TAGS: intoxication, alcohol consumption, rated T for some suggestiveness here and there, potentially ooc, yearning, this spiraled out of control
A/N: reporting live two cutwaters in (ifykyk 😶🌫️) after seeing phm for the third time life is amaze 👎👎👎
TAGLIST: @waayix
typed this in one sitting before passing out so not proofread
side note I got a photo with the cardboard cutout and the height difference 😋 😋 😩 I have an nsfw fic coming out later so stay tuned!
If you’re the clingy type of drunk, he lowkey… doesn’t know what to do with his hands??? His hands will rest on your hips to prevent you from toppling over as you sway side to side and back and forth, but he’s hesitant to move them elsewhere UNLESS you take charge.
He’s not complaining about your clinginess— the total opposite actually. His senses are going into hyperdrive and he feels like he’s about to combust from the sheer butterflies in his stomach, but he’d rather have you the first time around consenting sober without alcohol clouding your mind.
Sleepy drunk? He’s carrying you back to your place if he knows where you live. Use him as a pillow if you want, those muscles aren’t there for nothing. He’s flustered, sure, but he’ll let just about anything slide if it means getting you home safe.
If he doesn’t know where you live or for some reason can’t find your keys, he’ll bring you to a safe place, which will most likely be his apartment, to sleep the alcohol off.
If you wake up complaining of a hangover, there’s painkillers and water waiting for you on the coffee table already. Sometime later, he’ll wake up and ask how you’re feeling before extending an offer for coffee and home-cooked breakfast. His couch is surprisingly comfy and the patchwork quilt he draped over you sometime during the night is warm, and you come to the realization it’d be nice to wake up like this every morning.
All that’s missing is him.
A yapper? He’ll listen intently even if he has no idea what the subject matter is. It could be a new book you picked up or a movie you saw lately, it doesn’t matter. He’ll listen to your quiet, soft ramblings with the same attention he has toward his middle schoolers and their troubles, whether they be course-related or something going on outside of the classroom. Could be friend related. Or young puppy love and how to ask their crush out to the upcoming dance related. He’s heard just about everything under the sun now.
He notices everything. Of course he does; he works with middle schoolers. He pinpoints the exact moment the drinks begin catching up to you, and the the moment they all hit you at once. He keeps an eye on you swaying back and forth, and steadies you when you stumble getting up.
“I think you’ve had enough now,” he murmurs as he redirects you to the exit. You grumble and try to shake him off, but it looks like you’re flapping around like a fish out of water with your impeded motor control skills.
“‘M fine,” you grunt. “Night’s still young. I’ll be okkkk…”
When you try and reach for another drink, he gently but firmly pries it from your grasp.
“No,” he says pointedly, fixing you with that disappointed teacher look that you know better than to argue against. Still, you try and reach for it, but trying to get past him is like pushing and hoping for a solid brick wall to move. He. Won’t. Budge.
You’ve never been so pissed at his muscles before. You glare at his biceps in your drunken daze like they’ve personally offended you, and all he offers is an eyebrow raise.
“There always next weekend. Now let’s get you somewhere safe before you throw up on me. Dry cleaning is getting expensive, y’know?”
Once you’re finally out cold, he still worries about you. If you’re resting at home, he sends a message asking you to text him back and checks his phone a concerning number of times through out the night. He wakes up exhausted, but it’s worth it when he sees your reassurance that you’re alright.
If you’re crashing at his place, he gets up periodically through the night under the guise of getting water or using the bathroom, but he knows better when he peeks into the living room to watch you for a few seconds each time.
The warm orange glow of the lamp makes your skin look sun-kissed and radiant. He finds himself standing before you somehow and silently kneels down to be face level with you, despite how his knees pop.
His eyes trace over your every feature, from the softness of your eyelashes to slope and curve of your nose, down to the slight part of your lips as you steadily breathe. Even with the lamp as the only source of light in the room, it’s still one of the most— no, the most radiant sight he’s seen.
He can’t kiss you. Not yet, in this state at least, when you’re at your most vulnerable. He settles for tucking the quilt in tighter around your form and pressing his nose onto the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair. It smells familiar already; it smells like home and his breath hitches at the realization.
Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. But someday, he will.
enjoyed this? the taglist is open!
@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai
SYNOPSIS: all eyes are on an expo held out west with plenty of treasures showcased that catch the attention of two prominent thieves. with a one month time frame to plan the perfect heist, you find yourself wrangling more than just a getaway plan after catching the attention of the town’s sheriff.
TAGS: western au, fem reader, 18+ MDNI (unprotected p in v, creampie, porn w plot, sonic is kinda mean in this, light spanking, mild blood (he bites), mild bondage, cowgirl, mating press), vectilla sneak, 20.4k wc (yeah buckle in for this one)
TAGLIST: @hisvelvetfur , @karrodestroyer, special thanks to @shutupfruitgummi and @angeliteeyes for proofreading!
NOTES: first time writing smut kinda nervous 💔💔💔
there will be a pt. 2!
dividers by @ anitalerina and @ enchanthings-a!
When the notice comes through the telegraph in Sheriff Sonic’s office that his town has been selected to host this year’s national expo, he isn’t sure how to feel. It’s a real honor to be chosen, he knows that. A lot of thought goes into deciding the site for an exhibition– does it embody the specific theme for that year? Is it equipped to handle a massive influx of visitors and if not, how much funding and time will be needed until it can? Most importantly, how much investment and revenue is that site predicted to generate compared to others? But the icky feeling that he’s merely a pawn in the government’s overreaching schemes just won’t go away.
He folds up the notice and tosses it carelessly onto his desk on the way out to get some fresh air. Moments to himself like this won’t come so easily in the next few months.
The dry early evening air hits his face as he steps outside through the back door, taking a seat directly on the steps. He pops a stalk of wheat into his mouth, mindlessly chewing on it as he gazes out at the vast stretch of the desert that’s his backyard. The beginnings of a headache are already starting to form and Sonic hisses, massaging his temples. Either way, there’s no way out of this now.
His quills twitch uneasily and he looks toward the horizon, bathed in warm colors from the setting sun. Something- or someone- is approaching, but he’ll face it as he always has: head-on with no hesitation.
Sand rustles as the wind blows it across the barren desert, while insects and birds buzz and chirp. Some fennec foxes curled together in a shrub sleep peacefully– until they’re startled out by two horses threatening to crush them underfoot. They yip and scatter across the sand, sparking a flurry of panic from other wildlife in the area, until it’s completely silent save for the sound of the wind and vultures circling overhead, looking for carrion.
You come to a stop and dismount your horse. The sand is soft beneath your feet and it’ll make for a nice mattress tonight. It’s certainly better than some of the other surfaces you’ve had to sleep on the past few days, at least.
You hear loud yawning behind you and the flutter of wings as Rouge takes to the sky, stretching her wings and flying in circles above you. You lead your horses to a spring you had spotted nearby and leave them to drink their fill.
“Sometimes, I wonder why you have a horse when you have wings,” you ask as you unload supplies off their backs. Rouge lands with a soft crunch behind you and leans against her horse, feeding her an apple as a treat.
“You can’t possibly expect a woman like me to fly for hours on end, can you? That’s cruel and unusual punishment to the highest degree.”
You sigh dryly, already used to her dramatics.
“Besides, I have an image to maintain. This little band of thieves?”- she follows you and slings an arm around your shoulder, leaning all her body weight against you- “We do things the good ol’-fashioned way. Clean, efficient, on horseback, and leaving law enforcement no choice but to eat our dust.”
“Can’t imagine it’s that much more efficient than simply flying away,” you grumble as you begin setting up the campfire. She groans and rolls her eyes.
“Oh, but honey, the image it paints is simply timeless!” she exclaims, pressing a gloved hand to her forehead dramatically as she sighs. “And I’m nothing if not a thief of artistry.”
The campfire crackles to life beneath the starry night sky after a couple attempts with the flint. Rouge plops down next to you and lights a cigarette.
“Best you hide those things before we reach town,” you advise with a sidelong glance. “They’re a dead giveaway that we’re city folk and I’m not looking to stir up trouble on our first day there.”
“Fix up that prissy city girl accent of yours first and then we’ll talk,” she scoffs as she takes another drag of her cigarette. You send her the most scathing glare you can manage on an empty stomach as you begin grilling some fish you had caught earlier today.
“Like you’re one to talk. And I’m bein’ serious,” you grumble as you rotate the skewer, purposefully laying the accent on thick. “Switch to chewing tobacco or this heist will never make it off the ground.”
She purposefully blows a puff of smoke in your direction.
“No way. That’ll stain my teeth!”
“As if cigarettes don’t already do that already. Either make the switch or invest in cigars. Or you could roll ‘em yourself with corn husks.”
Rouge scowls and smacks you over the head, but it lacks any real ill intent. You cautiously nibble on a fish, then hand one over to the bat once you’ve confirmed it’s cooked thoroughly.
“I’m not getting my hands dirty just to smoke.”
“Tell me that once you’ve burned through your pack and there ain’t a shop in sight sellin’ ‘em.”
She clicks her tongue and blows another puff of smoke in your direction.
“I’ll make it work,” she grumbles. “I’ll stretch my supply. And you can drop the accent now, you know. No one out here but us.”
“Famous last words.”
A comfortable silence settles into the space until you’ve finished dinner. Rouge chuckles and turns to pull out a rolled-up newspaper, unraveling it with a flourish and presenting it to you. The first thing you see is the headline in bold, capital letters.
UNPRECEDENTED MOVE! FEDERALLY-SPONSORED EXPO TO BE HELD OUT WEST!
“An expo out here? In the middle of nowhere?” you mutter reluctantly as you turn the page, where you see a photograph of who you assume to be the town’s sheriff, judging from the wide-brimmed hat and lasso looped around it. He’s sporting a smug grin and his arm is raised in a two-finger salute at the camera.
“The town of Green Hills has witnessed unprecedented growth without sacrificing safety ever since its inception thanks to the longtime sheriff’s efforts,” you read out loud. “Beloved by all and the most famous name in town, Sheriff Sonic is the fastest hedgehog in the west with the matching skill and wit to boot. With a heart dead-set on doing what’s right, he personally guarantees the safety of all attendees at this year’s expo.”
The black and white photograph of the hedgehog draws your attention for a second longer, before you turn the page to see a paragraph about himself.
“Said to have never missed a shot in his life, this charming hedgehog, quick in both mind and body, will do anything to protect the prosperous town he calls home. Horse-stealing bandits and villainous murderers alike are no match for him and his speed. Blink, and you’ll miss him!”
You heave a sigh. What an idiot, you think. With a grimace, you hand the paper back to Rouge.
“Blue boy not your type?”
“He looks stupid.”
“It’s always the seemingly-stupid ones you have to be careful of,” she warns as she lightly smacks you over the head with the newspaper. “But it’s a shame,” she continues. “He’s quite easy on the eyes. It’s just the sheriff thing that ruins what he’s got going for him.”
“You mean what little he’s got going for him,” you grumble as you flick fish bones into the crackling fire.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You don’t like Rouge’s tone. You send her a withering glare as she relights her cigarette and takes another deep drag of it.
“Your point being?” you ask.
“The point is that’s why I’m sending you in!”
A loud “oof!” escapes you as she heartily claps you on the back.
“What for?”
“Why, to do what you do best, obviously- going undercover!”
You look off to the side, over where your horses are sipping at a puddle of water, as your mind slowly pieces together her implications.
“You’re sending me in to go undercover.”
“Correct.”
“There’s very few opportunities for work as a woman in a frontier town.”
“Mhm. You’re getting warmer. Almost there.”
“One of the only few is a saloon girl.”
“Getting hotter now. So hot it almost burns now.”
You sigh, already resigning yourself to your fate with a shake of your head.
“You want me to go undercover as a saloon girl and gather information. Specifically, butter up to the sheriff and squeeze as much information out of him as possible.”
She claps her hands together.
“Bingo! Sharp as ever, darling. And with looks like yours, he’ll be head over heels for you in no time.”
Rouge nudges you in the side with a conspiratorial giggle at the last part.
“Sure you don’t want to give him a chance? I think you two could hit it off real nice.”
You slap her away.
“Absolutely not!”
She clicks her tongue and looks off in the distance, where a stray tumbleweed rolls across the sand.
“What’re we stealing though?”
“Good question. They’ve been tight-lipped about the goods. Can’t find any mention of them in the papers. But I have a hunch it’ll be something worth coming out all this way for.”
You grab the newspaper again, scanning for any hint of what they’re showcasing. But you can’t find anything specific, aside from a generic sentence promising “wondrous sights and new delights being unveiled for the first time.” Whatever that means.
“Says the expo is going to be held a little over a month from now. They should’ve started preparing by now.”
You toss the newspaper to the ground. It hits the sand with a soft thump.
“Meaning I have a month to figure out everything, from the floor plan to shipment times and locations, and then put together a flawless plan to swipe it all out under their noses.”
You look at Rouge out of the corner of your eye. She makes eye contact and a smirk tugs at the corners of her glossed lips. It’s infectious and you already feel the familiar stirrings of excitement within you.
“Don’t make me laugh,” you declare. “We’ve pulled off heists flawlessly on tighter time crunches than this.”
She cackles and slings an arm around your shoulder.
“That’s my master of disguise for you. Always seen, yet never recognized.”
“We ride at dawn tomorrow?” you ask, settling in for the night.
“We ride at dawn.”
The dawn air is cool and crisp, smelling of desert flowers and dew, but it won’t last for long. You move hurriedly as soon as the sun’s rays peek above the horizon, packing everything up with practiced efficiency and covering as much ground as you can while the weather allows it.
“Doing good back there?” you ask once you’ve settled into a good pace.
It’s quiet for a second, aside from the thud of your horse’s hooves against the sand, until Rouge’s voice comes from the bag slung over your back, irritated.
“Cramped. Hurry up.”
You click your tongue and tap your horse’s flanks with your heels. She responds by speeding up and soon you’re galloping through the desert, kicking up a storm of sand in your wake and scattering the once-stationary tumbleweeds across the landscape.
“Feel bad for you. Almost,” you call out. Sand is kicked into your face and with a hiss, you pull your bandana up, squinting through the warm haze cast by the sand and rising sun, the heat quickly becoming merciless. “Was this really the only idea your genius mind could come up with? Smuggling you into town like illegal goods?”
“The only one,” she confirms, although she doesn’t sound very happy about it. “This gorgeous face of mine? On every wanted poster in small town and big city alike? Honey, we’d be arrested as soon as we got within shooting distance of that town if I simply walked up.”
“And how much does that inflate your ego?”
Despite her uncomfortable hiding spot, she manages a haughty laugh.
“Makes me feel like no treasure in this world is safe from my grasp,” she sighs, followed by another giggle.
“Feel like smuggling you in like this would knock it down just as much and then some,” you grumble.
The only response you get is Rouge kicking you roughly in the back.
The sun continues its lazy ascent across the sky until it hangs dead center above you, beating down on you relentlessly. Sweat sticks uncomfortably to your back, thick as molasses and just as difficult to scrub clean. The town sits low against the horizon as you approach it, its silhouette shimmering in the high noon heat. The sight of it reignites your hope, and you urge your horse to go faster until before you know it, dust settles around your horse’s hooves as you come to a stop at the town limits.
Most frontier towns you’ve come across are piss poor, held together by splinters and who knows what else. But this one? This one is flourishing. The streets are surprisingly clean and the town is far more developed than what you would expect from a place like this. There’s a general store, a gunsmith, a post office, a saloon which also happens to be the biggest building in sight, and a tailor all along the same street. Construction is happening everywhere you look, most likely in preparation for the expo. There’s a new hotel that’s close to completion and a massive structure still in the works, which you assume to be the exhibition hall just from its sheer size.
No wonder it was chosen to be this year’s expo site. It’s the poster child of what they’re trying to promote.
“How’s it looking?” asks Rouge as you urge your horse into a slow trot, slowly making your way into the town.
“A lot bigger and busier than I would’ve expected from a place out here,” you mutter. “And decently guarded,” you add once you notice the various lawmen patrolling the area, visibly armed. “We’ve got our work cut out for us with this one.”
Your spine crawls suddenly and you look around. There’s faces peeking out of windows and doors at the sight of a stranger. The construction crew has stopped their work and deputies are looking at you suspiciously, hands resting on their rifles. Your horse comes to a stop and tenses up, kicking at the sandy dirt.
“Easy, girl,” you whisper as you run your hand along her neck. It’s more so to soothe yourself than her and she seemingly senses your anxiety. She snorts again and her tail flicks back and forth agitatedly. You tighten your grip on the reins, restraining her from thrashing about wildly, but one of the gunmen steps forward, finger resting on the trigger, and it’s all over. She bucks and you lurch to the side with a yelp, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct. Rouge lets out a loud “oof” and you sharply inhale, praying no one heard that.
“Whoa there, easy! Don’t want your pretty rider gettin’ hurt now, do we?”
Your eyes fly open. Standing before you is the town’s sheriff. You recognize him from the photograph you saw in the papers. Same hat, lopsided belt, and lasso. A shiny gun, polished and well-maintained, is hooked into the waistband of his chaps. A .45 Colt single-action revolver. The wide-brimmed hat he wears covers everything but the sharp-toothed grin on his face as he strokes your horse’s muzzle to calm her down. To your surprise, it works, and he rewards her efforts with a carrot and a short chuckle.
Your throat suddenly feels dry, and it’s not because you’re in a desert climate. You grip the reins tighter and the movement draws his attention, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.
It’s like the world has suddenly come into focus. Every detail about him is crisp and clear, like the sound of a revolver being reloaded. Bright green eyes that practically glow even under the blazing midday sun bore into yours and make you freeze under the intensity of them. They carry the same barely-restrained energy as the lightning that accompanies the frequent thunderstorms in this stretch of the west. Though bright and energetic, there’s a hard edge to his gaze that makes you tremble– hopefully imperceptibly. Something that says I know what you’re up to.
