, studying you, wondering if he’s ever seen you around.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. 'Scuse me” And just as fast as you bumped into him, he was gone. You looked behind you as he left. Noticing just how tall he was. With a sigh you continued your walk until the end of the hallway. You opened your apartment door and closed it behind you. You leaned against the door and let out a sigh. Green eyes on your mind. You heard the door across your apartment open and then close. You grunted; upset you missed your neighbor. Just a few seconds too late. You were hoping to get along with them at the very least.

That night you decided to order in pizza and drink some wine on your balcony. Basking in the last few nights of summer. You looked over to your right and noticed your neighbor’s balcony. It was simple, two chairs and small table.  A few plants near the edge. “Green thumb” you said to yourself sipping your wine.

Eventually it become dark and you grew tired. You cleaned up your kitchen and organized your cupboards just enough to get rid of one box. On your way to shower and call it a night you remembered to check your door. "Can never be too safe" you thought to yourself. As you checked your door, you felt your feet crumple some paper. Confused, you bent over and picked it up.

“Hi, um I think you moved in today. If not, you’ll just see this whenever you do, I guess. Well just wanted to say welcome to the building. Guy across the hall, 17H.”

With a small smile you brushed your fingertips over the handwriting. This was a sweet gesture and your apartment began feeling even more like home. A possible friend you thought. No, you hoped. As you laid in bed about to sleep, you thought of your neighbor in 17H. Was there a reason why the H was underlined? But as you closed your eyes you remembered those two pools of green.

 ~~~

 The next morning was a Monday. You were off that night so you woke up and decided to unpack as much as you can.

During breakfast, you saw the note your neighbor had left you. You flipped it over and wrote, "I'm moved in, thank you for the warm welcoming." You debated whether or not to ask if you should grab a drink together. Instead you settled on, "Meet you soon. Girl across the hall, 17G." After you finished your breakfast you quietly opened your door, setting a stopper so you didn’t get locked out, and slid the note under 17H's door. You hurried inside. You were still only in your pjs and a robe, hair a mess.

When Harry woke up on Monday morning, he got up and put on a tank top, shorts, and sneakers. He tried to go for an early run, before there were too many people in the vast Central Park. He liked the feeling of morning air. As he was about to leave, he thought about the girl he bumped into yesterday. He was so focused on this new song he was writing he didn’t even notice her. She was also pretty short. He had a small gig the next night at a small café. He was getting less nervous of performing in front of people but he got nervous when they were his own songs. He cleared his head and left for his jog. On his way back, he stopped by a bakery and bought some fresh bread and a few pastries. The small bakery reminded him of his old job from when he was a teenager.

When he got home, he barely noticed the paper on the floor. When he flipped it over, he half smiled at the bubble handwriting. So different than his. "Meet you soon" he repeated to himself. He debated going right over and knocking, but then he remembered he was a sweaty mess and didn’t want that to be your first impression of him.

~~~

By lunch time you decided you needed to buy groceries. No more eating out. You grabbed your bag and a light sweater. The day had gotten a little bit cloudy. You tucked a mini umbrella just in case. That’s the kind of person you were. You were cautious, always prepared, because you know... Just in case.

You walked downstairs and introduced yourself to the doorman. You found out his name was Pat and he was retiring next year. He was a sweet old man. You walked to Whole Foods to buy your essentials for now and picked up some soup. You'll have something to keep you warm if it rains. You put the soup into your cart and debated whether or not if you should buy ice cream. You thought oh fuck it, you were getting your period soon anyway. You'd need it. You bought chocolate, vanilla, and butter pecan. You decided it was time to go before you bought the whole store. You approached aisle 5 and leaped for joy inside because there was no line, the customer just leaving. The customer looked familiar though, his back looked familiar. A light bulb lit in your head, that was the guy from yesterday. The one you bumped into. For New York City to be so big, it was interesting how you saw him again.

You paid for your groceries and made small talk with the cashier about the weather. Both of you a little upset that it was one of the last few days of summer and it was cloudy. You walked back to your building a little faster as the clouds got darker. Once you made it inside and up to your apartment door you put your bags down and reached inside your purse for your keys. As you were about to put your key in the keyhole, you heard an enthusiastic "Hi!". Jumping you dropped your keys.

"Oh, shit sorry, didn’t mean to scare you" he said as you both reached for your keys causing you to both bump heads.

"Ow!" you both said and laughed a little. You both fell back onto the floor. Still laughing lightly. When you finally focused on who the man was you realized who it was. "Oh my god, it’s you. From yesterday" you said. He looked at you with eyes squinted. "Oh yeah. You." he looked you up and down. "So, you're the girl from 17G" he said as he pointed to your apartment door. "17H?" you asked. "Yep, H was underlined because my name is Harry" he said. You couldn’t help but like the way he said his name. His accent almost stretching his name out. "Oh. Makes sense. I'm y/n." He brushed his hands on his thighs and reached over his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you, y/n". You shook his hand. "You too, Harry."

He kept ahold of your hand. You realized how soft his hands were. He slowly stood up while still holding your hand and gently pulled you up.

"Thanks" you said wiping your hands on your jeans. You had trouble looking him in the eye. The green was so beautiful you were scared you'd get lost. His sharp facial features reminded you of one of your favorite characters, Stefan Salvatore for some reason.

"Do you need help? Err carrying that stuff inside?" He asked pulling you away from your thoughts.

"Oh um, no actually. Thank you but I'm okay." you said and turned to open your door.

"Okay. Um well, if you ever need anything."

"Yeah thanks. Appreciate that" you smiled up at him. Looking him in the eye for a second. He was so tall.

"Yeah of course. Just knock" he said and as soon as he said it, he realized how dumb he sounded. Why did he feel so nervous?

"I think that may be my only option. No doorbell" you said teasing him a little.

"Yeah" he said looking down, feeling stupid.

To cheer him up you said, "hey, if you need me, knock three times. That could be our own “homemade doorbell”."

He looked up with a bigger smile and for the first time you noticed his dimples. "Yeah okay, that sounds good. Three times." He nodded.

"Alright. Well, goodnight harry"

"Goodnight y/n"

