#when it was my first attempt to communicate in polish

[wigilda]

by the way polish people understand ukrainian incredibly well. like we met random guys on the street who got us especially if we talked slowly and judging by what my groupmates said (because i actually know polish, and they do not) they understood most of polish words as well. i didn't expect it at all and that felt fuckin amazing plus i didn't think i'd talk with such an ease (it's been 4 years since i really studied this language)

#special thanks to #the guy who was smoking sitting on stairs in front of dorms' entrance and told us how to get inside at 1 a.m. in the morning #the guy on reception who always smiled at me and held keys to our rooms ready as we came in after figuring out the door #(i think he liked me <3) #the guy in the subway who pretended he didn't see us #us (a company of five ukrainian students giggling loudly and hysterically and talking photos) #and told us at which station we should change the line #the lovely woman with black hair and kind dark eyes and slight wrinkles on reception who was very kind to me #when it was my first attempt to communicate in polish #an elderly woman in subway who again showed us how to get on the station and the guy who she caught to help us since she did not understand #ukrainian perfectly #and all other people i forgot!! thank you poland!! #good days!!

[goosewriting]

Underneath

summary: after getting stationed at the fortress inquisitorius, it seems a certain inquisitor takes an interest in reader.

relationship: inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) me being absolutely delulu, slow-burn-ish??? as it can get at 7k lol, making out at the end and fade to black, sexual tension if you squint, psychometry 

word count: 7.6k

A/N: started writing this back when i restarted JFO and got cal’s inquisitor clothes, so it’s been in the works for quite some time. also i had made pancakes back then and was sad about having no one to share them with, so i shall share them virtually with all of you <3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As long as you can remember, you’ve always been fascinated by the way people communicate with each other. Now, as a linguistics and behaviour expert, you count yourself lucky to be one of the probably few people who actually like their job. Stationed in an Imperial office on your home planet, you mainly monitor comms and analyse the occasional security holovid in an attempt to weed out any suspicious activity. 

In fact, it was thanks to you that a rebel cell was found, since you caught a suspicious exchange on unused frequencies, which earned you a promotion. You were content with that already, but then your superior said he’d put in a good word for you, as he’s always felt like you were far more capable than just listening to comms all day, and that you could use your skills better in service of the Empire. 

Fast-forward three months and lo and behold, you’re now stationed at Fortress Insquisitorius. 

It’s the first day and while you’ve got the grand tour of the place by a group of stormtroopers especially assigned to you (you still can’t quite believe you get your own little squad of troopers), there’s still some time before dinner. After dismissing the men, saying you’ll catch up to them later at the mess hall, you walk around, further checking out the place. 

As you turn a corner to a hallway you haven’t been to yet, you notice it looks rather deserted. You check the small sign on the wall; this leads to one of the bigger residential wings, but not yours. So you decide to turn on your heels and head the other way. Except that before you can even take a step in that direction, you’re stopped in your tracks by an invisible force and turned back around again. This hold around you isn’t so tight that you can’t breathe, but you do feel the pressure keeping your arms at your sides and your body suspended in the air, the sole of your boots hanging barely an inch over the polished floor. Unable to resist your captor, you’re met with an Inquisitor, of all people, who slowly walks towards you with one of their hands in the air, holding you in place.

They come to a halt before you, the helmet tilting slightly to the side as the eyes under the red visor study you, out of your view. 

“Who are you?” comes the distorted voice. Despite the modulator, you can tell by the tone and body language it’s a man. You’ve heard stories about Inquisitors, and despite being stationed at their base, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with them. Just your luck, and in an empty hallway no less.

Nonetheless, you tell him your name, station and even your office’s room number. Just in case. 

“I’m new,” you add, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. He remains eerily calm and still all the while. With a polite smile, you throw the question back at him, “And you are?”

His helmet tilts the other way ever so slightly as if your question took him by surprise.

“Inquisitor Kestis,” he replies after a second. “Cal Kestis”

“Well, nice to meet you, Inquisitor Cal Kestis,” you say. If you could move, you’d stretch out your hand towards him out of habit as a greeting, but he probably wouldn’t take it either way, so you’re glad you don’t get the chance to embarrass yourself. Yet, anyway. 

For a few moments, he just stands there with you in his invisible grasp. Is he looking at you? Did he space out? You suddenly feel your stomach complaining about its emptiness.

“Uhm, could you let me down again?” you ask, looking down at the floor tiles and back up at the red visor. “I’d like to go get dinner.”

Without a word, he places you back onto the ground surprisingly gently, then takes off in the direction he came from, disappearing from your view as he turns a corner. Well, you think to yourself with a satisfied nod as you make your way to the mess hall, I think that was a solid first impression. Good job, me.

The next day, you officially start your new job, and you’re all sorts of excited and nervous. You’re still intercepting messages, decoding and translating encrypted communications, but on a much higher level this time. These are important people you’re monitoring. You’re also called as an interpreter when there’s holocalls with parties who refuse to have droids in the room. Besides, the officers and generals seem to actually enjoy having you around, with your happy and optimistic demeanour in this otherwise cold and sterile building. You know that Imperial staff can be rough sometimes, but you’re convinced that the kindness you put out into the world eventually comes back to you. So you make sure to treat everyone equally, with kindness and respect, wearing a smile whenever you get the chance.

The days go on, and you see all sorts of people around the place. You do see some Inquisitors from time to time, mainly in the hangar. Occasionally they make an appearance in the mess hall as well, but they usually sit alone and for a very short amount of time on one of the round tables in the far corner of the mess. You never see Inquisitor Kestis there, though. 

As you sit with your little trooper squad, you chew on a stringy piece of meat deep in thought, not really paying attention to the conversation. This Kestis has you intrigued if you’re being honest with yourself. You still don't understand why he talked to you. The other Inquisitors seem to ignore you, as well as everyone else, most of the time. Besides, Kestis could have just talked to you. There was no need to Force-hold you or anything. Was he trying to show you he’s in charge or something? Doesn’t that mean that he felt threatened? 

With a light scoff at yourself — because the notion of an Inquisitor being intimidated by you is pretty silly — you take another bite of your food, your gaze scanning the mess hall without looking at anything in particular. The thing is that, since you don’t see Kestis in the mess hall like, ever, you only catch fleeting glances of him here and there when you see him slip into the elevator or turn a sharp corner at a hallway. You furrow your brows. It’s almost like he’s avoiding you. And that makes you just much more intrigued in what his deal is.

When the squad is in a good mood, you try to slip a question into the conversation about the Inquisitors here and there, asking if they ever saw their faces or what they’re like, and what they do. The troopers can only tell you the rumours you’ve already heard in a thousand different versions, the details getting more violent and out of hand every time you hear them. You dismiss most of those stories; you’ve noticed that a few Inquisitors walk around without a helmet. And others are pretty direct in their attitude towards others, getting into arguments or even physical fights when something bothers them. So they all want the rest to know who they are and be scared, many even seem to enjoy the fear in people’s faces. But Kestis? The few times you’ve seen him, he moves like a well-oiled machine. His face is always hidden, every movement is calculated, and he doesn’t waste his breath on any unnecessary syllable. That’s just proof that he has a carefully curated persona he wears when he’s out and about. But once he’s alone, when he gets to peel back all those layers? You truly wonder what lies beneath. 

One evening you find yourself thinking about him yet again, suddenly concerned about his eating habits, wondering if he’s okay and eating well. For some reason that you still can’t quite comprehend, you decide to just go to him. After all, if he didn’t want to see you, he’d just send you away, right? By now you’re very well aware about what the Inquisitors are capable of, but you’re both on the same side, so surely there’s nothing to worry about. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your feet carry you to the mess hall that evening.

After you’re done eating (the food today is better than you would have thought), you order a second portion to go. You start walking down the hallway, looking for a console or a droid. You know where the residential wing is, but you don’t know what floor the Inquisitors’ rooms are, and doubt there’ll be specific directions towards them. It isn’t long before you do find an R4 unit, and you ask where the Inquisitor quarters are. The cylindrical droid beeps and jumps a little with a startle, at first unwilling to tell you, afraid that if it does, the droid will be sliced in half. But you promise the droid that you won’t tell on it. So after some more convincing and promising the droid you owe it an oil bath, it finally brings up a holomap of the place, showing you where you want to go with a blinking dot. 

With a pat on the head, you say your thanks and go to where the map said. Soon enough, you find yourself in a wing of the building you’ve not only never been to, but one you didn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for the droid. The design of the walls is even sleeker here, and the sound of your boots echoes through the hallway. The further you walk into this wing, the fewer people and troops you come across. Even the constant rumbling of machinery behind the panels seems to be quieter here. 

After some more minutes of walking, you finally reach the door you’re looking for. There are no signs or name plaques, but you remember the number on the door from the droid’s map. The lettering is almost the same shade of black as the door, so it took you a moment to find the right one. But you’re fairly sure this one should be it. 

Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. In the seconds waiting for a response, you suddenly feel silly about being here. He’s a full-grown man. An Inquisitor. Why did you think he’d need you to bring him dinner? What if he didn’t like it anyway–

The door opens with a whoosh, and you look up. For some reason, you were expecting to be met with the red visor of his helmet. Which now that you think about, doesn’t make sense; if he’s in his quarters, he wouldn’t be walking around with his full uniform on.

Instead, you’re met with a pair of intense yellow eyes, and equally fiery red hair on his head. Your breath hitches and you’re not sure if it’s the surprise of seeing his uncovered face or the realisation that he’s incredibly handsome, and it just caught you off-guard.

He gives you a quick once-over, momentarily looking at the box in your hands, then bringing his eyes back to yours, boring into your very soul.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a flat voice.

“I haven't seen you in the mess hall today. Or, any other day, really,” you explain, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Ever since I've started working here. So I brought some food in case you haven't eaten yet…” Your voice starts trailing off at the end as you once again realise how dumb that sounds out loud.

He holds your gaze a little longer, narrowing his eyes at you as if to scrutinise whether you're being honest or not. While you hope he’ll accept the food in case he actually hasn't eaten yet, that's all you expect to happen. You’re counting on him taking the box and leaving you be, so you can go back to your quarters and continue reading your novel, which you are actually looking forward to.

To your surprise, the Inquisitor takes a step to the side, silently inviting you in. You walk past him, slightly bowing your head as a thanks, and take in his quarters. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it's surprisingly… normal. Bigger than the barracks and other quarters you've seen, including yours, but still normal. There’s a banner with the Imperial emblem hanging on the far wall, a couch on the other side, and a round table with some chairs in the middle, as well as a kitchenette. Everything is neat and clean.

You hear the doors close as you walk to the table and place the box on it, turning back around to Kestis, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“It’s still warm,” you tell him, pointing at the food.

He walks by you to pick up the container, and that’s when you notice he’s still wearing his gloves. It strikes you as odd to be wearing them in the confines of his own room, but to each their own. Kestis walks to the kitchen and pours the food onto a plate and throws away the take-out container, then rummages in a drawer for a fork.  After walking past you to sit at the table, he takes off his gloves and places them neatly next to him on the table.

“Sit,” he orders without looking at you, and takes the first bite. You sit down across from him.

“Have you already eaten?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” you give the honorific a try, and he seems to like it. “At the mess hall.”

“I wouldn’t have any food to offer you either way,” he states, and lifts his gaze to look at you. “This visit is… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry for intruding, Sir. I didn’t mean to. I just–”

“You just what?” He shoots you a look akin to a glare.

“I was just worried, I guess,” you say. He scoffs.

“Please don’t act like you care,” he retorts. “If you need or want something, just tell me upfront.”

“What? No, I- I’m not acting,” you reassure him, raising your hands slightly to underline you’re being earnest. “I’m not trying to gain something in exchange. I was genuinely worried about not seeing you in the mess hall.”

His fork stops mid-way from the plate to his mouth, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” he asks. You squirm slightly in your seat.

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest,” you admit, and you can’t help the defeated slump of your shoulders. “You were the first one who talked to me when I got here out of their own volition and not because of work. After our chat, I was hoping to see you around or something…”

The pause that follows lasts for a couple of seconds only, but it feels eternal. Until finally, Kestis lets out a short sigh and continues eating.

“I usually avoid the mess hall,” he says, his voice much more gentle now. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply. 

Taking the two last bites of his meal, Kestis sets down the fork. That’s my queue, you think.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep imposing,” you say, rising up to your feet, and he does the same. Before turning around, you search his eyes one last time. “That’s really all I wanted to do: to bring you the food. I’ll be going now. Good night, Sir.”

The Inquisitor walks you to the door, and just as you walk past the threshold, his words surprise you.

“Next time you could bring two portions.”

You whip around, but the door whooshes shut with a hiss.

— — —

After that, you two fall into a strange routine where you get dinner to go and bring it to his quarters so you can eat together. The conversations start out as polite small-talk, but soon enough you can broaden your topics, ranging from work to anecdotes and fun facts you picked up here and there. 

While the tone remains polite and all in all pleasant, you do notice that he’s very careful not to touch you. You think it’s because he’s being respectful, but unbeknownst to you, it’s because he wants to get to know you organically, and not pry into the echoes of your belongings. Even if he knows he could, and you’d never even know, and despite his growing curiosity, he feels… compelled to try. For you. Because you bring a refreshing factor into his otherwise stale life, like a gentle melody in the cold vastness of space. 

It’s rare to run into Cal, as he’s recently allowed you (and only you) to call him, in the halls or in the hangar. As fate would have it though, you’re just about to get into a ship with your trooper squad to leave for a job off-planet, while Cal happens to be getting off his own ship at the same time.

You don’t want to disturb him. Even if you want to wave at him from afar really badly, or even call out to him. But you think he’d appreciate it if you keep your relationship, whatever it is, a secret. To your complete surprise however, once he spots you in the ever moving crowd of the busy hangar, he comes to you.

Beelining towards you, he comes to a stop in front of you, sporting his full uniform. And while the group around you stiffens up and some even take a precautionary step back, you feel very at ease in his presence, greeting him like you normally would with a smile. If you’re being completely honest, you feel kinda proud that one of the most feared Inquisitors on base came to you, and that everyone seems so scared of him while you are completely relaxed, though still remaining respectful of course. 

“Welcome back,” you greet Cal with a genuine smile. “I hope your mission wasn’t too eventful?”

“It all went according to plan,” the distorted voice says with a static crackle.

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. 

Cal’s head shifts ever so slightly, the visor looking past your face to something behind your back.

“Is there a problem, trooper?” the Inquisitor asks, standing a little taller as he addresses the soldier who’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“With all due respect, Sir, we’re on a tight schedule-“

The trooper next to him elbows him in the side.

“Is that so,” Cal asks rhetorically, and you can’t really read his tone because of the distortion. Still, you decide to intervene.

“It’s okay, we can still make it on time,” you assure him and shoot the trooper a pointed look while whispering to Cal that he’s new. “But yes, we should probably get going. I’m glad I got to see you, though. Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”

Cal nods and makes room for you to walk past, while the others keep a noticeable distance between the Inquisitor and themselves as they walk around him. When you reach the ramp to the ship, you turn around one last time. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised to see Cal standing there, hands behind his back, facing your direction. You give a little wave with your hand, then hurry up the ramp and take a seat. As the ship takes off, you’re checking the data on your holopad. You suddenly feel something on your cheek, like the faintest caress of a summer breeze, and you could swear you just heard a voice in your head.

‘Come back safely.’

As the ship activates the hyperdrive, your hand involuntarily comes up to touch your cheek where the skin still prickles from what you can only describe as a ghost’s touch. 

— — —

Ever since then, you notice a shift in the way everyone treats you, even your superiors, but especially the troopers. Some seem to get out of your way completely when you come walking down the hall, while others are especially attentive to your needs, offering to help you whenever you look like you’re lost or are searching for something. That one trooper who had spoken up to Cal, you haven’t seen him around at all. In fact, it isn’t until two weeks after the incident that you decide to ask one of your other squad members where he is, and she tells you that he got reassigned to not only a different squadron, but an entirely different planetary system. You have a hunch about who’s responsible for that, but you're still not quite sure why he would go to such lengths. Had he really felt that disrespected? You should watch your tone with him from now on, lest you also be sent to some backwater planet…

However, Cal still acts as he always has around you. You still eat dinner in his room, like you’ve been doing for a while now. And while it may just be your wishful thinking, it seems like his whole body language has finally started to soften too. When it’s just the two of you, his shoulders are not as tense, his jaw not as tight, his eyes not as harsh. Even the way he talks has changed. Others may not notice, but you’re literally trained for this. His choice of words has shifted to a less strictly professional lingo, allowing himself to articulate more freely, as well as use more face expressions, voice tone changes and hand gestures, compared to how he acted when your dinner routine started. At some point, he even stopped wearing his gloves around you all the time.

On one hand, for the past couple of months, dinner has been the highlight of your day. You get to spend time with someone who actually listens to you, not because of work, not because you have data they need, but because they just like to spend time with you. Or at least you hope he does. 

On the other hand, you’ve been noticing a slight knot in your stomach whenever you stand in front of Cal’s door, waiting for it to open. As well as the prick of heat on your cheeks when he reacts to your jokes (you haven’t seen him properly smile or laugh out loud yet, but you’ll get there). And let’s not forget the involuntary hitch of your breath accompanied by the skip of your heart when you discover him in the same room with you when you weren’t expecting to see him. 

Somewhere deep within you, you know what all of those mean. But you like the relationship that you’ve built with him, no matter how weird it is, too much to listen to your gut right now. So you just push all and any thought of that kind waaay back into the darkest corner of your brain, hoping it’ll pass.

— — —

One day, you’re feeling a little blue, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Cal. He asks what the problem is, and you tell him you miss something from your home planet. He assures you, whatever it is, he can get it for you. So you write down some things and he orders them. Only two rotations later, the package is at his door. 

He's really curious to open it but decides to wait for you to get there that evening. When you’re finally in his quarters and he shows you the box, you’re super happy and unpack everything: it’s candy, some fruits he’s never seen before, a jar of what looks like herbs, and another jar with a blue spread of sorts. 

You hum, thinking about what to show him first, and decide to go for the jar with the spread. Picking it up, you’re about to start explaining what it is while you open it, but whatever you plan to say gets cut off because of your fruitless effort to screw open the lid. You give it a second try, but it just won’t budge.

With a sheepish look, you wordlessly hand him the glass and when he takes it, there’s a cocky smile on his face that you’ve never seen on him before. You bite your tongue just in time to stop some witty remark, because it would have been a jumble of sounds and no coherent sentence anyway. For in a split second, all those feelings and thoughts you have been repressing come back all at once in one massive wave that crashes over you, drowning everything else around you.

If that small of a change in his face has such a big effect on you, you wonder what else there is. What would a proper smile on him look like? Would he ever properly smile at you? With you? For you? And if it was the other way around, if it was you wearing a cocky grin, looking down at him, how would he—

Oh, oh no. You’re in it bad. So bad. 

The sound of your name snaps you back to reality, where Cal is offering you the now open jar, waiting for you to take it. You blink a couple of times, your eyes moving from his face to the jar, then back to his face. One of his brows rises to give you a questioning look. Heat spreads on your face, ears and neck at the multiple images that appeared in your head. You give him a quick thanks, grab the jar, and turn around to hide from his gaze. Already familiarised with his kitchen, you walk up to the counter to rummage in the drawer for a spoon. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart, you turn back around. Cal is still standing by the table, following your every movement with his yellow eyes. And for some reason, you feel like all the walls you had managed to pick away at ever so slowly have been pulled up again around him.

You’ve heard stories of Force users being able to read minds, and right now you really hope they’re not true. What if he can sense your thoughts? Is he… disgusted at you? 

Somehow managing to regain your composure and willing away most of the prickling heat on your face, you explain to him what this spread is called in your mother tongue, which translates to something like “sweet of milk”, and how delicious it is.

You’re still by the counter, not really wanting to get into Cal’s space, and you take a spoonful of the jar’s contents and put it into your mouth.

“Hm, it’s so good,” you say, offering him the spoon to give it a try himself.

He suddenly seems to revert to his normal self and approaches you, grabbing a new spoon from the drawer. Ah, you should have known, he doesn’t like sharing cutlery. Or cups. Or… anything, really. Odd, but you’ve always just attributed it to him being scared of germs or the like, which is very valid. It’s probably the same reason why he’s wearing gloves all the time, especially outside. 

As he twists the spoon in his mouth, you see Cal’s face light up for the first time; he likes it. You’re relieved.   

“So glad you like it! Alright then, let’s make some pancakes. You’re going to love them,” you exclaim. 

Seeing the rest of the imported goods on the table, you tell him to try some candy while you work. You take off your bracelet, leaving it next to the box, and roll up your sleeves to get to work.

While the pancakes are cooking, you watch Cal’s reaction to the sweets. He first inspects it closely in his fingers; it’s shaped like a short stick with stripes in different shades of pink. You tell him the wrappers have trivia facts about animals, but they’re written in your native language. So while he chews on the soft candy, he walks over to you, holding out the wrapper for you to read.

“What does it say?” he asks, and you can’t help feel extremely endeared. Your eyes fall to the paper in his hands.

“It’s about banthas. It says that both females and males have a pair of spiralling horns, and they grow a knob a year. So you can tell the age of banthas by how curly their horns are,” you read out loud. “Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Interesting,” Cal remarks with a short nod of his head. He chews some more on the candy while inspecting the drawing of the bantha on the wrapper. He seems to like them a lot. In fact, he goes back to the table and takes a second one. He asks you what they’re called again, saying he will probably order some more for himself. 

Flipping yet another pancake, you tell him their name and smile to yourself, glad you managed to introduce something nice and colourful into his life. Not that being an Inquisitor wasn’t fun… was it? Truthfully, you have no idea how they feel about what they do out there. You’ve tried getting something out of Cal, but whenever the topic of his work comes up, he shuts you out. You also try not to listen too closely to the gory details of their work that are talked about in quick whispers in the hallways. Either way, you like to think that you broke whatever monotony there could be for Cal, even if only a little bit. Maybe he even looks forward to your moments together, as you do.

The Inquisitor asks what the other jar with the herbs is. You explain that it’s actually leaves for an infusion, and ask if he could put the kettle on.

Suddenly this whole moment feels strangely domestic, and you reprimand your heart for yet another beat it just skipped. It’s just a normal hangout between… colleagues. Making pancakes and having tea. Absolutely normal, strictly professional behaviour, yes. 

You flip the last pancake and watch as Cal stands up to get back to the kitchen, but when he puts the jar with the tea leaves back on the table without really looking, his bare hand grazes your bracelet. With a sharp breath through his teeth, he suddenly tenses up, and his gaze is fixed on some spot behind you, without really focusing on anything. You’re not sure what’s happening, but he’s completely frozen up, and you start panicking.

After turning off the heat on the stove, you hurry to stand in front of the Inquisitor, unsure what to do. You call his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t react. Your hand comes up to the side of his arm but you hesitate, stopping just before touching him. Looking up at him, you try calling his name again; still no reaction. So you don’t really have a choice. You place your hand on his upper arm and give him a gentle shake.

“Cal,” you call yet again. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

He takes a big gulp of air, as if he had forgotten to breathe all this time. After blinking a couple of times, it seems he’s back with you, and his eyes dart back to yours, boring into your skull with an intensity that takes you off guard. You’re quick to remove your hand from him and instinctively take a step back to give him some space.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask. “You just spaced out really hard for a moment.”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he replies, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter. “It was… something occurred to me that really took me by surprise, is all.”

“… Right,” you stretch out the word, waiting for him to explain what he meant further, but he reverts completely back to normal in an instant. 

“You asked me to put the kettle on, right?” he asks and is already on his way to the kitchen. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you follow him with your gaze, confused, then remember an important detail, so you join him in the kitchen. “Oh, but don’t let it boil. That will ruin the leaves. Just gotta heat up the water.”

“Got it.”

— — —

After some more preparations, you’re both sat at the table, and you show him how to eat the pancakes. They’re not like the thick, small pancakes he knows. These ones are larger in diameter and very thin. You demonstrate how to evenly apply the blue spread, stack the cubes of fruit you prepped, then roll up the pancakes like a tube and pick it up in your hands.

“Ta-da,” you exclaim. “And now, enjoy.”

Taking a big bite, you squeal at how good it tastes. It’s been ages since you’ve had this! 

Cal imitates what you did earlier, putting together his own pancake tube, and takes a bite as well. Even he can’t help the low moan that escapes through his nose at this fantastic combination. You giggle at the sight, enjoying it immensely that you get to see all these sides to him that probably no one else has seen. Once more, your brain is invaded by the thought of what else there might be to Inquisitor Cal Kestis. If he allowed you to lower wall after wall, layer after layer… what would you discover? 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the images starting to form. Nope, can’t go there. 

Instead, you decide to show him how the tea is brewed. You grab a small cup and pour some tea leaves in there, which are chopped much more finely than other loose tea Cal has seen. Then you place the special straw that came in the box in the cup. Cal has never seen something like it; it’s essentially a metal tube that is flat at the top and ends in a bulbous shape at the bottom full of little holes.

“So, let me get this straight,” he starts once he understands the mechanics behind your concoction. “Instead of putting the contained leaves in water and then removing them to drink the tea, you just put loose leaves in the water and filter it through the straw to drink the tea?”

“Essentially, yes!”

“That’s so many extra steps…”, Cal sighs, bringing his hand up to hold his temple.

“It’s literally the same,” you laugh. “Just in a different order.”

Pouring hot water into the cup, careful not to overspill it, you offer the cup to him.

“The things you make me do…” he says under his breath, taking the cup and giving it a tentative sniff. 

“Oh please,” you say teasingly, and a grin spreads on your face as you prop up your chin on your elbows. “As if you’re not having the time of your life today. I saw how many candies you ate earlier.”

Cal’s eyes dart down to your lips and back up so quickly that you miss it. With a defeated sigh, he gives the tea a try, grimacing at the bitter taste. You chuckle.

“It certainly is an acquired taste, but give it a chance. It gets better with time, trust me.” Kinda like you, you think.

He looks at the cup and back at you, kinda lost on what to do now.

“You’re supposed to suck on the straw until there’s no more water left, then you pass it back and I pour another one,” you explain.

“So many extra steps,” he repeats with a playful shake of his head, but he does as you said, if only to humour you. Once the straw makes the typical noise of there not being any more liquid at the bottom of a cup, he passes it back to you. With a smile, you pour more water into it, and have a drink yourself. He seems a bit shocked about that.