Virtually no part of him has remained untouched by the bite of the desert. Sand seeps into the grooves of his boots while grit clings to the heel and sole, sullying the once-pristine white leather. His unbuttoned vest and gloves have seen better days, the leather scuffed and worn from wear and tear. The leather is peeling in some areas and the once-vibrant stitching on the gloves has faded. The sleeves of his grey button-up are rolled up to expose his forearms and the faded scars on the peach-colored fur from close calls with criminals in the past. The harsh sun overhead catches on the shiny five-pointed star on his hat, worn and faded from countless days in the sun. It does little to obscure the curious gleam in his eyes as they rake over your appearance. But it’s not an innocent curiosity, no– it’s the hungry kind. The kind that dissects you until you’re laid bare beneath him in the sandy dirt with no dignity or guise left to cover your exposed secrets.
Without taking his eyes off you, he begins to slowly, deliberately circle you. Despite being the one looking down on him upon your horse, you feel as if he’s the one that has the advantage right now. Not you. Ocean-blue quills twitch with every step, a far deeper and richer blue than you expected. Photographs wouldn’t do the color justice, you think. Not even the latest technology in daguerreotypes would be able to capture the rich hue that stayed vibrant despite the desert’s tendency to strip color away from everything until only a dusty shell remains.
The soft jingle of his golden spurs, caked with the red clay of the sand, are the only sound breaking the tense silence as the town watches with bated breath. The red neckerchief tied loosely around his neck, although sun-bleached, still bleeds as striking as a fresh gunshot wound. Like a warning as to what he was capable of. It flutters in the hot, arid breeze that offers no comfort from the sun beating down mercilessly or the strange sensation gripping your heart, making it hard to breathe.
He tilts his head to the side as he examines you unblinkingly, gaze slowly trailing over you from head to toe, until he straightens up and nods in your direction.
“I knew we’d be expectin’ new faces, but not this early. I’m the sheriff ‘round here. The name’s Sonic. What’s yours, sweetheart?”
His voice is a lot more boyish than you’d expect from someone of his position. You give him your name and he rolls it around, like he’s trying it on for size.
“A pretty name for a pretty thing like you. Guess I should consider myself lucky to be the first to welcome you.”
“A welcome from the sheriff himself?” you gasp, hoping he can’t hear the frantic pounding of your heart. “Oh, I’m in good hands now.”
He grins and tugs the brim of his hat lower, casting a sharp shadow over everything but the smug grin that tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Keep sweet talkin’ me like that, darlin’, and I might be a goner for good.”
You suddenly feel a little too hot beneath your layers. And you’re not wearing that much to begin with.
He extends his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, you take his hand. It’s like a spark of electricity has zapped you, running up your spine and setting your nerves abuzz. A soft gasp escapes you the same time his mouth slightly parts, surprise flickering in his eyes. His grip is strong but not painful, holding you steady as you hop off your horse. A small cloud of dust is kicked up beneath your feet as you land with a soft thump, but he doesn’t let go just yet. A thumb rubs over your knuckles as he bends and presses a kiss to the back of your hand, all while maintaining eye contact that’s one part vaguely unnerving and one part electrifying. His lips are rough and chapped from being in the sun all day against your hand, and they linger for a few seconds longer than what you would consider socially acceptable. When he does pull away, his lips ghost your skin as the smooth leather of his glove lingers on your fingertips and he lets go completely. Cool relief washes over you, alleviating you of the heat that was crawling up your neck and face.
Hushed whispers start up behind you and with a jolt, you remember you’re still surrounded. Embarrassment comes back with a vengeance, crawling through your body furiously and hand-in-hand with nervousness. Sonic’s quills twitch and he looks down at you. Something shifts in his eyes– he must’ve sensed your discomfort.
“Pack it up, nothin’ to see here,” he calls out, shooing away the curious citizens that still linger. You catch sharp grins concealed behind delicate gloved hands, ears pricked forward for juicy gossip already spreading like wildfires during the dry season.
“Look’s like the sheriff’s got a pretty lil’ thing on his hands now.”
“She reeks of trouble masked with sweet perfume.”
“I sure hope he doesn’t stray from the right path. Girls like her always leave men high and dry, I can tell.”
“Come on now, don’t make me repeat myself,” he calls out again, voice a little tighter this time. With another round of barbed laughter and whispers, the last of the ladies disperse, leaving nothing but the howl of arid wind behind. Sonic sighs and dusts some sand off your dress that, with a delayed reaction, you realize must’ve been intentionally kicked onto you.
“Now then, what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ around here all alone?” he asks as his hand rests at the small of your back. “Surely, your husband didn’t abandon you in the desert, right?”
This feels… oddly intimate, especially for someone you just met. You push it aside and deeply sigh, an expression of great longing and sadness crossing your face.
“I’m… a widow, Sheriff.”
His eyes widen and surprise washes over his face. His mouth parts slightly, forming an “o” shape that’s surprisingly cute.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
You hold up a hand to stop him. The simple wedding band around your ring finger glitters in the sweltering high noon sun. It’s one of the plainest rings you own in your expansive collection and you wouldn’t look twice in its direction normally, but it’s perfect for this job. He glances down and you don’t miss how his gaze lingers on the small cluster of diamonds. They’re small. Rough. The cut is of poor quality and gems like these are a dime a dozen. But it would’ve cost a fortune for a poor coal miner and be something his wife wears for the rest of her life with pride.
“I’m sure you heard of the town next door that had a mining accident lately?”
His brows furrow and his foot taps rapidly against the dirt as he thinks.
“The one where the tunnels collapsed and took the lives of everyone inside?”
You wince and shy away, as if merely hearing the news physically pained you.
“... Yes, that one,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “As misfortune would have it, my late husband was caught in the tunnels and-”
You turn your head and cover your eyes with your sleeve. A sharp sob escapes you and your shoulders tremble. He averts his gaze bashfully and while still sobbing into your sleeve, you grin. You shakily exhale after a few seconds and dab the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes away.
“I-I’m sorry. I know I should be gettin’ over it by now, but-”
He hands you a handkerchief silently. You wipe away the last of the crocodile tears before folding it neatly into a square and returning it to him, ensuring your touch lingers for a second longer than necessary.
“He left everythin’ he had to me– bless his heart– but there just wasn’t much to begin with. We were strugglin’ to get by already, and there’s no way I’d be able to live off what little he had saved up. So–” you heavily sigh and gesture to your bags– “I packed everythin’ up and left everythin’ I’d known behind in search of a new life.”
Your heart is pounding so violently out of anxiety you’re surprised he can’t hear it. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this; the fear that your lie won’t be believed is always a very real one. But, much to your relief, he nods in understanding after a few moments of silence.
“Well, darlin’, you’ve made the right decision comin’ here. This place will become home before ya even realize it.”
He straightens up and whistles sharply, the sound just as piercing as a gunshot.
“Cream! C’mere, I got a task for ya!”
A few seconds later, and a rabbit comes flying into view, her oversized ears acting as wings of sorts. With your consent, Sonic hands your horses over to her and sends them off to the stables with a pat on the back.
“That was my good buddy Cream,” he explains as he walks you to his office. “She’s the saloon owner’s daughter and manages the stables. She loves animals. Animals love her. It works out perfectly.”
You pass by the saloon and stop in your tracks. It’s a two story building, with olive green railings and window frames. As it’s only midday, it’s quiet and the batwing doors remain stubbornly shut. Yet you know that come evening, the place will transform and come alive with the sounds of drunken men and gambling.
“I’m ‘fraid this might be one of the only places you can find work,” sighs the sheriff behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder as he speaks. “Most other places simply don’t hire women.” You tense up imperceptibly at the contact, yet he seems to not have noticed it, as he looks up at the establishment as if realizing something.
“The saloon could always use more girls…” he mutters to himself, but your keen ears pick his words up. After a moment, his ears flick and he nods.
“Tell ya what. I’ll getcha set up with the Madame of this place after we fill out all the paperwork. The saloon is always short-staffed and I’m sure she’d appreciate another girl on board.”
His office is located on the edge of town, by the telegraph office and the county jail, which all happen to be conveniently grouped near the courthouse too. It’s a bit of a mess inside– fitting for his restless energy. There’s two empty holding cells in the back for those waiting to be processed and transferred to the jail next door. A desk with two chairs sits in the center of the room, presumably used for meeting with residents. Another larger desk is pushed against the wall to your right, which is covered in a pile of papers and a lever-action rifle tossed carelessly atop the mess. Spare horseshoes, handcuffs, and a lasso are hung on the nails protruding from the wall, while dog-eared wanted posters are plastered across the corkboard. The one with the highest bounty depicts an intense looking hedgehog scowling at the viewer with anger so fierce it almost burns, even in illustration.
The world of crime is a surprisingly small one. Maybe you’ll ask Rouge if she knows anything about him later.
To your left is a filing cabinet that spans almost the entire length of the wall, most likely containing documents for all the residents in town. He stops in front of it to dig up some papers, while you continue looking around. There’s a door in the corner that leads to another room– his bedroom after you catch a glimpse of the unmade bed. The room looks barebones from the small window on the door giving you a glimpse into it, with minimal decoration aside from a guitar leaning against the wall.
He takes a seat at his desk and pulls the chair out for you. You sit facing him, legs crossed at the ankles and hands folded politely in your lap— the very image of a well-mannered lady. It’s standard stuff you’re filling out– proof of citizenship, basic information about yourself, whatever whatever.
“As for proof of residency… hmm,” he says as he shuffles through the stack of paperwork. “If you’re workin’ at the saloon, most likely you’ll be livin’ there alongside the other–”
“No need,” you interrupt. “I have enough money left to rent out a room at the hotel.”
He stops shuffling through the paperwork and looks up at you.
“Really?”
He says that like he doesn’t believe you- or rather, he suspects you of something.
“Heaven forbid a lady wants her privacy,” you scoff, looking the other way as your heart rate spikes. It’s uncommon, but not unheard of for this to happen. Hopefully he doesn’t ask too many questions. He merely laughs and signs off on the slip, before placing it back into the pile. All done. Time to go now. He leans back in his chair and watches as you get up, eyes briefly lingering on the hint of exposed cleavage when you bend over to gather your bags, looking away just in time when you stand up straight again.
“Relax, I ain’t out to get ya, sweet thing. Come along now. If luck would have it, the Madame should be at the saloon and we can get you workin’ as soon as tonight.”
His words repeat in your mind on the walk there. Sweet thing. It takes all your willpower to keep walking in a straight line despite your legs feeling weak. He’s smiling all the while; you’re not sure whether that’s his usual demeanor shining through or amusement at seeing through your act.
“Miss Vanilla? Are you home?”
The saloon is silent for a few moments until a door swings open in the back, and out steps a tall rabbit. A lazy, pleasant grin decorates her face as she comes to a stop, the kind that you’d find on someone’s friendly grandma. She wears a wide-brimmed hat, decorated with fresh flowers that leave a sweet floral trail of scent in her wake, and a lacy parasol rests against her shoulder. She looks kind enough. But you know better than to blindly trust others, especially based on appearances.
“Sheriff,” she greets calmly, as if she’s been expecting him. “How can I help you?”
He takes his hat off and presses it to his chest, dipping his head in greeting.
“Got a sweet angelica for you right ‘ere. She’s lookin’ for a job and I’d reckon you’d fix her up juuust right.”
Her gaze shifts to you and she hums. Though that smile remains on her face, something in her eyes sharpen as they rake over your form. You get the feeling she’s appraising you, much like how you or Rouge would for a selling price estimate of a precious gem.
“What is your name?”
You give her your name. The only response is a nod.
“Are you literate?”
“To an extent. Don’t go askin’ me to read and write some smarty-pants stuff, though.”
“Enough to write down drink orders?”
“Pssh. Yes.”
She seems to be growing more and more pleased with each answer. Perhaps finding a literate girl out here is like striking gold.
“Can you dance?”
“Set a tune and I’ll dance at the drop of a hat if you please.”
She’s all but beaming at this point. You’re mastered all the desirable traits of a saloon girl– pretty, literate just enough to not seem like a bumbling fool and a tarnish on the Madame’s image, and intelligent enough to keep men hooked but not enough to pose a threat to them. A piece of cake and all in a day’s work for a master of disguise like you.
“Lastly… are you a virgin?”
This one comes out of the left field. A scandalized gasp escapes you. Heat flares in your cheeks, all too aware of the man standing shoulder to shoulder with you.
“H-How forward of you!” you exclaim. Sonic merely laughs and places his hat back on his head, stepping outside momentarily. Once he’s gone, you turn back to the Madame and shyly nod.
(A lie told straight through your teeth. You’ve slept with men multiple times before to extract information out of them. It’s part of the job description; you and Rouge using your bodies to your advantage. But how would she know?)
She raises an eyebrow. Suspicion clouds her features.
“You have a ring on your finger. Surely, you and your husband have…?”
“Madame, I am a widow.”
The unexpected revelation surprises her, eyes going wide and eyebrows raising.
“I also have no children,” you point out. “I think that should be enough proof, no?”
A pause hangs in the air as she considers your words. Finally, she seems to accept your explanation. Your hair is parted with a fine-tooth comb and examined for lice. A measuring tape is wound around your body as she takes your measurements and writes them down. She inspects your eyes, then your teeth, then your nailbeds, before pulling away.
“You have a good eye, Sheriff. I’ll take this one and shape her up to be a proper lady.”
Though your disguise remains unshakeable, an imperceptible chill runs down your spine at the way she says it. A hand pushes the batwing doors open and his head peeks inside. Your unease must’ve been written all over your face, because he flashes two thumbs ups and a reassuring grin your way. How childish.
“Don’t be too harsh on her!” he calls out as you’re led into the back, hands cupped over his mouth. “I know of your methods, Madame Vanilla!”
“I won’t,” she giggles, her voice light and melodic. It somehow unsettles you even more.
She hums, eyes closed, and the doors swing shut again. A menu is thrust into your hand the moment you can no longer hear his footsteps.
“Memorize this front to back before sundown tonight. Your shift begins at five. I expect to see you on time.”
She leaves, layers of petticoats and skirts swishing in her wake, and you’re left to frantically commit the menu to memory, front to back.
Rouge, just what exactly have you signed me up for?
The sun begins to go down. Rather than retiring for the night, though, the town comes to life as the men come home from a long day of work. Kerosene lamps are lit behind windows for wives to welcome home their husbands. All unmarried men foot traffic is directed toward the town saloon; the warm lights and the promise of a good time with one of the many beauties there too tempting to ignore.
For you, however, your day is just starting. Makeup palettes lie open and scattered across the vanity from when Rouge was excitedly doing your makeup. You stare at your reflection in the mirror and tighten your corset with a sharp huff. Showtime. All eyes will be on you tonight as the new girl in town, especially that sheriff– if he decides to show up. Hopefully you can weaponize that and squeeze some information out of him.
Rouge whistles from where she lounges atop the bed.
“Looking good, hot stuff. Butter that sheriff up into buying a few drinks tonight and he’ll be all over you like a dog to a bone.”
She laughs at her own joke and rolls over, staring up at the ceiling in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint.
“Imagine that. The dutiful sheriff caught sleeping with the pretty stranger from who knows where. Sounds like the plot of one of those shitty romance novels I catch you leafing through– ack!”
The cushion you toss hits home, hitting Rouge square in the forehead. She dissolves into a peal of hysteric giggles, kicking her feet in the air as you scoff and roll your eyes.
“Whatever. I’m leaving. Don’t go causing a ruckus now.
You leave the hotel out the back door, scurrying across the alley and climbing the stairs leading up to the second floor of the saloon in the back. The hinges squeal as you force the door open, before it slams shut with a sudden force behind you. It’s dark up here, and somewhat dusty too. You cough and sneeze after just a few seconds. There’s several doors along the hallway and you quickly realize this must be where the girls live, just from the strong smell of perfume alone. Already, you can hear the sounds of the men downstairs vying for the attention of the girl on the floor and the out-of-tune piano drifting upstairs faintly.
The door to your left opens and out steps a purple cat, fur styled in an elaborate updo of feathers and silver combs. She stops and stares at you in the doorway silently, her gaze stoic yet with a hint of suspicion peeking through.
“... You must be the new girl the Madame hired earlier today,” she says. You merely nod.
“First day on the job and she’s already got you working? No training or anything?”
“A lil’ bit. But hardly ‘nuff to be considered practical.”
Her yellow eyes give you a once over before a frown tugs at her lacquered lips.
“That skirt of yours is too long. The Madame might not say anything about it, but the men certainly won’t appreciate it and it’ll be reflected in your earnings after tonight. Come here.”
Damn. You overshot your estimate for acceptable skirt lengths around here. She beckons you into her room and you follow. She motions for you to take a seat on the footstool as she goes digging through one of her many drawers. The whole room is dripping with extravagance and money, but also cleanliness and order. The white high pile rug in the center of the room, despite its color, is pristine and fluffy. The bed has been made perfectly, with pillows piled high and clean sheets. Every exposed surface has been cleaned off to the point where you can’t spot even a speck of dust. An assortment of expensive perfumes sit on her vanity and some equally expensive makeup palettes too.
“Stand up,” she orders. “Hold your skirt out.”
You do as she says. With a steady hand, she cuts off a good length of the fabric and hems it quickly. The whole alteration takes less than five minutes.
“... Thank you,” you say as you take in your appearance in the elaborate floor-length mirror. She merely offers a nod as she returns the sewing kit back to its original spot.
“What’s your name?”
“... Blaze,” she says after a moment of hesitation. She gestures for you to face her with a curl of her fingers.
“Take this,” she says, pressing a bejeweled dagger into the palm of your hand. You already have a gun hiding in your boot tops but you slide the dagger between your cleavage without a word. Once you’re done, she leaves the room without a word to follow her. With a start, you hurry to catch up to her. She moves surprisingly fast.
“It’s for your own good,” she says once you’re back at her side. “Men never change and it’s only worse when they’re drunk.”
She closes her eyes. The sound of piano music and tipsy men grow louder as you descend the stairs.
“You will shadow me for tonight,” Blaze declares, and her voice leaves no room for argument. “I will teach you everything you need to know, but you will be on your own from here on out. Rule number one: always wear a smile, even if the last thing you want to do is be nice. The men will complain to the Madame about a sullen girl. I know, because I have seen it happen.”
She sighs and looks off to the side.
“That’s how the last girl here got fired. A sweet thing, but rather serious and wore her heart on her sleeve, including anger… I would hate to see the same thing happen twice in a row.”
Blaze shakes her head, fur accessories jingling like bells.
