#i like how she specifies it's 'most casinos' and not all casinos

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 8 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: The sound of no longer distant wedding bells loom in the air as the reality of Gloria's new life with Michael closes in on her.

Note: Pre-Cana is a retreat or series of courses that couples getting married in the Catholic Church attend (it varies by parish or diocese). It’s basically pre-marriage counseling from a Catholic perspective. Also, the novel doesn’t specify which battle Michael was wounded in, just that Life magazine ran the article on him at some point in 1944 and he was discharged in early 1945 after Vito bribed a military doctor to say Michael was too badly wounded for him to return to combat. With this in mind, I’m going with Peleliu, which would make the most sense considering the vague canon timeline and its high wounded and casualty rates.

Warnings: Descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, mainly morning sickness.

Chapter 7 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

The moka pot on the stovetop hissed at Gloria while she was looking at the showtimes for Rio Bravo listed in that morning’s issue of Newsday. Grabbing a pen, she circled a few evening showings to present to Michael. If they got out of Pre-Cana early enough, they could catch a screening of it on the way to pick up the kids from her parents’ house.

Her elbow knocked against the espresso glasses she’d set out on the counter as she moved the moka pot off of the flame and onto a free burner. One of them nearly rolled onto the floor, but she managed to catch it just in time.

The espresso glasses were a brand new crystal set she’d bought at Lord & Taylor not long after they’d moved into the Long Beach house, making the drive upshore to Manhasset with Sandra. They were technically shot glasses, but the shop assistant in the housewares department enthusiastically assured her the glasses could withstand hotter temperatures. So far, they’d held up to the three or four small pots of espresso being made in the Corleone household each day. 

Michael always drank some in the morning and then in the afternoons, usually an hour or two after lunch. Al took his with sambuca, as did Connie. Sandra drank hers black and piping hot, and Tom sometimes drank his cortado, though he didn’t drink espresso after 11am, claiming the caffeine would keep him up all night otherwise. Ciro drank his with lemon, and Dominic, Al’s protegee and another newer face around the house, would drink his straight, unless Al was around, and he’d add sambuca, too. Anthony had even started drinking espresso, acquiring a taste for it at her parents’ house and shocking her and Michael one morning when he asked for some. 

Making espresso for everyone was one of the few ways Gloria was actually helpful in the kitchen, otherwise leaving the cooking to one of the Corleones or their maid, Margaret. The older woman had patiently taught Gloria how to cook Michael’s preferred breakfast of poached eggs and toast so she could make it when Margaret was off on the weekends.

Al Neri had let himself in, quietly, as he normally did, though his near silent arrival didn’t startle Gloria anymore.

“Morning, Al. Michael hasn’t come down yet. Espresso’s fresh, though. Help yourself.”

Al nodded. “Thanks, Gloria.”

“Have you eaten? I’m gonna make eggs when Michael comes down, and I think we have some leftovers from last night in the fridge.”

She’d already had a plate of cold ziti for breakfast herself. 

Gloria couldn’t concentrate on cooking for long enough to get any good at it, finding each step of the process mind-numbingly boring and would get distracted if she felt like something was taking too long to chop or boil or whatever she was supposed to do with the ingredients. One of the benefits of working with the casino’s restaurant in Vegas was getting free meals from the kitchen, usually extra food or untouched meals the picky patrons had sent back. Except to make coffee or heat up leftovers from work, she rarely ventured into her kitchen when living on her own.

Espresso took only a few minutes to brew, though, and she could multitask while keeping an eye on the pot. 

He shook his head. “I got a sandwich from that deli by my place on the way here.”

Al had bought a house in Lynbrook with the move, only a twenty minute drive from them, less if traffic wasn’t too bad. His place turned out to be about ten minutes from her parents’ house in Rosedale, which made Michael feel better about letting the kids spend the night there sometimes. Gloria liked Long Beach, though, especially since summer was rapidly approaching and some of the seasonal places were starting to open up.

“Do you go to the movies?” she asked, eyes flicking back to the showtimes in the paper on the counter.

“Not in a long time,” he said.

“I was thinking of asking Michael to take me.”

“Ask me to take you where?” Michael asked, walking into the kitchen and giving Gloria a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Al.”

“To the movies. We should go see Rio Bravo.”

“Isn’t that a Western? You don’t like Westerns.”

“I like Ricky Nelson,” she said. “We haven’t been to the movies since we saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof last year.”

He conceded more easily than she expected. “Alright, darling. How about after Pre-Cana? We can get dinner and then go to the movies since your parents are watching the kids today.”

“Great! Oh, let me get your breakfast ready. Are you sure you’re not hungry, Al?” she asked.

He shook his head, opting for his espresso.

Michael poured himself some, and Gloria got to work on making his breakfast. The toast was easy enough, but she always felt like she could do a little better on the poached eggs. Though if Michael thought so, he never said anything to her. 

Gloria wasn’t sure what to expect from Pre-Cana. Michael hadn’t taken it with Kay since they didn’t have a Catholic wedding, and the concept was brand new when Jackie and Vivian had gotten married. The church secretary at St. Catherine’s said it wasn’t exactly a requirement, but strongly encouraged, which meant that if they wanted to keep their late August wedding date, they better go.

As soon as she scooped the poached eggs from the boiling water, the scent hit her nose in an unfamiliar, nauseating way, and she clumsily dropped the egg on top of the slice of toast, gagging as she did so.

Michael and Al shared a perplexed look as Gloria ran past them into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. 

She could hardly look at the contents of the toilet, promptly flushing it. A knock at the door startled her, though she should have expected Michael to check on her when she made such a scene.

“Gloria? Are you alright?”

“Yeah I—just give me a minute.” She clumsily grabbed a bottle of mouthwash beneath the sink, filling her mouth with the burning mint taste and spitting it out into the sink. She washed her hands, accidentally splashing the mirror with water when Michael abruptly opened the bathroom door.

“What made you sick?” he asked, concern evident in his features as he took in the burst blood vessels in her face, leaving the skin splotchy and her usual eyebags even darker.

“Maybe someone left the milk out too long,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she dried her hands. “I put it in my coffee earlier, and it smelled a little weird.”

Michael was silent, staring at her for a moment before seemingly accepting her explanation. “Should I call the parish and ask them to reschedule our Pre-Cana?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna sit outside. Get some air.” Because the mere thought of being in the room as those fucking eggs nearly made her gag again. 

She knew Michael was watching her from the window as she made her way to one of the patio chairs next to the vegetable garden. It had been his late father’s hobby in his retirement. Everyone who lived there since had kept it up in one way or another, all friends of the family, Michael had told her. As the house had never gone to strangers, they tended to the garden in Vito’s honor. Tom’s wife Theresa usually busied herself with it. Gloria helped once in a while, though she could tell Theresa didn’t care much for her and only made polite conversation whenever she was around. Perhaps Gloria’s presence served as a reminder of her husband’s infidelity with her own sister-in-law, unless Theresa really didn’t know, and disliked Gloria on the principle of her having been Michael’s mistress. Regardless, Gloria certainly wasn’t one to snitch on such a situation, and she had no qualms about keeping whatever secrets she needed to from whichever Corleone she needed to.

Gloria kept secrets from Michael even after he told her about Apollonia. Hers was about his other ex-wife, the one who he probably wished were dead. Instead, Kay was back in New England, just outside of Hartford, to be exact. Gloria had gotten the address from Connie, who’d been keeping in touch with her former sister-in-law. Using her parents’ house as the return address, Gloria had sent Kay the colorful crafts Anthony and Mary had made in school for Mother’s Day earlier that month.

Trying to hide an almost certain pregnancy from him was becoming a near impossible task. She looked at the tomatoes growing in their vines, green in the late spring and soon to be ripe and red in the coming weeks. Michael would be glad she was pregnant, she had no doubt about that. It was exactly what he wanted, and just what she dreaded.

She brought her fingers to her temples in an attempt to massage out the dull headache that emerged. The screen door opened, and she didn’t bother to see who’d come outside. Michael stood next to her, his shadow shielding her from the sunlight that exacerbated her headache. 

He handed her a glass of water. “Your head must be killing you.”

Gloria downed the water, cool droplets spilling from the corners of her mouth but paying it to mind. She set the glass down, wiping her face with the back of her hand, acutely aware of the way Michael was staring at her, deep in thought as he took in the state of her again.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I called the parish anyway, the secretary said there’s one we can go to next weekend. Think you’re up for a movie?” he asked. 

She smiled. “I think I can manage that.”

“I checked the paper, we can go to the screening at two, get an early dinner, and then go to your parents’.”

“Alright, I’m gonna take a nap, then. Wake me by one if I’m not up?”

He nodded, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. “Get some rest, darling.”

The first thing Gloria did when she got to the master suite was brush her teeth, avoiding her reflection. How long would it be before she began losing teeth? She knew plenty of women who’d experienced that or hair loss or brittle bones, all a result of the baby leeching nutrients from its host. 

When she got into bed, she buried her face in her pillow and screamed. So much had changed already, and the moment Michael caught wind she was pregnant, her life as she knew it would be his. There was no more hiding it, though, no possible way when there were eyes on her at all times. Every one of her soon-to-be in-laws were undyingly loyal to him in addition to the men he had at his disposal. Hell, he probably already knew.

Michael couldn’t have woken her up to go to the movies soon enough. Not that she figured she’s gotten any sleep anyway, too caught up in her thoughts to actually rest. But she needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. Maybe it’d be easier to tell him if they were in public, and she had to keep her composure.

In the theater, she focused on the movie, tried to enjoy herself despite Ricky Nelson not singing nearly as much as she’d hoped and her not caring much for Westerns to begin with. Michael had taken the time to go with her, though, and was trying to salvage the day so it wasn’t totally lost. His devotion, his attention was overwhelming at times, especially when so much of it belonged to her. 

“I still don’t like Westerns, but I like that song Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson did,” she said as they walked out of the movie theater.

Michael nodded. “Dean Martin’s always good.”

“Did you get a chance to see him when he did that show with Jerry Lewis at the casino? What was it, four years ago now? It was a riot.”

“I did. Kay and I went.”

Right. Gloria hadn’t been scheduled to work the three days Michael and Kay were there. She didn’t see him for nearly a month after that and figured their affair of nearly a year was over, surprised it had even gone on that long. No hard feelings, no love lost, fun while it lasted. Then he returned to Las Vegas on business, something Fredo had avoided telling her in what he perceived as an attempt to spare her feelings. She was friendly when she and Michael crossed paths in the casino’s lounge. Less than an hour after she was off the clock, they were up in that hotel room again.

Thinking about Las Vegas felt like watching a movie itself, as though it were someone else’s life entirely. She still longed for it from her invisible cage of domesticity and privately mourned for it as if it were the greatest love of her life. Maybe it was.  

“Anywhere specific you wanna eat?” Michael asked. 

Gloria cleared her throat. “Maybe we could try that restaurant up the street, the one with the seashell on the sign? I’ve never been, but Janine was saying it’s good.”

“Who’s Janine?”

“Michael, she lives two houses down from us.”

“The Avon lady?”

Among their neighbors, Gloria liked Janine the most. She didn’t mind Gloria hanging out at her house a few days a week and was pretty good company. Her house wasn’t pristinely tidy, and she’d sometimes get tipsy on sherry by 3pm and end up ordering Chinese takeout or making TV dinners for her family. Or maybe it had something to do with Gloria buying something every time a new Avon catalog came out. 

Gloria laughed. “Yeah, her. Mary’s going to her daughter Diana’s birthday party next month. She and my mom already picked out a gift.”

“Alright, let’s try it.”

“She said they have good Salisbury steak.”

“Salisbury steak? You must be feeling better from this morning.”

“I’m starving, actually.”

The few handfuls of popcorn she had in the theater certainly wasn’t enough to make up for two missed meals. Her stomach rumbled as they neared the restaurant, the smell of its kitchen mixed with the nearby sea breeze oddly enough to smell delicious in the moment. It wasn’t crowded for four in the afternoon on a Saturday. They were seated in a booth by a window that had a decent view of the beach.

“I’ll have a club soda, and she’ll have a rum and coke,” Michael said to the waiter.

Gloria shook her head. “Just a Coke for me, actually.”

Michael’s eyes shot over to his fiance, Gloria avoiding his gaze and playing with the corner of the tablecloth. The waiter took the hint to leave the couple alone, mumbling about giving them more time to look over the menu.

By the time Gloria let out a shaky breath, she knew he’d put two and two together, probably had since that morning. It wasn’t any easier for her to say it. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?” he asked.

“My period’s a few weeks late.”

“You’re scared,” he observed softly.

“I’ve never done this before,” she half-joked.

He reached over the table, taking one of her hands firmly in his. “You and our son will want for nothing. The best doctors are a phone call away.” When he noticed this didn’t seem to assuage her nerves, he added, “I’ll be with you through all of it.”

“I know you will.”

“Then you have no reason to worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Monday morning I want you to make an appointment to be sure.”

“I sure feel like I can eat for two,” Gloria said.

Michael smiled. “Then go ahead and order for two.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, seeming to wait until the intense discussion was over. He gave them another few minutes to look at the menu, and suddenly, Gloria wanted to order everything. Even asking Michael what he was getting, a grilled pork chop with green beans, didn’t help narrow down her options.

Gloria’s Salisbury steak came with two sides, and she chose mashed potatoes and creamed spinach after some internal debate. Before the waiter could walk back to the kitchen, she ordered a plate of grilled scallops, too. One of the things she had missed about living in New York when she was in Vegas was the fresh seafood.

“What do you think of Ciro looking after you?” Michael asked as he cut into his grilled pork chop. “Just whenever you leave the house, to be safe.”

“I like Ciro,” she said. “He’s nice. Kept a close eye on us during the bachelorette party.”

“Good. I trust him,” he said. “How are the scallops?”

She nodded her approval, sliding the plate toward him while chewing a chunk of steak she’d shoved in her mouth. As far as she was concerned, Salisbury steak and hamburger steak were the same thing, but for some reason, it felt like the greatest meal she’d ever eaten. Some of it was relief from not trying to hide her pregnancy from Michael anymore, even though she dreaded the thought of what the following eight months would involve. 

She glanced over at Michael. For all the rotten luck or poor decision-making in the world, he chose the one Sicilian girl without a maternal bone in her body. Then again, he always saw something in her no one else seemed to, and it even left her at a loss sometimes. For his sake, she hoped the baby was a boy, but personally had no preference and was already thinking of how often she could pass child-rearing responsibilities onto her mother. At least buying stuff for the kid and redecorating one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery would be fun. 

“I should get decaf, shouldn’t I?” Gloria mused aloud when they finished their meals, ready to order coffee.

Michael nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“That stuff’s awful.”

“It’s only a few months.”

“God, and I won’t even be able to drink at the wedding,” she lamented.

“Don’t worry, most of our guests will drink more than enough for the both of us.”

“How crazy is it gonna be?”

“I’d be surprised if there were less than two hundred people there.”

“Jesus,” Gloria whispered. “Is that including family?”

“Yours and mine, and then some acquaintances and business associates as well. I figured since we’re having the reception at the house, it wouldn’t hurt to invite the neighbors.”

“Really?”

“Like you said when we first moved in, they’ll notice if we’re antisocial. Just remember to keep them at arms’ length.”

The drive from the restaurant to her parents’ house felt oddly long for a weekend, but it gave her a chance to actually think about the wedding for the first time in a while. Connie and Sandra had taken on most of the wedding planning duties of their own volition, with Gloria in charge of picking out her dress, the cake, and a band to play at the reception. The latter was a task she took seriously, wanting to find a group that could play music to her tastes and also to that of the plethora of old school Sicilians who’d expect to hear a tarantella or two at some point during the celebration.

Gloria was relieved to see Vivian’s car in her parents’ driveway when Michael pulled up. Having Jackie and Vivian around always lowered the tension between her parents and Michael. Vivian liked him well enough, even though they’d butt heads at times. Jackie and Michael carried on friendly conversations on their own. Gloria wasn’t sure what she’d have done if Jackie disliked her fiance the way their father did.

“Hey Mike,” Jackie said, shaking Michael’s hand when they walked inside.

Michael smiled. “Good to see you, Jackie.”

“Hi Michael,” Jack said. “The kids are upstairs painting with Julia.”

“I’ll go see what they’re up to,” Michael said. “The kids love that craft room.”

Jack smiled. “Good, we’re glad to have them over any time.”

Michael disappeared upstairs, and Gloria followed her family into the living room, declining Vivian’s offer for coffee. Might as well try to be responsible, though if she’d known the shot of espresso she drank earlier that morning would be her last for the better part of a year, she would have savored it more. Or at least tried harder not to throw it up.

“How was Pre-Cana?” Jack asked.

“I got sick this morning, so we’re gonna go next weekend.”

“Again?” Julia asked as she made her way downstairs.

“It was some spoiled milk. I’m fine. We’re going next weekend, wedding’s still on, nothing to be concerned about,” Gloria said.

“We just got the invitation in the mail. You can mark us as a definite yes,” Vivian said. “How many people are going to be there?”

“The guest list was a little over two hundred fifty people long, last I heard.”

“Two hundred fifty,” Julia repeated. “Jack, did you hear that? I don’t think we had more than thirty at ours, both our families combined.”

“That’s because theirs isn’t gonna be all family,” Jack said. “Your fiance’s business associates, I’m sure.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Vivian scolded, trying to keep the heat off Gloria.

“Oh, Gloria, that’s shameful if he uses your wedding day as a front for all of that,” Julia objected.

Jack scoffed. “What else is it for? A cover for all of those people slinking about for their debts and favors. Just watch, you’ll be surprised at who shows up for his generosity .”

“You two are ridiculous,” Gloria said. “That’s not what it’s going to be like at all.”

She actually didn’t know what the hell the wedding was going to be like, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Michael’s work did keep him away for some of the reception. Because there were things pertinent to running an olive oil importing company that required him to step away from family events for hours at a time. Even if he spent the day glued to her side, she was sure her parents would find something to pick apart.

Frustrated, she headed outside and couldn’t light a cigarette fast enough. Jackie followed her, though he kept his distance, standing closer to the back door than she was. 

“Hey,” Jackie said. “Everything alright?”

“Just mom and dad being jerks about Michael and the wedding.”

“They’ll come around. He’s not a bad guy.”

“You really like him?”

“I don’t know what he does for a living, and I don’t really care. All I know is, this guy got transferred to my company after he got wounded on Peleliu. That article came out just before Christmas in ‘44. We got the magazines with these shitty rock-hard cookies that had nuts in them. But he said Michael was a good captain, saved his life. Some guys said it was a real shame he got discharged before Okinawa. They really admired him.”

Gloria took a long drag from her cigarette, letting out a shaky exhale. In nearly fifteen years, that was the most Jackie had said to her about his time overseas. All she knew was that he was with the First Marines and didn’t write many letters home, but when he did, it seemed like he was always on a different island and had less and less to say. After he returned to New York, he’d answer her questions with one-word responses or pretend he didn’t hear her at all. 

She learned not to take his avoidance of the topic personally, though it took a while. The only person who knew the most about what Jackie experienced, besides the men he fought with–few of whom he kept in touch with over the years–was Vivian. In that case, Gloria didn’t pry, not wanting to pressure her sister-in-law to betray her brother’s confidence.

“Why is this the first time you’re telling me about it?”

“It wasn’t exactly a fucking vacation, Gloria.”

“I know that. Michael’s told me enough about it to have a clue. That’s why I talked to him in the first place five years ago, and that’s how I ended up back here. Because I wanted to understand what happened to you, but you shut me out.”

“What was I supposed to say to you back then? You were a thirteen-year-old kid!”

“I don’t know! Just…something. I missed you so much, Jackie, and it was like you left and never came back.”

“I didn’t. That’s what you have to understand, Gloria. Alright? Michael–he got fucking shot and came out of it better than most guys I know. Whatever the hell he does, he’s good at it. It’s like he can put his emotions in a box and leave them there. That’s why he’s good for you.”

“Compartmentalize.”

“What?”

“The emotions in a box thing. He compartmentalizes.”

“There you go.”

Gloria stubbed out her cigarette on her heel. “I’m glad you like him. I don’t think mom and dad ever will, though.”

“All that mob stuff’s true, huh?”

“He doesn’t tell me a lot, but probably.”

“I bet the cops are gonna be all over the wedding.”

“Oh, I can just see dad telling them all the details now.”

Jackie snickered. “It’ll be fine.”

“With two hundred fifty people there? Fat chance.”

#michael corleone x oc #michael corleone x ofc #the godfather #michael corleone #the godfather x oc #the godfather fanfic #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather part ii #bruised fruit fic

[starlling-writes]

I Planned For... Well, Not This

The plan was to commit a heist of a lifetime. In the city of the corrupt, in the biggest casino. They each had their big part to play, even Cyrus. But you can only plan for so much. And Cyrus—he didn’t plan for most of his night out in Kymal.

Rating: T Contains: swearing, violence, some suggestive dialogue Words: 5400

Writing Masterlist

The plan was for Cyrus to find something explosive to help break the skydeck from the building. When his brother first told him the idea, it sounded perfectly achievable. In a city with a reputation for attracting the corrupt, how hard could it be to obtain some explosives? Between his charms and the bit of money he just won playing cards, this would be a piece of cake.

That’s what our dear, sweet himbo thought, anyway.

The market was easy enough to find. It was far grander than anyone made it out to be. Finding what they needed might take more time than Cyrus had thought… Time was ticking; he better get started.

He wove his way past the stalls. This wouldn’t be something so out in the open, would it? he wondered. He had no idea what explosives looked like or cost. Hopefully whatever venders he approached would be endeared by his doltishness and pity him instead of fleece him.

Cyrus picked a weapons stall and approached the seller. “Do you know where I could get something… explosive?” he asked and pantomimed an explosion.

The vendor—a burly dwarven woman with more gnarly, visible scars than Cyrus had years—gave him a once-over. He was sorely out of place. It didn’t help that his tone was so bright for someone asking for lethal. What the kid wanted them for when tensions were high, she didn’t dare ask. She let out a single, gruff laugh. “None here. Try an alchemist.”

“Oh, thank you.” He turned and started to leave, but stopped short. Whipping back around he asked, “Which way would one be?”