As you both closed your doors behind you, you both replayed how you each said each other’s name. The way your name sounded with his English accent and the way his name sounded with your American accent.

 ~~~

Part 2 is now up!

[artificialqueens]

The Scent of Your Rose Perfume (Nicky x Jaida) - Chae

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m so sorry Chapter Five of ViP has taken like a whole-ass month to update, it should be coming… soon-ish? In the meantime, I have a couple Oneshots/super short multichaps planned to take a break and fix my writers block. I am apalled that there isn’t more Jicky literature in this world, they literally act like a couple irl. When Nicky was crying about you-know-what the other day, I was inspired to write this, so blame her haha. Anyways, enjoy! (I also have an AO3 now!)

Summary:

Working at a Chanel store was supposed to be a high class gig. What Jaida Essence Hall was not expecting was the presence of a tall, blonde, drop-dead-gorgeous shady-ass-whore named Nicky Doll, who has a particular interest in being a total bitch.

aka

I was soft for Jicky and my friends helped me come up with this (hiiii 💯)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474904

—–

Working at Chanel was supposed to be a high class gig.

Beautiful fancy women selling you purses and shoes in a power-cleaned sparking storefront? That sounded like the perfect way to make money to Jaida, and once she walked in for the job interview, it was over; her looks alone could have made her manager of the whole store on the first day.

What Jaida Essence Hall was not expecting was the presence of a tall, blonde, drop-dead-gorgeous shady-ass-whore named Nicky Doll. She fit right in at a first glance—French accent, smooth voice, looked like a fashion model—but was severely juxtaposed by her superpower to read a bitch down for filth while taking a hit from her juul in the back. Nicky was an enigma— a glorious, sexy enigma.

And she was a total bitch.

Exhibit One:

“Good afternoon ma’am,” Jaida smiled at the customer. The woman was wandering aimlessly around the huge store. She seemed like a nice lady, not experienced with the Chanel brand but not clueless either. “How may I help you?”

“I’m actually wondering if there’s a way I can buy clothes from those mannequins?”

Jaida raised an eyebrow. She must have been really rich if she was asking about actual garments. “Yes! You can. What were you interested in?”

“The striped pants, although, I’m not sure they’d look very good on me.”

The honey blonde pursed her lips. “Don’t say that sweetie, do you want to try them on, maybe?”

The customer laughed nervously. “Mmmm, I don’t want to ruin them, you know?”

And before Jaida could tap into her motherly and caring nature, a voice rang out from behind her.

“Those pants will match perfectly to the shirt under your jacket, madame. You’re not going to find ones like those anywhere else,” Nicky carried a purse in her hand, probably on the way to help someone buy it. But, of course, she couldn’t mind her own damn business.

Jaida glared at the platinum blonde, who just smirked back at her through her cherry red Mac lipstick. And then she did the unforgivable:

“I can help you check out, cherie .”

The unsuspecting woman nodded and trotted after the French Fiend, leaving Jaida to stare holes into the back of Nicky’s perfectly ironed blazer.

Exhibit Two:

“Jaida, the sales you’ve been making are insane!” Jackie scanned the documents. “You really are a valuable member of this team, and not just because you’re the prettiest.”

A shit-eating grin smeared itself on Jaida’s face when she turned to Nicky, who just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Hear that, Nicolette? I’m the prettiest.”

“For an American.”

Jaida scoffed. “Chile, tell me that when you do better than me.”

“I am doing better, right Jackie?”

The persian manager looked up from what she was doing. “By a little, but you two are our top sellers.”

Nicky looked at the older woman coyly. God, Jaida wanted to punch the expression right off her perfect face. How could someone so disastrously beautiful be such a jackass? Jaida was constantly asking herself, Do I want to kill her, or kiss her?

Meanwhile, Nicky congratulated herself on upsetting and flustering the prettiest girl in the world, again.

Exhibit Three:

Of course Nicky was also friends with Jaida’s friends. Was the older woman expecting for the blonde to hug Heidi and Jan familiarly when they arrived at the bar? No. Did she? Yes.

“Nicky! Wow, when Jaida mentioned your name I didn’t know it was you!” Jan exclaimed when the Frenchwoman air kissed her cheeks.

“Well, there can be only one of me!” Nicky waved, turning to Jaida. “So, you do talk about me.”

“Yes, I talk about how much I hate you,” she rolled her eyes.

“She talks about how she hates you so much she wants to give you a big ol’ smooch,” Heidi teased.

Nicky’s eyes widened, looking at Jaida from across the round table knowingly, sipping her rose wine with a small smile.

“You know what, Heidi? Fuck you!” Jaida could feel her cheeks warm when she shoved her friend in the arm, taking a long swig of wine.

“No, you want to fuck Nicky, not me!”

The other girls, Jan, Jackie, and Crystal, burst out in laughter. Through her embarrassment, Jaida even thought she could see Nicky turn red, too—but of course she’d never admit or show to that. Jaida wasn’t going to admit anything either; she hated Nicky, and that was a fact.

“Jaida, take an Instagram story with me!” Nicky grinned evilly, standing up from her seat and wrapping a skinny arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders. Of course, Jaida forgot that Nicky had amassed quite an Instagram following that didn’t quite match her old-lady job, and mentioning Jaida (who too, was considered a ‘baddie’ and almost matched Nicky’s follower count—) would be good for her brand.

“Whatever you say, chile,” Jaida complied when the other woman turned her camera to themselves. Nicky pressed their heads close together and Jaida could smell her rose perfume and coconut shampoo as they made cute faces for the screen. And then, because of course she did, Nicky placed a ‘friendly kiss’ on Jaida’s cheek, garnering chuckles and ‘awws’ from their friends.

Jaida absolutely despised her.

But damn, she was hot.

——

It was just about time to close up the store, and it was Jaida’s job to check all two floors of the building and help/kick out whoever was left.

Soft music echoed through the little hallway leading to the stairs as Jaida’s heels clicked on each step. The familiar smell of rose perfume filled her nostrils when she approached the second floor, and her eyes darted around to search for a familiar shock of platinum hair.

Near a display of mannequins and a luxury couch is when Jaida spotted Nicky absentmindedly toying with the sleeve of a jacket and humming. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was something about the way her eyes were glassed over and the way she looked so deep in thought that made it impossible for Jaida to look away. Add on the fact that Nicky had such a pretty singing voice—she was a vision.

It took a few moments for the Frenchwoman’s icy blue eyes to meet Jaida’s. Pretty, perfect Jaida. The one who always got mad at Nicky in a way only someone like her would find cute. The one who always spoke her mind and knew exactly what to say and when to say it. The one who Nicky just had to do better than because her face and body were already so perfect, there was not much the blonde could do to one-up her.

Nicky smiled, and Jaida cursed internally when she felt herself get hot again.

“Nobody’s up here, right?” the dark-skinned woman took a tentative step forward, her arms crossed in front of her.

Nicky exhaled a laugh. “No, just me and you.”

“Right. Well, let’s close a few minutes early, then.”

“Mhm,” the blonde nodded, walking towards the other woman in what Jaida thought was her exiting the second floor. She was mistaken.

The taller woman walked straight at Jaida until her back was pressed on a wall, Nicky blocking a view of the marble stairs. Before Jaida could protest, Nicky traced a hand along the side of her cheek and the shorter girl was acutely aware of how she felt her perfectly long fingernail and how that feeling made her feel other things.

“What are you trying to do, Nicky?” Jaida managed to collect herself enough to ask.

“Nothing. I just like the way your face looks, mon chou .”

Jaida couldn’t help but snort and laugh. “You—you what?”

“You’re very pretty, Miss Hall,” her tone was serious, almost sultry.

“I know I am, now-” she paused when Nicky grabbed her chin. “Now, what is this?”

“What is what?” her eyebrow was raised playfully.

Well fuck. Fucking fuck. After all this time of Nicky being a bitch—a beautiful, funny, stupid-ass bitch—Jaida didn’t realize she was being that type of bitch. No, she couldn’t deny her attraction to the French girl, but she didn’t realize those feelings were reciprocated for anything else except teasing.

“Girl, I’m sick of you playing with me. I don’t know if you like girls or what, chile, just tell me.”

“I like you.”

“I like me, too. Now what?” the long haired girl straightened her posture, nearly reaching Nicky’s tall height.

Nicky scoffed, one side of her mouth curled up. “I thought you liked me.”

“Godammit Frenchie,” Jaida rolled her eyes, grabbing the short-haired woman’s wrist and dragging her next door to the dressing rooms. Each one was large, with faux-velvet couches, fresh white walls with black trim, and doors with locks that hit the actual ground. The shorter woman opened one of them, locked the aforementioned door, and gently shoved Nicky against the wall.

“I’m tired of this bullshit, Nicky. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Merde , I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” Nicky licked her lower lip before roughly slamming her face on Jaida’s.

The first thing Jaida registered when their tongues met was how Nicky tasted like the rose perfume she always wore. The second thing was the release of tension that had built up over the two girls ever since they’d started working together, and god, that felt euphoric.

Nicky pressed their bodies even closer together, hands sifting through Jaida’s hair as she groaned into the kiss. Jaida slid her hands down the blonde’s back, further and further down until she could grope Nicky through the black fabric of her pencil skirt. She giggled in Jaida’s mouth, breaking the kiss to nibble on the shorter girl’s jawline. At that, Jaida squeezed her ass even harder, making Nicky tense up.

“That’s for making me look bad in front of Jackie.”

“Zut.”

“What’d you call me?” Jaida joked, pulling away.

“It means damn or shit, okay?!”

Jaida just kissed Nicky’s neck as a response, biting down gently on her pulse point and making her swear in French—again.

“If Jackie sees a hickey-”

Jaida bit down harder. “That one was for making me look bad in front of my customers.”

“ Jaida,” Nicky gasped.

“Can I take off this stupid uniform?” she fiddled with the buttons on the button up under Nicky’s blazer.

“Only if you do,” the blonde’s hands were at the hem of Jaida’s trousers.

And they followed up on their promises, finding themselves ass-naked on the couch with Nicky straddling Jaida, sucking on her face like she was sucking the beauty right from her mouth.

Jaida was the first to take Nicky’s breast in her hand, rolling the bud in her finger and drawing out muffled moans from the tanned beauty on her legs. She broke the kiss and placed a new one on Nicky’s other boob, swirling her tongue around her nipple in time with her hand. She looked up at Nicky, who was looking at her with the most beautiful expression she’d ever seen: eyes blown out, eyebrows curved upwards, mouth slightly open. When Jaida licked her collarbones and between her cleavage she turned her head upwards and bucked her hips into Jaida’s stomach, a murmured and closed-mouth moan escaping from her.

“Needy Nicky,” Jaida mumbled into her chest.

“What?”

“You tease me with all that, and chile, here you are begging for me?”

“Power bottom.”

Jaida laughed, leaving her breast with a pop and going back to kiss Nicky’s red-stained lips.

Her hand found itself in between Nicky’s legs, feeling the wetness surrounding her core. She gently stroked the folds of her labia, making the Frenchwoman moan quite loudly.

“Moumoune,” Nicky purred. “Go down on me.”

“Needy Nicky,” Jaida lifted the woman off of her, adjusting so that she sat between her legs and Nicky laid on the couch.

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Nicky’s voice was breathy as Jaida kissed her inner thighs.

“If you get to call me all your weird French nicknames, I’m calling you Needy Nicky,” she bit extra close to Nicky’s core.

“Jaida, please, ” she pulled the beauty’s hair.

“Brat,” she smirked, drawing back. “Apologize for embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“Jaida, you salope !”

“Hm,” Jaida nearly stood up before Nicky whined.

“I promise I’ll be nicer, ma cherie .”

“I’m holding you to that one,” Jaida continued her assault on Nicky’s legs. “What does salope mean, anyway?”

“Whore.”

Jaida bit skin again, Nicky yelped. “Jeez, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, mon chou .”

“I hope that means ‘darling.’”

Nicky said nothing, the only sound that could be heard was her heavy breathing as Jaida finally reached her center, licking a line up her folds.

“Fuck.”

“That wasn’t French,” Jaida mumbled, before circling her tongue around Nicky’s clit. The blonde arched her back at the touch, attempting to grip the fabric of the couch.

As Jaida flattened her tongue against Nicky’s entrance, the girl let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched sound. When she teased her hole, Nicky squealed more. It was probably the first time Jaida had heard her speechless.

The dark blonde wet a finger and gently placed it inside of Nicky, peeking up to check on her partner.

“God—Jaida, that feels-” she grunted as Jaida curled up further. “You’re so good.”

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

Jaida could have sworn the face Nicky made when she added another finger was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen—adding on the sound that escaped her lips, a sound Jaida could have probably listened to forever.

“Nicky, someone might catch us,” Jaida cooed. The French girl couldn’t choke out a response when Jaida rubbed a thumb over her clit, just another loud moan.

“But you don’t care, do you?”

She shook her head.

“If Jackie came up the stairs, you’d just keep fucking yourself on my fingers if I stopped, right?”

She nodded. For once, Jaida was in control.

The long haired woman’s mouth was back on the bundle of nerves at Nicky’s core, sucking and darting her tongue all over it. Nicky didn’t even recognize her own voice as she kept whining, knocking her head back as she felt the knot in her stomach glow unbearably tight.

Jaida could feel the girl tense around her, so she made sure to keep her steady pace when the sounds in the room turned into staccato yelps.

“Jaida-” was the last thing she whimpered before releasing on her fingers.

Just to smite her, Jaida took the opportunity to place her liquid-coated digits between Nicky’s lips, basically forcing her to lick them clean. There was something satisfying, sexy, exciting, maybe even sadistic, about watching the girl who’d relentlessly sexually frustrated her suck on her hand like a baby.

It took a few moments for the both of them to calm down, Jaida flopping on the couch right next to Nicky and resting her hands on her own chest to steady her breathing.

“So,” she finally said.

“So,” Nicky replied.

“That was good.”

“You’re telling me!” Nicky flipped on her side to face Jaida. “That was—wow.”

“Nice to know I can do something right with you.”

Nicky’s face shifted. “What do you mean?”

“Well you’re always one-upping me, bitch! Better sales, better hair, better face, stealing my customers, stealing my friends—”

“Jaida, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t…” Nicky bit her lip. “I didn’t think it would be that—that noticeable.”

“So you are a bitch on purpose! Chile, I knew it,” Jaida attempted to lighten the mood.

“Honestly, I do it all because I want to prove I’m better than you, when I know I’m not. I have to work my butt off to get all of the things you get by doing nothing, because you’re perfect.”

“Chile! Shut the whole hell up. I work just as hard, if not harder than you. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You see my perfect facade, Nicky.”

The Frenchwoman stared, then smiled. “Well. Can I get to know what’s behind your facade, Miss Jaida?”

She grinned back. “I don’t know, Ms. Doll. You’ll have to take me on a date and see.”

That evening, Jaida could still smell roses on her uniform.

[chelsfic]

Part 4 - Trustfall - August Walker/Reader - Mission: Impossible Fallout fanfic

A/N: I’m not sure if this is quite the tone I was going for, but almost every time I set out to write something it turns out differently than I originally intended. For better or worse! I really hope you enjoy this little chapter. There’s action and angst to come in the next part!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

You wake the next morning with all the awkwardness and mortification it is possible to feel. Your arms are twined around August’s middle and your bad leg is screaming from being folded underneath you all night. There is an unmistakable drool spot on August���s t-shirt that you are choosing to ignore. 

To you, August seems just as cool and collected as always. He stretches, reaching his arms over his head, deliciously exposing a few inches of his stomach as his shirt hitches up. You don’t notice. His eyes flick to the clock on the wall and he huffs a resigned breath before violently cracking his neck. The blatant masculinity is positively overwhelming.

You clear your throat, “Uh...sorry about that. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here...with you.”

You slowly unfold your leg and hiss against the pins and needles, the painfully cramped muscles. August watches you with an inscrutable expression.

He grunts a noncommittal response, effectively ignoring your poor attempt to address the sudden, confusing intimacy of the previous night. You look back at him, at his unreadable face and realize, with a sinking stomach, that he plans to just pretend it never happened. 

He observes your nervousness with cool calculation. At least that’s how it seems to your eyes. You can’t possibly know that his thoughts are racing. That he’s recalling, relishing the feel of your small body pressed against him, the perfect trust that seemed to exist between you when your eyes drifted shut and you slept without a thought for the locked door that stood between you every night prior to last night. 

“Alright, then,” you chirp, needing to fill the silence. “I’m gonna jump in the shower…”

You trail off. As August shifts forward in his seat to stand up he lets his hand just graze over your shoulder in a comforting caress. It’s there and gone before you have time to process it. But it was definitely there. 

Maybe he wasn’t going to pretend last night didn’t happen.

***

In the days that follow neither of you brings up the strange night you spent holding one another. But the magic of that twilight hour seems to have had a healing effect. The air in the house is lighter. You feel the easing of the tension you’ve been unconsciously carrying around in your shoulders. And there are the touches. It feels natural. Right. That night had unlocked an intimacy between you that wasn’t quite forgiveness. It was more like an acknowledgement of things to come, of the possibility of things. 

Your fingers sliding together as he passes you a soapy plate to dry. The brush of your fingertips along the nape of his neck when you pass him sitting in the living room. And one night when he returns home very late with a blackened eye and a cut over his eyebrow. He walks through the front door and makes a beeline for you, sitting on the couch in the living room. He kneels before you on the floor and winds his strong arms around your waist, pressing his face into your soft stomach. You move your hands in soothing circles over his trembling shoulders. 

Things are...changing. And you want them to. You find yourself looking forward to seeing August at the end of the work day. Driving home with a smile on your face. And you worry when he stays out late...working. You feel the blossoming of possibility between you and you can see in his eyes and feel it in his touch, that he feels it too.

Of course things are bound to go wrong.

***

You’re running late, you don’t even have time to shower properly. You just stick your head under the shower spray to wet it and then throw your hair in a bun. Better than nothing. As you’re rushing out the door you hear August’s quick steps on the stairs. By now you realize he only makes noise when he wants you to know he’s there. Otherwise he’s capable of moving with ghostly silence.

“Y/N,” he calls, “you’ll be home late tonight, right?”

He’s dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and dark grey trousers. He must have business today. When he’s staying in he tends to dress down in denim and t-shirts or sweaters. At first you had found the sight of him in casual wear to be jarring--now it is the other way around. When he’s dressed for business you know there is the possibility of danger. You feel your heart in your throat at the idea of August being hurt and you wonder when that started, feeling protective of him.

“Yeah,” you reply, pushing away the question you have no answer for, “it’s my book club night tonight. I’ll be home around nine-ish.”

“See you then,” he says and takes a step toward you before stopping himself. 

You stand there for an extra beat, feeling like he’s left something hanging in the air between you. Finally you offer him a half-smile and wave goodbye as you walk out the door.

Stupid, he thinks to himself. What is he thinking? That he’s your husband, hugging you before you leave for work? This situation was getting confusing and he didn’t have time today to be distracted by feelings that would be better off ignored.

He needs to think over his plans for the day, the night. He’s arranged for a meeting between two clients, money for information. Simple. The buyer is most certainly a Russian SVR operative although he is representing himself as a businessman in need of insider intel. The seller, whom August will be representing, is some low-level DOD engineer looking to live dangerously. August will be taking a substantial finder’s fee from the deal which he’s arranged for this evening in the house. It isn’t ideal, but the original location he’d selected had spooked the Russian. So, this is his alternative. And it will be fine. It’s a one-time thing and it will all be fine. As long as he is certain that Y/N will arrive home well after his client departs.

***

“So, on a scale of one to dead how much trouble would I be in if I didn’t finish the book for book club tonight?”

You’re perched on the edge of your friend Jen’s desk wearing a sheepish expression. Jen’s classroom is next door to yours. You both started teaching in the same year and had naturally become fast friends. It is a little comical given how different you are. Jen is a garrulous, spiritual star-girl who spends her weekends at psychic fairs and you are a snarky, introvert with a natural skepticism for anything that can’t be verified in a double-blind study. There is just something inherently compatible and complementary between you that makes the friendship work. You suppose it’s a sense of humor and the fact that Jen never really pushes too hard to break into your personal space. Other than constantly bemoaning your lack of a dating life.

Jen laughs at your comically shamed expression and shakes her head in mock disgust, “Y/N...this is like the third month in a row you’ve asked me that question.”

“Hey! At least part of that time I was in the hospital. You know I’m going to milk that excuse for as long as I can,” you reply. You really enjoy being in the book club--it’s just Jen and a couple other teachers and it pretty much comprises the entirety of your social life since well before the shooting. 

As far as Jen and the rest of your coworkers know you were in a bad car accident. The lie has become easier for you to accept with time. Now you can joke about it.

“Mmm...no, sorry that’s not gonna cut it anymore,” Jen scoffs. “But...you’re actually off the hook because it turns out that Maddy and Lisa both had to cancel tonight, anyway.”

You raise your hands in mock victory, “Just as I planned all along!”

Jen rolls her eyes, “You want to go out for dinner at Zorba’s anyway?”

“Nope!” you chirp. “Canceled plans? I fully intend to go home and finish this damn book.”

“Uh huh,” Jen’s voice is laced with skepticism. “Don’t think I don’t know the real reason you haven’t finished it. You have a secret boyfriend, don’t you? It’s the surgeon who fixed your leg! You’ve fallen in love and are going to get married and have little surgeon babies!”

“Good grief! Next book is going to be strictly non-romance! You’re delirious!” 

You walk toward the door that adjoins your two classrooms and force a laugh as you wave goodbye. You can’t help it. The little stutter you feel in your heart at Jen’s words. It’s ridiculous because August is basically a scoundrel despite how nice he’s been acting to you lately. But you can’t lie to yourself. You’re happy to be going straight home after work instead of heading to bookclub. In fact the little bubble of happy anticipation in your chest floats you through your day until you’re once again driving home with a goofy smile on your face looking forward to seeing the man who has somehow, incredibly, managed to carve out a place in your heart.

Tags:

@thorins-queen-of-erebor @viking-raider  @onceuponathreetwoone @angelic-kisses13 @afangirldaydreams @peeyewpeeyew @calwitch @scuzmunkie @amy-choices​

[harrysdimplles]

18 and 49 smutty 😈

18&49!!!!!!! plssss

warning: a bit of daddy kink, hinting of subdrop (but it doesn't really happen). enjoy!

"That was kind of hot."

"Take off your shirt."

YN liked to push. Loved it, really. Dating someone like Harry left her fully aware of how dangerous that could be. It didn't, however, mean that she would stop. 

It was fun, you see? She thrived whenever he gave her that stern, warning look, the one that meant she was too close to crossing the lines they had defined together. There was nothing that felt better than the chill running down her spine when his jaw clenched, body going stiff because he had that iron control over himself, one that he refused to let go of. Unless they were alone, of course.

Going in, YN knew she would have to accommodate. He was Harry Styles after all, finally completely comfortable in his skin, finally free. So she had to learn how to share. Part of him, anyways. The rest of the world could be in awe of him, hell they could even be in love with him but she, oh, she was the one who got to see the man letting go of the walls he had to learn to put up when his life stopped being only his.

So yeah, she liked to push and be reminded that some things were only theirs. 

It wasn't on purpose, not that day.  The couple had been jumping from one continent to the next for almost a week,  dealing with endless meetings and phone calls that couldn't be turned down because there was so much Harry had to get done now the album was finished...and YN was tired. And needy. So, when Jeff said his goodbyes after lunch and told them  H could take the afternoon off, since all they had to deal with now was paperwork he still needed their legal team to look over, she got excited, thinking about all the possibilities now that it would be just them for a couple of hours. YN hugged her friend tight, smiling when he blinked at her because he knew where her mind was going and skipped her way to the car, pretending not to listen to Harry when he told her to be careful in case paps had already spotted his next location. 

Her sudden spark of energy was short-lived, however, cause Harry joined her with his phone glued to his ear, and all she could do was sit there and pout as her boyfriend hooked it up on the dashboard, continuing his conversation as they drove away. 

xxx

"Daddy, I wanna go home"  YN usually refrained from using the term out in the world, except she had tried everything else to get his attention during the drive, Harry's only response being a quick smile whenever they hit a light. She wanted their bed and some cuddles, not to parade around looking at an expensive property when they didn't even need to.

"We'll make it quick, pet" his hand was a reassuring weight on her thigh as the man leaned his head back on the seat for a few seconds, eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the sun.

"Jeff said you were done for the day, didn't he?" she didn't even try fighting the edge on her voice when she asked it, knowing she would have to play nice once they got out of the car. "Why are we here, then?" 

"Cause I got interrupted last time I came here, so I promised the guy we'd have a raincheck. Beautiful house, innit?"  his free hand pointed to the mansion at the same time YN leaned over to the driver's side, fingers pulling at his shirt untile let her kiss him, whining needy pleas against his lips in an effort to change his mind "That's enough now, baby"  the singer pulled back when he heard another car pulling up, not keen on giving a free show to the real estate agent "Need my girl to be good, yeah?"   the ever-present rings dig into the skin of her legs when he muttered the command  against her ear, walking out of the car without giving her a chance to respond. 

If she was stomping her feet when she followed, well, Harry was too busy charming yet another person to notice. 

xxx

The place was huge. And beautiful, but she wouldn't admit to that, especially considering how long the whole thing was taking. To his credit, Harry tried to include her in the conversation but gave up soon enough when all she did was look for bad things to comment on. It was kinda rude, and he hated it when people were rude, didn't he?

He would've spanked her for it, right then and there if not for the seller, just the thought of his hands on her making YN head float a bit. It had been a while since they last had time to properly play,  and it would be a terrible lie if she said she wasn't missing it.

Getting Marco's attention was easy enough. Apparently, the only thing the blond was more interested in than making a huge commission was, well...her. So she put her game face on after deciding she wanted Harry all to herself no matter the consequences.

The relieve she could see on Harry's face once she loosened the frown washed away quicker than YN thought it would: he could be jammed and stressed, but that was the man who knew her better than he knew himself at times, he sure as hell wasn't about to misunderstand what she was trying to do when it happened right in front of his eyes. 

xxx

Harry tried ignoring it, at first. Trust me, he really did. He knew YN, knew that the scene she was putting on was just a desperate attempt to get his attention. He couldn't even blame her for it, because as much as he wanted to ignore the world and lose himself on her at any given day, that just wasn't possible sometimes. 

But like...no.

If she wanted to get under his skin, well, it was working, his mind pondered as she smiled sweetly at the Italian prick, laughing at some stupid shit he had just said. Whatever. If the musician had to stand there another second he would be making the headlines next day for something very, very stupid. 

He wouldn't even regret it, in all honesty. 

"We should really get going. I'll have someone call you when I make a decision, Marco"  the guy had the decency to step back when he moved closer to his girlfriend, that known itch starting to make his body buzz with need. 

"Oh no! You haven't even gone upstairs yet, YN's gonna love the view, mister Styles"  his voice only wavered a bit when he stared at Harry, whatever he saw in his eyes making him uneasy.

"We're leaving. Now."  he had his baby's hand on his before she could reply, walking so fast she was struggling a bit to follow once he gave her a hard look that said she absolutely didn't want to try anything else then and there.

xxx

"That was kind of hot." YN's voice was uncertain when she muttered the words after racking her brain for something that could ease the tension in the car. Harry was too quiet, damn it. She didn't mean to make him seriously mad. She hadn't even looked twice at another guy since they met, he had to know that, right? "I...I like it when you show people I'm yours"  the words came out as soft as she could make them.

He only scoffed, hands tightening against the wheel, deciding to keep driving as if she wasn't even there.

xxx

"Told yeh to be good, didn't I?"  his voice was low but harsh, bouncing off the walls as soon as they were behind closed doors, a wicked grin spreading into his lips when he saw she was watching the way he toyed with his belt, the silence spreading around them

"Sorry. I was just...I just wanted to..."

"Piss me off?" Harry provided, stepping closer to her. "You know I don't share, baby" his right hand lifted her chin, red covering her face as he stared, pondering about what came next. It was a good thing he had some bloody time off, after all. This would take time. 

"I'm yours. All yours" 

"That's right, pet." the feel of her soft lips on his was good, but he needed more. They did. "You just forget that sometimes..."

"No! Daddy, no!"

"Shh, I know, baby, I know" she took the hint when his hands landed on her shoulders, sinking down to her knees in a fluid motion that was always endearing, even with his blood boiling "We'll talk about asking for what you want in a proper manner later, now I have something else for that mouth of yours to do" she had crawled closer during his speach, nuzzling his crotch just to feel him hardening underneath the fabric of his clothes. "Take off your shirt, don't wanna mess it up" she blushed deeper as she complied, and Harry grunted, pulling himself off slowly to the sight of her boobs being freed, fighting his desire to come down and spend at least an hour worshipping them before fucking her against the floor "Open up, love" he had to look away when her lips parted, tongue peaking for a tentative leak on the head, almost as if she feared he would take it away...

Tempting, but not on the agenda for the day.

"No teasing, you've done enough of that already" Harry hissed, feeling her tongue  dip all along his shaft, getting it wet before she came back up and closed her lips around the head, whining and finally giving in to her need to touch him, trembling fingers on his hips when she sucked, relaxing her throat and sinking down slowly before coming back up and doing it again, trying to get more and more of him inside her mouth each time, forcing Harry to bite his tongue not to praise her through it. This was a bit of a punishment, even if she didn't know that for sure just yet.

Dropping his gaze to watch as she kept going, more eager and desperate with every move, big, glassy eyes paired with hollowed cheeks whenever YN had to slow it down so she could breathe through her nose without letting him go, slim fingers pumping what she couldn't fit in, Harry almost gave up: she looked so good, downright sinful, lost for anything that wasn't pleasing him, perhaps...

Then, the way Marco's hand wrapped around her arm back at the house flashed before his eyes, and Harry's own hands fisted on some of her hair, the grip strong enough for her to know he was done waiting. He let her work for it some more, feeling his hips stuttering as his climax got close.

The tears rolled down the second he pulled out, roughly wrapping his hands over his cock, YN finally catching up to what was really going on. That was for him, not them. A couple of seconds was all Harry needed before he was cumming, white streaks joining the tears on her pretty face, messing the girl up further whilst waves of pleasure reduced his brain to a blank mass.

YN didn't move. She didn't even make a sound. Was she did was stand there and watch him with wonder in her eyes, because she was pretty sure that was nothing in the face of the Earth to rival Harry when he was lost in ecstasy.