“Rule number two, always try and sweet talk the men into buying a more expensive drink, but do so at your own risk. Yes, a higher quantity or quality of drinks sold equals a higher commission, but you never know how a man will behave once he is drunk out of his mind. Rule number three, almost all mistakes and oversights can be forgiven as long as you act charming enough. Not so much on the Madame’s part, but especially effective with the men. Blow them a kiss after delivering the wrong drinks and they will be slobbering all over you like a dog to a bone.”
She stops to examine her appearance in an oval-shaped mirror hanging on the wall.
“And the most important rule of them all: never let a man take you to bed. We are saloon girls, not prostitutes. It does not matter what price he is offering. Always refuse. It reflects badly on the Madame and she will kick you to the streets if you do so. Although…”
Blaze glances at you out of the corner of her eye.
“... You aren’t living here, so I suppose if it does end up happening, she will never know as long as you keep it a secret.”
Your thoughts drift to a certain blue hedgehog and your knees threaten to buckle and give out beneath you. You wobble mid-step, and Blaze gives you a weird look.
You descend the last flight of stairs and now you’re standing on the main floor of the saloon. A purple chameleon is tending the bar and arguing with a customer. A red echidna stands by the door, arms crossed over his chest and gaze sweeping over the floor periodically. His eyes, upon landing on you in the back, narrow suspiciously, and it takes the bartender calling him over for him to stop staring at you.
“That’s Knuckles. Ignore him,” mutters Blaze as she watches him argue with that same customer, before he grabs them by the ear with a start and practically tosses them out of the saloon. “He’s our bouncer and while he seems scary, he’s actually very shy around women. Don’t tell him I said that though.”
“Then why’s he working in a place overflowing with women?”
“He has to put those muscles to use somehow,” she guesses with a shrug. “I suppose it’s also an excuse for him to let off some steam. You saw the way he threw that unfortunate gentleman out the door with one hand.”
“You know quite a lot about working here,” you offhandedly remark.
“I’ve been here for quite a while.”
“Then, who’s been here the longest?”
Blaze points her fan at a pink hedgehog weaving between tables. Pleas for a second of her attention and wandering hands follow her as she delivers drinks and briefly sits down at games of poker to wish the men good luck. She never lingers in one place for more than a few seconds, but it’s enough to give the men a taste and have them hooked for more.
“See her? That’s Amy. She’s the most experienced of all the girls here, and a crowd favorite for good reason.”
“Even with the sheriff?”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Already vying for the sheriff’s attention? You will have stiff competition in that department.”
You merely scoff and look the other way.
“Merely wonderin’. She seems like his type of girl. Sweet ‘n cheerful ‘n all.”
“She’s everybody’s type of girl,” mutters Blaze as her narrowed yellow eyes linger on Amy for a few more seconds. “You would be hard-pressed to find a man in this town who doesn’t want a piece of her.”
When she notices you still staring at Amy, she lightly smacks your arm with her fan.
“Enough gawking. Let me introduce you to the rest of the staff.”
She leads you over to the bar, periodically stopping to greet a man or blow a kiss to those who whistle at her. The purple chameleon you spotted earlier looks up as he pours a shot of whiskey. He greets Blaze with a respectful nod, then turns toward you.
“I’m Espio, the bartender. Did the Madame make you try and memorize all the drinks?”
When you sadly nod, he laughs.
“Don’t take it to heart. She does this to every new girl and most patrons get the same one or two drinks anyway. If you have questions, just come to me.”
His voice is smooth and measured, every bit of him a gentleman. It helps ease your first day jitters somewhat. Blaze excuses herself and leads you over to where Knuckles is standing guard by the entrance again. The only acknowledgement you get from him is a side eye and an annoyed-sounding grunt.
“Don’t bother,” he says bluntly, cutting Blaze off. “I already know who you are. Everyone does. I’m Knuckles. Send any and all persistent customers my way. I’ll handle ‘em.”
After a word with Madame Vanilla, Blaze motions for you to follow her around on the floor and with that, your first shift begins. It’s a simple job, really. Smile nicely, bat your eyelashes all pretty at the men, push your cleavage forward and let their starved eyes feast on what they can’t have as you lean forward to deliver drinks. Let your dress ride up your thigh and your garter belts snap against the flesh as you pull on them. Go down a size with your stockings so they squeeze the soft plush of your thighs and hike up your skirts to give the men a good show. Show off your assets– but not too much since you’re only supposed to give them a taste– don’t spill your drinks, and you’ll be golden.
“Got a lil’ shadow there now huh, Blaze?” slurs a patron as he kicks his feet onto the table and tips his head back to look up at the purple cat. The other drinks on the table slosh over the rims and the other patrons grumble and glare, but the bastard doesn’t care. He’s too infatuated with Blaze standing above him, a dopey, drunken smile stretching across his face like she’s the best thing he’s seen all day. Probably is, from the dirt caked onto his boots and the lines of exhaustion etched onto his face.
“Now, now, be nice,” she chides, gently swatting his bicep with her fan. “You remember what I was like when I first started, yes?”
“Can’t make any promises,” he mumbles, glancing over at you. His eyes are already bloodshot and glassy and the stench of alcohol on his breath wafts over you. “Especially when she’s just as pretty of a thing as you are.”
The doors swing open. The pianist is the first to see who the newcomer is. His eyes go wide and he bungles a chord, causing the rest of the saloon to stop and stare. And stare they do. Games of poker are forgotten about as they stare at the newcomer and it’s so silent you can hear the squeak of Espio’s dishrag as he polishes glasses. But the silence is soon shattered by whispers and wide-eyed expressions, patrons straightening up and trying their best to seem sober, even as they sway while seated and hiccup loudly.
“It’s the sheriff…”
“You think he’s here ‘cuz he found out I swindled a bunch of rings from my neighbor the other day?”
“If he didn’t know before now he does! Shaddup!”
Blaze looks as surprised as someone of her reserved nature can get. You nudge her in the side, all without taking your eyes off him as he plops down at a table halfway through a round of poker. He takes his hat off and hangs it on the back of his chair, seemingly oblivious to the way the saloon has come to a complete standstill now that he’s here. The three other men are completely frozen and he laughs at their stupefied expressions.
“What’s with the surprise? I thought I was a familiar face by now?”
“Does he come ‘round here often?” you ask under your breath. It takes Blaze a few seconds to recover from her stupor as the other men nervously laugh along with him.
“He’s not exactly a regular per say… but he does come around here often enough for us to remember his drink of choice.”
You watch as Amy sets down a glass in front of him. Whiskey, on the rocks. The color is a deeper, richer brown than the rest of the whiskey being served. Stronger and more expensive, reserved for the wealthy in town– and him too. On the house as well from how Amy politely declines the rings he offers as payment.
The next round of poker begins and he seamlessly joins the game, pushing a couple of his chips forward into the pot. Slowly, the usual ruckus of the saloon builds back up again. The pianist works up the courage to resume his playing, ragtime filling the space. The chatter of other patrons returns as they attempt to refocus on their games of poker, eyes constantly flickering between the pot at their table and the sheriff just a few paces away. While the rest of the saloon girls carry on with work as usual, you see the way they’re suddenly more aware of what they’re doing. Blaze’s back is ramrod straight now. Amy’s grip on her tray as she delivers drinks is tighter, and of course– Madame Vanilla is in the back watching all the girls, including you, with a warning in her eyes to be on your best behavior. You fight back an eye roll and instead, deliver some shots of whiskey to a table of men who leer at your exposed cleavage without shame.
Sonic examines his hand with an impassive expression before setting them face-down back on the table and looking around. He greets everyone that meets his gaze with a nod and a whistled compliment if they were a lady. Those are always accompanied by batted lashes and dreamy sighs, with some irritated grumbles from the men who know they’re in no position to say anything.
“Isn’t he just perfect?” sighs a new voice next to you. Your gaze flicks over to see Amy fawning at the sight of the sheriff. A blush dusts her cheeks and even the tips of her ears.
“You got a thing for him?”
“Who doesn’t? Chivalrous, a sweet-talker, a kind heart… he’s the man of every woman’s dreams! Including mine, teehee.”
(You don’t miss the envious looks on the faces of the men within earshot.)
His emerald gaze sweeps around to your section of the saloon. He greets Amy with a sharp whistle and a compliment on her new dress (she starts giggling uncontrollably and her tail starts wagging so furiously you swear she’ll start flying), but, oh then he looks at you. He freezes mid-pose, arm still extended and pointing at Amy before his cheery smile drops into something… hungrier. Knowing. A cold chill washes over you even though you’re sweltering beneath your dress. Much to your horror, he sets his glass down and gets up, spurs clinking in time with his steps as he approaches you. All eyes are on him and the chatter dies down with each step he takes until the saloon is dead silent again when he’s face to face with you. His emerald eyes burn brighter than the kerosene lamps as they rake over your form appreciatively, lingering on your exposed cleavage and garter belts. A low whistle pierces the air like the hiss of a rattlesnake as he nods in approval.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You did show up tonight. And while lookin’ like a delight for sore eyes, might I add.”
You laugh. Even to your ears, it sounds high-pitched and too loud. Nervous. Guilty. Your facade is slipping.
“Well, I don’t make promises I don’t follow through on, Sheriff.”
He tilts his head up and looks down on you through half-lidded eyes, smug as ever. The hazy lights of the saloon feel a little too bright and hot all of a sudden.
“Then can you promise me a dance tonight?”
The laugh that escapes you is one part disbelief and one part… something else that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. His snaggle-toothed grin stretches wider at the sound, seemingly pleased.
“I don’t work for free, Sheriff.”
“I’ll make it worth your while. Promise.”
“Begging won’t get you anywhere.”
Sonic groans and rubs his face with his hands.
“Yer really gonna make a man work for it, huh? Have some mercy, at least.”
You merely smirk and wag your finger at him. He laughs, and the act falls immediately. He takes out a sack of rings and lets it fall onto the table with a loud thud, the impact shaking the stacked poker chips.
“Will this satisfy you, sweetheart?”
Gasps erupt around you and you catch barely-concealed jealousy and greed in their eyes. Wandering hands crawl toward the sack (and your body) and Blaze has to smack them away. You stare at the rings, rooted to the ground. Money isn’t a concern for you. Your bank account back in the big city is loaded to the gills in cash alone, gemstones and other valuables you have yet to bid notwithstanding. Rouge is also the one more akin to a pickpocketer between the two of you, and yet…
You push the rings back at him. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“This reeks of bribery.”
He scoffs and pushes the rings back toward you. You push them back. Tension crackles in the air between you, waiting to see who would let up first.
“Don’t be like that. Think of it as a little… gift. From yours truly.”
Sonic grabs your wrist and plops the bag into your hand, refusing to let go of you until you finally relent. Barely even a fight.
“You give the girls gifts?” you ask as you pocket them.
“Sure, I make it a point to treat the girls here to a lil’ somethin’ every now and then. Amy’s favorite pair of silk stockings she just so happens to be wearin’ right now were a gift from me.”
You look over your shoulder to see her dancing arm in arm with a man who looks like he could die happy right now. Even at this distance, you can tell they’re of decent quality.
“How’d you get her measurements?”
Sonic shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“The Madame gave ‘em to me upon request.”
You think back to earlier in the day when she had taken your measurements, and you’re not sure how to feel all of a sudden.
“Blaze’s favorite red lipstick? The shade she wears almost every night? Got a tube for her after she mentioned she was runnin’ low one night. But as for you, sweet thing… hm, I’m actually stumped.”
He leans forward, propping his elbows up on the table and resting his chin on his interlocked hands. Green irises darken as his eyes narrow, drinking in your form, and his quills subtly twitch as his head tilts to the side.
“The picture-perfect image of elegance… You look like a lady chasin’ that comfy city-girl life. Fine dresses, jewelry…”
He nods and hums in agreement with his own words. Then, in a rasp so low only you can hear it—
“Gemstones, perhaps?”
Your heart stops, and you feel like you’re seconds away from a heart attack. The wolfish expression vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by a cheeky and boyish grin, but the image haunts your mind. It’s like a completely different man sitting before you; one that only rears its true nature around you.
“Now, what ever gave you that idea, Sheriff?” you manage with a shaky laugh on the last syllable. He hums and downs the shot of whiskey in one go, sliding the empty glass across the table. You deftly stop it right at the edge before it falls to the ground and place it back on your tray.
“Well… diamonds are a girl’s best friend, after all. Doesn’t that string of ‘em around your neck prove it?”
“They’re no diamonds, Sheriff. What makes you think I could afford ‘em?” you call over your shoulder as you walk back to the bar. Espio sees you coming a mile away and a new shot of whiskey is already waiting for you.
(Those are real diamonds around your neck, but that’s a secret only you and Rouge are privy too. The cheapest, lowest-grade cut of them you own, bought just for the sake of blending in during this heist.)
“The sheriff is a very interesting man, no?” asks Espio as you swap out the empty glass for a new one. His eyes gleam with something knowing as he looks over your shoulder, at the man himself. Sonic shows his hand, and the men at the table groan. He snickers as he rakes the pot in.
“A very perceptive one too,” you admit with a sigh. “How much does he know?”
Espio merely smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“More than you’d expect from a man of his nature.”
All the men have gotten off work now and the saloon is packed. You stand off to Sonic’s side, hands folded in front of you, with all your attention on him rather than the game playing out. Ice clinks around in glasses and condensation drips onto the worn wooden tables. Absent-minded hands knock over drinks as they immerse themselves in the game, sticky alcohol spilling onto the tables and floor and making it even harder to walk without feeling like your high heels are sliding off. Glasses hit the tables with a soft thump as girls deliver replacements, always accompanied by wolf whistles and lust-driven wandering hands, fueled by the lowered inhibitions brought on by the alcohol.
And even with the drunken chaos and gambling happening around you, your attention remains focused on the sheriff. He leans back in his chair, shoulders slumped and legs spread lazily as he examines his hand. You can’t resist a peek over his shoulder– a full house. He stands a decent chance for this round. His ear twitches and he looks up over his shoulder at you, making you freeze at the sudden movement.
“Bein’ nosy, aren’t ya? If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve mistaken you for a little spy.”
Little spy. Your blood runs cold and you cover it up by feigning humiliation, awkwardly laughing and averting your gaze.
How much does he know?
He hums amusedly, as if he enjoys seeing you like this– an anxious, bumbling mess. The perfect image of a nervous girl on the first day of her new job.
“Atta girl. Which is why it’s important for you to learn the rules of the game. C’mere.”
With a hungry grin, he pats his leg slowly. An invitation. Your breath catches in your throat. The rest of your body remains frozen as you glance around the floor. No one else seems to have caught his gesture. The two other men at the table are arguing with each other. Espio is swamped with drink orders. Knuckles is a second away from throwing someone out. Blaze is teaching a lecherous customer a lesson with a few choice words. Sonic rolls a poker chip across his knuckles and beckons you forward with a curl of his fingers. With no way of refusing, you lean in until your ear is at his mouth.
“My patience won’t last forever,” he whispers tauntingly, low enough for only you to hear it.
You risk another glance around the room. Everyone else is either too drunk or trying to dodge advances to pay any attention to you. Even Madame Vanilla, who’s being sweet-talked by a crocodile trying not to trip over his words and feet.
With a resigned sigh, you lower yourself into his lap. A strong arm immediately snakes around your waist, squeezing you tight like an angry rattlesnake, and holding you against him with no wiggle room. He’s warm, heart beating loudly and steadily beneath his chest as you try and make yourself comfortable. His gloved hand, previously resting atop your stomach, drifts down to lightly squeeze your thigh, making goosebumps erupt beneath his touch. One finger ghosts the hem of your stocking, light and teasing and keeping you on your toes.
“Why so stiff? I don’t bite. Unless ya want me to, that is.”
Sonic laughs at his own joke. You muster an awkward smile. His touch gets under your skin more than you’d like to admit.
You stay nestled in his lap for the rest of the game, like a lucky charm for him to show off. Madame Vanilla gives you a look once she sees you in his lap, but relents when he tugs you back down as you try to get up.
“Stay.”
It’s not a request.
Drinks keep getting delivered to the table. The other men are practically drowning in booze, swaying side to side and eyes unfocused. He’s nowhere near as far gone, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears are flushed. A finger slips beneath your garter strap, pulling at the flimsy strip of fabric like it personally offends him. Like he wants it off.
“Sheriff, I think you’ve had too much to drink,” you whisper. He merely grunts and holds you tighter. His finger stubbornly stays there beneath your garter strap.
“‘M fine,” he grumbles as the community cards are dealt face-up. His eyes flick over them, then down to his own hand. “Not drunk. Yet.”
Everyone else folds, perhaps realizing they wouldn’t be able to afford their next trip here if they don’t, except for one other guy. He glares Sonic down, hiccuping and eyes so bloodshot it looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. His beady eyes dart to you nestled snugly in his lap and he practically starts foaming at the mouth out of… jealousy, if you had to guess.
“Ya lucky bastard,” he spits out, drool dribbling out the corner of his mouth. “Winnin’ this game by a landslide and with a pretty thing in your arms. Sickens me.”
Sonic doesn’t take offense. Rather, he takes it all in stride. He tips his head back and laughs loudly, squeezing your hip tighter beneath the table.
“I like your spirit! Bring it on!”
Bets are placed. Sonic matches the drunkard’s bets without hesitation until the latter can raise it no more. Beads of sweat drip down his leathery face as more community cards are dealt, while Sonic’s poker face remains impassive. His hand is conveniently kept out of your sight and to your surprise, he raises the bet. Though the drunkard across the table is flushed redder than the color of the sky at sunset, you swear he pales. He grits his teeth and folds.
The third round of betting begins. Sonic folds this round, and the drunkard lunges at the chances to raise the bet by an incredible amount. He laughs to himself, sounding more like a dying wheeze.
“I win, Sheriff! Get ready to pay up!”
Sonic merely smiles, something enigmatic that unsettles you– like he already knows how everything will play out. He raises the bet in the final round and after a beat of anticipation, reveals his hand the same time as the drunkard does. A moment of silence falls over the table as the realization dawns. It’s his full house against Sonic’s royal flush. The sheriff wins the game.
The other men bemoan at their losses as he rakes the pot in, eyeing the pile of rings with longing and greed. Sonic laughs and claps them on the back.