She raised a brow as she stared at him, dumbfounded. How had this boy not been eaten alive here yet? She sighed then threw him a bone, “Take a left out of here. Keep going until you see a florist. They’re a bit tucked to the right side, about an eight-minute walk down. Go in there and go straight out the back. The alley is rough,” she specified and eyed his nice outfit, “but it’s the only way to get to Zaphi’s. Go left down the alley but stick to the right wall. There is a split that’s easy to miss. Eventually you’ll exit into a small pocket. Zaphi’s shop is the only thing there. Say Merovecht sent ya.”

A flamed burned in Cyrus’s eyes. “Left, flowers, left, right, Merovecht. Got it. Thank you.” He whipped back around and floated off, chanting the shortened instructions under his breath.

A stroke of luck sent the scent of flowers on an errant breeze to help him find the florist quickly. He politely ducked in and out the back. Merovecht was right; the alley was rough. Though it wasn’t the worst one Cyrus had found himself in since misfortune sunk its teeth into him. If things went well tonight, hopefully this would be the last dark, dank alley he had to skulk through.

Left again.

The alley was narrow and filled with all sorts of junk; not to mention a lot of liquids and questionably furry things that Cyrus really didn’t want to think about. Despite the obstacles, he managed to forge onward. Barely. His cloak snagged on a crooked nail. He hit his head on a half-fallen beam. He tripped and fell forward right into one of the puddles with dubious furry bits that he had been desperately trying to avoid. Perhaps this was the worst alley he had been in—what he would give to go back and enjoy that spa in The Maiden’s Wish. With his countenance compromised, he shudderingly put his right hand along the wall to make sure he didn’t miss the right path.

The minutes started adding up. Cyrus worried he messed up somewhere along the line. Or had been tricked. Just before he admitted defeat, the alley let out into a small alcove. The space was no more than ten feet in any direction. Across from the alley’s mouth was a crooked, wooden archway with a faded curtain pulled to one side. A feint glow escaped from within. It was the only sign of someone might be there; the only sounds were the muffled hubbub from the main shops. Cyrus began wishing that at least one of the others had come with him.

“What can I do for you, kid?” a smoke-scratched voice asked over his shoulder.

Cyrus yelped, whirled around stumbling a bit, and looked up at the goliath consuming the entire alleyway, preventing any kind of escape. Why did it feel like he just made the last mistake of his life? Hopefully his charms would get him out of this alive. “Ah! Hello there. I was told that, um, I could get some…” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “explosives… from you.”

The corner of their nose scrunched up briefly—were they sneering or sniffing? “Oh yeah? And who was it exactly that said I had these explosives?” They whispered the last word mockingly.

“Right. Merovecht sent me.”

“Merovecht, huh?” They crossed their arms. A sharp jerk of their head left and then right, cracked their neck in a way that sounded like it broke. It made Cyrus’s skin crawl. “Well, I guess I should thank her for your patronage.” This was feeling more and more like a threat to our decreasingly naïve prince. They clapped a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “Come. I’ll show you some explo–” They cut off short, their words turning into a groan as they doubled over. They stumbled to the side, one hand cradling their groin, the other bracing the wall.

Standing in their previous place was now a disgruntled, though strikingly gorgeous, human. When she was done starring daggers at the goliath, her eyes snapped to Cyrus. He had a flash of understanding of the concept terrified yet turned on. “You didn’t keep right,” she accused, raising her eyebrows judgingly.

“What? Of course I did,” Cyrus floundered defensively. Mentally he cursed himself; he knew he’d mess up at some point tonight.

She rolled her eyes. “Mervecht would’ve neve' sent you here. She and Verkeerd have had a grudge for years. Dropping her name is only gonna get you robbed dead.” She marched over to Verkeerd, tossed a sack at his feet, then snatched the coin purse from their hip. After giving the coins a quick count, she gave Cyrus another look over. “You said you were looking for explosives, right?”

“Yes?” He wasn’t fully trusting of her, but he had no other leads.

“Look.” She closed the distance between them, standing familiarly close—she kept looking him over too. “If you could help me out tonight and help me earn a bit of money, I’ll get you some good explosives. Deal?”

“Deal—wait. What do I have to do?”

“Are you good at fightin’?”

Pretty boy started to get flirty. “I can hold my own,” he said.

She didn’t trust that he could throw her further as she could him, but he was the best bet she was getting tonight—at the very least, he’d might be a hot hookup after a bath. “So… is that a yes?”

“Yes, of course. Shall we go?” He flashed a smile and motioned for her to lead the way.

And so, instead of retracing his steps and following the instructions already given to him, he followed this mysterious, new beauty to aid her whims tonight.

Despite her being in high heels, she navigated the precarious alley and streets better than he could. It made him think of Opal; quite a few things about her made him think of Opal—confidence, attitude, her own sharp sense of style. Plus, all the looks she kept throwing his way.

“So, what do you need money for? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She groaned in annoyance then spoke venom. “My fuckin’ ex vanished when we were in the middle of a job. Bitchass left me and stuck me with a massive debt that I need to hurry and repay.”

“That’s horrible.” Cyrus had half the thought to offer her some of the loot they were going to nab tomorrow but—thankfully—he stopped himself. He didn’t know how much money was in that vault. And between his high bounty, and the fact they had to share their spoils with someone else already, he wasn’t sure he could offer such help to her. He couldn’t afford chivalry this time. But the knowledge he was currently on his way to help her get money assuaged his growing guilt. “I hope you’ve at least had better luck with partners since then.”

She threw a knowing glance at him. “I haven’t had any partners since. At least not any for more than a night or two.”

With it blatantly obvious they were both interested in hooking up, they continued on in silence—because why at least exchange names when you can just make it known how horny you are?

The mysterious woman led them out of the market and towards the Wishing Well. The casino wasn’t their destination though. They snaked through the alleys beside it and stopped at a crossway. She spoke aloud in a language Cyrus didn’t understand. He glanced around. He didn’t notice anyone, but she had to be talking to someone. Right? A moment passed without anything happening. Then the ground beneath them started to rumble. He jumped back in surprise. The stones parted and revealed a staircase descending into total darkness.

“Come on,” was all she said before heading down.

Did he continue to trust her? Did he follow her into the dark unknown in the hopes that she’ll uphold her end of their deal and give him explosives? Did he let her beauty completely cloud his sense of self-preservation?

Yes. Because the Wyvernwind brothers were like that more often than not.

The stairs were narrow, fitting only one person at a time. Thankfully it was also straight, so Cyrus didn’t struggle keeping his feet in the darkness. Light started to bloom ahead of them and soon the stairs opened into a wider, lit hallway. A roguish individual leaned against one of the side walls; they watched them closely as the passed.

Cyrus leaned in close and whispered to her, “So what exactly are we doing?”

“Beast fighting,” she answered with no care for secrecy.

“Okay… and how exactly do these beast fights work? Are we just betting on fights?” The memory of what she asked him earlier jumped to the front of his mind. Dread rapidly settled in. “Am I going to have to fight a beast?”

“You’ll take a polymorph potion and be turned into a random beast. I’ll handle all the betting. Hopefully, Avandra favors us tonight—and I guess Kord.” Quieter, she sneered, “If the gods even feel like giving any of us their attention.”

 “There—there are healers there, right?”

She loudly scoffed at him. “Fights end once you’re knocked out of polymorph. Besides residual aches and phantom pains, there’s gonna be noth’n to heal. Well… unless your opponent gets a really good last hit. Then some of the damage might carry over as you detransform.”

Cyrus made a small, whimpering sound. But it was lost under the growing chatter from up ahead.

They finally arrived at the arena.

There were a lot more people than Cyrus expected—there was a lot more space too. It was an underground amphitheater that had similar vibes to the West Run. Was this apart of it? Considering the path they took to get here, Cyrus doubted it. But what did he know. It was likely built at the same time, originally a deep, underground part of it, but was now sealed off and used by the bands of rogues for their own gambling schemes.

His eyes caught on the five figures in the center of the pit. Three of them chatted like they were old friends who did this often. One was on edge, sitting off to the side on a stool, his leg jittering like a woodpecker. The last one was leaning against the wall, flirting with a few of the attendees leaning over the edge.

“Hey!” his companion yelled at him as she snapped her fingers in front of his face to catch his attention. “Come on. We gotta regista’ you.” She grabbed and dragged him off by the arm.

Heads turned and eyes lingered as they wove their way through. There was a mix of curiosity, threats, disinterest, and interest. None of it was making Cyrus feel remotely better about what he was about to be thrown into.

His still-unnamed companion handled his registration. When that was done, he was escorted to the pit. Before he went in, the woman stopped him and leaned in close. “Listen… Thanks again for doing this. I really need this money, so… do your best, alright.”

“With you cheering me on, how could I lose?”

His flirting caught her off guard; she laughed. “Save the charm for when ya win.” She stole a quick kiss before shoving him towards the pit. He stumbled back, smiling at her. A few other people around them whooped and jeered him. Flustered, Cyrus turned away and went down near the other combatants. They looked him over but continued as they were. Ten minutes later, the last two fighters joined the pit.

A wave of cheers filled the room. An assistant walked out and had them each pull lots as magic amplified the MC’s opening speech. Cyrus rolled the stone over and over in his hand. Then, as the MC prompted, the fighters held out their hands. A wave of magic swirled around them and numbers burned in the air above each stone, revealing their positions in the fighting bracket. Cyrus was number five. First bets finished up as the fighters took turns selecting their polymorph potions.

“Fighters, to your circles!” the MC declared. They all went to their respectively numbered magic circles along the perimeter. With a bit of flair, they activated the circles to contain the fighters until it was their time to fight. “And now… time to transform. Fighters! Take. Your. Potions!”

The crowd roared again. Each fighter downed their potion and turned into a different beast. Second bets poured in, both for the primary wave and the overall winner.

First fight was a giant boar verses a brown bear. Their containment spells dropped the moment the MC yelled fight. They both charged forward. The bear made the first strike. They landed a bite but missed a claw swipe when the boar pulled away. The boar threw their head to the side, attempting to jab the bear with their tusk. But they missed. Again, the bear could only get one bite in, deepening the wound they already created. Writhing in pain, the boar finally managed to jab the bear with their tusk. It wasn’t a strong attack, but at least they got one hit in before the bear chomped them, knocking them out. The bear dropped the limp body then turned and roared at the audience, triumphant. But they took their win prematurely. Their opponent had been downed, but not detransformed—giant boars were resilient after all. The boar staggered to their feet, barely hanging on. While the bear was distracted, thinking the cheers from the crowd were still singing their praise, the boar backed up then charged them. They hit the bear hard and knocked them prone. Breathing heavily, the boar screamed at the bear in a last act of defiance. To no surprise, the bear finished off the boar and the fighter reverted to their normal form.

Second fight was between a crocodile and dire wolf. The cheers of the crowd quickly turned into boos and yells of, “Come on!” and “Hit him already!” as the croc couldn’t catch the agile wolf, and the wolf didn’t know how to deal with the croc’s scaly hide. As the wolf tried to break past the croc’s rough skin, they tripped and plopped onto their back. This granted the croc an easy hit. With a yelp of pain, the wolf was quick to retaliate. The crowd’s cheers began to shift into amusement—but the joy was short lived. The damn fight quickly returned to the two of them not being able to do any damage against each other. The dire wolf finally got another bite in and finished off their opponent.

Then it was Cyrus’s first fight.

He, a polar bear, was up against a giant goat. Even with his lethal attributes, he didn’t underestimate the brutality of those horns. Especially since the goat instantly charged him and knocked him prone. With his enemy in close, Cyrus managed to land both a bite and claw swipe. It was almost enough to instantly win. The bloodied goat got one more good ram of its horns in before Cyrus landed the winning blow.

The last fight of this wave pitted a lion against a giant constrictor. First blood went to the lion, who pounced on the snake and got in a deep bite as its claws dug in for purchase. The snake flailed, trying to bite back but ultimately just shaking the lion off themselves. Prepared, the snake did not let the lion bite them again. They baited the lion and struck while they were recovering, coiling around them. They successfully immobilized the lion. Not that the lion cared much. It was easier for them to sink their teeth into the snake’s muscly body when they wasn’t slithering around. But exchanging bites paid a toll on both fighters. As fatigue set in, they both failed to make purchase. The constrictor almost lost grip on the lion, too. In that flash of fear of their opponent escaping, they struck true, winning the round.

So far so good. Cyrus and his new friend made a small profit already. Hopefully they could keep it.

The second wave started up. It was the battered bear verses the rather healthy dire wolf. Based on apparent health, the fight would go to the wolf. But based on damage capability, the bear lead in lethality.

The fight was decided in two strikes. The wolf won before betting could even finish.

Cyrus’s little bear ears drooped. He was not ready for his second fight to happen so soon.  But now he had to fight the giant constrictor. They both received about the same overall damage, but Cyrus was looking worse. He needed to stay smart. He needed to avoid further injury. He rushed to get the first strikes. He had the advantage of being able to get two strikes in near simultaneously. His opponent went with the same tactic as they had their last fight and wrapped around him, restraining him. He refused to go down like the lion had. He put up a struggle then bit down as hard as he could in the spot the lion had started. It was enough. Cyrus won again.

The final fight.

Cyrus got a short reprieve to allow the last bets to be placed. Then it was him verses the dire wolf.

The wolf lunged, going for a bite. But they weren’t expecting him to dodge by standing up on his hind legs. Cyrus slammed down with a swipe of his claws and snapped a near lethal bite. The wolf yelped and whined. And because he failed to finish the job in one go, the wolf got another chance.

Ripping the victory from him.

The crowd was cheering in a mix of joy and defeat. Cyrus slammed his fist on the ground, then, recalling their group’s luck in the previous day’s gambling adventures, he yelled out, “Double or nothing! Double or nothing!” He caught eyes with the MC.

“Quite, quiet,” the MC hushed the room. They strode up to Cyrus and looked at him with an amused look. Then they looked at the other fighter, a chartreux tabaxi, as she popped out of the polymorph. To her, they asked, “You up for another fight?”

She shrugged and put her fists on her hips. “I’m good with kicking his ass again. Especially if it makes me more gold.”

“You good for the money?” the MC asked Cyrus.

“I don’t plan on losing,” he said, avoiding having to lie.

His little aversion did not go unnoticed, but they let it slide. “Well, well,” the MC boasted to the room again. “It looks like we have a rare opportunity here. Here’s how the betting will go…”

Cyrus’s friend ran up to the side of the pit and glared daggers at him. He skirted off to the side as the MC talked on. “What the hells are you doing?” she hissed at him. “You really think you can take on Ivy? You’ve already lost. I’ve at least made some gold tonight; just get the fuck outta there!”

“Trust me on this,” he said. It was a complete mystery where he got this confidence from, but he was obviously dead set in his decision. “Please.”

He looked so sweetly sincere. Fuck, why did she always get mixed up with cute fools like him? She groaned and shook her head. “Fine! But I swear… I will crush your skull with my thighs if you lose this.”

“Deal,” he smiled then captured a quick kiss.

“We’ll have a non-morphed fight in twenty minutes,” the MC said. “Settle your bets and prepare for a fight.”

Thankfully for Cyrus, they provided him with his choice of weapon. He took a dagger and a sword. Usually, he didn’t like fighting. When his brother and his friends got into fights, he always tried to avoid the fray. Large fights were not his forte. But duels… Duels were where his skills shined best.

He took a couple test swings, then faced his opponent. “You—you’re not going to use a weapon?”

Ivy smirked and cracked her knuckles. “Boy, I am a weapon.”

For yet another time tonight, Cyrus felt both intimidated yet turned on.

But then mostly intimidated as she made the first move. She rushed in and threw two punches. Dodging the first one made the second land precisely in a tender spot. Thankfully his training helped him mitigate some the damage. He used his momentum to dodge her next punch, but again got caught by the follow-up. Usually, his duels were against other weapon wielders; her being a monk and only using her fists was something he needed to adjust for. And fast.

Cyrus swiped with his sword, hoping to at least get her to back off. Though he did land the hit; she wasn’t expecting such a quick reaction from him. His sword left a nasty impression. His dagger followed suit.

Neither of them had been prepared for just how nasty the other could be. She couldn’t take more risks. Yet again, he managed to avoid her first of two punches. She focused herself and forced her energy into his pressure points, attempting to stun him. If she could incapacitate him for even one round, she’d prevail. But he was unfazed. Perhaps it was his airy nature that made him such a challenge; not only did he brush off her stun, he dodged her second flurry of punches.

Like him, Ivy didn’t fall for same tricks. Both of Cyrus’s swipes failed to connect. Focusing herself, she got in two quick jabs. She didn’t have much Ki left, but it was now or never. She tried to stun him again. Cursed when it failed again. Using the last bit of her reserves, she struck out with two more punches, landing both. Finally, she was in her zone.

Cyrus would not last another round. It was now or never. He stole a glance at the woman he still hadn’t gotten the name of yet. Her expression was nothing but cold panic. I can’t let her down, he affirmed to himself. He couldn’t let his brother down either. Brontë—Dorian, had done so much for him already; he and his friends were continuing to do so much for him. He had to prove himself worthy of all this effort in at least one way.

He needed to win.

He needed to get the explosives.

With this weight pushing him on, Cyrus went for a slash. He feinted, using some fancy footing, and aimed for her back. He felt the blade connect. In his desire to end this fight, he let the blade eat into her back. Just as he went to follow up with his dagger… Ivy fell to her knees. Then collapsed face down.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. A cleric rushed forth to tend to Ivy as Cyrus laughed, releasing the tension that had been holding him together. He went to the edge of the pit and pulled his friend into a proper, deep kiss. She laughed against his lips.

Then the adrenaline high ended. All Cyrus could make sense of was pain and fatigue and the strong desire to not be standing anymore. He went down. The woman cursed and reached out a hand towards him as he collapsed—she couldn’t really help him at the angle they were at. She jumped down into the pit and eased him onto her lap. Withdrawing a potion from her bag, she started to carefully pour it into his mouth. He stared up at her with half-lidded eyes. This was nice. Especially so when she started gently combing her fingers through his hair.

His little respite was interrupted by a small tremor. Everyone gasped and exclaimed in alarm, asking around but gaining no answers. Regardless of what it was, it reminded Cyrus of his real mission tonight. “Um, do you think we could get the explosives now?”

Her hand stopped in his hair. He looked like crap. He needed rest. Out of everything he could ask for right now, he still just wanted combustibles? It insulted her that all their flirting didn’t eclipse his strange need for the weapon. Perhaps he was denser than she thought.

“Sure,” she said flatly. They both got up and exited the pit. As she collected their winnings, she chatted up a few of the rogues. They tipped them off to a guy that did some dealings with an old merchant in Vasselheim who always seemed to be fresh from a fire. If anyone would have what Cyrus was looking for, it’d be him.

They left a different way than they came in. The hall had a small crowd. Most were in a small panic from the quake, but still lingered about. Whatever was going on up top, no one seemed in a rush to go see it firsthand. In a room branching off a side hall, they found their man. He greeted them with a sharp, judging glare. But once he recognized Cyrus for the winning fighter of the night, his expression morphed into a big grin and friendly posture. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m looking for some explosives. We heard you were the guy to see.”

“Sure thing. How much you want?”

Cyrus hesitated. That he wasn’t exactly sure of. He knew what they needed to do with it, but he couldn’t exactly say he needed to blow the skydeck off the side of The Maiden’s Wish. Well… he shouldn’t have said it. “Uhh… like enough to break a balcony off the side of a building?”

Both of them looked at Cyrus. They were so confused and a horrified kind of curious, yet ultimately hesitant to ask and learn what the hell this boy was up to.

A sale was a sale. The merchant raised up both his hands, palms out, letting his skepticism go. There was enough shit going on in this town. He’d rather have plausible deniability. While he excused himself to grab the items from a hidden back room, his lovely kissing buddy angry whispered, “What the fuck, dude? You blowing up a building?”

“No! No. Not a building. Just,” he shrugged, making a small sound and partially guilty face, “part of a building. Literally just need to break a piece off.”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna do this shit instead of getting laid,” she sighed.

“Wait, what?”

The merchant came back out with a small crate. “Alright, here ya go.” He set it on his desk and counted out a handful of… wooden cylinders? Cyrus had no idea. “Careful with these, alright. Place them where you want the explosion then light this wick—called a fuse. They tend to burn down rather quickly so light it then get some distance back. The powder inside these things is highly flammable. Got it?”

“Yes. Highly flammable. Thank you,” he said earnestly like a puppy. Thankfully the vendor put the dynamite into a leather satchel for him because he didn’t think to bring anything to carry it in. It was time for him to get back. He definitely had lost track of time and wasn’t sure if he was already late.  With an endearingly pitiful expression, he asked, “Also, which way is the fastest way out to The Maiden’s Wish?”

The merchant raised a brow at him. He was beginning to assume that Cyrus intended to use the dynamite on the casino—which wasn’t wrong; he just couldn’t have guessed it was for the skydeck. Regardless, it wasn’t his business. He pointed straight up. “It’s nearly on top of us. Just go to the main hall, turn left, and there’ll be a ladder up about thirty feet down.”

“Thank you, again.” He turned to the woman, taking both her hands in his. “Sadly, I must part ways. Hopefully, we won enough money for your debts tonight.” He went in for another kiss but stopped short. Pulled back a little. In a hushed voice he said, “This is sort of embarrassing but… I never did catch your name.”

“I never threw it.” Cyrus stared at her with utter confusion scrunching his face. She rolled her eyes. “That was a joke, dummy.”

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, only partially understanding it now. “I’m Cyrus.”

“Denise.”

“Well Denise. I don’t know if I’ll ever be returning to Kymal after tonight. But it’d be great to run into you again somewhere else one day.”

She gave him a sassy look and pulled into a kiss by his collar. “We’ll see, pretty boy.”

Cyrus rushed off. He found the exit without trouble and exited out in a sliver of an alley a building over from the casino. Peaking out, he didn’t see any possible trouble. He darted for a set of doors on the side of the building. They were locked. He banged on the doors, calling for someone to, please, let him in. Dammit. Did he need to temp the front entrance? Sounds came from the other side of the doors and then they opened for him. Luck was still on his side.

He ran past the person who opened them, only throwing a quick thanks over his shoulder as he beelined for the skydeck. He took the stairs two at a time, shoving past the few people who were still moving about—some having small fights of their own. He caught a couple errant blades, adding to his wounds for the night. But he wouldn’t let it stop him.

The first thing he noticed was that the skydeck door was closed. Cyrus considered knocking on the door in the pattern he and his brother always used growing up. But nah. That wasn’t the style of this group. And so he yelled, “Two bits!” and burst through onto the skydeck where, thankfully, everyone else already was.