“Oh yeah, this is a drink passed around in a group, and everyone drinks from the same straw…,” you explain. Not to sound like a 12-year-old, a voice in your head says, but that just was an indirect kiss with an Inquisitor. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked for a second straw so we could both use one each. I was going to offer another round of tea to you after I’m done with this one, as it usually goes, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Cal straightens up in his seat in surprise at your words.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“You don’t like sharing cutlery and stuff like that, right?” you ask, now confused as well, thinking back to when he clearly grabbed another spoon to try the spread. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s… never mind.”

He fidgets with his fingers for a second, but when he notices you watching him, he hides his hands under the table. You merely hum in response, taking another sip. Is he… nervous? The mood seems to have shifted again and now you’re completely lost as to what’s going on. All those years of training and studying, yet this man before you remains a mystery.

The rest of the evening is spent eating pancakes and drinking tea, holding a pleasant conversation, albeit a superficial one. At times, it feels like his eyes are completely fixed on you, but within seconds, it’s like he can’t even look at you. 

Concluding you’ve overstayed your welcome, you offer to quickly wash up, then be on your way. He merely nods and helps to bring all the dishes to the counter, then goes back to the table. You assume it’s to get another candy from the box. But you don’t mind; you offered to wash up after all. 

Silence envelops the whole room, the only sound being the water coming from the tap. As you’re putting the last of the dishes on the little drying rack, you sigh. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea after all. Full of questions and doubts, you dry your hands on the towel, fully set on ending the evening by thanking him for getting the things in the first place, saying you had a good time and keeping your goodbyes short. You aren’t even sure if you’ll manage to appear here with a straight face for dinner tomorrow after everything that happened today, the problem being mainly the things playing out in your own head.

Being so deep in thought, you don’t notice the presence behind you, so when you turn around, you’re almost nose to nose with Cal. You can’t help the surprised little “ah, kriff!” that escapes you at his sudden appearance. With the counter behind you though, there’s nowhere for you to back away to, and Cal isn’t budging from where he stands. 

“Don’t forget this,” he says in a low voice and holds up your bracelet, which you had left on the table earlier. He’s so close that you can feel his soft breaths on your face.

“R-right, thanks.”

Looking anywhere but at the Inquisitor, you take the piece of jewellery and put it on your wrist. It takes you a couple of tries though, because your fingers are trembling. In fear, anticipation or something else, you don’t really know. You fumble for a moment until you finally manage to secure the clasp. Cal however, is still standing right in front of you, his hands now coming up to rest on the counter on either side of you. You don’t dare to breathe.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you ask in an impossibly small voice. 

“I think you know.” 

It takes every last drop of courage in your body, but you scrape it all together and put it into lifting your eyes to look at Cal. And when your gaze meets his, the breath is knocked out of your lungs entirely. He’s looking down at you so intensely, so hungry, you can’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your brain is long gone, you realise, so now you’re entirely at the mercy of what Cal does and whatever physical reaction that gets out from you. And it seems he’s very much aware of this, enjoying the state you find yourself in, if that tiny side smile is anything to go by as he leans in next to your head. You go completely stiff. 

“If you want me to back off, tell me now,” he says directly into your ear.

You take a shaky breath, and the last of the voices in your head all but screaming at you to get out of there is abruptly shut up. Anything and everything in your mind and body is Cal Kestis right now, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s using some Force mind trick on you or if this is all you. That thought dissipates instantaneously though when you feel Cal’s breath tickle your ear, still waiting for your response. You merely shake your head, and it’s so subtle he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he didn’t have his face right next to yours. 

With his cheek now against yours, you can feel him smile. Properly smile. 

“Good,” is all he says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. 

His arms snake around your waist, pressing your body into his, and he devours you with such ferocity that you need a moment to regain control in your limbs. Once you do, your hands are all over him. One fists the shirt at his back, the other goes into the hair at the nape of his neck and you give it a gentle, tentative pull. The groan that leaves his lips is intoxicating, and you know right then and there that there’s no going back from this. Not tonight, not ever. This is all it took for you to know you’re officially addicted to Cal Kestis. 

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss further, his tongue pressing against your own and pushing both your hips into the counter behind you. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you. Any other day you would have felt embarrassed, but today you don’t care. You’re making out with a kriffin’ Inquisitor and it’s great. As if he could hear your thoughts, Cal gives your bottom lip a nip, starting to leave a trail of bites and licks along your jaw, while his hands slide to the backside of your thighs. Before you can process what he’s doing, you're being lifted onto the free counter space like you weigh nothing, with Cal standing between your legs. One of his hands slowly moves further up your thigh, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. 

Suddenly, something occurs to you, and with a breathless “wait” you tilt your head to the side to take a breather and try to regain any rational thought you may have left. You’re both panting heavily, and while he looks openly annoyed at your interruption, he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, then backs away a bit to let you take a break. 

“What,” he finally says, and it’s less of a question and more of an impatient bark, as you still haven’t said anything.

Your brain is going at a thousand miles an hour, there’s too much input from everywhere, but you still manage to find the words somehow.

“I just- This is- Not that I’m not enjoying this immensely, but… why? All of a sudden?” you ask, finally feeling like you’ve caught your breath again.  

Cal huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and while you probably should be a little bit offended at his gesture, you’re suddenly way too focused on what you have the chance of witnessing: the way his hair messily falls into his face once he drops his hand. The clear blush adorning his freckled and scarred cheeks, nose and even the tips of his ears. The puffy lips, mouth still parted. The backlighting coming from the main room behind him almost gives him an ethereal glow, making the golden hue in his eyes stand out even more. You commit the image to memory. 

“The bracelet, when I touched it earlier,” he starts explaining, but when he sees you just as dishevelled as him, he decides he can’t be bothered right now. “It’s called psychometry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

With an impatient grunt, he just picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Right now there are more pressing matters,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You realise you’re being carried towards the door that’s always been closed every time you come over. When you both approach, they slide open with a hiss and you’re met with his bedroom, as you’ve always speculated that’s what lies behind it. 

Letting you fall backwards onto his large bed rather unceremoniously, he starts climbing on top of you, but before putting any weight on you, he stops and looks down at you with a serious face. 

“Last chance to back out,” he offers.

You can’t help at chuckle, and grin up at him. 

“As if.”

Your hands shoot up to hold him by the collar. You have no idea where the confidence even comes from at this point.

“I want you, Cal,” you say breathlessly, and that’s all it takes for him to be on top of and all over you again. Let’s just say pancakes and tea aren't the only treats you’ll be getting today.

— — —

A/N 2: inq!cal has a sweet tooth, honk if you agree

A/N 3: where my palitos de la selva gang at B)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #star wars x reader #listen if milk is blue in star wars #it makes sense for dulce de leche to be dark blue right? #let’s just go with it #look at me bringing irl cultural aspects into my writing wow

[prettymrswright]

not in the way I want to. (s,f)

pairing: shuri udaku x black!fem!reader

background: you and shuri met in college while the young prodigy was freshly on the rise in the media for her latest creations. the two of you were inseparable from the very first class you had together. many people would assume the two of you to be romantic, but you guys knew it wasn’t like that. you’ve had the same boyfriend since freshman year, and up until recent events, considered yourself straight (curious at most). shuri wasn’t too fond of him, and initially, it perplexed you. but what happens when trouble arises in ‘paradise’, and hidden feelings are revealed?

content warning: fluff, smut (18)+, sub switch!shuri, dom switch!reader, explicit language, dirty talk, pet!names, overstimulat!on, oral (both receiving), strap (reader receiving), scissor!ng, finger!ng (both receiving), rough!gestures, praise!kink, multiple orgasms, mentions of coming out, cheating

word count: 9.6k translations: nkosazana, princess. usana, baby. mhlobo wam, my dear. intombi entle, pretty girl.

authors note: y’all! hello everyone 🤭 i was gonna insert an intro but imma put it in my bio chile ik what y’all here for. i’m excited for this, this is my first fanfic on this app & y’all done woke up the writer in me again, these stories are so good!!! i’m usually a reader/consumer of the content but I love this community so I wanted to jump in there myself. i hope you guys love it, im gonna figure out the masterlist/requests/taglist thing if you guys want more. below tagged are my favoriteeee writers on here, baby y’all write down!!! oh and baby this is SMUT, okay we ain’t come here for play play! 🤣 no need for likes or reblogs, just wanna hear y’all feedback in the comments! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

@inmyheadimobsessed @pinkwright @generallysapphic @vixentheplanet @ventingfanfics @zayswriting @vampzx

"sssshit, baby wait--" you hissed through slightly parted lips as the princess's hands slid all over you, one finding its way to your entrance making teasingly slow circles. she brings you closer to her chest and lowers her pretty lips to your ear. "please don't deny me, nkosazana" she says with a low tone, sending chills down your spine. "i've been waiting so long." and that she has been. and you'd be a fool to deny her any longer. you fully surrender to her touch, and as soon as you relax, she sends her slim, polished, ringed finger up your pussy, pumping with a curve, sure to touch your center. "aghhh--" you let out a sharp wince and bite the corner of your bottom lip, preventing your scream. she then slips another finger & with each pump, she coos your praises sending you into overdrive. "shuri i'm so close please--" she moans at the sight of your reaction, pleased to have been successful in pleasing you. "let it go for me, usana, that's it" "fuck!" you cry out. "I love you so much" you throw your head back into her neck and flutter your eyelids into a slow shut, anticipating your release. 3 seconds away from arriving and-- ERRRR!! ERRRR!! ERRRR!! you launch your body up rapidly at the sound of your alarm, panting, attempting to catch your breath. "ugh," you groaned, as you turned over to silence the machine, almost breaking it with the force you applied. that was weird. this was the third time this week alone that you have had a wet dream about shuri. even weirder that you were annoyed at its end. the two of you have never been intimate; you weren't even attracted to women. sure you two were close, but it never exceeded its platonic state. awoken by your sudden movement and noise, your boyfriend, Jalen, turns over to you, eyes still shut. "mm, you good baby?" he asks, still half asleep, not totally interested anyway. "yea i'm cool, just startled that's all." halfway through your sentence, he was fast asleep again. you rolled your eyes before grabbing your phone to send a much anticipated text. "Happy Birthday to one of the realest, flyest, smartest, coolest, and kindest people to ever tread this floating rock. I love you! Oh-- and you a bad bitch too." you giggle at your dry humor. tonight was your friend Sevyn’s birthday. Sev had been there for you and Jalen all throughout college. she helped coach y'all through y'all issues both together and individually. she had been there emotionally, mentally, and even sometimes financially. she was an outstanding friend, and it was important that you made tonight special for her. you decided you would get up early and run some errands before the event tonight. as you rise up out of bed, you lightly stretch out your limbs, and walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day. after your normal face and dental hygiene routine, you prepare to take a warm shower. sliding down your underwear, the crotch of your lace peels off your body like a banana, slowly being attached to your skin by the slick caused by the series of imaginative events. it made your skin hot, leaving you slightly embarrassed at the fact that even affected you like that.

as you run your shower, you're certain Jalen was still sleep, and he needed to be up getting ready too.

"Jalen!--" You shout out of the bathroom. "hmmm?," he groans in annoyance, proving you right. "you know we got somewhere to be right?," you semi-yell and wait for his response. "I'm up, I'm up" he says, not convincingly at all. lately, he had been constantly putting off important things, or 'forgetting' them and you didn't know what the root of the issue was. It just seemed like he lacked interest lately. you just blamed it on his work, since it had been requiring his attendance overtime recently. spending all that time could drain somebody for sure. you were sure he meant no true harm. you take a hot, brisk shower, filling up the bathroom with vanilla, white birch, velvety rose and a drop of strawberry nectar-- the scents emerging from your you're the one shower gel from bath and body works.

your mind begins to wander as you lather up your body. you couldn’t figure out why you were so on edge. You and Jalen haven’t been too sexually active the past weeks, or active at all in that matter, but even when you were, it never riled you up like you had been in that dream. maybe you were just missing the constant physical attention you received at the beginning of the relationship. but didn’t that mean you would’ve had a dream about him?

today was so exciting. you had been so emerged in your own adulting, you barely had time to see your friends. you couldn't wait to link back up with sevyn, riri, and shuri. at the end of your shower, you dry off, lotion up, and get dressed in your fav, emerald green, 'running errands' sweatsuit. you put your thick, kinky hair in two space buns, slip on your AF1's and grab your things. walking past the bedroom you hear the deafening snores coming from your boyfriend. you decided to leave anyway and go run errands on your own. .. in a three and a half hour timespan, you were able to get your nails and toes done, pick up some new accessories for your outfit, and get your hair freshly silk pressed. the first time you have put heat in your hair in 3 years, and the health benefits were showing. you had it up in pin curls, and tucked away.

after your errands, you head to the venue and drop off the balloons, the cake, and the shoes you set out for Riri to match her outfit. Sev had no idea she was having a party. she knew you guys were taking her out tonight. you helped set up for a little before you headed out. as you go back home to get ready, you walk in and see Jalen on his game. "Baby, we gotta leave in a couple of hours. How have I managed to knock out my whole day and you ain't move but 3 feet?," you spat, visibly annoyed. "Oh uh, actually," he began, "I can't make Sev's tonight." you walk closer, scanning your boyfriend's facial expressions and body language, waiting for the punchline. "What do you mean you can't make Sev's? We been planning this for weeks, J."

he sighs in a somewhat sympathetic tone before standing to meet your gaze. "I know, babe, I'm sorry. Work called ag--" you cut him off, ready to spazz, but trying your hardest to remain a least a little level headed. "Work? you had all this time to put in for today, J. I mean, damn, they need you there, late, every day?" he pulls your body closer to him and lifts your chin to meet him eye level. "I'm sorry. I'll make up to you and Sev, you know I'm good for it. " he exclaims before slowly pecking your lips. you slightly shudder at the interaction, the most you have gotten in weeks. you roll your eyes before turning to walk away and he pops you on your ass. "Aye, don't give me that 'tude, aight." Jalen laughs. "Go finish getting sexy. And make sure I get my pictures!" he trails off to the bathroom.

you were disappointed, but decided you wouldn't let that get the best of you. you go back into your room and begin to set up your vanity dresser/mirror, in glam mode. you plug in your speaker and shuffle your caribbean vibes playlist, pre-gaming before the festivities. you took off your clothes, leaving you in your panty and bra set, and turned up the lights beaming from your vanity mirror. nothing could ruin this night, not even Jalen's lack of attendance. you decided to text the groupchat to check everyone's status. m'baku's big toe

you: ahem, hearye, hearye. i hope you hoes is getting ready! riri: girl i been getting ready, yk beauty takes time. or do you? idk you be lookin' a lil questionable 🥴 you: girl, fuck you! 🤣 shuri: I’m quicker than you both. 🙄 I’m dressed and out the door before you could attach your second false lash. sev: what you guys wearing?🙃 you: aht aht! it don't matter what we wearing, it's YOUR birthday. sev: i know, but i still don't know where you guys are taking me, i don't want to be over or under dressed😩 riri: girl you could come to the corner store in a disco ball. it's YOUR DAY. you: no, exactly shuri: whatever you guys wear, I'm sure it'll be glorious. now please hurry, i'm falling asleep!

you smile brightly at the texts laying out before you. one thing your friends could always do, was boost your mood. you breeze through your makeup, pausing mid-blend and mid-bake to buss a quick whine or to shout lyrics at the mirror with your gun finger emotes up.

you cocoa butter and oil up your body, giving it that shine and glow. you loved to look like you were glowing when you were dressed up. you slip on your black, mini, spaghetti strap body-con dress with a small slit in the thigh. you put on your sandal strap heels with the black base and clear straps. you place the single gold chain with a heart-shaped herb pendant on your neck, and the gold name plate bracelet to match both gifted from Shuri. It went perfectly with your outfit and the gold accents in the black hand purse you chose to wear for the night. you let your pin curls down and let them fall, slightly below your collarbone. you grab your favorite scent, instant crush by mancera, and give a spritz to all your intimate areas. glancing over yourself in the mirror, you have to say; you totally outdone yourself. it's been a while since you gave yourself this much attention to your appearance and it was well overdue. Jalen pops his head the room, dressed and seemingly in a rush. "alright babe, I'm out. have fun tonight and be safe." he turns out before you can even respond. "you didn't tell me how I looked!" you yell, trying to catch his ear before it was outside. "you look great as always! Love you, bye!" and with that the door shut. it's not that you needed to hear him say it to confirm how you looked, it was no question. but it's always nice to hear it from your partner. you shake it off and hype yourself up in the mirror before your phone begins to ring. it was Riri. you swipe to answer and were met with an enthusiastic exclamation. "We outsideeee!" Riri shouts, followed by cheers from the rest of the group. "Aowww!" you chuckle. "I'm on my way out now." you begin to walk out the door and towards the black Mercedes SVU truck, driven by Shuri. the windows roll down and it is an immediate uproar.

"Bombaaaa, what a gyal suh pretty, man eeee??!" Sev says flick-snapping her fingers, accentuating her Jamaican accent. "No, you look tf goodt! This how you step out for your friend, okay!" Riri says smiling ear to ear. Shuri's reaction is delayed but only because she's trying to take it all in. you were beautiful to Shuri, in every way, and she never hesitated to tell you that. Immediately she felt all the feelings she felt when she first met you rush to her heart , her throat and her stomach. If pupils could take shape, hers would be shaped in hearts. looking at her and waiting for her reaction, you catch her scanning your body and getting flustered. It was silent for a minute until she snaps back to the present moment. "Damn." she breathes out, causing everyone to fill up the rest of the silence with laughter. you hop in the backseat with Riri, admiring her orange turtleneck dress and her small straight back feed-ins. you guys take off, riding out about 20 minutes to your destination. every few minutes or so, you and Shuri would exchange a glance in the rear view mirror, slightly making you nervous. it wouldn't have been the first time, but this time was particularly making you feel a way. she had on a white hoodie and matching white joggers, a pair of 1's and a single plaited gold chain. she smelled of satin and eucalyptus, a strong but soothing scent. the fingers attached to her tattooed hands were freshly polished with a clear coat, reflecting a glare off of the traffic lights as her hands rested on the wheel. her undercut was freshly buzzed, emphasizing the powerful structure of her face. she was breathtaking. your mind began to wander, if you weren't mistaken, in the direction of the dream you had the previous night. before it could get too deep, your thought was interrupted.

"Time out," Sev turns to face you from the front passenger. "Where is J?" you sigh, initially forgetting all about him. "He had to work late, he told me to tell you he'd make it up to you." "Yo, that man is gonna work himself right into an early grave" Riri exclaimed. shuri scoffs at the sentence. you look up, interested in what she thought. "That's some bullshit. Ain't that much overtime in the world." she spat. you knew the two weren't the best of friends. but this comment was clearly shade. you got somewhat defensive. "What are you implying? I mean, he is the main provider of the house. It sound like his priorities are straight to me." you say, colder than you would've liked to. Shuri stared off into the distance of the road, giving a condescending hum before responding. "Mmm. Is that what it is? Okay. I mean one of your closest friends of 4 years' birthday sounds worth prioritizing to me, but what do I know, right?" this was the most you've seen Shuri get aggravated over him. Or anything for that matter. and in a weird way, her protectiveness made you feel something you wouldn't want to admit aloud. The silence after was bitter, but quickly broken after Sev jumps in. "Hey, look, it's fine" she lowly smiles and places her hand on mine. "I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by it. I'm with my girls tonight, let's just have fun." Shuri immediately shoots you an apologetic look. although she didn't regret what she said, she was always gentle with you & didn't want you to feel otherwise. you give her a slight nod and half smile, letting her know it was okay. I mean after all she was right. how could you wither away all your time somewhere where you didn't even need to, especially when you had the choice to be there for your friend? we park and step out the car, walking towards the venue. you could now see everybody in their entirety. the assignment was very clearly understood.

Sev looked beautiful. her locs she had been growing since the 3rd grade were up tightly in a neat, high bun. she had on a silver sequined body suit with a white mini skirt and white open toe heels to match. the windows were made with an ashed out material on the outside, only being able to see the lights reflecting. you, shuri, and riri shoot each other excited looks as Sev walks up first. "Damn, this restaurant is big!" Sev says, having no idea what she was getting ready to walk into. "She don't got a clue in the fucking world--" Riri says under her breath, imitating the Druski meme. simultaneously, you and Shuri tap her arm to shut her up, laughing all the while. she opens the door and everyone turns around. "Surprise!" Everyone yells and cheers, phone light cameras on, brightening up the space even more. all of Sevyn's closest friends and family were in attendance. you and the crew spent weeks formulating this. you knew Sev was homesick, and you wanted to make it as special as possible. the DJ plays Barbie Doll by Vershon as she walks out, giving her her dream entrance.

the different color fluorescent lights lit up the entire space, making the dance floor look electric. there were purple, gold, and silver confetti balloons bunched together and tied in every corner. there was even two 2 balloons tied above the special chair you guys decorated for her to sit as you sung happy birthday. "Oh my g--" Sev turns around to us, hands on her now heavily beating heart. her eyes immediately well with tears. "No you guys didn'tttt" you guys pull her in a group hug. "Yes we did!" Riri says, grabbing a napkin off the side table to pass to me. "Hey hey, don't cry sister, you gon' mess up your pretty makeup!" you pout, using the napkin Riri passed you to blot the corners of her eye. Sev was so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. she loved you guys dearly, but she missed her family back home as well. she mouthed 'I love you' and blew a kiss before she turned to make her rounds around the room. the three of you made a couple rounds yourself and headed for the bar, ready to get your night started. .. about an hour goes by, and Riri rounds everybody up around Sev's chair to sing happy birthday. Shuri brings out her favorite-flavored, cookies and cream ice-cream cake and lays it on the table before her. Happy Earthstrong, Bad Gyal Sevyn! it reads, in purple letters, two gold 2's standing besides each other in the middle. she makes her wishes and blows out her candles, and from there, the real celebration begins.

as the night went on, the tunes were rolling in and at this point every one was tipsy and dancing. one of your favorite Afrobeats songs off of Wizkid's new album started playing. before you knew it, you felt yourself floating to the dance floor. you began to roll your hips, slow to the downbeat, eyes shut, feeling every word.

Mami You making me lose my eyes for other girls No do me something wey go make me stress Give me less of that, give me more of you Give me something I'll never want to lose, yeah

as you continuing dancing, you feel familiar hands slide around your waist and pull you into them. It was Shuri. she had been watching you dance and decided she no longer wanted you to do so alone. as she presses up against you, she begins to whine her hips, matching your rhythm. smiling to yourself, you slightly bend over, adding more dynamic to your movement. as a result, Shuri leans back and catches it. "You go girl," she says in the American accent she had been practicing so heavily lately, making the two of you laugh. you lift back up, keeping the whine more intimate, and she lowers herself to your ear. "You look stunning tonight, nkosazana." She says, sending a chill through you. she had called you that same thing in the dream. her nicknames for you sounded so much better in Xhosa than it did in English. "As do you, my love." you reply, still dancing. "I'm sorry for earlier," she begins, "I didn't mean to offend you. I just get protective when I feel my friends are being taken advantage of."

you slide your hands down to interlock over hers, which were placed around your waist, in an attempt to soothe her, wanting to forget the conversation happened. It works, as you feel her melt further into you. "Shuri it's okay, I promise. I appreciate you looking out, you know that. you were right anyway. he should've been here." you lift a hand to place a kiss on it. she uses that same hand and turns you around to face her, wrapping her arms around your waist. you smooth your arms around her neck and for a moment, it feels like it's only you two in the room. the two of you rock side to side, legs intertwined, in a kompa-like style and she brings herself to your ear and begins to lowly sing-hum the lyrics to the song. Who's gonna know? At the end of the day, I'm yours For the night only, baby, ooh Turn me on, I'm yours For the night only, baby, ooh Ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh you felt like you were dreaming again. was she singing these lyrics to you? or was that just something you wanted to hear? you pull back and make eye-contact with the royal girl, and she's looking at you with a look you've seen before, but just not in real life. "I've been dying to hold you just like this." She blurts out, not breaking the eye contact and you can feel a lump begin to form in your throat. you smile at her, slightly nudging her off. "what are you talking about? we're always affectionate with each other. you hold me all the time" you laugh. it was true. hugs and kisses weren't foreign to you two, and neither was dancing. but somehow this felt intense. "not in the way I want to." she says, making a triangle with her eyes from your left-eye, to your lips, to your right-eye. "and what way is that?" you say directly, almost seductively. you felt it slightly inappropriate to build upon this tension, but once you got in that flirtatious mode, it was hard to come out of it. however, it only happened when you were attracted to said person. and you admit shuri was beautiful, but it never occurred to you that your attraction had been more than just a friend admiring a friend. she picks up on your tone, taking it as a green light to continue.

“Like this.”

she says into your neck as she turns you back around, leaving 3 soft kisses down your collar bone.

you lightly hum in satisfaction and reach your hand around Shuri’s head, bringing her closer and pressing yourself on her pelvis. you drag your hand down her undercut and across her jaw, holding her face to your neck, keeping it warm. she shudders under your touch and lowly moans at your reaction to hers.

I've been waiting for you to come my way (my way)

Put the sun in my rainy day (rainy day)

For your type, I go wait for days, my girl

Girl, your type of feel no dey give me pain

Girl, your picture fits my frame

There for you in a thousand ways, my girl

For the night, for the night

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, ooh, yeah

“Come home with me, tonight Y/N.” she pleads. immediately you feel your knees buckle at the statement. you wanted to say yes so bad, but you couldn’t promise good behavior. And for that, it would be inappropriate for you to. besides you had to let Jalen in since he lost his key.

“I don’t know, Shuri. I gotta be home to open the door for J.” You say with slight disappointment in your tone of voice.

Before the Princess could respond, the two of you are interrupted by a loud mic feedback screech, followed by a very drunk and very happy announcement.

“Thank you everybody for coming out tonight!” Sevyn begins. “I’m so grateful for my beautiful family and my BOMB ASS FRIENDS, I’m having the time of my life, truly. One more year pan di fucka dem, how yuh mean?!!! “ The party erupts in cheers and mimicked mouth sounds of gunshots.

“And with that being said… IT’S SHOT O’CLOCK!!”

Beaming at her excitement, you match her energy. “SHOT O’CLOCK!!!”

Everybody takes their shot given out to them earlier throughout the night, raises it, and backs it. The music starts up again and people are back dancing. The four of you group up by the bar.

“So sis,” Riri starts, facing Sev. “Do you love it or do you love it?!”

“You guys are fucking unreal,” she says slurring. “I’m having so much fun. Thank you. All of you.” She hugs us each and begins to tear up again.

“You know we got your back like your spine do, Sev.” Shuri says, doing the handshake the four of you had created with her.

Riri’s phone buzzes and as she checks her notification, her face drops.

you all pick up on the shift in energy, but Shuri beats you guys to the chase.