“Tough luck! Maybe next time, gentlemen.”
They grab their hats, grumbling under their breaths and shooting him dirty looks on the way out. Sonic merely laughs and leans back in his chair, a hand lazily stroking your thigh as the thrill of the game dies down. He tosses a couple of rings at the drunkard hobbling away, but he smacks them away.
“Don’t want yer dirty money,” he hisses before hobbling out of the saloon. Barely a few seconds pass after the doors swing shut when there’s a loud thump. Sonic rolls his eyes, taking another swig of his whiskey as he looks away.
“You’re not going to help him?” you ask. He shakes his head and watches as Knuckles stomps out the door.
“‘M off the clock now,” he mumbles, resting his head against yours and shutting his eyes. “Nothin’ Knuckles can’t handle either.”
With the rings he just won, he buys a drink for you behind Madame Vanilla’s back, winking and motioning for you to stay silent. You sip on it when she isn’t looking as the Sheriff plays with your hair and the dangling bits of your clothes and jewelry.
“Y’know,” he begins, finger trailing over the underside of your jawline. It takes all your effort to not shudder at the brush of smooth, warm leather. “I never heard a no to that dance–”
Amy sharply gasps as she passes by your table. Her eyes rake over your form nestled securely in his lap and you catch longing reflected in the green irises, and perhaps even a hint of jealousy.
“A dance?” she exclaims loudly, grabbing the attention of anyone still conscious. “Oh, you lucky girl!”
No way out of this now, but he looks far more eager than you feel. He gets to his feet, practically yanking you up with him, and leads you out to the dance floor.
“Must be the luckiest man alive,” he muses as the music starts. A hand rests on the small of your back and pulls you in close– a bit closer than necessary, in your opinion. “Can’t believe I scored a dance with ya.”
“Sheriff, you seem to be conveniently forgetting that I never agreed to this.”
“... Well,” he coughs out. “Here’s your chance to leave. Although…”
His hand slides off the small of your back. You’re free to go now. And yet, you don’t move. Something compels you to stay on the dance floor. Is it the groove of the music making its way into your bones and urging you to dance anyway? Maybe it’s all the eyes on you that would surely judge you for the rest of the week if you turn down a dance with the sheriff. Or maybe it’s—
“... I’d really be thrilled if you indulged me.”
His hopeful and bashful voice is the trigger you need that makes you forget about everything else. You turn back toward him, pressing your hand into his. An invitation for him to accept. A sharp intake of breath, only audible to you, is the only sign of his surprise, before it morphs into something tender as his other hand slides up your back again.
“I must’ve done something absolutely amazin’ for this to happen,” he murmurs like he’s in a daze. You quietly chuckle.
“Or perhaps you’re just lucky.”
“I’d say this is outside the realm of luck now, sweetheart. But if so, I must’ve been blessed by Lady Luck ‘erself.”
Beady-eyed, jealous men watch his every move, wishing it was them up there instead of him. But even as their eyes burn holes into your backs, he leads you through the dance expertly. Liquid courage is surging through your veins, even though you haven’t had that much to drink tonight, and you boldly meet his gaze, holding it as he continues to sway in time to the music and spin you around without missing a beat. The usual barely-restrained explosive energy in them is soft now, like the lingering flashes of lightning that hardly illuminate the sky after an intense thunderstorm. Likewise, the electric green of his irises is warm and hazy now, just like the saloon lights bathing the edges of your tiny world in a soft glow.
“Is there somethin’ on my face, Sheriff? You keep starin’,” you whisper. He laughs softly.
“Nope. Just enjoyin’ the view.”
He dips you back as the piano reaches a crescendo. Warm breath tinged with the scent of whiskey fanning across your face and tickles your eyelashes. Is he drunk– or at least tipsy? His cheeks and the tips of his ears are faintly pink, but the sharp focus in his eyes belies your impressions.
“I think you’re enjoyin’ this a biiiit more than you should, Sheriff.”
He raises an eyebrow and leans in closer.
“Don’t hear ya complainin’, though.”
He pulls you flush against him, not an inch of space between your bodies as the music ends. There’s a faint smattering of applause, far less than a dance of this nature would receive– perhaps out of jealousy or shock at how bold he was with his advances. Sonic looks out the window and after seeing the color of the sky, puts his hat back on. Something tugs at your heart at the sight, and your face falls.
“Leavin’ already?”
Your voice comes out a lot more disappointed-sounding than you expected. He laughs at the equally-pitiful expression on your face and pats your head, taking care to avoid ruining your hairdo.
“Can’t stay in one place for long. That’s just the kinda guy I am. Although…”
He tugs the brim of his hat lower to obscure his eyes and looks around the saloon, avoiding your gaze, and is that a blush you see crawling up his neck?
“... I might stop by here more often from now on.”
The doors swing shut with a quiet creak behind him and in his absence, the saloon suddenly feels too silent. The air hangs still and even the other patrons seem dazed.
“First day on the job, and you’re already the sheriff’s favorite girl. I can’t tell if you’re blessed or just cursed,” remarks Blaze, who silently snuck up on you, as you both watch him leave.
“This feels like a curse somehow,” you croak, throat drier than the desert this town is situated in. You can still feel traces of him on you– the condensation on your fingertips from his drink, the ghostly warmth of his hand resting on the small of your back, and his scent invading your senses like a guest overstaying their welcome. He smelled like the great outdoors; ozonic like the thunder rumbling on the horizon of an approaching storm, but also dry and sandy like the desert, with a hint of tobacco and gunpowder clinging to him. It leaves you feeling on edge even now after he’s gone, but in a good way– a tingly sort of way.
And with that, your first day of work comes to an eventful end. On the walk back, the realization of what you were supposed to do hits you like an anvil and you nearly stumble.
You were supposed to get information from him. And you walked out empty-handed.
You all but crumple under the weight of your failure. Rouge isn’t going to be happy when she hears about this…
… Or so you think. She’s lounging atop the bed lazily when you return, as if she’s been expecting you.
“Welcome back. How’d your first day of work go– hey, why the long face?”
You’re hunched over like an old lady as you trudge toward the bed, face-planting into the sheets next to her.
“I-I’m sorry, Rouge,” you snivel. “I didn’t get any information out of him tonight…”
Silence hangs in the air, before she… laughs? You tilt your head up to peek at her with one teary eye.
“Why, you…” she wheezes out between laughs. “Always been dedicated to a fault, but I can hardly get mad at you for it.”
She helps you into an upright position and wipes away your tears with a handkerchief.
“Don’t beat yourself up over tonight, honey. I was expecting this. Saw it coming a mile away.”
“... What?”
She laughs and dries the last of your tears.
“You and blue boy over there got some serious chemistry. I’d be more surprised– and disappointed– if nothing happened tonight. Chin up. We still have a month to gather information. And how much time do I need?”
“Rouge only needs five minutes,” you mumble, her catchphrase ingrained into you by now. She laughs and begins wiping off your makeup with a gentle and steady hand.
“Exactly. We can steal the goods and get you a sweet fling with the sheriff in less time than it’d take for your new mail-order dress to arrive. Just leave it to me, m’kay?”
That night, you dream of green lightning and gale winds.
The rumors surrounding you never quite go away. There’s always a whisper in the piss-soaked alleys that you’re a cheap street whore; a dirty good-for-nothing sent to ruin their upstanding sheriff, but they go from rumors in plain daylight to something only the drunken dare to bring up with no one listening.
It’s a slow, lazy start one morning. The calendar on the nightstand shows that two weeks have gone by ever since your arrival, leaving you with just over another two until the expo date, circled in red. Rouge is still fast asleep when you leave the hotel. Your first stop is the stables to check on your horses and to take them on their routine morning ride. Cream is taking good care of them; they’re in high spirits and eagerly accept your treat of sugar cubes, eating them out of the palm of your hand.
“Wanna go for a ride, sweet girl?”
Your mare perks up and nods. You saddle her with a laugh and you’re off. Cream waves to you as she takes her post at the entrance to the stables for the day, and your horse gives her a little kiss as she walks past.
Sandy dust is kicked up in your wake as you leave the town limits. Your mare quickly breaks into a moderately-paced gallop, covering several paces of the desert in a single stride. For a while, it’s just you, your horse, and the sound of her hooves hitting the sand, when you spot another rider on the horizon amidst the early morning sun having just risen. You tense, hand reaching for the gun at your hip, and aim. Your horse snorts and comes to a sudden stop, ears pulling forward and staring intently at the rapidly approaching horse and rider. They come to a stop a few paces before you and to your surprise, it’s the sheriff, covered in a light layer of sand already and panting slightly from exertion.
“Sheriff?” you exclaim, scrambling to lower your gun.
“Mornin’! What’s got you up so early?” he asks cheerfully, as if you weren’t just aiming a fully-loaded revolver at him.
“... Just an early morning ride to start my day.”
His horse leans forward and sniffs at yours curiously. Yours blows a big gust of air from her nose in response before pulling away with a whinny. It seems as if they like each other…?
He tilts the brim of his hat up and squints in the direction where you came from.
“We’re a ways out from town. Follow me. I’ll lead ya back home.”
Your mare keeps trying to bite his horse’s tail on the way back despite your best efforts. Eventually, you give up. If she gets kicked, she gets kicked.
“What were you doing out here so early, Sheriff?” you ask as you tug on the reins to have her trail a few more paces behind.
“Early mornin’ patrol,” he responds without missing a beat. “There’s been an uptick in bandits and petty thieves around ‘ere now that news of the expo has spread all over the country. I really got mah work cut out for me now.”
The mention of other thieves makes your eye twitch. That treasure is yours! No way are you letting them beat you and Rouge to it!
“But don’t worry!” he says, most likely mistaking your extended silence as nervousness. “I’ve sent ‘em all packing with their tails between their legs!”
“Oh? You’re sayin’ you challenged them and won?”
He smirks and winks at you over his shoulder.
“Sure thing, sweetheart, especially after seeing my speed and quick-draw skills for ‘emselves.”
You pass by the saloon on your way through town, and it takes a few seconds for you to realize that there’s voices coming from within, even at this hour when they’re closed. You urge your horse to backtrack a few steps and hop off, tying the reins around a post and giving her a shoulder scritch before heading inside. Sonic waits until you’ve safely disembarked before sending you off with a kiss to the back of your hand and intense eye contact that lingers even as he pulls away.
You push the doors open. It’s just Espio and Madame Vanilla inside, sorting through shipments they received earlier this morning.
“You’re up bright and early,” she remarks as your boot heels click on the wooden floor. Espio nods in your direction as a greeting. “Did something bring you here?”
You shake your head and take a seat at the bar. When she turns her back to move a few boxes aside, Espio discreetly slides you a drink and motions for you to stay silent about it.
“Had nothin’ else to do. Thought I’d stop by.”
“Mine being a dear and helping me with these packages then?”
The packages are mainly drinks. It’s seemingly endless bottles of whiskey, kegs of beer that you have fun rolling across the floor to the bar, and the odd bottles of wine and champagne. Decks of cards and poker chips are found in another box. There’s also some nicer-looking boxes with return labels to department stores in the city that must be dresses the girls or their admirers ordered.
You and Espio are rolling a beer keg across the floor like it’s a game when Madame Vanilla lifts up a box and to your surprise, calls you over.
“Got a package for you, sugar. Looks like you’ve already got yourself a secret admirer.”
The package is small and light in your arms. The return address is to a high-end boutique chain in the city that you frequent often, but you act clueless, staring at the shipping label.
“What’s this store? H-o-n-e-y’s…”, you slowly say, squinting at the words and sounding them out as if it’s your first time encountering it.
Vanilla giggles at your feigned ignorance, seemingly finding your country bumpkin “nature” utterly amusing.
“This, my dear, is a very expensive and fancy store in the big city, catered toward upscale and elegant ladies. Whoever gifted you this must have lots of money and a great fancy toward you.”
She sighs as she watches you stare at the box like you’re unsure what to do with it.
“You’re quite a lucky lady, you know? Most girls here don’t start receiving gifts like this until they’ve been here for at least a few months and made a name for themselves.”
Something about her voice gives you the hint she already knows who the sender is. You press your ear to the box and gently shake it, hearing the soft rustle of clothes inside.
“Well, go on,” she urges. “Open your present and try on whatever’s inside. I’m sure they would be very happy to see you in them.”
… Yeah, she definitely knows who the sender is, and you have an inkling too. With a slightly hurried nod and a “thank you” in her direction, you scurry out the door. You return your horse back to the stables and arrive back at your hotel room in record time. Rouge looks over from where she’s still sleeping on the bed, rollers in her fur and sleep mask riding up her face.
“A gift?” she asks once she catches sight of the package. “Lemme see.”
A note sits atop the contents. Rouge snatches it before you can and reads it out loud, voice progressively growing higher-pitched and excited.
“I saw these for sale in the mail order catalog the other day and couldn’t stop imagining you in them. Wear these for me some night, will you?”
She squeals, tossing the note aside carelessly, and practically tears the wrapping paper to shreds with her sharp claws. The two of you gasp in unison at the contents, but for different reasons. Her eyes glimmer with excitement, while shock is scrawled all over your face. There, folded neatly atop each other, lies a pair of silk stockings and garter belts. The weave on the stockings is so fine the garment is all but transparent as you stretch it and hold it up to the sunlight streaming in through the window. The garter belts are a shade of deep blue that squeeze your thighs just enough to draw attention to the plush flesh. He’s not even trying to be subtle about it and it makes something flutter deliciously in your gut.
“He shelled out a pretty penny on you. Does he have deep pockets, by any chance?”
“Don’t even think about it, Rouge,” you sigh exasperatedly. Though your wardrobe is lined with fine clothes, you hang them up in plain sight, where you’ll reach first. Rouge smirks at the action.
“You should wear them tonight,” she urges. “Give him something nice to look at after a long day, and maybe he’ll be more receptive to letting you pick at his brain.”
That same night, as you get ready for work, you pull out one of your more luxurious dresses. Silk of this quality is almost unheard of out here, and it shows in the way it shimmers and drapes over your body. The stockings and garter belt, along with a pair of evening gloves matching the dress and a dark blue lace-up corset, already lie atop the bed. You just hope your gamble will pay off tonight and that he’ll actually be there.
“Saw your favorite blue boy toy leaving his office and headed in the direction of the saloon,” calls out Rouge as she swoops in through the open window as you’re doing your makeup. Relief floods your system and you feel the faint tug of a smile on your lips. Looks like your gamble paid off.
She pauses at the sight, before lowly whistling and sliding up next to you.
“Well, don’t you look expensive? All in his colors too. Hoping to give him a taste of luxury tonight?”
“I’m simply putting his generous gift to good use like you told me to,” you say lightly as you wrap the corset around your waist. “Lace me up?”
Rouge huffs and puffs as she digs her heels into the plush carpet, yanking the ribbons as tight as you can withstand.
“More,” you gasp. She gives you a look.
“You’re going to pass out in the middle of the floor like this.”
“Either way, I’ll get his attention.”
She gives the ribbons an especially punishing tug and relishes in the screech you let out.
It’s busier than ever that night. Espio is up to his neck in drink orders and at this pace, another shipment of whiskey will be needed before next week. The air is hot and muggy with the sticky scent of booze and sweat and lust, all mixed together. Even Amy seems a little frazzled right now and Knuckles has already lost his temper too many times to count.
You stand at the top of the stairs, fiddling with your hands. You tug the neckline of your dress as low as you can without catching a public indecency charge. You suck your stomach in even though you can hardly breathe in this corset. A fresh coat of lipstick is applied. No more getting swept away in his charms! Tonight, you’re here to do your job and that’s that! You vigorously shake your head, shaking away those doubts, and it’s showtime now.
You slip downstairs into the saloon seamlessly, waving and letting your gloved fingertips dance along the pleading hands of men that grab at you as you stop by the bar. One look, and Espio knows what you already want, sliding a glass down the table. The sheriff is sitting in his usual spot by the windows, boots kicked up on the table and leaning back in his chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s asleep… somehow, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as he snores, but his ear flicks and his eyes fly open as you approach. With a start, he scrambles to sit upright and wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.
“Took you long enough,” he says breathlessly, foot tapping rapidly against the floor. You laugh and pull up a chair next to him, leaning to the side and against the table. The neckline of your dress hangs even lower now, and you can see him swallow. His fist clenches beneath the table and you pinch your arm to stop yourself from laughing.
“Drink up, Sheriff,” you snicker as you slide the glass of whiskey across the table. “On the house, as always.”
You cross one leg over the other as he takes a big gulp, perhaps trying to distract himself with the burn as it goes down. As you do, the sheerness of the stockings gives your thighs a lustrous shine as the low light catches on them. The satin weave of the garter straps makes them look like precious cuts of sapphires wrapped snugly around an even greater treasure. He splutters, then slowly– deliberately–sets his glass down and leans back in his chair, taking in the treat before his eyes with bated breath.
“Cat got your tongue, Sheriff?”
“I knew they’d look good on you, but not this good,” he croaks out, throat drier than the desert. Though he tries to seem unbothered, his tail, like the traitor it is, wags excitedly behind him, hitting the back of the chair with loud thumps. He growls and reaches behind him, squeezing it, but it still continues to twitch eagerly in his crushing grasp.
“Why, thank you,” you purr. Like a puppy, you think as you watch him wrestle with his emotions.
The batwing doors keep swinging open. There’s seemingly no end to the patrons in sight and with a sharp call of your name from Madame Vanilla, you reluctantly leave his side to do your job. But even as you dance around wandering hands and struggle to not spill heavy trays of drinks, his half-lidded gaze stays glued to you with an almost unnerving intensity that you notice every now and then, in fleeting moments of peace from the hot, sweaty chaos. Though the saloon is packed to the gills and threatening to burst at the rafters, no one dares to sit next to him, out of respect but also out of fear over what he could do if disturbed from his starstruck state.
You finally catch a break and all but collapse at his table. He looks over at you after a few seconds delay, the heat beginning to addle his mind.
“‘S too hot in here,” he grumbles, tugging his neckerchief off and stuffing it into his pocket. You’re not in much better condition either. Sweat sticks to your back like a film and your hairdo is deflating and frizzy from the humidity. You merely grunt in agreement as your head hits the table, looking no different from the many drunkards passed out around you.