Immediately, Dorian looked to him. “Did you bring the explosives?”

“I bought it—I brought it,” he said while recovering his breath. He pulled out the bag and offered it to his brother. “The things I gave away to get it…”

The rest of their heist was just as hectic as Cyrus’s night.

But they did it.

They succeeded. They got enough money to pay off his bounty; made a new friend and helped her with her goal; likely made more enemies; and they also managed to heist some rare broomstone—its fate yet to be determined.

For the first time in a while, Cyrus was able to rest with lighter shoulders.

— — —

Fun Facts: for the fights, I literally rolled up a random battle roster and then rolled each of the fights (I made Cyrus a polar bear instead of a black bear like mentioned in the one-shot because he needed to have a better chance of actually winning, lol). Also, I made Cyrus a Swashbuckler Rogue; though he’s bad at the more rogue-ish bits and doesn’t even know Thieves Cant. Also also, Denise is Aimee’s character Deni$e that she portrayed in her Narative Telephone episode, and that was name dropped in the ExU: Kymal one-shot—I didn’t write her name with the “$” for the sake of anyone using voice to text.

— — —

Other Crit Role writings:

Critical Narrative - Poems based on the Narrative Telephone stories

The Gold of the Lucidian - Song about Uk'otoa

Nein Goodbyes (the Mighty Legend) - Song covering the Mighty Nein's adventures

Copper & Amethyst - Shadowgast fanfic

Main Writing Masterlist

#cyrus wyvernwind #critrole fanfic #ExU #ExU: Kymal #exandria unlimited: kymal #exandria unlimited #crown keepers #critical role #critrole fanfiction #my writing

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Aradia: psychics may be banned fr0m m0st casin0s, but i want t0 see a psychics-0NLY casin0.

Sollux: oh the ab2olute cacophony of p2ychiic2 tryiing two one up each other iin game2 of p2ychogambliing… madne22

#homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #aradia megido #sollux captor #mod terezi #i like how she specifies it's 'most casinos' and not all casinos #there's evidently at least a small handful of casinos that allow psychics into their floors #or don't acknowledge the existence of psychics #thus allowing them to gamble with impunity

[softboywriting]

Hate To Love You | Poe Dameron

Summary: You and Poe have been friends since you arrived at the Resistance base three years ago. Well, friends who often want to strangle each other as much as they want to take the other to bed. After a solo mission gone wrong you get teamed up with Poe for a follow up mission on Canto Bight. The two of you together under the right circumstances may lead to something neither of you can resist, and confessions that can’t be taken back. [Star wars universe] [nsfw themes no smut] [fluff] [fr-enemies to lovers [[sort of]] 

Word Count: 6k

|Masterlist In Bio|

You find yourself in a bad area of Kajimi while on an intel mission for Leia. There is supposedly a man with information about the location of an abandoned First Order fleet ship that would be an excellent salvage opportunity. Stars above know the Resistance can use all the weapons and ship parts they can get their hands on. You went in alone, opting to leave behind your usual partner Daya, while she was laid up from a blaster burn. It was supposed to be an easy job. You go into Kajimi City, go to a cantina called Knicks and meet a man in an emerald green robe. He would give you a holopad and you would leave. Of course that does not happen.

You enter the cantina and immediately note that it is absolutely packed from wall to wall. It's loud, as most are, and you make your way around, looking for the man in the emerald robe. It's hard to see as it's barely lit. It's a divey place, sketchiness oozes from every inch of the establishment. Bad things, illegal things, happen here. You keep your head down, pull your hood up and keep moving.

"Oh look at her! Hey honey, gimme some of that body." Some guy hollers as you pass him.

You step forward and push past two big aliens that are conversing in grunts. You cannot stand being hit on. It's so irritating. You wore baggy jumpsuit pants and one of Poe's jackets to make yourself seem shapeless. Apparently that didn't work as well as you hoped. You wish the contact would show up or make himself seen because you're not keen on asking the barkeep about him. Last time you did that it ended badly, as the person you were after was not well liked.

There isn't much time to worry about all of that when a loud boom shakes the cantina, causing a hush to fall over the crowded room.

"First Order! Run!" Someone yells and then panic erupts.

You're jostled around as patrons begin to hurry for the exit. This sucks, there is no way you're going to get the intel now. Fuck it. You head for the exit, squeezing past a few droids to get out into the cold night air. Sure enough there are stormtroopers everywhere grabbing people left and right. You duck into an alley and head for anywhere that is not the middle of town.

The alley goes to a dead end that has an open sewer tunnel grate. It's better than nothing. You'll camp out in the tunnels and wait until things settle down topside. You slide past the bars and head into the dark passageway, pulling your flashlight out for a better visual. Unfortunately you don't make it too far before you come face to face with a blaster as you enter a dim lit tunnel.

"How'd you find this place?" The woman on the other end of the blaster says. "You're not part of the crew."

"I ran from the stormtroopers and slipped through an open sewer grate. I don't mean any harm."

"That jacket, where'd you get it?"

You look down and back up. "Uh, someone gave it to me?"

The woman walks forward, blaster still trained on you. "I know this jacket. Who are you?"

"I'm with the resistance. I can leave, I will find another place to stay until the stormtroopers clear out."

"What's your name?"

You swallow thickly. Why does your name matter? And why is she obsessed with this jacket? "Dameron. My name is Dameron."

"Dameron? Poe Dameron? Are you related?"

Oh fuck. She knows Poe. Shit. Fuck. He told you he once had bad luck on Kajimi, but he also said he had friends there. He never specified exactly what bad luck meant, but of course you'd run into someone who knew him. It's a fifty fifty chance, either this person is a friend or an enemy and you're gonna have to roll the dice. "He's my...husband?"

She scoffs. "He's alive? That son of a bitch. I should tea-"

"Zorii! They've taken Burnham!" Someone shouts from down the tunnel.

The woman makes a noise of annoyance. "Listen, you tell Poe if he ever steps foot on Kajimi again I will have his head on a platter and serve the rest of him to a sand worm. And if I see him outside if Kajimi it's on sight. Got it?"

"Yep. Got it." You turn and head back to the entrance of the tunnels. Sweat runs down your back and you walk faster, feeling the wall for guidance. You're too afraid to turn your light back on in case Zorii comes after you. You're done taking chances today, it's time to get back to your ship and get back to base. Fuck the intel.

_____________________

"Hey! You made it back!" Poe cheers, clapping you on the back as soon as you enter the command center. He's the only one in there, seemingly going over the latest attack plans on a First Order base. "How was Kajimi? Did you get the coordinates?"

"No, I didn't." You pull off your hat and gloves, slapping them on the table. "Do you know a woman named Zorii?"

Poe's face pales, eyes wide. "Perhaps, why?"

"I ran into her on accident. She recognized your jacket!" You pluck at the leather collar. "I'm fairly certain I'm lucky to be alive."

"Whoa hold on, did you say it was mine?"

"Sort of? I don't know, she asked my name and I said Dameron because I didn't want to give my real name because safety and whatever and I didn’t think any more of it. But of course she knew you! And she seemed to think you were dead. Wanna explain?"

"You gave my name?!" Poe grabs his hair and turns away, pacing the length of the star chart console. "Fuck! What did you tell her? I need to know. Did you say you were my sister? My cousin? My child?"

"First of all I'm too old to be your child you idiot. I said wife."

"Wife?! Oh for ewoks sake. You told her I was married?!"

You shrug the jacket off and throw it on a console. "I took a chance Poe! I had no idea if she was a friend or a foe!"

"Oh you took a chance alright. I'm so fucking dead now."

"Why? She was pissed but how bad can it be?"

Poe laughs debilitatingly. "Faking my own death to get out of the crew and join the resistance? Is that bad? Or hold how about this, I faked my death and we were seeing each other at the time I did."

Your jaw drops. "Poe Dameron! You did what?!"

"Yeah! Yeah, no I know! I'm a huge piece of shit but I did what I had to do to keep my ass alive."

You throw your hands up and turn away, walking toward the seating area. "You couldn't just break up with her like a normal person? No?"

"It wasn't about her, it was about leaving the crew."

"Then just leave!"

"Just leave? You have no idea how much shit that would put me in. I faked my death to sever all ties. Spice runners don't let people just leave when you know about their production and-"

"SPICE?!"

"Yeah that's what I said. We all have a past, don't start with me." He groans and sinks down into a chair. "I'm so fucking dead."

"You're only dead if you set foot on Kajimi. Just don't go there."

"Ah, yeah sure. Didn't plan on that regardless. The point isn't that I want to go back to Kajimi one day, it's a shit hole anyway, it's that Zorii knows I'm not dead and I lied to her. She's going to be furious and probably come after my ass."

"Well she can't miss it."

Poe gives you a death stare. "I'm aware my ass is big. Believe me, the seats in the falcon remind me every fucking time. I don't need this right now." He stands and heads for the exit as a few Captains enter. You watch as he leaves and turn your chair toward the console behind it, burying your face in your hands and sighing heavily.

______________________

"Poe?" You call out tentatively as you enter the area of the hangar where he's been working on his x-wing for the last several hours. It's been a day since you got into it in the command center and you feel horrible for making him angry. He's your commander, and you'd even say friend though you butt heads a bit, but at the end of the day you do care for him. A lot. More than you probably should, even if he is a real pain in your ass. He gets under your skin and makes you hotter than any man ever has. It's a fine balance of attraction and irritation.

Sure enough he's laying across the top of his x-wing, foot hooked into the opening of the cockpit, stretched out reaching something inside the engine. He's got on just his cargo pants and a black tank top and you cannot help but stare at his ass. Yes, you teased him about it earlier but in all honesty you love it. It's so...grabable and sexy. He has no idea. Or maybe he does. It seemed like a sore subject earlier but you had been teasing him so that's your fault.

"Poe?" You say a bit louder and he pushes up out of the engine, arms holding him up against the mainframe. His hair is curled beyond belief, the humidity and sweat most likely.

"What now?"

"I wanted to say sorry for yesterday morning."

He pushes himself up farther and repositions himself to slide off the edge of the x-wings body to stand in front of you. He wipes his hands on his tank and crosses his arms. "Why'd you say you were my wife?"

"Huh? I told you, because-"

"No. No, you could have said sister or cousin, anything. But you chose to say wife. Why?"

"I guess I thought it was the safest option." You shrug and dig your boot into the dusty concrete. You definitely haven't imagined what it would be like to be his wife. To be his girlfriend even. Definitely not.

"You thought- oh." Poe hums. "Well I got news for you, wife. We have an assignment together."

"What? Why?"

"Because our friend with the coordinates has taken refuge in Canto Bight."

"The casino resort city? Why the fuck would he go there?"

Poe shrugs. "It beats me. Maybe the guy has a gambling problem. Either way, you and I are going and we are getting those coordinates."

"Why do you need to go?"

"As your partner."

Your heart sinks. Leia knows you blew it on Kajimi. It wasn't supposed to be a solo mission but you said you could handle it. Not that it was your fault the first order decided to raid the city. But why Poe? Why not send someone else with you? Daya? Rose? Wexley?

"Why?"

Poe jumps and hits the release for the hood of the x-wing to fall closed. "Why, because Leia said so."

"Why you? Doesn't she need you here for stuff?"

He smiles and hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. "It's gonna be me because I asked for the mission."

"You're messing with me aren't you? This is some kind of retribution for outing your fake death."

"Maybe, maybe not." He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you against him. "Pack your bags, because it's honeymoon week on Canto Bight."

"What?!"

"Oh yeah. They're only letting couples in and seeing as you're my wife now..."

"POE DAMERON!"

"Mmm?"

You shove him and he cackles. "You asshole! You are so petty for this."

"Yeah well you signed my death warrant. The least I can do is get even just a little bit."

"I'm not going to sleep with you!" You shout back as you walk away. "I'm not your real wife!"

"We'll see about that!"

_____________________

Poe Dameron can clean up nice. Galaxies he looks like a model when he peels off the fighter suit and runs his hand over his curls. He's in a red silken dress shirt, the top three buttons undone and showing off his gold chain beneath that dips down low on his chest. Black slacks that are definitely tailored because they hug his butt and thighs like they're made for him. Fuck.

"Are you going to change?" Poe asks, gesturing to your flight suit. "I don't think they'll let us in if you're in that."

"Of course I'm going to change." You tug at the velcro of your suit and peel it open to reveal your dress beneath. It's not too fancy, just a simple black dress, knee length and short sleeved. You don't have a lot of nice clothes, they just aren't something you keep around. You do have a necklace from your mom, a nice silver chain with a blue gem pendant. You don't look nearly as nice as Poe does.

"So our cover is that we're a newly wed couple who can't keep their hands off each other. I'm more likely to get noticed here. I can hide my face in your neck and hair. People don't care much for PDA so they will hopefully just ignore us and-" Poe stops mid briefing and you look over at him. "Oh damn." He mutters softly. "My wife looks hot."

"What? Shut up." You toss the flight suit into the cockpit and attempt to fix your hair in the reflection on the windshield. "You're being an ass."

Poe lays his hand on your lower back. "I give you a compliment and I'm an ass? What kind of backwards planet are you from?"

"It was not a compliment. You said wife. Which is not a compliment, it's teasing, so you are an ass."

He leans in close and you press against the x-wing. You can see him in the windshield behind you. Your eyes meet in the reflection and you refuse to look away. His voice comes close to your ear, eyes still boring into yours as he says, "My partner looks stunning and beautiful and I cannot believe I get to do this mission with her. Is that better?"

Your stomach sinks and your heart stops. "You're not bad yourself."

He chuckles, still close to your ear. "I know."

"Confident much?" You press back against him to move away from the x-wing and he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight against his warmth. Your body flushes, heat pooling in your stomach. Flashes of what you'd like him to do race through your brain. Galaxies what you wouldn't let him do to you. No. You have to get your mind out of the gutter. You have a job to do.  "Let go, Poe."

"Better get used to it. We're going to do a lot of touching." He purrs before he releases you.

You roll your eyes and he smirks.

"Don't think I can't see that blush." He walks beside you as you head to the grand entry way of the Canto Bight resort. "I know you want me."

"In your dreams, Dameron."

He chuckles. "I do have lots of dreams." He matches your pace and slips his arm around your back. "Fun dreams. We should share them sometime."

You cut him a glare and he grins. "You're really playing into this cover."

"Who says I'm playing?"

______________________

As soon as you're checked in, the hunt is on. You can't help but wonder how many of these people would just leap at the chance to throttle you and Poe for simply being part of the Resistance. There's only one way to get this rich in the galaxy and that is weaponry and sympathizing with the First Order. After an hour or so you and Poe head for the elevators that go to the game rooms on the top floor. It's the roulette rooms to be exact. You got word from base that the contact is a roulette player, always betting black.

"I hope we find him." You say to yourself as the doors to the elevator close. It's only you and Poe inside, which is fine with you. At least you don't have to act when no one is around. The last hour has been an excruciating test of will power. You want this to be over, to never have to touch Poe again because it is killing you inside. You know this won't last.

"As do I."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I still feel like we're flying a little blind."

"We'll find him."

You look over and Poe has his arms crossed, staring straight ahead at the reflective doors. You look at the doors and take in the two of you together. He looks like he belongs here and you don't. People are going to know you're fakes. This isn't a mission for you, you're not a good actor and you're barely dressed for the part.

"You look great, stop worrying." Poe says softly.

"What? I didn't say anything?"

"You're staring at our reflection intently. I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. You look great."

You fold your arms over your chest and lean against the wall. "You're staring too."

Poe turns and steps directly in front of you. "I'm staring at you."

"Well stop."

"I can't." He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and your hands start sweating, heart going wild. "I wanna take it all in while I have it."

"You think I'm not going to dress up ever again?"

"Maybe. I've known you for three years now and I've never seen you like this."

"Don't get used to it."

Poe releases your chin as the elevator dings, signaling your floor. "I won't. But I'm going to relish it while I can."

"Yeah, you do tha-ah!"

He grabs your hand and pulls you out onto the game floor, tugging you against his chest. He slides a hand into your hair and your knees go weak. "Remember our cover?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Newly weds." He drops his lips to your ear. "That can't get enough of each other. You can touch me again, it's okay."

You rest your hand against his chest and his heart is beating fast and hard. He's really into this. "How are we supposed to find the contact if we're all over each other?"

"We will. Just follow my lead."

Poe wraps his arm around your back and guides you to walk with him to a table. He crowds you against the table in front of him, lips going to your neck. "Ask what the buy in is?"

"What's the buy in?" You smile sweetly, looking at the dealer. You're trying not to tremble but Poe is really making you feel weak kneed. He's taken to sliding his hand across your stomach and massaging his thumb just over your ribcage.

"Twenty thousand Madame." The dealer says happily. "Shall I put you on the board next round?"

"Uh.."

"Yes." Poe says more lustfully than helpfully.

You shiver and nod. "Yes please."

The dealer gives a nod and begins to set out a marker for you while the roulette wheel spins away.

"How exactly are we doing this?" You hiss at Poe and he chuckles. "Seriously what money do you-"

"He's here."

"What? Where?" You look around the table and no one matches the contact's description. "Where?"

Poe bites at your neck and you let out an embarrassing little noise of pleasure. He's hitting all your sensitive spots and it's driving you mad. "Table at our two o'clock."

You look over and sure enough there is a man in a long emerald green robe. "Great let's go talk to him."

"Not so fast." Poe murmurs, fingers flexing on your stomach. "We have a game to play."

"No we don't. We have no money." You seethe and he hums against your back. "Seriously what are you-"

Poe lays a bundle of tokens on the table and your eyes go wide. "Don't lose." He presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls away.

"Don't- how the fuck am I supposed to-" You look back and he's crossing the game room to get to the table where the contact is. You look back at your own game and white knuckle the edge of the table. You don't even know how to play roulette.

"Madame? Your bet?" The dealer calls, looking at you.

"I- thirteen?"

"The color Madame?"

"Black."

"Very well."

You watch as the wheel spins and the little ball bounces around inside. It's insufferable. You can't watch. You know it's going to cause you to lose this stack of tokens Poe just slapped down out of nowhere. Why does he have so much money? You look up and find him standing near the contact. He doesn't appear to be talking, just observing.

"Winner!"

Your eyes snap back to the table and the dealer is pushing a large amount of tokens toward you. "What..."

"Thirteen black, straight bet. You've taken the majority of the pot Madame. Shall I put you down for another round or cash you out?"

"Cash out."

The dealer stacks your tokens into a carrier and pushes the small box toward you. "Best of times madame."

You gather the box and make a beeline for Poe. The moment you're in range you lay a hand on his back and he turns, scooping you against him and pressing his lips to your cheek. "I-...Okay?"

"The contact is a spy from the First Order," Poe whispers, kissing along your jaw and your mind goes fuzzy. "This is a trap. We need to stay low, contact Leia and find out more information."

"H-how do you know?" You stammer, brain split between wanting to focus on the mission and getting Poe alone in a bedroom.

"He's wearing a ring that only First Order commanders have. I've seen it before."

You slide your hand down his back and rest it on his ass. It takes everything in you not to squeeze. "We should talk elsewhere. Like you said, we need to get ahold of Leia."

"Did you lose my money at the table?"

"No, and on that subject, where the fuck did you get that much in tokens? Since when do you just have an extra twenty thousand laying around?"

"Don't worry about it. What did you win?"

"I don't know?" You move away and hold up the carrier full of tokens. "The dealer just gave me this."

Poe takes it and his eyes go wide. "Holy sh- this is way more than I laid down. Okay first things first we cash this out and get a room. Then we call Leia."

"Sounds good."

_____________________

The room is huge, a suite for a small family. Seriously you could house at least four people in there comfortably it is so large. You take a seat on the end of the giant gold and black bed in the center of the room and Poe starts rolling up his sleeves. It's way hotter than it should be and your brain wanders. It'd feel so good to have him pin you down, kiss you until you can't think straight anymore. His tongue is probably so skilled and-

"Hey, hello, you alive?" Poe says, touching your shoulder. "Did you bring the communicator?"

"Yeah, yeah it's in my purse."

Poe looks around and spots the small purse you had been carrying. "This could have been very bad."

"Do you think he would have tried to kill us?"

"No. I think he would have given us the coordinates and lead us into a death trap." Poe dials out the command center code. "I knew this abandoned ship was too good to be true."

You flop back and stare at the ceiling while Poe talks to Leia. It's painted gold with black stars imprinted throughout. It's interesting, ritzy and obnoxious, but still pretty. You smile to yourself. You've never been in a place this nice. Never in a million years did you think you would find yourself in Canto Bight. Heat rises in your stomach as you reflect on the last hour or so with Poe. He was so willing to touch you, to make you squirm under his attentions. Does he feel some type of way for real? Is he playing the part? You know one thing, you are never going to recover from this. You're going to have dreams for months.

"You know your dress is leaving little to the imagination."

You snap out of your thoughts and sit up, staring at Poe who's standing at the end of the bed looking down at you. Galaxies it's so sexy, his eyes are trained on you and you can't look away. Your dress is hiked up to your thighs, so laying down he could probably see your underwear. "Maybe you should look elsewhere."

"Maybe I don't wanna." He smirks and your blood pressure skyrockets. He reaches out and flips the bit of fabric laying on your leg and exposes a bit more skin.

"Poe!"

His big hand covers the top of your thigh and he gives a little squeeze. "Tell me to stop."

"Poe...what're you doing?"

His other hand finds your opposite thigh and he slides them up under the dress. He's just touching your legs and you're getting riled up. He presses his face into your neck and you let out the most feeble whine of pleasure. "If you don't want this for real, tell me now."

"We shouldn-"

He gives a little bite and you fall backwards, body no longer able to handle it. "Yes or no sweetheart, I need to know if you want this?"

"Yes. I want you." You bite your lip and it's all over. Poe climbs over you, holding your wrists just like you imagined. His lips find yours, kissing you hungrily while you squirm beneath him, aching to touch him in return. You know it's going to be a long night and that's just fine.

____________________

Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up, eyes opening to the darkened room. For a moment you cannot sort out where you are. The bed feels unfamiliar, the air smells different, nothing is right. Then it hits you. Canto Bight. Poe. You roll over and sure enough there he is beside you, arm over his face.

Last night comes back to you. Oh man. That's why you're sore and naked. You turn back over and Poe shifts on his side. An arm wraps around your chest, pulling you flush against him under the blankets.