“What’s wrong, Ri?” she asks attentively.

anticipating her answer, you look at her waiting for a response, and she immediately looks up at you.

“Y/N,…” She looked so sympathetic. As if something happened to you.

“What? what is it?” you began to get nervous.

Riri squeezes in between in all of us, sharing the view of the phone.

It’s a video sent to Riri’s instagram.

‘Ri, ain’t this your friends man?’

It was your boyfriend Jalen, wearing the same thing he had on when he left the house earlier that afternoon. In the bed, with another familiar face. It was his ex, Mya. the two were kissing. the video was captioned ‘never too far’ with the song “Can’t Leave Him Alone” by Ciara and 50cent attached to it.

a hot pit immediately formed in your stomach and you felt nauseous. Before you could think to cry, the tears were already flowing.

“Are you fucking serious!” Sevyn says, unaware of how loud she truly was, compliments of her inebriated nature.

“I’m sorry, sis. this is so fucked up.” Riri says rubbing your back.

work huh? he had been cheating the entire time. the lack of affection, the flopping on plans, forgetting important dates, no sex. the whole time you’ve been making excuses for him, considering his emotions and hardships, he had been occupying his time and energy somewhere else.

“That fucking jerk-off.” Shuri spat so harshly it almost made you jump. as you glanced over her face, you could see a dark, glossy glare in her eye and her jaw flexing from her biting down so hard. her Kimoyo beads turn a bright, glowy red, activating the mood generator she had added to it, just for shits and giggles in her free time. It meant anger. you knew that. she turns to you, noticing your state and cups your face and immediately wipes your tears with her thumbs.

“Listen to me,” she says, holding the attention she already previously grabbed. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him. He didn’t deserve you then, and he doesn’t deserve you now.”

you nod at everything she says. you know she’s right, but the tears just wouldn’t stop flowing. it was hurtful. it was downright disrespectful.

“Girl, we can pack up all your stuff and you come stay with me,” Riri says very sweetly but very serious.

“Fuck that,” you laugh in between sniffles, with your thoughts residing in audacity. “That’s my shit. He could get out!”

“I know that’s right!” Sevyn says smacking her hand down on the bar countertop.

you all laugh. humor was how you four coped with everything. more than anything you were appalled at these series of events, but you wouldn’t let it sack your night. tonight is about Sevyn. You got yourself together, had a few more shots, and the four of you continued the night, as intended.

..

It was 1 AM and the night was over. everyone kissed and hugged goodbye and made their way out. Shuri had Sevyn over her shoulder, placing her gently in the backseat of the SUV. she was too drunk to function, but in Sevyn’s words, “The night wasn’t crunk, If I wasn’t drunk”

I laughed aloud at the thought of her saying that. we all hop in the car and Shuri being the most sober, barely even tipsy, drives everyone home. we get to Sev’s house first.

“I’m gonna stay with Sev and nurse her back to health.” Riri half chuckles, gathering all of her and Sev’s belongings.

“I am health!” Sevyn slurs, mixing up health and healthy. We all laugh.

“Yeah ok superstar.” Shuri smiles.

“Goodnight y’all,” you say warmly. “Happy Birthday again, Sev.”

“Goodnight, take it easy, okay Y/N/N?” Riri says to you. You give her a reassuring nod.

“Yeah and fuck that nigg—!” was the last thing you heard before the back door shut. You laugh uncontrollably, knowing it was Sevyn, making it clear she had your back. you wait until they get inside and Shuri drives off. for a while, it's silent, until you break it. "Thank you, Shuri." you began, sheepishly, fidgeting your fingers. "For speaking life into me, and making sure I enjoyed my night." you could see her crack a small smile. "Of course, Y/N. What kind of friend would I be not to?" she reaches out and rests her hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. the gesture makes you squirm. Pretending not to notice, Shuri asks, "Did you want to stop by anywhere before we reach your house? Something to eat? Or maybe an airbed?" "Shut up!," You burst into laughter, nudging her shoulder. She was very good with lightening moods, and she was also very funny. "Actually," you began, feeling that bold feeling you had felt earlier. "I was hoping you could take me home. to your home." you say, this time, with the full intent of sounding seductive. you reach over and rub the back of her neck, ever so gently. "Oh, uh-" you notice the 'adam's apple' portion of her neck move as she swallows, caught off guard by your sudden gesture. "Yea, definitely, that's fine with me." her kimoyo beads then started to glow a dark fuchsia. Your head tilted at the sight. That was new. You were there the millions of times that Shuri had ran tests on this feature, but you couldn't recall seeing this color before. "What does fuchsia mean, Princess?" You turn to her, genuinely interested. normally, she hated when you were formal with her. but as of these recent events, she was sort of turned on by it. she looks at you, and with a shy, stuttered tone she replies, "Arousal."

"Oh.." at a loss for words, you feel the pace of your heartbeat pick up, in both places of which a heartbeat may reside in a woman. she was aroused by you. a gentle touch alone from you made her arousal grow and the thought of that made your curiosity quickly turn into certainty. you wanted her bad, and was over pretending that you didn't.

You finally park, and the two of you head inside Shuri's apartment complex, which she had owned and had other people rent out. you went up to the top floor and trailed off into the Princess's palace. Shuri's home was so warm. Welcoming. the decor filled with blues, whites, and silvers, mimicking her lab back at her home Wakanda. The two of you enter her spacious room and immediately she begins to undress. she slips off her hoodie, exposing her toned and muscled arms elongating out of her wifebeater. her beauty was so effortless. And in that moment you could only think of those arms holding you. Or restraining you. either would suffice. "I'm gonna hop in the shower, Y/N," she begins. "You're welcome to shower here or in any of the guest bathrooms. It's up to you." "I'm gonna go in the guest room. Where are your towels?" you ask. she goes in her closet and comes out with a baby blue towel and two wash rags, one white and one blue, and hands them to you. you notice they're the same set from when you slept over last summer. "I never used them and purposely and kept it separated from all my others. I know blue's your favorite." She says, almost bashful. "How sweet, Shuri, thank you," you swoon at the gesture. that's another thing you adored about Shuri. She was so attentive. she knew everything about you & incorporated that information into thoughtful gestures like those. It seemed small but it made your day. "Anything for you, nkosazana." she says, sealing her statement with a wink. There that word went again. Princess. It was like she was taunting you. you smiled bleakly, and made your way to bathroom. the words lingered in your mind. did she mean anything?

as the hot water steams up the bathroom and falls against your skin, rinsing it of the dove body wash it was lathered with, your mind began to wander again. you began to have flash backs. when the two of you first met, your first 1 on 1 hang out, the shows she'd come see you perform in, her taking you to meet her family back in Wakanda. You felt safe in her presence. Comfortable, relaxed, inspired. Beautiful. Something you haven't felt in someone for a really long time. And it hit you. You were in love with Shuri Udaku. You weren't sure what to do with that information. It would mean two things, forcing you to face the truth; One, you were attracted to women. And two, your relationship with Jalen wasn't at all what you painted it out to be all these years. Oddly enough, you still felt bad for carrying on the way you knew you were about to. Not that bad though. after your shower, you walk back into Shuri'’s room, seeing her in her tank & a pair of boxers, at her desk, finishing up some last minute work drafts like the workaholic she was. you knock lightly and break her focus. "Hey," you say meekly, and before you know it, you're back into tears. "Hey, hey, hey, come here. " Shuri quickly pulls you into her lap. "Fuck him. I want you to fully process your emotions, but I don't wanna see two many tears shed over that waste. unless they are tears of joy, of course." she rubs the sides of your shoulders and kisses the back of them. but it wasn't even that. the truth was, you were overwhelmed. of course it hurt seeing what you saw earlier. but through all that turmoil, the only thing you could seem to think of was your feelings for Shuri. "Shuri-," you say, through a sob. "What is it my love, talk to me." Shuri's face grew with concern as she positioned you to now be face to face with her. "I think I'm in love with you," you manage to get out, eyes overflowing with tears. Shuri's reaction was mixed with shock, relief, and excitement. she had been in love with you since she meant you. It had been hell to pretend like she wasn't. she was equally allured by the content of your character as she was your pretty face and equally perfect figure. sure, she was a little jealous watching you be with someone else, but it wasn't jealousy alone. she knew Jalen wasn't shit. It just had to come up in the physical form. “Oh, Thank Bast.” Shuri says, exhaling heavily.

you playfully tap her shoulder.

“Shuri, I’m serious!” you say, almost pouting.

“I know, I know. All jokes aside, you don’t know how happy I am to hear those words from you.” she says lowly, staring into your eyes.

“Really?” you say, not knowing what to think of the situation just of yet.

“Really.” she confirms. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you, Y/F/N.”

hearing those words sent a rush all over your body. if you could be desired by anyone, especially in that way, it would be Shuri. a woman of her beauty and intelligence being enamored by you was way more than flattering. The more time passed, the more your arousal grew hungrily. "So come show me." your response sounding more lewd than intended.

you positioned your body to sit on one of her legs. you grab her face and bring it towards you, kissing her slow and passionately. you both moan into the kiss, breaking the tension that had been so heavily building over the night. a wave of bliss washes over you immediately. as you deepen the kiss, Shuri’s hands travel up your sides and lands on your ass. you slide your hands up the back of her neck and tug lightly at her head of curls. you adjust yourself, purposely separating the boundary of your wrapped towel and your lower region, and you begin to grind your clit against her thigh. you could feel the secretion sliding between your skin.

“Y/N..” Shuri leaves a light moan onto your lips, lifting up for air. "Yes?" you begin kissing down her neck, lightly sucking. "I-is this okay?" Shuri could barely get out. "We don't have to"

you stood up, still hovering over her and peeled off your towel, dropping it to the floor. you take her finger swipe it across your entrance, allowing her to feel the mess she was beginning to create. you sucked yourself off of her, keeping your gaze onto her. "Does that answer your question, Princess?" you say, in an almost sinister tone. "Fuck.." Shuri trailed off, pleasantly surprised at your behavior. without any further question, she lifts you up with one arm and walks you over to the bed, laying you down. you wanted her so bad. this would be your first time with a woman, and although you were nervous, you were ready. you could easily figure out what she liked. you seen it in your dreams a million times. Shuri began kissing you all over your face, traveling down to your neck, eventually stopping at your chest. she hovers over your right nipple, the breeze from her breath causing you to jolt. she slides her hand up your torso and cups your other breast, lightly tugging on the nipple. she slightly drops her jaw, allowing her dribble to fall and coat your puffed nipple. she cleans it up before it droops below the surface. simultaneously, she drives her knee in between your legs, just close enough for the tip of her knee and your clit to kiss. you gasp at the quick exchange, your body squirming under her touch, semi-begging for more. "Stop teasing me, Shuri, please," you breath out. "Mm, mm." she shakes her head, detaching her lips from around your areola. "I've been waiting a long time for you. I'm taking my time. " she gives some attention your other nipple before traveling down your torso. she makes sure not to leave any skin on your body unloved. she wanted the way she truly felt to translate through her actions. she tugged you by the inside of your knees, pulling you closer to the end up of the bed, and kneeled down in front of your heat. "Shuriiii," you whined out, aching for her to do something. "What is it, usana?" she says, wanting you to be vocal. she was so deeply grateful to have heard you say the things she had only dreamt. "What do you need from me?" you had absolutely no problem being vocal. all your guilt, sadness, and confusion was out the window. all you wanted now was to make her feel how she made you in your dreams. sitting up on your forearms, you lock eyes with her, "put your mouth on her, please." "Yes, my love." she breaks eye contact with you and makes eye contact with your folds. "Hey, pretty girl," she cooes over your entrance. the seductive introduction made you melt like putty. She slides her two fingers up your slit, separating your folds, and exposing your now pulsating clit. In one quick motion, she wraps her pretty, royal lips around it and gives it a french kiss. "Yesss, fuck!--" you cry out. you been yearning for this moment, and seeing it come into fruition was driving you insane. still eating, shuri hums inside you, sending the vibrations through you. she slowly slides her fingers inside and begins pumping. you could feel the love at the end of her tongue, and you feel your eyes begin to well up. you throw your head back in intense pleasure. she taps the side of your hip twice, coming up to speak. "aht, aht. keep those pretty eyes on me, gorgeous" demanding your attention, still pumping. soon as your tear-filled eyes, meet hers, she adds another finger and begins to twist. "Ahh!" you pierce out a glass crushing scream, grabbing the sheet so hard you almost pop it off its corner. "I can't--" she silences your protest, shushing loudly, "yes you can baby, hold it for me, yeah?" wanting to be good for her, you just gave a weak nod. she lowers her lips back to your super sensitive bud, now edging it with the flat of her tongue. the combination of the two movements immediately tossed your stomach into knots, signaling a releasing creeping. "Shuri, I'm going to fucking cum--" you say through exhausted breath and gritted teeth. her expectations of you holding anything would soon be met with disappointment.

"I know baby, just a little while longer," she attempts to soothe you, failing terribly. she sucks one more time, slightly tugging at it, making the popping noise at the release. she takes her thumb and uses it as replacement for where her mouth was and uses her free hand to push your knees to your chest.

your legs involuntarily began to tremble and you knew you could hold it no longer.

"Baby," you gasp out, in a warning tone.

"come on, let it out." she gives you the green light and on command, you immediately pour out onto Shuri's fingers.

"Such a good fucking girl." she praises, and you ride out your O off of her fingers. she takes them out and lowers herself to your lips, giving you her fingers for the two of you to share. "You taste so good." she exclaims, moaning to herself.

you're a whimpering, moaning mess. you've never felt such an intense feeling in all the years your were in a relationship with that man. it awakens something in you, and you're ready to do whatever to make Shuri happy.

sitting up with her towering you, you and the Princess collaborate in lifting her shirt over her head. you take time admiring her slim but toned body and her small, perky and stiff breasts.

"You are so beautiful, Shuri." You say looking up to her, so very sincerely. she was really ethereal in every way. she had an androgynous vibe to her, being equally as pretty as she was handsome.

" I am a reflection of you, mhlobo wam." she replies before lifting your chin, placing a peck onto your lips. she always knew what to say.

you slide your fingers around the brim of her shorts before pulling them down, being greeted with her black boxers, being soaked at the front.

"Oh shit," you chuckle. "It's like that?" you look up at the now flustered girl. It was funny, but cute. as quick as she could be in control was as quick as she could become coy.

"It's not my fault," she says in a pouty tone. "You're just so--"

In the midst of her talking, you slip her out her boxers, lift her leg, and rest her foot on the tall bed post that stood beside you, exposing her pretty and dripping two-toned cunt. your eyebrows raised, surprised at her flexibility.

you let out a secluded breath, loving what you saw in front of you. "So..?" you ask, tauntingly, sliding your thumb up and down her middle.

“—Sexy.” her breath stifles, and her chest began to heave up and down.

“you think i’m sexy?” you taunt even further, now dipping your thumb in every one and again, enjoying watching her squirm.

“Y-yes,” her hips disobey her attempt to keep cool and begin bucking up.

“How sweet. Let me say, thank you.” you palm her plump bottom with both hands and pull your lips closer to her sweet spot. you lick a straight path from the bottom of her opening up and to the top and make a quick circle around her clit, sealing it with a kiss.

“Ohhh my f— Y/N..” Shuri felt as if she began to float. she had the prettiest girl at her mercy, and now she had her at her own. to see her underneath her, wanting her in the same way— the thought alone was enough for her cum.

“Tell me how you like it, Princess. Teach me.” you plead, wanting nothing more than to make her feel how she just made you. your eagerness to learn her body made her all the more excited to continue.

like a magnet, you attached your lips onto her second pair, and she guides you right where she wants you.

“Right there. S-slow, please.” she almost begs.

as asked, you rolled your tongue around her bud slowly. painfully slow. you were pleased with her taste & moaned in confirmation.

“Ughh,” her breathing becoming more unsteady, “Fuck, that feels so good, nkosazana.” proud and driven by the praise you were just given, you speed up your pace, just a little. this time, making it sloppy and shaking your head in it. you raise a finger and trace it along her entrance, waiting for the confirmation that it was okay. she nods.

you strike a finger up briskly, tongue still attacking her clit.

“Yes!” she cries out, holding a tighter grip on the sides of your head. you give a few more pumps before slipping another finger, eager to send her over. pushing deeper and deeper, you notice her juices begin to trickle down your fingers.

“are you close, my love?”you chase her expressions for an answer.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she whimpers out as you keep pumping. her eyes shut tight and her leg began to shake. she was a whimpering little thing. it was different from her normal, calm, masculine presenting energy. and you loved it.

you increase the pressure of your sucking and soon after you feel a rush of creamy substance floating down your tongue like a river. she sobs out as she comes down from her first O.

“Mmm.” you vocalize your satisfaction with her flavor. “thank you, princess.” you feel yourself oozing at the sight of her squirm.

“who— taught.. you.. that,” She says in between each gasp for air. you laugh at her possessive energy but flattered that your succeeded at your first attempt to please her.

gaining some of your leg strength back, you fall back on the bad, pulling Shuri on top of you and rolling over so that you were on top. you thought about this so many times and was ready to try it.

you spread her legs and lower your wet and pulsating clit to meet hers. feeling the warm & gushy sensation between you to caused you both to gasp at the same time.

“You so fucking nasty, my God.” Shuri groans aggressively, staring into your soul.

“For you. You damn right.” you bite back. you swooned at thought of being her fantasy. you were laying it all out for her, making her long term attraction worth it.

you held yourself up slightly, rocking back and forth, tribbing the nucleus of her treasure.

“That pussy feels so good on mine, fuck,” you moan, wanting to throw your head back but also not wanting to miss any reactions, for they were the navigator of your success rate.

“Shit!” her pretty brown eyes beginning to gloss over with water. she couldn’t believe how submissive she was acting, but she even more so couldn’t believe how filthy you were, especially involving her. you also couldn’t believe it either. to have never been with a woman, being with Shuri in this way felt so natural.

“Y/N please!” she cried out, grabbing your neck, pulling you forehead to forehead, the heart shaped herb necklace she gifted you now dangling in her face.

thrusting harder, you reach your hand up and massage her left breast, grazing her nipples with the edges of your nails.

the two of your bodies moved in the same patterns like a missing puzzle piece. you grabbed her by her face and kissed her passionately. uncontrollably moaning your mouth, she begins to cry, this time, letting her emotions take over her.

“I’m cumming, please, I can’t take anymore,” she reaches out to push your torso further away, but her hands are quickly pinned down over her head.

“I’m almost there baby, hold on.” You coo sweetly, noticing her begin to get overstimulated. You continue to thrust, picking up the pace to speed up your orgasm, talking Shuri through.

Shuri’s eyes began to roll back and her mouth was agape for so long from her silent cries, she started to drool.

“Shit,” you feel yourself getting ready to release. The sight of her under your control sped up the process by a whole lot. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming—fuck!” you began to whimper. By the time your juices flow out, Shuri let out a piercing screech, squirting all over you.

Shuri was now sobbing and shaking, violently. You wipe her tears and kiss all over her face, now laying beside her.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out,” you continue to kiss her and rub her to calm her down.

“I—I” she tries to vocalize something, but still hasn’t come down yet.

“Take your time, no need to rush.” you reassure her, still slightly out of breath yourself. you help her regulate her breathing and she finally makes out her sentence.

“I need to fuck you. Now.” she growled.

if she hadn’t before, the desire now was through the roof. this was the most aggressive you’d ever seen her-- also the most vulgar-- and after the damage you had just done to her, you were excited, but nervous to see how she would handle you.

her wobbly legs refraining her from being able to move as fast as she could, she hops up and limps over to her dresser draw, opening the top draw and taking out a pretty black, blue and silver strap. the design on it mimicking what would be the inside of a gadget. by it’s shiny and potent structure, you knew it was made of vibranium.

she slips the harness around her hips, tightening both ends to secure it, arms flexing in the process. effortlessly turning you on with every move.

“Come here, duchess.” she motions you over with two fingers. you immediately oblige, following her lead like a lost puppy.

she leads you over to the large mirror that resided on the wall on the other side of the bed. she swipes the slick from the middle of your entrance and uses it to lube up the tool.

“The safe word, is mango.” She began, looking at you through the mirror. “If it’s too much or it hurts, say that word, and i’ll stop immediately. Got it?”

you bite your lip nervously, and nod, doubting that you would ever be using it.

“Words, princess.” She says sternly, lifting up your chin.

“Y-yes.” you breathily respond. and just like that, you were back under her spell, ready to be used anyway she desired.

“There’s my girl.” She smirks before positioning herself behind you. something about her referring to you as her girl made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

you bent over and braced yourself on the mirror and suddenly you felt a poke at your entrance.

“You ready?” she asks. you nod way too eagerly. “I’m gonna count to 3… 1–“

before she ever got to two she slides her length up your canal and you gasp super sharply.

“Shuri!” you half moan, half growl, feeling good but snapping at her for cutting your time to prepare.

“Shh, you got it, come on,” she coaches. Shuri stroked her length in and out of you, slow and long, building up your anticipation.

“Shit!,” you spat, bitting down on your lip, adjusting to her length.

shuri had been developing this piece for a long time. she also was secretly restricting it for you, not knowing if you’d ever actually be together. but the very few times she did have other partners, she’d only use the regular silicone strap for them. only a woman of a certain poise and power was worthy of the contraption, and in this case, that woman was you. her intombi entle.

she had designed it to feel as close to skin as possible. she wanted you to feel the intimacy just as she did, being that she also designed it to allow her to feel you.

as she pumped in and out of you, your walls tightly clenched around her, almost fighting to keep her inside.

“Ugh,” Shuri grunted aloud. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Oh God,” you slur out. as your body was working overtime to stay cool, you feel yourself beginning to sweat profusely. your freshly done silk press now glued to your shoulders. “You feel so fucking good”

The Princess swiftly grabs your arms and folds them, locking them behind you. She holds up your perfect frame, forcing you to look at you both in the mirror.

“Look how pretty you look taking this dick, hmm?” she says lowly in your ear while speeding up her pace.

“Oh, fuck,” not having any control over what happens now, you begin to panic, the knot you now knew to be so familiar beginning to arise in your stomach.

“Say it. I wanna hear you,” she demands.

“Shuri, please,” you beg her to go easy on you, but she wasn’t having it. She gives an electrifying smack to your ass.

“Say. It.” She says through grit teeth, now with one hand full of your hair, slamming into you harder, directly on your g spot.

“I— aghhh!” you fight to get the words out. “I l-look s-so pretty taking th— this dick!”

she smiles sinisterly and quickly agrees. “Mm, yes you do.”

a question you usually scoff at arises, however, it’s a pleasure to hear the next sentence come from Shuri’s lips.

“Who’s pussy is this? Hm?” she knew exactly how to get you riled up. She so badly yearned to hear you surrender to her after watching you with someone else all this time. especially someone who didn’t deserve you.

“It’s yours, Shuri,” your words began to spill over like a fountain in sonic moans. “It’s yours, I’m yours, I belong to you!”

it was music to Shuri’s ears. you were hers. you said it, and that’s all the confirmation she needed.

“and don’t you ever fucking forget,” she spat.

hearing the royal speak so filthy and so rough was so shocking yet so enticing. her every word carried you closer and closer to your whit’s end.

still stroking, she yanks your head back and passionately kisses you, swallowing all your moans.

stomach tight, shuri’s strokes began to get sloppy, feeling your constant contract and release. she was quickly approaching her arrival.

“Shhhhuri, I’m about to—“ you began, almost snatching the words out her mouth.

“Cum. Cum with me, my pretty girl.” she gives 4 more sloppy pumps before she slides out, cumming all over herself; but not before you left a creamy, white ring all around her base. as soon as she comes out completely, you squirt out all over her lower region; something you had never done before. you squeal, in shock and excitement.

“You did such a good job, usana” Shuri pecks your lips and taps your slightly bruised ass. you beam at the praise she gives. she picks you up and carries you to the bed, gently laying you down before slipped off her harness and climbing in with you.

draping the covers over your naked bodies, you cuddle into Shuri, placing your head on her chest and she pulls you in closer. you throw your leg over her lower torso to get close as possible. you both listen to each other’s breath slowly come down to its original state. Shuri picks up and holds your hand that was previously laying on her chest, and kisses it. At peace and well satisfied, you feel yourself begin to drift off to sleep.

“not you falling asleep already,” Shuri laughs, mockingly.

usually you’d protest, but you let her rock on this one.

“I love you so much.” you mummur, gazing up at Shuri.

“I love you so much more. Thank you for trusting me with your body.” She says sincerely.

“I trust you with my life.” you say authentically as ever, overcome with feelings of euphoria.

“I trust you with mine.” she replies, almost instantly.

shuri lifts her hand, inviting you to do the handshake your friend group had made. the two added a special ending that nobody new about. the two of you share a blissful laugh at the comedic ending of it.

“Alright, my love, get some sleep.” Shuri rubs small circles on your back with one hand and rubs the leg thrown over her with the other.

“You got a boyfriend to break up with tomorrow.”

#shuri udaku #letitia wright #shuri x y/n #shuri fic #riri williams #one shot #smut #fluff #lesbian #sapphic #prettymrswright

[androgynealienfemme]

"What is butch? Rebellion against women's lot, against gender-role imperatives that pit boyness against girlness and then assign you-know-who the short straw. Butch is a giant fuck YOU! to compulsory femininity, just as lesbianism says the same to compulsory heterosexuality. I do not associate respect for compulsory anything with butchness, though perhaps some butch bottoms will disagree. I first gravitated toward butch women because they were the easiest female allies to recognize in my war against the compulsory world.

In the 1970s, when I came out in the dyke community, butch was dead and androgyny was practically an imperative. I didn't mind at first; girliness as a way of life hadn't worked out for me, and though I had always exhibited distinctly femme sexuality, I wasn't presenting myself to the world that way: I hadn't really grown into the image. I was young; the men I had fucked played "Me Tarzan, You Jane." I couldn't figure out how to get them to play the game by different rules. As soon as sex with them was over (or even while it was still going on) the whole thing felt stupid. Men who didn't play Tarzan were fine, but I couldn't figure out how to get them to fuck me. No doubt they were contending with their own straight (or not-so-straight) boy version of femme sexuality and were waiting for me to make the first move. Some men don't play Tarzan so as not to appear sexist; others just want you to do it-- grab their neckties and out them where you want them -- but I didn't know that at the time.

With some relief then, I retired the Jane I never wanted to be, reconstructed myself as an androgyne, and forsook my vain attempt to present my femininity to the world. The Uniform, actually, was Butch Lite. Jeans or chinos, flannel shirts or tees, sensible shoes-- either boots, athletic shoes, or Birkenstocks (it turns out the latter were incredibly subversive if you wore them with scarlet toenail polish, but that's another story). Almost the whole dyke community dressed this way: if a woman didn't, her politics and her sexual orientation were automatically up for debate.