“Say, how ‘bout we… ”
He leans in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“... Leave this place for a bit? Go somewhere nicer?”
“Sheriff!” you hiss incredulously. “How could you suggest such a thing?!”
“What?” he asks, grinning cheekily with all his sharp teeth on display. It infuriates you; the way he baits you and the way it works every single time.
“Just follow me.”
“But the Madame–”
“I’ll talk to her if she gives you a hard time,” he counters, already dragging you up. Though your mind says no, your heart and feet say yes, and you slip out of the saloon unnoticed. The cool desert air is a sweet relief from the heat of the saloon. You greedily inhale the crisp, fresh air, not realizing just how suffocated you felt back there. Veering away from the trodden paths illuminated by the kerosene lamps on houses, he leads you to a sandy clearing on the outskirts of the town borders. Only cacti and the stray tumbleweed rolling by, propelled by the sweet evening breeze, are witnesses to your escape.
“Come here often?” you ask, looking up at him as you tuck your skirts beneath you and sit down.
“I do whenever I need to clear my head. Either that or going for a run. Usually the latter.”
He huffs and some of the tension balled up in his shoulders dissipates.
“Wait here for a second.”
He speeds off in a blur of blue and returns with his guitar in hand a few seconds later. He plops down next to you, hip ever so slightly brushing against yours and legs sprawled out lazily in front of him.
“You seem stressed,” you note as he tunes the instrument. He hums and tightens the peg.
“Can’t blame me. Got a lot on my mind with the expo ‘n all.”
“Now, who’s givin’ you a hard time?”
He humorlessly laughs as he begins absentmindedly strumming a tune.
“The feds are on my ass, tryna get me to bend over backwards in all directions. ‘Sheriff do this, Sheriff do that!’” he mimics in a high pitched, squeaky voice. Sonic scoffs, green eyes rolling dramatically. He fishes out a stalk of wheat from his pocket and chews on it as his fingers dance skillfully across the fingerboard.
“I’m not a doormat,” he grumbles. “I’m honored to have been selected to host this expo, but this is my town and I call the shots around here. Not those arrogant high hats.”
He plucks the string harder than necessary and fumbles a chord. A muttered curse slips past his lips and he grips the instrument so tightly you think the wood is about to snap. A soft touch against his shoulder makes him pause and look over to see your hand, delicately gloved in lace, resting there. You softly smile and gently squeeze when your gaze connects with his, despite the butterflies in your stomach rapidly building and about to bubble over.
“Well, I think you’ve been doin’ a fine job, Sheriff. But those’re just the thoughts of a mere saloon girl.”
You see how he tries to hide the proud smile stretching across his face after hearing your words. His ears flick and he rubs his nose, looking the other way.
“‘Course I am. Ain’t nobody better fit to run this place than me. And don’t sell yourself short like that. You’re a lovely lady. Any man would–”
He stops himself short before the rest of the sentence slips out.
Any man would be lucky to call you his.
He glares at the stupid ring you still wear around your finger. With a huff, he goes back to his guitar. Soft music fills the air now, mixed with your quiet breathing. Sonic was right; it does help with stress.
By the time he finishes his song, the moon is high in the sky and the howl of coyotes echo from a distance off the canyon walls. Sonic glances over to see you half-asleep against his shoulder.
“Sleepy?”
“A bit,” you admit. He huffs and gets to his feet, extending a hand.
“Let’s get you back home safely.”
The saloon is mostly cleared out when you stop by along the way to let Madame Vanilla you’re heading home for the night. She barely looks your way, too engrossed in the crocodile from earlier, as she waves you off. Espio is closing down the bar and Blaze is cleaning up her section. When she glances over to see you standing shoulder to shoulder with the Sheriff, she raises a brow and gives you a knowing look. But she pointedly looks the other way, and you know your secret is safe with her.
The streets are deserted, save for a few drunk stragglers stumbling into the alleyways and passing out. You come to a stop in front of your hotel. His hand lingers on the small of your back, a bit too long to be considered protective in a platonic way.
“... I didn’t know you could play,” is the first thing you say once the silence turns awkward, and you almost kick yourself. You call yourself a master of disguise, yet say the stupidest shit like this? Unbelievable…
But Sonic just laughs and adjusts his hat.
“‘Course I do. I’m a man of many talents, y’know?"
You just hum and look back at him.
“I wouldn’t mind hearin’ you play some more.”
His eyes widen and for a second, he freezes. For all his admirers, he’s never had anyone show interest in him beyond the surface, or try and get to understand him. Heat crawls under his fur and he looks away, tugging the brim of his hat down to obscure his face.
What a sweet feeling it is to be seen.
“Goodnight, sweet thing. See you tomorrow.”
With a fluid motion, as if he were planning this all along, he takes his hat off and places it on your head. You softly gasp as your vision is suddenly obscured. By the time you lift it off, he’s long gone, leaving only a rapidly-dissipating trail of sandy dust in his wake.
Your only response is a hum as you continue leafing through the paper. You gave the sheriff his hat back the day after, not wanting even more rumors to spread during such a crucial point in the heist. He laughed it off and accepted it, but ever since then, he’s been finding ways to slip you little gifts. A desert flower slipped into your updo while working that went undetected, until you caught your reflection in a mirror after your shift ended. The usual drink or two he buys for you behind Madame Vanilla’s back. The hairpins and dresses he splurges on occasionally when he’s saved up enough rings. The latest proof of his admiration is sitting in a vase on your hotel room desk: a bouquet of assorted desert flowers he picked for you this morning after unexpected and heavy rainfall last night.
“Your beloved sheriff has a telegraph in his office and he’s expected to receive some information from the government tonight. The federal government.”
The sound of rustling pages stops. You still as her implications register in your mind, hand frozen mid-turn. Rouge huffs and smirks, seeing the gears turn in your mind.
“Our lucky break already?” you ask, setting the newspaper down. She flashes you a wicked grin.
“Looks to be it. Keep him occupied tonight, will you? I’ll be handling this myself.”
The bedspread is a mess of papers when you return. Rouge sits in the center of it, pouring over maps and newspaper clippings. A small paper is gripped tightly in her hands, most likely the telegraph message. Her eyes dart back and forth as she cross-references information. They flick up to meet yours as you silently slip into the room, locking the door behind you with a quiet click. Relief spreads across her face and she eagerly beckons you to sit next to her.
“Honey, I got a boatload of information!” she exclaims as she practically shoves the message into your face. You grunt and snatch it out of her grasp, holding it out to read the short message in blocky letters.
Two Chaos Emeralds en route via train. Scheduled to arrive this Friday at noon. Send only your most trusted men to retrieve them.
Short, but this heist suddenly becomes the heist of the century.
“Chaos Emeralds?” you gasp. “And two of them at that?”
Rouge’s eyes are sparkling like polished diamonds as she eagerly nods. She’s practically drooling at the thought of finally getting her paws on more of them. Only seven of them exist, rumored to have unfathomable power and the ability to turn the user’s desires into reality. Rouge already possesses one, hidden in a place only the two of you know of. The other six are scattered throughout the country, frequently trading hands with the rich and powerful but never staying in one place for too long.
One emerald alone is already powerful enough. To have two more in the collection… you tremble at the mere thought. A delicious shudder runs up your spine and you nearly drool, just like the bat already doing so next to you.
The stakes are higher than ever now. You aren’t so foolish as to believe you two are the only thieves that have caught wind of this. You’ve seen signs of other bandits on the outskirts of town during your early morning rides with your horse– a hastily-scuffed out campfire, horseshoe footprints in the sand, and the scent of greed, so thick you can practically taste it on your tongue if you sniff the air with your mouth slightly parted. Sonic spoke for the both of you that one day: you’ve got your work cut out for you as well.
The floor plan for the expo begins coming together. Every morning before work, you and Rouge secretly scope out the area, eavesdropping on the laborers to learn which exhibits are going where. At night after your shift, you tell Rouge what you’d overheard over drinks with the sheriff and work to piece together a map of the grounds.
The map is nearing completion now. Just in time, as only a few days remain until the dawn of the expo. You and Rouge are working overtime now. The wall is covered with a giant map that’s just pieces of paper taped together. Rouge tears it down and carries it with her before the housekeepers arrive to clean your room every morning, and puts it back up every night. It’s tedious work, but anything to avoid drawing attention to the second thief you smuggled in is worth the effort.
The night before the big day comes. Tension hangs in the air as the town sleeps. It’s silent, but it’s soon broken by a rustle in the bushes. Sly green eyes peek through the foliage and a large white ear swivels around, listening for any sign of activity.
“All clear,” whispers Rouge. “Let’s move in and scram before these poor souls know what hit ‘em.”
A second rustle follows as you cast a glance around.
“You know the drill,” she says as you shake leaves off yourself. “I swoop in and steal the goods. You keep an eye out and once I’m done, we disappear into the night. The town wakes up the next morning and bam! Nothing but empty display cases.”
“Don’t jinx it,” you mutter as you move out, back pressed to the wall as you turn corners and avoid the men on patrol. You have their schedule memorized by now. Their shift should be winding down soon. There’s a five minute period in between when the first shift exchanges information with the next, and that’s when you two will act. There’s a lot being showcased, but you aren’t stealing everything. No, you’re only stealing the most valuable of them all.
The foreman whistles and calls all the men over. It’s showtime. The clock starts… now!
Rouge takes to the skies, following you as you dart between tents. The mental map you pieced together through days of research and eavesdropping unfurls in your mind as you guide Rouge to where the most valuable items are being stored. You stand guard near the entrance as she makes quick work of each desired exhibit, leaving no trace behind, before moving onto the next. As she does, you mentally cross off the ones you’ve raided as you go.
The southwest section has been cleared. We’re almost done with the northernmost part as well. Our horses are waiting for us on the western edge of the grounds. It’s a clear shot to them if we hit up the center next–
A shadow is cast against the wall as the door is flung open with a loud bang. The two of you freeze in your tracks. Rouge is hunched over a display case in the corner, partially hidden, but you’re completely exposed, bathed in moonlight as you stand frozen. This shouldn’t be happening. Not yet at least. There’s still at least another two minutes before the next shift takes over.
You recognize the silhouette first, much to your growing horror. Sharp quills, wide-brimmed hat, lasso and revolver already in hand–
“Run for it!”
Rouge grabs your arm and takes to the skies, wings beating furiously and valuables in the other hand. You’re barely airborne when the end of the lasso shoots out and wraps itself around your ankle with expert precision and yanks you free of her grip with a quick tug. You hit the ground hard, the air getting knocked out of your lungs and you lie there, stunned. It’s precious time being wasted, and you fight against the disorienting pain to get back on your feet. Rouge gasps and nosedives toward the ground, racing against the clock and his lighting-quick reflexes, when a sharp gunshot forces her to dodge and drop the valuables. Another gunshot forces her back to the skies before she can even think to retrieve them. She casts one last look at you over her shoulder in the few seconds she has as he reloads, worry evident in her eyes even though the world is hazy. You nod at her. She attempts to swipe the valuables she dropped but he reloads faster than expected. A third gunshot forces her to cut her losses and retreat. The dust settles and the clearing goes quiet, as if the struggle that just happened never even occurred. The pain in your head and your vision begins to clear up just enough for you to see the sheriff making his way toward you slowly, lazily, as if he has all the time in the world for what’s in store for you.
Now just a few feet away from you, Sonic tightens the lasso around his wrist, giving it a sharp twist and tightening the rope bound around your body just enough to make you gasp.
“Tried to pull a fast one on me, didn’t ya? You’ve got guts, playin’ with the fastest thing alive like that.”
He drags you forward with another tug on the rope. The plain, unassuming clothes you wore for the getaway are scuffed and covered in a light layer of dirt now. You dig the heels of your boots into the ground, trying to resist, and he laughs.
“Well, sorry to disappoint, darlin’, but I was never fooled. Not even for a moment.”
You look up at him from your humiliating position on the ground.
“What gave it away?” you wheeze. Even stringing the words together in your mind is starting to become taxing.
Sonic makes a show of thinking hard.
“Hmm, oh I dunno… maybe it was the scent of trouble that followed your pretty ass everywhere you went? Or housekeeping reporting signs of a second person staying in your room when you claimed you were by yourself back at my office? Or maybe it was the way you kept digging for more information, using your body as a distraction? Don’t think I didn’t recognize your tactic. Do I need to go on?”
This is humiliating. Did he see through your plan a mile away? Your face burns at the thought and you look away, fixating on a cactus in the distance. He takes your silence as an invitation and presses further.
“Hedgehogs have better hearing than most assume. Don’t think I didn’t hear the rustling outside my office late at night, which just so happened to be every time I received a telegraph from the feds. Could smell your perfume and the scent of the saloon drifting along the sweet evening breeze too.”
“So you were playing along this entire time?”
He chuckles lowly and nods.
“Y’know, you almost had me a few times. Could’ve fooled myself into believing you were just a pretty face with a penchant for stirrin’ up trouble, until I heard somethin’... interesting the other day.”
He licks his lips as he stares down at you accusingly.
“Caught wind of two bandits who hadn’t been seen in a while over the telegraph, one of them being a jewel thief while the other a master of disguise. The whole thing wasn’t sittin’ right with me, so I did some research and whaddya know. Both of ‘em were hiding in plain sight under my nose all along. I dunno whether to be impressed in your skills or disappointed in myself. You do live up to your master of disguise reputation, but that all ends here.”
“Rou–!”
The rope digs further into your ribs and you cough up a sharp gasp.
“Ah-ah-ah. None of that is happenin’ on my watch.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you wheeze, lungs begging for air. He raises a brow.
“Oh really? You’re callin’ this punishment.”
A dark chuckle escapes him.
“Well, darlin’, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you haven’t seen the worst of it yet.”
The rope loosens slightly around your body and you gasp, lungs greedily sucking in air, but that sweet relief doesn’t last long, as the world turns upside down and a strangled gasp escapes you. He hoists you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, laughing at the way you stiffen up. Your strangled gasp morphs into a snarl ripping low in your throat and you thrash about like an unruly stallion despite being hogtied, no different than a pig ready for slaughter, and kicking and spitting all the way. Sonic huffs and sharply smacks your ass, grinning widely when you yelp at the stinging pain that fades just as quickly as it came.
“Quit actin’ up, and I might let you off with only a slap on the wrist,” he growls. You go still at his threat, just long enough to delude yourself into a sense of security when he smacks your ass again, this time squeezing the soft flesh.
“Just kiddin’.”
He kicks the door to his office shut with a loud bang, not even bothering to light the lamps as he makes his way to the corner of the room. A door creaks open and cold realization washes over you as you make out faint, yet recognizable shapes in the dark: a guitar propped against the wall, an unmade bed; sheets mussed and blanket half-pooled on the floor– oh no.
“Wait, I–!”
The springs in the bed groan as you’re tossed upon it. You barely have a moment to fight back before he climbs atop you, boots half-off and hat tossed carelessly over his shoulder into some corner. In the dark room, you make out the electric glint of his eyes, clouded with lust, as he bites his gloves off, tossing them to the side to accompany his likewise forgotten hat. Now-bare hands squeeze your wrists tightly and his knee wedges itself between your legs, forcing them apart and pressing himself up against your growing need. A shaky breath is the only warning you get before his mouth descends upon yours, swallowing up any protests with a greedy, open mouthed kiss. The taste of whiskey lingers on his tongue as he pushes his way into your mouth, tearing an involuntary moan from you. A hand reaches up to fist his quills and he all but groans at the sensation of you tugging him closer, tongue swirling against yours and sharp teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he tries (and fails) to contain himself.
“You’re— mmph— the embodiment of sin,” he groans between kisses trailing down your neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh to leave a bruising claim behind. “And you look and taste like it too.”
A thin trail of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away, deeply gasping and eyes glazed over. His ears are pricked forward, chasing the sounds of your breathless pleasure, and dusted a deep pink at the tips.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this for,” he breathes out. “And now that I finally have you within my grasp, I hardly know where to start.”
His lips descend upon you again, this time more ravenous, if even possible. What little he’s wearing comes off in a flash. The red neckerchief falls to sheets with a flutter, revealing a flush the same color and intensity crawling down his neck. His boots are finally fully kicked off, landing with a thump somewhere. He all but tears his shirt off, too impatient to bother with the buttons and sweltering beneath his fur, and lets it pool around his legs as he struggles with the leather chaps until they too finally slide off. His belt hits the mattress and bounces off, landing on the floor– but the lasso, however, is put to a better use. One end is skillfully looped and knotted around your wrists, binding them together, while the other end is secured to the bedpost.
“There,” he says smugly. “Can’t run away now, can ya? Not like you’d be able to outrun me anyway.”
Unable to fight off his touch now, he makes quick work of undressing you, already desperate to feel you wrapped around him like a vice. Your dress is yanked off you, pooling at your ankles and already forgotten about as his eyes drink you in. His pupils are blown so wide they resemble black holes, greedily swallowing you whole as they linger on the swell of your breasts and the mouth-watering scent of your arousal that makes him drool.
An embarrassing moan escapes your lips as two fingers slip into you, pushing far deeper than yours ever could. They curl up, hitting that spongy spot in the back that makes you buck beneath him and bite your lip so hard it bleeds. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His tongue darts out to lap away at the blood, grinning at your scandalized expression, but scowling when you nip at him, jerking away just in time before your teeth nick him.
“Naughty,” he chides, adding a third finger inside you. “I thought Madame Vanilla would’ve drilled manners into you by now. Guess no amount of teaching can hammer out what you really are deep inside.”
Your walls burn pleasurably at the stretch and just when you think you can’t take anymore– his other hand reaches down to harshly pinch your clit. A half-strangled sound of pleasure escapes you and he hums at the sound, trailing kisses down to your neck before lightly biting above your throat.
His thumb presses into the sensitive nub and you think you see stars in that moment, body twitching and a noise no other man has managed to tear from you escaping your lungs. Your walls spasm around his fingers knuckle-deep inside you and he grins into your neck at the way your pussy clamps down on him like a vice. With some effort, he pulls his fingers out as you come down from your high, the wet squelch far too loud in the silent room, and eagerly laps at your juices dripping down his wrist.
“Sweet,” he purrs. “But I bet you’ll taste sweeter once I give ya what you want, hm?”