"Go back to sleep sweetheart."

"You're awake too."

His hand slides up your chest and settles against your throat. You shiver, remembering last night. A wave of heat courses down your body and settles between your legs. He must know this because he chuckles softly. "Quiet now aren't you?"

"Shut up."

"That's not what you told me last night." He kisses along your shoulder and rubs his thumb back and forth across your throat, applying gentle pressure. "I believe the words were, harder please."

"Poe we just woke up. Do you really need to do this now?" You groan and he slides his hand away, settling it on your chest instead.

He nuzzles against your hair and places another kiss to the back of your neck. "I don't want it to end."

"What?"

"Us, this."

You turn over and face him, nearly nose to nose. You can feel his breath and you stare at each other for a long moment. "You want this?"

He nods. "Please?"

"Okay, I'm down for exploring this." You smile and he leans in to kiss you gently. "I guess I wasn't so far off when I said I was your wife."

Poe cards a hand through your hair. "Easy now, we could make that a possibility. There's a dozen union halls here."

"We're not getting married!" You laugh and he does so in turn. "Fuck a guy once and he wants to make you his wife. Damn, how long has it been Poe?"

"Shut up!"

"No seriously, how long?"

"A while."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Sure. It's your fault."

You narrow your eyes and he's grinning. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, it's your fault I haven't gotten laid." He flips your nose with his finger and you swat him away. "I'm spelling it out here."

"No you're not? How is it my fault exactly?"

"Because I'm...inlovewithyou." He mutters the last bit, and stares diligently at your pillow.

You touch his cheek and turn his head up to look at you. "Run that by me again?"

"You heard it."

"I heard the impossible. So I know I heard wrong."

"Fuck you, impossible."

"Then say it again!

"I love you!" He takes in a shaky breath. "You're the only woman I've ever met that goes toe to toe with me and gets under my skin to the point I just want to rip your head off but also fuck you so hard you're begging for it. I look forward to seeing you every morning, I look forward to talking to you every day. When you go on missions I can't eat or sleep because I'm so damn worried you won't come back. Fuck, you're everything and I-I must look like an idiot."

"Poe."

"Don't say it. I know it's fine. You don't feel the same and-"

You lean forward and kiss him to make him shut up. He catches on immediately and cradles your face as he returns the kiss. "First things first Dameron..."

"Yeah?" He mutters, eyes closed as he chases your lips as you speak.

"Don't ever tell me how I feel."

He grins and opens his eyes, staring back at you with burning fire. It's passion, challenge, interest. So many emotions you can't settle on one. "Can I tell you want to do?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes?" He slides his hand down to your throat, not squeezing, just touching. "You seemed to like me telling you what to do last night."

You bite his lip and he groans. "Maybe sometimes."

"I'll take sometimes." He pulls you against him, tucking your head under his chin. "Can I take you to breakfast?"

"Like a date?"

"Yes."

"Sure, but you gotta tell me where you got those tokens last night."

He chuckles. "They're fake."

"Fake?! You gave me fake tokens?!"

"I told you not to lose didn't I?"

"You son of a bitch."

"No my mother was a kind woman, thank you."

"I hate you."

He kisses your head and holds his lips to your hair. "No you don't."

You grip his back, pressing your face into his chest. "I don't. Not even a little."

_____________________

Three days after you and Poe return to base things don't seem to have changed. Poe doesn't seem to hint at wanting to be together, he doesn't say anything about what happened between you two on Canto Bight. It's weird. You had such a good night and a lovely breakfast. As far as hook ups and first dates go, they were some of the best you've ever had. You thought things were going well, that you were going to be a couple when you got back to base, but that isn't happening and you don't know why. It's a little annoying and you wonder if Poe is embarrassed to be with you. Or maybe he doesn't want people to know because he wants to keep his options open. You feel played and it is not sitting well.

"Bout time you got back." You say as Poe walks up to the supply cart you're stocking in the hangar. He has been out on a mission with the black x-wing team. Some sort of attack on some stormtroopers invading a resistance friendly settlement.

"Miss me?"

"Yeah, sure." You roll your eyes.

Poe grabs the handles on the cart and leans forward as he speaks. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't know, is there?"

"Don't start with me."

You slam down a pack of fuses and lift your eyes to meet his. "Don't start with you? Oh no problem, you already didn't start it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh fuck you."

Poe raises his eyebrows. "Fuck me? I'm not doing anything. You're coming at me for who knows what. Tell me what I did!"

"Nothing! You've done nothing Poe! Since we got home you've barely looked at me twice. We spent an incredible night in Canto Bight and for what? For what Poe?!"

"That's what you're mad about?!"

"Yeah! I feel like I've been played!" You laugh angrily, stepping away from the cart and walking around a pile of scrap parts in boxes. "Is Poe Dameron too good to admit he fell in love?!"

"Fuck all, you don't need to shout that across the base!"

You narrow your eyes at him. "You want me to shout? Oh I'll shout." You turn your back to him and face the open expanse of the hangar. "I'm in love with Poe Dameron and he is in love with me! We fucked on Canto Bight and it was amazing!"

A few pilots and crew nearby make noises of encouragement.

Poe grabs your shoulder and turns you around a little rougher than you expect. He backs you against the wall and your heart goes absolutely wild. "You want something to scream about? I'll give you a reason to scream my name."

"Put your money where your mouth is Dameron."

He leans in close, caging you in with his hands on the wall beside your head. "Call me by my last name again and I'll make sure you scream it too."

You stare at him in heavy silence for a moment. The tension is teetering on thin ice. "Tell me you love me. Say it again."

"I love you." He presses his forehead against yours. "I love you until the stars burn out."

"Then why have you been putting me off for the last three days?"

"I've been working through some personal shit."

You swallow thickly. You feel like an asshole now. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't know." He drops his hands from the wall and holds your face. "I promise I'll tell you everything one day, just bare with me."

You grab his wrists and rub your thumb over the back of his hands. "Are you okay? Like...y'know?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?"

Poe nods. "It's just my PTSD and some other stuff. Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you really love me like you just shouted to the base?"

You smile and he bumps your noses together. "Yeah Poe. I love you."

He leans in and kisses you, smiling into it as he does so. "You're really hot when you're angry."

"You are too." You grin back as you slide your hands over his butt. "Maybe we should work on communication."

"Mmm. Then let me tell you how much I want to get you alone right now."

"What's stopping you?"

"Nothing." He grunts as he slides his hands under your legs and lifts you up. "I'm taking you straight to the commander's quarters for punishment."

You grip his back tightly as he walks you out of the hangar. "What's my offense?"

"Verbally attacking a commander and stealing his heart."

"You're cheesy."

"You love it." He purrs, placing his lips against your throat. "You love me."

"Yes, yes I do."

---------

End

------

Header pic by delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#star wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #star wars fan fic #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fan fic #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #star wars universe

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Part 2

well. head’s up- smut ahead. With the ‘mistaken person’ trope. Enjoy. @kriskukko​

Blood For Gold 

Part 2

Once the Count and Countess Morrigan finally left, you went up to your personal quarters to find three huge chests, one was chalk full of new jewelry, you expected it to be paste, but it was real, every last bit of it, but all of it from the moura stables and in the current style here in England. You also found over a dozen bolts of expensive and luxurious fabrics, also from the moura stables along with new shoes, soaps, perfumes, hair conditioners and lotions and a host of beauty treatments along with all kinds of makeup and other trinkets and treasures, then you noticed a few new books in the trunks and took them out and flipped through them to find a message written down on a small note between the pages, from a friend of yours who still lived at the stables. 

“My dearest Audra, 

I am writing you, hoping that this letter finally finds you as others have always returned to me without you getting a chance to read them, to let you know that the Morrigans have enlisted the stables to help them get you remarried as quickly as possible, and the stench of their desperation is rank. Beware of who they introduce to you, for I fear they will be worse than Edward ever was. I know you have been in mourning, and can only have visitors there, but if at all possible, make friends with your brethren in the feather. 

There is a few clubs in London, The Gold Finch, The Midnight Peacock, and The Green Barn, only mouras or moura descendants will be admitted into these establishments. Give your name and what estate you stayed at while at the stables as your password and they should let you in. Explain your situation to them, and they may be of some help and at least they might warn you of bad suitors and help steer you clear of other dangerous people. Now that you have finally been granted your freedom, I would hate to see you lose it over anyone who is not worthy and who can not make you happy. You deserve everything you want Audra. Do not settle. Embrace your choice to choose wisely for yourself. 

Your friend always, 

Callellea.” 

If she had been right there with you, you would have embraced her and cried tears of happiness and relief as you wondered how many other mouras were here. 

You agreed to go out with Agnes on Wednesday, that left tonight and tomorrow. Even though you were tired, you didn’t have much time to waste.

“Malcom, I need my carriage, again, I need to go to The Gold Finch.” You implored as you took the note and quickly turned on your heel and grabbed your purse and quickly went down the stairs. 

“Where?” Malcolm asked as he got his coat back on. 

“There are moura clubs here in London, let’s pray they’re still open on a Monday night- The Gold Finch- The Midnight Peacock and The Green Barn, I must go to at least one of these places tonight.” You insisted. 

“Of course, right away Countess.” He readily agreed. 

The Gold Finch was the closest and surrounded by other various shops but when you walked in, it was clearly some kind of tea shop. 

“How can I help you miss?” The kind gentleman asked behind the counter. 

“Hello, my name is Countess Audravienne Saharrazat Morrigan from the Kalina Estate of Dorierra, I was told by a friend still there that I would be able to find brethren of the feather here.” You carefully told him before he went and got a big book from underneath the counter and began flipping pages to find what you were referencing. 

“Which Quarter is Kalina in?” He asked. 

“It used to be the Sultanate Quarter, but now it’s considered to be in the Hanging Garden Quarter.” You answered as he got to the right section. 

“Ah, yes, Kalina. Do you have any marks?” He asked. 

“Yes.” You answered as you unbuttoned your coat to reveal your chest so he could see the marks on your skin, which looked like many gold peacock feathers gracing your skin, and even turned around so he could see them on the back of your neck where the intricate pattern of your moura collar on the back of your neck along with the gold peacock feathers gracing your shoulders which made him smile because your “wings” covered you from shoulders to legs and wrapped around all of you. 

“Welcome Miss Saharrazat, you’ll do better going by your stable name than your English name at all the moura clubs. From now on, your password will be your house name- Kalina. Right this way.” He urged as he flipped open the gate on the counter so you could pass through and then led to one of two doors behind the counter, one would lead to the shop’s back room and the other led to a staircase and once you ascended it, you were met with a huge room full of other mouras, not all of them had the golden hair or the gold eyes, but they all had at least one gold feather on their skin and the moura collar around their necks or at least the moura mark on the back of their neck with bright, eager, happy smiles to see someone new, as they all gasped excitedly at seeing you and especially once you took off your coat and gave it to the little coat room and your moura marks became visible, then they happily cheered and you were practically ambushed by hugs from everyone as you couldn’t help but start crying at finally receiving the warm welcome you had been craving since you got here, all of them eager to know how you got here and what had happened and word about if the stables had changed much and it was better than coming home before you explained your situation and they brought you to the only elder moura there that night- Yalin who sat at her own table with her own preferred older group of friends. 

“I need your help. The Count and Countess Morrigan wish to push me off and marry me off to someone as soon as possible, and I am going dress shopping on Wednesday with the Countess. I have had peace in my mourning, and now they are going to steal it away because they think me a leech.” You worried to Mother Yalin who was like a kind grandmother to all. 

“What do you need?” Yalin asked thoughtfully.  

“I need to know how to really navigate this place, at least socially, I need to know who to stay away from, who will mean me harm, who will abuse me, or take me for my “dowry” and then leave me devastated. I have played this game once before and lost. If I am to marry I want it on my terms. I want to marry for love this time or not at all. And I can not find it if annoying gnats and flies are buzzing around me like I’m rotting fruit or meat. I need guidance and friends who I can trust. And the Morrigans are the last ones I trust.” You divulged. 

“Does breed matter to you?” Yalin asked thoughtfully. 

“You mean nobleman or commoner?” You asked. 

“No, I mean human, moura, orc, troll, tiefling, ifrit…” She began to list off. 

“I suppose not.” You shook your head no. 

“What about their means?” She asked. 

“I have some saved, the Morrigan’s are giving me a dowry of 50 thousand pounds, but preferably I would like to marry someone who is wise with money, not stingy but discrete but still a little generous, at least towards me, careful, thoughtful, respectful, kind and honest if at all possible.” You specified. 

“So some fortune to keep you comfortable but not destitute.” She realized. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. 

“And because you are a Countess now, the Morrigans will not let you go to a commoner, for fear of tarnishing ‘the family honor’, right?” She ventured. 

“Probably.” You nodded. 

“But because you are a widow, you can not enter the royal family.” She noted. 

“Thank the heavens of which we used to reside.” You murmured which got her to laugh. 

“How long do you have?” She asked. 

“A fortnight, two weeks, my first “reintroduction” into society will be the Friday after at a ball at Havenfield.” You answered. 

“Oh, that’s my sister’s estate, I will also be there, and I can help guide you there then as well, and at least it’s not this Friday. Tell you what, there are four places for moura here in the city. You’ve found Gold Finch, Gold Finch is for chatting and cards over tea. Midnight Peacock is for dancing and The Green Barn- well that’s for business, any kind of business you want to partake in, invest in, even some gambling.” She revealed. 

“And what’s the fourth?” You asked. 

“Red Velvet Rope- it is the house of sin for a moura, and where anyone can find a moura to rut with, not all moura are in high society. They have the best casino, and the most handsome, talented and eager men who can ring your bell seven ways from Sunday or even women and everything in between who can do that too. But my advice to you, only go there for the gambling or the sex, nothing more. Otherwise you could face ruination.” She sagely advised. 

“Of course.” You nodded in understanding. 

“Give me about a week to compile a list for you of suitable partners for you, this weekend, go to the Midnight Peacock and dance till your feet are sore, go to the Velvet Rope, get all the kinks out of your pipes, and then go to The Green Barn and find a way to make what you’ve managed to save away work for you better than any man, in that order.” She advised. 

“And what would you like in return?” You asked. 

“A bar of that Dorierra soap and whatever else you can spare. The soaps that they make here are so harsh on my skin. Almost makes me not want to bathe.” She advised. 

“Is there a way to get the recipe and bring it to one of the soap makers here?” You asked. 

“No, the soap is probably a trade secret solely for the moura stables and most of these companies are about mass product, not quality of their product. I think the soap is more costly to make than it would probably be worth to anyone else not in the moura stable. It’s been decades since I set foot in Dorierra, and I long to have a piece of it again.” She said. 

“Give me your address and I’ll deliver it to you myself tomorrow.” You offered her before she gave you her address. 

“Oh, by the way, I shared a ride on the train with two perfectly agreeable gentlemen today, Duke Demsey Voyambi of orcish decent and Count Javyn Jabire, who was troll, what can you tell me about them?” You asked her curiously. 

“I don’t know them well personally, they do a lot of industrial business, I do know that much, but I can find out about them.” Yalin offered. 

“Thank you.” You thanked her before you sat down at one of the tables and played all the card games that were popular in the stables and making many new and fast friends. 

However you didn’t exactly follow Yalin’s word of advice, to hear that The Red Velvet Rope existed had you aching to be touched lovingly and reverently, if not passionately so the very next day after you dropped off what you could to Yalin, you went to the Red Velvet Rope the very next afternoon, because if you were going to suffer through a day of dress shopping with Agnes, you were going to at least do so in as pleasant a mood as possible. 

“How can I help you miss?” The Ladies entrance Abbess - Annie, asked you as you came in. 

“I need every kink in my pipes cleaned out and I want to get railed so hard I have a hard time walking after.” You said which got her to laugh. 

“How long has it been lass?” She asked. 

“Far too long,” You answered honestly. 

“Aye, you’ll be needing Draft then, drink this cup of tea, it will ward off pregnancy, you take a cup before and a cup after and it’ll do the trick and then go to room 17, here’s your mask to protect your privacy too Lass.” She told you as she handed you a gold silk mask which you readily put on before she opened up the velvet rope that covered the entry way to the stairs then ascended the stairs giddily after you drank the tea, familiar with it because you drank it regularly when you were married to Edward and the last thing you wanted was a child to tie you to that family. 

“Wait, did she say16 or 17?” You asked yourself once you reached the hallway as you noticed someone going into fifteen and another going into 18 at the same time while 17 was still in use, very loudly too. 

“Sixteen it is.” You decided as you went into the room and found it clean and ready and quickly got undressed and even put on your own gold lace stockings, instead of your usual white ones and decided to lay seductively on the bed and wait for “Draft” whoever he was. 

Meanwhile Demsey hadn’t been able to get Countess Morrigan off of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes her gold eyes were always behind his eyelids, her delightful giggle in his ears and her smile swooning his heart. He was growing so frustrated, he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in her and had been so ridiculously attracted to her when he met her again. He had asked around and found that there was a moura brothel in London, surely if he could use one, he could get rid of these distracting and frankly improper thoughts about Countess Morrigan. 

It was barely after lunch time and Demsey found himself across the street from the place and walked into the gentlemen’s side of the building which faced one street while the women’s entrance was on the other.  

“What can I do you for?” The Abbess- Maria asked since there were two counters, one for the gambling hall which sprawled out before him and the other next to the stairs, roped off by thick red velvet ropes. 

“I’d like a rut with a moura please.” He confessed. 

“Male or female or something in between?” She asked as she looked at her book. 

“Female.” He specified. 

“Well, I have Bess, Audrey, and Lilly.” She listed off. 

“Audrey,” He decided, because Countess Morrigan’s name had been Audravienne and that was close enough for him. 

“Good choice, that’ll be five pounds, then Sir.” She stated before he readily handed it over and she handed him a gold silk mask to tie around his face so he would not be recognized by anyone else using the place. 

“Room 16, she’ll be in there shortly.” She offered before he nodded and ascended the stairs after she unhooked the rope from it’s place to let him through before he ascended the rest of the stairs before he found a long hallway with red silk wallpaper and red carpeted floors before he walked down the hallway and the right room and all the air crashed from his lungs to see a very sexy moura splayed out on the bed seductively. 

“Well you are built like a draft.” You purred as you sat up and started to stalk down the bed, your gold eyes practically glowing as all of your gold moura marks started to pulse in anticipation as Demsey dropped everything onto the floor as his pupils dilated as wide as they could as he took the sight of you in while his cock was stiffening in his pants while he slowly walked over to you, afraid that if he breathed wrong, you would vanish. 

“So many clothes,” You remarked as you stood on your knees at the foot of the bed and were still chest height with him and reached out to grab them before he realized what he had been in there for as he readily tried to strip out of all of his clothes all at once as you cackled and helped him, remembering how Edward seemed to wear more layers of clothes than you usually did and the second his chest was bare to you- you greedily attached your mouth to one of his pert nipples and began to suck on it while expertly taking off his trousers to get at your prize which caused him to moan. 

Draft was the perfect name for him because he was practically hung like a draft horse too as you had to use both hands to stroke him. 

“Oh Audrey.” He murmured as his hands reached around you and started stroking your petal soft skin and watching the golden feathers on your skin continue to pulse and glow, it was hypnotizing. 

“It’s Audra, Draft.” You corrected in a purr as you noticed his cock practically shot a load of precum all over your hands as he seemed to become putty before you. 

“Call me Demsey then.” He answered which got you to giggle, oh you were going to pretend he was the good Duke now. 

“Perfect, now plough me so hard I won’t be able to walk straight Demsey.” You ordered huskily and that was all the instruction you needed to give him before he practically grabbed your face and kissed you deeply, passionately, like he was pouring his soul into it as he pinned you to the bed and entered you rather roughly, which you needed as your legs had already fell open as wide as they could to accommodate him and he was so large, you finally didn’t feel underwhelmed at the sensation, if anything you were almost overstuffed, but not painfully so before he worked up an earnest rhythm that had your moura marks alight in an equal rhythm with his movements as he feasted on your neck and chest and kissed you like a man starved as you finally felt all the lust you had been lacking in your life breathe into a zealous fire that burned oh so brightly and your heart and soul were being consumed by it.  

In almost record time he was hurtling both of you towards orgasm and Demsey was enthralled to see your moura marks practically constantly pulsing with your pleasure and when your whole body seemed to stiffen as all the marks lit up like soft sunshine as you keened, moaned and whimpered his name as your fingernails dug into the meat of his back and shoulders that indicated that you came which fed his ego and your inward fluttering spurned his own orgasm before he slammed himself into you as far as he could go and finally unloaded himself into you and you were grateful he had done it with good speed before he collapsed fully on you as you both took a moment to bask in the afterglow. 

“Thank you Audra,” Demsey thanked you gratefully, feeling, for now- sated and relieved. 

“Thank you Demsey.” You returned before you kissed him sweetly as the two of you happily helped each other get redressed before you went your separate ways out of the room, Dempsey going one way while you went the other, both of you happily and contentedly sighing as you practically pranced down the steps. 

“And?” Annie asked as she handed you a cup of tea once she let you through the velvet ropes. 

“Draft lives up to his name, built and hung like a draft horse, I’m doing good just walking down the stairs.” You sighed dreamily as you took the cup of tea offered and drank it down before you handed back your mask then left a very generous tip for “Draft” and left to go back home, you hadn’t left the place two minutes before Draft came down the stairs himself, his hooves clattering on the stairs since he was a moura minotaur before Annie handed him his tip from you. 

“Very well done Draft.” She cooed. 

“Thank you, do I have another lady waiting on me?” Draft asked. 

“Nope, you’re clear for now, just make sure the room is ready for the next client whenever they do come.” She answered. 

“Will do.” He said as he went back up the stairs at the same time Audrey was coming down to collect her next client as the maids were busy cleaning up room 16 after just finishing the others next to it. 

“Well done Audrey.” Maria grinned as she handed Audrey her own very generous tip from Demsey. 

“Thank you.” She grinned and put her tip into her coin purse before she got her next client from the casino part of the place.  

#Blood For Gold #Well this is gonna complicate things #regency era orc period drama #orc love story #orcs #moura #orc lemon

[heartsofbeskar]

from the ashes

chapter 7 | read on AO3

din djarin x oc

WARNINGS: violence, blood, mild torture, swearing, mentions of gambling

WORDS: 5.2K

EXCERPT: Knives had always been his last choice, a last resort when his firearms failed him or were no longer an option. They were inefficient in his brutish hands, often requiring close contact and were never a guarantee to kill. But in hers … they were more than just knives, they were instruments, that she played effortlessly to sing a serenade of violence.