The butches who were left over from the era before the purge also dressed this way. We had renamed the identity, it seemed, but kept the look. That way we could say we'd vanquished it, even as we kept it around to turn us on.

The unschooled eye couldn't tell the two sorts of women -- butches and androgynes-- apart. Butchness had been so thoroughly declared passe that an entire generation of dykes could dress in what was essentially butch-woman drag and evoke defensive responses only from conservative straight people (and very straight-identified "gay women").

At first I believed the mythos of the Vanished Butch (and her symbiotic sister-species, the Vanished Femme). But certain women wearing the Uniform made my nostrils flare, my tongue tie, my skin prickle like an electrical storm had passed. They filled the clothes differently. It took me some years to begin to understand why I wanted to chew on some women's thick brown leather belts and not on others.

Non-butch women wore the Uniform like librarians who had just come in from gardening. It was not clothes that made the woman. It was stance. It was attitude-- it was impossible to picture one of the librarians wearing a tux, or myself dressing in silk or lace to present myself to her. It was impossible to think of presenting myself to her at all, to offer her that mixture of allure and willingness that I desired to give a butch woman."

“Why I Love Butch Women” by Carol A. Queen, On Butch and Femme: Compiled Readings, (edited by I.M. Epstein) (2017)

#why I love butch women #dagger: on butch women #on butch and femme: compiled readings #on butch and femme #Carol queen #lesbian lit #lesbian #butch lesbian #butch #lesbian history #butch history #queer history #lgbtq+ history

[songbirdseung]

studio choom / nishimura riki

No one saw this coming, neither did you and ni-ki. As far as you knew, idols of the opposite gender would refrain to even look at each other when they are in public together. But today, you stand in a HYBE dance room about to practice a performance collaboration with Ni-Ki., a hip-hop dance routine with intricate partner work.

Ni-ki was already there, standing in front of a large mirror, studying his reflection with a focused expression. He looked even more captivating in person, his charisma and talent evident even before you started dancing. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness as you approached him.

"Hey, Ni-ki," you greeted him, trying to keep your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

He turned to you, and a warm smile lit up his face. "Hey, Y/N," he replied, his voice soft and friendly.

As you began discussing the choreography and the steps you'd be working on, you both maintained a professional demeanor, determined to keep your emotions in check. But beneath the surface, the chemistry was undeniable.

The first few attempts were filled with awkward moments as you tried to find your rhythm together. Your bodies brushed against each other, and your hands occasionally touched as you navigated the intricate partner work. Each time it happened, a rush of electricity shot through you, and you couldn't help but steal glances at Ni-ki.

You noticed that Ni-ki, too, seemed affected by the closeness. His cheeks flushed slightly, and his gaze lingered on you a beat longer than necessary. It was as if the unspoken attraction between you both was dancing alongside the choreography.

As the practice continued, you gradually fell into sync, the movements becoming smoother and more natural. With each passing hour, you and Ni-ki's connection deepened, both in terms of dance and something unspoken. It was a unique form of communication, where your bodies moved in harmony, speaking the language of the dance.

By the end of the practice, you were both exhausted but exhilarated. You shared a genuine smile, a sense of accomplishment washing over you.

"Great job, Y/N," Ni-ki said, his voice filled with admiration.

You couldn't help but blush as you replied, "You too, Ni-ki. We make a pretty good team."

Then just like that, your schedule was jam packed with your own group activities, individual work, and the collaboration. But with the never draining energy and passion you had, ni-ki and you eventually finished practicing, polishing, and filming the choreo at studio choom's building.

You and everyone else just had to wait for the video and behind to be released. The comments and post from fans once they saw the announcement was a joy to read through. The announcement that you and Ni-ki would be dancing together on Studio Choom had taken the K-pop world by storm.

"OMG, Y/N and Ni-ki dancing together??? I can't wait! This is going to be epic!!! 😍😍😍"

You continued scrolling, reading more and more comments from fans who were over the moon about the collaboration. There were messages of support, encouragement, and excitement. Some fans even shared their predictions and hopes for the performance, while others gushed about how much they admired you and Ni-ki.

"Y/N and Ni-ki are both incredible dancers! I know this is going to be legendary! 💃🕺"

"Can't believe my two favorites are dancing together! My heart can't handle this. ❤️"

"Y/N and Ni-ki, you're going to slay this! Can't wait to see the magic you create on that stage!"

"I've been a fan of Y/N for years, and watching her growth as an artist has been amazing. Now, seeing her collaborate with Ni-ki, it's like a dream come true. I can't express how proud I am of her."

As you continued scrolling through the comments and posts about your upcoming collaboration with Ni-ki, you couldn't help but stumble upon a few negative comments from jealous fans. It was inevitable that not everyone would be thrilled about the partnership, and you braced yourself for the less enthusiastic reactions.

"Ugh, why is Y/N dancing with Ni-ki? There are so many better dancers he could've collaborated with. 🙄"

"I don't get the hype around this. Y/N and Ni-ki? Really? They don't even match in style or talent."

"I used to be a fan of Y/N, but this collaboration just feels forced. She's trying too hard to stay relevant."

"Ni-ki deserves to dance with someone better than Y/N. He's too talented for this."

"I hope this collaboration flops. It's so obvious they're doing it for attention."

(a/n: see how ridiculous that sounds? So.. I hope none of you guys do this)

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as you read these comments. You knew that not everyone would be pleased with the collaboration, but it still hurt to see such negativity.

Y/N had just finished reading the negative comments from jealous fans when your phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Ni-ki, and seeing his name on the screen brought a small smile to your face.

Ni-ki: Hey, Y/N! 😊

Y/N: Hey, Ni-ki. How's it going?

Ni-ki: Pretty good! I read a few comments from the announcement, and I just wanted to check in on you. I know reading those comments can be tough.

You sighed, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness. Ni-ki always seemed to know when you needed a boost.

Y/N: Yeah, it's been a bit disheartening, to be honest.

Ni-ki: I get it, but remember, we're did this collaboration because we believe in each other's talents and that's what matters most.

Y/N: You're right, Ni-ki. Let's focus on the positive!

Ni-ki: That's the spirit! 💪 We're going to rock this collaboration, and the fans who believe in us will appreciate our hard work and dedication.

Y/N: Thanks, Ni-ki. Your support means the world to me.

Ni-ki: Anytime, Y/N. We've got this!

Eventually the anticipated content comes out and your groupmates are more excited than anyone else. The living room was buzzing with excitement as you, along with four of your group members, huddled together to watch the newly released collaboration video featuring you and Ni-ki. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hardly contain your nerves as the video began.

As the performance unfolded on the screen, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and excitement. Ni-ki and you moved in perfect harmony, executing each move with precision and flair. The chemistry between you two was palpable, and the fans' reactions had been overwhelmingly positive.

The cheers and claps from your group members filled the room as the video played. "Y/N, this is amazing! You guys are killing it!" one of them shouted.

"Yeah, seriously, it's like you were born to dance together!" another chimed in, her eyes glued to the screen.

But as the video progressed, you knew what was coming. The partner work section was about to start, and you could feel the teasing glances from your group members even before it began.

Ni-ki lifted you with effortless grace, and the chemistry between you two during the lift was undeniable. Your group members couldn't contain themselves any longer.

"Ooooh, look at that chemistry, Y/N!" one of them teased with a sly grin, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Another one joined in, "Yeah, Y/N, I think you and Ni-ki make a great team! Such natural chemistry!"

You blushed furiously, attempting to hide your embarrassment behind a playful glare. "Oh, come on, you guys! It's just a dance!"

But your group members continued to tease you relentlessly throughout the partner work section, their laughter and playful comments filling the room. Despite the teasing, you couldn't help but secretly enjoy the camaraderie and support of your friends.

As the video came to an end, your group members erupted into cheers and applause once more, showing their genuine pride and excitement for you. It was a memorable moment, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the amazing friends who had been with you every step of the way.

Meanwhile, Enhypen was in their living room. Everyone's eyes glued to the screen. Ni-ki's charisma and talent shone through as he danced, and the members couldn't help but cheer him on.

"Go, Ni-ki!" Jake exclaimed, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

Sunghoon nodded in agreement, adding, "He's nailing it! Look at those moves!"

The praise continued as they watched Ni-ki's performance, and his face lit up with a proud smile.

However, as the partner work part of the performance came into view, the members couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Ni-ki, knowing his feelings for Y/N.

Sunoo nudged Jungwon playfully and winked at Ni-ki on the screen. "Oh, Ni-ki, you're looking extra close with Y/N there! Any sparks flying?"

Jungwon chimed in, "Yeah, Ni-ki, did your heart skip a beat during that lift?"

Ni-ki blushed and tried to play it cool, though his embarrassment was evident. "Come on, guys, it's just a dance routine."

Heeseung couldn't resist joining in. "Hmm, I don't know, Ni-ki. Looks like there's some chemistry there."

Jay laughed and added, "Ni-ki, you're busted! We know you've got a crush on Y/N!"

Ni-ki's face turned a deeper shade of red, and he buried his face in his hands as the members continued to tease him relentlessly. As the video finished, Ni-ki's phone buzzed with a new message notification. He quickly grabbed it and saw that it was a text from Y/N. A warm smile spread across his face as he read her encouraging words.

"Ni-ki, you were amazing! Your hard work truly paid off. So proud of you!"

Jay, always the observant one, noticed Ni-ki's smile and leaned over to peek at the message. He couldn't resist the chance to continue teasing Ni-ki. "Oh, what's this, Ni-ki? A text from Y/N? Is she congratulating you on your dance… or maybe something more?"

Ni-ki's cheeks flushed even deeper, and he playfully swatted Jay away. "Come on, Jay, it's just a friendly message."

The other Enhypen members joined in the teasing, laughing and egging Ni-ki on as he tried to downplay the significance of Y/N's text. It was all in good fun, and Ni-ki couldn't help but chuckle along with them, grateful for their support and camaraderie.

And of course, we can't leave out the fans.

"Ni-ki and Y/N's chemistry on stage is INSANE! They absolutely killed it. 🔥🔥🔥"

"I've been a fan of Y/N for years, and seeing her collaborate with Ni-ki is a dream come true. They're a match made in dancing heaven! 💃🕺"

"The way Ni-ki and Y/N move together is pure art. You can tell they put their hearts into this performance. ❤️"

"This collaboration just proved that Ni-ki and Y/N are both incredibly talented. I can't stop watching it!"

"I was hoping for a better collaboration. Ni-ki deserves a partner who can keep up with his level of skill."

"Y/N should have chosen a different partner. Ni-ki's good, but this just doesn't work for me."

Nonetheless, the collaboration undoubtedly left a lasting impression on those who appreciated the talent and hard work that went into it.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #niki #ni-ki #riki #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #riki x reader #riki smau #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen #ni ki smau #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines

[inlovewithpandora]

- My Heart -

Pairing: Aged!up Tsireya (18) x fem! Metkayina!deaf!reader (18)

Synopsis: You and Tsireya have been friends for years and you’ve always wondered if she liked you. You felt like there was a spark between the both of you until something happened and blew the fire away… or did it?

Content: childhood friends to lovers, slight angst, miscommunication, a little hurt w/ comfort, super fluffy, kiss at the end, courting gift, courting proposal

Author’s Note: This only took me two days to write! Writing for Tsireya is so fun for me, Im going to try and write for her more often! (So if you have requests for her feel free to send them in)

- ‘Sentences bolded and italicized indicates signing’

- Please excuse any mistakes!

Word Count: 3.2k

Glossary: Tsakarem - Tsahìk in training || Skxawng - idiot,moron || yawntutsyìp - little loved one, darling || Olo'eyktan - Clan Leader || Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

Extra: requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Masterlist || Taglist

Ever since you were a small child you knew you were different. You couldn't hear the ocean waves crashing into the sand, the laughter of children playing, or the voices of your parents when they attempted to communicate with you.

When your parents noticed that you didn't react to loud noise, them calling your name, or anything else related to hearing they immediately took you to the Tsahìk hoping that she could cure you.

Ronal tried multiple rituals, herbs, and techniques but nothing was successful.

That's when you were deemed deaf.

You were never mad or sad that Eywa made you this way. You felt like the Great Mother blessed you with a deep connection to her world. You always believed that not having one sense heightened your others.

Wherever you looked or touched you could feel her presence. The wind gliding across your skin, the coolness of the ocean water as you swam around, looking at the beautiful aquatic creatures, and the way your body absorbed the sun's warmth.

You admired every aspect and detail of Pandora.

You always loved collecting shells and incorporating them into your latest hairstyle, weaving them into necklaces, bracelets, or gorgeous headpieces.

Growing up you didn't have many friends due to your condition. Children in the village weren't fond of being your companion because they felt like you wouldn't be able to keep up with them.

You and Tsireya met for the first time when both of you were ten years old, she had seen you walking around the village multiple times and she always wondered why you were alone. One day Tsireya and Ronal were walking to their marui when Tsireya saw you from afar, sitting in the sand drawing different images with your fingers.

"Mother, why is she always alone? Why doesn't she talk to anyone?" Tsireya questioned her mother

"She is deaf yawntutsyìp therefore she cannot speak since she's never learned how. Whenever someone tries to speak to her she can't hear them" Ronal knew how much of a loving and caring heart her daughter had and she knew that Tsireya wanted to get to know you, "Maybe you should go play with her one day, I know she would love your company"

And the next day Tsireya came up to you in hopes to create a friendship. You were doing your normal routine, playing in the sand. As you drew pictures of your favorite fish you felt a tap on your shoulder which startled you a little. You turned around and came face to face with Tsireya, 'Hi, I'm Tsireya what's your name?' she signed to you with a friendly, bright smile

'I'm y/n'

'Do you want to make necklaces with me?' Tsireya gestures to the basket next to her filled with woven string, shells, polished stones, and other materials.

You were surprised by her offer. That someone wanted to do an activity with you, especially the Olo'eyktan's and Tsahìk's daughter, 'Yes I would like that. Necklaces are my favorite thing to make' you sign to her, feeling a sense of excitement swirl inside you.

Tsireya sat down next to you and placed the basket in between both of you and began to create beautiful necklaces to wear around the village. That was one of your favorite childhood memories, the day you made your first friend.

—

After that day, both of you were inseparable from each other including today. Both of you were now eighteen and were still stuck to the hip. Every day you and Tsireya spent together her heart filled with love for you.

She loved watching you teach young Na'vi children sign language. The way you were patient with them, the excitement on your face when they mastered a new word or sentence, and the passion you showed while teaching them new things.

You and Tsireya would spend any waking moment together. While Tsireya did her clan duties she would always ask you to tag along with her and of course, you didn't mind. Some days while her and Ronal would work on creating new healing herbs you would sit in the corner quietly, just observing, and sometimes Ronal would let you assist.

Tsireya had such an effect on you. The way your body tingles when she taps you to get your attention, the way your heart skips a beat when she signs your name gracefully, and you absolutely loved it when both of you would sneak out at night and stargaze under the beautiful moonlight.

Even though you had love for her, you never wanted to admit it out loud. You felt like Tsireya could do so much better than you. Multiple people wanted to be Tsireya's future mate which you knew. She had multiple potential suitors, hearing suitors.

Your deafness made you feel inadequate because you would never be able to hear her speak sweet nothings to you, if you ever decided to adopt children you wouldn't even be able to hear their giggles, and if they got hurt you couldn’t speak comforting words to them. Just the thought of it that and more made you feel insecure that you couldn't provide Tsireya what she deserves in a significant other.

For the past few weeks, you and Tsireya haven't been spending as much time together, due to her teaching the Sully children the way of water. You wished you could see her more often but you knew she had a numerous amount of duties due to her being tsakarem.

Since Tsireya wasn't around as much you've been spending more time with Ronal, helping her with her duties which she didn't mind because she loved having you around.

'y/n go get Tsireya for me, she should still be at the beach teaching the Sully children' Ronal requested as she organized her collection of herbs.

You nodded in response, pushing yourself on your feet and began walking towards the beach. As you walked you were getting slight butterflies at the thought of seeing Tsireya. You haven't seen her all day so you were anticipating seeing her beautiful face and feeling her touch.

As your feet planted on the sand you begin to look around for Tsireya but you didn't see her, as you wander around the beach you ran into Ao'nung, 'Ao'nung, have you seen Tsireya? Your mother is asking for her' you signed to him hoping he could help you with your search for his sister

'Oh yeah her and that skxawng are over there' he signed with an annoyed look at the mention of Lo'ak

'Okay thank you' you begin to walk over to the place Aonung said Tsireya was.

As you walk to the other end of the beach you see Lo'ak and Tsireya sitting next to each other. Right when you were about to make your presence known and walk into their line of sight you saw Tsireya place her hands on Lo’ak’s chest.

When you saw the way Lo'ak looked at her, the way his eyes frantically tried to avert her gaze as he blushed made your face contort. The way Tsireya touched him didn't seem platonic, it seemed loving, the way you wanted her to touch you she touched him and it made you feel multiple emotions at once.

As you continued to watch them your stomach began to churn. Watching the person you love be with someone else in this way made you feel disgusted. You couldn't believe that she was into Lo'ak, she never said anything about him that gave the notion that she liked him so you were taken aback.

You could see Lo'ak begin to lean in and that just sent you over the top, you had enough. You turned your heels in the sand and stormed away. Knowing that they were kissing right now made you feel an agonizing pain in your heart, you felt so stupid for having feelings for Tsireya when you knew that her heart could belong to another.

You felt dumb for thinking someone, thinking Tsireya, the next heir of the Tsahìk title could ever love someone like you.

You didn't even walk back to Ronal's marui. You went to your marui instead and began to sulk, cry, whatever you needed to do so this melancholic feeling could subside.

—

You've been avoiding Tsireya for almost a week now. Every time you say her even attempt to walk in your direction you turned the other way. You couldn't even look at her without seeing an image of her and Lo'ak, the thought of her loving him made your skin crawl.

Currently, you and Kiri were talking while sitting at the pier, 'Kiri I love your shawl, your going to have to show me how to make one'

'Yes, of course, you can come by my mauri tomorrow and I'll show you'

As you and Kiri continued laughing and conversing your mind couldn't do anything except drift off to Tsireya. As much as you wanted to get her out of your head you couldn't and thinking of her not seeing you the way you saw her just made you feel sick to the stomach.

'y/n what's wrong? Are you okay?' Kiri noticed how your once happy expression turned downcast in a matter of seconds

'I saw Lo'ak and Tsireya together almost a week ago' As your hands moved your eyes held nothing but sadness, just talking about the situation made tears want to evade your eyes.

Kiri saw your expression and she was slightly confused, she didn’t understand why you would be saddened by that, ‘Why is that bothering you?’

‘Because…’ you hesitated on signing the rest of the sentence. You felt like if you signed it, it would feel too real, ‘I like Tsireya but she doesn’t like me back’

It all clicked for Kiri, she noticed how you’ve been avoiding Tsireya and it all made sense to her, you were lovesick, ‘oh y/n, I’m so sorry come here’ Kiri pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back in a comforting manner.

As Kiri comforted you, you could see someone walking in the distance. Once the person got closer you could see their face. It was Tsireya, the person you didn’t want to see.

you pulled back from Kiri’s embrace and pushed yourself onto your feet, 'I'm sorry Kiri, I have to go' As you signed your eyes began glossy from unshed tears. If you stood there another minute you felt like you would breakdown completely so you just took off.

As Tsireya watched you scurry off it made her ears pin to her skull, she couldn't understand why you'd been avoiding her. She has missed you dearly. She missed hearing your laugh and watching your face light up with a smile. She couldn’t understand why you’ve been so distant all of a sudden so she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

She walked up to her Kiri and began to ask her questions, “Do you know what’s wrong with y/n? She’s been avoiding me and I don’t understand why”

“Well… I don’t feel like it’s my place to say…” Kiri didn’t want to out your feelings because she didn’t know if Tsireya knew how you felt about her or not.

“Please Kiri, I need your help” Kiri could hear the desperation in her voice, she knew that Tsireya really wanted to know how to fix it with you.

“All I’m going to say is talk to her. The reason she’s avoiding can be fixed with honest and open conversation”

“Okay, I’ll go talk to her, right now. Thank you Kiri” Tsireya began to walk around the village with a determined look on her face, trying to find you so she could make this right.

—

You were sitting on the edge of your bed crying, wondering why you felt so upset about this. You knew that Tsireya could have feelings for another person but deep down you hoped to Eywa it was you, that she felt a burning desire for you.

As the tears flowed freely down your cheeks, you began to see a shadow of someone walking inside your marui. When Tsireya walked in she saw you frantically wiping your tears which made her feel a twinge of pain in her heart.

‘Why are you here?’

‘Because I haven’t talked to you in almost a week, you’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why’

You began shaking your head. You didn’t want to tell her because you felt like it didn’t matter. You figured there was no point in telling her your true feelings if she didn’t like you back, ‘No Tsireya, I’m not telling you’

Tsireya's face began to contort into a confused expression, ‘Why not?’

‘Because it doesn’t matter anymore Tsireya’

‘Why doesn’t it matter? Tell me, I want to make this right, I want to know what’s bothering you’ Tsireya placed her hands on your shoulder, gliding her thumb against your skin lightly.

Oh how you missed her touch, the way her hands felt against your skin made you want to melt into a puddle but all you could do is think about how that same hand was on Lo’ak, ‘Stop Tsireya’ you stand up abruptly and walk over to the other side of your mauri. You could feel all the sadness stir into another emotio, Anger.

‘Stop what?’

‘Touching me, just stop okay?! Why don’t you go and touch Lo’ak!’ Your hands were being to move at the speed of light, the more you signed to her your heartbeat began to increase.

‘Touch Lo’ak? What are you talking about?’

‘I saw you and him at the end of the beach, you put your hands on his chest and then he leaned and… kissed you’

‘y/n wait that’s not-’

‘You know I really thought you could like me, that you would see me the way I see you but it’s clear that you like him instead of me. I feel like such a skxawng for thinking you would want someone like me, someone who can’t even give you what you need in a mate’

From this moment there was no going back for you, you were starting to ramble and there was no possible way to take back any of your words. You didn’t want her to find out that you liked her this way but it was too late.

‘You deserve someone who can listen to your problems. Someone who can vocally tell you words of love and affection, someone, who has the same abilities as you and I can’t provide any of that’ Your hands began to shake as you signed, sobs began to try and emerge from your throat but you tried your best to reduce them.

‘I know you love another and I can’t help but be upset, I can’t provide you with things as he can and it makes me feel horrible’

The only thing Tsireya could do is shake her head, the way she saw you talk about yourself saddened her. She feels dumb for not telling you her true feelings before. She felt like if she would’ve admitted her fondness for you this whole thing would’ve been avoided.

‘y/n, I do not like Lo’ak’

‘You don’t?’

‘No, what you saw was me working with him on his breathing lessons and he interpreted it as flirting. When he leaned in attempting to kiss me I told him that my heart already belonged to someone’

Tsireya walked up to you and placed your hand on her chest, letting you feel her heartbeat.

As your hand made contact with her skin, you felt shivers run down your spine. The anger and sadness you felt in your heart were replaced with joy, the joy that your assumption about her liking Lo’ak was false.

‘My heart belongs to you, it always has. From the moment we met as children, I knew you were special and you are. I do not need to hear you vocally speak because you speak to me with your heart. I don’t need to hear your words when I know they are genuine and kind. I don’t need your words when just your touches and your presence is enough, all I need is you y/n’

As you saw Tsireya’s words, seeing how she felt about you made you become overwhelmed with emotion. Your lips began to tremble as you attempted to hold yourself together. This was the moment you’d been waiting on for years, to know that Tsireya loved you just like you loved her.

‘You are not inadequate because you can’t hear like me, it only makes you unique from everyone else. The way you see the world is amazing. The way you care for Eywa, our clan, the young na’vi you teach’ Tsireya takes a small breath, feeling a tear fall down her cheek, ‘The way you love and care for me speaks volumes to where you don’t have you to’

‘I can’t fathom living this life another second without having you by my side…’ Tsireya reaches into her pouch that is around her waist and pulls out a beautiful necklace adorned with small iridescent seashells and delicate beads.

‘I would love nothing more than to court you’ she smiles brightly, the same bright smile she gave you eight years ago when she introduced herself to you. She was still that kind and patient person you meet many years ago, she was the same person you fell in love with.

Your stomach immediately began doing backflips, it felt like butterflies were fluttering inside you. The thought of Tsireya courting you made your heart swell to an unreasonable amount, ‘I would love for you to court me, nothing would make me happier Tsireya’

Tsireya's tail began to swing excitedly behind her, she was filled with bliss that you agreed. As you noticed the movement of her tail it made you let out a small laugh. The same laugh that Tsireya missed, the laugh that could brighten up her day no matter the circumstances.

‘Can you put the necklace on me?’

‘Of course, I can’

As you lifted your hair Tsireya placed the necklace around your neck with ease. You rubbed your fingertips against the smooth shell and all you could do is smile. You couldn’t believe Tsireya just asked to court you, everything happened so fast but everything felt so right. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

As Tsireya stood in front of you her oceanic eyes were staring at you in awe, she couldn’t believe that she had someone as beautiful as you. She felt like the luckiest Na’vi on Pandora to have you.

To her, you were one in a million.

Tsireya gracefully moved her hands up to your face, gently caressing your cheek. Your breathing began to increase slightly, you were in anticipation about what was going to occur next.

Tsireya pulls you into her, pressing her lips gently on yours. As your lips collided you felt a warmth fill your chest.

The kiss was soft yet fiery.

You could almost taste Tsireya’s desire for you on her lips, it made you feel amazing that you could make her this happy and that she felt loved by you.

When you and Tsireya finally broke the kiss you felt the need to gasp for air, you felt breathless yet you loved every second of what just occurred.

As you looked at Tsireya her cheeks were painted bright red, you could tell she loved the kiss just as much as you, ‘I see you y/n, I’ll forever see you’

‘I see you, my heart will forever belong to you’

I hope you enjoyed💗!

Previous fic

Like, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated💗!