A hint of red peeking through the soft blue fur draws your attention. Though he tries to act cool, his body betrays his growing desperation. He’s already painfully hard, the tip angry and leaking with each twitch. His whole body shudders as the cool evening air washes over him, desperate for any relief to the need itching beneath his fur. You have half a mind to tease him about it when he lifts you up effortlessly, hands cupped beneath your tits, and pulls you onto his lap, legs straddling his hips and thighs parted. The tip of his cock brushes against your dripping cunt and you shudder. With your wrists still bound behind your back, you’re unable to resist. Somehow, it turns you on and you don’t exactly hate it.
“Safe word is chili dog,” he mumbles and you’re about to ask what the hell is a chili dog when he slides himself between your folds. The stretch burns deliciously and more fiercely than all the other men you’ve slept with in the past. Your head rolls back and a loud cry escapes you. Just the tip alone eclipses the stretch his fingers provided, splitting you apart to the point of feeling light-headed. His head sinks into your pillowy soft breasts, muffling his groan as your pussy greedily sucks him in and hugs him snugly.
“F… Fuck,” he hisses, cock sinking forward bit by bit. “You feel… incredible.”
A shudder runs up his spine and his hips stutter violently. He has to resist the urge to bottom out immediately and instead, lowers you down slowly until he’s finally, finally, buried to the hilt inside you. The torturous feeling of edging himself, and you, is replaced with sweet relief and a drawn-out moan from both of you. Nothing, nothing, could compare to the mind-numbing pleasure of you wrapped around him, especially not the nights he spent with his fist around his cock and imagining it was you instead. Your sweet perfume clouds his senses in the way it always has, but this time he’s not getting off to your scent alone. He finally has the real thing in his hands.
“Go on. Give me a show for my troubles.”
Cowgirl. So he likes it when a girl takes control, at least every now and then. It’s always a delight when you come across a man like this. Your hands press into his thighs as you raise and sink your hips down in a circular motion, sighing in tandem with his stifled hiss as his hips buck upwards. His head tilts back and he groans, hands squeezing your hips even more forcefully as he hisses out curses over how good you are at this.
“Who the hell… taught ya how to… ride like that?”
“Men like you, Sheriff,” you pant out, chest heaving in time with each nasty squelch of your pussy taking him up to the hilt.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he growls, spanking your ass for your cheekiness.
“Men that like their woman to hold the reins every now and then, Sheriff.”
You swear you see his eye twitch, but a particularly loud groan escapes his mouth as you clamp down around him.
This is nice, but he needs more. His hands squeeze your hips, still panting feverishly, and he lifts you off him despite every nerve in his body screaming at him not to. A wet pop fills the air and your pussy flutters around nothing, drooling onto his thighs and already craving him again. At the sight and smell of your arousal, he all but salivates and his pupils expand so much there’s hardly any green visible. His tongue darts out to lick away a drop at the corner of his mouth before you can see and tease him about it. Even a few seconds without you wrapped around him feels like torture and all other needs die out until the only one left is the need to have you.
He lives up to his famous speed, acting so fast all you feel is the thump of your back hitting the bed as he folds you in half like a pretzel, legs going behind your ears, and slamming his hips against yours without missing a beat. A half-moan, half-scream tears its way from your throat; in this position, you can feel him deeper than before and hitting spots you didn’t think were possible.
“Screamin’ so loud the entire town can hear,” he growls, squeezing your waist tighter. Claws dig into your skin and draw pinpricks of blood. “Almost makes me think you’re into that.”
You involuntarily clench around him and he grins.
“So you are. Didn’t take ya for the kinky type, but I’m not complainin’.”
His callused hand roughly squeezes your breast as he angles his hips to thrust into you deeper. Your legs hook over his shoulders, toes flexing and curling in a pleasure that’s almost unbearable. The headboard hits the wall with rhythmic thumps that match the tight, accelerating beating of your heart.
“Go on then,” he growls into your ear. “Scream as loud as you want. It’ll at least tell the men in town to keep their hands off of ya.”
What little restraint you had left dies out at his command. You turn your head and bury your face into the pillows and scream his name out, broken up by choked moans. He grunts, displeased, and yanks the pillow out of your grasp, punishing you further with a quick slap to the ass. You gasp, eyes rolling back at the delicious sting that blooms across the skin. The sound is music to his sensitive ears and he needs more of it. One hand loops around your hair and tugs on it like the reins on a horse. You arch your back further and he rewards your actions with a particularly deep thrust, so deep you can feel it in your chest.
He grins when you convulse beneath him, giving a strangled cry of his name and clamping down so tightly he feels like he’s about to pass out. His head spins from delirious pleasure as he presses his forehead to yours to try and ground himself.
“Can’t last… much longer,” he pants, voice cracking. The words barely make it out before he’s groaning, spilling deep into you and trembling; too far gone to think about the possible consequences and not really caring anyway. Thick warmth floods your gut and you weakly twitch, lacking the energy to even whimper now. He pulls out and collapses on top of you a few seconds later. Heat clouds his gaze and forms low in his gut again at the sight of the creamy ring around his base from your combined releases. But he forces it back down. You’re warmer than the rush of alcohol beneath him and smell much nicer too. With a shaky exhale as he tugs you closer, he finally falls asleep.
It feels like you’ve been kicked and run over by your horse and Rouge’s at the same time the next morning. Your entire body is sore, especially between your thighs, and it’s a struggle to even roll over in bed.
“Rise ‘n shine, darlin’!” calls out Sonic, far too loud and cheery for the hour. “Expo starts in an hour. Dontcha wanna be there?”
A cup of coffee is set on the nightstand beside you. Your nose twitches at the smell, but you grunt, refusing to get up. He laughs and lies back down beside you, ruffling your hair.
“Well, good mornin’ to you too, sleepyhead. Slept well?”
A kiss is pressed to the side of your head as he yanks the covers off you with a flourish. You melt into the sheets at the touch, too tired to even feel embarrassed at your naked form completely on display to his greedy eyes. Something smooth and silky is tossed over you and with a brush of your fingers, you realize it’s one of your dresses.
“Found this on mah doorstep this mornin’. You’re lucky that partner of yours had the foresight to leave a gift to save your dignity.”
Rouge. Now that he knows the existence of her, your plan has basically fallen apart. For some reason, you’re not as distraught about it as you normally would be.
After a quick breakfast, the sheriff takes pity on you and gives you a ride on his horse to the venue, but not without a teasing slap to your ass as you disembark, and right over a particularly sore spot at that. You got a prime spot towards the front of the crowd, with the obscured podium in front of you. Sonic steps out on stage to the thunderous applause of all, waving and welcoming everyone. As he goes through the script of thanking the attendees and sponsors, his eyes keep drifting down to yours. Your eyes narrow and you impatiently tap your foot. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s trying to blow his cover, like how he blew yours and Rouge’s.
“And now… for the star of the show!”
The white cloth is lifted with a flourish. Everyone gasps, but not out of awe, no– out of shock.
The two Chaos Emeralds are missing.
Disbelieving whispers fill the space and suddenly, Sonic’s promise of guaranteeing the safety of the expo doesn’t feel so airtight anymore. His eyes meet yours in the crowd and for once, you’re both thinking the same thing– how?
Rouge has silently snuck up on you while you were distracted. You turn to her, who’s equally as stunned. She shakes her head slowly, eyes wide and disbelieving as she holds her hands up, as if to say see? I don’t have them either. She must’ve never been able to retrieve them after being forced to flee last night– wait.
You both freeze as you come to the same conclusion. Assuming those were the real Chaos Emeralds that you stole and not decoys, then someone must’ve swiped them out from underneath your noses. Someone clever enough to evade Rouge’s keen senses and best her at her own game, and with enough foresight to cover their tracks. And someone that’s clearly been watching your every move too, if they were able to rob them in the brief period of time they left Rouge’s clutches.
So if not you two… then who did it?
enjoyed this? my taglist is open!
@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai
Mr reca word vomit bc the brain worms won’t leave my brain!!! I promise I’m Very Sane abt this man
TAGS: not proofread, written before his release so potentially ooc and I’m too lazy to rewrite it post-release, secret relationship trope, reader wears lipstick, making out eheheheheh, reader is smaller/shorter than him, this is my propaganda and sign for u to become a reca kisser too
TAGLIST: @akutasoda, @https-sourlimes, @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii (putting you on the reca kisser agenda >:3), @harque, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @moineauz
Ok so imagine being in a secret relationship with the man himself…
Like the two of you HATE each other’s guts in public. As a rival film producer, the public loves to pit your films against each other, and the two of you as well apparently. There have been so many instances of you making small digs and sly remarks toward each other during interviews that it’s become somewhat expected by now. You have a gripe with the pacing of his films and his fame. He has a bone to pick with your cinematography.
“That manic director’s most recent film? I would give my thoughts, but unfortunately I fell asleep not even halfway through.”
“That uninspired, dreadfully dull and artistically lacking director? All their films look the same. I couldn’t differentiate them even if I wanted to.”
No matter how critically acclaimed your work is, he always has something to say about it.
Even if it was in the back of an alley with his hands gripping your hips tightly and teeth nipping at your neck.
"It took until a quarter of the way through the movie before- hah- your cinematography finally showed some signs of thought put into the shots. I know you can do better than this. So why- mmph- did it take you so long?"
You angrily nip on his bottom lip. A flash of satisfaction runs through you when you hear him hiss and taste blood on the tip of your tongue.
“Like you’re one to talk with the horrendous pacing of your newest film! Tell me, what was the plot of it again? Because I- mmm!?- already forgot the direction it was supposed to be taking twenty minutes in!”
"Well, you just simply lack reading comprehension. Not my fault, of course.”
“Oh, you little piece of-!”
He shuts you up with a rough and messy kiss. Your legs immediately go jelly and were it not for his leg slotted between yours and pushing you up against the wall, you think you would’ve collapsed right there and then.
When he pulls away, your lips are glossy and swollen. There’s a dazed look in your eyes that makes him smirk in satisfaction and without any hesitation, he pulls out his camera to take a few shots.
“Yes, yes, wonderful! That expression really suits you!”
Anger looks good on you, but he much rather prefers this expression.
He leans in for another kiss and because you can’t say no to him, you indulge him- until you hear footsteps nearby. You hurriedly clamp your hand over his mouth and wait until they’re gone before glaring at him.
“Stop running your mouth so much in public! You’ll give us away at this point!”
“Then stop being so loud,” he hisses back, though he’s in no better state than you, his-already-disheveled hair an absolute mess now from you gripping it. His flushed face is littered with lipstick marks and you can’t resist the temptation to add a few more.
“Cheeky, aren’t you?” he huffs out as you place a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. A soft kiss to his eyelid makes his eyes flutter shut and an affectionate sigh escape him. He smells of the chemicals used to develop film and strong coffee…
Then there’s a gasp and the undeniable sound of a camera shutter going off. Caught red handed.
You pull apart from him with a surprised gasp and expression. Strangely, he doesn’t look fazed at all. Still as smug as ever.
You whirl around to see an equally-shocked photographer standing there. Paparazzi, from the looks of it. He was probably going around and looking for some potential shots before accidentally stumbling upon something that would make front-page headlines. When you look back at him, then at the photographer, there’s even more people now snapping away at the two of you in a compromising position.
With the damage already done, you try to leave before he stops you. His jacket resting on your shoulders dwarfs your smaller frame and he yanks on the film strip belt to reel you back in. The crowd of photographers has doubled now, murmuring excitedly to themselves.
“Wh- let go! The paparazzi are having a field day-!”
He silences you with a swift kiss and a pinch to the inner thigh. The cameras flash even more rapidly now.
“Let them see for all I care.”
enjoyed this? my taglist is open!
@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai
SYNOPSIS: all aboard the lady luck and set sail for a new adventure! life on land doesn't satisfy you, so why not take to the seas instead? while working under captain aventurine as the primary nurse onboard, everything you've ever wanted is within your grasp, and yet the mystery surrounding your captain is still there, just short of being solved. just what kind of secrets lie hidden beneath that charming smile and silver tongue?
CHARACTERS: aventurine, topaz, ratio, jade, robin
TAGS: fem coded reader (wearing dresses, makeup, but they/them pronouns still used), mentions of drinking, gambling, harassment toward reader, drowning, numby is a regular piglet in this fic, 23.9k wc (get some snacks and a drink ready for this one), mild angst, some suggestiveness
NOTES: thought my aventurine kissery phase was over then hoyo uploaded the pirate art of him and now its back to square one
special thanks to my pookies @https-sourlimes and @tragedy-of-commons for proofreading this behemoth of a fic! with much love mwah 💋
very late but @lowkeyren hihihi ren!! I got u for secret santa and hope u enjoy this fic!
It’s always been there, tucked away in the back of your mind, usually hidden but resurfacing like the corals and lost trinkets at low tide you’d go scavenging for when no one was looking. Conch shells hold the secrets of the ocean that enrapture you for hours on end and you drape yourself in weathered jewelry washed ashore. Dried-up starfish and seashells and multicolored sea glass litter your home, and yet it isn’t enough. These trinkets pile up and gather dust in your home as you chase after what you’re really after- a way out.
You’ve been surrounded by the sea your entire life, born and raised in this very port town. You grew up hearing stories of lands faraway from your parents and the workers down at the docks. Infamous pirates and honorable seamen alike and their journeys were your bedtime stories as a kid. You never see the same unfamiliar face twice in a place like this and perhaps it’s this ability to come and go as you please that captured your heart from a young age. Appearing and disappearing like an apparition with rumors of your conquests and the freedom a life at sea granted… it was enough to grab your attention as a kid and never let go.
And yet, you’ve never ventured into the open seas. The most you’ve done is swim around at the beach, but you’ve never been able to push further than that. Theoretically, you should’ve been able to leave long before now, but your plans never made it past the first step. You’ve been denied passage aboard ships at every turn for countless reasons, all of them stupider than the last. Eventually, your motivation died down until you resigned yourself to a dull life on land- but the dream never fizzled out completely. Even now, you still stroll along the beach and search for answers.
Down at the dock, you hear of sailors and pirates alike drunkenly telling tales of sirens and their bewitching songs they waged war against at sea. You wager that the sea’s freedom beckons to you the same way a siren’s song does to them- irresistible, enchanting, and inescapable no matter where you are.
When work is slow, you find yourself staring out at the sea through the window, just watching as the tides recede and crash onto the shoreline repeatedly. At night, you’d catch yourself at the beach with your feet in the sand and the salty waters lapping at your ankles without any recollection of how you got there. Maybe sleepwalking? But something tells you that’s not the answer.
But this time, you suddenly find yourself standing in waist-deep water, completely alone and without a sound to be heard. Not even the usual sound of squawking gulls circling overhead can be heard. That’s strange. The harbor is always busy, with goods being transported and people seeking asylum. There’s ships docked and as far as you can tell, it’s as normal of a day as any other. And yet, there’s no life to be seen or heard. No crabs scuttling along the sandy beach, no people strolling along the boardwalk, no shouts of street vendors peddling their wares to passersby. Just you, the sea, and its ever-growing temptation.
You think it’s somewhere around early evening from the position of the sun, but you aren’t sure how long you stare toward the horizon, unblinking. But when you do blink, you see a pirate ship coming into view. She’s quite possibly the most incredible ship you’ve ever seen in your life, with several sails, a sturdy hull, and a flag fluttering proudly atop the mainmast. And she’s heading right toward you. If you swim out further or wait where you are for a while longer, she’ll pass by, giving you the perfect opportunity to sneak onboard.
You look back one last time before heading further out to sea. You slip below the water. It’s pleasantly warm and you wonder why you’ve never attempted this before.
The siren’s embrace, that is the ocean’s form of freedom, is growing stronger.
Port towns aren’t known for being the safest, especially those frequented by pirates. Public drunken brawls, looting by particularly greedy pirate crews, lechery, and disturbance of the peace with the occasional count of public indecency, are commonplace almost every night. Usually, you’re able to avoid most of it, but today isn’t your lucky day.
“Hey, pretty lady! Mind comin’ home-”
Crash!
An empty beer bottle goes flying by, barely missing his head and shattering into bits against the brick wall behind him. He lets out an unusually high-pitched squeak for someone of his size and stares as you storm past, his mouth agape. Another sailor behind him laughs at his plight, to which he spins around and cusses toward his face. You make it out just in time as the first punch is thrown.
One drunken sailor is more than enough to deal with, you decide. You decide that you’ll take your chances and go past the port as a shortcut back home, even though it’s late.
It’s silent besides the sloshing of the waves and mostly empty. There’s some burly guards patrolling in front of the more ostentatious pirate ships that spare a glance as you hurry by, but it’s otherwise deserted at this hour.
Until you approach the end of the harbor where few ships are docked. You hear the faint sounds of a struggle- a punch being thrown, a man’s muffled scream, glass shattering, the wet squelch of a knife sinking into flesh, and the thud of a body hitting the ground. From the shadows, you see two people emerge. A blond man drags someone out by the hair with a knife in hand. Even from here, you can see the dark slick staining the wood. There’s a ship directly in front of him. You assume it belongs- or belonged- to the now-lifeless body being dragged along. The blond looks around, then freezes up upon seeing you. The hand holding the knife tenses at his side and the two of you stay locked in place like that for a bit, daring to see who will make the first move. Shockingly bright neon eyes meet yours and you jolt. You’ve never seen anyone with eyes like his.
But there’s a ship that’s still waiting. You recall that strange dream you had a few nights ago.
… On second thought, perhaps today is your lucky day after all.
You slowly clap, starting to move forward, and the blond steps back. The knife in his hands, now aimed at you, is a tiny thing. It’s rusted, the blade is most likely dull, and even the butter knife in your kitchen would laugh at it.
“Congrats on winning. Got any injuries you need patched up?”
No response. You try again.
“I see those injuries you got from that fight. Those wounds of yours won’t heal overnight. Someone has to be there to ensure they don’t get infected.”
“... You’re a nurse?”
His voice comes out smoother than expected. Amusement and snark drip from the words, thick as honey, like he can’t believe you’re a medical professional. And yet, you can hear the tenseness in his voice and see it in his coiled muscles, ready to spring back into action again.
You ignore the jab toward you and point toward the winding cobblestone streets that you came from. The sounds of a fight can be heard coming from the town square even out here.