He wondered if the Force had anything to do with it, or if she just had that many years of practice.

“You and that casino operator seemed close,” he continued musing into the silent space between them. There were no indications she had heard him, but he knew she had. Maker knew why, Din decided to push his luck. “Did you fuck her?”

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

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Din’s mind whirled faster than light speed as they ran back to her ship.

I am not a Jedi.

The words echoed over and over again. But she had to be … right? Or at least some kind of trainee, like Grogu was. He let his mind dwell on the small foundling. How he’d been able to lift impossible weights for his tiny body, how he’d healed terminal injuries— how he’d choked Cara just as Ten had choked the security officer who’d held a blaster to her head.

But there was no pretending Ten was some helpless creature that just happened to be overloaded with this weird power. She was a grown woman, a trained fighter. She wielded it with precision. She had to have learned how to do that somewhere, somehow.

I am not a Jedi.

The Empire … they chased me too.

If she wasn’t a Jedi, why would the Empire pursue her?

I never knew why—I still don’t.

Had she just lied to him? His skin felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know why the prospect of that bothered him so much. Many people had lied to him before, and he in turn had told many lies. His whole identity was built around an air of secrecy, but … it had felt like an intimate capsule of time, back on that asteroid. Where a barrier had slipped, for the both of them. Din didn’t want to consider it had all been false.

I am not a Jedi.

The ship entered his view, the distance closing much faster than before. Ten didn’t look back at him as she opened the hold and headed directly into the cockpit. He didn’t follow her in.

He sat on the nearest crate, shedding his gloves. He pressed the palms of his hands into his helmet, as if it were skin. A part of him … hoped she was Jedi. That she could get in contact with the ones who had taken Grogu. That he could see him again. Maybe even…

Din shook his head forcefully as he felt the ship jump to hyperspace. It was stupid and wishful for him to dwell on those things.

Ten emerged from the cockpit, avoiding his eyes. She was still wearing her cloak as she hurried into the refresher, and then towards where he sat, holding a small metal box now. He straightened.

“You’re bleeding,” she pointed out. She sat down next to him and rifled through the box. Her thigh pressed against his, and Din had the inexplicable urge to jerk away, which he ignored. He furrowed his brow beneath his helmet, turning to examine himself and — ah. A blaster graze was indeed on his arm, the fabric torn away just below the pauldron. Blood slowly dripped down onto the sleeve.

Setting the box on the ground, she slowly brought her hands up to grip the edges of his pauldron. They stilled there, her eyes lifting to his. Asking for permission. He nodded.

She pried the metal off his arm, and he groaned. He could feel the sting now, the frayed nerves hit by blaster fire. She ripped the fabric further up his arm, exposing the burn and his tanned skin.

“It’s not too bad, just partially got past the beskar,” she muttered, running her fingers over the surrounding area. They were cold, Din noticed. She touched him with a gentleness that didn’t suit her face.

As she began to wipe grime off the area, she said quietly, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

Din turned his face to look in hers, but her eyes were down, staying focused on the burn. Her brows were furrowed. He didn’t even know what the question would be. He settled for silence as she finished cleaning his arm, then reached for a small can of bacta spray.

“This’ll sting.” She began to spray the area. It did sting, but Din registered it only in some far away portion of his mind. He wanted to take the opportunity she’d opened, but his mind was still grasping at the formulation of a thought that didn’t sound … well, stupid.

As she placed a patch on the now scarring burn, he gave up.

“How can you do that if you’re not a Jedi?”

Her eyes finally flickered back up to meet his. “The Jedi do not have nor have they ever had exclusive control over the Force.”

“The Force … that’s where those … powers come from, right?”

She straightened from where she’d been rearranging the first aid box and gave a small laugh. Din … wasn’t sure he’d heard that sound from her before. Not like this.

“Powers, that’s…” she shook her head. “That’s cute, Mandalorian. Yes, the Force is what enables me to do the things most can’t. But it’s all a matter of someone’s connection.”

Ten stood, heading back to the refresher. Din couldn’t help but follow. The questions seemed to be falling out of his mouth now. Grogu had never been able to tell him anything about his powers. It felt as if by learning more he could be closer to him, somehow. Understand his son and the extraordinary life he had lived.

“Connection? What does that mean?”

She half turned towards him, shrugging off her cloak and then her jacket. Wraps encased her forearms, as Din had always seen. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re more curious about this than I thought you would be,” she remarked. Facing the mirror, she turned on the tap.

“You just incapacitated someone without even touching them.”

“A blaster can do that as well,” she said, leaning down and splashing water onto her face. The edges of her hair brushed the sink ledge, the dark strands wetting slightly. Din scoffed.

“A blaster doesn’t—” he stopped. He rubbed a hand along the edge of his helmet, realizing his gloves were still off. “Why did you lie to me before? About the Empire?”

Ten spun quickly to face him, water droplets still dripping down the planes of her face. She narrowed her eyes. “I never lied to you. That armour, your helmet, that’s your Creed. This is mine. Hiding my connection from the Force is the only way I’ve lived all these years. If you were anyone else … I would’ve killed you already.”

Her eyes stayed locked on his helmet, not even blinking. He believed her. And he knew, he could tell, it was something she’d done before. He understood, so he nodded, slowly.

As she passed, he placed a hand on her arm. “I wouldn’t betray you to the Empire.”

She placed a hand on top of his. Din was acutely aware of their bare skin touching. He could feel the texture of her skin. It was softer than he had expected. Was everything about her softer than it appeared?

“People I’ve known for years have sold me out to the Empire. I’ve only known you for less than a month.”

—

Her vision was muddied with the blood that had erupted from her face. It clung to her lashes, falling into her eye, and she tried to rapidly blink it away. Ten spit it out when it accumulated into her mouth. She was afraid to touch her face, afraid of what she would find there.

Good morning, beautiful. Antilles had greeted her that way nearly every morning for as long as she’d known him. Beautiful. She supposed she probably wasn’t, not anymore. Quell had seen to that.

The troopers took turns shoving her with their rifles to move her along. Her ankle screamed its objections, and Ten couldn’t even tell through the blood and sweat if there were tears.

She cried out as she tripped over something hard, falling forward and landing on her forearms. A metal surface. This must be their ship, she realized. A shudder went through her. She tried desperately to reach out to the Force, to feel its steady rhythm beneath her own breathing, but it felt too far away. Pushed down by her own panic.

Someone grabbed her by the collar of her shirt now, pulling her along beside them. She felt them ascending a ramp and then she was unceremoniously thrown towards the floor. Panting, she rested the uncut half of her face on the cool surface under her. Voices filtered through the ship to her ears.

“The asset is secure. We should prepare to leave immediately. You—” A snapping noise. Quell’s voice. “Clean this up, dispose of this waste.”

A different voice responded. “Sir, if I may, it was specified that the asset be delivered unharmed.”

Quell barked a laugh. “The bitch is fine. Surface level, nothing more. It’ll heal and she’ll be just as useful to the Empire as before.”

Ten felt her eyes burning, and she knew now there were undoubtedly tears. She couldn’t muster the effort to be ashamed. Some of the blood cleared from her eye. She focused on the crate that sat directly in front of her, counting the letters of the logo stamped to the side. Footsteps echoed off the metal, louder as they drew closer to her.

“We’re about to have some fun.”

With a small gasp, Ten’s eyes flew open. The hammock she lay in was gently swaying with the movements of the ship. She slowly ran a hand over her cheek. Dry.

She was alone in the ship’s hold. The engines were humming softly. She flexed her hand in front of her; it was still a little sore. One of the wraps on her arm had slipped down as she’d slept. Ten absentmindedly rubbed the tattooed “10” on her forearm. Years ago, she used to rub the skin until it was raw, sometimes on the verge of bleeding. But the ink always remained buried beneath.

Swinging her legs over the side of the hammock, she signed, rubbing the back of her neck. She hadn’t had an outburst like that with the Force in … well, she didn’t like to dwell on the last time it had happened. At least this time hadn’t been disastrous. Maybe she really was in more control, had somehow mastered the connections with no guidance. Or she was just simply fooling herself. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Mando’s footsteps filtered to her as they came down the short hallway. Ten hurriedly rewrapped her arm as he came into view. He’d put his pauldron back on, but not bothered yet to change his shirt — she could still see some of the bare skin around where he’d been burned. The feeling of it under her fingers echoed in her mind.

As he walked towards her, she was hit with the sudden realization of him knowing … and being a Mandalorian, at that. She remembered laying under the stars, Silya’s warm arm wrapped around her. Telling her tales of the ancient days of Mandalore, of their clashes with the Jedi. The enemies of all Mandalorians. Is that how he would view her now? Did she care? She was annoyed that the first response in her mind wasn’t no, of course not.

It felt like she was being laid bare in front of him.

“I went over the communication logs we downloaded.” His helmet was downturned, looking at the holopad in front of him. “The Empire usually slingshots its transmissions around Corellia, Issiluu, and Shih, in specific patterns. I don’t see any of that in here.”

Ten rubbed a hand over her face. “That would make sense, given the levels of security. The Empire would never leave their conspirator without at least a few troopers on the property.”

“We should choose who to check out next so we can get going,” he said, fingers moving quickly over the holopad screen. She rose from the hammock, muscles protesting. He’d put his gloves back on, she noticed. She followed him into the cockpit.

Settling into the co-pilot seat, he pulled up the holographic display which began listing Karga’s associates. He tapped his finger in the corner and it began scrolling through their details.

“I still think we should focus on those who were known to deal in weapons or adjacent industries during the height of the Empire,” Mando’s voice hummed in the background as Ten watched the names go by, along with the imagery of their various business pursuits. They were beginning to blur together and Ten sighed when— she saw it.

“Stop,” she demanded harshly. The screen had already moved forward. Mando’s helmet jerked in her direction. “Go back one. Another one. There— stop it here.”

Ten leaned forward, examining the information. It was the profile of Doman Tosche. He looked mild mannered enough, round face slightly reddened in the display picture. He owned a myriad of businesses in the Core, primarily food and household goods, which he’d recently been exporting further out. The only known connection to the Empire, based on their combined records and knowledge, was a second cousin who’d enlisted decades prior.

None of that was what had grabbed her attention.

There, next to one of his agricultural businesses, Mal’s Production Incorporated. A logo. One she’d seen before.

Blood was dripping down her brow. Her body was wracked with shivers against the cold metal floor. Quell’s voice was in the background, arrogant and spiteful. The crate. The crate sat right in front of her. A logo painted onto the side. She counted the letters. Mal’s Production Incorporated.

She’d seen it before. On Quell’s ship. Years ago.

“He’s working with the Empire,” she said. She didn’t look at Mando. “He always has been.”

“You’re sure?” Ten looked at him now. He had leaned in, just slightly, and his fingers twitched like they wanted to reach. They didn’t. She nodded. “Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, she motioned to the display. “Looks like he has no centralized office, but he was in Canto Bight … two days ago, according to the shipyard logs. We should head there.”

Mando nodded, settling back in his seat, flexing his fingers. He seemed uneasy as she set in their new course. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Is this … is this a Force thing?”

“No,” she said. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the controls. “It’s a memory thing.”

—

“We should try to be back before the sun rises, in case there’s any New Republic officers patrolling.” Ten had her back turned to him, adjusting her weapons. The muscles in her shoulders flexed, and a strangely linear burn scar covered her left shoulder blade. Din’s eyes followed the line of her arm down to where her wrappings covered her skin. He felt a pang of guilt thinking about the glimpse he’d accidentally stolen of the skin underneath earlier. Of the tattoo he guessed she was hiding, though he couldn’t even begin to understand why. But he knew what it was to feel safe in cover, to need to block off physical parts of one’s self. He wouldn’t tell her he’d seen. She continued speaking as she turned around to face him, fastening her cloak at her neck. “I can blend in a crowd, but the beskar’s not exactly … inconspicuous.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. “But I agree, we should be careful. How much do you trust this contact you have here?”

She laughed at that. “Not at all, Mando.”

As they made their way past the bright casino lights, Din could tell the reflections off his armour made her uncomfortable as they moved amongst the city’s tourists. In his experience, the reflections often had the opposite effect she feared — he was like a mirror, where the surroundings drew all the attention, and he became nothing but a neutral piece of the structure.

Ten led him down a narrower side alley, offset from the main casino attractions, which seemed to help her relax a touch, despite its much seedier nature. A few shadowy figures lingered in doorways and Din’s hand came up to rest on his blaster, even though the woman in front of him seemed unbothered by their presence.

A dirty hand lunged out from an alcove as they passed by, grabbing tightly onto Ten’s arm and yanking. With the surprise leverage, the hand — attached to a man with a face equally dirty — pushed her down into the gravel. Din pulled his blaster from his belt but as he pointed it at the man, he had already his own blaster pressed into her temple.

“Go ahead Tin Can, shoot me,” he snarled. “By the time it reaches me I’ll have pulled the trigger on your friend here.”

As if to illustrate his point, he pushed the blaster harder into her temple. His other hand rested on the back of her head, and he pressed her face into the ground. Her hands were pinned beneath his knees. Din felt the blood rushing in his ears, his adrenaline spiking.

“You fucking idiot,” he heard Ten swear at him, her voice muffled.

“Oh, I’m the fucking idiot, eh?” he responded, turning his eyes down to her. Din dropped his free arm beneath his cloak. “You cost us a right lot of credits last time you were here, bitch. Fucked over our whole operation, ya did.”

“Your operation had the constitution of a burlap sack, you absolute—” The rest of her sentence was cut off as Din launched forward, propelled by the phoenix. He slammed his body into the other man, sending them into the opposite wall, and his body protested. The small space filled with smoke and Din pulled the vibroblade from his arm as it cleared. Bringing it down in a swift stroke, he plunged it into the direction of the man’s neck. As it sunk in and blood sprayed onto his chest plate he knew he’d hit the mark.

As the man slumped to the ground, he turned to where Ten had been. She was coughing lightly through the smoke, lifting herself on her elbows. He stepped towards her.

“Are you alright?” He extended a gloved hand down towards her. She ignored it.

“Shit,” she cursed again. Din watched as she slowly rose to her feet, brushing gravel off the front of her body. There was a red mark at her temple where the blaster had been, but he let out a breath when she seemed otherwise fine. Her eyes locked onto his. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Yeah, seemed like you had it all under control,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Some gravel still clung to the smooth skin of her face. Before he could stop himself, his hand reached up and began to gingerly wipe it away.

Her hand darted up to grab him by the wrist. It gripped him like a vice, and neither of them moved. It felt like there was some inflexible string tying them together in that moment, constricting each of them separately. The expression in her eyes was unreadable. It was as if she had her own beskar helmet to cover her outward expression. Din wasn’t even sure they were breathing.

He had no idea how long it had been — seconds? minutes? hours? — when the grip on his wrist finally released. His hand lowered.

“I didn’t need your help,” she said, tone softer than before. Ripping her eyes from him, she resumed their previous path down the alley.

—

Ten clenched her fists, tight enough to hurt, beneath her cloak. If she didn’t, she knew she would shake.

Not from the attempt on her life. No, that was a pretty standard day. And she’d met that man before, when he’d helped run a ring of backdoor casinos, scalping off the legitimate casino profits. The legitimate casinos had, unsurprisingly, hired her to flush out all the information on their counterparts.

No, Ten was shaking because … well, she couldn’t really say why. Was she humiliated? Maybe. Was she annoyed? Most definitely. She wanted to turn on her Mandalorian counterpart and give him the brunt of it, about how she was no damsel in distress for him to save and protect.

It wasn’t completely logical, she knew. They were partners, and someone had her on the ground with a blaster to her head. The second time in so many days. But she bristled all the same.

And the way his hand had brushed off the dirt from her face … what the fuck? Her nerves felt frayed, as if her very skin had been peeled open and set alight.

She didn’t look back at him again as they made their way to the end of the alley. A large metal door was inset in the wall that marked the end. There was no handle of any kind, but a small window at eye level which was shut.

Approaching, she motioned to Mando to stand back behind her. She banged one, two, three times exactly on the door. With a squeak, the metal cover on the small window slid open. It was just large enough to view the eyes of the person on the other side. Their brow was furrowed.

“You have a fathier for today’s race?” a gruff voice asked.

“Yes, he’s being tended to in the thirteenth stable.”

The metal window covering snapped shut abruptly. A moment later the entire door gave a low moan, opening just wide enough for a person to fit through. Ten entered, gesturing for the Mandalorian to follow.

The small room reeked of smoke, more sour and concentrated than the smoke in the alley had been. A large green Trandoshan sat on a stool and leaned against the dirty wall, picking at their teeth. The Devaronian who let them in gave them a short grunt, which she knew to interpret as wait here. He disappeared down another short hallway, which quickly faded to blackness.

Rather than make eye contact with the Trandoshan, Ten turned herself back towards Mando. The single bulb that lit the room reflected off the top corner of his breastplate. His helmet tilted down to look at her.

“A waiting room?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. Experimentally, she clenched and unclenched her fist beside her. The shaking had subsided.

“They don’t allow weapons inside their main casino.” She nodded down the hallway. “And I don’t allow myself anywhere without weapons.”

“I take it this isn’t the operation you fucked over, then,” he said, helmet turning to look back at the entrance. Ten swore she could hear a smirk in his voice.

“I was paid by the big boys to profile everything I could find on illegitimate operations in the city,” she shrugged. “Kirana paid me even more to remain … discrete.”

Before he could say anything in response, a human woman emerged from the hallway with the Devaronian hovering just over her shoulder. She was conspicuously dressed, a bright red gown draped over her body, with a significant dip into her cleavage, opening the expanse of skin. Her red lips turned up into a smile when she entered the room with them.

“My dear nameless friend,” she cooed, embracing Ten’s upper arms. She placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “How lovely of you to grace us with your presence in Canto Bight!”

“Kirana, you’re looking lovely as ever,” Ten gestured beside her. “This is the Mandalorian, he’s helping me with a job.”

“A nameless associate, how very on brand,” Kirana flashed them a dazzling smile. “Tell me, what can I do for my favourite devious double agent, hmm?”

“Doman Tosche,” she spat the name out at no one in particular. “We tapped shipyard logs and apparently he was here just a few days ago. He runs some businesses from the Core, but we— I— think he’s been dealing with Imps since the Empire days.”

Kirana raised a delicate eyebrow. Ten struggled to read the expression in her eyes.

“Not many reputable Core businessmen visit my establishments, I’m afraid.”

“There’s also not many people at all who enter and leave this city that you don’t know about.” With this, the well dressed woman broke into a lilting laugh that echoed off the metal walls. She ran her hands higher up Tens arms, grasping her near her shoulders, and smiled at her.

“Now that you’re right about,” she sighed. “I do know a certain Mr. Tosche was here, he likes to frequent certain girls who work by the betting tracks. However, he left after one night on a passenger caravan. Obviously under a false name if it’s not in the logs.”

Ten gritted her teeth hearing that he was already gone. She turned her head ever so slightly, looking at the Mandalorian from the corner of her eye, before focusing back on Kirana.

“I don’t suppose there’s a chance you know where that ship was headed?”

Kirana shook her head, looking rueful. “Even if I did, they usually make a number of unlogged stops, especially if they’re well paid,” she muttered. Gently, she lifted a hand to cup Ten’s cheek— the same one the Mandalorian had touched, Ten registered, somewhere in a corner of her mind. She pushed it even further back. “But, I do know that he didn’t arrive here alone. A business associate, some sort of manager, perhaps. He stayed on world and has spent the last many hours inside my humble establishment.”

“He’s in there now?” Ten asked, eyes darting to the dark hallway. “Kirana, you have to let me in to get him.”

The Trandoshan stirred now, leaning in her direction, a low growl in its throat. Ten saw the glint of beskar moving beside her.

“Now, now, there’s no reason for any sort of violence here,” Kirana turned her eyes onto Mando, narrowing them. “But you know my rules, dear. No weapons inside my premises. That includes these lovely hands of yours. However, once someone leaves…”

Mando spoke up for the first time since Kirana had appeared. “We’ll be waiting then.”

—

For once, their timing seemed to work out favourably. The man Kirana said worked for Tosche — Hamal Hearns — took less than an hour to stumble out of the back alley casino, yawning and scratching at the stubble that had grown out on his face.

Subduing him was too easy to even be fun, Din lamented. He spent a large portion of the walk back to the Ursa, through the still dark streets of Canto Bight then the deserts of the surrounding area, grovelling and talking about ransoms, about the powerful men he worked for, how they would pay for him, however much they needed. Ten rewarded him with a sharp punch to the nose, after which he fell silent.

She threw him unceremoniously into the storage room Din had adopted as his sleeping quarters. Din could hear him softly crying through the door.

“He shouldn’t need much pushing,” he commented, leaning against the corner of the wall. Ten was in her weapons compartment, seemingly picking out her favourite. He once again found himself marvelling at the sheer number of blades. And the single blaster he knew she carried at her left hip.

Knives had always been his last choice, a last resort when his firearms failed him or were no longer an option. They were inefficient in his brutish hands, often requiring close contact and were never a guarantee to kill. But in hers … they were more than just knives, they were instruments, that she played effortlessly to sing a serenade of violence.

He wondered if the Force had anything to do with it, or if she just had that many years of practice.

“You and that casino operator seemed close,” he continued musing into the silent space between them. There were no indications she had heard him, but he knew she had. Maker knew why, Din decided to push his luck. “Did you fuck her?”

That got her attention. Her hand snapped to his direction. She picked out a large knife, its blade slightly curved, and began walking slowly towards him. He wondered if she finally was going to stab him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Mandalorian,” she came to a stop beside him, her shoulder brushing his. “But yes … I did.”

For another moment, neither of them moved, staring at the other. It seemed to stretch from that second into infinity, and then it ended as quickly as it began. Ten continued down the small hallway to the room where their guest was. Taking a deep breath, Din followed.

Hamal Hearns was on his knees, hands still cuffed behind his back. His face was covered in snot and sweat and tears and a small trickle of blood out of his nose from when Ten had hit him. His eyes brimmed with more tears as she held his chin in one of her hands.

“I have a very simple question for you, Mr. Hearns,” she murmured, her tone much gentler than Din expected. He crossed his arms over his chest, not missing the way the man’s eyes flitted back and forth between them. Ten’s hand on his face tightened.