A/N - I’ve been wanting to write a fic like this for a while and @ghoul-bonez convinced me to finally do it! Check out her story ‘I love you, I see you, I trust you’ (Ao’nung x Fem! Deaf! Sully! Reader)

- Also let me know how y’all feel about this type of story because I have more character x deaf!reader ideas

Taglist: @number1gal @liyahsocorro @iwantjaketosullyme @fanboyluvr @kapyzkms @ladespedidas @navegaluv @teyamsbitch @haileymsstuff @onlyloaksgf @kierys-blog @myh3artttt @julyytsireya @gamerxpfighter @h3l3na-pandora @skyv-n @potatoknishesofficial69 @downbadforloak @yetanotherattemptatanaccount @yeosxxx @bakugouswaif @hc-geralt-23 @iluvpandorawomen @myheartfollower

©️inlovewithpandora ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

#❖ — 🌳: 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻.! #tsireya x deaf!reader #avatar x deaf!reader #avatar james cameron #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #atwow #atwow tsireya #atwow x y/n #atwow x you #atwow fluff #tsireya avatar #tsireya x fem!reader #tsireya x reader #tsireya x y/n #tsireya fanfic #tsireya #tsireya x metkayina!reader #tsireya x you #tsireya fluff #atwow x reader #atwow imagines #atwow fanfic #atwow fics #avatar tsireya #avatar fanfic #avatar fluff #avatar loak

[rosewaterandivy]

c'mon barbie, let's go party

summary: steve harrington learns to embrace his kenergy with a little help from his friends.

a/n: in honor of barbenheimer today, please enjoy steve's newfound kenergy in the kids aren't alright cinematic universe. that being said, you can absolutely read this as a stand alone too! i'm seeing barbie later tonight, so mentions of the plot are vague and culled from the teasers and trailers - any and all mistakes are my own! feel free to yell at me in about this in my ask box et al. i'm at the tattoo shop for the foreseeable future and need some enrichment in my enclosure. Reblogs, feedback, and likes are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

p.s. sneaky peak at eddie and his gf from my upcoming series notes on a scene 👀

steve had it all planned out - made the appointment himself and triple-checked that your schedule was clear for the day. circled it on the communal calendar in the kitchen double-feature: barbenheimer.

the group chat had been made aware and eddie's girlfriend, inexplicably known as princess, had taken it upon herself to buy tickets for the gang, therefore dictating the order in which the films would be seen (film teachers, am i right?). oppenheimer first, which steve would suffer through - historical films were always difficult for him to get through due to the anachronisms, and ending with the pièce de résistance: barbie.

you were swamped with grad school classes (having applied over the spring and started your courses this past summer) and steve wanted to treat you to something nice and relaxing. and a trip to the nail salon would have been just the thing, if not for eddie & princess crashing it.

luckily, you didn't seem to mind and were happily ensconced in your chair waiting on your nail tech. you'd brought your own color, because you're picky like that, and let steve, and then eddie and his girlfriend (out of necessity), sort through your collection too.

he'd settled on something called a midsummer's dream from that one brand you liked (there seemed to be a package from them every few weeks or so), thinking it would compliment your choice of arcade monster quite nicely; a little sweet and a little sour.

"manicure and pedicure?" the woman at the front desk had asked. steve clarified that the mani/pedi would be for the ladies, while eddie and himself would just get the pedicures. though the chipped black polish on ed's nails was becoming unsightly.

but despite doing so, steve somehow found himself moved from the pedi bath over to a nail table and seated right next to you. you looked up from your reading (Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall, steve's suggestion) and quirked a brow. "whatcha doin'?"

"sitting here, i guess."

you smirk, "sure thing, babe," and go back to your book.

so when a well-meaning woman grabs his hand and places it in a bowl of water while asking about his color choice, he doesn't know how to respond. he could've sworn he just said a pedicure for him and eds, but when he looks down the row and finds eddie in rapt conversation with his nail tech about god knows what as she removes his chipped black polish, he's no longer quite as sure.

"psst."

he looks over to you, seeing an ill-attempt to repress your laughter. "you don't have to get a polish if you don't want to." and it's sweet, you're sweet for thinking of him and his comfort when this was supposed to be all about you and yours.

steve shrugs, "might as well at this point," and hands her the bottle of pinky-blue iridescent polish.

you tuck your chin toward your chest with a grin, teeth flashing bright against the pink of your lips. "a very nice use of kenergy, steve. gosling would be proud."

💅💅💅

your nails flash green-gold in the sun, a nice contrast against the magenta base polish. you’re sipping from a s’mores milkshake from the ice cream parlor after the nail appointment, eddie having spied it a few stores down.

("it's too hot to argue, harrington," eddie groused, but not before grabbing steve's hands to examine his manicure. "dude, that color is sick on you!")

“s’nice color honey,” steve says, pausing to drink from the milkshake when you passed it over to him. the cool blend of chocolate and marshmallows with graham cracker chunks hits his tongue as you send a deilvish wink his way.

“thanks baby,” your tongue glides against the full of your bottom lip, collecting a bit of chocolate. checking to see that eddie and princess are out of earshot, you pull him in by the belt loops.

“think they’ll look as nice wrapped around your cock later?” you rasp, voice dropping to a low whisper.

steve shudders at the husky sound of your voice and nearly chokes on the milkshake in response, flustered and blushing. your laughter rings out in the afternoon heat, as bright as the sun shining above.

you kiss him for good measure, lips cool and sweet, before catching up to eddie and his girlfriend a few paces ahead. and all steve can do is watch after you, struck dumb by his girl with her quick tongue and wicked words.

he gets it later that evening seeing barbie when they say: “she’s barbie, and he’s just ken.”

you did not tell a lie when you said to princess all those months ago, that ken would end up being steve’s ‘literally me’ character. truthfully, he’s just glad to end up with his dreamgirl.

and yeah, your nails looked just as pretty later that night. as did his when you fell apart on his fingers. a flash of blue in the dim light when his hands dug into the soft flesh of your hips— you coming with a ragged cry on his cock, face buried against the pillows of your bed.

steve may be “just ken” but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. not when he’s got a barbie like you.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the kids aren’t alright rosewaterandivy #steve harrington smut

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Pub Crawl {2}

Oneshot Summary; The handsome stranger isn’t much of a stranger anymore as you get to know him. John Price, is his name, Captain John Price. In fact, the gentleman of a soldier makes you much less calm than what their night out was attempted to be and as the night goes on you realise that maybe the feeling is mutual.

Pairing: John Price x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 2/3

Word; 15k

Warnings; nothing major, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: *Dropping my 15k flirting Price fic and runs*

 MAIN MASTERLIST

Pair. Three of a kind. Full house. They played often, you understood. Cards dealt, a flick of the corner, bets placed.

Johnny seemingly sobered up his ecstatic personality once the games began. No less favouring running his mouth, but less expressive. Eyebrows, for the time being, are set as if carved into stone. A new glint -a competitive one- gleamed like well-polished medals in his eyes. But those sparks also spawned his tell-tale cues.

Ghost had an unfair advantage in your eyes. Those sole expressions previously visible through his eyes swept away as if he put another coverage over his face. An invisible but nonetheless detectable one. But what you evidently lacked in piecing his character together -those blank niches yet to be fleshed out- the other men around the table knew, taking advantage of it as well. Hence, you commenced eyeing the others rather than Ghost to catch his tells.

Kyle kept a constant easy smile in the corner of his lip. His previous persona not having changed much since he brought out the deck of cards. But with contrasts so slight, what you guessed would be signs of... not anxiety, but whatever emotion worked itself through his body in other high-attentive situations wormed itself into his game as well. Attention honed in on the deck, sharp eyes following the card being pulled, flipped and placed amongst the rest. A quick dart of eyes up and down the row. An additional check of his cards.

John... John was good. You noted it quickly. He was expressive but not revealing. A quick pull in the corner of his eyebrow gave you the impression he'd gotten an intriguing set on his hands. With the bet set, no 7am drills for a week, along with the seemingly amused cock of his head when Johnny countered, I'll be washin' for double the time, another card flipped to the community and his action of upping his stake to three weeks, you'd been sure he'd gotten himself a winner. He had won. But not impressively, at least not when he flipped his two cards. A pair of fours, no match amongst the community cards. You'd watched him play closely after that.

Marissa, understandingly more acquainted with their group than you, play against them well. Betting with free drinks and whatnot, occasionally winning thanks to her familiarity with watching them, you suppose. Nor does she react when new names start slipping into the air. Shut it, Soap. Come on, L.T. You can do better than that, Gaz. Nicknames, military ones, they nearly favour using more, you realise. That's why they sound so natural coming from their tongues but never leave Marissa's.

You started suspecting that getting introduced to their real names, apart from Ghost's, was merely first-encounter manners.

It would probably have remained that way if you stayed a stranger.

"Already, Cap'n?" You're brought back from your thoughts as Johnny utters the question, not in the slightest accompanied by the dissatisfaction as a complaint should, but rather the glee of unbelieving bafflement.

Eyes landing on the table, you notice what had caused the Scot's outburst. John had thrown his cards into the discarded pile, signalling he was out. One of the rare occurrences seeing it was only the first round.

But the man at your side only shrugged, and those around the table didn't press too hard on the fact. Bigger chance of them taking home the round when he wasn't in the contest.

However, what you hadn't expected as your eyes continued to follow those still playing, was John shifting closer, clearly showing he redirects his attention to you as he leans on the armrest just beside your own, slouching back somewhat in his seat to not invade your space all too much.

"Ain't too rowdy of a crowd for you, are we?" Your head is pulled towards him first, eyes following a moment after as you watch the second community card be flipped. King of Spades.

Just as your eyes lock, Johnny, with perfect timing, exclaims something triumphantly in incomprehensible Scottish. Your smile brought on by the action is directed towards John, a similar one reflected on his face, along with the tip of his head, expressing a silent 'as I said'.

"Don't underestimate my time spent in companies like these", you reply. The corner of your lip tugs upwards as you lean backwards, the skin over your shoulder blades moulding to the imprint of the backrest until you can feel its slight poke into the bone.

He quirks his brows, head tilting as he dips his head closer. "Do tell?" Curiosity laces John's low-spoken voice, the same interest shining in his blue eyes.

"I-", you start, hesitating to continue. Glancing at the others to see how invested they were in your conversation versus their game. When finding Johnny in an argument with Ghost, and none of the others even batting an eye in your direction to miss their altercation, you turned fully to John, shifting in the seat until feeling the subtle poke of the armrest into your ribcage instead of back. "I've done a few basic military courses through the private sector. Ain't much, but I've done the basic".

"Few basics, eh?" He shifts his foot to lean on the table's leg. The thigh closest to you falls outwards slightly, widening his seated position, accidentally brushing against yours. He moves it away to still have his body directed towards you but not touch it. "Have a feeling there's some advanced there too?"

Your eyes widen, lips parting, a question of how he could've known -because despite being worded as a question, it was a statement- on the tip of your tongue. But before you can ask, John continues, seemingly knowing where your train of thought went.

"In this line of work, you know a fair share about the private as much as the public sector. Those workin’ in private industry are probably familiar faces". You can't help but smile at that. Indeed, your instructors had mentioned their time of enlistment more than once.

Tipping his head, John encourages you to tell him more about what he'd mentioned.

Without hesitating, you did. "Had an instructor who'd worked in intelligence, interrogations more specifically, so I approached him about it. Besides curiosity, I don't know what he saw. But he offered to give me lessons, said he had some connections still in service, contacted them, and some were gracious enough to teach me some things".

"Fuckin' hell", he huffs in surprise, arms crossing over his chest. "Thought I recognised it". It sounded more like he said it to himself, but his eyes never left yours.

"Recognised what?"

"Those eyes, all of you interrogators share them". He leaned closer to you as he said it, one of his hands sneaking from his crossed arms to amusedly gesture towards you, yet the look in his eyes was soft.

"We do not!" You didn't realise you spoke louder. Nor that the round had ended. Therefore, the groups' attention fell on you at your protest.

"What the two of ya talkin' about then?"

Your eyes briefly found Johnny's before skating back to John, who, this time, seemed to be in no hurry at all to answer the Scot. Instead, the amusedly raised brows along the tug in his lips were directed at you as he remained in his position.

Realising he left it all for you to tell them, you sighed. No need to fight it. With the intrigued look reflected in Johnny's eyes, you instinctively knew it wouldn't be possible to brush it off. "Just told John about some training I've done-"

"Come one, love, seemingly ain't no secret if you told me". You sent him a look, annoyed he'd caught how you'd attempted to, not even smoothen over but exclude what kind of training.

You weren't ashamed of it, far from it, in fact. However, you felt yourself shrink into your chair somewhat at the thought of telling the men watching you with intrigued eyes at John's words. They were soldiers. Working, breathing soldiers, for goodness sake. Even if you didn't believe they would laugh in your face when telling them, it felt so... petty compared to whatever they must do, not something that should earn this much attention from them, out of all people.

And yet, it was John's soft nod, one you don't know whether it was even consciously done, that calmed your mind. He hadn't laughed, perhaps in surprise but not to mock you. He'd seemed slightly... impressed.

"Alright", you directed at him, to which he cocked his head, easy smile still slightly hidden by his moustache, then turned towards the rest of the company. "I just mentioned how I've dabbled in the military".

As suspected, they reacted. But not in the way concern had made it play out in your head.

Ever the expressionist, Johnny's lips parted, his complexion drawing together in reflection as if wondering if he'd heard right. At the momentarily distant look entering his eyes, brows knitting together forming harsh lines on his forehead, you assumed he recalled your sentence. But once the Scot realised he didn't imagine the statement, the morph was swift as his complexion settled in astonishment, mouth opening and closing.

Even Ghost revealed more than what you'd gotten used to during the evening, enough for you to paint a picture in your mind of his reaction. It was impossible to catch the whole expression behind his balaclava. Still, despite the blank facade that those hidden features formed for you, the slight widening of his eyes suggested his eyebrows rose and remained pinned higher than their natural place on his browbone intended they should. The tick of his head, just a twitch to the side as his eyes skated over you, assessing, before settling on your features with a narrow, suggesting he verged between not believing and awe of, perhaps, fooling him.

However, Kyle was the sole one whose immediate reaction was to voice his surprise. "Pardon?" His question worked wonders to finally set off the perplexed Scot and make him spit out the words he'd chewed for since you told them.

"Ya mean, what in the steamin' hell did ya just tell us?"

"As unbelievable as me having worked behind the counter?" You offered the wide-eyed man in a chuckle, finding amusement rather than timidness growing in your chest at his actions, to which he jerked his head as if asked the stupidest question.

"More so!"

You exchanged a look with Marissa, who sat relaxed in her chair, knowing very well of this fact. 

It had emerged during one of your late shifts, you'd mentioned it in passing, and she'd physically stopped when she heard it. She'd more or less forced you out on a relaxing night, 'of course, it will include drinks', as she'd probed for every last detail with wide and amazed eyes. Never would've believed that of you, she'd laughed in near disbelief, ‘at least I know you'll be able to hold your own behind the counter’.

Johnny picked up your silent exchange, a look from you conveying that this was as bad as when she'd gotten to know and the slight tip of her head 'sue them' in reply, and turned to her. "Ya knew about this?"

"As much as I know about you lot", she flashed him a grin. "If not more, to be honest, yapped about it for weeks", she snickered.

"Oh shush", you feigned ignorance -sure, you'd talked to her about the further training you'd done in intelligence, but only because she'd asked- yet, the blue eyes of the Scotsman jumped back to you.

"Ain't none of that, bonnie, didn't know ya were one of us!"

"Nor am I". You pointed out, underlining it with a finger directed Johnny's way. "Learned a few things through the private sector, never listed. So I never did the official stuff, simply something attempting to emulate it".

"Why?" Ghost's low voice questioned. His dark eyes steadfastly focused on you. You found yourself opening and closing your mouth. Why indeed? You hadn't known what fucking else to do with your life.

"Was curious about the paths I could take", you shrugged. "Realised it wasn't really for me in the long run, but learned an interesting thing or two".

Ghost let out a breath, not a scoff nor a laugh, just a drawn-out gust of air. "Good choice". His words caused your brows to raise, but you didn't press. If anyone knew what they were talking about it, it would be the men around you.

"So what ya learned then?" Johnny leaned forwards on the table, earning your attention.

"Well, I had a standard boot camp, learning the basics of physical training, firearm and close combat".

"Not bad", Kyle nodded, lips pursed. "Didn't think you would've been thought firearms here though, over in the State's maybe...". He trailed off with a shrug as his brows rose and fell.

"As the Captain said-", you nodded towards John, not catching the way his head turned to you as he straightened in his seat somewhat while the others raised their eyebrows or cocked their heads. "-most, if not every instructor, was past military members. So special licenses for firearm exercise wasn't too difficult to get, I suppose".

There was a slight pause as they watched you until Ghost spoke up. "How strict were they?"

"If you mean wheater I had to withstand them screaming at me with no care for personal space and calling them by rank or else, I'll run till my face was in the mud, then strict is the answer to both".

"Explains it", John mumbled under his breath. You spared him a glance, and he tipped his head as he unwinded his arms, letting each rest on their corresponding armrest. His fingers tapped the wood, and when it was apparent that you didn't understand his comment, he offered you a gentle smile as he explained. "Not usual for civilians to call us by rank".

"Oh", god, you felt stupid. "Sorry, sometimes it just happens, I guess". You cringed, frowning, disturbed by having fallen into old habits while delving into the subject. And yet, it hadn't felt unnatural calling John by his rank. It fit him. "Even though I don't meet many army affiliates anymore".

Compared to the first time his rank had fallen from your lips, he didn't regard you with that veiled expression. This time, it was something else, mirth intertwined in the lighter specks of blue in his eyes, whereas something... darker infected the aegean shadowing of his hues.

You don't know whether John got reminded of what branch you'd explored as your eyes remained locked with his, attempting to decipher whatever you couldn't in his gaze. But, as if remembering you hadn't indulged the rest with the fact, he spoke. "You haven't told them about the most interestin’ part".  

This time you didn't fight him on indulging the rest. Instead, you turned back to face the rest. "Right, I specialised in intelligence at the end as well".

"Ha, yer the same as the big guy!" Johnny turned to Ghost before his eyes shifted back to you. "Ain't no way I would've guessed that one".

"Infiltration, Johnny, not intelligence", the man corrected him. "I use what they give me". Ghost nodded towards you. You didn't feel like correcting him, more so you knew you didn't need to.

"I 'now ya prick", the Scotsman scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "But ya bloody work with information collection as well, if I'm not wron', standin' there as a feckin' reaper durin' inquests".

You chuckled. "Can't say I got that advantage". Those dark eyes shifted to you, and Ghost didn't need to say anything for you to understand what he thought, the entertained expression in his eyes stating a firm but amused ‘no, you don't’.

"Well, let's see how much you learned, then", Kyle smiled, expertly shuffling the cards before he started dealing them, a card landing before you even before you'd managed to answer the question. "Ain't no backing out now", he smirked, continuing to deal out the cards to everyone around the table.

...

You played well, though you thought it was more so because of you being used to the game than being able to read them. Your collection of their tells during the initial rounds helped, yet it wasn't the sole reason you managed to beat them. Luck played a big part. But that, you wouldn't tell, not when noticing the rile you got on one person in the group.

"Come on then, Johnny, what's your move". You hummed, leaning forwards so your elbows and crossed forearms rest on the table, observing the Scot across from you. His eyes intensely honed in on the fourth community card that just had been pulled.

When his eyes switched to watch you, you promptly saw it. Not the card he'd hoped for. Cocking a brow, you offered him a smile.

"Feck", Johnny grumbled. Sore looser. He grabbed his cards and threw them into the discarded pile, mindful not to let them accidentally flip. "I fold". Joining Marissa and Kyle.

Your eyes flickered to Ghost, awaiting his action. Without delay, he delivered it. "Call".

"Call", John's voice sounded in succession, your own falling suit, causing Marissa to flip the fifth and final community card.

Ten of hearts.

Not a bad card, but since the initial two community cards had been revealed, you'd been set for this round. You rapped your finger against your elbow. Compared to Ghost, who thumbed the edge of his card, you recited your hand in your head. Aces, red and black, heart and spade.

Your eyes were set on the tall man, observing the glimpse down at his cards, the move a quick flick of his eyes before his index and middle fingertips pressed the edges flat against the table as his gaze rose.

Ghost's auburn eyes locked with yours, dead straight, staring back. He'd felt your attention on him, no doubt, yet you didn't retaliate once you had his in return. Instead, you cocked your head just the right amount to not let it rest against your shoulder, practised smile stretching your lips.

"It's your turn, Ghost, in case you forgot". You know he hadn't. But, you also knew that he weighed his options at the moment, cost and benefit, what play was synonymous with what. Ghost's considerations depended on you, what your game was, deceit or honesty. And he knew, much like John had pointed out, how you, those interrogators, worked; it was never either or but a balance of both. The question is what direction the scale tipped towards the most.

"You're good", was all he said, throwing his cards into the growing pile of discarded cards, signalling his fold. Your smile could've grown, showing your satisfaction in how your mask had been better than the faceless man's. But, instead, you kept the same expression as you turned to glance over your shoulder, elbows still planted on the tabletop.

"John?" His attention was already on you. No need to call for it. And yet, you like to see him work, strip your utterance of his name and the redirect of attention on him bare. Attempting to spread the layers until he could read between the lines, much like Ghost. 

Unlike his working comrade, however, he doesn't move. Instead, he remains lounging, two fingers resting on the table edge, his left hand on his thigh. And yet, when John doesn't shy from your eyes, you find the opposite of his stoicism.

His eyes seem alive, an entity on their own apart from his being. And yet, you can't discern the story they're showing you.

"Call. Your move". It's like a breeze over your back, like a phantom finger trailing your spine. You pray the shiver doesn't leave goosebumps in its wake.

You take a moment, a last one, to observe him and what dances in those eyes.

Around the blackened void charrs a blue flame seemingly devouring the air, sucking it from deep in your lungs. It doesn't leave you breathless, but it damn well delays your contemplated words, your final play. Instead of rolling from your tongue, they get stuck on repeat in your mind, a manuscript yet to be followed but halted at the knot forming in your larynx.

"Call". The word isn't clipped nor abrupt. Yet, at the perimeters of your spoken choice of play are frayed edges, the consequences of those fires dancing over your features, those you decided not to avoid despite their blaze.

John flashes a smile, probably satisfied with your choice of not folding and letting the game reach its rightful end. "Show me 'em cards".

You do as told, nails catching the edge of your cards and, with a flick of your wrist and right arm settling on the armrest, you open up your upper body by turning it towards him, confident in your four-of-a-kind. Aces, nonetheless.

When those blues flicker down, inspecting your hand placed face-up on the table and having earned several impressed hums and whistles, you dare cock your brows in conviction. Beckoning John to mimic your move and show his lesser hand. However, you witness a swift, minimal quirk of his eyebrows. And, when his eyes seek yours, features morphing to copy your facial expression, you know.

You don't need to look at his cards when he leans forward to flip them, just shy of propping his arms and upper-body weight on the table in contrast to the actual move of a forward shift in his seat. Regardless of the amused flash in his eyes, the quirk in the corner of his lips telling you he’d won, you follow the curses uttered by those around the table as their eyes find the hand his cards, paired with the community ones, created.

A flush, hearts, one that would've been royal if the ace wasn't in your possession.

"Next time, love". John pats your clothed knee as his hand slips down the table top while leaning back again.

"Battle of wits, indeed".

"I'll go prepare the drinks then".

Johnny's voice, subsequently Marissa's, is distant. Your eyes are stuck on the cards flashing red and white, but you don't mourn your loss, all attention on the warmth that seeps through your skirt at his touch.

John's hand momentarily settles at the last tap before he retracts it and drops it on his thigh once more, his fingers tapping a joyful celebration against the muscle.

And yet, the phantom touch, the memory of his heavy and warm paw engulfing your kneecap without needing to try, remains. It unfurls an ecstatic quiver in your chest.

"I'll go see if Marissa needs help". You flash a quick smile, trying not to rush like your heart does in your chest when moving out of your chair.

As soon as your back is turned to the group, feet moving you forward on their own command, you momentarily close your eyes, taking a deep breath. This feeling wasn't new. But hell, it had been long enough since you felt it that you hadn't noticed it since the start. The way your gaze wanted to travel to John. How he kept your attention and his presence in your immediacy never felt odd despite meeting him less than an hour ago. Fucking hell, women, calm yourself...

Your eyelids fluttered open, gaze settling on Marissa a few paces ahead. The breath you held -which hadn't done much to lessen your rapid heartbeat- was released in a last attempt to shake off, or at least tame, the feeling John had awoken. Without success.

As though your eyes now glued to her back worked as a call of her name, your friend's brown eyes flickered over her shoulder with the slight turn of her head. Perhaps she'd thought it was a particular Scot rather than you because her brows raised. Nonetheless, she let you catch up with her as she slowed a fraction.

"Don't", you warn Marissa when her lips part, possibly to ask about why you were here and not at the table. Knowing very well you could always pay later in the evening for the drinks you'd bet and lost.

At your clipped word, she instantly smirked. Yet, she didn't say anything, at least not until you'd put some distance to the men still seated at the table as you rounded the bar. You know something's coming when she leans on it, cocking her hip and not reaching for anything needed for the drinks instantly.

"So, how are you finding them?" The questions seem innocent enough that you can't help but smile and chuckle. A minimal shake of your head accompanied the released breath of nerves mimicking the feeling of jumper cables hooked to a car, a stream of high voltage sent straight through your nervous system.

"Pleasent, quite the characters but nonetheless pleasant". Marissa hums in agreement at your answer.

"Despite their habit of arriving at times when not many others are here, they're hard not to notice". You quirk a brow as she moves to bring a liquor bottle from the wall. Standing still when part of her still was in working mode was never her strong suit.

"Don't think you complain, though", you mused. The nerves in your body slowly reduced at the lack of John's immediate presence and attention on you. Marissa's eyes find yours over her shoulder, and you cock your head, attempting to smoothen down your amused smile as you continue. "Starting to believe Johnny ain't the headache you'd made him out to be".

"Oh, a headache he is", she retorted. But, your grin turned victorious as she turned away again, not succeeding in hiding her smile before it was visible to you nor continuing her sentence before you pointed it out.

"I saw that". With your muted laugh, a finger was waved in Marissa's general direction.

"Pushing it in my face, ain't you?" She faced you as you stepped closer to help her carry some of the bottles needed for the Scot's mixture, a quirk between her brows present. You sent her a mocking kiss, one she rolled her eyes at, yet couldn't help the tug in the corner of her mouth at your antics as she turned with the bottle she'd fetched.

Following suit, you brought the ones you'd grabbed before joining her at the metal countertop, where she'd put forth a glass for Johnny's drink.

At the thought of his name, you glanced towards the company at the table. 

The deck of cards was put away, and they sat talking, laughing. Instinctively your eyes sought John, you couldn't hear his sound of amusement, but you could see it. Whatever Kyle had said made him shake his head before tipping it forward, his shoulders jumping. Something warmed in you at the scene, a softer glowing sensation, different from when he'd sat so close to you.