“Run a practice in town. Certified and everything if you’re real nitpicky and care about my credentials. Though most sailors that come through the door could care less when they’ve got a pretty lady lookin’ over ‘em and are used to amputations for the most minor of infections.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up by another pirate crew yet then,” he smugly remarks, voice as smooth as velvet yet concealing a sharp edge.
“Oh, there’ve been attempts alright. Promises of double the booty a normal seaman would receive, the finest quarters second only to the captain, medical supplies taking utmost priority when docking, and many many more. Hah! All nice and cute, but we know that in a few months time, all those promises will have fallen out the window and I’ll be regarded with no less respect than the lowliest seaman onboard.”
He leans back against a wooden post, roughly kicking the man from earlier until his bleeding head is submerged underwater. You spare a glance at the poor soul before looking back at him.
“Got a ship now?”
“... It’s not much, but it’s something to start with.”
He looks behind him and as he does so, the sleeves of his rags shift to reveal the injuries lying beneath. A sharp intake of breath is the only sign you’ve seen them, but his keen ears pick up on it. He tugs his sleeves down and glowers over his shoulder in your direction.
“You don’t have any medical expertise, do you?” you ask, ignoring his irritation. “Not a good idea to go out conquerin’ the seven seas without a nurse on board. Matter of fact, I doubt you’d even get that far. Probably die off from scurvy or something preventable.”
His silence speaks volumes. You brush past him and set foot onto his stolen ship- little more than a glorified rowboat with a mast and a single sail. It couldn’t even be called a sailboat.
Still, he won’t go down so easily. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares you down behind his thick bangs obscuring his vision.
“And why should I welcome you aboard?”
“Simple. We both get what we want.”
You reach your hand out to him.
“You get a trained, qualified medical professional to treat your wounds, and I get to escape this rinky-dink, backwater port town. A mutually beneficial deal, don’t you agree?”
He racks his mind for an excuse, anything, really, to turn you down. But he can’t come up with anything. The wounds all over his body really do need treatment that he doesn’t have the expertise for. There’s enough room for two people in the boat and he knows you’re smart enough to have realized that by now.
It’s fine. I’ll just dump them off at the next port and be on my way. Problem solved.
With no excuse that can fly under your radar, he pushes his irritation down and forces a smile onto his face. He reaches a hand out and it’s just now you notice his ghostly blue fingertips.
… He’s not entirely human, is he?
“Your name?”
“(Name).”
“Welcome aboard, Nurse (Name).”
You brush your thoughts aside and shake his hand. It’s cold.
“Pleasure, Captain…?”
“Aventurine.”
You squeeze his hand firmly one last time.
“Pleasure to be working with you, Captain Aventurine.”
Captain, huh? He tries the title on for size in his mind as you get settled in, rolling it around on his tongue.
I could get used to being called that.
Even though he initially promised himself that he’d kick you out at the next port, that never happens. You pass by several ports, and yet you stay onboard. Perhaps it’s because he finds his first treasure alongside you on an island that many have sailed past countless times. The treasure was hiding under everyone’s noses the entire time, both of you managing to uncover it with a bit of wit and a hefty amount of luck. Aventurine supposes part of himself feels indebted to you, much as he hates the sensation. You found your first treasures together and you’ve admittedly been taking good care of his wounds born from years of enslavement. The healing process is coming along slowly but steadily.
Perhaps he’ll let you stay for a bit longer. Until you get your share of this treasure. He gives credit where credit is due, at least.
“I can’t believe this has been here this whole time,” you say as the treasure chest is finally unearthed. Aventurine sets the shovel down, and on the count of three, you lift it out to go through its contents. It’s no sizable amount of loot by any means, but it’s not half-bad for your first haul. Some gemstones that are admittedly rather small, jewelry, a few rusted cutlasses that with some elbow grease, could be restored to their former state, and some golden coins from a bygone era.
You hold some gold chains up in front of him, as if seeing what he’d look like with them on. He casts a glance down and shakes his head in disapproval.
“I know, too gaudy, right?” you ask as you set them back into the chest. He holds up a handful of uncut diamonds, all of varying sizes, and watches as they twinkle in the sunlight. “At least we can pawn ‘em off.”
“I know someone who can fetch us a good price for them. You won’t have to worry about that,” he responds as he lets the diamonds slip back into the chest through his fingers like fat, glistening raindrops. Diamonds are almost worthless on their own, but if he sends them to a jeweler to be cut and polished and perhaps turned into jewelry, then perhaps he can squeeze out a bit of value from them… Or perhaps he should just leave them the way they are, given her hobby for finding true gems in the rough.
He finds a string of pearls and after a moment for inspection, tosses them over to you.
“Here. Keep these. You’ll look good in ‘em.”
“Then at least keep one or two of those gold chains as well,” you say as you clasp it shut around your neck. Aventurine shakes his head again, laughing snarkily.
“Nah. Not my taste. Not gaudy enough.”
“That’s what I said earli- wait, not gaudy enough?”
He meets your disbelieving expression with an innocent one and a shrug of his shoulders.
“What? A pirate captain’s gotta look the part. The more in-your-face, the better.”
There’s someone already waiting for you when you return to land to pawn off your treasure. According to Aventurine, she owns one of the most prosperous pawn shop chains out there and always fetches a fair price for her customers, so long as they have something equally valuable to give her in return.
“Just remember to always address her as ‘Lady Bonajade’ and nothing else. She doesn’t take too kindly to those who don’t have manners,” he whispers to you as you weave your way between the crowded streets to the pawn shop’s address.
“Sounds like an interesting person,” you whisper back. “Should I be scared?”
He scoffs. “Not unless you’re looking to trade something beyond our treasure. Just don’t say anything rash. Let me handle it.”
The pawn shop is tucked away in a corner of town that sees few people. The exterior is surprisingly well-maintained for this part of town and a sign reading “Bonajade Exchange” in elegant violet cursive lettering hangs above the door. You can’t see into the shop’s windows and you can’t hear any activity from inside either. Upon pushing the heavy door open, you’re greeted with the chime above tinkling at your arrival and the scent of heavy perfume cloying your nose. It smells heavily of florals and incense, with a hint of smoke present. The candle flames waver and flicker as the door shuts and you take a moment to look around the shop. The heavy velvet curtains across the windows are drawn, letting only a small sliver of sunlight in. The only other source of lighting is the candles scattered throughout that illuminate the treasures displayed almost carelessly throughout the store. Polished and cut gemstones lie in display cases alongside gold bars and jewelry. Weapons of all sorts are hung along the walls alongside maps and thick, aged atlases on the bookshelves. It’s silent, save for the faint crackling of waxen flames, until an unfamiliar and elegant voice rings out from behind the curtain all the way in the back.
“Welcome to Bonajade Exchange. Who are you? And what do you seek?”
There’s a moment of silence that follows, as if the speaker has recognized who you are. A candle is lit behind the curtain and you can make out the silhouette of a woman rising to her feet.
“Oh, it’s you. We meet again, Aventurine.”
There’s a smile in her voice as she brushes the curtain aside and you get your first look at the owner of the shop. A wide-brimmed black hat obscures half of her face with a pale blue eye peeking out at you. She wears a white dress that’s undoubtedly made of silk or some other costly fabric with a dark blue corset. The silver and jade jewelry she wears (is that where she gets her name from?) clink pleasantly against each other alongside her heels, accompanied by a walking stick clicking against the wooden floor as she walks. As she approaches, you can pick up on her perfume of white florals and red wine.
She comes to a stop and her eyes rake over you both, lingering on you especially. You catch a hint of something in her slitted pupils, like she knows something you don’t.
“I haven’t seen you before. I’m Lady Jade, the owner of this place. Are you a first-time customer to the Bonajade Exchange?”
Her voice is low and almost a whisper that has you hanging onto her every word. It’s as smooth as the silk used for her dress but there’s an almost unnatural hiss to her words, not unlike that of a snake’s. Her voice is also vaguely snake-like too- the way certain words are stretched out, the weirdly sharp pronunciation of consonants clashing with the almost syrupy vowels that tempt you to lower your defenses, the lack of cadence- all make you unconsciously be on guard. Under her chilling gaze, you feel yourself strangely clamming up and it’s all you can do to nod mutely. She hums and leans in closer, examining you head to toe. You feel like an item being offered up for auction yourself right now…
“And who might you be, lovely lady?”
You’re surrounded by ice.
“Nurse (Name)... Lady Bonajade,” you say, hurriedly adding her title at the end after remembering Aventurine’s advice from earlier. She smiles approvingly, a cold and benevolent thing.
“You’re a good child who knows their manners. Alas, the same couldn’t be said for the man next to you when I first-”
Aventurine coughs. Jade stops talking, but the mirth still lingers in her eyes. A purple snake appears out of seemingly nowhere, winding around her shoulders and up her forearm before rearing its head at you. Its tongue flicks out to taste the air and it leans toward you before she gently pushes its head back.
“Don’t mind it. It’s too curious for its own good at times,” she says offhandedly. Her baby blue irises drift toward the plain wooden crate sitting behind Aventurine and the beginnings of a smirk tug at the corners of her glossy lips.
“Have you brought something valuable for me?”
Aventurine beckons you over and after a bit of effort, you pry open the lid to reveal the contents of the treasure you found. Jade strides forward and stops before the crate, examining it with interest.
“Look at that, you’ve finally found your first treasure. Where was it found?”
She raises an eyebrow and a hint of skepticism crosses her expression when Aventurine tells her the spot.
“That island has been combed through countless times by other pirates. I find your claim hard to believe.”
Atlases and ancient records are brought out and she finally seems to believe him after cross-referencing the embossing on the back of a coin with a legend from that island. Just as you think you’re starting to get a grasp of the situation, a flurry of financial terms fly over your head as they argue over the market value of the items and how much cash you can walk away with today.
… You’re way out of your comfort zone now. You’re a nurse, not a businessperson, for Aeon’s sake!
An agreement seems to be reached between the two of them. Jade readjusts her gloves and after calling some men over from the back, they begin going through the treasures and separating them into piles. Meanwhile, Aventurine turns his attention back to you.
“Fifty-fifty split.” You make the first move.
Aventurine scoffs. “Absolutely not. Eighty-twenty at least.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“The captain, of cour-”
“Self-proclaimed,” you retort. “Doesn’t bear much weight with only a crew of two and each of us handling the work of at least five men. Seventy-thirty split since you want to be stingy.”
“Still too little.”
Your eyes narrow in irritation while his smug smirk never wavers.
“Seventy five-twenty five.”
“Fifty five-forty five.”
“Is that really any different from your initial offer of a fifty-fifty split?”
“That’s a five percent increase.”
“Yeah, only five percent.”
Jade chuckles from where she leans against the counter. The treasure has been fully cleared out and taken elsewhere. All that remains is an empty crate on the ground.
“A five percent increase isn’t as narrow of a margin as you would think it is. Right now, that might not seem like much, but in the future when you start discovering more valuable and rarer treasures…”
She yawns and covers her mouth with a delicate hand.
“Who knows? You could be looking at a gain of at least a couple thousand.”
Aventurine clicks his tongue and turns back to you. There’s one last offer you have before you give up and walk away. A new life in this town for the time being doesn’t seem too bad…
“Sixty-forty.”
He stills at your offer. Jade’s eyes are trained on him as she lightly fans herself with a feathered folding fan. Her snake watches the exchange with seemingly keen interest too.
“... You drive a hard bargain just like Lady Bonajade over here,” he grumbles as he forks over a portion of the credits to you. He leaves part of it on the counter, though.
“You have an innate sense for business,” comments Jade, as you leaf through the wad of bills. “Perhaps you’d like to refine it to its fullest potential?”
“Lady Bonajade, please stop trying to recruit every promising person that walks through your door.”
“It’s not just anyone I set my eyes on. It’s only those with exceptional talent that shine like gems in the rough,” she corrects. Her gaze flicks over to you again.
“Should you ever grow tired of a life at sea and wish to attain everything you desire… you know where to find me. I have branches all over the seven seas. I’ll be patiently waiting.”
Aventurine hurriedly hands you the stack of credits he set aside earlier.
“We’re running low on supplies. I still have business to discuss with her, so why don’t you go and pick them up for me?”
You nod and leave. The door shuts behind you, and Jade’s welcoming demeanor immediately disappears as soon as the shop is plunged into darkness again. Even though the climate is temperate in this stretch of the ocean, the temperature drops considerably. Her snake comes out of hiding and openly hisses at him. This time, she does nothing to reprimand it.
“I see you’re planning to let a considerable asset go. My best advice for you would be to not.”
Aventurine barks out a laugh and meets her cold tone with one of his own.
“Meddling in my affairs, you damned sea witch-“
“You would do well to learn some manners from them, child,” she all but snaps. “Remember, I don’t give out advice for free. When I do, it’s because I see a great return of my investment in you on the horizon. It would be in your best interest to listen.”
She hisses the last word out and her pet snake does the same. Aventurine’s heart is racing, but he shows no sign of it.
“A businesswoman through and through,” he remarks dryly. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you called them an asset.”
“Oh? As if you see them any better than I do. At least I recognize their value. You, on the other hand, have seen them as a nuisance this whole time.”
She sighs. “Such potential headed straight to ruin under your care. It’s quite a waste. Perhaps I should take them under my wing instead, the same way I did with you… Better yet, why don’t I put them through the same refinement process the way I did with you? It’ll be a valuable learning experience for you both.”
Aventurine bristles, and Jade smirks, knowing she has the upper hand now. He’s reminded that just like that, Jade can take away everything he’s fought for. And shape the rest of your life to what she has envisioned.
“You will have them remain as a crewmate upon your ship. Don’t think I’m unaware of how your wounds are coming along. This is in your best interest as much as it is mine. Understood?”
He numbly nods. Jade hums happily and pats him on the shoulder.
“Good child. I expect even greater things from the two of you combined.”
There’s a knock at the front and the door swings open. The sudden brightness of the sun makes him squint, but he can see you standing there with several boxes behind you and some burly men carrying them.
“Captain, I picked up all our supplies. Is there anything else you need me to handle?”
“No, tell them to take them back to the ship. Wait there. I’m almost finished here.”
You nod and the door closes again. Jade turns to him with a knowing look in her eyes as she pulls away from the counter to head to the back again.
“Captain,” she repeats with a teasing lilt.
“Stop that,” he grumbles. She checks the time and barely spares him a glance over her shoulder as she retreats behind the curtain again.
“The time for conversation has ended. Go now. It isn’t polite to keep your partners waiting for any longer than necessary.”
Just as he’s about to head out the door, he’s stopped by her again.
“Don’t disappoint me now, child.”
The only response she gets is the door slamming shut.
He finds you waiting by the ship as instructed. You don’t even get the chance to ask him what happened as he pushes past you roughly and hoists the sails. Wordlessly, you weigh the anchor and as you set sail, Aventurine finds himself more thankful than ever for your ability to read the room.
Yes, he barely tolerates you. He never wanted a second person aboard to begin with. But anything is better than catching Jade’s attention. From personal experience, it takes a very special kind of person to stay one move ahead in her games and he knows you aren’t cut from that cloth. Most people aren’t. You’d maybe hold out for a bit with your hidden wit, but you’d inevitably be offered up as a loan in her many dealings, getting passed around from ship to ship as a highly sought-after medic until you’d work yourself into an early grave. Only then would she lose interest and only because your market value would be at zero.
His injuries have been healing nicely, but he still needs your care. He makes up his mind to let you stay on his ship for the time being. At least until Jade’s interest in you has died out or until his injuries are completely healed. Whichever one comes first.
And that initial condition is forgotten about too. Jade’s interest in you never wanes and his scars have faded, but that’s not the reason why he lets you stay. You’re quite the handy person, proving yourself to be skilled in tasks outside of medicine. You surprise him with your skill in carpentry and business, although he already knows about the latter thanks to Jade. He’s a horrible cook, but you manage to save yourselves from starvation with your talent in the kitchen.
Aventurine begrudgingly admits that you’re also fun to be around as time goes on. You’re quite the charming storyteller with a never-ending trove of stories to share. Many of your nights are shared together under the starry skies with a tankard of rum in hand as he listens to your animated and slightly slurred narration of stories you penned earlier that day, or accounts about your former life in a port town and the… interesting experiences you’ve had.
“Interesting” is putting things lightly, he decides one night after you described how you chased off some unsavory pirates looking to rob your office of valuable medical supplies with a saw and a kitchen knife. And chased off? More like scared half to death.
He also learns that you’re musically gifted as well. He’s off pawning off your latest treasures while you wander around after gathering necessary supplies as per usual. You had agreed to meet back on the ship but he instead finds you standing in front of a music store, eyeing the instruments they have on display in the window.
“You play?” he asks as he approaches your side.
“Yeah,” you respond without taking your eyes off the window. “Was how I made money before I became a certified nurse. I’d take a gig every night at the local tavern and see how much money a crowd of drunk men was willing to throw at me.”
“And?”
“You’d be surprised. If there’s one thing pirates are good at, it’s getting drunk and throwing their earnings at the first pretty thing they see after months at sea.”
“Do you still want to play?”
You tear your eyes away from the display to meet his gaze for a second, before looking away again.
“... Part of me misses it. Just a bit.”
“...”
You leave the store with a skip in your step and the nicest violin they had for sale in your hands, courtesy of your captain. Music now drifts through the ship and sometimes you’ll perform what you’ve been practicing for him after dinner. He’ll clap along, but you notice he never sings or even hums along…
You have company now as well. Long after you’ve weighed the anchor, you discover a stowaway onboard in the form of a black cat tearing through your food stockpiles.
“You thief!” you exclaim as you lift it by the scruff and hold it up to eye level. It’s tiny… is it a kitten or just malnourished? It meows pitifully and licks the finger you extend after cautiously sniffing it, a little sliver of pink peeking out and scraping against your skin.
The poor thing is… kind of… cute.
“Oh? What’s this?” comes an irritatingly familiar voice behind you. You spin around to see the familiar visage of your captain smiling down at the cat in your hands with amusement. “A stowaway, eh?”
“I caught this little thief digging through our rations. Captain, what do you suggest we do?”
He raises his eyebrows in feigned shock. A hand comes up to stroke his chin as he thinks.