“Is your boss working for the Empire?”

His eyes widened, tears spilling over, lips trembling.

“Please, please, miss, we wouldn’t do anything like that I promise—”

“Shhh,” Ten cooed. “I’m afraid you misunderstood. You see, I know the answer already, I was just hoping … you could be honest with me.”

She was kneeling in front of him now, and brought her other hand up to the cheek she hadn’t already been holding. He widened his eyes as they stayed locked on her face.

Din had expected some violence, perhaps Ten’s favourite flavour of physical torture, to get the skittish man to tell them what he knew.

But the silence only deepened, and as Ten and Hearns maintained eye contact, he watched the latter’s body begin to shake. He tried to shake his head back and forth, but she held it steady. Blood began to seep from his eyes, falling like tears, then out of his ears, and mouth.

“Please,” he whimpered. He coughed and gasped around the blood in his mouth. “I’ll—” Another cough. “I’ll tell you everything I know! He’s been selling to the Empire for years! P-please just stop!”

Ten leaned back, stretching her hands out. “Good. I knew you’d do the right thing. You’re going to tell my Mandalorian friend everything useful you know. Or I’ll be back.”

He nodded vigorously, not even attempting to cover the sobs that racked his body. Blood still covered his face, but no longer seemed to be freshly flowing.

What had she done to him?

She stood, and Din didn’t miss the shaking in her legs. As she turned, he saw the bags under her eyes that he swore weren’t there when they had entered the room. She laid a hand on his breastplate.

“Take it from here, please, Mando.”

#*writes a chapter twice as long as average* #ummm anyway im v happy w this i hope ppl like it #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian #din djain #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mywriting

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Why So Jaded Chapter 7

FFN, AO3

Chapter 7

Violet woke up actually feeling happy as the imagery of her dream washed over her conscious memory which brought a small smile to her face. But then she heard a groan from Phillip and her smile vanished as she felt anger and rage start to build once again.

She got out of bed and went over to Phillip to see him stirring awake before she took the monitor off of him and put it back where it belonged before she came back and sat on the bed next to him as he went through is process of regaining consciousness before she called for room service for breakfast for herself and her team and knew that dealing with Phillip this morning would be especially bad as she weighed whether or not to wage war with him now or later as she decided that later would probably be best, when he wouldn’t be suffering through withdrawals again because Phillip had quite the history with cocaine especially and it had taken him getting clean as one of her terms for accepting to work for him. Because the chances of him relapsing had been so low and now they were especially high.

27 minutes.

He had done this in 27 minutes. After a year of keeping clean and all those promises of staying that way. All gone. In 27 minutes. That were sadly, the best 27 minutes of this whole trip for her. But it taught her to never let her guard down. And to not trust Phillip as far as she could kick him as she once again, made up her mind that she was never going to enjoy a romantic relationship with him. Never ever. And it was because of this shit right here.

Then Phillip cracked an eye open to see her sitting up in bed, her face was twisted into one of angry disgust but determination as his own memory of last night’s events before his all too brief high came back to him and he exhaled loudly with a wince before Violet turned and considered him.

“Good morning Mr. Sebastian.” Violet greeted coldly with a look that would freeze lava.  

“Ok, on a scale of 1 being a funny haha ‘we’re gonna look back on this and laugh’ and ten being you’re gonna kill me and collect my inheritance, where are we?” Phillip asked with a grimace as he woke up. 

“Oh a solid 8.5.” Violet answered.

“Fuck.” Phillip grunted before he sat up in bed and rested his back on the headboard next to her.

“Did you order breakfast yet? Can I at least get some coffee before you hand me my ass?” Phillip asked.

“I’m not going to hand you your ass Mr. Sebastian. It’s not my place as your handler to do such things. Now when you fully wake up and recover, I will recount last night’s events to you and explain to you exactly all the ways they crossed all the lines of propriety and decorum and then I’m going to absolutely insist that- that stunt you pulled last night was your big test. That Mr. Pine passed with flying colors and any further “testing” by you will result in my immediate termination of employment.” Violet answered.

“No. Please Violet. No. I’m sorry. Ok? I’m sorry, it was just a bad cheap joke. I will take whatever you want to throw at me if it’ll mean you don’t go back to pure asset and handler again. It can’t be that bad. Please. I will get down on my hands and knees and beg if I have to.” Phillip pleaded.

“No such measures will be taken. They are not acceptable terms.” Violet insisted before she heard the knock at the door and went and got it and brought in the breakfast cart and brought it over.

“What would you like for breakfast Mr. Sebastian?” Violet asked.

“Nooo...come on Violet. Just...come on, hit me with all of it, take it out on me. Look I admit, this was on me. I’m sorry. I know I broke my promise to you and I will make it up to you.” Phillip pleaded.

“No, last night was on me. I take full responsibility for the incident. Technically I should fire myself for the lapse in judgement. I’m just happy I won enough last night in the casino to pay for it in cash so I didn’t have to have any other evidence of last night, other than my memory and the cocaine in your body.” Violet answered as she dutifully fixed him a plate and handed it to him on a tray in his lap.

“So, what I need from you is confirmation that no other tests will be administered on Mr. Pine and that you will honor my agreement as set forth in the recording.” Violet offered.

“Of course. But Violet please, please tell me how to make this right.” Phillip begged.

“Mr. Sebastian, words can not fully describe the mortification I felt at seeing my own knock off image in the form of a prostitute and then to have said prostitute offered up to Mr. Pine on a silver platter, it was pure entrapment and you know it. But if that wasn’t enough, I also had to see the same thing in the form of my most cherished mentor. That completely humiliated me in addition to Mr. Pine. But for now, let’s leave him out of it. Let’s keep this with me. I wasn’t by your side for a whole 27 minutes. I had just enough time to go to the bar on the roof and get a drink and then I had to come right back down. I had Veronica inject you with Narcan. I had to scrub not only the room and you but I had to scrub the last 24 hours from two prostitutes to bury the evidence. Thankfully Patrice and Julie are trusted and vetted and were happy to just get paid off. They had to tie you to the bed to keep you from taking your own life again because you were convinced you were a Super yourself and could fly. You tried jumping off the balcony and those two “gifts” that you got Mr. Pine, tried to help you do it too. They also had to be forcibly restrained while getting scrubbed. Your stunt to catch Mr. Pine in a compromising situation, ended up compromising me and it blew up in my face and it illustrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that I have become way too lax in my job because you were in so much danger. And I broke my own promise to protect you and keep you out of harm’s way. And for that I’m sorry.” Violet specified, trying to keep her rage in check but her sadness was so palpable that Phillip felt remorse that it effectively backfired in spectacular fashion before she sat down in a nearby chair and got her own breakfast before Phillip’s security came and got the rest and took it out into the rest of the suite so Violet and Phillip could keep their privacy.

“So now I want to know why you did it. What were your reasons for it?” Violet pressed.

“I just...I wanted you to lose respect for him. I thought he would jump at the chance to relieve any frustrations he may have been having and if I can get him to relapse, he would be breaking his own contract trying to get drugs into SEB. And I wanted to see if he still harbored feelings for Natalia or had developed any for you.” Phillip confessed.

“Well, it backfired, spectacularly. Because the only one who lost respect is you- from me. Second, you’re the one who ended up relapsing. And you’re the one who broke your own contract with me about remaining clean, which technically, means I can now walk away from you and it turns our contract null and void and we are in Vegas at a tech expo, I could, in theory go to any number of your competitors and get the same job I have for them and there would be nothing you could do about it. And if anything this proved you wrong in every aspect you were trying to test. Because Mr. Pine reacted flawlessly. He stopped, he relied on his own security team which they are all thanking their lucky stars that they weren’t involved and he politely but firmly refused the gift and I should have sent that gift packing and been done with it. But instead, I was feeling spiteful because you were sulking and pouting like a toddler for whatever reasons you have for doing so- which pissed me off but it’s my job as your handler to coddle you and cater to you despite however I feel about it. And I let my own personal feelings cloud my judgement which was a very stupid and frankly rookie mistake. And you know me, I rarely let myself repeat the same mistake twice so this mistake will never be repeated.” Violet insisted firmly. 

“So, how you can make up for this- is you are going to honor our agreement we made just as we were leaving, and agree that the stunt last night was your big perfect test for him and admit that he passed and then you are never going to test him again because guess what, I got him to admit it to my face that he looks at me as Mirage 2.0 which means that Objective Natalia has been a success and you’re going to approve weekly outings for him. And then what you’re going to do to make it up to me- is you are going to take the noncompete out of my contract and then you’re going to have to earn my trust and respect back piece by piece and inch by inch to get us back to where we were before this fiasco because while I want to write this off as a dirty trick gone wrong. My hurt and my mortification sting way too badly right now and my own ability to trust you took a big hit because I couldn’t trust you to honor your promise to me to never do drugs again because all it took was 27 minutes. In 27 minutes you have undone a year’s worth of trust building Phillip and I don’t know how long it will take you to earn it back because you know I'm a once bitten twice shy kind of person and I sincerely doubt it was worth it because the Narcan should have reversed it into your system. And my guard is back up and it’s going to take a lot from you to get it to come back down for you.” Violet decided, calmly but firmly and the more she talked, the more her anger dissipated but she still knew that Phillip was using his powers to ease the anger and the rage to push her to forgive him, and for that, her own resentment towards him just grew because the more he used his “secret” powers and the longer it took for him to admit it. The more she distrusted him as Violet and it just pushed her to stay in “Invisigirl” mode with him.

“That’s fair, I’m so sorry Violet. I never considered how this could backfire and I never would have done it if I thought, much less knew this would come back to you in any way. And I’m sorry and again, this is on me, I take full responsibility for this and please don’t let this become the thing that breaks us and losing your trust and your respect is worse than breaking any contract and if there’s anything else I can do to make it up to you, just say the word.” Phillip apologized. Which Violet appreciated.

“God damn it.” Violet huffed as she got up went over to the bed and got settled in next to him and figured she could give him an out to confess to more.

“Why is it almost impossible for me to stay mad at you?” Violet questioned which got Phillip to smile in relief.

“I don’t know, but I’m grateful for whatever it is.” Phillip assured her as he carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders but grinned when she snuggled into his side as Violet could only feel disappointment that even though he didn’t have anything else to lose, he still wouldn’t admit the truth.

“So what’s the number now?” Phillip bravely inquired.

“A five.” Violet honestly answered.

“Ok, well let me know what I can do to lesson it to a one or two.”  Phillip answered.

“Will do Phillip.” Violet answered which got him to grin because she was calling him by his name again.

Violet didn’t have to wait for long. Because once they got dressed and ready for the day and met back up at the Expo, Buddy called out to her.

“Ms. Parr?” Buddy called when she passed him as he walked away from his friends to talk with her one on one.

“Yes Mr. Pine?” Violet asked.

“Hey so my friends would really like to come and pay me a social visit at SEB, is there any way we could try to work something out?” Buddy asked hopefully, even though he had prepared himself for her to say no but Violet just smiled happily.

“Of course Mr. Pine, I’ll handle it personally, granted there will be some protocols that would need to be followed by you and your guests but yes, that can be arranged, simply give me the times and dates according to your knowledge and I’ll arrange it.” Violet answered.

“Really? Why?” Buddy asked before Violet stepped closer.

“To help you forget that the incident last night never occurred and if it would help everyone save face.” Violet answered. “You haven’t said anything to anyone about it have you?” Violet asked worriedly.

“Oh God no. No. No. Never, I’ll happily take that to my grave.” Buddy eagerly assured her.

“Then we have a deal.” Violet offered her hand for him to shake before he took and shook it firmly.

“See you at the announcement Mr. Pine.” Violet offered sweetly before she excused herself and went back to Phillip’s side.

“I found a way to make the situation last night right and a way that everyone can save face.” Violet murmured quietly to Phillip.

“I’m all ears.” Phillip eagerly answered.

“In exchange for Mr. Pine to completely forget about the incident last night and take what could possibly remain to his grave, which was my condition for his request after hearing it because Mr. Pine would never blackmail you because blackmailing you means blackmailing me and he could never bring himself to do that because of 2.0, but if we fulfill this request- we’re back where we were before we left to come here.” Violet began.

“What’s the request?” Phillip asked.

“Mr. Pine would like his friends to come and visit him socially, I warned him that there would be protocols that they would all have to adhere to, like no discussing business or revealing any confidential, proprietary information or property or projects, that kind of thing. And that they would have to be vetted and submit to safety measures.” Violet dictated.

“And that would bring my five to a one. If you’d agree to it.” Violet added as extra incentive.

“Done deal.” Phillip happily agreed, grateful it wasn’t any more worse than it was and if that’s all it would take to get them back to where they were before they left, he’d happily agree.

“And if it would take that one to a zero, I’d be willing to make it a regular thing.” Phillip offered. “Deal and done Phillip.” Violet cooed before Phillip snuck a quick kiss to her temple which got her to blush and smile bashfully and crinkle her nose at him for the PDA since they were surrounded by people but Phillip just beamed a cheesy smile of his own.

The announcement of the collaboration was received well and true to Violet’s predictions and intentions it garnered a lot of positive press for both of them.

“Mr. Sebastian, care to comment about the recent photos that came out showing you in a private moment in the hotel’s swimming pool with a close colleague, is there a romance blossoming between you? Is this the rumored girlfriend that we have seen by your side repeatedly for the last year?” A reporter asked before Violet did a quick search as she stood behind the scenes and found the pictures in a tabloid and sent them to Phillip’s own tablet in front of him that had all the press release announcements and talking points on it.

“No. As always, my personal life is personal and no business of yours or anyone else and I will not be taking any more questions on the topic.” Phillip said simply as Buddy looked up the pictures on his own tablet quickly and found them.

“Mr. Pine? Do you have any comment on…?”

“No I do not. And I would also appreciate it if this conference could get back on track.” Buddy insisted before he steered the conversation back to the technology and why they were there which Violet was grateful for.  

Once the expo was over and they had gotten back, he was grateful Violet stayed and helped him settle back in.

“How often does that happen?” Buddy asked.

“How often does what happen?” Violet asked as she hung up his suits in his walk in closet for him.

“How often does your relationship with Phillip get questioned by the media?” Buddy specified.

“Every single time he speaks to the press.” Violet answered.

“Doesn’t Phillip care that every time the media gets your picture and knows your name because you are working for him under your name and not a pseudonym that- that puts you at risk of being found out?” Buddy questioned, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

“It was part of the contract that I work for him under my own name. Because he wanted to make sure that he was getting the real deal and the genuine article and "all of me" and 100% transparency and if anything ever happened to him, that I wouldn’t have any confusion trying collect payments as someone other than myself and my family because I’m actually in his will. Which works out, because it does make things a whole lot more simpler in real life instead of having to answer by a different name and identity. All I have to watch out for is not using my powers in front of people who don’t already know the truth but among Phillip’s closest friends, they all know who I am and who I really am and they know that I’m his own private personal Super who's on constant retainer and if they cross him, they deal with me which is all the deterrent I need to be for most of them and I’m not the only one in my position. More and more of the rich and famous have learned that they can just rent or buy their own Super, either on their own, which makes finding them in the first place difficult. Or they just go to the source- aka The Agency and get one from there because more and more The Agency has turned into "Rent-A-Center for Supers". And as long as Invisigirl isn’t caught with Phillip in any compromising situations, because all Invisigirl is- is a ghost anymore, and all anyone has ever seen of me as her is when I was a teenager in my old suit and not in my current super suit or any other super suit I've had since then, and I've had a lot of them. How you recognized me in my new suit, was a surprise, but one that I appreciate that you keep to yourself and don’t breathe a word to anyone, which is a protection in of itself. Most people just think I’m some other Super when and if they ever see me as her anymore, like Black Widow or Shadow or DejaVu or Mirror or any number of them, but those are usually the most popular.  So, yes it’s a risk, but it’s also a hassle I don’t have to add to my already full plate. Besides, in two years, it won’t matter. And every rumor that springs up, only keeps Phillip in the spotlight that much longer, which is something I think he would die if he had to go without.” Violet appraised as she just continued to put his things away, neatly and orderly as Buddy just helped her, handing her his things and watching in awed adoration how wonderful it was to see her be so down to earth and domestic, being barefoot in his closet since her heels had been kicked off by the door and had him hoping and praying that while they were both at SEB that that wasn’t the only time he would ever enjoy this as the emerald necklace he had managed to get for her practically burned a hole in his pocket.

Nelson had gotten it for him because out of all the people that were on Buddy’s team, Buddy and Nelson got along the most and Nelson was secretly shipping his boss with Buddy because he had noticed the marked change in Violet whenever she was on “Buddy duty” and he liked how nice and sweet she was whenever she got to spend time with Buddy and it was Nelson who secretly suggested to Buddy to get her an emerald necklace after what had happened at the black jack table and Buddy had simply given Nelson the vast majority of his winnings to buy what Nelson would think she would like since Nelson knew Violet better than Buddy did and what Nelson had come back with- made Buddy so happy. It was on the small side, so it wasn’t gaudy or too flashy for Violet’s tastes, something she could wear everyday and feel special in without drawing too much attention by anyone but the very observant.  

“Actually, with how little I get to see my parents now, even though we all live right here in Metroville and they only live across town, they usually use the tabloids to figure out where I am and what I’m up to.” Violet confessed as she was done and knew that if she spent any more time in Buddy’s closet, she was going to reorganize it to keep her hands busy so her mouth could run and she needed to stop talking before she let out any more secrets or possibly tell on herself even more and risk ruining the friendship she was enjoying with Buddy by wanting something more from him. 

“You really are just an emerald, in too tight of a setting huh?” Buddy asked.

“Yeah, part of me wants to buy a loose emerald and keep it in my pocket and I can just pull it out and threaten to drop it to illustrate how close he is to destroying the one thing he “claims” is most important to him. But he just doesn’t...he doesn’t care enough to loosen the setting or back off enough to just give me breathing room. Where I don’t have to constantly filter everything I say or do because there’s always eyes and ears wherever I go.” Violet answered as she took up leaning against the opposite side of the door frame from his bedroom to his closet as once again, their body language mirrored each other.

“Is it worth it though?” Buddy asked.

“It has to be doesn’t it?” Violet returned but she didn't sound convinced.

“I don’t think it is. You shouldn’t put a price, even as one as high as the one you’ve named, on your sanity or integrity, because if you break, the world will lose one of the greatest gems it has and we’ll all be helpless in mourning it’s loss and if you ever find yourself teetering on the precipice, shatter this before you let yourself be shattered.” Buddy offered before he handed her the box which got Violet to frown in confusion at it before she took it and considered it thoughtfully.

Violet opened it and fought not to cry. It was such a small, simple but elegant and beautifully crafted necklace that was Edwardian in design. It was perfect. And the meaning behind it made it even that much more precious.

“Thank you Buddy.” Violet thanked him as she easily enveloped him in a tight hug that Buddy was all too happy to return and they just spent a blissfully long moment hugging each other and clinging to each other and Buddy didn’t let go until Violet did.

“Thank you, I needed the reminder. And the hug.” Violet confessed as she tried to blink away the glassiness in her eyes and it was Buddy who gave her a small, sad smile. Saying so much without needing to say anything and for that she was eternally grateful and Violet looked at him and realized that if she stayed another minute, she was liable to show him and tell him everything and she couldn’t let herself be that vulnerable, not yet anyway, and not when there were so many eyes and ears watching and listening.

“I should go, I have myself to unpack. Let me know when your friends want to come, and I’ll do what I can to make them feel welcome.” Violet offered before she excused herself from his bedroom.

“Good night Buddy, get some rest, you’ve earned it.” Violet offered over her shoulder as she did as Buddy followed her out.

“You too Violet.” Buddy mirrored. Damning himself for not being brave enough to say more.

Violet went straight to her car and drove home, the small box tightly in her fist as she wondered how he had managed to get this. Because Veronica hadn’t said anything about this, nothing about visiting a jewelry store or even a pawn shop when she had sent in her report on the flight home as part of her debriefing. She wondered if perhaps one of Buddy’s security detail had done this as she mentally tried to figure out who it was before the memory of Violet getting flustered by staring at Buddy chest and arms came to mind and how Nelson had reacted to her reaction.

Good on Nelson.

Once Violet got home she went and got into her spy gear and put the box into a compartment.

“Scan and report.” Violet demanded as she sat and waited for the box and it’s contents to be scanned and prayed that it wouldn’t find anything bad, like some malware or any kind of tracker that she couldn't detect herself and anxiously waited as she put her other things away before the device chirped at her and she smiled in relief when the only objects of the jewelry box, was a necklace, made out of diamonds, emeralds and platinum inside a cardboard and velvet box. That was it. Then she took it out and happily put it on herself and looked in the mirror and couldn’t stop smiling. She could wear this every day and be perfectly happy and feel special. It was such a small but powerful thing.

Meanwhile Phillip had watched the feed and frowned before he realized he needed to one up this gesture before he called the best jewelry store in town and had them open back up just for him so he could get the perfect set of emerald jewelry for Violet and then once he had made his purchase he then went back to SEB to get it “finished”.    

Monday morning Violet put together her most flattering green outfit to match her new necklace and even did her hair in luscious curls again and did her makeup extra beautifully and practically strut into work.

“Good morning Phillip, hope you slept well, what do we have for Mr. Pine this morning?” Violet asked as she came into his office.

“Uh, nothing new, hey I got you something,” Phillip said as he presented her with a hard leather jewelry set case before Violet paused and looked at it and looked at him before her shoulders dropped and fixed him with a look.

“Really? You just up and decided to get me jewelry? Out of the blue?” Violet questioned wearily.

“Well, no not out of the blue. Look, what the psychic said struck a chord with me and I knew I couldn’t get you anything while we were out in Vegas because I wanted it to be a surprise so I waited until we came back and got it for you last night, it’s my way of making up for what I did to you over the weekend.”

“Phillip, jewelry is not gonna fix…oh my God!” Violet exclaimed when he opened it and Violet’s jaw and heart both dropped as she set both hands on his desk on either side of it and stared in disbelief at it. It couldn’t be real. Before she started to touch it but her own sensitive senses were telling her this was crawling with "bugs" and she subconsciously pulled her hand back.

“Oh I beg to differ.” Phillip smugly countered.

“And you’re already wearing the perfect outfit.” Phillip cooed as he came around to take the other necklace off but Violet side stepped him and out of reach.