"Your fucking mouth, babe, I..." she shivered when his thumb brushed against her skin, moaning around it when the taste of his release hit her tongue, focusing on anything that wasn't the throbbing in between her legs. "Desperate, aren't we?"  his smile softened after a while, easily pulling her back to her feet "Look at yeh...daddy turned his girl  into a pretty mess, didn't he?"  H didn't mind tasting himself when he kissed her, deep and demanding as always "Too bad we can't make it worse, lovie. Yeh know the drill, bad girls don't get to cum. Next time yeh want something, just ask" he slapped her ass then, on the side of harsh: they needed to clean up, so he was thinking a long bath and some more teasing to tire her out for the evening. A good plan. 

"Yes, daddy, I will"  

[matrixaffiliate]

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

I want to promise you right now that this story is a happy story and has a happy ending...just stick with me. ;) Next chapter goes up on Friday, August 21st.

Chapter 4

Ted made it back to his flat and forced himself to plug his phone in next to his bed so he would stop checking it again and again. She said she would text him. He just had to trust that.

He tried to distract himself by tidying up his room a bit, but his mind kept going back to how amazing the night had been. Being there with Vic felt right, it felt easy, it felt like everything he wanted things between them to be.

He was kicking himself over that feeling for the hundredth time when his phone buzzed on his night table.

Unknown: Did you make it home alright?

Ted let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and saved the number.

Ted: Who is this? How do I know you aren't a predator?

He grinned and laid back in his bed, propping himself up against his pillow.

Vic: I'm totally a predator. My victims are always white males in their mid-twenties.

Ted laughed out loud.

Ted: That seems fair. I guess I can talk to you until my coworker decides to get back to me. She was supposed to text me tonight.

Ted watched her typing icon with what he was sure was a stupid grin on his face.

Vic: As fun as that sounds, I really was looking forward to guessing your name, so can we drop this game and pick up that one?

Ted: Such a killjoy.

Vic: You promised me clues, Ted…

Ted: How do I know you're really Vic and not an impersonator?

Vic: Because your wolf figurine is sitting on my desk next to my laptop dock, and you knocked half your chips on the floor tonight when Jamie said that it was probably time you found a girlfriend.

Ted groaned. That had, unfortunately, happened. Jamie had asked if Ted would start dating now that he was done with university and only had the one job. Ted had been so flustered that he tipped his basket up and knocked some of his chips on the floor.

Ted: So cruel...why would I give you any information about my full name now?

She sent him a GIF of a baby about to cry, and Ted started laughing. He started to type a snarky reply but stopped himself when a dangerous thought crossed his mind.

What if he called her? Heaven knew he wanted to.

He deleted what he already wrote and started again.

Ted: Don't do that, don't pull on my heartstrings. I'll make you a deal, call me so I know it's you and then I won't hang up until you know my name.

Ted hit send and held his breath. He was beyond screwed at this point. He was certain she was going to play this off, tell him she was tired and they could pick up this twisted game on Monday.

Then his phone rang and Teddy's heart exploded in his chest.

"You waste no time, Weasley, do you?"

"Oh, shut up," Vic laughed and Ted tried to let his relieved sigh out slowly.

"No more stalling, Ted, I want my clues."

Ted grinned, "But of course, I'm a man of my word.

"Clues, Ted, clues!"

Ted laughed. "First clue, a few of my predecessors have been our country's monarch, while another abdicated the throne."

"Ha!" She shouted, and Ted laughed as he moved his phone to his other ear.

"I knew you were an Edward," she laughed. "You're too down to earth to be a Theodore."

"What does that even mean?"

"Doesn't matter, all that matters is I was right!"

Ted couldn't stop smiling. "Are you satisfied with being right enough to not care about my last name, then?"

"In your dreams, Edward."

Ted swallowed. Maybe this was a bad idea, but he was already in this deep, too late to back out now.

"Alright, do an internet search for the scientific name of wolves."

It was quiet for a moment before Vic spoke.

"Canis Lupus?"

"Right," Ted smirked, "and this is probably the part where you decide you hate me. Because next, you take those letters and rearrange them into my last name. You'll only need five of them though."

Vic groaned. "Ted that is an awful clue!"

"I don't know, it stretches your mind and gets your brain thinking. Those are things that are supposed to help stop Alzheimer's. So really, I'm helping you, Weasley, I'm preserving your brain for your future self."

"You're so full of it," Vic laughed. "Come on, Ted, give me more than a word scramble."

Ted could feel the smile stretching across his face.

"Please, Ted." Vic's voice went soft and Ted felt himself falling.

"Alright, one last clue," he looked over at his desk and the picture of him and his mum when he was ten, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. "There's a flower, it's my last name. It's usually purple, but they come in pink and blue and orange too."

"You should send me a picture of the flower."

Ted rolled his eyes. "I have to make you work for something Weasley."

"Fine," she laughed, "I'm turning on my laptop."

"You're going to try and search for it? What is your search even going to be?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She teased.

"I would actually," Ted chuckled. "That way the next time someone wants to guess my name I can make it harder."

"I can't believe it! It worked!"

"What's my last name then, Weasley?"

"Lupin!"

Ted laughed. "What the hell did you search?!"

"Canis Lupus flower."

"Well done, Vic," Ted picked at one of the stray threads on his blanket.

"Why thank you, Edward Lupin."

His name felt like a song when she said it.

"Not a bad name, eh?"

"I've heard worse," Vic's voice was soft again. "But you still haven't told me your middle name."

"No way, Weasley," he laughed, "I don't know that about you, so I'm not giving you that information about me."

"If I tell you my middle name will you tell me yours?"

Ted felt his heart rate increase

"Yeah, I think that's fair."

It was quiet a moment before Vic made her decision. "It's Gabrielle, it's my aunt's name."

"Victoire Gabrielle Weasley," Teddy tried it out and it felt like honey on his tongue.

Vic cleared her throat, "Alright, your turn, what's your middle name?"

"Remus, after my dad," Ted answered without hesitation, "And Edward is after my grandfather."

"Edward Remus Lupin, that has a nice flow to it."

Ted smiled. "I've always been fond of my name."

It was contentedly quiet between them and then Ted got up the courage to ask something he'd been thinking about since Jamie said Vic had him reading a rough draft of a book she wrote.

"So, you're writing a book?"

Vic was silent a while longer before she answered. "Yeah, I, er, I've been working on it since uni."

"And you got a communications degree instead of focusing on creative writing because…?" Ted held his breath, worried that Vic would shut down this conversation.

"Well, I thought a communications degree would pay the bills, you know?"

"Authors do tend to have day jobs," Ted chuckled. "So, what's this story about? From someone as brilliant as you are, I'm sure it's a best-seller waiting to break all the records."

"Well, it's a fantasy epic," Vic started but then she went silent. "Oh, Sean is calling, you alright if we call it a night?"

Ted leaned his head back into the wall and closed his eyes. "Sure, I'll see you Monday."

"Thanks, Ted. See you Monday."

Teddy tossed his phone back on his night table. He might as well find something to distract himself from how much it sucked to be falling for a girl that was so far out of his reach. He changed into his P.J.s and then decided he would see if Kalil was in the mood for some late-night Mario Kart or something, but his phone buzzed against his table.

Vic: What is it with people deciding they have to call other people when they're drunk?

Ted sighed; he shouldn't do this. He should act like he fell asleep and text her in the morning.

Vic: He's singing me the song playing at the pub. It's Jamie's Got A Gun.

Ted laughed and gave in.

Ted: Maybe it's code ;)

Vic: That would be the worst way to tell me he was in trouble!

Ted grinned.

Ted: But think of the possibilities! You could send all sorts of messages with songs!

He watched Vic's typing icon and laughed when her message came through.

Vic: You mean like Viva la Vida?

Ted: You fancy yourself a disgraced king?

Vic: I'm full of surprises.

Ted: That you are Weasley.

Ted smiled as he watched Vic's typing icon blink on his screen.

Vic: I finally convinced him to go home and get some water. I'll see you on Monday, Edward Remus Lupin. ;)

Vic: Goodnight, Victoire Gabrielle Weasley.

He set his phone back down on his night table and flipped the lamp off.

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

OoOoOoOoO

Ted laughed when he walked into the office Monday morning. His wolf figurine sat in the center of his desk with a fence built out of paperclips around it.

"Afraid he'll run back to you?"

"I just want him to understand that he has to stay with you." Vic grinned.

Ted moved his wolf out of the corral and set him down closer to Vic's desk.

"There, now he won't feel like you've abandoned him."

"What about my fence?" Vic teased.

"Oh, I think I'll see what I can get for it on eBay. There's bound to be someone out there who wants a paperclip fence."

"Start the bidding at ten quid. I'll accept nothing less for my artwork."

"Maybe we should paint it, raise its value." Ted laughed at the face Vic made.

"You want to ruin it? How dare you suggest such things!"

"I'm just saying," Ted laughed, "Why settle for less when we could maybe get twelve quid for it instead of ten?"

"You mean settle for eight quid because you had to ruin it with paint." She shot back with a laugh.

"Color makes everything better."

"Of course, you think that," Vic grinned and gestured to his hair.

Ted ruffled his hair, "Well, you told me you liked it that first day, so I think you just proved my point."

Vic smiled and looked down at her hands. "So, did you, did you really want to know about my book?"

"Of course, I do," Ted felt like she'd just offered him fifty pounds. "Is it YA or NA or YMCA?"

Vic laughed and started to give him the sparsest of details.

"That's all you're going to tell me?" Ted threw his hands up. "Come on, you can't expect me to believe you only want to tell me the basics. You've been working on this epic for more than three years!"

"Well, I mean, Sean doesn't really like to hear about it, and I just thought…"

"I'm not Sean, Vic," Ted rolled his eyes. "I want to know everything, so let's get to it."

Vic gave him a shy smile, "If you're sure?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

She smiled and before Ted knew it, they'd lost the first hour of the workday.

"Ok, let's get some work done, and then you can tell me the rest." Ted laughed. "I haven't even logged in yet."

"You're sure you want to hear how it ends?" Vic teased him.

"So torturous," Ted grinned at her.

Vic went to respond but her desk phone rang and for a moment she looked torn before turning her chair back to her desk and answering the call.

Ted grinned to himself as he went back to getting set up for the day. Things were going well, they were having fun, and he was settling happily into not just the position, but also the goal of growing their department into the first branch of Bread & Butter to break off and stand on its own.

But it wasn't so great when Sean showed up at lunch and took Vic for the rest of the day. She texted him an hour after they'd left and asked that he cover for her in the case that Ron showed up, and she asked Ted to forward her desk phone to her cell phone. Ted did so, and then spent the rest of the day feeling like an idiot.

And things continued to go up and down as they moved into winter and approached Christmas.

It only made things harder when Ted realized that he wasn't hiding his attraction to Vic well from anyone, except maybe Vic.

"Why are you looking at stuffed toys that look like wolves?" Kalil sat down next to him on the sofa and leant in to see his laptop screen a bit more than a week before Christmas.

"I was thinking of giving it as a present," Ted defended.

"Right, but for whom?" Kalil gave him a pointed stare and Ted rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"Ted! You're buying a present for your coworker who is in a relationship!"

"I never said it was for Vic!" Ted shut his laptop.

"You didn't have to," Kalil shook his head. "Look, Ted, I'm worried about you. You're obsessed with Vic and she's off-limits. You need to get out of your head. Come to the pub with me and Maira tonight. I'm sure she can get a few people to come too. You need to remember that there are more women in this city than just your coworker."

"Kalil," Ted ran his hands over his face.

"What would you do if she married Sean?"

Ted felt like Kalil had just punched him in the stomach. He couldn't breathe for a moment and his chest felt like it was collapsing.

"See," Kalil put a hand on his shoulder, "I can see it in your face, Ted, you're falling for her. Stop it! Get out and find someone just as great. Come to the pub tonight."

Ted let out a long breath, and he couldn't help but think that maybe, maybe Kalil was right. Vic seemed to like to goof around with him, but she'd shown no signs of leaving Sean for him. No matter how many times Sean let her down, no matter how many times he did something that she didn't like, she stayed. And the nearly five months of working with her had been full of huge highs and incredible lows. He'd loved the moments where he felt like it was just the two of them, but walking out after work on the days Sean picked her up to find he hadn't waited long enough after she'd left as he got a full view of Sean's tongue down her throat left him feeling like a loser.

"Alright," Ted nodded, "I'll come tonight."

Kalil squeezed his shoulder, "Good on you, mate. You'll see, this will be a good thing."

Ted nodded, but a part of him wondered if it really was.

Even with his misgivings, Ted was ready to head out when Maira showed up at their flat.

"I'm so glad you're coming with us!" Maira hugged him. "I've asked a friend to meet us there, I think you'll have fun!"

Ted rubbed the back of his neck, "Thanks, Maira, I appreciate it."

"Let's head out then," Kalil took Maira's hand and led them out into the cold.

Ted realized after they'd been out for a bit, just the three of them, that this was a good idea. He hadn't gone out much at all since before finals in May. Getting to laugh and talk with friends felt freeing.

"Oh, there's Nicki!" Maira jumped up and waved her friend over to their table.

Ted turned around to see a woman who could have been described as Vic's opposite. She had black hair with lime green highlights and it was cut in choppy layers, the longest barely touching her shoulders. And while Vic tended to wear conservatively colored clothes, at least at work and the one Saturday Ted had seen her, Nicki was wearing a bright pink blouse with teal trousers; her orange coat draped over her arm.

"Nicki this is Kalil's roommate, Ted Lupin. Ted this is my friend Nicki Choi."

"It's nice to meet you, and I love your hair!" She shook his hand across the table as she sat down.

"Thanks, I like yours as well." Ted smiled. Nicki wasn't Vic, but she definitely put out the vibe that she liked to have a good time.

And she did. Nicki was loud and fun and not afraid of anything. She tried anything she was put up to. She laughed loudly. She defended her opinions with passion, even if he flat out told her she was wrong. Nicki reminded Ted a bit of the stories he had heard about his mum when she was his age.

Ted was having fun, and so when Nicki scooted closer to him, he didn't think about it when he draped his arm across her shoulders. And when she rested her head on his shoulder, he let her. A small part of him pushed back, but Ted told that part of him that if Vic could snog Sean in the car park, then he could let a cool woman rest her head on his shoulder.

"I'm calling it a night," Nicki moved to hug Maira at about half eleven. Then she turned to Ted. "Will you wait with me out front for my Uber?"

"Sure thing," Ted nodded and moved to follow her. He tried to ignore the way Kalil grinned at him.

"This was fun," Nicki smiled up at him and pulled her orange coat closer around her.

"Yeah," Ted nodded, "yeah it was."

"So, who broke your heart?"

Ted blinked. "What?"

"You have 'heartbroken' written all over your face. I figured that was why Maira called me." She smiled sympathetically at him.

"I, er, it's complicated." Ted shook his head and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah," Ted chuckled, "yeah, I actually had a lot of fun."

"We could keep having fun. I don't expect you to move into another relationship with me, but we could just have fun, spend some time reminding you that hearts heal."

Ted hesitated. He didn't know why, but he did. Nicki was amazing. He'd be an idiot to turn her down.

"Here," Nicki pulled out a gum wrapper and pen from her clutch and wrote on it. "This is my number. Think about it, Ted, I think we could have a lot of fun together."

Ted nodded as he took the gum wrapper. "Thanks, I, er, I'll think about it, alright?"

Nicki smiled and then nodded a few cars down from the curb. "There's my Uber. Thanks, Ted."

She stepped forward and kissed his cheek, her cold lips managing to warm just the skin they touched.

Ted stood in the cold and watched her wave once before climbing into the Uber. He waved back and then the car pulled away.

He took a moment before he went back inside. Gum wrapper still clasped in his hand. He'd had fun with Nicki, and she obviously had fun with him. She was fun and beautiful and he admired her spunk and attitude.

So why was he hesitating?

Ted slipped the wrapper into his wallet and went back inside.

"That took some time," Kalil smirked at him.

"Er, yeah, I, we talked," Ted took a swig from his drink.

"Nicki is amazing, Ted," Maira smiled.

"Yeah, yeah she's, she's really cool, I, er, she gave me her number."

"You're going to call her, right?" Kalil asked.

"I, er, I think I might, yeah."

Kalil stared at him like he was stupid and Ted sighed.

"I think I'm done for tonight, mates. I'll catch an Uber home, let you two enjoy the rest of your night." Ted didn't wait for a response. He forced a smile and moved to the door. The pub wasn't all that far from their flat, and so Ted decided to walk it instead of requesting the ride.

The cold was bitter, but it helped to clear his head, though not enough to figure out what he should do. He wanted to hope that maybe Vic would suddenly return his feelings and dump Sean and be with him. But even with all the problems he could see she was having with Sean, Vic still stayed. A part of Ted feared she always would.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Monday morning rolled around and Ted was trying to figure out if he was looking forward or not to seeing Vic as he drove into work. He'd spent Sunday more or less holed up in his room, and Kalil seemed content to let Ted work through this one on his own. That didn't mean Ted was any surer one way or the other, though.

But when Ted walked into the office, he paused.

Vic hadn't made it in yet.

That felt weird. Ted was never late, but Vic was always early. He tried to shrug it off and get himself settled in for the day. She'd probably hit traffic was all. But even as he kept telling himself that, Ted kept trying to see around the corner of the building out the window into the car park.

Finally, he heard the door push open and Ted spun in his chair, ready to razz her for being late. But his eyes fell on her hand as she pulled off her glove with her teeth.

"You've got to be kidding me." He'd said it before he could stop himself.

"I know!" Vic smiled down at her ring. "I would have thought he would have waited for Christmas or New Year's, but he asked last night!"

"That's," Ted forced a smile, "wow. I, er, congratulations."

"Thanks," Vic smiled at the ring again and then started getting settled into her desk.

Ted thought he might vomit. He needed to get out. He couldn't be here, not with her, not now, now that she'd chosen Sean permanently.

He picked up his desk phone and forwarded it to his cell. Then he shut down his laptop.

"Are you going somewhere?" Vic looked over as he packed up.

"I have a few sales calls I'm going on today."

"Oh, well, are we still good for dinner?"

Ted paused. He'd forgotten all about their Monday and Wednesday meetings over dinner. Those evenings that he looked forward to every week. The moments that he felt connected to her in a way that felt real to him.

"I actually have something tonight. I'm sorry I should have remembered to tell you on Friday." He zipped up his backpack and grabbed his coat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, and congrats again, it's brilliant."

"Thanks," Vic frowned, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Right," Ted nodded and left without a second glance.

He was grateful that she wouldn't be able to see him from the window as he stepped into the car park. How could he have been so stupid? Of course, she chose Sean. Ted had wanted her to like him so much he'd blinded himself to the fact that she was in love with her boyfriend, tosser that he was.

Ted drove home and set up at his desk in his room to get back to work. He tossed his wallet on his dresser and paused. He pulled out the gum wrapper and called Nicki.

It went straight to voicemail, and Ted almost hung up, almost gave into that part of him that hoped Vic would choose him, but he pushed that aside and left a message.

"Hey, Nicki, it's Ted. I was calling to see if you wanted to grab a drink or something. I, er, I hope to hear back from you. Bye."

He set his phone down on the desk and powered on his laptop. Then his phone buzzed.

Nicki: Hey Ted, it's Nicki, I'm in a meeting, but would you like to meet for lunch today?

Ted didn't let himself hesitate this time.

Ted: Sounds great, send me an address and time. I'll meet you there.

[feathersandpaintbrushes]

Entye

ENTYE, “Debt”

— Chapter 2: Sparks

 Chapter 1 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, 

Summary: The Mandalorian and Kas land on a desert planet in search of a new ship, but find trouble waiting for them.

Warnings: blood, injuries, language

Characters: the Mandalorian (Din Djarin), the child, original character

A/N: If you want tagged, just let me know:) Find me on AO3! Heading art belongs to me (Feathersandpaintbrushes and night-feather-designs)

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

It was too fucking hot.

Three frostbitten years on Hoth had forced her body to acclimate to icy winds, and the dry heat of this new planet sucked the moisture from her eyes and mouth and dried the sweat as it beaded on her forehead.

She was miserable.

She shot a baleful glare at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet.  Getting her out of Hoth and onto a new planet – one with an actual town and spaceports – had been their only deal.  She regretted not specifying which planet; it seemed he’d taken her from one extreme to the other.

A gust of hot wind blew sand in her face and she screwed her eyes shut, an explosive sneeze slipping out before she could help it.

The Mandalorian – curse him – glanced back at her and she could swear she heard a chuckle behind his mask. 

“How much further to the town?” She gasped out, hating that she sounded like an impatient child, wishing her voice sounded like steel, but she was thirsty, and she’d already drained her canteen after a measly fifteen minutes of walking.

The Mandalorian stopped and she caught up to him, forcing her breathing to sound even despite the stuttering of her heart.  He stared quietly for a moment as she swallowed, doing her best to keep her face blank.  She wished she could be wearing her mask too, but she needed her mouth free to catch every baking mouthful of air this planet had to offer.

“Not long,” he replied eventually, and with only the faintest of sighs, handed her his own full canteen.  Pride warred with thirst, and she clenched her fists, willing herself not to grab for it.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, pushing the canteen at her chest. “You aren’t used to the heat, I am.  Just take it.”

She did, hands shaking slightly as she uncapped it and took a sip of the still cool water.

“Thank you,” she reminded herself to murmur, looking at the horizon to avoid looking at his mask.

He began walking again after she’d taken a second sparing sip of water, and she did her best to keep up with his long stride.

When they finally got to the town, she was torn between the sheer relief of being in something that passed as civilization again and a sudden panic at the noise and press of bodies around her.  Clenching her fists at her own cowardice, she slipped into the Mandalorian’s shadow, letting him clear a way for her while she acclimated herself to what living in a society entailed.

There were humans.  Lots of them.  And dozens of different species she didn’t have names for.  There was laughter and the smell of cooking and a child ran past her chasing some small lizard creature.  She stopped and stared at a stall filled with spices, her mouth suddenly watering as she remembered all the flavors she’d missed out on when trapped on Hoth.

Someone large bumped into her, making her fingers fly to her blaster. 

“Watch it,” they snarled in a deep, garbled Basic.  Gripping her blaster tightly, she spun to catch sight of the Mandalorian only to hit a different alien, who’s damp skin stuck unpleasantly to her arm.  They hissed at her in a language she didn’t recognize.  A hand grabbed her arm and she nearly jumped out of her skin, shoving her blaster against the chest of the Mandalorian who had appeared from thin air.

“Come on,” he said roughly, yanking on her arm and dragging her behind him into a dimly lit building.  The darkness and the sound of loud music threatened to overwhelm her still further until the bitter tank of spirits hit her nose.

A cantina.  She took a deep breath, letting the familiar stenches wash over her and ground her.  It had been years since she’d been in a joint like this.  Years since she’d had anything stronger than the watery meat soup she made in the cave at Hoth.  But one cantina is much like another, and the sights and smells here were more familiar than anything she’d seen so far on this sun baked planet.

“Stay.”

The Mandalorian pushed his gloved hand down hard on her shoulder, forcing her to sit at one of the sticky booths while he disappeared into the crowd around the bar.

She took a shuddering breath, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on the familiar beat of her heart.  A metallic clang made her open her eyes to see the Mandalorian set a cup of something in front of her.  She raised her eyes to him and smiled tightly.  “Thanks,” she said, taking a gulp of the bitter alcohol.  “It’s just –“  “Been a while.  I figured.” The smile she gave him at these gruff words was more genuine.    

“I haven’t had a decent drink in three years,” she added, taking another gulp.  “Okay,” she said coughing, as the Mandalorian tilted his head to the side in what she imagined to be his equivalent to a raised eyebrow, “I haven’t had any drink in three years.  So maybe I’m a little biased.”  He definitely snorted this time, and she hid a smirk in another deep gulp.  She still felt jerky and droid-like with her expressions.  Three years was a long time with only Tuantuans and herself for company.  She’d talked, of course, to keep herself from going insane.  But smiling – well she’d gone without a genuine smile for nearly as long as she’d gone without a drink.

“So,” she said, setting the empty glass down with a decisive clank. “Where can I go to find a ship of my own?”

-----

It was a hunk of junk.  Its hull was badly scarred, and the inside smelled like the rotten insides of a dead tuantuan.  The pilot’s seat was vaguely sticky, and she was afraid to look in the bathroom.  But it was cheap.  Cheap enough that she could buy it with the few credits she had left over from before Hoth.  And it could, in theory, fly her far enough to get her to a nice mild weathered planet where she could start work doing who knows what.  It didn’t matter.  Anything to keep her fed and clothed. 

“I’ll take it,” she said firmly. She could feel the Mandalorian’s eyes boring into her back, even through his helmet.  She ignored his judgement and set her jaw.  Not everyone could have a ship with an actual bedroom in it thank you.  Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she was grateful to find something that she could fly away on today.  She couldn’t stand another moment of the heat.  Her nose was already red, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever get the sand out of her hair.

“Are you sure?”

Kas turned and blinked up at the Mandalorian’s helmeted face as he appeared suddenly by her side.  “It can fly me off this desert.  That’s good enough for me,” she pointed out.

“There’s got to be something less,” he gestured with a gloved hand, annoyance coming off him in waves. 

“Less what?” she demanded, stepping closer to hiss under her breath so the seller couldn’t hear.  “Less cheap? Less available?”

“Less trashy.” The Mandalorian snapped, even his modulator failing to keep the contempt out of his voice.  “The guy’s ripping you off.  He should be paying you to take it off his hands.”

This was undeniably true; the seller’s eyes had gleamed when she’d offered her meager credits.  Still, she wanted to be free again.  It left a foul taste in her mouth to be in debt to anyone, especially a Mandalorian. 

“Well what do you suggest I do?” she snapped, unable to resist curling her hands into fists.

To her surprise the Mandalorian’s voice was calm again when he answered. 

“Wait a day.  Maybe two.  Either he’ll come down in price or someone else will have something for sale.”

his carefully controlled tone did nothing to convince her; if anything, it set Kas’s teeth on edge and strengthened her resolve.  She took a step back and frowned up at the Mandalorian.

“I’m taking it. Thank you for getting me here,” she added.  “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Turning decisively, she walked up the seller and pressed her credits into his hand with a murmur, aware the whole time of the heavy gaze of the Mandalorian piercing into her back.

------

Night had fallen by the time she’d finished stocking her new ship, and weariness dragged at her eyelids.  One more night here wouldn’t hurt her; she’d gotten her ship, and while it didn’t have a bedroom, she’d scrubbed the pilot’s seat into a semblance of cleanliness, and it was comfortable enough with her heavy coat draped over it. 

She was just drifting off to sleep when she saw flashing lights through her eyelids.  Biting back a curse she opened her eyes to see blaster fires lighting up the desert night.  Curious, she grabbed a pair of binoculars and aimed them at the flashing lights.  For a moment the night was dark, then another red flash illuminated a ship in the distance.  Zooming in, she felt her stomach drop when the light flashed again, revealing the Mandalorian’s ship.

“Fuck.”

She put down the binoculars and rubbed her forehead.  She did not owe him anything.  She saved his life from the sapphire worm, he got her to this planet.  They were even.  More than even. 

But.

But her hand still lifted the binoculars to her face again and her heart still pounded when she saw the silhouettes of stormtroopers illuminated in the red of blaster fire.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Sticking her nose where it didn’t belong is how she got dumped on Hoth with no ship and no radio.  Sticking her nose out where it didn’t belong had earned her scar after scar.  She owed this guy nothing.  He was a Mandalorian.  A bounty hunter.  The second someone who knew her put a reward on her head, it would be someone like him who brought her in.

But.

But there was that child with him.  That weird, tiny little green thing that had curled in the Mandalorian’s cloak while he’d been passed out in front of her fire. 

Before she could think about it any longer, she turned, grabbed her weapons, and ran out the door to the Mandalorian’s ship.

--

The desert night was not much cooler, even without the heat of the sun.  Dry air pushed Kas’s hair off her face as she ran towards the Mandalorian’s ship.

As she neared, the battle slowly came into sight.  Troopers were standing on the ramp leading into the ship, weapons firing at the Mandalorian as he tried to get inside.  Kas slowed and hid behind a small rocky outcropping, some ten meters from the fight.  Settling onto her stomach she pulled her a long, rifle like object off her back.  She’d modified a normal flame thrower to project balls of flames that she found went further than the normal stream of fire from a normal flamethrower.  It was one of her most prized weapons, and the modification had helped her against many sapphire worms on Hoth.

Taking a breath she leveled the weapon, aiming for the troopers closer to her.  It admittedly wasn’t the most accurate weapon.  It didn’t always fire, and couldn’t send out more than a dozen bursts in one fight.  But, it was a decent distraction.

She fired, a fierce surge of joy flashing through her as the fireball ripped through the air, hitting a stormtrooper in the chest.  She had maybe one more shot before she became too obvious of a target. 

The second shot went left, hitting the feet of one trooper but skimming the Mandalorian’s cape, which promptly caught fire.

Cursing, she shoved the flame thrower back onto the holster on her back and grabbed her staff off her back.  It was her own version of an electrostaff that had been used by the empire.  Hers was much smaller, built for close combat and easy storage.  It folded in the middle when not in use.  Between the flamethrower that strapped to her back, the blaster hanging from her right hip, and the small dagger she kept sheathed on her belt, she didn’t have room for a long swinging pole.  While not as strong, the electrified end hurt like hell, and the other end sported a blade, strong enough to pierce most armor if she gave it a solid thrust.  

Kas ran quickly towards the fight and pressed the electrified end of her staff against the side of the trooper who was approaching the Mandalorian, who was busy beating the flames off his cape.

“Sorry about that,” she gasped to him as she spun to block a blow from a different trooper.  The Mandalorian recovered quickly, shooting a grappling hook out from his bracer and tripping a trooper before shooting it unceremoniously in the head.

“I had it covered,” he shouted as she grappled with a trooper, grunting as their fist punched into her stomach.

“Duck,” a familiar voice growled next to her ear, and she dropped quickly, watching as the Mandalorian’s arm lunged above her and buried a knife into the trooper’s neck.

The fight was a blur.  There had to be at least a dozen troopers, but there were two of them at least.  And the Mandalorian was a good fighter.

So was she.

She reveled in it, a savage grin stretching her lips as she parried a blow from a trooper and then followed through with a stab of the bladed side of her staff.

They were both quick in their movements, and they slid past each other and watched each others backs like they'd been at this deadly dance together for years.

Pain sliced through Kas’s arm and she snarled, throwing herself at the trooper whose blaster fire had carved a shallow groove into her flesh.

The only problem, she thought grimly as she pushed the electric staff against the troopers neck, was that she didn’t have armor, while the Mandalorian did.  He could take hits and even some blaster fire, protected by the shiny beskar that covered his body.  Her only protection lay with how fast she could move.