"You and a certain someone seem to get along, though".

"Hm?" Your eyes travelled from John back to Marissa, whose eyes had made the same journey as yours, though her's seemingly only had been a quick shift back and forth. Nonetheless, one with enough time for an inquisitory look to bleed into them. "Uh yeah, I guess he's nice", you shrugged, attempting to bat away the feelings returning in your chest at the swift glance and redirection of the conversation towards John.

Marissa, however, only rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of- missy, that's not what I meant", she said, grabbing the tequila bottle and pointing the muzzle at you before beginning to pour the amounts needed for the drink. "I see the way you both don't and do look at him, don't believe that boy you met got even half as much of your attention when he practically was begging for it while dear John simply has to be present".

"Marissa-".

"Oh no, don't deny it". Your friend put down the bottle, grabbing the first mixture you'd brought with you. "I know a bloody skittish escape when I see one, probably threw my name in as an excuse as well", she referred to when you'd left their company previously and joined her instead.

You jerked a hand upwards, mindful to not make the action too big for the men to catch. "Yeah, because when you'd left me alone with them previously, it's gone just wonderful". Despite being nothing more than a memory now -initial awkward instances of getting to know new people brushed to the past- you couldn't deny as soon as Marissa left your hypothetical side, things hadn't... not gone awful, but not as good as you could've hoped.

"You're getting along just fine with them. It's a certain someone you seemingly worry being around by yourself".

"Stop waffling", you huffed at the last part of her sentence.

"What? You seem to get along more than fine with John, you two in your little bubble".

"We don't have no bubble", you scoffed. "And he certainly doesn't feel like I bloody do".

"And what is that?"

"Fine, I'll admit, he looks good".

She doesn't stop blending the drink more than to throw you a quick glance, a smirk adorning her lips. "Oh, I know your taste in men, and so, I know he looks more than just good". You quickly move your elbow, jabbing her in the side. Sadly, the action only brought a huffed chuckle from her as she managed to not spill a drop of liquid. Lucky she'd put down the bottle and reached for the next. "But that's not what I wanted to know".

"Jesus, okay, what do you want me to say so you'll focus on pouring the drink?" You feel jittery at the subject, so in an attempt to occupy your fingers rapping against the not-so-cold anymore metal counter beneath your hand, you move to fetch a pint glass to start pouring Kyle's beer.

"That you admit you don't only think he's nice on the eye, but you're attracted to him". You swallow, your throat dry.

"I-I... yeah". The confession isn't grand, nor does it come with a feeling of lessening the sensation in your chest. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" You mumbled under your breath, eyes flickering towards Marissa. She's put down the bottle she previously kept elevated, both hands now resting on the counter, head turned towards you, eyes fixated on how you rotate the glass in your hand before flickering up to meet your gaze.

"I never think I've seen you this flustered about someone, missy", she comments. "What about the man got you acting like this?"

"Fuck, how would I know?" You can't help the laugh of disbelief. Marissa was right. You didn't usually act like this. Like you'd said to Johnny, working behind a bar had steeled your nerves from copious things, especially when befriending the dark-haired woman standing beside you on top of it. "I don't know how to even begin describing it", you sighed, frustration polluting the exhale.

A pinch of her brows, brief as though not meant to move her eyebrows before she cocked her head. "Try".

Concerning you'd given up on trying to evade the topic at this point, you did as she said without much fuss. "I just kinda... it feels like I'm drawn to him. It doesn't feel like anything special in that regard, but it ain't just a normal feeling, you know?"

"You're overthinking it". Marissa turned her body to you, hip against the counter, arms crossed. "Yes, you're a problem solver. You like to analyse things. Ain't for nothing you find a bloody military course in interrogation fascinating, barely any mans that do. But that puts you at risk of overanalysing, which you're doing right now. This-" she motioned to you and with a nod that passed over anyone's head aside yours that caught her eyes travelling to who you only guessed could be John. "-isn't something that needs to be solved. So go with it, see where it ends up".

"I hate when you offer solid advice, you know?"

"You mean when I've solved the problem before you know how to solve it yourself". Your eyes drop, finding your barely visible reflection in the beer glass, huffing at Marissa's reply.

"Yeah, especially fucking then".

"That's what friends are for", she hummed, and you heard her finish the drink she'd spent remarkably more time on than necessary. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"About what?" Your head tilted in her direction.

"About the glass you've been holding like a fool for the past minutes", she deadpanned. Although knowing she wasn't serious, you stopped fiddling with it, instead stepping towards the drafting station. "About Price, of course".

"For all I know, he can just behave like a gentleman compared to most". She rolled her eyes at that.

"Can't believe you're sticking with believing that. He's more than a decent man, I agree, but so is the rest of the lot, and they ain't acting the way he does".

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"He's bloody interested in you, probably feels the same attraction you do".

Your head turned to her, eyes wide as if it would emphasise your slow-spoken words. "He doesn't".

"For someone as bright as you, it certainly is fucking unbelievable how blind you can be", she muttered, causing your bows to furrow.

"What now?"

"I've seen the little bubble the two of you enter when you talk, the guys probably have noticed too, though Johnny is the one whose mentioned it", she hummed. "Pointed it out whilst the two of you chatted during the game, even referring to some conversation of yours' from before that". She sent you a look, continuing by poorly mimicking the Scot's voice. "Never seen Price like that. He's so... easy with her, sure as shiet ain't as close-lipped as Ghost, but he doesn't partake leisurely in and especially doesn't initiate conversations with someone new. Normally likes to keep to himself. Starting to believe the old fecker got heart-eyes".

You hoped how you accidentally set down the glass you had just been about to raise a bit too harshly was enough cover for the shrill-sounding noise escaping your throat. 

You don't look at Marissa instantly. Instead, you keep your head bowed slightly, wide eyes staring at the wet remnants of froth from previously poured drinks in the drain beneath the draft. Attempting to steady your heart that had made an unhealthy leap at the words allegedly expressed by Johnny and passed on by your friend.

Loosening the grip on the pint glass, you force down your shoulders as you raise it and your free hand to the lever, slowly tapping the beer.

You send her a quick glance at the instance you do. "Keep your voice down".

"It's already low", she smirks at you.

"Well, then keep quiet altogether".

"Why for?" The smugness in her voice made your molars grind together, eyes flitting to the steady flow before you.

"To not attract attention from the ridiculously handsome man sitting not far away", you noted how she shifted in your peripheral.

"You mean the ridiculously handsome man who hasn't been able to stop throwing looks towards you for the past, like, five minutes? Yeah, you don't need me for that attention".

Don't look. And yet, you couldn't help how your eyes, as if drawn to John like magnets, sought him out. And, of course, your gazes lock the second you find him.

Although half a room away, his gaze felt heavy. The spotlights in the roof made light dance across his features, causing parts of his hair and beard to verge on golden bronze while others dimmed into a brown saber. Handsome, incredibly so, in an old-fashioned sense.

You didn't notice how your tongue peaked out to wet your lips, the act as unconscious as the reason for it, yet you became aware of it when John's eyes dropped from yours. You couldn't physically see where his eyes fell nor feel them in whatever place he looked. Not as when you could feel how your gazes lock despite the distance separating you. But, it made your thoughts rewind, bringing forth what you'd done to the front of your cognisance.

A flush spread through your body, and you didn't wait for his eyes to find yours before dropping your gaze. 

Despite redirecting your attention to the glass in your hand and setting down a satisfyingly filled pint, in the upper corner of your vision, you noted how a conversation immediately swept over the table. Whoever initiated the exchange earned John's attention as you felt his eyes leave you altogether.

"You're a menace, you know", you mumbled beneath your breath as you glanced at Marissa, knowing you would regret it the moment you did but unable to anyway. Flashed a grin, one as victorious as yours during the initial phase of your conversation, you were proven right. "Glad I quit this job", you huffed, setting down the beer you'd drafted beside the drink she'd mixed for Johnny.

"Don't say things like that", she returned, her attention flickering away from you. "Especially not when it seems you're gonna have to battle your fears and put those skills I taught you to use, someone apparently having spoken some sense into the old man". The last part of her sentence was mumbled under her breath, yet you caught it, brows knitting together. "He's coming this way", she clarified once her eyes landed on you. This time, you didn't give her the thought of doubt.

"Don't you leave", you warned, but she'd already stepped out of your reach, sending a wink as she brought the guy's pick of poison with her, one in each hand. "Traitor", your hiss was barely audible under your breath, instinctively silenced as you had no choice but to turn towards John as Marissa left the two of you to your own with a nod in his direction, one he answered with a slight smile.

You follow John as he steps up to the barstool, registering the height you'd suspected kept his broad frame -one that narrowed nearer to his hips- upright as he moved with a slight sway to his body from his strides. You realised that he carries himself with tactical ease, one he must have learnt to get comfortable with on the field so much that it stuck to every other situation.

As he settled atop the stool, finding a comfortable position with a slight lean forward of his body whilst his arm rested atop the wooden countertop, your eyes stopped jumping over him to settle on his face.

"So, what can I get for you, patron?" You put on a charade, brushing up precisely those skills Marissa had taught you. Still, you're unable to stare into those pretty blues that this close shine like the curaçao bottle at the second level of the liquid shelf for too long, fearing your tongue would turn to lead and your heart pound out of your chest.

And yet, you can't help how those butterflies in your stomach taste freedom, yearning, to have him within your close vicinity once more. So, to cage them, you lean forwards to mimic his way of resting his forearms atop the wooden desk separating you. A heavier bend in your waist concerning the metal bar pressed into your hips.

"Drivin’, remember?" He returned, but you found yourself shrugging rather than taken aback and stunted at what to say next. Seemingly easier than you'd thought to fall back into old times when standing on this side of the counter.

"You're sitting at a bar if you remember", you shot back. John's lip twitched upwards. With the subtle action, you felt encouraged enough to continue a conversation you'd had many times but not with someone you cared to maintain the chatter with. "What's your usual under non-driving circumstances?"

"Old-fashioned".

The irony. You hummed, in both amusement from your thought and John's answer, continuing with a nod. "Scotch?"

"Yes". Something sparked in John's eyes as you turned, still partly facing him whilst also able to look at the liquor wall. While one arm stays on the wooden counter, the other accommodates your new stance by being propped against your waist.

Letting your eyes glide over the assortment, they finally settle on one of the finer bottles. "Ardbeg, 19-year-old, something of your taste?" His eyebrows raise in what you could gauge was surprise, to which you only flashed him a smile. "Had a feeling concerning the chasews".

"You're good". John's praise of your knowledge about the correlation between his earlier choice of heavily roasted nuts to the smokey scotch you'd asked him about softened your prideful smile, shifting to bashful rather than the obligatory ones you'd offered in the past to brush away the compliment.

"Have to be when working behind a bar". Your head rolled to rest on your shoulder when you switched to look at him, thanking him for the compliment with the smile he'd brought forth but raised an inquisitory brow shortly after. "So?"

He looked at you for a second before he hummed. "Those bottles often get opened after certain missions, but yes".

You gave him a final nod before pushing away from the counter, gathering the sparse ingredients you needed to piece together the drink you had in mind. Feeling his eyes on you for every step you took.

As you returned to where he sat, your gaze met John's. But, the eye contact was brief, this time his gaze flickering away. Even though it was down to the bottle you held out for inspection, together with an explanation of what would replace the alcoholic liquor of his drink.

"A distillery toying with the idea of percentage-free liquor inspired by scotch, dare to try?" His eyes scanned the label plastered on the bottle in your hands before his eyes found yours, slight creases entering the corner of his eyes, smile prominent on his features despite a lack of bow by his lips.

"Why not", he shrugged. Flashing him a delighted smile, you put down the bottle and began making the drink before him.

You felt his eyes on you -attention that faded to no longer inducing a nervous excitement, instead an avid one, seeking to keep it on you as you busied yourself with something you were skilled on- as you picked up a rocks glass.

Not needing the measurement cup to know how much amaretto versus visionary scotch to fill it with, you grabbed the mixing liquor, free-pouring to the desired amount before switching to the virgin scotch and doing the same.

Considering the simplicity of the beverage -the sparse ingredients coupled with only a square ice cube and a swirled orange peel to be added- there wasn't really any need to taste it. But old habits die hard, and before you even noted your move whilst reaching for the ice, you swirled the liquids around with a straw, tasting it with practised ease as you retracted it. Of course, the absence of smokey scotch and its burn could never be neglected, but it was a good drink nonetheless.

"There, a non-alcoholic Godfather". You put the now-finished drink before him with your free hand as you threw the straw in the trash.

John tipped his head in gratitude, eyes falling on the drink presented to him. It was your moment to observe him as his fingers gripped the chilled glass, swirling the drink -something you imagined was out of custom- before he raised it.

As his lips meet the rim, his eyes seek yours. Despite presenting an opportunity -without limitation- to observe his opinion of the drink he sipped, something seeped into those blues that already was your weakness. You couldn't figure out what it was, but it felt intimate, a bubble -to use Marissa's words- closing around the two of you. Those nerves slowly began to buzz again when you didn't have anything to occupy yourself with.

A hum preceded his opinion as he lowered the drink. "It's good". He tipped the glass back and forth before leaning slightly forward, pointer gesturing towards you to the extent it could regarding his grip on the glass. "Better than Marissa's".

"Oh, be careful of saying that beneath her roof". You hid the warmth in your body at John's low-spoken compliment, a rough whisper, with the tease. "She won't accept that the student has become the master".

He chuckles at your banter. "I'll keep it our secret, then".

The smile forming by his comment is instantaneous, a soft stretch of your lips as his words registers. Despite the previous teasing smirk accompanying John's comment, it dissolves into one mirroring your own behind the rim of his glass once more raised closer to his mouth. You can't help but duck your head, the same intensity in his gaze bleeding into your chest.

This man, the thought is followed by a slight shake of your head. You look up through your lashes, not brave enough to reveal your attention, in spite of wanting to or not, tracks back to him by fully tilting your head and facing him. You catch John's eyes flitter over you before he notes your gaze has returned to him, causing his blues to connect with yours.

His head tilts as he lowers his glass, dwarfing it between his hands once it sits on the counter. The quirk in both his brow and the corner of his lips shifts the tension in the air to something airy and lighter. And, like linked to him, your lip quirks.

You sway on the pads of your feet, forwards until your weight is placed on your toes, heels lift from the floor, and then back to reverse the action. The itch in your body makes a restlessness nest, the feeling of standing in the same place for too long joining the sensation John's attention settles in your body. And finally, it makes you break away from his presence, grabbing the bottles and returning to the shelf to place them in their proper place.

A sound akin to the roll of a glass' bottom rim against wood fills the air behind your back, whilst the slight ting of glass-connecting-with-metal sounds in front of you as you set down the bottles you'd brought.

To use Johnny's words, at least allegedly concerning the information originated from Marissa, your conversation with John had been easy. But so most were, even when you'd sat amongst the others. However, this time, something about the silent interaction afterwards felt different.

You don't know what about it settled those butterflies in your stomach, their cage dissolving along their colourful selves, metamorphosed into an intangible pleasantness as you felt his eyes on you.

Perhaps it could be that you didn't worry about paying too much attention to the weather-worn Captain now when it solely was the two of you compared to then when the rest of the company you got introduced to sat around the same table, just an arm-length away. Nonetheless, the previous nervousness accompanying John's presence, his attention on you, now felt comfortable, as if it belonged, and you didn't want it any other way.

That was when he didn't aim to give you a bloody heart attack.

"So, how did a girl like you end up behind a bar like this?" You thanked the heavens that your back was turned and that you just had placed the bottles back on their corresponding shelves once those smooth words left him. Because you wouldn't have been able to stop your brows from shooting up and lips from parting as your stomach lurched upwards once you dropped down from standing on your toes. Well, that wasn't hard to interpret.

"Was that a pick-up line I heard?" You turned, brows now quirked in intrigue as your lips pressed together to smoothen down a grin at the giddiness flowing through your body after the initial surprise.

John tipped his head side to side, eyes flittering down to watch the liquid in his glass before clearing his throat and giving you a shrug. "An attempt at one".

You giggled, the sound foreign to your ears in this setting, yet it brought his eyes back to you as his shoulders dropped somewhat.

"Not the worst one I've gotten", you said, not an unwelcomed one either. You shift your weight onto one leg while crossing one ankle over the other. It naturally makes your body fall against the counter at your lower back, and you bring your hands to rest on the edge for additional support.

"No?" A quick tick of his head along a swift rise and fall of his brows accompanies the question.

You hum, shaking your head. "You wouldn't believe half the stuff we hear behind this desk".

He did something you hadn't anticipated then. John patted the stool beside him as he straightened and leant back a notch. "Let's swap some war stories then because I can think of a few things from only what we soldiers endure".

Go with it. See where it ends up. Marissa's words rang clear in your head and made your legs guide you to reach the offered seat.

As you sit down, John angles his chest towards you, letting his hand bring his glass more to his right rather than straight as when you'd stood on the other side of the bar. It only remains there for a few seconds, though, seeing how he raised it and tipped it towards you as he spoke.

"So, love, tell me how you came to tolerate every man on the spectrum of inebriated".

A chuckle leaves you, hands coming to clutch your elbows already resting on the bar top, head tilting towards John. "Without pulling forth my whole record for scrutinisation-". The man beside you huffed lightly, to which you flashed a swift smile before continuing. "-I can tell you it took some time getting used to and knowing how to respond to men when their tongues get too loose for anyone's good".

"Though I don't dispute the fact-".

"Talking from experience, John?" You cut his sentence off, a ribbing smile accompanying your tease.

His glass stilled where he'd spun it in the air, snicker -something more delicate than his other sounds of amusement- escaping John as his head dipped in a shake. "Can't escape the fact that everyone's been young". His blue eyes find yours again, mirth swirling in them, originating from perhaps a not-so-fond but nonetheless prevailing memory. "Though life's had its way with me like most others".

"Can tell you it's been kind on you. Ain't everyone who turns into a gentleman compared to daft wankers".

John stilled, lips pressing thin as his brows pulled together. 

The expression was new on him, causing you to cock your head, awaiting what seemed to be a response when he rolled his shoulders and straightened. Yet the reply on his tongue was seemingly quelled when he decided to sip his drink. His reaction felt... odd. But you didn't get to ask if he could indulge you in what fleetingly occupied his mind as he picked up the conversation again, seemingly preferring to talk about something else.

"So how come the break-in-time, 'cause you don't look like a newbie?" You caught on quickly that John backtracked to where his previous sentence probably would've ventured if you hadn't interrupted him.

"Had never worked in this kind of setting previously".

His brows quirked. "No? You look like a natural".

"That I have to thank Marissa for, didn't know a thing before moving here and getting the job".

"Ain't from around?"

"Mm, no, neither born nor bred".

"Why did you choose to settle in these ends?"

"Honest?" You straightened your arms, clasping your hands together. "Don't really know, just felt I needed to get a move on, didn't feel like I fit the picture at 'home' anymore, ended up staying longer than I thought". You gave a half-hearted chuckle, eyes locked on your thumbs. Right on top, switch, left on top.

"Care to explain?" You turned to look at John. He'd turned more towards you, his head tilted.

"Not much to explain, frankly. It felt like a search for something, but I don't know what", you shrugged one shoulder.

"Know the feelin', still grapple with it occasionally". Your head cocked, a silent expression of surprise at someone who felt so calm and naturally secure in himself that you hadn't imagined much else applying to other aspects of his life.

You pushed slightly against the bar, swivel chair turning more of your body towards him to physically show the same interest in his words that he'd done yours, and it urged him to continue.

"Our line of work attracts people without sense of direction in life like flies. Couldn't tell how much better judgement I have to knock into some of 'em recruits daily".

"Would've been one of them", you quipped, recalling how his words aligned with your reason for dipping a toe in their element without the compulsory enlistment. John shot you a look, the sharpness of a chide not as present as entertainment.

"But you didn't need it to realise you were meant for somethin' better". John's continuation was swift enough the meaning buried beneath his sentence was swept over in seconds. But, regardless, you caught it. "Despite my years in the field, doubt still trickles through, wondering if any of the sense you enlisted along with still exist".

"Don't think the one promoting you to Captain did it for your lack of sense". Your reply was soft-spoken, genuine, despite the opportunity for jest. And you knew John heard it, saw it when his eyes flickered over your face, a smile reaching his eyes and highlighting the crow's feet in the corners of them. That alluring depth entered his eyes, and something unravelled in your chest, equally as profound and warm.

As though hovering too close to an edge you weren't ready to jump from, one corner of your lip ticked upwards, a small gesture but enough to shift the energy in the air. "Trust me, you could say I'm a good judge of character".

"Are you know?" John mused, raising both brows in a mocking gesture.

"Oh, piss off", you chuckled, the back of your hand lightly swatting his upper arm. 

His smile turned into a grin, not as chaotic and thrilled-puppy as Johnny, more a gradual glow lightening all his features. It was something soothingly warm about the look on him despite the harsh contrast when sparkling eyes peeked from dark lashes and pearly teeth flashed amidst the umber bristles obscuring his lower face.

"If you wanna prove your skill, read 'em". John motions backwards with a nod of his head. For the first time since Marissa left you and the Captain alone, your eyes travel over your shoulder to the company still seated at the table.

Johnny was turned towards Marissa, one arm hooked on the back of her chair, talking animatedly with his other hand. Your friend sat with crossed arms but equally shifted towards the Scot to give him the same attention. By the looks of it, they argued about something. Albeit heatedly, you noted the grin pinning Johnny's lip upwards, and even if mostly seeing your friend's back, you caught how she slouched backwards in her chair, shoulders not pulled high towards her ears.

Though not surprised by the two, what did catch you off-guard was Ghost. Or more so, his smirk. You don't know when it had happened, not more than after you'd left the table, but the baklava was rolled up enough that his neck along lower face was visible, showcasing the stretch of his lips.

It hadn't hit you that Ghost's drink had remained untouched since he took it from the tray. Not until you saw him raise the glass and sip what must've been a drink Marissa know to exclude ice from or else it would taste like watered-down tea.

Before he caught you looking -because there must be a reason he'd decided to show just the slightest part of himself despite wearing a mask in public- you turned to face John again.

"I was taught interrogation techniques, not mind reading", you joked, attempting to deflect what he wanted you to do, but you only received a look from him.

"Can't trust you if you don't show what you go for". John leaned closer as he kept your gaze. "So go on then". For a second time, he jerked his head towards the others.

"Fine". You caught the upward tick of John's lip and intrigued quirk of his brows before you turned in the chair, back resting against the wooden counter.

Despite your attention now being fixed on the ones at the table, you noted how John mimicked your motion to swivel the chair and face the company the two of you previously accompanied.

At first, your gaze merely flickered over them in turn. Johnny. Ghost. Kyle. 

The most challenging task is always reading without intent. Your former instructors' voice echoes in your mind as you grapple with where to start.

"What's my goal?" You looked at John, awaiting his guidance. He rolled his head towards you, blue eyes meeting yours.

"Whatever you can get".

"So descriptive". You rolled your eyes and earned a chuckle. But you did as he said, attempting to present how far you'd gotten on the puzzle their personalities posed as since you first entered.

"Ghost", you declared to steer John's attention to who your intention was set on.

"Starting with the toughest", he mumbled.

You disregarded his comment, knowing that although it was true personality-wise, you had more solid facts about him than the others.

"Johnny has called him L.T., presumably a Lieutenant then", you began. Then, with your gaze flitting over his stature, you observed the man as he engaged, or more so listened, to the conversation Kyle maintained. "A man of few but well-chosen words, rough around the edges, has a sharp tongue, expressive eyes, though I doubt that makes him cover his face." In your peripheral, you noted John tilting his head towards you, making you tear your eyes from Ghost.

"How so?"

You gave him a half-shouldered shrug, meeting those blues. "You boys see shit that no one should, that we civilians agree on despite not knowing what that shit is all the time. So it wouldn't be weird if you wanted to separate yourself from it. For some, it could be on the field. Others, of it." Your eyes trailed back to the tall man, yet to add anything to his conversation aside from an occasional nod. "Though I don't know his reason, I would call it a coping mechanism. One that's hard turning off entirely, and he probably views as an equally big part of himself as whoever is beneath the mask." 

You glanced at John, whose eyes were still set upon Ghost, but he gave an almost absentminded nod. The confirming hum accompanying the action made you think you hit the mark to a certain degree.

"Kyle?" John directed you to Ghost's conversation partner, and your eyes were set forward again, a slight furrow entering the space between your brows as they narrowed.

"Nickname Gaz", you declared the information you'd retrieved from the rounds of poker. "Not as reserved as Ghost, but thanks to Johnny, his knack for social settings appear bleaker". That earned you an amused huff from John. "He's kind and got humour, caught a few of his quips. But, he's also calm-mannered, poised, much like you".

"Hm, good kid, we work a fair share together". You looked at John, his eyes meeting yours a second later with a tilt of his head. "Any guess on rank?" You drew in air through your teeth, making a repeated sound with your tongue, and weighed your head from side to side.

"Could be a Lieutenant, but... he feels younger than Ghost, so I would opt for Seargent without too much knowledge of your ranking systems' correlation to age or serving time". You awaited his confirmation or denial.

"You're correct." He gave you a definitive nod, a smile grazing his lips as he continued. "Gimme MacTavish now".

Encouraged by his validation, you glanced at Johnny, still conversing with Marissa. "Easiest personality-wise, charismatic and easy-going, don't think I've seen him without some kind of smile this evening. Although he's more complex as a soldier, I don't have anything on him regarding that. Maybe that's why he's called Soap." You looked to John for help with raised brows, curious to see how close to the truth you were with the guess.

"He's a good soldier; his nickname comes from that", he smiled at you.

"Like my version better", you chuckled, and his smile grew, causing the bristles on his upper lip to curve, accommodating the move.

"Final thin’ then, what rank?"

At that, you actually let out a short laugh. "Would've guessed a Corporal if it weren't for you saluting his talents".

"Give up?" John's question was followed by a quirk of his brow and a sip of his drink.

"Do tell because I have no idea".

"He's a Seargent".

Your brows raised. "Yeah, no, don't believe that ", you shook your head with a laugh. "From what I've seen of him tonight, it doesn't fit his picture".

"A difficult soldier to spot outside base indeed", John referred back to your initial assessment of Johnny.

"Did I still pass the test then?" He lowered the glass he'd kept close to his chest this whole time, bending his left elbow to let it rest against the bar.

"Yes", thanks to his newly acquired position, his slight lean towards you was a mere shift. "Knew you would".

"How could you've been so sure?" You challenged him. "I could've choked under pressure".

John's brows quickly moved up and down as he raised his chin, remaining silent for a few seconds as he observed you. "No, you wouldn't have because it's your second nature. Noticed it when you came in here earlier." He gestured to the pub entrance with the tip of his glass.