“Phillip? How much did you spend on this?” Violet asked.

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you love it, that’s all that matters.” Phillip insisted.

“Yeah, no. Phillip, is this real?” Violet pressed.

“Yeah it’s a real necklace and bracelet and ring and earrings and everything.” Phillip confirmed.

“No, like, genuine, this isn’t costume jewelry or…” Violet began.

“Oh no, it’s the genuine article.” Phillip assured her before he pulled out the jewels from the case and showed her the providence letter under them in the case and Violet gasped when she saw the price and saw that it was down in writing that it belonged to her.  

“Phillip, no, no I can’t accept this.” Violet tried to argue.

“But I thought you liked it?” Phillip questioned.

“No, I do, I love it, it’s beautiful, it is single handedly the most amazing jewelry I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m so profoundly flattered and honored but Phil, I need like six bodyguards if I’m going to wear it in public, this is- 'wear this with a gown on the red carpet or attend a gala' kind of necklace and otherwise keep it locked up in a safe to keep it from being stolen kind of necklace. It’s too much, I’m overwhelmed.” Violet tried to explain as she felt panic grip her chest and her stomach churn.

“No, no, Sweetheart, no, don’t be overwhelmed. You are the most precious, most amazing jewel in the universe and I wanted to make sure you knew that and I wanted to make sure you felt it in every fiber of your being. You’re practically a goddess, and this is my offering of worship.” Phillip cooed as he came around and hugged her from behind and Violet felt his powers push her anxiety down and pumped euphoria into her and she couldn’t help it she wracked a sob which alarmed Phillip who came around and hugged her from the front as he did all he could to calm her down and soothe her.

“I’m sorry it’s overwhelming. I'm not trying to force you to take it. If it’s too much too fast, and I’m coming on too strong just tell me.” Phillip realized.

“Phillip, it’s too much too fast and you’re coming on too strong. I’m flattered and honored, I really am but come on. I know you’re just making the biggest, and probably the most romantic gesture you can but you know how practical I am and you already know if it's romantic- that that puts us into too dangerous of territory. Take it back, get your money back. And if you still want to get me something emerald or whatever and something nice. Take what I’m currently wearing as your cue of the size and grandeur that I’m comfortable with. Something smaller, a bit more discrete. Something that I will feel comfortable wearing on special occasions or even every day or just on the days I want to feel extra special. OK? Can we compromise on this? Please? Or you can start off small and work your way up, like a good anal plug set.” Violet tried to tease through the last of her tears which got Phillip to chuckle.

“Ok, I got you. Loud and clear, let me go and try again.” Phillip offered.    

“Thank you, but before you go, let me at least get a picture of it, like a keepsake.” Violet offered before she got a picture of it.

“Ok, now I gotta go back to my office and straighten up and Mr. Pine is probably wondering how late I slept in this morning.” Violet urged as she gave him a sweet kiss then took her tablet and went to her office and got her emergency makeup set out and went to her private bathroom and got straightened up.

“What the fuck are you doing Violet, you should have taken the jewels. Should have taken them and graciously accepted them. They were perfect and gorgeous and amazing, but no- your humility and self worth issues strike again to ruin all your good things.”  Violet muttered to herself as she got her things and went down to Buddy’s floor.

“Good morning Mr. Pine, I apologize for the delay, Mr. Sebastian had an unexpected...uh...development.” Violet tried to excuse herself.

“Everything ok?” Buddy asked as he looked her over carefully because he could sense something was seriously wrong and off.

“Have you been crying?” Buddy breathed in a whisper and Violet could only nod as tears came flooding back to her eyes as the panic came back with a vengeance because Phillip's powers weren't there to suppress it.

“Excuse me, I need to use your restroom.” She excused herself as she dumped her things on his counter and quickly ran as fast as her pencil skirt would allow and went into his lab’s bathroom where she knew there was no cameras or listening devices and broke down again, sitting on the toilet seat cover and just wracked sob after sob as Buddy could only pace outside the bathroom because to see her upset was upsetting him and hearing her cry was torturing him worse than anything.

“Violet, please, please let me in, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Buddy pleaded through the door as he pressed his forehead to the door.

“It’s open.” Violet managed to say before Buddy slipped in and saw her sitting on the toilet, her makeup a mess and shaking and he was on his knees in front of her in an instant and curling as much of himself around her in a subconscious effort to protect her and shield her and comfort her as his hands ran down from her arms to her hands before she held onto both of his hands with both of hers so, so tight.

“Violet, what happened?” Buddy pressed, getting choked up and emotional himself as he started crying watching her cry because this was hurting him way worse than that jet turbine ever could.  

“I can’t take much more of this.” Violet confessed before she, out of habit, put up a forcefield around them because if she didn’t tell him, tell someone safe, since he was the only safe person she had left, she was going to die.

“You gave me this beautiful, amazing, sentimental gift which I love and appreciate so much and I’m so flattered and honored that you would go through so much trouble that even when you’re locked up in here and there’s so many layers of security between you and the outside world and you go through all that trouble of smuggling it in here just to get it to me. And it means so much to me. And Phillip had the audacity to try and one up it, and he did so in about 12 hours. I came into work early, I tried to color coordinate with the necklace because I wanted you to see me in it and see that I appreciated it. And what did he do? He gifted me a 35 million dollar emerald jewelry set. The only thing this didn’t have was a fucking tiara, it had this huge gaudy necklace that would break my collar bones if I tried to put it on with emeralds as big as my eyeballs and diamonds even bigger than that and earrings that would pull my ears off my head and a ring that I would drown me if I tried to go swimming wearing it and a bracelet that would yank my arm out of my shoulder socket. And it was too much. It was so overwhelming and when I tried to refuse, he used his powers to push me to accept it and force euphoria into my head and push my feelings of discomfort out with it and he went on and on about how 'I’m this amazing jewel of the universe and how I’m a goddess and it was a gift of worship' and it was too much. He’s never forced his powers on me that strongly before and I panicked. And it took so much begging and pleading just for him to see that I would never feel comfortable ever wearing it without a full security detail of my own- for him to back off. And I just said everything and anything I could to get myself out of there and thank God I could come and see you. Part of me wants to move in here with you and only want to see Phillip twice a day or twice a year or twice a decade for that matter instead of the other way around. And now he’s on his way back to the jewelry store to get me something smaller.” Violet professed between hard, wracking sobs. 

“And the worst part is, is because of my powers that I'm so incredibly sensitive to technology and anything and everything that runs on electricity or any kind of current and signals, even the human body or animals, I'm even sensitive to electromagnetism, I can tell when there’s cameras and listening devices especially. And that jewelry was practically crawling with them, and it feels like it's spiders, creepy crawly spiders, just crawling and infested with spiders and it made my skin crawl, they were embedded under every single big jewel into its socket so that whenever I wore it, wore all of it or just a piece of any of it- it would be just another tracking device, another way to keep me under the microscope.” Violet bawled. 

“And I hate it and I hate how it’s like he plays dumb. It’s like he has no idea that I know. And I can’t confront him. I could and would lose my job and my head because every other Super who’s had this job, it was all the surveillance and counter-surveillance that pushed them to quit because they couldn’t take it. That’s the setting that’s too tight. Knowing that every single moment of every single day I'm being watched and recorded and anything and everything I say or do can and will be used against me, like I'm constantly under a superpowered microscope and constantly scrutinized and judged and it's like it's suffocating me and smothering me and I can't breathe. And if Phillip actually, honestly cared about me and loved me as much as he claims, wouldn’t he be honest about all of it? Wouldn’t he back off? Wouldn’t he admit to me and go ‘hey, I’m actually a Super like you and these are my powers’ and I have given him countless opportunities to come clean, to tell me, make him feel like he has nothing to lose and everything to gain by telling me and if he were to actually ask me if I want them used on me instead of being forced onto me. It would make all the difference in the world. Especially since they’re mind control and feeling control, it’s so invasive and it undoes me from the inside out.” Violet shuddered as Buddy felt like his heart just got ripped out of his chest and put back into a blender.

“He would, if he really wanted to love you, he would.” Buddy confirmed.

“And the sad part is, sometimes I like it, and am so grateful for it, like when I’m having panic attacks and breakdowns like I’m having right now, it’s nice to get extra help to calm down or when we’re having sex and he’s closer than I am but he want’s to be gentleman so he pushes me and gets in my head and gives me that extra push to get me to the finish line. But when it’s against my will and against my own genuine feelings, it's different. When I’m mad at him for fucking up or pissing me off by playing head games, he forces me to get over it and forgive him and get over it or he uses my strong emotions and flips them like a light switch so one minute I’m so mad at him I want to push him off this building and he flips it in a snap and suddenly I’m having the hottest sex of my life fucking his brains into oblivion while he does the same for me, like break up sex and makeup sex all rolled into one. And it feels awesome in the moment, like I’m having sex with God, like I’m perfectly high and relaxed and so into it and so far into the zone, it’s a different time zone, not even the same continent and it’s just pure bliss and then I get far enough away from him where his powers can’t reach me, then my real feelings come back and they come back with a vengeance and it's even worse after than it was before and I regret all of it and I feel sick and dirty and no better than a prostitute only it's not just my body that's being bought, it's my mind and soul too. And when he does drugs, it amplifies it and make it almost impossible to resist, even as a super and normal humans don't stand a chance. That’s why I had to scrub those hookers in Vegas, because they gave him coke and MDMA and he was so strong, one of them was practically a mindless drone. It’s why him doing drugs is one of my deal breakers because even I and the strongest Supers I know can’t resist him when he’s on them. No one can.” Violet choked out.

“Because he’s…!” Buddy began, before he growled dangerously because he wanted to scream but he couldn’t freak her out or scare her any more than she already was.

“Violet, he is raping you! Every time he pushes it and you don’t want it- that’s literally the definition of rape Violet. It doesn’t matter how awesome the sex is, if it’s unwanted, it’s rape. Period. It’s not sex any more because if he didn’t have his powers, you’d be able to resist him and kick his ass so hard, you’d break his fucking pelvis in. Like this is Jessica Jones and Purple Man level of fucked up shit.” Buddy pointed out doing his best to keep his voice down, even as hard as it was not to holler and scream all this at the top of his lungs.

“I know. But there’s nothing else I can do. And after, I just throw up, I throw up so much because I’m so sick of myself and that’s the only way I can look this good and still eat the way I do which is just one step away from an eating disorder. And I hate myself so much for it. And then when he gets me lavish gifts it’s like he’s buying me and buying my forgiveness with stuff, it’s expensive stuff but it just makes me feel so cheap. And no matter how much I try to explain it away and reason it away, it’s like dealing with an alcoholic, until they admit that they have a problem, they’re never going to see it. And I’ve been doing everything in my power to save all of this for my last day of work two years from now and hand him his ass in all the ways I want to and have been fantasizing about. And it’s like he’s trying so hard to turn me into a gold digging, materialistic, manipulative, dominatrix queen, and I hate it. Not to knock BDSM, there’s nothing wrong with it when it’s done safely, consensually and willingly by everyone involved but it’s just not for Violet. Invisigirl can do it all, no problem but Violet is very vanilla. But he’s my asset and I have to coddle and cater to him and do whatever it takes to get the job done, those are my unquestioning and unwavering orders. And I can’t find a replacement to save my life. Literally. And I’m stuck. I’m stuck in a setting that’s too tight and it's trying to carve itself into me, chipping away at me until I fit right.” Violet confided between hard sobs and Buddy never saw more red in his life. He wanted nothing more than to destroy Phillip. He wanted to blow up this building. He wanted Phillip’s head on a platter and then flambéed.

And all Buddy could do was cry while holding onto her hands as he knelt in front of her and tried to protectively curl his body around hers as much as he could and he felt so...helpless. He hated it.

“Violet you have to get away from this. You have to get out. Fuck contracts, fuck the money, you can have every red cent I have. I will find a way to get you wherever you want or need to go. You need to save yourself. Stop trying to save everyone, especially me when it’s you who needs the most saving. Alright, look, I’ll come clean. Cause keeping this from you has been killing me, and I’m so sorry but I’ve been having secret correspondence through my shipping labels sending coded messages to IRize and Zone and all my other companies because I’ve been trying to get all your medical data out of here and safe so that even if Phillip were to try to hold your meds over you to keep you with him, you would have another source, a safe and secure one and one that wouldn’t come with terms and conditions or strings of any kind. And the reason I was so nervous before I left was because my companies all offered to spring me free while we were in Vegas and I told them repeatedly not to, not until I could get you and your meds and everything pertaining to you- safe and secured. And I know I lied to you on Friday and I felt awful and I was so relieved when it was just the hookers at the room because I genuinely thought I would get to my room and find my own guys there to overtake the security and get me away. But I couldn’t do that to you because your trust and your friendship and these precious two months being with you mean more to me than my own freedom. I will stay here as long as I need to, I’ll stay here five, ten, twenty years if I have to and I’ll kiss the outside world goodbye if it means you can walk away free and live in it and heal from all the hurt that prick has done to you. Get out of here Violet. Go. If I can survive a jet turbine, I can survive anything and everything Phillip wants to throw at me, powers be damned.” Buddy confessed as he squeezed her hands so tight as his tears streamed down his face as Violet just stared in shock at him.

“Break the necklace Violet, break the necklace and throw it in his face, come clean and tell him that you know everything, expose him for what he really is, bring hell to his doorstep, give him the bird right before you vanish so he never can find you again. And I will do everything I can to dismantle his empire brick by brick if I have to if it means that you never have to deal with him ever again. He is abusing you. He’s beating you without ever having to throw a punch and that is the worst kind of abuse there is. Violet please. I can’t take this, it’s a miracle you’re still alive and sane. Violet you are cracking. How many more hits will it be before you shatter?” Buddy pleaded desperately.

"I don't know." Violet confessed as she cried a new wave of tears.

“Look, I’m good at fixing things but even this is beyond me. I will be whatever you need or want me to be. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything and everything if it means you’ll be ok. Please, Violet, please, please, please.” Buddy begged before he brought her hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles, squeezing his eyes so tight and Violet was so moved because it was Buddy who genuinely cared for her. Even when he had so much to lose, he’d give what little he did have up for her and if he was exposing himself like this. He was being as honest and as transparent as he could be and Violet couldn’t be more grateful or more moved. Now that she knew that, she could help hide it even more.

“You won’t make it that long. The only reasons I’ve not said anything is because every single person who’s ever confronted him about his powers- is dead. And the reason they’re dead is because he plants something of a computer virus into their heads, into their minds and it drives them insane to the point they commit suicide, sometimes within days, sometimes within hours, sometimes within minutes. Minutes. Buddy, I’m terrified you are going to make it three years and a day. I’m so scared you’re going to leave this place and be within a five hundred foot radius of him so he can plant the bug in you. And then you’re going to go home and kill yourself because he’ll do the same thing to you. I’m afraid I’ll do the same thing because if he can’t have me, no one can because he’s so possessive and jealous and dangerous. He proved it with this necklace thing. You dared to give me anything, the smallest of things. Something tangible and he had to outdo it. And you’re not the only one who’s been in contact with others about this situation. I haven’t quit because as bad as all this abuse is, it’s still not as bad as losing you. I can’t lose you. You’re the one good thing in my life right now. And I don’t want him to use you against yourself by pushing you to take your own life or use you against me or me against you or me against me. Which is why I put a clause that in the event of your death, doesn’t matter how you die, everything you touch, all the royalties go back to your own companies. That’s why I’m pushing you to get your hands on everything you can design wise and putting your name and your mark and your seal on everything I can get my hands on. Yeah, you’ll lose percentages now, but if push comes to shove, at least everyone you employ will be ok and your second empire won’t fall like the first one did. This is why I haven’t had any romantic relationships while I’m here- is because Phillip has already torpedoed every attempt and sabotaged it. And it’s why I’m fighting myself so hard to not get closer to you because I don’t want him to sabotage us. He has me backed into a corner but the thing is, you’re behind me and I’m the only thing between you and him. And I’ll bear this and be your shield till my dying day because it has to stop somewhere. And it stops here, it stops with you and right this second, Jack is working on a way to expose Phillip’s powers and find a way to shield me and shield you from them and I’ll do all I can to at least protect your security guards at least so they don’t turn on you. Jack and Edna have been working on it for a year. All they need is time. Can we please, give them time. They’re so close. Just a little longer. Just endure this with me a little longer.” Violet confessed as she held onto his hands like they were a lifeline.

“For me? Can you do that for me?” Violet begged.

“Only for you. But the second it’s ready, we’re out of here.” Buddy insisted.

“I’ll spring you myself.” Violet finally smiled as her anxiety finally calmed down and she felt absolution and relief as it subsided as she let go of his hands to reach for the toilet paper to wipe up her streaking makeup before Buddy got up and some paper towels and got them wet with hot water in the sink before he handed them to her.

“Damn it, I really liked the way I did my makeup today too.” Violet tried to laugh as she just used it to wipe off all her makeup.

“You don’t need it, you’re beautiful no matter what and you could wear burlap and bring it into fashion, not that you care about that kind of thing.” Buddy assured her.

“Thanks. Jack tells me the same thing every time I see him.” Violet chuckled before she finally finished wiping it all off and throwing the now dirty, cooling paper towels in the trash before she happily pulled Buddy into a tight hug which he was more than ready to return. He had wanted to kiss her. But with the way Phillip used his powers in that aspect of her life, he knew if he tried to push any kind of romantic, intimate gestures now- it would not go over well and she would probably reject them and him. She was too gun-shy. If she wanted to be romantically intimate with him, she’d have to make the first move because he sure as hell wasn’t going to push it. She needed a friend and a confidant right now and that’s what he was going to be.

“Thank you so much, please, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” Violet pleaded.

“Only until we have an out.” Buddy compromised.

“Deal.” Violet huffed a laugh.

“Goodness you give the best hugs. I could hug you all day long if you let me.” Violet confessed with a halfhearted giggle as she nuzzled her face into the crux of his neck and shoulder absolutely relishing this because this hug was all she could ask for from a hug.

“Well you know where I am. Come and get one whenever you want.” Buddy offered as he wanted to kiss the crown of her head, but resisted. The poor girl just needed a platonic hug. He could give her that.

“Don’t offer anything you’re not fully prepared to be taken up on.” Violet playfully warned.

“I never do.” Buddy reassured her with a wry grin.

“I’d have to do it while I’m invisible though. I could give you three taps on the arm in warning before I do.” Violet urged.

“Yeah, about that, uh, because of your similar powers to Tali, she taught me how to find her even when she was invisible, because I can feel just about all the hairs on my body stand on end when you’re close enough to me.” Buddy confessed.

“Huh. Interesting. Well, again, three taps and then get to a bathroom because there’s no cameras or listening devices in them but there are some just outside of them. Cause otherwise to see you hug air will be suspicious.” Violet proposed.

“You got it.” Buddy readily agreed.

“And then, slowly but surely, if you could teach me the way you’re encoding the messages, I’ll try to learn it and if you’d be ok with me sending a few of my own so I can get something established with them too, just in case something goes sideways, to make safety nets and contingency plans and I’ll happily show you them so you know what I’m saying and telling them so we can coordinate.” Violet offered.

“Yeah, actually, the delivery guy, Jack Reacher- he’s my secret liaison to my other companies.” Buddy confessed with a wince but when Violet giggled he breathed out a breath of relief.

“Hiding in plain sight, I like it. That’ll make it easy, I can claim I need him to deliver stuff and mail stuff through him myself. Whatever I mail, will it still get delivered?” Violet asked.

“Yeah, it’s just the shipping labels that he intercepts but the packages themselves are benign.” Buddy assured her.

“Then I need to have some serious and very steady correspondence with The Agency about my replacement and their training then and nothing is more reliable than actual hard copy paper, a proper paper trail.” Violet insisted as she begrudgingly started to let go of him and regain some semblance of personal space.

“When my friends come to visit me, would you want to hang out with us?” Buddy asked.

“Would I be the only girl with a group of guys?” Violet asked.

“Nope, because I’m going to be extending the invitation to their wives and families.” Buddy revealed.

“Then yes, I’d love to come. Can I bring anything?” Violet asked hopefully.

“Just yourself.” Buddy answered with a subtle shake of his head.  

“Wine it is then.” Violet giggled before she let down the forcefield.

“Thank you for helping me calm down. You really are a big, tall, pine tree that’s a refuge. At least for me.” Violet praised.

“And I’ll happily be that for you for as long as you want me to.” Buddy answered with a fond grin before she took another step and kissed his cheek sweetly that melted Buddy right where he stood.

“Thank you. Now, let’s get back to business before Phillip loses his goddamn mind not being able to see me for more than a minute.” Violet urged as she straightened up and left the bathroom before she made a pained sound because all the cameras and listening devices were turned up to the maximum level as she subconsciously held her stomach.

“Woah you ok?” Buddy asked.

“Yeah, just a wave of nausea because they’re turned up.” Violet answered as she managed to get to the counter and thankfully once she was able to move forward she could feel them start to turn down again.

“Ok, so um about your personal social visit, who exactly do you want to come?” Violet began before Buddy gave her the names of all his friends and their wives and their kids names and their phone numbers and email addresses and how to best get a hold of them which Violet dutifully got and notated.

“OK, I’ll get started on all of this. See you again this evening Mr. Pine, good luck with your projects.” Violet urged him as she went back to her office to do her makeup for the third time that day as she put in all the information into her computer before Phillip came back into her office.

“Hey, you changed your makeup again.” Phillip noticed.

“Yeah, I had to.” Violet answered as Phillip simply hummed in pretensive befuddlement.

“Were you able to watch what happened in Mr. Pine’s lab?” Violet asked after a beat.

“No, did something happen?” Phillip lied which caused Violet to clench her jaw.

“Well, Mr. Pine noticed that I was upset and when he asked me about it, I had a panic attack and ended up locking both of us into his bathroom and he was inside the bubble when I couldn’t help but put it up and it took all of Mr. Pine’s wits to get me calmed down and for me to feel safe enough to let down the forcefield.” Violet answered.

“What...why? I thought I was able to help with that before you left.” Phillip questioned.

“You did. But Phillip…” Violet started as she felt tears prick her eyes again.

“I’m just having a bad day. That’s all there is to it.” Violet insisted as she tried to refocus and keep her emotions in check.  

“No, I don’t believe that. Come on Violet, you can tell me.” Phillip pleaded as he pushed his comfort onto her and she immediately bolted to get some space as she clutched her stomach again and figured now was as good as any to use this to her advantage.