A flash of movement flickered in the corner of her eye, and Kas turned to see the Mandalorian, flinching slightly as his gloved hand grabbed her injured arm.

“The child,” he gasped before turning, distracted as a trooper fired at him from a distance.

Kas felt a lurch deep within her stomach as she turned, catching a glimpse of a trooper through the front window of the ship.

She turned and ran up the ramp, hearing shots and realizing the Mandalorian was covering her with fire.

Inside the ship was dark, and she holstered her staff, grabbing the blaster off her hip instead.

“Stop right there.”

Kas froze and turned around with her blaster raised to see a trooper step out of the shadows, a bundle in their arms.

“Drop your weapon.”

The blaster fell to the ground with a metallic clang that echoed in the dark ship.

The bundle in the trooper’s arms moved, a small hand pushing its way out of the cloth.  The sight of it, so small and fragile, filled Kas’s heart with a black rage.  She didn’t know what the troopers wanted with it.  Didn’t know why the Mandalorian was fighting with them.  But she knew deep within her that they should not have the child.

The anger was hot within her, flames twisting in her stomach and up her throat, choking her with the desire to kill whoever stood against the child.  Her hand grasped the dagger sheathed in her belt.

She was fast.  The blade left her hand in the space between heart beats and landed in the troopers neck.  The trooper fell, the child with them, and Kas lunged forward to grab it, heart beating too loud to hear the blaster shot, fire inside too hot to feel the burn of the hole that sizzled in her flesh above her heart.

But the sound of heavy boots walking up the ramp had her moving, gripping the precious bundle to her chest as she snarled, blaster she’d snatched from the ground pointing out at the Mandalorian as he approached her.

 Her ears were buzzing, and she stared blankly at him for a long moment.

“…over, we need to go….. to me”

She blinked and swayed slightly, not lowering her blaster as the Mandalorian kneeled beside her, taking the child from her unresisting hands.

“It’s over,” he repeated gently. “We need to go.”

---

She looked horrible.

Din had helped the girl up to the cockpit, brows furrowing with concern behind his mask as she slumped in the copilot’s seat.  She was bleeding heavily from her shoulder and was pale in the dim light, but he wouldn’t be able to offer her help until they got into hyperspace.

The ship came to life with a soft whir as he began moving switches and pulling levers one handed – he was still too keyed up from the fighting to put the child down.

Once safely in the air he pulled the med pack down from where it was stored and walked slowly over to Kas.  She stirred as if waking from a slumber, and when she met his eyes he was startled by the sadness there.

“So much for getting my own ship, huh?” She said with a weak smile.

Guilt settled into the bottom of his stomach, and Din kneeled beside her, placing the child on her lap.

“Thank you for helping back there,” he murmured, and the smile settled more firmly on her lips.

“I couldn’t let them hurt this little guy,” she explained, uninjured hand lightly touching the tip of the child’s ear.

“We need to stop the bleeding.  Is it okay if I help?”

Her eyes were hazel, he noticed, and looked wary as she nodded her permission.

The blaster shot had hit the fleshy spot of her shoulder, below the collar bone.  Another shot has carved a shallow groove into her bicep.  He did his best to be gentle as he cleaned the wounds, but she went even paler and hissed loudly when the antiseptic touched her skin.  The cauterizing pen was even worse; both of them were sweating by the time he’d finished sealing the deeper wound, and Kas’s nails had left grooves in the leather of the seat, a low growl sliding between her clenched teeth all the while.

The difference between the pale, pained woman in front of him and the ferocious fighter from an hour ago was startling to Din.  Before her eyes had snapped and gleamed; he’d even caught sight of her smiling savagely as she killed the troopers attacking them.  Now she was just… human.  Weariness showed in the purple shadows under her eyes and the tightness of her lips.  She smelled like blood and sweat and blaster smoke.  Yet under it all he still saw the woman who had been hunched in the shadows, cradling the child in her arms like the most precious jewel in the world even as blood dripped down her arm.

He didn’t trust her.  He couldn’t trust her.

But she’d fought with him, fought for the child.

She could have left them; she had her own ship, her freedom.  But she’d turned back to help them.

He couldn’t trust her.

But he did respect her.  And she was a fucking good fighter.

He could use a good fighter.

“We can find a way to get you back to your ship,” Din offered, standing.

“Or?”

Kas turned her head, keeping her eyes on him as he put the med pack away and sat back at the captain’s seat.

“Or,” he said evenly, feeling as his her eyes were locked directly on him, despite the helmet separating them.

“Or you could come with us.  You’re good in a fight.  And the kid likes you.  I can’t offer you anything, and I can’t promise that it’d be safe.  But I can offer my help when there’s trouble, and a place to stay.”

Kas’s face was still pale and clammy, but a look of peace washed over her features.  Her eyes were blazing as they met his, and he was startled by the hope he saw in them.

“Where to next, partner?”

tags: @knockbeforeyouspeak​ 

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 11: Dinner with Dr. Heart Stealer

As the clock struck seven, Nami critiqued her outfit in the mirror; a strapless little black dress that hugged her curves like a glove, gold stiletto heels, black thigh-high stockings, and the tourmaline jewelry she’d bought from the seller in Tokken. She even used the hairpins Law had gotten her to clip back the left side of her hair. She finished off the look with some dark red lipstick and gold smokey eyeshadow, giving herself an elegant but sensual look.

“Getting all dressed up for the captain?” Ikkaku teased from her bed. The engineer was thumbing through the romance novel she’d caught Nami with, and though it wasn’t her usual thing, had decided to give it a shot. After all, it had managed to entrance the usually energetic navigator for hours, and she had some time to kill before Ladies Night.

Brushing some gold highlighter over her cheekbones, Nami scoffed. “Please, I’m getting dressed up for you. Law’s just a lucky bastard who benefits due to scheduling.”

“I’m flattered,” she said with a wink. “Though I’ll understand if you ditch me to take him back to the nearest inn so he can rock your world. I mean, I won’t be happy, but I’ll understand.”

“Ok, I gotta ask—have you ever slept with Law? Because you’re always vouching for his sexual prowess…”

Ikkaku immediately made fake gagging sounds. “Oh, hell no! That’d be like fucking one of my brothers! But I have talked to some of his past lovers, and they all seemed pretty damn satisfied. Something a girl like you deserves to be.”

Hip jutting out and eyebrow raised in challenge, Nami replied, “How do you know they aren’t lying? Maybe he’s terrible in bed but they’re all too scared to speak ill of the Surgeon of Death, especially to one of his fearsome subordinates.”

The grin said subordinate graced her with was nothing short of salacious. “Because if he were bad, Drake wouldn’t keep coming back for more, even though Law pisses him off so much.”

Nami bit her lip to hide her grin. “Ok, fair point. Also, I want the inside scoop on that relationship.”

“If Law doesn’t give you the dirty details himself, I’ll happily fill you in,” she replied, sniggering. “Bet they’ll give you better fantasies than whatever’s in your books!”

Pink rose to the redhead’s cheeks as her eyes briefly darted to the space under her bed. Nami had shoved Ikkaku’s scandalous box to the very back corner to hopefully never see the light of day again. She dared not throw them out; she doubted Ikkaku would take kindly to it, and knowing her, would probably present her with something even more embarrassing in retaliation. “By the way, as much as I hate your stupid ‘gift’, thanks for not spilling that to everyone. At least, not directly.”

“I thought about it but figured the sex toys would be just as funny without the guys prying into your hobbies. Most of them have enough tact to keep them from teasing you about a dildo, but I doubt they’d show the same restraint if they found out you were into erotic novels.”

“You just want to lord my guilty pleasure over me, don’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“I have a sister, remember?”

“Ha! Good point. I’m guessing she teases you about this stuff?” she asked, pointing to the book.

Chocolate eyes rolled in exasperated fondness as she played with her bracelet. “All the time. It was annoying, but I guess I appreciated it, in a way. It was one of the more normal things we could talk about, given how screwed up our situation was.”

“Because of the pirates holding your town hostage?”

“Yeah,” she replied, debating on whether she should elaborate. Finally, she added, “I was kind of an outcast among the townsfolk because I made sea charts for the captain. My sister was the only one who knew it was against my will, and that I had made a deal to raise money to buy the village back. Or at least, they all pretended not to know so if I ever decided to give up and run away, I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You know, I’m beginning to understand why you have so many trust issues,” Ikkaku quipped, though her eyes were sympathetic.

“Believe me, it was way worse before Luffy came into my life. If we’d met a year ago, I would have already betrayed you and stolen the ship and all the treasure on board.”

“You could try, but the Boss would kill you. He loves this ship and he does not take threats to his crew lightly.”

“I’ve noticed,” Nami deadpanned, adjusting her bodice. It was a sweetheart neckline, which nicely accented her generous bust, had enough support to keep her from spilling out. Such a thing was extremely necessary, given the low back of the dress. Not long ago, she would have been nervous wearing something so daring around Law, but she was still leaning on the theory that he had a weird fetish for modest clothing. If she was right, showing this much skin would act as a repellant.

“He wasn’t too rough with you, was he?” Ikkaku asked, genuinely concerned. “I mean, he can get intense—”

“Oh, he was absolutely terrifying, and I’m pretty sure he was ready to start removing body parts if I hadn’t been having a panic attack, but honestly? I’d still choose him over Arlong.”

Before Ikkaku could ask any questions, there was a firm knock on the door. Grabbing her new purse and slipping into a leopard print, fur-trimmed coat, Nami nodded at her roommate. “Promise me a 9pm rescue?”

“Hmmm, only if I don’t get too caught up in this book,” she teased, cracking it open. “I mean, you did say there was some pretty intense eye contact to look forward to.”

Blushing, she shot back, “You laugh, but chemistry like that can be more intense than any make-out scene.”

“Says the virgin.”

Choosing to ignore the jab, Nami yanked open the door and was met by Law’s cocky smirk. To her surprise, he wore a tailored white suit with a black dress shirt, which brought out that extra little bit of olive in his skin tone. His polished black dress shoes gleamed as brightly as his earrings and the thick, gold chain around his neck. A heady, musky scent tempted Nami’s nose, and she realized Law’d chosen to wear some kind of cologne. Oddly enough, his white fur hat and tattoos didn’t seem as out of place as when he’d dressed up on Tokken Island; perhaps it was because this wasn’t a disguise, or the color was just far more complimentary to his trademark accessories. He looked slick and dangerous, but also at ease—a criminal on a night off.

Damn it, he looked even better than he had at the gala.

Leaning against the doorframe, Law’s grin widened at her perusal. “Do I pass inspection, Nami-ya?” he purred, giving her his own approving once-over.

Gold eyes locked with hazelnut as Nami cocked her hip. “Considering how you haven’t told me where we’re going, it’s a bit hard to judge. For all I know, you’re underdressed.”

“We’re going to a jazz club I frequent, so even if I showed up in jeans, they’d let me in—especially if I have a beautiful woman on my arm.”

“Flatter all you like, Law—you’re not getting out of footing the bill.”

Never breaking eye contact, he gave a little mock bow. “Of course not. A gentleman always treats on the first date.”

“I don’t know you’re more wrong about; that you think this is a date, that there’ll be more than one, or that you’re anything even close to a gentleman.”

“I think I proved myself at the gala. I was on my best behavior, wasn’t I?”

“Maybe in public, but the second we were alone, you went right back to being a bastard.”

A low whistle interrupted their banter, and Nami turned to see Ikkaku wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she meaningfully glanced between them. “You know what, Nami? You may have a point with that ‘intense eye contact’ thing.”

Cheeks inflamed, Nami grabbed Law by the arm and dragged him down the hallway before Ikkaku could say anything else. As she felt the captain’s intense gaze burning into the back of her head, she silently wondered if a free dinner was worth it.

XXX

The outside of the jazz club was far from impressive—in fact, the entrance was a nondescript wooden door against a plain brick wall, its only ornamentation a faded bronze knocker and a number “8” nailed at the top. Nami was positive she would have walked straight past if Law hadn’t led her to it, pausing to quickly rap three times with his knuckles, then four with the knocker.

After a moment, the door opened, and they were greeted by a young woman dressed in a short skirt and tailored red vest. “Captain Trafalgar. So glad you could join us tonight.”

Law gave a lazy, familiar grin as he wrapped his arm around Nami’s waist. “Always a pleasure, Akari. Is my usual booth ready?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, ushering them inside and leading them down a narrow, winding staircase.

As they stepped into the lounge, Nami’s eyes widened in surprise. The bland building façade hid a much more elaborate interior; everything from the bar to the floor to the wall panels were made of mahogany or cherry wood, with ruby red cushions, upholstery, and carpets. Red and gold lamps provided just enough light to see by while giving the place a sensual, mysterious ambiance.

At the far end of the room, low couches formed a semi-circle around the small dance floor in front of the stage, where various instruments and music stands awaited performers. Currently, the stage’s sole occupant was an older gentleman playing a soothing tune on the piano. There were a few larger tables scattered about, but most of the seating appeared to be small booths in the walls, their openings framed by red velvet curtains. Several were occupied by canoodling couples, and it didn’t escape Nami’s notice that a few even had the curtains drawn.

Akrai led them to an empty booth, and Law graciously helped Nami out of her coat, handing it to their hostess to hang up before sliding comfortably into his seat.

“Wow,” Nami said, taking it all in. Their seating arrangement was cozy but not claustrophobic, the velvet cushions that padded the crescent bench wonderfully plush. A gold lamp hung above the round table, allowing her to more easily peruse the embossed menu. Appetizers ranged from shrimp cocktail to deviled quail eggs, while entrees featured grilled seafood, roast duck, and steak. The drink list was extensive with an assortment of sparkling wines, cocktails, hard liquor, and even absinthe.

“I figured you’d approve,” Law replied smugly, lounging back in his seat. “And I told you I wasn’t underdressed.”

“I guess not. How’d you hear about this place?”

“It’s an establishment that first started in the North Blue—Prohibition Island decided it wanted to outlaw alcohol, among other ‘sinful’ things. The club’s owner was an entrepreneur from the West Blue, so she knew a thing or two about setting up businesses under the government’s nose. The original club became successful enough to branch out to other islands, and eventually made its way down the Grand Line.”

“I wouldn’t expect Grimm to ban alcohol,” Nami replied, brow furrowing in confusion. An archipelago that catered to pirates and other scum, which had a thriving black market and a brothel on every corner, but outlawed alcohol? The very idea was baffling.

Head shaking, Law chuckled, “Oh, it doesn’t, but Haiko-ya felt the atmosphere suited the clandestine aesthetic. This just happens to be a place where you can get quality booze and not worry about someone spiking your drink. She’s a criminal, but she has standards far higher than most of the island’s establishments.”

“You sound like you know her personally.”

He shrugged but gave a mysterious smile. “She’s Kimo-ya’s wife, actually. Considering all the business I do with her husband, she was happy to give me a lifetime VIP membership.”

A wave of paranoia sent a shiver down Nami’s spine. “What if she sells us out to Jinzo?”

“She won’t. She hates the man’s guts to an impressive extent. Hell, if she’s here tonight, she’ll probably give you special perks for ending up on his shit list.”

By that point, a young man in a red satin waistcoat appeared, smiling at the pair pleasantly. “Welcome back to Ruby 8, Captain Trafalgar. My name is Hansuke, and it’s my pleasure to serve you tonight. What can I get you to drink?” he asked, flipping open his notepad.

“I’ll have a neat whiskey,” Law said easily.

“A Sour Sunrise for me, please,” Nami said, pleased to find an orange juice-based cocktail. She flashed Law a catlike grin as she added, “And a bottle of your best champagne.”

“One glass or two?” the waiter asked, glancing at Law for confirmation.

“Two,” Law replied, smirking at Nami. “In fact, make sure there’s another bottle ready for when we finish the first one. We’re celebrating, after all, and I intend on giving my woman an unforgettable evening.”

“I’m not your woman,” she growled, but was ignored by both men.

“Of course, Captain Trafalgar,” Hansuke said with an eager nod. Men looking to impress were men who spent a lot of money, and if he did well, he might just earn himself a hefty tip. “Are you ready to order your meals as well, or do you need more time?”

“I know what I want,” said Law, barely glancing at the menu. “I’ll take the grilled salmon with the house salad.”

“I’ll have the orange duck, and can we also get a basket of rolls for the table, please?” Nami asked the waiter sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes for extra measure.

The young man nervously glanced between her and the scowling Supernova, clearly debating which one was better to please.

“I…let me check with the chef—I think he said something about running out,” he squeaked out before sprinting off.

“That was cruel of you, Nami-ya,” Law rumbled, fixing her with an annoyed glare, though sadistic humor twinkled in his eyes. “I told you, I’m a regular here. They know I despise bread and will decapitate anyone stupid enough to bring it to my table.”

With a huff, she crossed her long legs and flipped her hair haughtily. “Killing a waiter isn’t a great way to impress a girl and will definitely get you banned from any self-respecting restaurant—VIP or not.”

“I wouldn’t kill him—you forget, my powers allow me to cut a man to pieces and still keep him alive.”

“You should seriously still be banned.”

“They’ve served far worse patrons than me, and they know I’ll be on my best behavior and fill their pockets with plenty of belli so long as they don’t intentionally piss me off.” Lips turning up in an amused grin, he continued, “I’d say it’s a lesson you could stand to learn, sweetheart, but half the time I find your petty acts of defiance charming.”

“Does that include the sunburn I gave you?”

“No, though I did enjoy everything you did to distract me from it.”

The waiter returned to their booth with their drinks and a small tray of assorted meat and cheeses, smiling at Nami apologetically even as a drop of sweat trickled down his face. “I’m so sorry, miss, but it seems we’re out of bread this evening. Not so much as a crumb can be found. Please accept this complimentary charcuterie board with the house’s sincerest apologies.”

Annoying as it was that Law had the staff wrapped around his finger, she took pity on the poor man and gave an understanding smile. If the Surgeon of Death really was a regular at this place, she couldn’t blame him for not going along with her game. “Oh, this is just lovely! Thank you so much!”

Hansuke’s relief was palatable as he set down the tray and their drinks before running off to fetch the champagne.

“See? It’s things like this that keep me from getting too mad at you,” Law chuckled, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. “I haven’t gotten a free appetizer since that time a new waiter insisted I’d ordered breadcrumbs on my salmon.”

“So, you tolerate me so long as I get you free stuff?” Nami quipped, taking a dainty bite of a slice of ham. It had a surprising fruity note and practically melted in her mouth. She’d have to tell Sanji about it. Hell, even Luffy might appreciate it, assuming he took the time to chew.

She swallowed a bit more harshly than she’d intended when Law leaned across the table, long fingers lightly stroking her elbow as he murmured, “I put up with your antics so long as you make it worth my while, Nami-ya. Keep that in mind next time you’re tempted to pull one of your little pranks.”

Despite pulling his hand away to pick up his drink, Nami could still feel tingling sparks dance across her skin. It really was ridiculous how a brush of his hand invoked that reaction. She was supposed to be more composed than that—a wily thief that didn’t mix business with pleasure—but while his overt come-ons could be annoying, his subtle touches and inviting glances still managed to tempt her. “Fine, but the fact that you’re willing to literally take someone’s head off over bread is way more childish than my ‘little pranks’,” she grumbled into her cocktail.

Whether Law heard her snarky comment or not, their conversation was briefly interrupted as the waiter appeared with the champagne, popping the cork and carefully pouring the bubbly liquid into a pair of elegant crystal flutes. “The sous chef has received your order and will of course be making it himself, Captain Trafalgar,” he said. “If you need anything else in the meantime, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks,” he said breezily, sipping his whiskey. “What time is the band scheduled to start up?”

“In less than a half-hour, sir. They’re currently on their dinner break, but I can ask—”

He waved him off. “I’m in no rush, and I’d rather they be at peak condition while performing. I don’t need my evening ruined because one of them fainted onstage from hunger.”

“Of course, sir. Regardless, I’ll inform them you’re in the audience. Anything else?”

“Time alone with my date would be ideal,” he replied in a clipped tone, raising an eyebrow meaningfully.

Nami could see the way the young man shivered at Law’s glare, and he skittered like a mouse back to the kitchen, wisely leaving the bottle behind.

“And you call me cruel,” she stated blandly as she savored another piece of ham.

“I’m all for attentive servers, but the constant sucking up was getting old.” Trying some of the meat for himself, he glanced at her appraisingly. “But enough about him. You’re a far more interesting subject.”

She frowned, brow furrowing suspiciously. “Am I?”

Linking his fingers and leaning his elbows on the table, he smirked. “Of course. Despite being on my ship for nearly three months, you’re still a mystery. A puzzle with so many missing pieces that I can’t yet visualize the total picture.”

“I could say the same about you,” she said, remembering the confusion she felt as he ran off the day before. “We’re both complex people who play their cards close to the chest.”

“That we are, but yesterday proved that a lack of communication between us can be detrimental to our working relationship, not to mention your health. I promise not to pry too much, and you don’t need to give me all the details, but I expect honest answers.”

Much as she wanted to argue, Penguin’s advice stopped her. The first mate was right; everyone had baggage, but how were people supposed to know her bugbears if she didn’t tell them? As worried as she was that a man like Law would be willing to exploit her weaknesses, he also had a point regarding how their communication issues had nearly gotten her killed. Even if it drudged up unpleasant memories, this was a necessary talk for the sake of side-stepping further unpleasantness. “Fine. I’ll open up—just a little—if you will.”

Resting his chin on his knuckles, Law took a minute to mull over his first question. “Tell me, Nami-ya, how’d you get the name ‘Cat Thief’, anyway? Rumor has it it’s been your moniker since well before the World Government issued your bounty.”

Taking a deep breath and a steadying swallow of her Sour Sunrise, she replied, “My…first captain was always comparing me to a kitten. Guess it was his way of praising me despite my species, since he saw humans as the lowest of the low.”

“Odd opinion.”

“Not for a Fishman.”

Leaning back against the plush velvet cushions, Law unlinked his fingers and munched on another piece of cheese. “Ah. A backhanded compliment. Better than a human, but still little more than a pet.”

“That about sums it up,” she said, pushing down the image of Arlong’s patronizing smile. God, some days she’d hated his condescending approval more than his disgusting hatred for her species. It made her feel dirty, being someone that a monster like him could admire.

Law rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. “No wonder you had such an extreme reaction to me calling you ‘kitten’. I’ll try to avoid it in the future. Still odd you’d adopt a feline signature, though.”

Shaking off her former captor’s vindictive smile, Nami shrugged, buying time before replying by nibbling on some cheese, even though she barely tasted it. “Guess it was a little out of spite; I wanted to take the word back and feel like I had just a shred of power. Didn’t really work, but it was still a good nickname for a thief.”

Perhaps he sensed her discomfort, but Law gently nudged the topic towards safer waters. “Fair. Shachi was the one who came up with ‘The Surgeon of Death’. Bit over-the-top, but I like it. Iconic, and definitely strikes fear into the hearts of my enemies.”

“Sounds like something from a comic book,” she scoffed as she finished her cocktail, moving on to the champagne. She knew she wouldn’t get drunk, but the bubbles tickling her palette would be a pleasant way to keep her mind from slipping into the past. Even without the meds in her system driving her towards panic attacks, she knew nothing good could come from dwelling too long on what Arlong had put her through.

“Like I said, it was Shachi’s idea. He was worried the Marines would give me something lame, so he and the crew went out of their way to mention it in every port we stopped in until they had no choice but to put it on my wanted poster.”

“I’m sure Drake had his own suggestions on what to call you.”

Law chuckled smugly, looking far too proud of himself. “Oh, I’m sure he did, but those posters are seen by the general public, so anything he’d propose would have to be censored. It’s probably why Eustass’ moniker is just ‘Captain’; either that or it’s a lame form of overcompensation.” His grin grew even more devious as he added, “First time we met, I deliberately acted like Killer was the captain, just to piss him off.”

Despite herself, Nami had to giggle. She’d only met Eustass Kid briefly, but he’d seemed the type to not take an insult lightly. With the highest bounty of the rookies, he was certainly someone she wouldn’t want to mess with. “You’re an asshole with a death wish, aren’t you?”

Law shrugged, knocking back the rest of his whiskey. The humor in his eyes dimmed. “Perhaps I do, just a little bit. I didn’t expect to live past the age of thirteen.”

“Why?” she asked curiously before she could catch herself. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Face cast in shadow by the brim of his hat, he tersely replied, “I was a sickly child. My father was the best doctor in the providence, but even he couldn’t come up with a cure. Didn’t help that the world believed it was a contagious disease, so we had no outside help. I only survived because of the Ope Ope no Mi.”

“Your father must have been happy about that, at least.”

“He was killed years before I got my hands on it.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Her heart clenched at the thought. A dead parent before the age of thirteen. Wasn’t that a painfully familiar story? “Well, I’m sure he’d still be happy you survived.”

He shrugged again, watching the bubbles in his champagne flute pop to avoid meeting her sympathetic gaze. “He’d be disappointed that I became a pirate instead of following in his footsteps.”

“Maybe, but I think he’d accept it so long as you’re alive and happy. Bellemere was a Marine, but while she wouldn’t approve of her daughter becoming a pirate, she’d support my decision because I’m free and working towards my dream of drawing a map of the world.”

As he finally looked at her, Nami caught Law’s lips briefly twitch upwards. “I suppose we’ll never know, but it’s a pleasant fantasy, at least.” He gave a mock toast. “To the parents who wanted better for us.”

With a wry smile, Nami clinked her glass to his, the pair gulping down the sparkling wine just as their food arrived. Digging into her meal, she appreciated both the delicious flavor of the duck and the blessed break in the heavy conversation eating allowed.

Talking to Law about her past was far different from Luffy. Nojiko had informed her before they left Cocoyashi that her stubborn captain had opted out of hearing her backstory when she’d offered to reveal it. At first, Nami’d been offended—what, had he thought her reasons for betraying the crew and faking Usopp’s death didn’t matter? But then she realized that, even without knowing who Arlong was or what he’d done to her and the villagers, Luffy had still gone after him.

All because that bastard had made his navigator cry.

As they’d sailed for Loguetown afterwards, Nami had pulled Luffy aside one night, sat him down, and told him everything. Not because he needed to know, but because a man like that was someone who deserved to know. Deserved to know the awful things she’d endured and done to survive. Why he’d found her mutilating her shoulder, cutting off that awful tattoo. Why she was so grateful he’d destroyed that room and all of the charts she’d toiled over for eight years. Why his refusal to give up on her had meant the world to the distrustful thief.

For his part, Luffy had listened quietly, occasionally nodding his head to show he was paying attention, an unusually patient and serious expression on his face. When she was finished, he’d clapped her shoulder, gave her that carefree, goofy grin, and simply said, “Now I’m really glad I punched that jerk!”

Law wasn’t like that. While he didn’t pry, he did ask questions, clearly seeking those missing puzzle pieces he spoke of and not taking her answers at face-value. Admittedly, they had been pretty bare-boned, but it highlighted the difference between the two captains—Law sought to understand because he didn’t fully trust her. Luffy didn’t need to understand, because he trusted her from the moment she’d refused to fire a cannonball at him.

Looking at Law’s nearly-finished plate, she had to suppress a giggle as another difference between him and Luffy hit her—his chewing habits might have left something to be desired, but at least he knew not to eat the fish’s skeleton.

Noticing his companion’s attention had returned to him, Law took a sip of champagne as he considered her. “You mentioned your ‘first captain’. I’m assuming this wasn’t Mugiwara?”

Nami sighed, setting down her fork to drink from her own glass, hoping the sharp beverage would wash away the foul taste talking more about Arlong would inevitably bring. “No. Before Luffy, I served as the cartographer for another pirate crew for eight years.” She deliberately didn’t mention she was an officer—it was easier for people to accept she was a prisoner when it didn’t sound like she was in a position of authority. Perhaps that was why Arlong had “promoted” her, even though she had no real power among the Fishmen. “He…his crew invaded my village when I was ten and made everyone pay for the right to live. Bellemere only had enough money to save her own life, or mine and Nojiko’s.”

“And, of course, she sacrificed herself to protect her children.” Law shook his head, and for a moment, Nami swore she saw a wince of pain, but the amber light made it hard to tell. “Eight years…I know captains who recruit kids so they can brainwash them into loyal subordinates, but he killed your mother. I doubt you joined him willingly, after something like that?”

“Believe me, I didn’t,” she growled. Hands shaking slightly, she instinctively grabbed her knife, holding it like the dagger she’d used to fake Usopp’s death and destroy her tattoo. “Working for my mother’s murderer was nothing short of torture. Day and night I drew maps for him until my hands bled, barely allowed to sleep or eat. And all the while he acted like he was doing me a favor, since cartography was what I loved most in the world.”

The word DEATH entered her field of vision as Law covered her trembling hand with his own. The warmth was comfortingly familiar at this point, and she felt her white-knuckled grip on the cutlery slacken. “Don’t worry; I do believe you,” he said softly, catching her gaze with his own. His expression was soft and concerned—similar to the way he’d looked at her last night in the infirmary. “You’ve shown yourself to be loyal to those you care about, and we’ve all done awful, painful things for the sake of survival. And I have to say, you may actually have a stronger will than me—I doubt I would have lasted a week serving the captain who murdered someone I held dear.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathing deeply, willing herself to calm down. Law’s thumb rubbing little circles across her knuckles was surprisingly helpful with that. It gave her something to focus on; to ground herself instead of letting the memories take over. Rough as the callouses from his swordsmanship and hard life at sea were, they were still so much smoother than the sandpaper-like skin of a shark Fishman. So blessedly human. “I guess…I guess you were right, though; if you’re not strong enough to protect yourself, you’re the property of someone who was strong enough to claim you.”

“I know I’m right, but I wish I weren’t. I’m assuming this first captain of yours has something to do with your dislike of my uniform?”

“You could say that.” She sighed, jerking her chin towards her left shoulder, the faint scars beneath her swirling tattoo barely visible in the dim light, but neither had to see them to know they were there. “One of the first things he did was have me branded with his Jolly Roger to make sure I couldn’t run off. So the whole world would know I was his property.”

Much like Penguin, Nami could see the dots connecting in Law’s mind. He’d recognized right away that the scars were self-inflicted, but now that he knew what had once been in their place, he could deduct why she’d caused herself such grievous harm. She felt his fingers tighten around her own, first in anger, before easing into a comforting squeeze. With forced calm, he said, “Considering how often Fishmen and Mermaids are sold as slaves, it was probably just as much a petty form of revenge. Still, I guess that explains your objection.” Frowning, he rubbed his forehead beneath his hat with his free hand. “Look, I can’t promise you’ll never have to wear the uniform again. Like it or not, it really is the easiest way to keep you safe.”