As if able to get the outer-body perspective John had of you as you arrived, your eyes trailed the direction he motioned.

"How so?" Your gaze was back at him, yet his eyes remained stuck at the doorway.

"You were alert; those eyes of yours were sharp, observant to a degree I recognised ...", John's sentence trailed off when he turned back to face you, his eyes flickering over you before meeting your gaze. "Not gonna lie, the dress had me questionin’ longer than usual if you were one of us".

"What settled your mind?" He grinned, head tilting side to side.

"It's my job to notice people like you that ain't as sweet looking".

You wished you'd had a drink to cool yourself with as heat spread through your body at John's comment. To say it had taken you off-guard was an understatement. It was so unlike his earlier, not forced but definitely not innate, pick-up line; this was a taste of that same effortlessness he'd displayed during your game of cards.

Flustered, searching for your wits, you find yourself tongue-tied. And it didn't get better when you spotted John's smile behind the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink, eyes still on you.

Thankfully, he broke the mere second-long silence that had felt eternal when he swallowed the beverage.

"Maybe we should call you if we need a new face for interrogation". It was a joke. An offered out of your own flustered state.

"I bet Ghost is enough". John chuckled, yet the sound quietened when you swivelled your chair to fully angle your body towards him. "But, I still bet I could attribute with something".

"What you suggestin'?" His eyes jumped over you, a slight quirk in his brows.

"Can give you pointers on how an outside eye asses you".

"Now, can you, eh?" One of his already intriguingly raised brows arches. Your pulse increases, a slight tapping emerging at the base of your throat when John sets down his drink, turning his chair to face you. Instinctively you press your legs together, giving John enough room to not touch you with his knees as they slot on either side of you. "What would you say others see then?"

You justify the trail over his frame as required to answer his question. But, you know it's futile, knowing very well the roam of your gaze was to take in his broad body, still accentuated despite his arms crossed over his chest and the slight haunch in his back to lean slightly closer to you.

"A tight-knitted group", you say, eyes locking with his as you continue. "Yet, what the Captain says goes".

A slow side-ways tip of his head accompanies his amused huff. "That's the whole military".

You hold up a finger and raise your brows. "Ah, I'm not done". John raises his hand at your smile-accompanied accusation. "This group of yours, they look up to you, respect you, that's why they follow you. They put their trust in their Captain because he's earned it." Something softens the amused upward-turns of his features at your words, his arms settling on his thighs.

"Playin’ at an old man's pride?"

You chuckle softly. "Ain't playing anything; already said you must've earned your rank".

"You're startin’ to sound subjective, love".

"Oh, sue me", you roll your eyes, a slight smile spreading on John's features as his knee knocks against yours in jest before falling outwards again. "Fine then, if you want objective, I'll give it to you. If anyone wants to aim at your group, they'll aim for the heart". You nod towards him, inclining what you didn't spell out.

With a shift of one foot to rest on the floor to not have him fall out of his seat, John moves closer by a slight bend in the waist and forwards tip of his head. "If that's your best take on bein’ objective, I can't imagine your subjectiveness".

An all too cheerful-sounding scoff is directed at him as your knee falls out to mimic the bump he'd done against your knee previously. A grin breaks his lips apart. 

"I'll tell you, it works wonderfully for persuasions". Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you feel the smile you want to suppress spread anyways. John's eyes flicker down, returning to your gaze when teeth flash as your smile turns into a grin.

"Not doubtin’ that". John could've said something else entirely. You didn't need too much imagination to convince yourself he had. The cadence of his voice, the smooth churning of something purely described as deep, rich, mingling with the accent already coating his words in almost a droning hum, a pleasant one for your ear to experience.

You swallow, the intensity in those blues causing a quiver in your fingers. You attempt to shield it by putting your right arm on the countertop and tapping the wooden counter with your fingers.

A loud noise makes you jump, fingers curling into the wood, eyes falling from John's and seeking the source of the sound.

"Keep your heads on your shoulders. You need to be sober enough to get to the base at the latest 01:00 for drills at 07:00. I'm not puttin’ in a word against office duty if you don't". You switched to look at John -or more so his profile concerning he'd twisted his neck to watch the men seated at the tables- as he's seemingly unphased by the sudden disturbance.

"Does that apply to you too, Captain?" Your eyes widened, gaze snapping from John's profile. In the corner of your eye, you catch how he cocks his head and swivels his chair until he is sitting in a similar position as previously.

You hadn't anticipated the comment from Kyle. Johnny, maybe, but not the brown-eyed man now watching his superior with a grin as his eyes remain solely on the man at your side. Connecting it quickly to what Marissa forwarded from the Scot -something you gradually started to believe- you knew it was a jab at John and not necessarily you. Still, the attempted silent snickers from the others urged a rush of heat through your body, head ducking instinctively.

"You seem to forget I'm already on office duty and won't partake in the drills tomorrow, Sergeant". John replies without a hitch in his breath, an assertiveness in his tone you hadn't anticipated. It's enough for you to raise your gaze and focus on him.

As your eyes flitted over him, you realised his whole demeanour changed. It's the same shift you'd seen earlier the night, now clocking it's a switch between John and his role as Captain. However, unlike earlier, it doesn't make you uncomfortable. Instead, the opposite, an appreciative smile spreading when the arched brow daring Kyle, or anyone else, to make a further comment is met with silence.

As John turns towards you again, not entirely but showing his focus tracks back to you with the shift, you catch him mumbling beneath his breath. 'These lot...'

He sighs, shaking his head. "You mind?" Your gaze locks with his before flickering down to the metal case he fishes from his back pocket, opening it expertly with his thumb to show the cigars inside. He doesn't reach for one until you shake your head.

"Only if it smells like a cigarette". As John reaches for one of the dark auburn rolls, balancing it between his fingers whilst pocketing the case, he scoffs as if honestly offended.

"Then you wouldn't be the only one", he muttered, reaching for something over the bar.

You can't help how your eyes travel down to the small strip of skin he reveals when his shirt inch upwards. Before he notices, you promptly avert your eyes to see he's recovered a similar tray serving to collect ashes as he'd sported over at the table in the absence of a proper ashtray. 

As he placed it on his right side, away from you, he fished out the same sleek metal lighter he'd used to light the cigar earlier the evening.

"Hate when Ghost pulls those out". A flame flickered to life as he popped the cap with his thumb, the orange-yellowy flare brought to the butt of the roll now resting between his lips.

Your eyes skate over to Ghost, then back to John, eyeing him as he puffed at the end until dropping the pocket lighter with a satisfied hum when a subtle curl of smoke rises from the glowing tail.

"Didn't know he was a smoker", you say.

John glances at you, dropping the cigar enough to flash you a smirk. "We all have our copin’ mechanism. Some of us just have more tasteful ones". You chuckle with a shake of your head, following the cigar as he raises it to his lips.

He inhales a mouthful, not a lungful, John’s chest not expanding more than marginally. With his eyes closing, his hand drops to the side until his elbow rest against the counter and the cigar rests over the ashtray. When he releases the cloudy vapour, he turns slightly to the side.

As he faces you again, his eyelids flutter open, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards instantly when he discovers your eyes never left him. "You're starin’, love". You frown despite his teasing tone, nabbing the first thing that comes to mind.

"If you continue at this pace, those will kill you". You nod to the cigar in John's hand. Yet, you only get a chuckle and an amused look in return.

"If nothin’ on the field has done it yet, I take the risk". You let out a light exhale. From how John doesn't even wince but savours the taste before pointedly turning away from you and blowing out the smoke, you know you won't be able to change his habits.

You watch as he puffs the cigar, his blues not leaving yours longer than it takes to empty release his breath. The scent of smoke slowly tints the air, but there are hints of something else in those blue whisps.

"What's that?" You ask, and his brows raise as to what you're referring to. "The scent?"

John hums. "Maduro; carries a distinct coffee and dark-chocolate aroma".

"Don't know about that". You muse. Sure, it doesn't smell like acrid cigarettes, but neither would you've guessed coffee and chocolate. John smiles with a shrug before taking another puff. "You know your cigars".

"Like you know your liquor". You unabashedly shrug as John reaches for the glass he's let sit on the counter for a bit. He pauses mid-way to his lips, eyes flickering down to its contents. Or rather, the lack thereof.

"I can make another one". You say, not until now, realising all that's left is the half-melted ice cube. 

Without even waiting for John's answer, you prepare to stand. However, with a shake of his head and shifting his chair towards you, he stops you mid-action.

"Sit. I enjoy your company more than a drink". When John sets the glass on the counter, those blue eyes don't fall from yours. A sincerity is laced within his gaze, and the smile he's so prone to bring forth stretches your lips again.

As you sink into your seat again, one leg crosses the other, the slip of your dress accommodating by baring your thigh. Your legs fall closer to John with your move, and your exposed knee grazes against his thigh. When he further angles his body towards you, it rests against his leg. As neither of you breaks the point of contact, you feel the warmth he emits even through his jeans.

"Never got to know how you find your way to this pub?" The air is comfortable, and you rest your elbow on the counter, head falling against your hand as you watch John.

"Kyle got a whiff of the place through some mates; it just so happened that it lived up to its reputation". Not surprised. You hummed at his answer.

"What made you regulars?"

"Because I can have a drag of this without lookin’ like a kicked puppy on the streetside", he jokes with a motion to his cigar, and you huff out a laugh, still reprimanding him with a slight nudge to his leg with yours. "Happened to be that most took a likin’ to something after our first visit". Your brows cock, eyes instinctively fleeting sideways, briefly catching Johnny gazing at Marissa as she entertains a conversation with Kyle.

When they return to John, you find him watching you as he inhales a drag of smoke. "I can guess someone's reason-". You refer to what your attention strayed towards. "-but what's yours?"

"Hm, the ambience, like the conventional setting Marissa got goin’ despite innovated. Not a fan of many of the brand new places". You nod, noticing how John works his jaw, lips subsequently pursing, before he speaks up. "How come we haven't seen you around before?"

"Why, would I've added to the ambience?" You can't help the quirk of your lips at how his brows raise, feeling as if it was finally your turn to be put on the spot but the other way around.

Before he answers, a low chuckle escapes him as he ducks his head before rolling it to the side to look at you. "Maybe I would've added you as a reason".

You bite your lip, barely able to contain the giddiness his comment elicits. Only managing when actually answering his question. "It was some time ago I worked full-time. Nowadays, I only jump in occasionally when Marissa asks". 

He nodded. "What do you fill your time with otherwise?"

"Free-lancing", you explain. "Nothing all too fancy, but I get to do things I like with the freedom I want-". You clip the end of your sentence, stopping yourself before formulating your the intended question that would’ve followed. Naturally, you want to know more about his work in return, but you hesitate, not desiring to destroy the mood if he rejects explaining.

"I can hear you thinkin’". John nudges your knee with a slight move of his thigh, bringing you out of your thoughts. "Go on", he urges you. And, like so many other times during the evening, something about his encouragement makes you fold.

"Well, concerning Marissa has mentioned you, I can't lie and say I haven't been curious about you lot since arriving. But I didn't want to pry, know you're off-duty if you're here". He keeps looking at you as your head stops resting on your fist, instead moving your hand when you explain yourself, patiently waiting for the question you build up to with a barely visible smile. "I-I just wondered what you do? You guys aren't really rookies, and it was hard not to notice a certain reluctance to initially mention you were in the military...", you trail off.

John remains silent for a few beats, head tilting as he watches you, and you fear you overstepped even though he urged you to ask the question. "We ain't directly military".

"No?" Your brows furrow.

"Special forces". Your lips part, hand dropping until your forearm rest against the wooden counter. Oh.

"What branch, if I may ask?"

"SAS". Really fucking oh.

"And you made me think my training was even the slightest set apart from absolutely fucking petty compared to yours", you huff in disbelief. Your comments bring out a deep laugh from John, a grin pinning his lips upwards.

"It ain't all too bad".

"Not all too bad- the fucking SAS, John". You lean slightly closer to emphasise what you said as if he didn't realise his occupancy. "You're a Captain in the SAS out of everything on this spinning globe".

He shrugs, disturbing his slowly diminishing cigar's linear ringle of smoke. "Ain't too shabby, I guess".

"Fucking hell", your hand jerks upwards, shaking your head in disbelief as you straighten up again, an unbelieving smile etched onto your lips. That earns you another laugh from him as his hand, having rested on his leg, pats the middle of your bared thigh. 

"I'm takin' the piss".

You accusingly raise your brows at him. "You better be". His hand stills and gently squeeze the spot where he touches you, an offered 'my bad' as his gaze locks with yours. It takes mere seconds before your smiles reflect one another.

"Well, gentlemen, I think it's time to shoo you out. I don't want to be responsible for your absence on any important matters in the morning." At her voice, your eyes are drawn to Marissa. She rises from her seat despite some protest from a certain Scot, to which she only offers a smile and a 'sorry, Johnny-boy'. As she turns her neck towards you, her brown eyes flicker down to see John's hand resting atop your thigh. Although her smile remains the same, you note the twinkle entering them when noting your proximity to the older man. "Ain't that right, Price?"

"Always good to know you look after them", he returns, hand slipping from you to brace against his kneecap as he straightens somewhat.

"Your boys ain't the biggest group of troublemakers, but always good to have someone look out for them", Marissa shoots back. But, with a quick shift of her gaze to meet yours, you know the comment isn't as innocent as it appears. Having spent enough time with her, you can hear the unspoken continuation. While your attention is on someone else.

As your friend turned and began collecting what littered the table, Johnny followed suit to help her while Ghost and Kyle rose from their seats, gathering their belongings.

The shift in the edge of your vision brought your eyes back to the man at your side.

You watched as John stubbed out the unsmoked bit of his cigar. His opposite hand rose to run across his beard, and until then, you hadn't registered the fine specs of ash coating parts of his facial hair.

"Ready?" You ask when the action slows, unable to hide your amusement. John's gaze jumps to you, creases entering the edges of his eyes as he notes you'd followed his movement.

"The only downside", he chuckled as he rose from his seat.

One of your brows cocked. "Only one?"

"Hush now". His reply makes the laugh you repressed escape anyways, but it fades when he stretches out his hand for you.

Your brows raise momentarily, eyes flickering down to his hand and up to his eyes, not even debating before accepting his upturned palm.

John's hold is gentle as he helps you keep your balance whilst stepping down from the bar stool. "Thank you". He smiles in return and drops your hand, and you instantly miss his touch.

John turns and moves toward the only occupied table during the evening, and you watch how Ghost throws him his jacket that he expertly captures and supposedly was to retrieve. Your attention is pulled from them when Marissa passes you.

"Do you need any help?" You follow your friend as she rounds the bar.

Her head raised as she set down what she'd carried from the table. "No need. I'll fix this tomorrow morning". She gestured to the dishes before her.

"You sure? I can help so you can sleep in tomorrow?"

"We can help". Compared to the first time the Scottish accent appeared by your side, you don't startle when Johnny rounds you, placing the rest of the dishes beside what Marissa already brought.

"I have a few deliveries that I need to be here for tomorrow anyway, so I'm just gonna lock up for the night. Head on out with the rest". She waved the two of you off, and you simply shrugged.

"Fine, we'll wait for you outside", Marissa sent you an appreciative smile as your reply stopped the Scot from possibly debating with her.

"Alright, Riss", he simply settled on. "Come on then, lass", Johnny slung an arm over your shoulder.

"Am I your human crutch now?" You poked the dark-haired man's side.

"Haven't had that much", Johnny defended himself. "I remained on good behaviour today", he puffed out his chest as you caught a laugh from your friend just as she ducked into the back.

"Hard to believe when coming from the man daring me to a drinking game", you teased, knowing he wasn't any further inebriated than barely tipsy, concerning he wasn't stumbling over his words or burdened you with his weight when he turned the two of you with a chuckle.

Facing the exit, your and Johnny's eyes fall on the others moving towards it. 

You instinctively pay more attention to John as he steps away from their table. But, with his jacket already clutched in one hand since previously, your brows furrow. To your attention, he hadn't brought anything else. And that's when you see the accessory not fitting his general appearance. In John's other hand is your purse.

While something warm worms into your chest, you feel the body beside you move, silent amusement causing Johnny's chest to vibrate. You twist your head towards him, being met with a wide grin as his eyes drop to you, returning from having caught the same sight you'd done.

"You've really put ya charms on the old man, now 'ave ya?" His bright eyes are creased in the corners as his hand squeezes your shoulder.

Your mouth drops open. "I-I...uh", you stumbled over your words, suddenly bashful at having someone beside Marissa point it out. Even though he's already mentioned it to her, you remind yourself.

Your wide-eyed look earns a not-so-suppressed laugh from Johnny this time around. "No need explainin'". His smile softens somewhat, yet the glint in his eye is still there as he leans in slightly. "Only hope the old fecker doesn't fuck it up with a bonnie like ya". You duck your head to hide a laugh, nerves dissipating at the Scot's comment.  

"He's got his charms". You look up, gaze locking with John's briefly before facing the man at your side. He gives you a wink before letting you go, leaving you to take the lead when nearing the others.

Your focus shifts to the exit. 

Ghost pulls the door open, its never-fixed natural chime filling the air. Kyle follows him shortly, pushing the door slightly wider for John to catch with the same hand he holds his jacket. However, instead of exiting, he waits for you to come close enough to wordlessly hand you your purse and motion for you to head out before him. You smile as thanks for both actions.

The air is lukewarm. Not cold by any means. Still, a shiver prickles your skin when a warm gust blows past.

"You can't possibly be cold". You turn to look at John as he follows you onto the sidewalk. To give space to Johnny trailing after him, you take a few steps to the side before angling your body towards him as he steps up to you.

"Says the man who brought a jacket". You nod towards the material in his grip.

"Fair". John chuckles as he stops close to you, his free hand hooking into his pocket, his thumb sticking out.

As the door closes, you look away from those blues you'd stared into for the better part of the evening, focusing on what was beyond the pub window. You see Marissa with her bag slung over her shoulder, meaning she must've finished the closing procedure in the back.

Next, your eyes are drawn to the only one moving in the company. Ghost's dark frame melts into the building's facade more so than the still-bright evening as he moves towards one of the cars parked a few steps away. The late setting sun reflected in the windshield, and the cloud-free sky lightened the night considerably regarding the time.

The slight shift in your peripheral finally draws your eyes back to John. As your attention land upon him, you note he followed your previous line of sight of watching Ghost leisurely come to lean against the rear-view mirror as he waits. Soon though, his blue eyes settle on you.

"How'd you get here?" It's a simple and innocent question depending on how you interpret it. But you can't help but do anything but.

"I was already out and about, so I walked". John nods, looking away for a second as you notice his jaw works from the muscles in his temple. When his eyes return, he tips his head somewhat downwards and slightly raises his brows. "I could drive you home if you want?"

You immediately press your jaws together to not break out in a lunatic smile. Those butterflies are back, wild and whipping in your stomach, not because of nervousness but excitement. As you watch John, gaze into his blues, you breathe in.

Mingling together is the noticeable but hard-to-place smell of warmth in the air still present from when you arrived and the scent of John you'd grown accustomed to during the evening.

"My mother warned me of jumping into strangers' cars". You attempt to play down your immediate reaction to his offer.

It earns you a chuckle. "Can't say I pose as the friendliest either". John looked over his shoulder to the big black rover parked further down the street than Ghost had. You can barely shield your amusement despite attempting to when he turns back. "What?"

"Could think you worked for the Mafia rather than the military".

His brows teasingly narrowed at you. "That so?"

You nod with a light hum. "At the least thought it was more Ghost's style than yours", you'd lowered your voice to not let the man you referred to catch your sentence.

"Can't blame you", he chuckles with a slight head shake as your eyes fall back to the black rover ahead.

"Oh, jump in the car". Both you and John followed the voice to find Marissa. You hadn't heard her exit the pub and lock the door, but evidently, she must have done it slightly before butting into your conversation concerning how Johnny and Kyle joined Ghost by their car.

"I'm going the other direction anyways, and I know Price won't kidnap you". You knew she could've and would've given you a ride. She'd done it frequently when you worked together. You cocked a brow at her, one she disregarded when she redirected her eyes to John. "And, if you do so happen to take such a liking to my friend that you decide to abduct her, I know where you live".

"You don't know where I live", he huffed out a laugh.

Marissa only smiles in return. "Maybe so, but I do know where that base of yours is and that some of your boys will be there". She put a hand on her hip, and at that, he put his hands up in mock surrender, eliciting a chuckle from your friend as she turns back to you.

"Hear from you in the morning to know wheater you end up home or in a basement?" She said, but the look in her eyes said something else entirely.

You couldn't help but shake your head, knowing she had said it because she wanted all the details. "Sure". She brought you in for a hug before stepping away and heading in the same direction as the boys had, her car parked in front of theirs.

"Thanks for coming by tonight", she called as she stopped by the vehicle.

"You know I can't say no to you", you returned with a smile.

"Nice to meet ya, lass", Johnny called out as he opened the passenger seat, a grin present as his eyes shifted. "See ya, Cap'n". John gave him a nod in return as you waved to the Scotsman. Like his goodbye, your action responds to Ghost's nod and Kyles's wave.

"Seems like I'm taking you up on that offer", you said when finally turning back to face John.

"Come on then, love", he gave you a side-ways nod as he directed you to his car.

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[eretzyisrael]

by Dexter Van Zile

Anyone who has any doubts about the success enjoyed by the Islamist-led campaign to squeeze Jews out of the public square in the US needs to watch the video of the Boston City Council meeting that took place on February 14, 2024. The success of this campaign was on full display when District Six City Councilor Ben Weber, the only Jew on the council, withdrew a “negotiated ceasefire” resolution from the agenda. It was yet another moment when the Tikkun Olam agenda of “repairing the world” was handed its head by Islamist activism in the United States.

Weber’s resolution was pretty straightforward and “balanced.” In addition to highlighting the suffering of both Israelis and Palestinians and calling for a negotiated ceasefire between Hamas and the Netanyahu government, Weber’s resolution asked councilors to call on Hamas to return the hostages it took on October 7, and work for the safe return of Massachusetts residents stuck in Gaza.

Before announcing that he was withdrawing the resolution from consideration, Weber declared that while writing the resolution, he sought input from fellow councilors, officials from Boston’s Jewish Community Relations Council, and a prominent Boston-area Palestinian-American lawyer working to get Massachusetts families safely out of Gaza. Weber didn’t say which councilors he spoke to, but The Boston Globe subsequently reported that Weber had spoken with former council president (and Israel supporter) Ed Flynn and anti-Israel zealot Tania Fernandes Anderson.

The dialogue was to no avail. “It has come to my attention that the language of the resolution I drafted may cause more division, which is the opposite of what I hope to do,” Weber said. “So out of my respect to my council colleagues and members of the Boston community, I withdraw this resolution to have further conversations.” In short, Weber, a first-term city councilor, didn’t want to force his colleagues to declare their response to the October 7 massacre openly, because to do so would make him a one-term city councilor.

After the meeting, Weber told me that he felt obligated to withdraw the resolution after unnamed people expressed concerns that it was promoting the involuntary departure of Palestinians from Gaza and that it appeared to promote “one side over the other.” The notion that Weber’s resolution promoted the involuntary evacuation of Palestinians from Gaza is an intentional misreading of the text. Weber’s resolution says nothing about the expulsion of Palestinians. And as far as “taking sides,” the resolution was clearly written as an attempt to mollify “pro-Palestinian” (anti-Israel) activists, including Fernandes Anderson, by highlighting the suffering in Gaza without acknowledging it was Hamas who was responsible for this suffering. The logic is simple. If there would have been no October 7 massacre (and no terrorism from Gaza before that), there would never have been any conflict in Gaza.

If Weber had been paying attention, he would likely have spared himself the humiliation of having to withdraw the resolution by not submitting it in the first place. It’s not as if Boston isn’t in bad need of some Tikkun Olam.

But beyond these problems, speaking openly about Hamas’ October 7 massacre and its aftermath is becoming increasingly out of bounds for Israel and its supporters, Jews especially, in American civil society. Jews on college campuses have been bullied and harassed for years and this bullying has only become more intense in the aftermath of October 7. Jewish students have been forced to seek shelter in libraries and classrooms, as Hamas supporters, campus Islamists, and their progressive allies recreate the modern-day equivalent of the “ghetto bench,” which drove Jews into hiding in Polish colleges and universities in the 1930s.

#tikun olam #boston #resolution #gaza #hamas #ben weber #boston massachusetts

[karidley]

Hot take, but I actually really, really love Cassie Sandsmark's current costume.

It just... it looks like how I dress. I see me in that. I see my evolution in her evolution.

I too was an awkward (unwittingly) queer kid who thought every other girl in existence was born with innate knowledge I had no way of obtaining. In my younger years I generally looked like a dorky string bean.

Then as a preteen and teen I leaned real hard into being a tomboy. At the time my idea of fighting the patriarchy was to ~not be like other girls~, but if I'd allowed myself to be truly honest with myself I would have recognized that i actually didn't feel all that happy wearing baggy, oversized clothing and being mistaken for a boy. There's nothing wrong with that, let me be clear. But to me it was either THIS or THAT. And wearing or doing anything "girly" was giving in to the patriarchy. And that's not a really healthy way to make life choices.

Obviously Cassie did the opposite, leaning way into "doing girl right," but we were both reacting to same principle: there's a right way to be a girl and there's a wrong way and you need to either gather or throw away what doesn't conform. I was looking for a fight. Cassie was looking to belong.

What broke this mentality for me was moving to an art school thousands of miles from the heteronormative white suburb I'd grown up in. I met so many different people with different experiences of the world. And wow! Lots of them had personal styles that weren't Boy or Girl or Popular Subgroup with Distinct Rules (when i was a teen it was emo, scene, punk, prep.) And I started to go "hey no one knows me here... maybe I could try on being sexy or girly or pretty or cutesy or dye my hair or shave my head. Maybe i can play. No one here cares, there's no one to fight."

But poor Cassie had to try to do her wobbly, awkward self-exploration in front of the world, while standing next to Dianna Prince and Donna Troy (and getting bullied at school.) Everything she did or didn't do with her self-presentation was automatically in conversation with their choices. And as one would expect, often her attempts ended up looking either painfully clumsy or "not herself."

In college I had a close friend and roommate (a lesbian - i was the "token straight" in my friend group which lol no i wasn't), whose style embodied feminine cuteness. She always wore heels and had perfect makeup and wore pretty long skirts. Like Cassie did with Cissie, I paid attention to how she put on her makeup and copied stuff. She gave me tips when I asked about it. I felt awkward and clumsy and self conscious (and looked it, too.) After a bit I moved on, took a little bit with me (a lot of it wasn't my thing and honestly felt like i was cosplaying someone else) and starting trying other stuff.