“Phillip, something is wrong with me. I’m becoming paranoid and suicidal. Like when we were in Vegas and you did that coke and you thought you could fly and those hookers tried to help you- I had to fight so hard not to jump off the balcony myself. I don’t understand it, maybe it’s the pressure or something.” Violet said and saw Phillip’s eyes widen in horror just a little before he tried to school his expression again.

“But I feel like I’m being watched and listened to everywhere I go, even in my own apartment and it’s like I can sense little trackers in all my devices and they make me feel so much dread or listening devices- it’s like they ring in my ears and make me so nauseous. I’ve been trying so hard to keep this to myself because I know it sounds crazy and insane but Phillip, I’ve been battling this ever since I started working with you and it started off small at first, but the more I do this job and the closer I am to you and give into my feelings for you, the worse I feel and the worse it feels, I’m throwing up all the time and I can feel the enamel wear on my teeth and the psychic was right, I’m an emerald in a setting that’s too tight, I’m cracking under the pressure. And something about that jewelry you tried to give me this morning, it felt like it was just crawling in... spiders. It just makes me feel like everything is crawling with spiders and it makes my skin literally crawl like they’re climbing all over me. Like I get it that there’s cameras and listening devices here, for security, they have to be and I’ve gotten used to it, like seeing a spider web in the corner and pretending to ignore it as long as it doesn't come down or get close to you or like putting on an itchy sweater but you endure it because you’re at Grandma’s house but...I feel like I can never get away from them, that they’re all over everything I touch and it’s that- that makes what she said about the setting being too tight make so much sense, but I just couldn’t find the right words to tell you but I’ve been so scared of telling you because I didn’t want you to think you were in danger of a crazy person or doubt me that I couldn’t keep you safe or anything and for some reason when Buddy gave me this necklace, this is the first thing that I’ve been given that is spider free and the longer I wear it, the less the spiders crawl on me and I feel like you’re the center of the spider web for some reason and none of this makes sense but I have no idea how else to explain it. And I feel like if I keep pushing myself to be everything you need to be, I’ll break, I’ll shatter and never get put back together again. And the more I feel it, the more I feel, that even as much as you pay me- it’s not worth it . And my gut used to whisper things to me but all it does is scream at me anymore to save myself and just walk away and I just...I want to be in a space that’s spider free. And I want to hit every electronic around me with a hammer to squish the spiders. And I know this is crazy. And I feel like if I just kill myself, the spiders will just eat me and be done with it.” Violet managed to rant as she paced her office on the opposite side of the room as Phillip withdrew all of his powers from her and knew without the shadow of a doubt that this was all because of him. He was the one responsible for cracking her and he had thought he had taken out the suicide seed from her head but apparently not, the seed was sprouting on it's own or enough of it remained to do this to her. And that if he didn’t back off, she really was going to break beyond mending. He needed to fix this.

“And what’s even crazier- is I feel like Mr. Pine is just a big can of Raid. And the more I’m around him and closer to him I am, the farther away the spiders stay. And that’s why I’ve been wanting to do all the outings with him because at least when I’m with him, the spiders stay away. And he even invited me to stay as a friend for his social event and I totally want to but not when his place is crawling with spiders too. Phillip, I know this sounds crazy and if you want to commit me to an asylum, I’ll understand. I mean I’ll break out and disappear forever, but I would understand and forgive you.” Violet said as she let her shoulders drop in defeat and hugged herself as pure panic and a deep dreadful, foreboding fear gripped Phillip’s chest.

“Uh, then. Then you should do just that. I’m so sorry Violet, I’m so sorry, I wish you would have told me sooner. I never wanted…” Phillip began to cry but he did his best to keep his composure.

“You’re not crazy Violet. You’re just under too much pressure and I’ve put too much stress and pressure on you and I've asked too much of you and I am so, so, so sorry. You poor thing. You make so much sense right now. I get it, ok, um, I’m gonna do all I can to kill the spiders for you. Just...I’m approving everything for you and Mr. Pine, of course you should go, and don’t worry about going as Ms. Parr or Invisigirl. Just go as Violet. Go, have a great time, I’ll have your place searched and scrubbed to make sure it’s spider free or if you still think it has spiders, I’ll get you another apartment that’s spider free. I’ll get you new everything because if you feel it’s all infested with spiders, then they’re beyond saving. You are not crazy. You’re so strong and brave for trying to put up with all this. And while you’re there, I’ll turn off all the cameras and listening devices in the apartment side of the space, just in case that’s what’s giving you spider vibes. Because you deserve to have a nice evening with friends without feeling your skin crawl and get them like a case of wine or whatever as my gift for the occasion and just have a great time. Just keep Wednesday as your Raid day. And you know what, if Mr. Pine will host you or you want to host him and take him out- have the weekends too. have Raid weekends. And go out, like to the museums or whatever. Leave the security detail here. I trust you with Mr. Pine and I trust that if he makes a move, you’ll still do your job. It’s the least I can do.” Phillip generously offered before Violet practically ran into his arms and was so grateful when she felt that he didn’t use his powers at all.

“Thank you so much Phil, thank you for believing me and doing something about it. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Violet cried in relief into his chest as he held her.

“Of course. I’m always going to believe you. I need to protect you as much as you protect me. And if I have to kill a million spiders both real or otherwise, I’ll do it. You are the most important thing and the most precious jewel in the universe and I’m so sorry I couldn’t see that I was the one causing the cracks by putting so much pressure on you and asking too much of you. Thank you so much for telling me and identifying the problem. I’ll help as much as I can.” Phillip vowed.

“Thank you.” Violet thanked him before kissing him sweetly, wishing she could have kissed Buddy instead.

“Ok, let me go and call some exterminators and brainstorm to make a trap for any more.” Phillip offered before he left and went to the tech department and turned off all the cameras and listening devices in her apartment and her car and her phone and Violet simply grinned when she could tell they had been turned off as she took a moment to hold her phone between her hands and mentally searched for it and was still able to find it. It was still there, just dormant. Sleeping . Before she played with it, focused on the device and turned it back on and then back off again and smiled to herself that she was good enough to figure out how to do it and could now do it on demand.

Meanwhile the mole in security sent the message that Violet was aware of the bugs and that Phillip was going to go and exterminate her bug problem and to make sure that the only bugs he would find would be his own and within 30 minutes, Zone’s security team came back to Violet’s place and took out all of the piggy backs and covered up all the evidence that they were ever there to begin with and quickly left again.

#Why So Jaded #Why So Jaded Chapter 7 #Synlet #Buddy Pine #Bartholomew Pine #Violet Parr #Corporate espionage AU #Modern AU #Now #this is a proper love triangle #and some good ol fashioned intrigue #and conflicts of interest #and being emotionally torn between objectives #and a test of loyalties #bwahahaha

[rinneganwritings]

Never Far Away; Chapter Ten: Let You Go

Word Count: 3,095

Summary: Team Yumiko catches up with Tsunade, but things don't go as expected. The source of the tension between Yumiko and Kakashi is hinted at to a very curious Akina.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

It doesn’t take long after making camp for Ezume and Akina to call it a night. Yumiko volunteered to take the first watch, expecting she would have at least a few hours of solitude before switching out with someone else. Two hours into her shift, she’s working on mending a hole in one of Akina’s skirt and Kakashi is still sitting against the same tree reading Icha Icha

“So why did I volunteer to take the first shift if you’re gonna stay up anyway?” she asks finally.

Kakashi doesn’t look up, “Hm, I’m not sure.”

“You could’ve said something, y’know.”

“It seems you had something to do anyway,” he lazily waves towards the sewing in her lap.

“I could’ve done that on my turn.”

There’s a moment of silence before Kakashi speaks up again, “Do you enjoy arguing with me?”

“What? Why would you ask-”

“I was thinking about it earlier,” he closes his book and turns to face her. “I realized every time we’ve spoken to each other for as long as I can remember, we were arguing. Well, you were arguing.”

“That’s not true,” she rolls her eyes. “We’ve had normal conversations.”

“When?”

“That’s not fair,” she groans. “Everyone forgets when asked for specifics.”

Ezume sits up in his sleeping bag with rage painted on his face, “Okay, can you guys just kiss or something so I can go back to sleep?”

“Yes, Yumiko. Our comrades need their rest,” Kakashi slumps against the tree, opening Icha Icha again.

Yumiko stands up, “Okay, since you’re going to stay up reading your dirty book I’m going to sleep.”

“This is not a dirty book,” Kakashi gasps. “This is fine crafted romance!”

“What would you know about romance?”

Kakashi doesn’t say anything. She kicks off her shoes and slips off her flak jacket before getting into her sleeping bag. Despite her best efforts, she’s never able to fall asleep.

☾

Everyone was departing from the memorial with heavy hearts. Tamako clung tightly to Yumiko’s hand as they both stared down at the marker for their parents. Something about being at the memorial made the reality of the situation sink in for Yumiko. Her heart wants to hide from the immense sorrow filling it, meanwhile she’s barely coming to terms with the heavy burden placed on her shoulders. So much sadness radiates off everyone in the village. Yumiko fights back the tears, wanting to seem brave in front of her peers.

Mikoto walks up to the sisters with baby Sasuke bundled up in her arms. Itachi follows close behind her.

“Why don’t we take Tamako back to our house for a while?” she offers. “You can come by when you’re ready.”

“Would you like that, Tamako?” Yumiko asks her.

Tamako looks up at her with wide eyes filled with tears, “Will you be okay, big sister?”

“Of course,” Yumiko kneels down beside her, “You should go play, okay? I’ll come get you soon.”

Tamako nods slowly before turning around to walk over to Itachi. Their hands intertwine as soon as they’re close to each other.

“Thank you,” Yumiko says to Mikoto. The woman nods with a sad smile before taking the children away.

Once she’s alone, Yumiko let’s her tears fall freely. So many emotions bubble to the surface she can’t quite seem to get a handle on any of them. One moment her tears are sad, then before she knows it her fists are balled up in anger. Just when she thinks she might explode from the growing rage, she realizes how absolutely terrified she really is.

She wants to scream into the empty sky above her. Then she looks up from her parent’s grave to see Kakashi standing in front of the memorial built in honor of Minato and Kushina. She doesn’t know what it is about seeing the silver haired ninja there, but she feels a little wave of calm wash over her.

She walks over to stand beside him, Kakashi looks at her for a moment before turning back to the memorial.

“I’m sorry you lost your sensei,” she says quietly. “I know how much Minato meant to you.”

Kakashi is quiet for a moment as he considers her words. When he speaks again, she’s surprised by the bitterness in his voice.

“I should’ve been there. We should have been there.”

She remembers how they’d both been trying desperately to join the fight when the Nine Tails attacked, only to be held back. The two of them along with the others their age helped to take the villagers to safety while the older shinobi fought the beast.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” she says finally. She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself.

She looks down to see Kakashi’s hands balled up in a fist as he speaks, “We’ll never know.”

Despite the pain filling her, she wishes more than anything to be able to take his away. She stares at him for a moment.

“Kakashi,” she starts to reach out for him, but stops herself.

How could she save him when she’s drowning too?

☽

Even though the sun is just beginning to rise, it seemed the night was just coming to an end for most of the people out and about.

“This seems exactly like the type of place Tsunade would choose,” Yumiko says as she watches the drunk and rowdy people walking around them. For a moment she feels nostalgic for her childhood, when her mother would go off on trips with Tsunade then come back with stories of glittering lights and exciting people. She pushes the nostalgia away, determined to keep focused.

“Should we get a room at an inn for tonight?” Akina asks, doing a terrible job at masking the hopefulness in her voice. She specifies for the night, but Yumiko knows she’s really hoping to get a few more hours of sleep this morning.

“Hm, maybe,” Yumiko answers. She stops at a food cart to buy a pork dumpling before continuing along behind her team. Her eyes scan the faces of people they pass, trying to find something familiar.

Kakashi turns to make sure Yumiko is still following. She flashes him a quick smile before he turns around. They go into the biggest inn with a casino attached. As soon as they walk in, Yumiko knows they won’t be able to afford to stay here. Tsunade and Tamako on the other hand might have been able to.

The innkeeper eyes the team suspiciously, “You gotta have money to stay here.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be staying,” Yumiko says to him before making her way towards the casino. Kakashi follows her, but Ezume and Akina linger behind.

She spots Shizune with Tonton sitting at a table with a drink at the same time Shizune spots her. Shizune tries to stand up to leave, but it’s too late. Kakashi has already crossed over to the other side of the small bar area. With a pout she sits back down.

“Come to rough me up again,” Shizune says when Yumiko sits down beside her.

“I didn’t rough you up the first time,” Yumiko leans forward. “But I did make myself clear.”

“Listen, I think you’ve misunderstood Lady Tsunade’s intentions. She’s just trying to help Tamako.”

“She can’t help her,”

“I think I can,” Tsunade’s voice draws everyone’s attention. She stands there with her arms crossed, her bottom lip curled in annoyance. Kakashi stands aside so Tsunade can pull up a chair at the table. He stands behind Yumiko, she notices him placing a hand on each side of her chair. Tsunade notices too, but doesn’t acknowledge it despite the curious look.

“Tamako is going to be labelled as a rogue ninja if we don’t get her home,” Yumiko says. “The whole village thinks she’s gone to join the Akatsuki.”

“I’ve taken care of that,” Tsunade smirks. “I’m going to train her to be a medical ninja. And I’ve taken the liberty of alerting the Hokage. You should be hearing from him shortly.”

Yumiko’s ears pound as she takes in what she’s heard.

“That’s all well and good,” Kakashi’s voice rings through her head. “But until we hear from the Hokage, we’re still on a mission. We should see Tamako.”

“Tamako doesn’t want to see you,” Shizune says.

“She needs time, Yumiko,” Tsunade says. “There’s just so much going on in that girl’s mind right now. We shouldn’t push her.”

Yumiko’s palms grow sweaty as the air in the room begins feeling thinner. Her heart is pounding in her chest. Kakashi steps back when he realizes she’s trying to get up. She’s on her feet in a second, and heading towards the door.

Despite being out on the quiet street she, her head is buzzing. All this way they’ve come to find Tamako, and yet Tsunade had the audacity to send them away without even seeing her. All the years she spent trying to be a good sister, sensei, and guardian culminate to this.

“I told Tsunade we’ll be staying in the village until we get word from the Hokage,” Kakashi’s voice joins the buzzing. “She’s agreed to stay put until then as well.”

“Thank you, Kakashi,” Yumiko manages to say despite the lump in her throat.

“This is ridiculous,” Ezume groans. “We’ve come all this way!”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Akina suggests.

Although she’s trying to stay hopeful that Tamako might come home, she knows deep down it’s not happening. If Tsunade sent word to Hiruzen, he wouldn’t deny her. Especially since she’s training Tamako now.

“Maybe you both should go get some food,” Kakashi says to Ezume and Akina.

They both look at Yumiko, awaiting official permission. She’s too lost in thought to notice, so Kakashi shoos them away. She sits down on the steps entering the inn, watching as Akina and Ezume leave. Kakashi sits down beside her.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Yumiko finds herself asking him. Her voice is so small and weak she doesn’t recognize it as her own.

He’s surprised when he realizes the question is directed at him. Carefully he raises his hand to her shoulder, when he doesn’t receive a static shock he lets his hand rest. For a moment she tenses, but then looks up at him with the question still burning in her eyes.

“Whatever you want to do,” he says finally. “I’m with you every step of the way.”

Yumiko doesn’t know what to make of his words except for the immense amount of comfort she feels.

She smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

It was Kakashi’s turn to tense up when she leaned against him. His hand drags along her back as she moves, now resting on the opposite shoulder with his arm around her back. Her head rests on his shoulder as she tries to keep herself calm. It’s quiet and still for a moment. She feels her brain slow down a bit. Kakashi relaxes as well, finding himself soothing his thumb along her shoulder blade.

“Y’know, I’m kind of glad the Hokage sent you,” she confesses quietly.

“Hm, why’s that?”

“I don’t think Guy would be particularly comforting in this situation,” she laughs.

Kakashi tilts his head so he can look at her, “Am I?”

She laughs, “Surprisingly.”

They sit in silence for a long time. As Yumiko spots Akina and Ezume bouncing towards them, she feels Kakashi’s arm drop from around her. She scoots over a bit, creating a space between them. Ezume didn’t seem to notice, but Akina’s eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Look,” Ezume holds up an armful of snacks. “I got everyone some snacks!”

Akina tilts her head to the side as she continues studying her sensei. Ezume hands out bags of chips and pastries.

“Yumiko-sensei, would you go shopping with me?” Akina asks while Yumiko shoves some chips in her mouth. All Yumiko can do is nod as she crunches on them.

“It might be a nice distraction,” Yumiko says after swallowing the chips down.

“I’m gonna stay here in case Tamako comes out,” Ezume declares while sitting down on the opposite side of Kakashi. Yumiko and Kakashi have to stand up to let people up the stairs.

“Maybe that’s not a good idea,” Kakashi says to him. “We’ve already spoken with Tsunade. We’re just waiting for word from the Hokage.”

Ezume crosses his arms, “I’m not leaving without seeing her.”

“You could make things worse,” Yumiko tries to reason with him.

“How can you give up so easily?”

Yumiko sighs, “I’m not giving up, Ezume. But if this is what she wants, and it’s approved by the Hokage there’s nothing to be done.”

Akina steps forward and reaches out to tug on Ezume’s sleeve, “Come with us. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not going shopping,” Ezume snaps at her. “I’m staying here.”

Kakashi sighs, “I’ll stick around.”

Akina tugs on Ezume’s sleeve again, “Come on, Ezume. It’ll be fun if you’ll just come along.”

He yanks his arm away from her, “I’ve already told you I’m not coming.”

“Come on, Akina,” Yumiko places her hand on Akina’s shoulder. “Let’s just go.”

Akina wanders with Yumiko into shop after shop, not exactly satisfied with anything. Most of them are filled with floral dresses and kimonos. Akina tries on some, but her excitement for shopping seems to have faded after her argument with Ezume. Even when Yumiko offers to let Akina pick some things out for her, Akina just shrugs.

Finally, with her stomach growling, Yumiko takes her by the wrist to drag her to the nearest cafe for lunch. Once they’re at a table, Yumiko reaches out to touch her hand. Akina looks down with a sigh.

“What’s going on?” Yumiko asks quietly. “Let’s talk about it.”

Akina sighs, “I don’t understand why Ezume loves Tamako so much. She’s never paid him any attention at all.”

Yumiko feels her posture stiffen. Dealing with romantic feelings has never exactly been her strong suit. She doesn’t have much to go on. She developed her first crush at 6, and spent the next six years of her life trying to fight him…

“Ezume is a very loyal person. His feelings wouldn’t be swayed easily,” Yumiko offers.

Akina looks up at Yumiko finally, tears welling up in her eyes. Her hands fidget with the napkin in front of her.

“But I’ve been here the whole time, and he’s never even noticed me. Y’know, like a girl. I try so hard just to be noticed.”

Yumiko thanks the waitress who sets their food down. She’s grateful for the momentary distraction to try to decide how to proceed with the conversation. However, once they’re alone again she’s panicked to discover she still doesn’t know the answer. Akina is waiting patiently, hoping for some words of wisdom from her sensei.

“Maybe your time is coming?” Yumiko suggests. “Sometimes people need time to come to terms with the pain they feel before they can open up.”

Akina sighs, “I don’t mean to sound like I didn’t want Tamako to come back, because I did. But now that she’s with Lady Tsunade, maybe I have a chance?”

Yumiko smiles, “Maybe so.”

“Oh, are we having a little girl talk? Perhaps I could join.” Tsunade’s voice interrupts them. She takes a seat beside Akina across from Yumiko.

“What can I do for you?” Yumiko asks harshly.

“Calm down there, Sparky. I just want to talk,” Tsunade rolls her eyes. “As two people that care about Tamako we should understand each other.”

“I just want to know where all this caring for her was when I was a teenager struggling to raise her.”

Tsunade looks down at her folded hands, “You’re right. I should’ve been there for you both.”

Yumiko is taken aback by the confession. She tries to conjure up more anger, but there is none. She can see Tsunade’s genuine regret written in her eyes.

“I am sorry, Yumiko. I wasn’t there after your parent’s died, but I can help now. Think of it this way, the longer she’s with me the less likely she is to go running to trouble. If you forced her back to the village, she’d always be looking for another way out.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Yumiko sighs. She’s a little bitter about having to admit it after all the issues Tsunade has been the center of on this mission.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Yumiko. It’s just that you were always so strong. You seemed to be able to handle anything.”

Yumiko looks down, but looks up again when she hears Tsunade laugh.

“Akina, you should’ve seen her. She was such a small kid, but she was always trying to fight with other kids. Especially Kakashi.”

Akina’s eyes light up, “Oh, this I have to hear.”

Yumiko shakes her head, “We shouldn’t-”

“He never took her up on it,” Tsunade smirks.

“He did once,” Yumiko shudders.

“What happened?” Akina asks.

Tsunade is equally curious, “Yeah, what did happen? I never knew of this.”

“It happened after you left,” Yumiko looks down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Tsunade shrugs. “Fair enough. We all have our regrets.”

“Well, they sure don’t fight anymore,” Akina wiggles her eyebrows.

“Hmm, I imagine not,” Tsunade smirks.

“Speaking of, we should probably get back to Kakashi and Ezume,” Yumiko sighs.

She leaves money on the table for their lunch and stands up. Akina groans as she stands up. Tsunade still has her smirk on her face as she watches the two girls leave.

“Why don’t you like talking about the fight? You usually tell me everything,” Akina raises an eyebrow as they walk.

“It just wasn’t a very good thing…”

Yumiko tries to push it out of her mind. The terrible things people say to one another out of anger can be paralyzing. Akina can see the seriousness of the topic, so decides to drop it.

When they get back to the inn, Kakashi and Ezume are no longer sitting on the steps. Yumiko groans as she turns on her heels to scan the surrounding area. Finally, she spots the silver haired shinobi across the street. He sits on a bench reading while Ezume is sitting next to him eating.

As soon as they approach, Kakashi holds out a scroll for Yumiko. She knows without looking what it is, but nonetheless she unrolls it to read the words anyway. As expected it was an order to return to the village, signed by the Hokage.

“So,” Yumiko sighs. “Looks like we should head home.”

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #itachi #itachi uchiha #tsunade #naruto fanfiction