Deep down, she appreciated his apology and understanding, even as she inwardly groaned at the thought of wearing the beige jumpsuit. “It also made me a target,” she argued. “Drake wouldn’t have looked twice at me if I’d been in my normal clothes.”

“Please, Drake-ya reads the news and would have gone after you regardless of what you were wearing. He’s smart enough to recognize a dangerous alliance when he sees one, or at least an opportunity to get a leg up. Pitiful as your bounty is, getting his hands on a lone Straw Hat, especially one who was able to rob a former Marine Intelligence officer’s mansion, would be quite tempting.” A wide, predatory grin stretched across his face as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he leered at her. “Though, personally, I think he was jealous that I’d found a new redhead to play with.”

Nami snorted, the tension in her back loosening. Creepy as he was, Law was smart, steering the conversation away from the past and the world’s speculation on their partnership to something they could casually fight about. “Are you kidding? I think he was relieved; with me around, he doesn’t have to deal with you bothering him anymore.”

“If that were the case, he wouldn’t have tried to abduct you.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, he was trying to ‘rescue’ me; Drake’s a real gentleman, unlike you,” she quipped, taking a condescending sip of her drink.

“Oh, yes, a real gentleman who kidnaps and threatens to sell off unwilling women,” Law replied sarcastically.

“Better than a pervert who makes a girl wear an ugly uniform to indulge his weird sexual fetish.”

“…my what now?”

Confident that she’d just played a winning hand, she leaned forward, bending her chest slightly over the table. “Please, I see right through your little act. Sure, you flirt and tease, but only if I’m fully dressed.” The tip of a manicured finger teasingly traced along the swell of her cleavage. “When I’m wearing next to nothing, you show no interest in my incredibly sexy body. Given your proclivities, I’m surprised you even helped me out of my coat.”

Blinking owlishly, Law replied, “I’m sorry, you think I’m attracted to you…when you’re wearing more clothes?”

“Yeah!” she insisted, not caring for his disbelieving tone.

He covered his face with one large, tattooed hand, but through his splayed fingers Nami could still see yellow eyes light up with amusement. As she glared, they only shone brighter, and his shoulders slowly began to shake. Gradually, low chuckles slipped from his lips, finally morphing into full-on laughter, his palm failing to muffle the sound.

An irritated vein throbbed in Nami’s forehead as Law continued to cackle. “Don’t think you can fool me by treating this like a joke! You have a clothing kink! During my initial check-up, you didn’t give a damn that I was strutting around in my underwear. At the mansion, you were all over me when I was in that gown, but once it’s off, woosh, I’m as attractive as a lamp! Even after the mission, you barely even acknowledged what a hot piece of ass I am. Then you insist I wear that freaking jumpsuit…”

“Nami-ya,” he chortled as his hand dropped back to the table, managing to calm down enough during her rant to formulate a reply, “I don’t have a clothing kink—I’m just good at compartmentalizing and know there’s a time and place. When we were in the infirmary, not only was I acting as your doctor, but it was clear you were too nervous to be receptive to any blatant advances. As for the mansion, yes you looked absolutely delicious in that bodysuit, but we were there to do a job; there was simply no time to indulge myself. And when I treated your wounds,” his smile fell a bit, “you’d just been through a potentially traumatizing event. You were flinching just from me touching your calf. I know I can be an asshole, but did you really expect me to come onto you when you were acting like I was Harpin?”

For a moment, Nami just sat there, jaw hanging uselessly as she realized just how far off her theory had been, and most importantly, just how badly she’d managed to embarrass herself. Her own vanity had blinded her to the obvious answer. She could justify it with the fact that most of the guys she knew were either perverts or barely acknowledged that she was a woman, so she wasn’t used to a man who could both flirt and control himself, but she wouldn’t lie to herself.

“So…the uniform isn’t some weird sexual thing?” she asked, trying to cover her humiliation by finishing her glass of champagne. Times like these made her really wish she could get drunk; it would be the perfect excuse for her ridiculous accusation.

“I mean, I won’t lie and say I don’t like you in it, but it really is just for your own protection.” Law’s returning grin was smoldering and devilish as he purred, “I’m curious, though, about what bothered you more; that I might have a strange fetish for fully-clothed women, or that I wasn’t giving your incredibly sexy body the attention you felt it deserved?”

“I…”

He shuffled closer, sliding across the booth to close the distance between them, resting his right arm across the back of her seat and teasingly trailing the fingers of his left land along the soft skin of her jaw to cup her chin. “Because if it’s the latter, I’m happy to show you just how much I appreciate it when you run around my ship in crop tops and booty shorts.”

Nami blushed, realizing she’d played directly into his hands.

“You know, one of the reasons I like redheads so much is how vibrantly they blush,” he chuckled, leaning down so his breath danced across her sensitive neck and ear. The way she’d pinned her hair meant she had no shield from it, and she shivered at the sensation. “It’s so cute, watching the capillaries that carry your blood widen as adrenaline rushes through you. No matter how good a person’s poker face is, the body doesn’t lie. Lets me know my target’s receptive to my flirting, even when they stubbornly refuse to admit it.”

“You base it all on a blush?” she countered, defiantly poking him in the chest. “People blush in anger and embarrassment. You can’t assume someone wants you just because their face gets a little red.”

Like a leopard sizing up his prey, Law loomed above her, gaze analytical and hungry as he studied her. “No, you’re right; good thing, as a doctor, I know all the other physical indicators of arousal.” Tilting her head up, he stated, “Dilated pupils.”

His hand dropped from her chin to carefully brush along the flesh of her arm. “Goosebumps.”

Long fingers encircled her wrist, thumb resting over her pulse. “Increased heartrate.”

Honey eyes dropped to Nami’s mouth as the tip of her pink tongue peeked out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. “Unconsciously licking one’s lips.”

Releasing her wrist, Law’s touch traveled back up her arm to gently stroke the ends of her mikan hair. “And the fact that you haven’t even tried to move or push me away. In fact, I’d say you’re leaning into my touch.”

Nami’s face warmed further as she realized he was right. Mentally she berated herself, but deep down, she was beginning to accept that, even if she refused to act on it for pride and professionalism’s sake, she was slightly addicted to his attentions. She was never short on male admirers, but Law challenged her, the push-and-pull giving her a thrill the way heart-eyed fools like Sanji failed to. There was something about Law that drew her in like a moth to a flame—she knew it was fatal to get too close, but damn it, she couldn’t help but dance with danger.

Winding a short, orange lock of hair around a long finger, Law declared confidently, “All this says you find me sexually attractive.”

Before she could confirm or deny this claim, an excited voice bellowed, “As I live and breathe, Trafalgar Law graces us with his exalted presence once again!”

Said captain’s seductive grin shifted into his trademark smirk as he turned to greet the newcomer. “Are you living and breathing, Hiroshi-ya?”

The man chuckled, grabbing Law’s hand in a firm shake. Beneath a silver fedora his graying hair was cut close to his scalp. His skin was dark but sported prominent laugh-lines, a pair of oval sunglasses rested on the end of his large nose, and his brilliant grin could have replaced one of the stage’s spotlights. “If I’m not, you’d probably know before I did, doc.”

“Because I’m that good, or because you’d be too focused on performing to realize you’d dropped dead?”

The two shared a laugh before the man turned to introduce himself to Nami. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting a moment, here, darlin’, but I simply had to come over and say hello. The name’s ‘Devil’s Fingers’ Hiroshi, and your boy Law here is one of my favorite patrons. Tips well, and he saved my life.”

“I only fixed your hands.”

“Considerin’ how they’d been crushed beyond recognition and I need those to make a living, I think that counts.”

Nami gaped in shock as Hiroshi held up his hands, showing that while they were clearly in working order, they were littered with tiny surgical scars.

Law shrugged, though he seemed pleased with the praise. “It was a fun operation—not every day you get to remove someone’s finger bones one-by one to rebuild your favorite musician’s hands.”

“You put someone else’s bones into him?” Nami asked the surgeon, astounded.

“Of course,” Law said casually. “His own were absolutely pulverized, so a transplant was necessary if he ever wanted to play the saxophone again.”

Part of her was horrified at the mental image, but beneath that, something niggled at her. This was the second time she’d heard someone sing Law’s praises as a legitimate doctor, and unlike Reginald, Hiroshi seemed perfectly aware of the Surgeon of Death’s criminal activities and sadistic reputation. What reason did Law have for helping this man? Was it just because he liked his music?

“Well, I’d best get ready for the show, and I’m sure you want some more alone time with your girl, eh, Law?” Hiroshi teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’d certainly appreciate a little mood music,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few large bills.

“You got it,” the sax player sniggered, winking at Nami. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’ll be stroking your boy’s ego a bit. After the surgery, I wrote a little ditty about him as thanks, and it’s become pretty popular with the crowd. Plus, it’s the only time Oscar lets me take over as the lead singer.”

“Law strokes his own ego plenty,” Nami groused, eyes rolling heavenward. “And if you want to write about him, go for his flaws; there’s enough of those to fill an opera.”

“Oooo, she’s feisty! Have fun with that, doc!” he chuckled as he strolled off towards the stage.

“I plan to,” Law purred, turning back towards the woman beside him. “I just can’t resist a fiery ginger.”

“Speaking of,” Nami deflected, hoping to keep the conversation from returning to their original topic, “you and Drake, huh?”

He chuckled at her obvious ploy but proceeded to go along with it. “Ah, one of my favorite playmates. What do you want to know?”

“I mean, let’s start with how the hell that happened?”

“You mean, how did the golden boy of the Navy find himself thoroughly seduced by the North Blue’s most notorious rookie pirate?”

“Yeah. Mainly because Drake seems smart enough not to fall for your sleazy tricks. Or at the very least, composed enough to ignore them until you lose interest.”

Refreshing their glasses of champagne, he gave a wolfish smile. “So you’d think, but Drake-ya’s got an instinctual, animalistic side that’s just so much fun to rile up. Besides that, I observed his physical reactions whenever we crossed paths, and wouldn’t you know it? They were damningly similar to yours.”

Picking at the remains of the charcuterie board, she munched on a piece of cheese to keep her body’s natural responses under control. Keep it together, she thought stubbornly. Even if I did mix business with pleasure, there’s no way I’m letting him win. “Pretty sure the heat of battle elicits similar responses. I think you were just looking for clues that weren’t there in a desperate attempt justify a hopeless crush.”

Her sass received a sharp laugh in reply. Handing Nami her glass, Law brushed the tips of his fingers over hers as he stated, “Maybe, but my theory was undeniably proven when Penguin, Ikkaku and I snuck onto his ship and found him moaning my name while jerking off in the shower.”

Nami nearly choked on her drink, the bubbly wine burning as it tried to make its way up her nose. No wonder Penguin wanted to repress that, she thought, mortified for the poor first mate. She’d probably feel the same way if she’d overheard someone masturbating to the thought of Luffy. “Oh my god.”

“You should have heard the things he was saying—fuck, harder Law! Put that dirty mouth to good use, you bastard!” Law moaned in her ear, mimicking his rival’s deep, guttural growl.

“M-maybe he had a hard-on for justice. You know, the actual law,” she argued weakly. She didn’t even really know why she bothered—it was clear he’d been right, considering how he and Drake had fucked at least once, but she just felt a need to try to knock him down a few pegs and keep his ego in check.

“Mmm, do you really believe that?” he hummed, honey eyes regarding her with amusement as he took a sip of his drink. “I think you’re just looking for clues that aren’t there in a desperate attempt to justify your need to be contrary.”

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, downing her drink and pouring the last of the bottle into her glass. “Fine, so Drake was utterly repressed from his time in the Navy and you were able to use that to get him into bed.” A thought came to her, and she raised her eyebrow curiously. “Wait, he didn’t leave the Marines because he fell in love with you or something, right?” That…would be kind of tragic, actually. Despite the sexual tension, the two Supernova hadn’t seemed to be on the friendliest of terms, so if Drake had defected for Law only for their relationship to sour…

“God, no,” he laughed, finishing off his own glass of champagne. “Drake-ya was dishonorably discharged not long after he massacred a village rumored to be sheltering pirates. He may seem honorable and composed, and I’ll admit he usually tried to avoid senseless cruelty, but when situations called for violence, he was cold-blooded and bloodthirsty. I think his family history also played a role; his father had defected and turned pirate, so I imagine there was a bit of a glass ceiling Drake-ya knew he’d never overcome.”

“And you know this how?”

“Pillow talk.”

Nami mulled his words over carefully. “Was Drake close to his father?”

“From what he told me while completely shitfaced, Diez Barrels had once been a Marine Drake-ya wanted to emulate, but when he switched sides, he was nothing short of an abusive monster.”

Pity welled up in Nami’s heart at the implications. “Poor guy.”

“You do remember this is the same man who tried to kidnap you, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it must not have sucked for him; looking up to someone, wanting to be just like them, only to be let down in spectacular fashion.”

For a brief moment, Law tilted his head, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his face, but his voice was tight as he replied, “Enough about Drake-ya.” Clearing his throat, he turned to catch their waiter’s eye, pointing to the empty bottle of champagne. When his gaze returned to Nami, his tone was back to normal. “I’m getting a little jealous with all this talk about another man.”

She frowned. Nami could tell she’d hit a bit close to home there. Had Law once looked up to someone? Part of her wanted to pry; the man was uncharted waters, and the cartographer in her itched to discover his secrets and map them out.

But more than anyone, she respected wanting to keep a painful history private. “Then what do you want to talk about? Because if you want any more of my past, you’re going to need to buy me more than another bottle of champagne,” she replied before knocking back the final sip.

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You drank quite a bit of that, Nami-ya, and yet I’m not noticing any signs of inebriation. It seems Mugiwara wasn’t exaggerating when he bragged about your tolerance.”

“Please, this is nothing—Zoro and I could drink whole taverns dry and still walk a straight line. Hell, it was one of my favorite ways to swindle pirates; get in good with the crew, outdrink them, then swipe their treasure while they were all passed out.”

“Interesting. You may be physically weak, but your liver sounds formidable.”

The lights, dimmed, and Nami glanced around curiously. Law chuckled, drawing her closer and pointing towards the stage. “Looks like the show’s about to start,” he murmured in her ear as he settled in, the arm around her waist telling her that she wasn’t moving for at least the duration of the song.

The band played a low, steady beat as a handsome man in a white silk blazer escorted a curvaceous woman with bold red hair wearing a silver dress onto the stage, the spotlights hitting the sequins in a way that nearly distracted from the daring slit and sexy black garters underneath. Turning her back to the crowd, she swayed her hips to the rhythm as the man took the microphone.

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he drawled, tossing the crowd a smirk that could give Law’s a run for its money. “We’ve got a great night in store for you. I see a lot of new faces out there—as well as some familiar ones—so I’m not gonna yammer on too long. I want you to sit back, enjoy the service, the scenery, but most of all, enjoy the show.”

As he finished, he signaled to the band, who immediately transitioned into a smooth but lively tune, Hiroshi’s saxophone front-and-center, and the red-haired woman turned around, sensually dancing with the emcee as he began to sing.

It ain’t no big thing to wait for the bell to ring It ain’t no big thing The toll of the bell

Aggravated, spare for days I troll downtown the red-light place

Jump up bubble up - what’s in store? Love is the drug and I need to score

Enthralled, Nami watched as the pair performed, the song turning into a duet as they moved, the woman’s low, husky voice sending a thrill down her back. Or perhaps it was Law’s fingers stroking idly along her side—far from his groping in the alley, but the light touch was just as hot. Thighs clenched as the male singer bent the woman over suggestively, and she hoped Law was too focused on the show to notice her aroused blush. She didn’t want to imagine herself and the Supernova next to her in their place, but with the woman’s red hair and the man’s cocky smirk, it was really difficult not to picture the sensual scene the song suggested—her and Law stumbling around a dark room, locked in a passionate embrace, until finally they made it to the bed…

God, she joked about Drake being repressed to give in to an asshole like Law, but clearly, she was just as pent-up.

When the song ended, Nami let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, quickly going for her refilled champagne, gulping it down to wet her suddenly dry mouth. She hadn’t even realized Hansuke had refreshed their drinks as she hadn’t been able to pry her eyes from the stage, too lost in the song and her fantasy.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Law smirking in an all-too-knowing manner, but before he could comment, they were once more interrupted, only this time by the gorgeous singer who had left the stage to visit their table.

“Captain Trafalgar,” the red-haired woman purred, voice husky with an edge of a rough accent that somehow made her even more glamourous, “I heard you were back in town.”

“Excellent opening act, Haiko-ya, as usual,” Law replied, standing up to gallantly kiss her hand. “Oscar may be your prized vocalist, but everyone knows you’re the real star up there.”

“You charmer. Still sure you don’t want to quit piracy and come work for me?” she asked with an inviting smile. “I could use a man of your talents.”

“I’m sure you could, but as much as I like this club, staying in one place just doesn’t appeal to me. I like to wander, you know.”

“Pity, but you can’t blame a woman for trying. After all, who wouldn’t want a skilled doctor and enforcer on her payroll? Especially with my husband’s…accident,” she replied, tone suddenly going sour.

“I assume Jinzo’s challenging your claim to Kimo-ya’s share of the business?”

“Oh, he’s doing more than that—he’s trying to compete against my business. Opening his own club and even a few brothels so he can steal my clientele—rumor has it that’s why he’s being so stingy with his black market clients. His recent investments have put him in the red, and he he’s going to have to do something drastic to recoup the cost.”

For a brief moment Law frowned, though his lips soon turned back up into his calculating, sadistic grin. “Until then, his broken promises could earn him quite a few enemies.”

“Oh yes. I hear X Drake in particular was extremely pissed that Jinzo didn’t have his money today.”

“He was even more so when I told him that there’s no way he’d planned on paying his asking price.”

Haiko tsked. “Oh dear. It would be such a shame if some frustrated client were to cross Jinzo’s path before his latest business venture can properly take off.”

Behind them, Nami swallowed audibly, catching onto their intentions. Law glanced at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to Haiko. “Now’s not a great time to talk business, but perhaps we could continue our chat after the show. Jinzo’s trying to screw over a lot of treacherous people, myself included, and while I’m not interested in your job offer, I’d be happy to negotiate a deal that could benefit us both greatly.”

Her blood red lips curled upwards, eyes alight with interest. “Meet me in my office at nine-thirty sharp—it would be a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Before you go, I want to introduce you to my date,” he drawled, gently tugging Nami out of her seat. “Haiko-ya, this is Cat Thief Nami.”

“Ah, the woman who swindled Jinzo out of a lot of money,” the businesswoman replied, pleased smile fixated on the younger woman as she shook her hand.

“Does everybody know about that?” Nami squeaked.

“Oh, darling, it was the best piece of news I’ve heard all day. And not everyone knows—yet. I just happen to have a few eyes and ears stationed close to him so he doesn’t try to do to me what he did to my darling Kimo. I may not be able to prove he was involved, but it never hurts to be ready for anything.”

“Very true,” Law agreed. “So, I’ll see you at nine-thirty?”

Haiko blew him a kiss as she sauntered off. “Absolutely. And as thanks for embarrassing that piece of shit, your drinks are on me tonight. Keep it up, Miss Cat Thief, and you might just earn a VIP membership here, too.”

Nami couldn’t keep herself from staring as the woman left. Beautiful and glamourous though she was, she totally believed Haiko was the sort who would slit a man’s throat with a smile. She had a dangerous aura about her, and given how casually she and Law spoke, Nami was certain an ill wind was blowing.

“You two are going to do something to Jinzo, aren’t you?” she asked, sweat prickling at the back of her neck. She had no sympathy for the man, but she hoped whatever Law was planning didn’t involve her; the last thing she wanted was to get caught in the middle of an underworld power struggle.

“Mmmm, don’t worry your pretty little head over that, sweetheart,” Law purred as he tugged her towards the stage. His eyes were half-lidded and inviting, and Nami’s breath caught in her throat as her heart stuttered. Maybe it was just the aftereffects of Haiko’s performance, but the heat between her legs begged her not to resist him. “Ikkaku’s due to steal you away from me soon, so I’m not wasting another second.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

One hand clasped hers as the other wrapped around her lower back. “It dawned on me that, with how busy you were pick-pocketing rich assholes at the gala, I never got a dance with you. We’re going to remedy that. And wouldn’t you know it?” he rasped, leaning in so close his lips ever-so-slightly brushed her ear. “They’re about to play my song.”

Though initially thrown by his sudden change of tone and forwardness, Nami quickly realized from the feeling of hard wood beneath their feet that he’d led them onto the dancefloor. Before she could protest or break away, Hiroshi noticed them, tossing a wink and pointing them out to the male singer from earlier. Oscar quietly chuckled as he handed over the microphone, even giving a playful bow before stepping over to a xylophone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are graced with the presence of the man who inspired this next song, the one and only Dr. Heart Stealer!”

As the music began, Law swept her into a dance, easily leading her in time to the lively beat.

Why is everyone so impatient? Recklessly jumping into things Crushing backstabbing

To achieve your goal Sometimes you just need to dive deep, hide yourself Scan the situation, that’s all

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Look into the mirror and see Are you who you really are? Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Shall I steal what’s most precious to you?

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once you’re addicted, you can never escape…

As Hiroshi crooned the lyrics, Nami forced herself to focus on keeping pace with Law, and not on the surprising suggestiveness of the lyrics or the heat of the doctor’s palm on her exposed back. There were mere inches between them—enough space to properly move, but still so close that their breaths and body heat mingled. He was a surprisingly good dancer, too, gently guiding her across the polished floor in time to the beat, giving the occasional spin and dip, all while those golden, hungry eyes never left hers.

If something’s important, hide it away Once you shout about it out loud It’s just too naive, so sickening

Waiting is not a futile thing With enough clinical data You won’t make a mistake, there’ll be no trouble

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM It’ll be over once your space’s safety is breached Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Because I know what’s most precious to you

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once I set my target, I’ll definitely get it

Don’t run away, come join me Show me how you dance

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Look into the mirror and see Are you who you really are? Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Shall I steal what’s most precious to you?

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once you’re addicted, you can never escape…

At last the song came to an end, and while Nami wanted to blame her breathlessness on the dancing, she knew at least a little of it had to do with the way Law was looking at her. His intense stare sizzled her skin pleasantly, and she had no choice but to admit that, as much as she wanted to fight it, the song was right.

If she let herself get addicted to him, she’d never escape.

[bookandcranny]

Stone Heart Gambit

Part 1 - Chapter 5

It starts with clothes. Wearing rags might have worked for Adami when he was made of stone, but not so much now that he’s walking around. Finding something that would fit his broad, inhuman frame was a challenge, but eventually Soso pins down an online seller who stocks a full range of extra-large sizes and provides fast delivery. Adamantius had looked so confused at the offering, and it occurred to Soso suddenly that he probably wasn’t someone who was used to getting gifts. Thus, since then she’d begun bringing new things with her every visit, to get him accustomed.

It’s little things. Today Nessa, awake and active before nightfall for the first time that Soso has ever seen, indulgently leads her through a beginner’s lesson in baking. It had seemed like a good practical gift, since Surehouser only cooked when he fancied the diversion. There was always plenty of food in his home, but only when he bothered to remember that there should be. Something to do with the passively magical nature of the place, he said, though as always the simple answer was wrapped in a layer of riddles and vaguery.

The result is a batch of cookies so hard and dry that one bite has Nessa diving for the milk. Still, she thinks, not terrible for her first try, and Adami will probably be happy with literally anything she brings him.

The outside of the library is looking well restored from Halloween’s havoc, with the exception of the conspicuously missing statue, although the interior is more chaotic than ever before. After a brief investigation, the events of that night have been officially written off as a large-scale prank. It eases Soso’s nerves a little, knowing that she isn’t about to be interrogated at any given moment, but doesn’t solve the main problem. No amount of new clothes or socialization is going to make Adami able to walk the streets freely looking like he does, and harboring him at the library will only work for so long. Not long at all, if he can’t learn to play nice with his host. The fact that they haven’t been caught yet feels like a miracle.

“Nothing so dramatic,” Surehouser says. “Humans are remarkably good at looking the other way when the truth is inconvenient to them. The unseen bleeds into your world more than you realize. This spot, Ensfield- although it didn’t have a name much less a town at the time- rests on what’s essentially a faultline of wild magic, magic that’s not attached to or being used by anyone. It’s a powerful point of contact between the two worlds. One of a handful scattered all over the globe.”

He had explained some of it to her, though of course not as much as she’d like. You could only keep the human world so distant from its shadow without having some bleed-through. Underhill and Overhill were in many ways mirror images of another, hanging in a precarious balance. In order to keep that balance in check, there were a lot of rules about the way faefolk were to conduct themselves while in Overhill, and breaking them could be met with consequences ranging from a slap on the wrist to being banished from Underhill altogether. The general consensus, it seemed, was that the human’s domain was a fun place to visit but not one anyone wished to stay in.

Soso, who has no basis for comparison, wonders if she should be offended.

“So, out of curiosity,” she says. “Just how much trouble would you be in if your bosses found out about big boy over here?”

He snorts. She likes the man but he has the uncanny ability to make her feel like an idiot whenever she opens her mouth about anything fae-wise. “You assume you’d be exempt.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Uncertainty creeps into her tone. “I mean, this is sort of my turf. Because human?”

“It does muddy things,” he admits. “I can’t say I know what they’d do.”

“Give me a best and worst case scenario.”

“Best case, I lose my position and standing and become the laughing stock of my court for failing a task that was essentially ‘make sure this rock doesn’t move’. Worst case, the library gets a few new lawn ornaments.”

She grimaces. Yeah, that’s pretty bad.

Adamantius comes in from the other room and makes a face that she recognizes as his version of a smile. The mouthful of teeth and tusks don’t lend themselves well to the expression, but the nuances between happy monster and angry monster and bored monster are ones she’s coming to appreciate.

“Lady Willoughby, I was not aware it was you. I’ve been instructed to stay hidden at the sound of the door,” he says. “Then I remembered that I’m not bound to the commands of faeries.”

Surehouser rolls his eyes theatrically and takes a bite of a proffered cookie, wincing at the crunch. “Have some, abomination. Your jaws are probably much more suited.”

Soso’s face heats. They aren’t that bad, are they? Adamantius takes two before she can stop him, rumbling with contentment as he chews, and she wonders if it’s for her sake. He can be remarkably astute when he wants to be.

“You could maybe be a teensy bit more careful about being spotted.” She gestures around her. The quirky but overall neat hideaway in the woods Soso knew has been growing more disorganized by the day. Apparently Adami has been trying to catch up his limited knowledge of modern-day Overhill by tearing through the library’s main collection. She can surmise by the look of the place that his attention span is even more erratic than her own. She can nearly pinpoint the exact moment Surehouser must have given up. “Like, just in case anybody else ever stops by.”

“Let them come. I don’t fear any man.”

“Well, I personally fear lots of men.”

Adami clenches one oversized fist. “I would not let them harm you.”

And that instant leap to violence in my defense is a big part of why. Soso’s trying to think of a gentle way to explain this, when there’s the sound of knock on the door. Surehouser leaps up and ushers him out of the room, much to his annoyance, just as the door cracks open.

“Oh hey, I wasn’t sure you guys were open,” says the visitor. It’s a man, still young but old enough that, upon sighting Soso, his face slips into that condescending smile that every man over twenty-five seems to default to around her. Her height and the softness of her features often paints her as younger than she is. She’ll be getting carded for another ten years at least.

“Yep, the librarian’s just, uh, taking a break.”

“I see. And you’re…?”

“Ah, Soso. I’m… an intern?” She resists the urge to slap herself and appends, “I’m new, sorry.”

She’s relieved that the visitor doesn’t call her bluff. She can feign confidence with the best of them but it doesn’t help matters that this guy is uncannily good looking. He’s dressed like he’s just come from an office job, the crisp white sleeves of his button=up rolled to the elbows and his sandy brown hair ruffled in a way that seems somehow calculated and effortless all at once.

“Nice to meet you, miss intern,” he grins. “Can you help me out with something? See, I’m a reporter doing a story on an incident that was reported in the area a few nights ago. You know what I’m talking about?”

Soso stiffens. “Oh yeah, those crazy kids and their pranks. I hate to ruin your scoop but there really isn’t anything to tell about it.”

The man stalks towards her, his smile never wavering. “Really? Because what I heard was that the culprit still hasn’t been caught.” He gives her a casual once-over. “Culprit, or culprits.”

The insinuation irks her. “What makes you think you’re going to find anything about it here?”

He shrugs. “Sources tell me this library is a common target for ‘pranks’ like these. Maybe you saw something?”

“We were closed that night,” she bites out. Something about this reporter’s cocky attitude sets her on edge.

“Maybe I should talk to your boss. He lives out of this same building, right? Anthony Surehouser?”

Her frown deepens. A lucky guess? An attempt to bluff his way in? That itself seems odd though. Who puts this much effort into sleuthing out a story about a supposed prank on a night notorious for stupid pranks? Something isn’t adding up.

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t, but neither did you.”

“I told you, my name is Soso.”

That actually throws him for a second. “Oh that’s your name. I thought you just had a stutter. My fault.” He puts out his hand. “Jamison D’Leon. Sorry, as a kid my grandma always told me never to give my name to someone who wouldn’t give me theirs first.”

“It’s okay. It’s an unusual name, I know.”

“I’d say unique.” He has the audacity to wink at her as she shakes his hand.

“Mr D’Leon-“

“Call me Jamie, please. I’m not ready to be a Mr D’Leon just yet.”

This guy is too much. “Okay, Jamie, I can tell my boss you came by, but like I said neither of us saw anything, so unless you’re looking for a book or directions to the highway, I can’t help you.”

For the first time, Jamie’s grin falters. “You are a tough one.” He takes a phone out of his pocket and selects the first contact on the list. “Bancroft, my darling, are you still sure this is the place?” A beat. “In that case, I’m gonna need some backup. Mhm, mhm.”

He ends the call and reclines into a lazy lean against the circulation desk. Feeling at a loss, Soso is contemplating calling for some backup of her own when the doors open again. This time the newcomer is a serious looking woman with long dark hair, dark skin, and a dark suit to match.