Over time I also became acquainted with the wider queer community and learned the gender binary was false to begin with. (God, I wish I'd known sooner.)

ANYWAY what ended up happening was that I pieced together a really comfortable, eclectic style that's first purpose is to make me happy. Sometimes I wear makeup. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes i look like a witch with tall edwardian boots. Sometimes I look kinda punk. Sometimes I look like I stepped out of a historical picture. Sometimes I *do* wear baggy oversized clothes. I have brightly dyed hair. I've tried an undercut, and pixies, and long hair and the bisexual bob. I wear a large hat and a leather jacket and heels. I wear sparkly nail polish and bright red lipstick and I absolutely don't gaf what shape my eyebrows are.

But that took years and years of saying "oooh I like that look" and going home and trying it on. (Sometimes with the additional queer head scratcher of "do I like this look or am I just attracted to this person?" Yeah, definitely not something i can imagine Cassie ever thinking lmao)

But funnily enough you wanna know what makes up the bulk of my outfits nowadays? T-shirt, leggings, comfy skirt, and leather or jean jacket. And comfy 1920s workboots. Why? It's comfy and I feel cute with very little effort!

Anyway, that's why i earnestly love Cassie's stylistic evolution and back and forth with femininity (even if I have to retrofit/reclaim some uhhh pretty sexist stuff from the people writing/drawing her.)

Because this girl? She looks like she looked in a mirror this morning and went "damn, I'm cute." She looks like she chose that skirt bc it's comfortable and fun to twirl in and for the snap the fabric makes when she's flying. She looks like she feels cool with that jacket on. She looks like she put that eyeliner on and went "fuckin nailed it" when she got the point she wanted.

#cassie sandsmark #wondergirl #i have so many emotions about this girl #sorry for the essay #I've just been thinking about this for a while

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 33 - Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

This was the third work of really classic sci I read in June, and the second that’s probably more famous as the raw material for an adaptation than as a book in its own right. Though in fairness the Tarkovsky movie is as far as I’m aware a better adaptation of this than Shadows of Chernobyl is of Roadside Picnic. Anyway, all to say that I think I’m starting to get used to the sort of abruptness and lack of narration regarding the protagonist’s emotions that seem to have been common in sci fi from the 60s-70s.

Solaris takes places on an eponymous alien world, almost entirely covered in a vast and strange ocean-like body with only half a Europe’s worth of rocky islands scattered across its surface. The story follows Kriss, a scientist, as he arrives for a posting on the skeleton crew living in a station floating above the ocean and studying it. As he arrives, he learns that the only member of the crew he personally knew had died the day before, and that the only two residents are acting paranoid and erratic; this all starts making sense when something that seems to all appearances to be his dead ex-girlfriend appears and starts talking to him, and he learns that the other two have doppelgangers of their own bothering them. Things spiral from there.

So, I’m not sure if this is a cosmic horror story, exactly, but it’s not not one either. The overriding theme is the limits of human rationality and understanding, the total impossibility of what we’d recognize as communication with something truly alien, the feeling of smallness and insignificance in the face of vast and strange and awe-inspiring. The first chapter of the book includes an intellectual history of the Solarists, going over decades of study and all the discarded theories and failed experiments that have made the posting such a dead end as the bright lights of science moved on to more promising problems. The ocean is Other, beyond human comprehension, and even at the end of the book none of the characters have come any closer to determining whether the phantoms it conjured out of their memories is an attempt to reach out and communicate, an experiment to see how they react, a reward or punishment, a purely reflexive response by something that isn’t even really properly conscious, or something else entirely.

I honestly don’t rightly know just what sort of science fiction a Polish guy in 1961 might have been writing in conversation with, but from my perspective there were definitely a few passages that seemed to be taking shots at what most space opera treats as aliens. ‘We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors.’ and all that. But again, that could very easily be me projecting – easy enough to read it as commenting on a dozen other things.

It was interesting that Rheya was the only doppelganger we ever meet – the story’s quite claustrophobic, and the other two scientists go quite out of their way to make sure Kriss absolutely never sees whose haunting them. Interesting, too, that Kriss is the only one whose actually got anything to be guilty about with regard to his – or, at least, according to Snow the other two were the subject of intrusive thoughts or unbecoming fantasies, whereas Rheya did in fact kill herself a couple days after the two have them had a particularly cruel argument and ugly breakup.

It’s not what the book was about, but I’m honestly kind of sad we didn’t get more insight into Rheya’s psychology? A simulacrum that knows she’s a simulacrum, created by by some unknowable agency for some purely instrumental purpose, not even in her own right but entirely to prod someone else with, unable to spend too long out of sight of him without some control mechanism sending her into a panic attack. There’s some real meat to dig into there, right? Just think of all the juicy existential angst.

My library’s copy of this is the old Kilmartin-Cox translation, which I’ve since regrettably learned is considered pretty rough and low-quality relative to the newer editions. Still, even given that, I kind of adored a decent amount of the prose in this? Or the descriptions of the alien environments, to be specific – the lengthy descriptions of the constructs thrown up by the ocean and how the appearance of the station shifted so dramatically with the rising and setting of each of the system’s two suns were just legitimately beautiful, and make me extremely eager to watch one of the movie adaptations when I can conscript some friends for it.

#book review #solaris #Stanislaw Lem #sff #classic sf

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hello! What would you think of someone making a Shepherds of Haven Guide in the future? One that tracks stat changes, relationship changes, and all that. Would you be alright with it, or would you be more comfortable if people refrain from making such guides? I ask because I've been cobbling together a makeshift guide during my personal playthroughs, and I've been thinking of polishing it up and expanding it — but I'd like to know what your boundaries regarding this topic are, first. I apologize if you've already addressed this issue; I tried searching it up, but I unfortunately couldn't find anything. Thank you for your time, and have a good day!

Hi, thanks for your question! I technically have answered it before, but yes, I would be totally happy for anyone to put together a guide that tracks the game's stat changes and etc.! In fact, I would applaud the effort, given how immense the game is!

Several years back, I did attempt to create my own walkthroughs like this on Patreon, but had to give up because it was far too time-consuming for me alone. I should say that I am planning to create walkthroughs on 1) how to romance characters, 2) how to unlock achievements, and 3) how to achieve each of the game's different endings after the game is released, but these will all be broad strokes rather than a point-by-point breakdown of every stat/relationship change, if that makes any sense! For example, a romance guide for Trouble will outline one guaranteed way to romance him ("In Chapter 1, give him X as a birthday gift, choose to follow him to deal with the Equalists, pick this dialogue option...") that will serve more as a guide or signpost to point players in the right direction, rather than something that outlines every single choice that changes his relationship stat, positively or negatively.

So in short, I would welcome anybody creating something like that and/or sharing it with the community! However, because the alpha build is so in flux, it might save more time to wait until it's a little more solid, as I frequently go back and edit things, sometimes on an immense scale (e.g. like stripping fairmath out of the game and changing stat changes to flat integers), sometimes on a smaller scale (I went back and expanded some of Riel's initial dialogue in Chapter 1 because I have a better handle on how to write his character than when I first introduced him, etc.); so a guide might quickly become in need of updating based on all the changes I make to the game in its current state! I'd feel bad about creating more work for any guide-makers out there, so conceptually, I'm totally fine with the idea of making guides, but on a practical level, I'd recommend waiting until the game is closer to release maybe! 😄 I hope that all makes sense!

#Shepherds of Haven #guide #walkthrough

[rayadraws]

It's fun to see how your BG3 Tav's/Durge's personality develops over time, they really have minds of their own even if you had a plan when first designing them. These are the ones I've made so far:

Cirrus (tiefling sorcerer):

My first Tav, I didn't have any set plans for him beforehand. When designing his looks I made him heterochromatic and when I found a hairstyle that mostly covers one eye I immediately thought "oh, he covers his demonic eye because he doesn't like it when people stare at it" which set the tone for his character.

Now he is by far the most developed of my Tavs, I know his upbringing and how his life progresses after the game setting. Over the course of his playthroughs he developed into a mostly gentle and very kindhearted character, very confident in his magic but with a certain degree of social anxiety from being poorly treated for his looks most of his life.

Cirrus struggles to resist the charms of a strong man, gets a lot more confident and rather flirty when tipsy, can be very reckless (especially if magic is involved) and loves reading/learning new things.

He falls head over heels for Wyll and is as much a hopeless romantic as him; the rest of the camp goodnaturely rolls their eyes at their lovesick antics.

--

Eldora (dragonborn paladin)

Regretfully my least fleshed out Tav yet, but I went into creating her with the idea of a 100 % gold character - gold dragonborn with golden armour etc. I guess some of that later transferred to my 5E Gold dragon character Sorrel.

Eldora is righteous, proud, a bit naive as she is mostly familiar with the dragonborn clan way of life. Classic "I'm not mad, just disappointed" mentality. Expects everyone to do their best, can come off as mean but means well.

Fell quickly for Karlach, appreciating how honest and straightforward she is while feeling deeply for her predicament. She's more than willing to get her snout scorched for a few hot kisses.

--

Castor (half-elf druid)

My first durge, going semi-blind into that storyline. I chose druid because I liked the idea of a durge that turns into a wild animal to quench their bloodthirst. He's far less concerned with the "commune with nature" aspect but will not stand for cruelty towards animals.

Castor is developing into someone who will not willingly submit to anyone else - not even the murderous thoughts that inflict on his mind. He relies a lot on being intimidating and will never back down from a challenge.

He sympathizes with Shadowheart, who like him remembers little of her past; he also enjoys being around her in general and likes her sense of humour. At the time of writing they've just had their first kiss.

As intimidating as he can be towards his opponents, he's shown some tendencies of a softer side among people he trusts, though his attempts at being friendly need some... polishing ("do you like having your belly rubbed?").

#bg3 #cirrus #eldora #castor #bg3 tav #bg3 durge

[alex-dot-com]

The Holidays and The Lonely Farmer

Part One

Next: Part Two

When the Farmer has been radio silent all Winter, Shane grows concerned and goes to the Farm to check on them.

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

AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/52672798/chapters/133234471

Tags :

Gender Neutral Player (Stardew Valley) - Player Referred to as 'The Farmer' - Age Regression/De-Aging - Non-Sexual Age Play - Shane is Bad at Feelings (Stardew Valley) - Recovered/Recovering Shane (Stardew Valley) - sfw age regression - Age Regressor Farmer/Player - Shane Gets Therapy (Stardew Valley) - Soft Shane (Stardew Valley)

Also my first work :) Any Advice is appreciated

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

The Farmer had arrived in Stardew Valley on the First of Spring three years ago and had become an integral part of the community. Throwing themselves wholeheartedly into every event, becoming close with all of the townsfolk (even those not so pleasant) and even fixed up the community centre. Something Mayor Lewis seemingly didn’t even attempt before the Farmer's heart of gold and go-lucky attitude.

Shane despite his stony exterior and general attitude had developed a soft spot for the farmer. Shane had been a mess for years but when things truly began to spiral out of control the Farmer was there to help him pick up the pieces, something he would forever be grateful for. When the Community Centre re-opened and Shane lost his job with Joja the Farmer helped him pick up an evening job in the Saloon, they helped him get sober and there’s not much else to do in the valley anyway and if he’s not gonna drink he might as well make some cash from it. The Farmer has become somewhat of a constant in Shane's life, not only his but Jas and Marnie’s also, frequenting the Ranch to give gifts to Jas and discuss the Farm with Marnie.

On the Farmer's third Winter in the Valley, they had gone silent. Nobody had seen or heard from them for the first week of Winter. When Shane brought it up in the Saloon Gus and the others brushed it off. “There’s not much work for a Farmer in Winter, they deserve the break anyway.” Still, unease sat in the pit of Shane's stomach.

Missing the Festival of Ice was something the Farmer hadn’t done before, but again was brushed off. “Well, the shine of all these events has to wear off eventually, don’t worry they’ll show up.” Shane tried to focus on polishing but the back of his mind couldn’t let it go.

Maybe they’re visiting family or friends in the city for the Winter, there’s no point causing a bother, especially for the Farmer, they do deserve the break. Shane lay in bed each night and told himself, it’s not like they’re best friends or anything. It would be weird to go knock down the door if they’re just trying to rest.

-

It’s only on the day of the Feast of the Winter Star that murmurs of concern begin amongst the others. The Farmer doesn’t come to collect their present and Shane doesn’t receive one. Mayor Lewis assures Marnie that he sent the invitation to the Farmer the same day as everyone else’s.

When the Feast ends, Shane gives both Marnie and Jas a hug and decides he’ll swing by the Farm to drop off the Farmer’s presents. Promising Marnie he would check on the farm animals also he sets off. Trudging through the thick snow to the farm and his heartbeat in his ears, Shane starts to catastrophise. At least that’s what his therapist says it is, really he’s just considering the possibilities.

The Farmer did always know what to say, that night at the pond, their first real conversation the farmer seemed to understand. It wasn’t just sadness in their eyes but an understanding Shane hadn’t seen before. Then on the cliff, the Farmer was there and wasn’t angry or upset with him but talked to him, listened and comforted. What if the Farmer didn’t just understand but related? What if the Farmer had spent all this time helping him while he neglected their problems? His boots started moving quicker in the snow.

Coming into the Farm his breath caught in his lungs. The pathing is cracked and the stone walls are practically collapsing, they don’t look like they have been maintained if not for weeks but for the entire season. The layer of snow on the front porch was thick enough to have been there for at least a week, with no sign of footsteps or shovelling. He places the Farmer's gift on the snowy steps and heads towards the Barn and Coop. Part of him knows he’s avoiding knocking in case something terrible has happened, the blood is still loud in his ears and the air is having difficulty getting to his lungs.

The Chickens don’t seem happy to see him, they squawk angrily at his touch, their food storage and water are full as well and the radiators are on. It’s clear that the Farmer hasn’t been in for a while, Shane picks up the eggs and feathers left on the floor and places them neatly into the chest at the door. He doesn’t count them for fear of knowing for sure how long it has been since the Farmer has been out. The Cows have much the same reaction to him, mooing unhappily and moving away from his touch. They have enough food and water also.

He hovers at the door of the barn, the longer he spends in here the longer it will be until he has to knock on the farmer's door. His chest is tight, and he berates himself for being selfish but still hesitates to leave the barn and move back towards the house.

From the porch, he can’t see anything inside of the house. The curtains are drawn tight enough that he can’t even see the light inside of the home. He knocks on the door. Nothing. He takes a step back and considers just heading home, maybe the Farmer isn’t in. After a couple of minutes too long he takes a deep breath and tries the handle.

-

The door creaks open loudly from disuse, Shanes's eyes have to adjust to the darkness of the house. The only light was a faint glow coming from under the door on his right. The dog Marnie gifted the farmer on their very first Spring is on the armchair in the corner and only blinks at him before drifting back to sleep. Shane places the present on the kitchen table and steps towards the door.

“Farmer… are you in there?” He says softly through the door, silence for a second and he feels his heart rate pick up. A small sniffling sound is heard, he almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of his heartbeat, “Hey, I’m coming in, okay?” Pushing the door open gently and taking a deep breath, Shane steps into the room not expecting the sight before him.

The Farmer, only lit by a soft lamp in the corner sitting in the middle of the bed clutching a soft stuffed bear that’s seen better days, a blanket draped over their shoulders and tears streaming down their face.

#stardew valley #sdv shane #sdv farmer #age regression #sfw agere

[another-corpo-rat]

Shot by the dear @halsin💕

Victoria Crane Netrunner | Affiliation: Arasaka

“You know something I don’t? I doubt that but go on; I’m curious how you’ll waste my time.”

A snake in the rat’s nest, between her natural ease in lying and quiet brutality there was little doubt that Victoria Crane would flourish in the corporate life. Climbing high off of her mother’s shoulders and then higher still off the backs of beaten down peers, making sure to dig her heel into their spines, Victoria has managed to create her own niche within Arasaka. One she defends with tooth and claw.

She has had a hand in several company projects and missions throughout the years, garnering her own reputation as an individual best avoided in cyberspace. Her name gained extra polish due to her ongoing association with Adam Smasher.

Once deftly subtle in her approach, working with the cyborg for so long has taught her the effectiveness of tossing a grenade now and then.

Relationships

Partners: Adam Smasher (Current, Mainline) Unnamed wife†

Relatives: Marion Victoria-Diane Crane (mother) Joseph Benjamin Morris-Crane (father)† Angelo Victor Morris (half-brother)†

Biography

1990s-2020

Born in England in the mid-90s, Victoria was primarily raised by her mother while her father worked in the NUSA. Throughout her youth she would be repeatedly called her mother’s ‘mini’ due to their similarities in both appearance and temperament.

This temperament would be sharpened against the whetstone of her peers during her school years, aimed pointedly at those she felt didn’t belong anywhere near her social circles. She was notably unmoved following an announcement that a classmate had committed suicide, and hardly bothered when a friend of that classmate laid the blame for their death at her feet. This individual would later have to drop out due to their parents losing their jobs and standing within Arasaka.

Upon completing her education, Victoria immediately moved into a corporate job – working for Arasaka’s London Counter-Intel department. Her quick ascension through the pay brackets was accelerated by an unquestionable skill in netrunning and nepotism.

2021-2023

In 2021 Victoria was transferred to the Night City offices. Reunited with her father, she simultaneously learned of his affair and second family. Their relationship promptly crumbled.

She was kept busy during the Fourth Corporate War, assigned as the company netrunner for a hired merc, she worked with them until their attempted defection to Militech. Sloppy in covering their tracks, Victoria became quickly aware of what they were planning and alerted her superiors – she had the pleasure of zeroing them herself and did so with a brutality unique to netrunners.

Following this, Victoria was assigned to work with Adam Smasher. Throughout 2022 they would work several missions together, but Victoria would not meet the cyborg in person due to deeming it unnecessary. It was late in 2022 and through sheer luck that she happened to step into the same elevator as him on her way to a mission briefing. Their first words exchanged in person were allegedly insults.

Still, the duo would develop something of a camaraderie. One of their recorded mission communications included Smasher encouraging a less bloodless approach in how Crane should deal with her familial issues. While she agreed, Crane also claimed she didn’t want their suffering to end ‘too quickly.’

Present in Night City on the night of the nuking, Victoria was not operating within the tower as Smasher felt it stupid to have his netrunner present where the action was going to take place. This decision kept Victoria alive. She would jack out of her chair following comm disruption and repeated failure to re-establish contact with Smasher, only to look out in horror as she witnessed the sky turn red.

2023-2050s

Victoria would return to the London offices after the bomb, certain that Smasher had been lost in the attack. She would claim the contrary but it was clear to any who knew her that she was not herself for some time afterwards. Her fury at learning her father and his second family had survived was uncharacteristic as she had destroyed personal property and outright threatened the life of his mistress.

It wasn’t until 2026 that Victoria learned of Smasher’s survival. A notable relief gave way to her usual coldness in a matter of minutes. 

She would operate primarily from the Arasaka tower in London, assigned once again to be the netrunner for an Arasaka-hired merc. Enthralled with the familiar brand of violence, Victoria and the merc would marry in the late ‘30s. Neither of them were particularly loyal or loving.

Following her marriage and due to his ailing health, Joseph would reach out and try to repair their shattered relationship. While his attempts would amount to naught and achieve little else than further agitating Victoria, she made copies of his neurological research knowing they would prove useful for her own project idea that had taken root.

Joseph died in 2039 and perhaps in a last-ditch effort to make amends, had left a majority of his wealth and belongings to his daughter. Victoria would dispose of most of it and sell anything of value, but she kept a painting he had purchased specifically for her (the original of Landseer’s Man Proposes, God Disposes.)

In 2042 Victoria returned to Night City when her wife was on an operation. While she waited for her to return in the AV Hangar, she was instead reunited with Smasher who was also involved in the op. He greeted her with the news she was a widow, her wife having “gotten herself killed.”

The two would leave the hangar together to ‘catch up.’ Within a matter of days, she was reassigned as Smasher’s personal netrunner.

2053-2076

In 2053 following Smasher’s assignment as Yorinobu Arasaka’s bodyguard, the Arasaka heir attempted to replace Victoria, removing her from the position and assigning another that he personally selected. Smasher would burn through a number of these replacements in a matter of months, with the longest surviving only forty-six days.

In this interim, Victoria had dedicated her time to a personal project called OIZYS.

She returned to the role of Smasher’s netrunner within the year and would continue to work on OIZYS during lulls between work Arasaka assigned to Smasher and any personal gigs he took on.

In 2056, the project would see a successful test that confirmed its viability. Victoria pitched the project to Arasaka, successfully gaining funding and permissions for further tests on company-provided subjects.

In the same week as this successful run, her father’s former mistress would vanish following a public spectacle at a celebratory dinner for her half-brother. Angelo, placing the blame on Victoria for her treatment of his mother through the years and demanding that their father chose while simultaneously rejecting his attempts to amends, hired a fixer to plant a bomb under Victoria’s car.

The attempted murder failed, instead killing her building’s valet. In the days that followed and with the gossip mills churning, a number of Angelo’s illicit activities from the 2020s onward became public. This included videos of him in the midst of orgies, drunken slander of the Arasaka family and NUSA government officials, recordings of his calls concerning the attempted car-bombing, and his involvement in recording the torture and murder of a NCPD’s officer’s son.

He would commit suicide by the end of the week. With no family to arrange a funeral and his friends in hiding, his body was dumped in the municipal landfill.

In 2061, OIZYS had changed as Victoria was ‘highly encouraged’ to incorporate an experimental nanite technology into its operations. While the nanites solved a trigger-delay issue, they were also more aggressive than anticipated and would not stop in their assault after the amygdala had been overwhelmed.

The project was deemed a success and Arasaka has used it successfully against a handful of international targets, however Victoria and a small team are still working to iron out the kinks. These efforts have been slow-going both because of the experimental status of the nanites themselves and the uptick in work Smasher performed for the company at the direct behest of Yorinobu.

2077

Following the sudden death of Saburo Arasaka and the aggressive actions of Yorinobu in the wake of becoming CEO, Victoria became suspicious of the man’s intentions. Like many, she saw through the inconsistencies with his poisoning story but would bite her tongue to see what direction he would steer the company.

Unhappy with said direction, she acts as if her hands are tied due to the influx of work that has landed in her lap with Smasher’s promotion to Head of Security. However, some have noted her free time spent in the company of Michiko Arasaka.

Cyberware

NetWatch Netdriver Mk.5 Self-ICE | Ex-Disk | Visual Cortex Support Favoured Quickhacks: Ping | Short Circuit | Contagion | Cyberware Malfunction | Reboot Optics | Suicide

Cyberoptics, EMP Threading, Chromed cyberarms with claw mods, Chromed collar, Optical Camo, Syn-Lungs, Titanium Bones, Lynx Paws, and a Midnight Lady

Weapons

“Charon” A personalised M2038 Tactician that deals electrical damage. Rarely used but always on-hand.

“Lancehead” A gold and black balisong tipped with neurotoxin. Victoria’s preferred method for dispatching anyone who gets too close. This weapon was a gift from Smasher, she claims that holds no bearing on her favouring it.

Notes

Victoria has modified her Contagion hack to attack aggressively, causing death more often than naught in its onslaught. Even those who survive the initial upload may die days later from the prolonged assault on their organs.

Smasher is the cause for her cyberarms – having deliberately crushed her right arm in early 2023 following a flare-up of carpal tunnel. She opted to get both replaced.

Her titanium bones and syn-lungs were not wanted modifications but were necessary after Smasher’s AV was shot down by juiced-up Animals. Her lungs were punctured by her ribs when he was tossed on top of her by gravity.  

Divider by Saradika

#cyberpunk 2077 #character bio #Victoria Crane #i can't wait to post this and then notice all the errors and inconsistencies #what better way to welcome in pride month than by posting the bio of my terrible bisexual rep Ms Crane #long post #while doing my research to try and keep things consistent #i discovered that canon makes little efforts in that regard #so fuck it

[holdinbacksecrets]

your writing is so so beautiful and beyond comforting, i can’t tell you enough. if it’s not too much trouble can i request what a fight (and/or the aftermath of) with yoongi and jk would be like? if not, don’t worry about it, i hope all your days are easy, if not good

thank you for requesting and sharing kind words! sending love

the way he’s looking at you makes your chest tighten. it’s unfamiliar, but his emotions always shine through his eyes, consuming their obsidian. the curiosity you hold wonders if he knows. if he feels the way his gaze reflects everything yet to be spoken.

you hope for his voice because silence isn’t comfortable like this. you feel fidgety and worried, yearning to know, yearning for the emotions and hurt to be out in the open. they can coat the walls. they can leave the floor sticky. it doesn’t matter to you. anything is better than the conclusions you’re making up in your head, creating a lonely nightmare.

in any other situation he would take your hand. he’d notice the irritability. he’d comfort the anxiety pouring out of you in hopes of softening your mood.

maybe that’s why your chest is tight… because you know his ability to see you hasn’t disappeared, but he’s too hurt to let the routine play out like it usually does, in the ways you’re used to.

when it’s too much to bear, you’ll leave the bedroom. you feel the attempts at being grounded through bare feet on hardwood floor. your palm will rest on the granite countertop in your kitchen. you’ll close your eyes before filling up a kettle for tea. you’ll make two cups and hope the warmth softens his mouth and tongue. softens his eyes, until he speaks to you.

sometimes it takes two cups. sometimes three. sometimes only a couple sips from the first one. sometimes he breaks when you set the mug down on the coaster you made in a university ceramics class. you’ll never know until you know, until the tightness in your chest releases, and it’s impossible to remember the way it felt.

it’s strange how that works. how hard it can be to reimagine feelings that were so overwhelming. losing them just feels too good.

today it takes two cups. you’re still nursing your first. your legs are folded, thighs brush your chest. your heals kiss the seat of the chair at the round table in your dining room. your nail polish is chipping. you’re thinking about a different shade of blue when he talks to you.

“i don’t know why i let it go so far. far enough for us to find this painful silence even though i’ve promised myself so many times to never meet it again. i whisper it against your hair after you’ve gone to bed. i speak it to the bathroom mirror. i’ve promised you.”

“it’s not all on you. i’ve spent years working on my communication, but i still fall back into old habits. fears have deeper roots than i realize. i’ll keep working on retrieving my own. the ones that are thick and twisted.”

he touches your hand. from across the table, he reaches out. his fingertips flutter across your knuckles. your shoulders relax.

“i could say something about roots and growing and the act of blooming, but all i want to say is i love you. next time- if there’s a next time, i won’t wait for your tea.”

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