“Excuse me, who are you?”

The woman adjusts her glasses. She’s looking around at the room, hardly taking notice of Soso, like she’s just a part of the scenery and an uninteresting one at that.

“Agent Dana Bancroft,” she answers.

“Agent?”

“What’s the verdict?” asks Jamie.

“No doubt, this is the place.” She looks at Soso as if her presence has only just registered. “Oh, you need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This building is a powderkeg of ma-“

Jamie clears his throat loudly. Soso narrows her eyes. She thinks of what Surehouser had said, about faefolk walking unnoticed among common men. These two don’t look like magical creatures in disguise, but then, neither had he. That’s the point.

There must be some sort of tell, she thinks, otherwise how would those in the know recognize one another? She feigns obedience under their intimidating stares and moves to gather her things. She might not know just who or what these two are, but she can still recognize bad news when she sees it.

Rifling through her bag for a way out of this, her hands find her camera. She still carries it around with her as a habit even though she hasn’t used it much lately. Surehouser is averse to having his picture taken, and she finds herself too unsure to ask Adami even if he would most likely agree. That line of thought causes her to consider, would a glamour- the illusory magic the fae use to disguise themselves among humans- show up on camera?

“Hey ‘agents’, say cheese.”

No sooner has the shutter clicked than something like a purple bolt of lightning shoots it from her hands. When she scrambles to pick it back up, the smoldering plastic sparks and she yelps in pain and shock.

“Bancroft, was that necessary?”

“She knows,” the agent says with cool certainty. Her hands are sparkling with that same iridescent energy.

At this point several things happen at once. Bancroft raises her hands, gathering more power to her. Jamie is saying something to her, trying to talk her down or maybe just throwing around ideas about where to hide the body- Soso can’t focus on that either way because she hears heavy footfalls swiftly approaching and seconds later Adamantius bursts into the room, nearly upending several shelves and roaring like a zoo lion past feeding time. He picks up the agent closest to him, Jamie, and tosses him. His partner whirls towards him and sends a blast of that built up energy directly into his chest. The area glows for a moment like iron in a forge, and then fades, the raging man unaffected.

Surehouser comes in hot on his heels, red in the face. She imagines it was a struggle for him to keep him subdued for as long as he had. The woman readies another attack, shaken but not stalled, and Adamantius seizes and encircles her hands with his own, bearing down like he intends to tear them off before giving her the chance.

“Wait!” Soso yells, but he’s too far gone now. He doesn’t seem to even hear her.

The woman cries out in pain and Soso, panicked, lobs a cookie at his head. It crumbles on impact, but it at least gets his attention. While she has an opening, she rushes him head-first. He doesn’t so much as budge as she rails into him with the full force of her weight. He shoves the agent away just long enough to keep her from braining herself, for all the good it does. She swears she can feel her brain bouncing around the inside of her skull.

“Tha’s enough,” she slurs, shaking her head clear.

“I heard you scream,” Adami protests, eyes wide.

She holds up her hands. The one that touched the camera is burned slightly, the skin at the base of fingers turned paler than that surrounding it, but it’s nothing severe. He must come to the same conclusion, although he still doesn’t look happy about it.

“I’m fine,” she insists. “Things got a little crazy there, but we’re gonna sit down and talk it out like adults.”

“No more talking!” he roars. “All you ever want to do is talk! Why will you not allow me to defend you!”

Agent Bancroft, holding herself up by means of shaking legs and sheer will, opens her suit jacket to reveal an ornate patch stitched into the lining. At a glance it looks like a family crest, split into quarters with each section containing a discreet, delicately embroidered symbol.

“Oh fuck,” sighs Mr Surehouser, so abruptly that Soso almost laughs. “It’s the goddamn feds.”

“Federation of Magical Affairs,” she corrects in between labored breaths. “May I sit down?”

He pulls out a chair. Several rows down, the other agent picks himself up off the floor and limps over.

“Knew I shouldn’t’ve left my sword in the car,” he grumbles.

“Lady Willoughby,” Adami is all but pleading with her now. “Please let me remove the intruders. They are a threat to your safety.”

“Oh we’re a threat!” Jamie scoffs. “You-! You are getting such a citation, mister.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” says Soso.

“Can we agree on a temporary truce?” Bancroft asks. “I think there’s been some confusion. Jamison and I are agents of the FMA assigned to investigate reports of an incident that signaled a potential rogue element. You,” She looks to the librarian. “You’re the watcher assigned to this area, going by the name Anthony Surehouser? We’ve been trying to contact you. You’re running late on your annual report.”

He looks caught. “The date must’ve gotten away from me.”

Jamie says, “We were told to look for a lone building past the woods with a big gargoyle out front. Well we found the building, and now I guess we’ve found the gargoyle too.” He glares at Adamantius, cradling his injured arm. “What is this? Some kind of botched animation spell?”

He growls warningly.

“Adami,” Soso says, trying for a calming tone but landing somewhere closer to tired. “Will you get me some ice for my hand? And for our, er, guest’s arm?”

“Leave you alone with them? The woman reeks of magic.”

Said woman is looking more intrigued by the second. “What did you just call it?” she asks Soso.

A protective impulse flares in her chest despite it all. “His name is Adamantius.”

“The son of man,” she finishes, her eyes alight with wonder. “A feat of magic and science combined, leagues beyond anything created before or since. I thought he was a myth.”

A tense quiet falls over the room.

“For pity’s sake,” Surehouser pipes up at last. “I’ll get the ice.”

 --

 An involuntary hiss escapes her as Soso nurses her burnt hand.

“I could heal that for you,” offers Bancroft. She’s currently checking her partner’s arm for breaks, a soft light emanating from her fingertips, smoothing out the lines of tension on his brow by degrees.

Soso would like to accept, but Adami looks like he’s about a wayward glance away from snapping again and she’d rather not push her luck. His eyes are locked on the sorceress’ hands, even as the violet glow dims to nothing.

“Is it always so… sparkly?” Soso asks, and immediately feels foolish for it.

Either she doesn’t mind the question or she is very good at faking it. “Not always. Spellcasting doesn’t necessarily need a visual aspect, but healing isn’t my foremost specialty so it’s good to be able to see what I’m doing. Wouldn’t want to accidentally fuse any joints together.”

“Again,” Jamie mutters.

“Hush.”

When they aren’t being all secretive and posturing, or throwing balls of lightning around, these so-called agents aren’t bad company, Soso thinks. Though she would wager she’s alone in that sentiment. Adami is still... Adami, and Surehouser seems to be waiting for the other shoe to drop and someone to announce that he’s headed straight for fae jail, if there is such a thing.

The Federation of Magical Affairs, she learns, is an organization whose purpose is keeping the balance between the two worlds. Underhill has its own governing bodies, its countries and courts and what seems to be an awful lot of political drama, but compared to most human government structures their control over the citizens is fairly lax, which means that those who live on the Overhill side of things, human and otherwise, often have to pick up the slack to make sure the majority of humans don’t find out about the faefolk and wind up setting off another war.

It’s the TMA that conducts the regular check-ins with Surehouser to make sure that the contents of the library-beneath-the-library remain preserved and undisturbed, as they have been for the past several centuries. When word came in that there had been a disturbance in the area, possibly of an inhuman nature, Agents D’Leon and Bancroft were sent to investigate.

“The best in the business!” Jamie boasts. He cuts himself off with a whine as his partner pokes his still tender arm.

“I believe we rank seventy-sixth on the leaderboard right now, actually.”

“That’s not so bad,” says Soso. She figures with a job as important sounding as theirs, there must be hundreds, maybe even thousands of agents.

“Out of ninety-nine.”

Or not. “I feel like I should be offended that some mysterious magical agency thought our town was under attack and only sent out a C-rank team to handle it.”

She shrugs. “It was an isolated incident, no real casualties, plenty of signs pointing to a possible hoax. We’ve investigated a lot of hoaxes recently.”

“But it only takes one real one flying under the radar for this whole thing to fall apart,” argues Jamie. “Isn’t it worth following a few false leads if just once we manage to stop something big?”

Dana levels Soso a conspiratorial look. “Jamison fancies himself a knight in shining armor. In reality, the job’s mostly de-escalating minor incidents and filing a whole lot of paperwork. It’s nothing fancy, but there aren’t many good job opportunities for mages these days so…”

“Well it sounds exciting to me,” Soso says, and means it. She can’t imagine getting so used to a job involving real magic and monsters and mystery that it would become mundane. If only this sort of career track had been offered to her in high school. How does a person even get into this business, she wonders.

There’s a none-too-subtle exasperated sound to her right and she’s brought back to the situation at hand.

“Is there any chance this could be written up as one of those false alarms?”

The agents look at one another. Jamie barks a laugh.

“We can’t just not report something like this. We’d lose our jobs, or worse. Plus, a mythical monster warrior living on the outskirts of a human town does seem like kind of a safety concern.”

“You should be very concerned about your safety shortly,” threatens Adamantius.

Surehouser glances worriedly between them. “Isn’t there any way we could keep this under wraps a bit longer? I’m not ready to return home as a disgrace.” Soso clears her throat. He sighs. “And, while I had my doubts, I must admit the beast has been fairly well-behaved since he was released. Technically speaking, no real harm has been done, and he’s served a long enough sentence. In the days of old it’s said the warrior Adamantius served humanity, now it seems he’s chosen a new master, and one less given to warlike tendencies. That can only be an improvement.”

“I don’t want to be Adami’s master,” Soso argues. “He isn’t my servant or my soldier, he’s- he’s my friend. And I think after a thousand years the least he deserves is a chance.”

She looks up at him, and he at her. There’s a look on his face Soso has yet to identify, but behind all the hardness and fire in his eyes, she sees the face of a good man, a man who is more than the monstrosity assigned to him.

“That’s sweet,” says Jamie. “But I don’t know how well the power of friendship defense is going to hold up before the federation. And I gotta say, after being thrown into a wall, my vote is not with you.”

“He was trying to defend me,” Soso insists. “After you guys blasted my camera to bits.”

“Your camera?”

She shrinks back a bit. “I was trying to see if they were, you know, glamoured to look human by using the camera.”

Surehouser claps his hands together. “Soso. That was smart. That might have actually worked.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Well, keep trying, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.” She rubs her thumb over the burnt skin of her hand, no longer hot to the touch but still tender. She doesn’t even want to look at her poor camera.

Bancroft at least has the decency to look guilty about it. “There is a lot of magical energy in this place, a lot of wild magic. It makes me jumpy.”

Surehouser coughs pointedly. There’s a glimmer in his eyes that even Soso doesn’t all the way trust. “Perhaps I can suggest a compromise?”

Adamantius sneers. “Faeries and their gambits.”

“We’re listening,” says Dana.

Under his breath, Jamie adds, “We are?”

“First let me ask you, how soon does the FMA expect you to be back from your present investigation?”

“Investigations can last anywhere from a few days to a few months depending on the nature of the case. As long as we keep HQ updated, we can be here indefinitely.”

His smile broadens. “Then what I propose is this: collect some more data before you make your final decision. If you close the case now, what do you have? You have a legendary war criminal, a potentially dangerous creature of humanity’s own creation holed up in an unaware human town. That doesn’t sound so good. Doesn’t reflect well on me, on you, on the entire federation. Going back with this story would mean telling the FMA to its face that you’ve all failed your core mission statement.

“They can throw our dear Adamantius in some jail somewhere, call it a day, but when this story gets out, no amount of damage control, no amount of PR is going to cover up the fact that they let this happen, and didn’t so much as send out a response team for days. Anything could have happened in that time! And when they finally do file the paperwork and get a team out here, who arrives? Two agents ranked a hair’s width from the bottom of the barrel. No offense.”

“Harsh, but accurate,” she allows.

“It’s not a good look, I think we can all agree,” he continues. “But if you were to stay, gather more intel, and say, came to the conclusion that a human and a faerie had successfully reformed the biggest bad in Underhill history, why that would be a tremendous success! Proof of the balance- the peace- that the FMA has been working towards since its conception. Don’t you think you owe it to the federation, to yourselves, to give this grand experiment more time. If he fails to live up to expectations, well, at least you tried. And you still get to be the heroes who brought in Adamantius the unbreakable. It’s a wager you can’t lose.”

Unless we’re wrong, Soso adds internally, hoping her worries don’t show. Unless Adami really is violence and rage all the way down. She shakes herself. No, it helps nothing thinking like that.

The agents step away to confer amongst themselves, while Surehouser dabs away a drop of sweat with the cuff of his shirtsleeve. Adamantius is as stoic as Soso’s seen him since he was a statue. On impulse, she reaches out and touches his arm in a way she hopes comes off as reassuring. She’s never been the best at this sort of thing, and she can only guess at what’s going through his mind right now, but she wants him to know he’s not alone.

At length, the pair return to the group to give their verdict.

“We will take you up on your offer,” says Jamie, holding himself so rigid you’d think he was pleading guilty to murder. She almost prefers him smirking and swaggering. “Agent Bancroft and I will stay and survey you until we feel we’ve collected enough information.”

Relief washes over her. It’s not a solution, but it’s the next best thing: time. Still, something nags at her. “You mean you’ll be surveying Adami, right?”

“We’ll be watching all of you,” Bancroft corrects. “As far as we’re concerned, you are all under suspicion for the time being.”

“Suspicion of what?”

“Just under suspicion,” she says. “We’ll be taking notes on everything that goes on here and reporting anything suspect.”

The librarian tenses but keeps his expression carefully neutral. “That’s… fair, I suppose.”

He puts out his hand, and she takes it. A small spark of magic flickers between them upon contact.

“I am bound to my word,” says the sorceress.

“And I mine,” the faerie man replies.

Soso isn’t entirely sure what’s just happened, but the tension in the room is thick as pudding and it’s making her want for an exit.

“Adami,” she says. “Let’s go, uh, over there.”

“Mind if I join?” Jamie chirps gleefully. “Of course you don’t! We’re all going to become real good friends, aren’t we?”

Soso’s stomach drops and Adamantius bites down on a low growl. What have they gotten themselves into?

[concealeddarkness13]

A New Dawn Part 11

In which Kai sneaks off with the twins, and she has some good laughs! Tagging my collaborator: @ratracechronicler!

Intro

Kai: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Rat: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Rat and Eli kept checking on me throughout the next few days. Rat even snuck in some street food, and she winked at me and said it was the best healer she knew about. She never really stayed long enough for me to ask her again about what Tila might have said. And she didn’t really meet my eyes. What had she heard? Why wouldn’t she tell me?

She had at least told me that Tila had revealed that one of the aliens had stung me with their weird hairs, and that had made me see and hear what they wanted to. So, that was how they could talk to me without actually being there. But now, hopefully, they had been scared off. They hadn’t tried to whisper in my ears since I had confronted Tila. Hopefully, they were gone for good.

I stiffened when the door opened. Now, the real enigma. Miss Evy was so…nice, and she already seemed to care about me, even though she barely knew me. And she fussed over me so much, asking if I ate and if I was feeling okay. I didn’t get it.

She brought in food and set it on the small table next to my bed. I looked away from her as she started unwrapping the bandages to check on how I was healing. “Thank you.” Just because I didn’t get it, didn’t mean I couldn’t be thankful for what she was doing.

She laughed quietly. “I don’t mind at all, dear.” She frowned down at the wound on my leg. “It’s healing well, given that you don’t have the advanced healing Tersatellans do. I’d say you still have a few more weeks until this is healed, though.”

A frown tugged at my lips, and I looked away before she could see it as she wrapped my wound up again. A few more weeks? It had only been a few days, and I was already bored just sitting here. I forced myself to speak anyway. “Thank you for all your help.”

She nodded. “Of course, dear. Now, you should eat.”

I nodded, but I didn’t reach for the food yet. She walked over to the table again and took some of the food and practically shoved it into my hands. “Please eat, young lady.” Her eyes were so stern. I shrunk down a little and took a few bites, and she smiled. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

She left, and I kept staring out the window. I perked up when Rat and Eli left the house together. Maybe I could follow them? It would give me something to do. But…ever since the encounter with Tila, they had been closer. Looking at each other and smiling, brushing their hands accidentally, whispering in each other’s ears. They probably wanted some privacy. And…I had never been interested in that stuff. If I followed them and they were only being romantic, that would be a waste on top of being too nosy.

I sighed and leaned back as I finished up the food Miss Evy gave me. It was really good. I’d have to make sure to mention that when I saw her again.

Nothing really changed as I just sat there. It was just so boring. I couldn’t move around. And I shouldn’t just be staying in one place for so long. I had to do something. Healing was stupid and boring.

I perked up again when Tim and Tom left the house. Darn it. I could at least follow them. I listened for a little bit to see if Miss Evy was near my room, and when I didn’t hear anything, I jumped out of bed, winced at the stab of pain, and opened the window. I crawled along the roof, even though I had to move slower than I normally did because of my wound. When I got to the edge, I landed as softly as I could and jogged as quickly as I could after them.

Once I caught up to them, I stayed a few blocks behind them, and I remained in the shadows. They didn’t seem to notice, since they were so engrossed in talking to each other. They even bumped into multiple people as they talked and walked, and they weren’t even stealing anything.

Tim did look down at what was probably a beacon at one point, but Tom kept talking like nothing was wrong. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but I didn’t dare get any closer. If they figured out I was following them, they’d probably just bring me back, and this was at least interesting.

But still, with their long legs and the wound on my leg making me walk slower than normal, I was falling behind. Soon enough, I wouldn’t be able to see them, and I’d probably get lost. Crap. I gritted my teeth and tried to walk faster, but I didn’t have to worry about that for long because Tom collapsed on a bench, and Tim stood over him, glaring at anyone who gave them a second glance.

I was able to catch up before they continued walking. They finally stopped in a less crowded area, and someone I didn’t recognize met them. I actually got close enough to listen this time.

Tom laughed after the person they met said something. “You’d better have some good stuff this time. We might be getting a gig with the Kill Switch themself!”

The other person laughed. “I have something prime for you, but I don’t know about something worthy of the Kill Switch.”

Tim shook his head with a sigh. “Ignore my brother’s ramblings. What illustrious items do you have for our inspection?”

The person showed them mostly junk, but there were a few broken machines that could easily be fixed and a rusty knife that had even more useful things with it. I grinned when I saw it. Maybe I could slip that away from them? I shook my head, though, when I remembered all the weapons Tim had with him. Anyway, they were nice. Maybe I could just ask them for it.

When they were done buying, they walked back the way they came, and I had to slip into an unlocked building while they passed me. Tom was grinning at Tim as he held up the knife. “This really could be a good one for the Kill Switch. Maybe as a parting gift.” Tim nodded, and I frowned. Well, my idea to ask them was dead too. Who was this Kill Switch? The way the seller talked about them, they were a big deal.

But it was no time to wonder. I had to keep following them. They just went to a quiet alley where no one else was, and Tom sat down and pulled out what they bought while Tim kept watch. Tom was working on cleaning it up and getting the broken machines to work again. I sat down behind the corner of a building, just straining to listen to what they were saying. I knew it was stupid to even follow them out. What if something happened to me while no one knew where I was? But I was just so tired of doing nothing already. I hissed out a breath. I should just walk up to Tim and Tom and beg them to let me come along with them. It would be safer anyway.

Before I could make up my mind, someone who was walking past noticed me, and his eyes darkened. He stopped right in front of me and glared down at me, and I just frowned back at him. What was his problem?

He actually grabbed my hoodie before I could react and pulled me up so I was standing (even though I still had to look up to just see his face). He waved a finger in my face. “We don’t want people like you in our city! You’re an abomination! Get out of here!”

I just stared at him. What in the world was he talking about? What had I done?

He shook me. “What do you have to say for yourself? Speak!”

Before I could even think, two more shadows loomed behind me, and I didn’t even turn around. Crap. I was surrounded. I finally slipped my knife into my left hand, but it would be harder to defend myself with my non-dominant hand.

But one of the shadows behind me reached around me and held the man’s arm in a death grip. The man winced and actually let go of my hoodie. And then Tim pushed past me and loomed over the man instead. I just stared at Tim. His eyes were so dark.

“If you lay your fingers upon this person again, you will find your arm separated from your body. You will be incapacitated, eviscerated, and even decapitated if you even look at her again. Now, if you would be so kind, leave this vicinity and never look back.”

Tom shook his head with a smirk and leaned up against me. “What’s with all them fancy words? Why don’t we’s just bash his skull in?”

The guy looked between them as his face paled. Tim finally let his arm go, and he ran off without another word.

I just frowned after the guy. Why had he even done that? What had I done? Tom laughed, and he was still leaning against me when he spoke. “Now, why have you been following us?”

I flushed, and stuttered a little before I could get it out. “I…I was just bored sitting around. I’m sorry.” So, they probably noticed at some point.

He laughed. “I don’t blame you. I’d go crazy if I had to lay in bed all day.” He had me sit down next to where he had been sitting, and he pushed a broken machine into my hands. “Here. You can help me, at least.”

I glanced over at Tim to try and see what he thought of all this, but he wasn’t even paying attention. He was staring at his beacon again.

As I started working on getting the machine working again, Tom kept talking. “Now, I’m sure you’re dying to know all the embarrassing secrets we know about Rat and Eli. We participated in this extermination with them, so we know everything. Like how one time, Rex—have you met Rex yet?”

I shook my head. “Uh, the name’s not familiar.”

Tom laughed. “Tag, not name.” What was the difference? What was with these guys and being particular about what things were called? “Anyway,” Tom continued smoothly, “you’ll hate him. It’s tradition. At some point of the extermination, he tried convincing everyone that hunger is caused by bugs implanted into people by the government. And Eli? He actually believed him! One might even say Rex had poor Eli eating from the palm of his hand.” Tom smirked and, without looking, raised a hand for Tim to high-five.

Tim stepped in with a smirk. “This was around the time I, who couldn’t exactly find a lot of restaurants around that catered to my needs, fell real gracefully down a couple stories of jacked-up scaffolding and Rat very nobly decided she was going to rescue me. Savor that image. Savor it, ma femme.” I smirked as I did picture it. Rat was only a little bit taller than me, and Tim towered over me. Rat probably was pulled down more than she was able to help.

“Didn’t she kiss Rex one time just to prove a point?” Tom grinned fiendishly.

“Don’t preach it too loud. You’ll hurt the poor boy’s feelings, knowing his chances are compromised.”

“You didn’t hear it from me, but anyone watching closely when we first gathered and chose teams might’ve thought Rex was a little eager to side with Eli.”

“Of course, we, being gentlemen, don’t indulge in such idle gossip,” Time said loftily, and they both snickered in unison.

I just grinned back at them as I kept working. It was hard to imagine that these light-hearted memories could have happened in a life or death situation. I almost wished that I could have experienced it myself.

 After we were done making everything look good, Tim and Tom brought me along as they sold it all (except the knife) to other people. Tom was good at making the stuff seem better than it was, and Tim loomed over them so that they were intimidated into buying it. They were good at this.

When we got home, Miss Evy ushered us in, and Tim and Tom went off to do some chores as she turned on me. She put her hands on her hips, but her eyes were just disappointed. I shrunk down anyway. How could someone who didn’t even look angry make me feel so intimidated?

“So, would you like to tell me why you decided to leave without telling me?”

I couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I just wanted to do something…”

“And you probably aggravated your wound again. Come on. Let’s check it out in your room.” She gestured for me to follow her, but I dragged my feet. I didn’t want to go back there. I’d be trapped again.

Tom popped his head back into the hallway. “Miss Evy, would it be okay if Kai rested out in the living room with us after you check her wound? I think it’d be better for her healing if she had some laughs and interaction.”

Miss Evy nodded, and I relaxed. I glanced back at Tom before I left and mouthed a thank you. He grinned, gave me a thumbs up, and disappeared again.

Miss Evy fussed over my wound, but she did say that it wasn’t badly hurt, so that was good. After she was done, she escorted me over to the living room and made sure to make a comfortable spot for me before I sat down. It wasn’t that bad, was it?

Rat made a face at me, and Eli watched me with concern in his eyes. I just tried to smile. “So, how was your day?”

Rat crossed her arms. “Well, it was going really well, until Tim told us that you snuck out and followed them. Then Eli decided to get all worried.”

He flushed. “I wasn’t that worried. I knew Tim and Tom would watch over you.”

She snorted. “He kept glancing around like he might see you and need to protect you.”

I hung my head. “I’m sorry—”

But she didn’t let me finish. “And then Tim told us that someone harassed you and called you an abomination. Now, that was unexpected. So, we had to do some digging to see if something changed on social media. And sure enough, it’s plastered with pictures and videos of you running through Fre Jac-Mac.” Rat and Eli exchanged a glance as if they knew what was going on. “So, it’s going to be harder to roadtrip now.”

I frowned. Were people really unhappy about seeing whatever I had done a few days ago? And now I was making it harder for Rat and Eli again. I still couldn’t look them in the eyes. “I’m sorry—”

Rat held up a hand. “Stop. I know what you’re going to say: “I’m a burden and you should leave me behind and I don’t matter”, right?” I nodded. Guess I was too predictable. She shook her head. “Well, don’t say that. We’re gangsters, and we’re friends now. You don’t get a say in whether we bring you along or not.”

Eli glanced over at her. “Isn’t that basically kidnapping?”

“Nah.”

I frowned at her. “So, what are we going to do then?”

Rat grinned a little too wide, and I swallowed hard. “We’re going to have a dress-up session so that no one could possibly recognize you! Tonight, we’ll have fun.” I just stared at her as she cackled. Great. Why did it sound like something evil?

Eli frowned. “Tonight? So, do you want to leave tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I think both me and Kai will die of boredom if we don’t see some new scenery, so yeah.” She glanced back at the kitchen where Tim and Tom were talking. “Sorry, Jacques and Macabreak!” They fell silent, and Rat turned back to us. “I’ll make sure not to push Kai too much. Anyway, isn’t your brother in Farsia right now?”

Eli nodded. “And I think he wants to check up on us after what happened with the social media.”

Rat nodded. “So, it’s settled. We’ll head to Farsia tomorrow and meet up with your bro.”

Tim and Tom walked in after a little bit more, and Tom sat down next to me and smirked at Rat. “So, us three had a grand time today! We talked all about how embarrassing you were in the extermination.”

Rat stuck out her tongue at him. “Well, what about you? You missed the whole extermination because you were stolen by leeches on the first day!”

Tom held his hand to his chest. “You wound me, madam! Let’s not forget I wasn’t actually stolen. You all but tossed me into the ocean with them.”

Tim shifted, and I looked over and shrunk down when I saw his eyes. They were so dark.

Rat glanced at Tim as well. “Yeah, well, you know how us Tersatellans just love impromptu swimming. Fun fact, Kai: most of the bodies of water large enough to fit a person in in this country are frozen. And yet, despite this fact, and despite the much larger fact that he’d only conquered walking and breathing a few days ago, when I happened to fall into the ocean, Eli here valiantly came to my rescue. Since I have actually encountered a pool in my lifetime, you can imagine who was saving who.”

A smile pulled at my lips as Tim’s expression lightened, and he snickered with Tom. Eli, for his part, just smiled. “This happened more than once. I think there were explosives involved during one attempt. I really didn’t learn.”

Tom nudged me. “Talk about spite, irony, and ignorance here—we had this little free-for-all feast once we made it back from the extermination, right? You know how Tim and I have all this junk we’re allergic to? All the same, we found the spiciest tamales we could smell and tried to get this guy to eat them.” He glanced over at Eli.

“That was when Spike called us ‘veggie burgers’,” Tim muttered.

“As he loudly thunked down a whole slab of brisket in front of the beanpole here.” Tom nudged Eli with a wink.

Rat shrugged. “Spike was just settling the score, Tom. You don’t even know. You should have seen the two of em that Monday when we went to Aeon Island and got all gussied up. Nobody’d give Mr. Sunglasses a second glance no matter how many poses he definitely struck on complete accident. Poor soul’s nothing without a crowd. And meanwhile, this guy?” She nodded at Tim. “Had at least ten hopefuls at any given moment just watching him eat grapes. If mortal peril hadn’t kicked in, someone would have proposed. I guarantee it.”

Tim smirked at her. “Yeah? You wanna talk fruit, ma femme? I seem to remember, and now—correct me if I’m wrong, but we were sitting in this high-end establishment in the classiest island in the bay, representing our country, no? And there you were. Trying to toss a grape into your mouth from above. Like a kid. And missing. And hitting your eye instead.”

Rat scoffed. “Oh, don’t stop there. My acute appreciation of the situation and hand-eye-coordination. Then it was onto the fruit puns. I almost killed everyone in the room.”

Eli grinned. “I contributed to the war effort.”

Tom leaned back after he was finished laughing. “Boy, I’m sorry I got left out on the mortal peril, but you two tag teaming bad jokes? That, I’m grateful I missed. I weep to think how all those poor suckers suffered.”

Taeo’s stupid texts had already rubbed off on me, and I had to try. I cocked my head and tried to keep my expression serious. “Oh, they probably suffered punful agony.”

They all stared at me for a little bit before they all burst out laughing. I leaned back and laughed too. Everything was fine. Everyone was safe.

Rat and Eli decided to keep going with the puns, and even though Tim and Tom groaned at the stupid puns, they were smiling. Was this what it felt like to have a family? Safe and comfortable and happy?

Once everyone decided to go to bed, Rat pushed into my room after me and wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Now, it’s time to get dressed up.” Crap. I had forgotten about that. I just nodded and closed my eyes as she started rummaging through some stuff she had with her. It was going to be a long night.

[peerless-soshi]

May I ask for your nice drabble with hualian and 6 + 46?

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

Bookshop AU + Blind Date

The mission looked simply.

Step one: go to the bookstore. Step two: grab the book. Step three: leave the bookstore without causing any additional problems.

Nothing out of ordinary - if you’re an ordinary person, of course, and not Xie Lian. A loser he was, he never had any hopes things could just go as planned.

It could have been worse, Xie Lian thought, gritting his teeth and reaching up. It was good enough that nobody saw him in this embarrassing pose. He stood on his tiptoe, grabbed the shelf, raised his head… Just a little more! His arm started to ache, as if an army of annoying yet bloodthirsty ants was biting it off… And he wasn’t even that short. But here and now, Xie Lian felt like a hamster climbing a bed. Or a bookcase.

It was routine after lectures for him to go to the small bookstore with used books and do homework. Usually, he could count on a nice seller that always took afternoon shifts and wandered through the aisles decked in the smell of books, quietly like a speck of dust, somehow ending up near Xie Lian. But today the boy was nowhere to be found. Maybe Xie Lian shouldn’t be surprised; after all, the book he needed was placed at the very top of the bookcase, and his bad luck made sure there was no ladder nor help to save him.

Xie Lian looked around, then glanced up. It was there; a small paper butterfly eyed him back from the spine of the book, silvering in the light so dimmed by the high shelves. It was just his imagination, a stupid rustle of sheets, but Xie Lian thought he heard a distant wings flutter…

Embarrassing.

Any claims that the paper butterfly was left there for him were nonsense and haughty dreams. He bowed his head. Xie Lian knew he was insisting upon a reason in a coincidence, but last thing he wanted to do — the very last thing — was stopping right before the ending. And so Xie Lian set his foot on the bottom shelf and cautiously checked the weight. Nothing, The bookcase seemed to be stable, hundreds of heavy stories resting on its shelves and holding them under the cover of dust. He added another leg, straightened up. Waited. The sound of crash never came. Well, it was already more than Xie Lian was hoping for. The bookcase falling on him, burying him under a ton of paper like under rubbish and leaving like that until the next morning… Xie Lian pictured it that way. Or similar. But he could easily reach up and touch the book with the silver butterfly. Almost. Just few more centimeters…

The crack came to his ears later than expected. Xie Lian didn’t have time to glean much of an impression from what was going on, he only felt the book slipping away from his fingers and falling, pulling along a cascade of volumes. Allowing himself to act on the spur of the moment, Xie Lian tried to catch them.

Expect that he was the one being caught.

“What?” he exclaimed, meeting the blink of crimson eyes.

It was him. The nice seller, Hua Cheng.

His one hand closed on Xie Lian’s waist, helping him, while the other kept in place the escaping books, like a thread of light passing from a dark corner, too fast to notice. Xie Lian’s breathing swallowed. Strange. He didn’t expect to be that surprised by books… As if remembering about his offence, Xie Lian looked up to see that Hua Cheng stopped the swaying bookcase and pulled something from the cursed top shelf.

“Is this what you were looking for?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes. Thank you a lot,” Xie Lian answered, taking the book and trying to return the smile despite the blush flooding his ears.

“You should call me, I would came,” Hua Cheng said, and then added, a bit like explaining something that stayed only in his mind, “It’s really quiet here. I’d just hear you no matter what.”

Xie Lian simply nodded. His nervousness was palpable; seen in tense gestures, heard in shaking words. “There’s no need, no need! I didn’t want to bother you… though in the end, I did it anyway, right? You’re looking at the master of making unwanted problems.“

“You’re never a problem,” Hua Cheng stated faintly.

“You only said that because you didn’t spend enough time with me,” Xie Lian commented with a rueful smile, his words spilling out.

Has he really just said it?

The bookseller didn’t answer immediately, faltering into a painful silence. Xie Lian risked a quick look at Hua Cheng’s face. Though so skilled in browsing books, he still couldn’t read it. There was a glint of surprise in his eyes, and a shadow of annoyance on his lips. He didn’t speak, but something passed between them.

It was when Hua Cheng broke the silence. “I’ll never refuse my biggest help in your slightest worry. Just ask.”

Upon hearing it Xie Lian noticed, finally, how small was the distance between them. If he stepped forward, he could scuffed his palm on Hua Cheng’s chest and maybe feel the smell of flowers, now shallow under the ever-present old paper scent. So he did what any adult would do in the face of an awkward situation — turned on his heels and fled.

“Thank you for your help and goodbye!”

“Gege, wait!” Hua Cheng called, flashing a glance Xie Lian’s way. But he was cut by the closing door.

True, it was rude to run away so suddenly, but he’s gotten used to offending people despite his intention. What new could detract him? So Xie Lian just run, until his knees felt weak, until his throat trapped his breath, hoping Hua Cheng didn’t chase after him.

Now, what was pushing him out from the bookstore? Shame? Probably. Whatever it was, he had to get away, or his heart would reach a speed threatening to end him in an ambulance. Not that he expected a real heart attack. Dying like that would be too simple.

When the familiar street scenery was gone, Xie Lian also slowed down, his heartbeat deafening. Small clouds of his rapid breathing wrapped around his head, cooling drops of sweat. Yes, a breath in and out… A light frisson of shivers went down Xie Lian’s arms— the days were getting shorter and he couldn’t believe it was already so cold and late: dark sky above him, starlight outlining his shadow on the sidewalk. The chilly autumn air bit through his jacket.

Xie Lian was standing there, shaking a little, when a lightning hit: from a technical standpoint, he had just stolen this book, right? Taking an item from a place where said items were being sold and not paying for it could be called differently, but it boiled down to one: he was a thief.

Something new in his life.

The weird thing was, Xie Lian didn’t feel that bad. Now, when the heart was silent, his thoughts spoke much louder. There was nothing he could do but come back to the bookstore and apologize to Hua Cheng. If he turned back immediately, there was a chance the seller would give it up. Xie Lian didn’t have enough money to buy a hamburger at a promotional price, not to mention a prison bail. Take care of it immediately or die in a cell later. But then the book became heavier in his pocket. Xie Lian stopped and reached for it carefully. Checking now wouldn’t hurt… He stepped aside, leaned against the wall and let a little light of a street lamp hide him.

His curious eyes drifted through the text, lost in the new world. The small paper butterfly was still there, still on the spine, its wings like sails of a ship taking him on another journey. Xie Lian’s pulse stammered. The shush of pages turning showed him the familiar calligraphy, so crooked and messy and written in honey.

To Xie Lian,My heart is so full of you; I can hardly call it my own.- San Lang

Though it was the ugliest, the most cursed writing Xie Lian has ever seen, the quote decorated the whole front page like an example of how something can be beautiful without being beautiful. He found himself flattened against the wall, behind his closed eyelids imagining a hand scribbling those words, then painting them red and flowery… And oh, the hot flush of shame flooded him. It was burning. But like the previous ones, this book was filled with messages: some parts of the text were underlined, other fragments were added, and handwritten though barely legible notes snaked in the margins elsewhere. Pay attention to this… Isn’t it funny?… Actually in 1876… Don’t you think it can be interpreted as…

The mysterious San Lang kept leaving books for Xie Lian. And Xie Lian kept finding them in the next-door bookstore.

He hid the book under his arm. Sticking here wouldn’t help, especially when his homework was piling up somewhere in his room. But when Xie Lian turned the book upside down, something fell down. A petal of white, not so different than a paper butterfly: a rustling pair of glorious wings. The impulse to reach for it was so strong, and Xie Lian caught the piece of paper before it could touch the ground. From there, his own name glanced at him.

To Xie Lian, from San Lang.

An envelope.

He opened it with trembling hands.

I can think of so many things to tell you when you make me forget my words. This can’t be. If you come to the bookstore tonight at 7 pm, I’ll happily let you in. - San Lang

There was such an elegance in these lines, encyclopedias of meanings and feelings between them, that Xie Lian ignored how badly written it was. He only stared at the letter and read it again, under the street lantern. He read it while walking. He read it on the main sidewalk. He read it on a park bench. He stumbled over a can while reading it again.

Meet me. Someone was asking Xie Lian out.

He sort of wanted to go.

He sort of couldn’t get it out of his head that San Lang was a dream, daring and magnificent. And it was fictitious, of course. Xie Lian liked it; talking with him through books and anonymous messages was almost… Was what? Romantic? This sounded way too proud and could seriously mean a thousand things. But something Xie Lian has never considered was accepting that San Lang was just a person of skin and blood, even though he knew it. He did. And he knew that looking into his eyes with so many confessions stored behind the back door in his memory… Xie Lian blushed. It have made him feel awkward.

Running on a blind date with a stranger, late in the evening, when nobody knew where Xie Lian went was the perfect recipe to get somebody killed. Xie Lian was not somebody. He wandered about it a little when he stopped right before the bookstore, but much more he wandered why he called it a date

He had to admit to himself that rejecting the invitation after everything San Lang has done for him was unfair. At the very least Xie Lian could make sure it wasn’t a joke. And the almost-stolen book was a good excuse to come.

The first part of his problem appeared as soon as Xie Lian arrived; Hua Cheng was standing behind the glass door, peering at a crust of early autumn frost rousing in the corners. The street lights were caught on the glass like in a spider’s web, softening his features in golden touches of amber. He looked thoughtful; there was a light in his eyes of wistfulness and absolute wonder. For a moment Xie Lian suffered a slight prick of envy for whoever was behind this enthralled look. Until he realized that Hua Cheng was looking at him.

All of this happened in a flutter of seconds —Xie Lian took a step forward, seized the handle, and Hua Cheng approached, only to lock the door. He turned his head. Xie Lian was so accustomed to the emotions accompanying being ignored that it shouldn’t startle him, but it was Hua Cheng, and it hurt to be a phantom that couldn’t be seen. he fell back a step and the seller’s eyes followed him. Something on his face changed.

What was going on?

“Sorry….” Xie Lian started, hoping that Hua Cheng could hear him behind the door, “I didn’t want to bother…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Hua Cheng rushed to say, “It was me who made you feel bad. I didn’t want things… to turn out like this. Or to end like this. May you forget?”

“Forget?” Xie Lian repeated. He couldn’t stop himself and breathed out a small, incredulous laugh. “I came back to apologize for stealing this book and return it.” He pointed to the book hidden under his arm. “Why are you apologizing to me? I don’t understand.”

Hua Cheng blinked. They stood for a moment, facing each other on two sides of the door, until Xie Lian realized the air around him became warmer. It wasn’t the weather — his breath was still painting on the cold glass like a brush —but something inside his chest sparkled, and ignited. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Hua Cheng. The boy had red on his cheeks.

He tapped the door with his finger. “There’s nothing to worry about, I didn’t even consider it stealing. Take the book, it’s yours.”

But Xie Lian grabbed the handle. The soft guilt in his eyes now hardened. “Why did you apologize?” he asked, “What were you trying to say?”

Everything clicked into place. The books being always what he needed made sense, and he understood why they were waiting for him away from other customer’s sight. Why San Lang was never wrong about what to write, as if he knew him.

“It’s you?” Xie Lian whispered, not asked.

Hua Cheng bounced a little, his hand close to the lock. This time it was his turn to look as if he was about to run away from the bookstore and get on a plane to another country.

This has never crossed his mind — Hua Cheng and San Lang and his quiet bookstore — but the moment Xie Lian put his hand on the glass, the biggest smile lit his face, and the feeling of comfort filled him. Maybe he was crazy. After all, he was planning to go… on a date… with a secret admirer. But that’s the point: his blind date wasn’t blind at all.

“Didn’t you write that you would gladly let me in?”

The click of the lock was as beautiful as a silver butterfly.

[neonganymede]

For the writing prompt could you do #8 with a jealous McCree? It would make my day!! Also i love your work

Anonymous said: Haha i think i might have forgotten to mention my request for prompt 8 to be Mchanzo... Sorry for the confusion

It’s probably bad, but I was already planning for McHanzo, mostly because I don’t ship McCree with anybody else, sooo... no worries!

8. “Why are you so jealous?”

McCree stood by the bar,slowly tipping back a glass of champagne he couldn’t even taste. He wassupposed to be keeping an eye out for illegal arms dealing going on, but McCreecouldn’t focus on the mission. No, he was too busy glaring at his partner on theother side of the ballroom.

Hanzo looked fucking beautiful. His suit was tailor-made andfit him too damn well for it to be right,and he’d hardly stopped smiling since they arrived. McCree knew it was all anact, that the Hanzo he knew and loved would never smile so much, not naturally,but the people who kept approaching him were too stupid to realize that Hanzowas just playing a part.

Jesseknew Hanzo for who he really was, not thebastard trying to get lucky by chatting up the pretty Japanese man. McCree hadhalf a mind to stomp over there and break them up, but no. That might blowtheir cover. He didn’t want to risk it.

Winston had stressed thatif this mission went south, Talon could get their hands on some incrediblypowerful weapons, and the reformed Overwatch might not be able to handle it.All that stood in the way was Hanzo, McCree, and now this asshole leaning tooclose to Hanzo and smiling too nicely and—

Shit.

McCree downed anotherglass of champagne. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking, but that had neverstopped him before. He was too pissed to get drunk, anyway. He was pissed anddidn’t have any real reason to be pissed and that was pissing him off even more.

It didn’t help that Hanzohadn’t even looked at him. Not when Jessearrived, a little later as per agreement so nobody would think they weretogether. Not when a pretty woman asked Jesse to dance. And not when thisasshole took a seat and began his aggressive flirtations.

Setting aside the emptyglass, Jesse scanned the room for anything that might catch his eye. Nothinginvolving Talon. Everything involvingHanzo.

The asshole was too closeto the archer now, and McCree could see Hanzo’s discomfort from the other sideof the room. He kept glancing around, looking for a way out of the conversationand finding none. The man accosting him was either too drunk to notice or toodrunk to care, but McCree noticed. McCree cared.

His fist clenching, heturned away from the room entirely, choosing instead to stare at the severalempty champagne glasses he’d left on the table. He almost reached for another.Almost asked for something stronger. Anything to distract him from what wasgoing on with Hanzo and the jackass on the other side of the room.

Jesse wasn’t allowed toget involved. They had to be strangers.Strangers could talk though, right? He could go over and ask for a dance orsomething. Anything to get Hanzo away from a guy who looked like he wanted toreach out and—

He didn’t have to thinkabout it long before all hell broke loose, in typical mission fashion. Later,they would learn that there was a disagreement about the price of the weapons,that Talon tried to skimp the seller. Whatever the case, McCree was glad afight broke out before he had to go over and break some guy’s arm.

It was pretty cut and dryafter that. The two of them managed to take out the Talon operatives, acquirethe weapons, and return both to the proper authorities, operating under the lieof we just happened to be here, officer,I don’t know what this Overwatch thing you’re mentionin’ is. Hanzo saidvery little to Jesse, and at the time, the cowboy hadn’t thought much about it.Hanzo could be pretty quiet on missions, especially after he’d been forced toact so out of character all night. McCree wasn’t about to push him.

In public, of course. Oncethey were in their hotel room unwinding for the night, McCree expected achange. Hanzo always collapsed against him, exhausted and needing a recharge ofthe ol’ McCree batteries. Or if he still needed some space, he would at least give Jesse a kiss on the cheekbefore he disappeared for a few hours.

Tonight, though? Tonight,Hanzo blatantly ignored him. The moment the two of them entered their sharedroom, Hanzo took to himself, loosening his tie and pretending that McCree didn’texist. Jesse leaned against the doorway, trying to remember if he’d doneanything wrong lately, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing.

He could always wait untilHanzo was ready to tell him what was wrong, but fuck that. McCree had watchedsome other man ogle his archer all damn night, and he was gonna have some cuddles.He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and approached the subjectgently.

“So what the fuck’re youso pissed about?” Yeah. Gentle. Way to go, cowboy.

Hanzo snorted but saidnothing.

“Did I actually do it? Ordo you just think I did it?”

Hanzo’s cool glare wasanswer enough. He’d done it, all right. He’d definitely done it, and he neededto be sorry real fast.

Hanzo was talking beforeMcCree could start thinking about an apology. “Are you insecure with ourrelationship?”

“What?” McCree asked,completely dumbfounded. He stepped closer to Hanzo, who only receded a steptoward the opposite wall. “Now what gave you an idea like that?”

Hanzo’s mouth tilted intoa wry sneer; any moment now, and he might be baring teeth, and then McCreewould have to pretend that didn’t turn him on as much as it definitely would. “Icould practically feel you seething fromthe other side of the room. Did you think I would not notice you staring thewhole time? You could have jeopardized our mission!”

“Yeah, and what about you?”McCree demanded, anger rising up in him again. He knew it wasn’t Hanzo he was angry at, but he couldn’tseem to stop himself from directing his ire at him. “Lettin’ that guy cozy on upto ya like that?”

“That is what upset you?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow, silently judginghim. McCree could feel it in hisstare. Genji used to do that kinda shit, too. Must be a ninja thing. “Why are you so jealous?”

“I ain’t jealous,” McCree replied, suddenlyfeeling like an idiot. So maybe he’d been a littlejealous. No big deal. Not now that he could gather Hanzo up in his arms andshower him with affection.

But Hanzo’s body languagewas closed off, tight and stiff and unwelcoming. His shoulders were rigid, hischin turned up in that way that seemed to reek of superiority but that McCreeknew was just an act. When Hanzo spoke again, his quiet voice sounded strangledwith suppressed anxiety, and the sound of it punched McCree in the gut.

“You are most certainlyjealous, Jesse. The only reason I can think is that you don’t feel stableenough in our relationship.”

“Now, hold on.” McCree advancedagain, hands stretched out to pull Hanzo to him. At first, Hanzo tried toresist, twisting and tugging to no avail. He was weak to McCree’s touch, andsoon he was swaying toward Jesse, longing to lean into his chest but having toomuch that still needed saying.

“Do you not trust me? Doyou think that I would cheat on you with some drunkard while you were in the same room?”

“That ain’t it, darlin’.Come here.” McCree cupped Hanzo’s face in his hands, thumbs rubbing smooth circlesagainst sharp cheekbones. “O’ course I trust you. I trust you with my life, andI trust you with my heart. You weren’t what was buggin’ me about the wholething.”

“Then what was it?” Hanzowas still trying his best to resist McCree’s touch. His best wasn’t very good.

“I… I couldn’t do anything. I had to just stand there andwatch while some asshole got up all nice and close with ya, and that just—I hated it. I hated seein’ how uncomfortableya were. I hated that I couldn’t just go over there and plant one on ya. Showthat guy that you’re spoken for.” Now that he was saying it aloud, Jesse wasdefinitely feeling like a damn idiot, but it still irked him.

He could still see thatguy’s face in his mind and wondered how far he’d gotten. Maybe kicking the man’sass would help? McCree could say that he was just a casualty during the mission.Yeah. Nobody would ever know the difference.

“You—” Hanzo huffed, whichsounded suspiciously like a laugh. “You are a ridiculous man. I am fully capable of defending my own honor.”

“Yeah, I know that! You’remore than capable, Han.” McCree shifted a bit. Hanzo hadn’t even startedscolding him yet, but he already felt like a damn child caught with his hand inthe cookie jar. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”

The hard lines of Hanzo’sface softened in endearment, and he threaded his fingers into McCree’s hair topull his mouth closer. McCree went willingly, eager for the slow kiss Hanzo ledhim into. Hanzo’s touch was grounding, reassuring, and exactly what McCree hadbeen aching for all night. He parted his lips and let Hanzo delve deep, barelynoticing when Hanzo began to direct him toward the bed.

Before he knew it, McCreewas sitting on the bed with a lapful of archer, barely able to tell where he endedand Hanzo began. He would’ve been content to just stay there, enjoying the familiarpress and pull of Hanzo’s mouth, but his man had other plans. Hanzo pulled awayto press their foreheads together, breathless as he struggled to find the wordshe needed.

“Never forget that you are the one I have chosen, McCree. Icome home to you, not some inebriated man foolish enough to think I could be soeasily won over.” You are home, wasthe unstated message, but Jesse heard it loud and clear. Saw it in the wayHanzo’s eyes warmed the moment the cowboy gazed at him. Felt it in the wayHanzo gripped his shoulders, fingers pressing with a firmness that McCree welcomedgladly.

McCree felt a smile creepacross his face. Hanzo did have apoint; it’d been hell trying to get the prickly bastard to open up in thebeginning, but McCree had kept at it. He worked hard getting through thatprickly exterior, gradually building up a foundation of trust until Hanzoopened up to him.

And Jesse’s reward wassitting in his lap, looking at him so adoringly, it fucking hurt.

“I ain’t gonna promise Iwon’t get jealous again.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes butsmirked. “No, I would not expect you to. Perhaps next time, you will be able tointervene and defend me as you see fit.”

“And you ain’t gonna getpissy at me?”

Hanzo shrugged. “If youare being foolish, it is my duty toinform you.”

“Good enough for me, sugar,”McCree determined, laughing. He considered himself a lucky man that he couldpull Hanzo back in for another languid kiss and feel the content way Hanzo meltedagainst him, his sigh quiet and relaxing. Sure, he might not have been able toget involved earlier, but this? More than enough to put his heart at ease.

“Hey, how would you reactif you were jealous?”

“I would not get jealous.I would eliminate the problem before it became a threat.”

“Wha—Hanzo, you fuckin’ hypocrite.”

[iloveyoupittsburghpirates-blog]

You Are Back In It, Pittsburgh Pirates

My Dearest Pittsburgh Pirates, 

And the streak continues. I didn’t know if you would be able to keep the winning going against a Reds’ team that has played much better lately. I should’ve known better. You beat the crap out of them outscoring them 27-5 in a three-game series and you’ve increased your winning streak to nine games. Yes, you averaged nine runs per game in this series. You’ve climbed the ladder but you’re still a fairly insurmountable eight games back in the division. The interesting part is the Wildcard chase where you are only 4 ½ games back of the Brewers and the Phillies, the two Wildcard teams as of now. The Brewers got smoked again today so you are in it. There are still two teams between you and the final Wildcard spot, but you’re coming on strong just at the right time so that if you’re a seller at the trade deadline it will look terrible and if you don’t it will look stupid. This winning steak might be the most Pirates’ thing you have ever done. The offense has been absolutely electric albeit against some mediocre pitching. If you keep winning at this rate, is it possible you become buyers at the deadline? It’s not out of the question. I would have never imagined you would be in this position but I also never imagined you would win nine in a row. This next week will determine a lot. If somehow this winning continues and you’re within a couple games of a Wildcard spot, then maybe the thinking does need to change. I’m not there yet, but the tide is turning.

Marte and Polanco have remained on absolute fire after the All Star break. Both have raised their OPS’s to .827 and .829 respectively with 15 and 17 home runs now on the season. This offense centers around them. Marte is a known commodity already having a full season in which he had an OPS over .900. Polanco might finally be breaking out and I almost hesitate to say that. His last month he’s been one of the best hitters in baseball with an OPS over 1.000 during that stretch. Anyone arguing we should trade them while their value is high is crazy. Polanco is only making 3.5 million this year. You have him under contract through 2023 and the last two years of the contract are option years where the most he will make is 13.5 million. Marte is making 7.5 million this year and he’s technically under contract until 2021 and he’ll make 12.5 million in that final year. Because of those team friendly contracts, their value is very high and you could get high-end prospects in return for them. The problem is that even if you got a few of the better prospects in baseball, you still don’t know how they will turn out. Even with Polanco’s inconsistencies, both him and Marte are proven commodities. When the Padres traded their closer, Brad Hand, and reliever Adam Cimber, who is having an awesome season, earlier this week and got one of the top prospects in baseball in return, people discussed trading Felipe Vasquez. First off, to get that kind of return, we would need to trade Vasquez and Crick. You only do that if you don’t think you can compete in the next couple years and given this run and how the NL really only seems to have two elite teams (Cubs and Dodgers especially after they traded for Manny Machado), it’s reasonable to believe you could compete sooner. You still might end up trading players who will be free agents this year or next year, but I don’t think doing a full rebuild is the right move because you don’t know what you will get in return and I honestly don’t trust this front office to make moves of that magnitude.

Who has the best OPS on your team right now? That would be Corey Dickerson after his 4 for 5 performance which included a double and two home runs, his 10th and 11th. He’s homered in four straight games. His OPS is up to .856 and he will be the biggest debate whether to trade him or not at the deadline. Obviously this nine-game winning streak throws a minor curveball into that thought process. He has another year of arbitration next year so he’s under your control for another season. He’s making 5.95 million this season so it’s fair to guess that he would make around 8 or 9 million next year. That’s still very reasonable for a guy with his current statistics. He’s been a streaky hitter throughout his career and his BABIP is .330 right now so he’s due for a regression. He is right around top five in the NL in batting average, which I know isn’t that important to most people, but it makes him fit very well at the top of the lineup. This week will probably determine if you are buyers or sellers but Dickerson could net you a very nice return. If you have a rough week and still don’t trade him, then that will tell me a lot about your opinion on Austin Meadows. I know Meadows started off strong but his last month before being demoted was well below average. The drop off from a .856 OPS to a .617 OPS (Meadows’ last month) is obviously drastic. I really like Dickerson as a ball player particularly his approach with two strikes on him. I don’t know why more players don’t choke up in that situation. He’s also cut down on his swing and misses on fastballs in the zone considerably after being the worst in baseball at that last year. That makes me think this could be sustainable.  By this time next week, Dickerson could be on another team. If he’s still here, that’s great. You could always trade him this offseason too. Or maybe you should extend him and trade Meadows. Again, it’s a proven commodity versus potential that might never come to fruition. Meadows has been very average at almost every level in the minors. One way or another, trading for Dickerson seemed like a no-brainer at the time and it has proved to be a brilliant move. Even if he ends up being traded, that mean you got a damn good prospect for him which is a win too.

I’ve been all about trading JHay and Mercer, bringing up Kevin Kramer and Kevin Newman, and starting them for the rest of the season. I’m starting to backtrack on that. Obviously things could change depending on what happens this week, but maybe you need to stay the course for now. I know JHay has had a terrible offensive season (.639 OPS) and Mercer is having a typical season which means his OPS is right around .700. Those aren’t two guys you want starting. I’m sticking with the theme of the week here which is you don’t know what prospects will actually do in the majors. People will say that there’s no way Kramer and Newman could be worse than those two but the reality is they could be. It’s very possible they could come up, bat under .200, and have an OPS of .500. That would be significantly worse. It’s also important to keep in mind that given their offensive numbers you are going to get next to nothing in return for Mercer or JHay. They both play stellar defense and are smart ball players, but that’s it. If this week ends up being a disaster and you fall well out of contention, I’d trade them in a second. I would just be sure that everyone is realistic on the lack of return you are sure to get and the possibility that what you are left with could even be worse than what you had. It’s a similar situation with Ivan Nova. I’m all for trading him too but, with the Kuhl injury, that means you are probably putting Glasnow or Holmes in the rotation and neither of those are a very desirable circumstances. My overall point is be careful what you wish for because things could always get worse.

I’m not overstating it when I say that this is the most important week of the season. For the millionth time, it will basically determine if you will be buyers or sellers at the deadline. The week starts with a tall task and finishes with a fairly easy one. Tomorrow you travel to Cleveland to take on the first place Indians and the pitching matchups don’t favor you at all. You start off by facing the defending Cy Young winner Corey Kluber and his 12-5 record with a 2.76 ERA. He will face basically your #5 starter Trevor Williams and his 4.36 ERA. That doesn’t bode well for you. Game 2 will see Joe Musgrove facing off against one of the top 100 prospects in baseball and the Indians #3 prospect, Shane Beiber. He’s 5-1 with a 3.53 ERA since being promoted after he threw a no-hitter in Triple-A. Game 3 will be your ace, Jameson Taillon, facing off against former top three pick Trevor Bauer and his 2.44 ERA. It’s the biggest series of the season and you are facing two Cy Young candidates and an elite prospect. After that, you go home to face the Mets and their lowly offense for a four-game series. You will have to go against Jacob DeGrom, but the other three games are very winnable. If this week goes well, you could be buyers at the deadline. If it goes south, you will be sellers. No pressure. It’s been a hell of a ride over this nine-game winning streak so thank you for that. Just keeping playing the way you have been and we will see what happens. Love you bunches!

                                                                                           Enjoying The Ride,

                                                                                                      Brad

P.S. stands for Pathetic Shit (pardon the language) and that’s in reference to the Brewers’ All Star reliever Josh Hader. During the All Star game, it was discovered that he had tweeted out some very racist and very homophobic things a few years ago when he was 17 years old. There is no excuse for that kind of behavior. He apologized for it and maybe he’s grown up a lot since then. We all did some stupid things when we were that age. I do think it’s a little ridiculous that his only punishment is sensitivity training rather than being suspended. A five-game suspension is still a fairly light punishment. Putting that aside, it was even more crazy when on his return to the mound at Miller Park that he was greeted with a standing ovation. I can understand forgiving the guy to a certain extent and maybe even not booing him (though I might have), but a standing ovation? Really? Poor form, Milwaukee…

[abiteofnat]

OUT IN THE WILD, WILD WEST LOOP...

THERE’S A LOT OF GOLD TO BE FOUND. In the form of pizza, pasta, tacos, booze, and everything good that’s bad for you. The Randolph Street area west of the highway that runs next to Chicago is becoming ~the~ place for dinner plans and Friday night dates as it’s being transformed from warehouse valley to an up-and-coming Broadway of food, which is great news for the whole city. 

While I’m fairly certain not even the most extreme foodie has been able to eat at every single place in Chicago, it’s easy to find your favorites and settle into choosing from them versus really exploring a new section of the city. West Randolph has created a whole new division of restaurants and bars to float around and honestly they’re all hits; no where on this street is a flop and it’s such an aesthetically pretty area to be day or night. There’s the view of the entire skyline on one side, and then old, gorgeous brick building refurbished and repainted lining both sides of the street. Since this used to be a heavy factory/ storage area, there are still a lot of untouched lots which adds an old-Chicago vibe that O’Leary’s cow could probably fit right into, but with all the patios and twinkly lights spilling onto the sidewalks the restaurants really nailed the shabby-chic look. 

Over the past eight months or so I’ve eaten my way through Randolph Street because every restaurant looks better than the last, and I can honestly say I love nothing more than dressing up a little and getting an early dinner somewhere new and cute to sit in for hours, and if I’m with my best friends or my family?!? OVER THE MOON. A good 6 p.m. dinner followed by wandering around the city in search of a night cap or a verrryyyy chocolaty dessert? PAST THE MOON AND TO JUPITER. My life philosophy is that the best moments are spent around food and loved ones, and that happiness really is that simple... which is why every weekend I go home to my family where we all love to eat out in Evanston and then get ice cream anywhere because we don’t keep treats in the house (since we all entirely lack self control) and dessert is a nightly “congrats” for getting through the day. But sometimes they want to come into the city and that’s when it’s my turn to find the top-notch noshes! 

Should you need a date night idea or somewhere to bring your best friend/family for a birthday dinner, here are some golden nuggets along West Randy. 

1. Formento’s 

I came across Formento’s on Instagram one million times before ever making it there as they are one of the restaurants that caught onto the “cacio e pepe” pasta trend before the rest of the city did, and the boomerangs of a soft egg yolk breaking over thick, peppery noodles haunted my dreams for weeks. When my girl Luzi asked where we wanted to get dinner one night over the summer when it was a perfect, breezy evening I didn’t even hesitate to suggest Formento’s- with a beautiful and lush patio and a menu packed with drool-worthy food, and she was like “Yes, duh”, so off we went! The waiter was a quirky gal full of suggestions and more than willing to walk us through the menu which is somewhat tapas style and an “encouraged to share” type thing, which always makes me a little anxious but all my brain could think was “cacio e pepe cacio e pepe cacio e pepe” so somehow along the way we also ordered olives and a kale salad but I barely remember those. The olives were marinated and served slightly warm, and they brought us bread thick with rosemary and garlic and wowie it was good enough to be a meal on it’s own. I would love to go back and try the burrata and the lump crab toast, but this place is more of a treat-yourself night out place than a drop in for a casual $50 dinner place so I’m biding my time for an event to celebrate there! 

The pasta finally arrived after we had to move inside post surprise thunderstorm, and in the glow of candles and dim, sexytime lighting I met my love. A perfect swirl of al dente bucatini tossed in a light cream & cheese sauce spotted with freshly cracked pepper, and then an egg yolk perfectly contained and sitting on top like a fucking queen was almost too much to handle. I cracked the yolk and damn, this was one of those moments I wish my eyeballs had a camera built in because I was too engrossed in it to capture it on video. 

This pasta was exactly as good as I wanted it to be and how Instagram made it look, and we all know Instagram is a catfish playground and with all the fuckin gross food going viral because of it you can never quite trust it... but this was good, tried & true. I’m thinking graduation round 2 dinner might be here in the spring... hmmmm.

Oh and the wine menu is dope as well, any nice red would pair well with the spicy + flavorful appetizers and the freshness of the pasta selection. 

2. De Cero (slash) Hello Tacos! 

Ok so the name of this restaurant still confuses me as it used to be De Cero and then they changed it to Hello Tacos! but both show up if you Google it... I promise it’s the same place. This was sooo the shocker of my summer because I was taken against my will to get tacos with my family after a nine hour bus ride from Nashville back to Chicago, and I wanted to shower and curl up in a clean, controlled environment for like five hours before entering the world again but the parents were hungry. And they were kind enough to drive downtown to pick me up, so to turn down a nice dinner out would have just been rude and extremely stupid. So off we went in search of something tasty and my dad suggested De Cero, which we walked into and instantly fell in love with. Even though I smelled like an actual dumpster (the Megabus is not a glamorous way of transit, but I love it) I was instantly coated by the scent of fresh tortilla chips, smoky spices, and freshly sliced lime. We sat down in a cozy wooden booth under a wall of beautiful quilts and were immediately offered a drink (their flavored margaritas are DELICIOUS) and told to pick 3 (!!!) salsas from their list of options. As someone who believes in coating everything I eat in like sixteen sauces, getting to pick three salsas and receiving huge bowls of them was absolute heaven.  We got the Warm Chipotle which is for sure my favorite, imagine just a heavy, garlicky red salsa that���s delightfully toasty, the Tomatillo Lime Verde, and the Pico de Gallo. Later when I came back with a friend (legitimately one week later), I changed out the Pico for the Mango Habanero and it was incredible. I hate mango with every inch of my body, but in the way they marinated and treated the salsa it looses the tropical zing and is just really moist and sweet. All of these salsas? BOMB.COM. Exceptionally flavorful, and more than enough to bring home with you after. 

For dinner, my dad and I got the Grilled Mahi Mahi tacos and HOLY GUACAMOLE THEY WERE FAB. The most succulent, meaty fish fillets dripping with marinate and then topped with an asparagus compote and then doused in avocado puree, all in a corn tortilla that can barely support the weight. These tacos were some of the best fish tacos I’ve ever had, and when I went back with my friend I tested my “was it good or was I starving” test by getting the exact same thing, and loved them all over again. Go check this place out, it’s cozy and adorable and offers epic Mexican cuisine!! 

3. Bar Siena 

This might be my favorite spot on the street so far, but it also has the most options and isn’t too crazily priced so that could be a big factor! Bar Siena sits on a corner a little further down Randolph and is the perfect mix of upscale-bar and classy Italian, with a giant light-up tree in the middle growing up through the second floor that offers scenic seating of the skyline and the rest of Randy. With a menu bursting with wood fired pizza, pasta, antipasta, cheeses, and OF COURSE some fancy as heck cocktails, it’s really really really hard to decide what you want for dinner. Yet, because I’m me, both times I’ve been there I’ve ordered the same entree. Some highlights on the menu (a mix of mine and those I’ve dined with who eat meat) include: 

- Roasted Meatballs: IF I COULD EAT THESE, I WOULD. They come in a little dish of sauces, cheese, and with garlic bread on the side. Oh hellll yes. 

- Burrata: This is the best burrata I’ve ever had. On crispy toast with thick, creamy burrata and apricot jam, topped with sea salt and some crunchy nuts, it’s a 10/10 combo. Get it.

- Kale & Granny Smith Salad: It’s a good, simple salad that’s light and refreshing with so much hearty food. 

- The Prosciutto-Fig Pizza: IF I WAS A PIZZA, THIS WOULD BE ME. Even without the meat the spiced pistachio, truffle honey, and cheese on top of a perfectly baked white pizza is indulgently delicious. If I ever became a stripper, my name would be Truffle Honey in honor of this pizza. 

- Wild Mushroom & Garlic Pizza: Lots of mushrooms, lots of cream and cheese, very good. 

- SWEET CORN RAVIOLI: THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE PASTA OF MY DREAMS. CORN RAV STUFFED WITH MORE CORN, SAUCE, TRUFFLE BUTTER, MUSHROOMS, AND GOD’S LOVE. 

AND THE WINE LIST IS GREAT TOO. 

Y’all don’t skimp on dessert either; Bar Siena is attached to Bombo Bar, the small coffee shop and donut seller on the side with a walk-up window. They have the famed hot chocolate and matcha topped with a coordinating donut, biscotti or cookie, whipped cream, and sprinkles and toppings out the wazoo. They are absolutely crazy but soooo delicious and the hot coco is perfect for a cold winter day when you just want to get out of the house for a small adventure! 

Some other hits along this strip are Soho House, Kaiser Tiger, and Maude’s. Soho House is an ~elite~ club that’s in an ancient, elegant building tucked off on a side street that has a cafe and breakfast nook on the first floor which offers delicious coffee and perfect vibes for writing, reading, and girl’s talk on a rainy afternoon. Kaiser Tiger is a warehouse turned bar that’s open, loud, inviting, and has a unique menu of bratwurst and cheese plates. It’s great for a drink or to grab a nicer bite before heading to the United Center for a game! And Maude’s is somewhere that’s on my wish list- I am DYING to go get a drink in this blue & white dream! The outside is cute as a button and I imagine the inside is even better. I love having places I can’t wait to try out, it keeps this city so fresh! 

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie 

[morethanithoughtofficialblog]

Chapter 21: You like jazz?

In which you guys see a beeutiful movie.

*Sans's POV*

The universe was against me. "Sweet Child O' Mine" is a hard song that, no matter how many times I have sung it, it puts me extremely nervous. I love the song, so... I never would want to ruin it.

Now, years had passed since I quit singing in public, and the fact that their opinion matters to me... let's just say I wasn't confident at all.

It was so strange, though. The music started, the looks were on me... but I felt that I had to do it. I had this discussion with Paps earlier, and he's having a rough time with my situation... I wanted to make it up for him. I love my bro, I know he's trying to help. I don't know what I was expecting when he saw me passed out on a table. It was quite obvious that he would scold me.

And so I sang.

I never thought I would feel that... "funny" feeling if I ever got myself to sing again. Somehow, it happened. I felt great at singing the song by heart and mimicking the guitar solo in my head. And as great as the music felt, the applauses made me feel even better. It felt so... surreal.

So oddly surreal.

But I couldn't care less.

"YAY! MY BROTHER'S MUSICAL CAREER HAS RETURNED!" Papy exclaimed with a goofy grin.

"Dude, we don't even need to do votation!" Undyne surprisingly commented.

The positive comments were starting to get me. I felt like floating, like if I was in a dream. I know this must mean nothing to a lot of people... but for me? Oh, of course, it does. I was so scared to sing because their opinions matter... but I noticed that some may always provide me support. Like Papyrus.

Maybe I should try this more often.

The night continued after that, everyone deciding I was the winner. I felt like a champion, but tried not to get too attached to that title. Instead, I shrugged it off and continued to get onto everyone's nerves with my fantastic puns.

Is quite... interesting how a simple recognition can make me happy. Maybe it's because I don't get complimented often. Maybe it's because I've been seeing myself as a fucking and talentless idiot these days. Maybe, and just maybe, I was feeling more anxious than ever, and then I realized it was no use.

Eh, it could have been whatever. Not that I should really get into it.

"Now let's play... 7 minutes in heaven!" The stupid robot said, and I swear I wasn't the only one who cringed. 7 minutes in heaven is... horrible. And I would never let my brother play that horrid game. What if they had to go with Frisk? Oh, I would not be able to take it.

"Pardon my ignorance, but... what is 7 minutes in heaven?" (Y/N) asked nervously. Oh girl, you really don't want to know.

Wait, but how does she don't know? I thought this was a human-made game...

"But punk! This is a traditional sleepover game!" Undyne, having the same doubt as I, asked her. She played with her fingers and muttered that she never tend to go to sleepovers, which made my brother gasp.

"HUMAN! I SHOULD INVITE YOU MORE OFTEN, THEN! YOU JUST CAN'T WASTE THE WONDERFUL YEARS OF YOUR YOUNGHOOD WITHOUT HAVING A SUPER FUN SLEEPOVER! LESS IF IT'S WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" She chuckled lightly, a sound that definitely I would love to hear more often. She's really quiet, I just hope she was more open and confident in our friend group...

And for that, you need to stop being an asshole, Sans.

I shook my head, reminding myself how horrible my thoughts can get if I don't stop them in time. Now I had the head (or skull?) more clear, and I couldn't waste the opportunity. It's being a while- I need to focus seriously on the future while I still can.

And on the present as well.

"O-ok, so... what about if we... play another thing?" Alphys muttered, and I immediately nodded. If you can't already tell, I hate that game. It's pathetic and for flustered teenagers with a silly crush. I've never been a huge fan of that.

"Ok, ok!" Mettaton groaned, obviously angered by no choosing his horrible idea "Let's watch a movie, then!"

"THAT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, METTATON. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE SURE TO CHOOSE THE PERFECT FEATURE-LENGTH FILM FOR THIS EVENING!" Then he rushed to Tori's living room and put on that Netflix thingy. I like that site, but Youtube is better. It has more variety and more stupid things. Also, no bad jokes restrainment. Perfect for someone like me.

I lost myself into thinking in what I would possibly choose to do if Frisk doesn't reset. The timeline problem is quite a huge one, but if the world decides to be on my side, then what would be next? Getting a career? Spend the rest of my days on a bar?

Yeah, the last one doesn't seem like the best option...

One of my childhood dreams was to get on the Surface and become either a great scientist or a talented writer. Now I have the possibility to stop calling it a dream. As much as I love quantum physics, though, writing is something that still has my heart. I'm much more of a reserved guy than what everyone thinks. I may joke, I may laugh, I may strike up conversations instantly, but the real me is an introvert. And a nerd.

Maybe I can become a freaking science teacher, a formal scientist, a crazy man who invents stupid things, a bonely skeleton living with twelve dogs (because I love dogs. Fite me), or even a hotdog seller. I can be anything I want to be! ...

Dude, I sounded like a Barbie commercial.

But what I mean is that I have endless opportunities on the tip of my fingers, and I won't let them go that easily. I think that the first step would be applying to a university...

Which I already did.

I mentally facepalmed when I remembered that day. I was saying stupid puns in my head to call me down, but that wasn't working. I wasn't in my right mind and, still, I went and do a freaking three-hour exam. What a smart decision.

Well, if I'm somehow accepted, I'll throw a huge party. That involves sleeping. In my room...

Wait-no.

Ah, forget it.

I will somehow celebrate it, then. Maybe spoiling myself with a bottle of ketchup or make my sock collection bigger. Yeah, little things like that. I should not congratulate myself so much.

If I don't make it, though... then I guess there won't be any differences. Pretty much everything normal, except I won't be able to give Papyrus what I've always wanted to give him...

I need to work hard.

"EVERYONE! I THINK THAT I HAVE CHOSEN AN APPROPRIATE MOVIE FOR TODAY!" Papyrus shouted, and everyone rushed into the living room "IT'S CALLED 'BEE MOVIE'!"

Bee Movie? What kind of name is that?

We all had confused looks. Everyone except the humans, that is. Both Frisk and (Y/N) were "trying" to hold back laughter.

"is it a good movie?" I asked them, not wanting to waste my time on a shitty movie.

"Pfft-Familiar comedy" (Y/N) simply replied, smiling brightly "It's more directed to... kids. But, hey! Anyone can enjoy it!"

Something about her statement made me suspicious, but Papy believed her instantly. And so he put on the movie, and we all sat down whether on the couch or the floor.

"According to all known laws of aviation," The movie started "there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway..."

"Because bees don't care what humans think is impossible"

Oh boy.

(Y/N) stopped smirking but had this goofy and stupid grin written all over her face. If it ends up with some scary shit, I swear to God I'll kill her. We went on and watched how this guy, Barry B. Benson, graduated and had to choose a job. Everything was, well, normal, I guess... until he met that human girl. What was her name? Melissa? No... Oh! Vanessa!

When Barry daydreamed about Vanessa and him flying it was... weird, to say the least. Both human girls, though, laughed loudly. It was so stupid, I need to admit it.

The movie had puns, which I highly appreciated, but the rest of it... was stupid. That's it. Simply stupid.

I liked the "You like jazz?" part though. I should hit on someone like that. And that joke about- wait, I'll get it.

"He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, <<Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?>>"

I think that's the most hilarious and stupid joke I've heard in a while. Or well, probably in a movie. It was so stupid and so bad that I laughed. (Y/N) did as well. And Papy stared at us like we were crazy. The others were still trying to find the joke. It was amazing.

All those puns were driving everyone crazy. Well, except me. And those two weird girls. I actually didn't want to judge the adult so quickly, but if she does enjoy things like these... I may not be sure to change her nickname any sooner. I may also start to like her more, though. Serious but a dork- that's a nice personality I bet she has.

"-This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes!"

"-That's a drag queen!"

That scene, that fucking scene... it was perfect. I would be lying if I said I didn't love the movie. According to all known laws of film-making, no movie should be like this one. It was bizarre. That's why I loved it.

"How good?" That lawyer asked "Do you live together? Wait a minute... are you her little... bedbug?"

Unfortunately for me, I was drinking soda at that moment. I spit it out. At the floor, thankfully, but I still embarrassed myself. This dork, (Y/N) laughed way too loud about the incident. But hey, I can't blame her. I would have done just the same if I wasn't the victim.

"What about a suicide pact?" Barry asked Vanessa (am I seriously talking about this movie?)

"How do we do it?" She asked.

"I sting you, you step on me."

"That just kills you twice"

"Right, right"

Can't you see how stupid and amazing it is?! And after a minute I've just realized the name of that woman was Vanessa Bloome! And she was a freaking florist! There were puns everywhere! That silly and quite morbid sense of humor...

If the Bee Movie was a girl, I should have married her by now.

"So... did you enjoy the movie, guys?" Frisk asked, wearing a stupid grin.

"IT WAS WEIRD" Papyrus bluntly replied, which made all of us laugh.

"You sure do have a sense of humor, punk!" Undyne looked to (Y/N), and she just shrugged with a smile.

"the movie was beeutiful. all-time favorite" I added, and laughter filled the room again.

"it was... something" Napstablook shyly smiled, but in his face was all written: "I will never see it again". As much as we all would like to talk about it, though, Toriel came just in time to tell us that it was sleeping time. I looked over my cellphone and saw that it was, indeed, pretty late. I can't believe we were up 'till 2 am to watch something like that. Oh well. It was worth it.

We all gave each other some goodbyes and headed to any room we would want. Papyrus had somehow made his way to reclaim the second biggest room (since Tori's is the biggest) all for his own. Since the Dreemurr family cleared up one room that was messy and made it quite nicely, now everyone had a room. I was still rooting for my dad to sleep on the couch, though...

I lied down on the bed with a happy smile... that faded after minutes passed by.

I couldn't sleep.

I groaned at the thought of not sleeping again and get all grumpy in the morning. That's definitely something I've been trying to avoid (unsuccessfully...). I wanted to be there for the people I care about, but the nightmares aren't helping. So it was almost 4 am, and I wanted to waste time...

You: hey

You: u awake?

C' mon, please answer!

24/7 Depressed Dork: Yep

24/7 Depressed Dork: What's up?

Shit, I forgot I gave her that nickname...

Oh well.

You: i'm bored

You: wanna talk?

24/7 Depressed Dork: Sure

24/7 Depressed Dork: ...hmm

24/7 Depressed Dork: So how's the weather in there?

I'm starting to like this girl more.

You: eh, nothing impressive

You: just a bit chilly but, y' know

You: it doesn't affect me at all

You: after all, nothing gets under my skin

24/7 Depressed Dork: I knew you would say something like that

24/7 Depressed Dork: I could feel it in my bones

Perfect audience.

You: Knock knock

24/7 Depressed Dork: Who's there?

You: cash

24/7 Depressed Dork: cash who?

You: nah, i'll have some peanuts, thanks.

24/7 Depressed Dork: Sans, that was horrible

And before I could answer her back and tell her the opposite, she surprisingly wrote:

24/7 Depressed Dork: Knock Knock

You: wow, really?

You: ok

You: who's there?

24/7 Depressed Dork: Annie

You: annie who?

24/7 Depressed Dork: Annie thing you can do I can do better!

Oh, so you are challenging me? Interesting...

You: you think so?

You: oh, you'll see

You: knock knock

24/7 Depressed Dork: Who's there?

You: dewey

24/7 Depressed Dork: Dewey who?

You: dewey have to use a condom?

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

*Your POV*

I stared amazed at the message Sans just send me and laughed quietly. Either it's a way to flirt or just a corny joke, I enjoy those things. They are... interesting, and make you think twice. And not everyone is accessible to hear this type of jokes, less making them. He has quite the sense of humor, huh?

You: Oh, I see how it is, then

You: Knock Knock

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: who's there?

Ah, his nickname...

It's amazing, I won't change it any time sooner.

You: Ivana

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: ivana who?

You: Ivana jump your bones ;)

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: ohmygod

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: that's just way too dirty

You: You started this fight, buddy

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: i guess so

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: but two can play this game!

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: knock knock

You: Who's there?

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: hop on

You: ...

Oh my God, no.

What I have done?

You: Hop on who?

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: hop on dis dick

OHMYGODIREGRETEVERYTHINGNOW!

...

do skeletons even have a-

Calm down, don't let him see right through you.

So for some reason, I was taking this very seriously. Like if this was going to define who was the leader or some survival shit like that.

You: Okay, you asked for it

You: Knock Knock

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: who's there?

You: Pussy!

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: dude, what?

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: i don't get it

You: And you never will

You: Sucker

It was 6 am at this point, the sun was starting to get out. What do you think it's the best way to start the day? Smiling and laughing, of course. However, I don't think it was the right time for anyone to hear Sans loud laughter in ALL THE FREAKING HOUSE.

You: Sans, stfu

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: never

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: that was good

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: really good...

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: i have a joke for you

You: Bring it on

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: what is 6 inches long, 2 inches wide, and drives women wild?

We're still at the dirty jokes?

You: Sans, I swear to God...

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: a $100 bill

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: what were you thinking bud? ;)

...ok, he caught me red-handed.

You: Yeah... let's not talk about it

You: It's my turn now

You: But this time, it's a poem

You: Be ready

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: wow, you are a poet now?

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: i'm curious

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: spit it out

You: Ok, good

You: Let me start:

You: As I lay here with my legs spread

Like hot butter bleeding on stale bread. The warm insides of my cantaloupe thighs cry out in extasy as you eat my cherry pie. Visions of cucumbers often enter my mind and sometimes hot dogs, they plump when you cook 'em kind Whipped cream all covered with gooslurping green jello in the tub with you You are my world my little cupcake, I want to lick your cream filling until you ache. Your Juicy Avacadoes so plump, and so ripe.

Let's just do it in the kitchen tonight!!

I...

Got too carried away, okay?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not that dirty-minded.

Well, kinda.

I memorized a dirty poem by heart...

That it made Sans laugh really hard (wait, I think that rhymed... shit).

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: (y/n), you are my new favorite person

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: you are amazing

You: So I won?

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: definitely

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: let me just end this contest with one question

You: Go ahead

Short and Moody is my Skelebuddy: you like jazz

And I laughed like there was no tomorrow, just at how random it was and remembering Barry's face. God, I think I'm becoming more stupid than I originally thought.

I would have made a joke or two, but the consequences of laughing so hard already arrived:

"SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHY YOU AND THE HUMAN ARE LAUGHING?!" Oh shit.

"ah, s-sorry bro..."

"SANS! WHY WERE YOU TEXTING THE HUMAN WHEN WERE IN THE SAME HOUSE?! THAT'S RIDICULOUS!"

I chuckled, realizing how idiotic someone can become.

Bee Movie takes all the blame.

[acoolguyscoollife]

Chapter 3: We (Don’t) Love a Burning Town

The town smelled much like you’d expect it to, unwashed people everywhere. Surprisingly, though, it kind of blended together into something I found myself struggling to notice over everything else. The smell of the people was overpowered by fresh bread, cooking meat, and open flames. All in all, it was a nice change of pace, and in some ways even reminded me of home, except it lacked a permeating stench of urine.

Seth

What?

Cool Guy

Have you never been to London? It smells a lot like piss. Much like the smell, the look itself also reminded me of London, except from a much earlier era. The aesthetic of the game’s civilisations had always been Victorian-Era, most people wearing ragged brown clothing. In contrast to them, our group’s clothing was anachronistic and awesome, drawing a lot of glances our way as we walked into the marketplace. Each stand had someone who looked like a thirty-year chain-smoker and spoke like it, hoarse throats sounding painful just to listen to, god knows how it must have felt speaking like it. I was almost tempted to tell them to clear their throats before speaking, but the noise that they would have made would most likely have been reminiscent of a noise the Old Ones would make, summoning Cthulhu at the end of the world. Or something, I never actually read any Lovecraft after I found out what he named his cat. Kinda dodgy, honestly.

Amy

Wait, what’s his cat called?

Cool Guy

Google it.

Amy

…Oh. Oh no.

Cool Guy

While I wasn’t keen on talking to any of the people selling stuff, I couldn’t deny there was some things they were selling that I wanted to buy. Guns that had been cobbled together from scrap metal, bullets probably barely strong enough to penetrate (heh) the skin. Armour that was little more than kneepads… except duct-taped together and strung over the entire body. As stupid as it looked, it would have definitely protected from the scrap guns. And then, as if a ray of light from god had shone down onto it, I saw the stand unlike the others. It was clean, almost pristine even, and the seller matched the stall. He wore a fixed, ear-to-ear smile, and his hands were tightly knit across the surface of the stall as he looked around for a potential buyer. But I barely noticed him, despite how handsome he was, as my eyes were instead drawn to what he was selling. Two large walls of displays, as well as a glass box on the stall in front of him, had rows and rows of swords. Ranging from simple short-swords to opulent, cobalt blades, katanas, rapiers, and a darkly-coloured metal broadsword, which was the one on his back. A crimson ribbon tied around the handle blew in the wind, which I couldn’t even feel but I had a feeling it would have always blown since it was just that awesome. I wanted, no, I needed one. But I could tell from his wide-eyes that any attempts at directly stealing one would end up being flawed. Even if I knew I could run faster than he could, there was also the issue of leaving my friends. Which, to be fair, also wouldn’t be a problem if I could get out by myself. Looking around, I began to formulate a plan that would have made Pinky and the Brain jealous with the convolutedness and totally unnecessary steps involved. Barely any of the other people were watching their stand, so snagging a bottle of alcohol wasn’t that hard. A quick tap on Seth’s shoulder and a whispered request, and all I had to do was get ready. I was close enough to the stall to grab a sword, but far enough away that the man behind it wouldn’t notice me. Now I just had to wait for Seth to pretend to be a drunk and cause a commotion.

Seth

Okay, it’s safe to say I totally misread this situation. See, CG only asked me to create a distraction, and he gave me a bottle of alcohol. Sure, I enjoy a few drinks here and there… and everywhere, but getting drunk, or even faking it, wasn’t as good of an idea as what I had. From what I could see, everything was made of straw, and I had a bottle of fairly flammable liquid. A quick rip of fabric from a tarp, an open flame, and a flick of the wrist later, and I caused a distraction that I think went fairly damn well. It was only when I saw Tabitha staring at me, mouth agape, that it occurred to me that I might have screwed up.

Cool Guy

Well, honestly the plan worked, but it was a lot more of a commotion than I had liked. The seller ran out of his stall to help everyone else as they started to quell the fire, giving me ample time to run in and see what I could quickly pilfer. The katana looked nice, but so did the cobalt sword. It took a few seconds for me to realise that I could most likely have both, so I grabbed the cobalt one and threw the sheath over my back, opting to just hold the katana in my hands. A few steps into my run away, I was convinced that everything was going to go well, despite the fact the fire had quickly spread past where it had been thrown to and was pretty much engulfing the entire town. My positive thoughts were quickly stopped as the black sword slashed from seemingly nowhere, mercifully stopped by the katana I was holding in my hand. The sheath, which had been nothing more than a light fabric, fell apart, and I quickly moved it to my open hand. The merchant stood in front of me, his happy expression now replaced by rage. It didn’t help that the fire was being reflected in his eyes, as well as the fact that this dude had moved hella fast.

“You think you can steal from me? You think you can burn down my home?!” He barked. I had a sneaking suspicion he was able to tell the two events were linked.

“Would you believe me if I said this was a huge misunderstanding?” I asked, despite knowing exactly what response I would end up getting. The merchant… hell, might as well call him what he is, the swordsman readied his blade, levelling it in my direction.

“Any last words?” He asked, and I thought carefully about what I was going to say next, the laws of tropes that I’d seen in movies telling me what was going to happen after I spoke.

“I should probably warn you, I’ve watched a lot of anime…” I began, levelling the katana similarly to how he had, except diagonally.

“Children’s cartoons? That won’t save you!” The swordsman cried out before flinging himself forward at me, slashing downwards in a deadly arc. I brought the katana up, planting my feet firmly in the ground as his sword hit mine, sending sparks flying and a forceful vibration through my body.

“…I was also going to say I’ve been doing kendo for ten years.” I finished, having known that he would have attacked me before letting me finish what I said. “Unofficially, of course. I got kicked out for testicle kicks.” I added, before kicking him in the testicles. I had kind of hoped I wouldn’t have subjected another man to that kind of torture, but then again, I did foreshadow it like five seconds before doing it. That was ample time to react. Not my fault this guy’s a dummy. To the guy’s credit, he composed himself quickly, only brief tears visible in his eyes. A horizontal slash from him caused me to jump back, bumping against a crate that I quickly jumped onto. “It’s over, swordsman. I have the high ground.” I quipped, wondering if he would be cliché (or in the know) enough to respond with the appropriate line.

“You underestimate my power.” He returned, making me slightly giddy inside. “Hiding behind sunglasses, the truth of your eyes concealed from everyone. Who are you to call yourself the victor?” He growled, swiping at me again and pushing me higher up the stack of crates. I moved my katana arm to block some of the swipes, trying to use the force to push him back down, but it seemed like the Star Wars stuff was at its limit with one-liners.

“I’m Cool Guy, the coolest guy you’ll ever meet. And also the last, depending on what happens next.” I stuck my chest out in a triumphant pose, which I had to quickly drop to avoid being spit-roasted by his sword. The clangs of our swords rang out across the burning town, which just reminded me of a different game entirely. A quick leap to the top of a stall, and I was able to see a lot more of the town than I had before. That fire had spread very quickly, despite Tabitha’s best efforts. Seth was just watching in awe, moving from foot to foot as if he wanted to jump in and help but couldn’t. I kept looking, trying to find Amy, but couldn’t see her anywhere. I hoped that she was safe, for a brief moment before getting knocked onto my ass and remembering that I was much less safe than she was. The swordsman’s dark-bladed sword was aimed at my neck, and any movement I made was sure to be the death of me. For a moment, I thought the swordsman was going to ask if I had any last words, but he shook it off, seemingly thinking better of it. Smart, but not exactly what I wanted. He moved his sword to the side, giving me Game of Thrones flashbacks, when a shrill whistle pierced through the air. Much like the whistle, a shrill throwing knife pierced through the swordsman’s arm, causing him to drop the sword and leaving me with an opening. I rolled onto my back, and kicked out with both legs, hitting him right in his weak spot. Again. That time, he had no warning, but it was his balls or my life, and I knew which one I preferred. I looked over to who had thrown the sword, and saw Amy juggling the knives. “Hell yeah, a deus ex machina!” I yelled with excitement, rolling off of the stand and onto the sandy floor. Seth ran over, and Amy jumped down from the crate she had stood on to be high enough to see us, and Tabitha joined us after a moment.

“What the actual hell, you two?!” She yelled, looking at both me and Seth. Looking around, I could see why she was mad. The fire had definitely reached the point of uncontrollable now.

“…Free sword?” I said finally, showing her the sword I had taken. She opened her mouth to yell again, sighed, and smacked her hand against her face, groaning through her fingers.

“Well, we’re outlaws now, so I suggest we get the hell out of here.” She said through gritted teeth, and I pointed to the exit to the marketplace, a coarse stone wall with an archway we could leave through. Tabitha led the way, Seth following closely behind her going through multiple apologies, Amy behind him giggling as she watched the carnage in the town unfold. I took up the rear (hehehe) of the group, jogging slightly to keep up with the rest of them. None of the other townsfolk were attempting to stop us, instead just watching as we made our way out of the town. I skidded to a stop just outside the archway, turning on my heel and looking at the people who were all watching me. It was cliché, but I had to do it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you will remember this as the day you almost caught-” I would have finished my reference, had Tabitha not doubled back solely to hit me across the head with an open palm. “-gak.” I finished, which really undermined the entire epic outlaw theme I had been trying to go for, and I instead opted to straighten my glasses, flash them a coy smile, and run away before they realised that I was exhausted and they could have very easily taken me. I may be awesome, but even I can be bested.