“A heinous crime,” he proclaims with drama dripping from his words. “A fitting punishment for a crime is needed.”
“Your verdict?”
“The cat can put itself to good use by staying aboard our ship and hunting down mice. Cats are also a symbol of good luck on ships, you know.”
Without further ado, he swoops in and snatches the cat out of your hands. It purrs loudly as he strokes its cheeks.
Didn’t take much convincing for him to fold, you think as you scratch its chin. It closes its eyes and its ears twitch.
“Shouldn’t we give it a name? Captain, any suggestions?”
A big mistake on your part.
“How does the name Doubloon sound?”
“... Doubloon?”
Aventurine sets the cat down and tosses a gold coin out there. The cat immediately goes running after it, green eyes wide and pupils dilated. It pounces on the coin and tussles with it, biting on the metal like its prey.
“Never mind. It’s fitting. Doubloon it is.”
It’s nice, he admits. He has a handy crewmate who is capable of all sorts of tasks and can deal with his antics, surprisingly. He decides to let you stay aboard indefinitely now. And the cat is a nice bonus too.
Your captain isn’t half-bad company either. He’s still just as annoying as the day you met him, even more so if possible since you’ve gotten to know him. He’s an insufferable flirt, mainly toward you, but also toward others when he wants something. He’ll whisper teasing remarks in your (their) ears, all meant to get under your skin and have you (them) right where he wants. Teasing kisses on your (their) hands and cheeks are commonplace. (Who does he see when he kisses and charms those around him? You or them?) He has a raging gambling addiction, perfectly demonstrated by how he splurged on a poker table and a roulette wheel after only a few discovered treasures. (It doesn’t help how you keep losing every time he challenges you for a round or two.) He never opens up about his past even though you’ve all but spilled your life story to him, from childhood till now. He’ll do as he pleases without warning you beforehand, giving you a scare when he decides to bet his life at a casino or venture deeper than he should into a jungle on a hunch that “there’s more hidden treasure to be found just ahead!”
(You later scold him for his suicidal tendencies while bandaging his wounds with more force than necessary, reminding him that you can hold your own in a fight too! Newly acquired treasure sits just outside the door to the infirmary and he’s beaming all the while, so any hope of changing his mind fizzles out.)
But for all his shortcomings, he makes for a good captain. When confronted by a much larger pirate crew that thinks you’re easy pickings, he first pushes you to safety before diving in headfirst. He distributes treasure fairly and recognizes the value you hold as a medic, always ensuring you have more than enough allotted credits to restock on medicine at every port town. You never find yourself wanting for anything and your days are peaceful. You can sleep in as late as you want and you always have plenty to eat and drink. The ship’s supply of alcohol is always well-stocked with your favorites. You’re richer than ever before and money is of no worry to you now.
The ship also gets several upgrades. After every successful treasure hunt, she gets renovated and upgraded. More masts, an additional sail, a shiny new hull, until there was nothing left of its original structure. Aventurine now commands a true beauty of a ship, one fit for a pirate crew… and perhaps one a bit too big for her measly crew. Most of the ship’s space remains empty. But your quarters are spacious, even bigger than your old room on land. It’s filled with trinkets you’ve collected on your journey and fluffy pillows, and directly connected to the infirmary through a door to make things easy. Even a doctor on land would be envious of the conditions, with plenty of medicine stockpiled and clean from floor to ceiling.
“Shouldn’t we give her a name?” you ask as you set sail the day the last of her original foundation is stripped away. He hums and nods.
“You’re right. Got any ideas?”
“You’re the captain of this ship. You should be the one to decide, not me.”
Aventurine strokes his chin and thinks for a bit.
“How about the Lady Luck?”
“... Seriously? You picked something gambling related?”
He lazily shrugs and grins.
“I’m a gambling man through and through, darling. What else were you expecting from the likes of me?”
A single multicolored eye greets you as he tosses and flicks the poker chip he stole a while ago back and forth. The other eye is obscured by a bejeweled eyepatch and you’re the only one who knows the reason why.
During your first clash against another pirate crew, Aventurine had shielded you from an attack and potentially saved your life. Unfortunately, he couldn’t move away in time and took a knife to the eye. You had worked tirelessly around the clock that night to save his vision, but you weren’t able to. It’s a regret you carry with you at all times now.
“You’re right,” he agrees. When he notices you staring at his eyepatch, he grins.
“Still thinking about old times? Let bygones be bygones now, (Name),” he jokes as he lifts the eyepatch up, revealing the cloudy iris that indicates his vision loss. His words don’t have the intended effect though, and you wordlessly trail your finger down the scar cutting cleanly through the center of his brow bone to his cheekbone. He tenses a bit at the contact, but relaxes at your gentle touch after a few moments.
“Do you… ever regret what happened that night?”
“No,” he admits without any hesitation. “I may have lost my vision, but I saved my pretty nurse who stitched me back together and fretted over me afterward, and that’s enough to make a man do anything. And… well… for my eyes, let’s just say I’d rather gouge them out most of the time.”
“I won’t let you,” you state bluntly and it’s the way you say it that makes Aventurine laugh.
“Of course you wouldn’t, sweetheart. You’re my voice of reason.”
“But why? Do you not like them?”
Aventurine struggles to find the words for once and he makes a face like he’s tasted something bitter.
“… Not particularly,” he admits. There’s a scowl on his face. “They’re unnatural. Don’t tell me you’ve met another person with eyes like mine?”
“Well, that’s true, but-”
Venom creeps into his voice and his scowl deepens.
“There’s so many rumors swirling out there now. Haven’t you heard?”
“No,” you answer truthfully. Aventurine hopes you never hear any of the horrible rumors surrounding him.
You sigh and push his bangs out the way of his good eye.
“I think they’re quite pretty, actually.”
It’s supposed to be an innocent compliment. They really are pretty. Like the colors of a winter sunset, but more intense.
But to your surprise, your captain flinches at your touch and it sends a shock wave of guilt through you. He never shies away from your touch, instead always seeking it out like a spoiled house cat.
To make matters worse, he gets up and leaves. But before he does, you glimpse the expression in his eyes- guilty and defensive, like a wounded animal. The door to his quarters slams shut behind him and all you can do is stand there, frozen with shock.
“What pretty eyes. Tell me, do they shine in the dark?”
Aventurine leans against his bedroom door and quietly groans. He knows you meant it as a genuine compliment and that it was wrong of him to react the way he did, but he can’t help but wonder if you’d still think of him the same way if you knew about the story behind his eyes. Would you think of him any less? Aventurine doesn’t think he’d be able to bear it if he ever saw you look at him with hate and disgust. Or even worse, if you’d end up like everyone else, waiting for the day those eyes grew dull and lifeless.
… He’d gouge his eyes out and walk the plank if that ever happens.
He can’t stop himself from spiraling until he hears a knock at his door.
“Captain?”
He quietly laughs. You always did have a knack for showing up at the perfect time.
The door cracks open, and he sees you standing there with a worried and guilty expression. It makes him feel even worse. It’s not your fault. You wouldn’t have known because he never told you, and he was hoping it’d stay that way, but it looks like he won’t be able to take the coward’s way out on this one.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t realize my words would affect you that much.”
“It’s alright. I know you meant it as a compliment. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
You narrow your eyes at him in confusion.
“Then why…?”
Aventurine lets out a resigned sigh and steps out onto the deck again, suddenly finding his quarters stuffy.
“It’s a long story. But would you like to hear?”
“I have plenty of time.”
Sitting side by side on the deck that night, he tells you everything about his past that he’s willing to reveal. Some parts have a clever twist that hides the truth while others have been outright omitted. But it’s the closest version of his backstory that he can share without coming clean, and he’s not ready for that- not yet, at least.
“I’ve failed in this aspect of being captain,” he admits as silence blankets the air after his story. “I’ve been keeping too many secrets from you.”
“Captain, everyone’s got their own skeletons in their closets. I know and trust you well enough by now to understand that if you’ve been keeping something secret from me, it’s because you’re not ready to share it, and I respect that.”
You sigh and look up at the stars overhead. It’s a perfectly clear night with mild winds and calm seas.
“… It’s just that one day, I do wish you’d open up more. We’ve been with each other since day one and I’ve told you everything there is to know about me. It would be nice to know a bit more about you.”
He swallows nervously.
“And what if doing so makes me a bad person?”
You fix him with that stare that makes his spine tingle uncomfortably. It’s the look you give him whenever you suspect he’s lying during checkups and you’re prying for the real answer.
“… Well, we’re pirates after all. We’re not exactly good people, are we?”
He can’t help the laugh of relief that escapes him.
“Yeah, you’re right. We aren’t.”
Aventurine also likes to… spoil you, to put it lightly. As your finds become more valuable, the amount of credits he spends on you grows. Clothes are a common gift. Thin silks that feel like you’re wearing nothing, plush furs to drape yourself in, heavy down-stuffed winter coats for ventures up north, and frilly dresses that are a better fit for royalty in your eyes are all sent your way. It’s not an uncommon sight to return to the ship and see several men struggling under the weight of all his purchases while you were busy restocking. It gets to a point where you tell him to stop because your closet is overflowing, but he never listens. “It’s the least you deserve,” is what he always says. “Anything for my beloved nurse that has stuck with me through thick and thin!” At least half of the space in your formerly spacious quarters is now occupied by overflow from your closet.
You also get an upgrade to your uniform around this time. Before, it was whatever you had lying around, but now you have a dedicated set of dresses and pinafore aprons, as well as a nurse’s cap to top it all off.
Cosmetics are also another common gift. He’ll constantly gift you lipsticks with the request to try them all on or expensive perfumes he knows you’ll like. He even gets you an elaborate vanity at one point to store everything. It’s a beautiful, heavy thing made from bronze and requires the strength of four men to carry. There’s a large mirror in the center with ornate molding surrounding it and two smaller ones flanking it. You’ll often see Aventurine leaning against the doorframe through one of them, watching you with a bemused look as you get ready in the morning.
(That is, until you begin throwing pillows at his head and yelling at him to get out.)
But you begin to notice some strange things about your captain as time goes on. You’ll struggle with a chunk of meat during dinner while his unnaturally sharp teeth will tear through it with ease. They’re especially noticeable whenever he smiles, genuine or not. The large, sharp canines gleam under the sun. At one point, you asked if he purposefully sharpens them, partially as a joke, but also out of genuine curiosity. He had thrown his head back and laughed, but he didn’t answer your question. Sometimes, late at night when he thinks you’re asleep, you’ll peek out from behind the door and see the ghostly fire dancing around his blue fingertips. Aventurine’s outfits get progressively more gaudy and flashy as time goes on, and one thing he adds to his wardrobe rotation are metal nail guards. But even so, you notice his fingernails peeking out from underneath that are better described as claws. Heavy gold chokers and necklaces stacked on top of each other are an obligatory part of his look but on the rare occasion he decides to ditch the weight and opts for a high-collared linen shirt instead, you swear those are scales you see peeking out beneath the slipping collar after a long day.
But you merely look the other way. As long as Aventurine remains a good captain, you don’t care who- or what- he is.
It’s around this time you get the third addition to the crew as well.
You’re docked at a pristine port town, which is a rarity to come by. White houses with blue roofs line the cliff sides. The streets are white too and the stone used to form them has been worn down and smoothed out by years of wear and tear. The warm air smells sweet and salty and vaguely of hay. In the town square, it transforms into something heavier and richer. The flowering trees blooming throughout make the air feel almost thick, while the persistent smell of sunbaked herbs and the local cuisine follow you everywhere from the restaurants and food stalls.
Aventurine is pawning off your latest finds at yet another Bonajade Exchange branch (??? Seriously, how many branches does this pawn shop have?) while you’re enjoying yourself in the town square, having already picked up on supplies and sent them back to the ship. The town comes to life at night. There’s a live band playing on a stage set up a few minutes prior with people dancing and drinks being passed around openly even though you’re in the middle of the town square and not in a tavern. You indulge a little, but eventually decide you’ve had enough for the night after a few too many men were too insistent on buying you a drink even after you’ve declined their offers.
The rocking motion of the ship would make most people nauseous, especially someone that just had a few drinks, but you’ve long since gotten used to being at sea. Solid ground underfoot feels unfamiliar now and you let out a content sigh once you’re finally back in your quarters. You get settled in for the night as you wait for your captain to return and proudly show off his earnings from a night of gambling, like he always does. A candle is lit, filling your space with warmth and light as you resume reading a book that Aventurine had picked up for you earlier today.
You’re not sure how long you read for, but when you next look up, you’re shocked at how dark it is outside. A quick glance at your candle that’s almost burnt-out on the nightstand tells you it’s been at least a few hours- and yet, no sight or sound of your captain onboard. It’s silent, save for the sloshing of the waves against the hull outside and the crackling of the wick’s flame as it fights for survival.
Shouldn’t he be back by now?
Curious and concerned, you go searching. Knowing him, he’s either drinking or gambling the night away. With some guidance from the locals, you scout out every tavern and casino in town for him. A quick peek into the windows or door is enough for you- there’s no sign of his blond hair or ostentatious pirate hat anywhere. As an added bonus, catcalls follow you everywhere and it’s enough to make you want to punch your captain in the face when you do see him.
After a while of running around, you’ve just about had it. You’re exhausted, it’s late, and there’s still no sign of him. Where the hell could he have run off to now?
At your wit’s end now, you look at your surroundings and realize you’ve ended up at a university. You do remember seeing a map of the town the day you docked and recall a university in the northernmost reaches of the town limits. This is probably it. And from the looks of it, it’s not that big. Just a few buildings make up the entire campus.
One thing you notice walking around is a flight of stairs leading up the cliffside to what you assume to be an observatory at the top. It’s not off-limits, so you take your chances and ascend the stairs. It’s a clear night and you’re sure you can get a great view of the town from here. But as you climb, you hear voices drifting down. One of them sounds vaguely like… your captain?
You pick up the pace. The stairs are steep and uneven in some areas. Some steps are wet from what you presume is rainwater and you almost fall on several occasions. (The things you do for this man! He should be thankful that you’re always there to ensure his sorry ass stays in line.)
You’re not sure what you were expecting once you reached the observatory, but it certainly wasn’t… this. You see your captain alright, but he’s pressed against the railing that’s the only barrier between him and a long fall down to the turbulent waters beneath. A man with violet hair who you’ve never seen before faces him with his back toward you, pressing a gun against Aventurine’s chest. Strangely enough, Aventurine doesn’t look terrified. In fact, he seems to take delight in the precarious balance his life hangs in, even going so far as to press the barrel of the gun closer to his chest with that same taunting grin on his face all the while. His cheeks are flushed, but whether that be from alcohol or… something else is up for debate. You’re already used to his suicidal tendencies, but just seeing his face after the events of today pisses you off even more.
“Come on, doc. It’ll be worthwhile, I promise. You surely can’t be satisfied in a place like this, am I right?”
“Captain.”
That blissful look on his face vanishes in an instant, replaced by realization and pure fear. The other man turns around and golden eyes meet your ticked-off gaze. You brush the stranger aside and storm over to Aventurine, who looks more terrified of your wrath than any weapon.
“So this is where you’ve been this entire time. Did you lose track of time or something? Because it’s been hours since you were supposed to return! I was running around town, looking like an idiot trying to find you.”
He holds his hands up like he can defend himself from the onslaught coming his way. You jab your finger at his chest and he pouts as he looks away shamefully.
“(Name), at least hear me out first!” he whines. When you raise an eyebrow, he points over at the other man, who clicks his tongue and pointedly looks away.
“I found ourselves a potential third crewmate and was trying to convince him to join! But it doesn’t seem to be working… Care to try your hand?”
“That’s just another way of saying you’re pawning off the hard work to me!” you complain. And yet you humor his demands anyway.
“You are?”
He hmphs and rolls his eyes. Already, he pisses you off.
“Dr. Veritas Ratio, teacher and scholar. And you are?”
“Nurse (Name), working aboard the Lady Luck under the command of our Captain Aventurine.”
“... Said captain is on the verge of collapsing from alcohol poisoning behind you.”
It’s true. He’s clinging to the railing for dear life, the drinks from earlier catching up to him and hitting like a sledgehammer, you imagine.
“Aeons, how much did you drink earlier?” you grumble as you hoist one arm over your shoulder and awkwardly drag him along. He merely hums and buries his nose into your hair, tripping over his two feet as he attempts to walk.
“Mm… You smell nice, (Name). Like the new perfume I got you… hehe…”
“Answer the question, Captain.”
He opts to press his nose into your hair and inhale.
“Oh, not that much. Just… y’know… a couple tankards of beer.”
Meaning that he’s definitely had at least five of them and counting.
“… I’ve heard everything I needed to hear.”
Thankfully, Dr. Ratio seems to be adept at reading social cues and assists you with helping him down the stairs, albeit slowly and awkwardly. You invite him onto the ship and after taking a look around the medical quarters, he makes himself comfortable at your desk. He seems quite pleased, so you take it as some sort of roundabout compliment as you busy yourself with getting your captain to bed. You flip Aventurine over into the recovery position, who flops around aimlessly like a rag doll. Soon enough, you hear him faintly snoring. When you return, Dr. Ratio has taken one of the books shelved on your desk and began thumbing through it.
“You have medical knowledge?” you ask once the door behind you is shut. He barely looks up from the book and continues flipping through its pages.
“I have the title of ‘doctor’ for a reason.”
A doctor. An actual doctor. One step above you, a nurse. He had access to an education far out of your reach, and you had fought tooth and nail for yours.
You can’t help but feel the first pangs of jealousy sink their claws into you and you avert your eyes, humiliated. What purpose would you have aboard the ship should he join as a doctor? What’s stopping your captain from deciding the man in front of you can do everything you can plus more and throwing you off the ship? Granted, any medical professional, doctor or not, is highly sought-after on pirate ships and you believe your captain is above tossing you aside after you’ve already proven your loyalty to him. But the knowledge that he will always be regarded as one step above you, seen as more valuable, is enough to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Overthinking things, are we?”
He meets your gaze with a sharp look of his own.
“Don’t give me that look. Only a fool who wallows in their own ignorance would do such a thing.”
You hadn’t realized you were glaring at him until now.
“Sorry,” you half-heartedly apologize, taking a deep breath to relieve the tight ball of anger in your chest. You just met this man; you know it’s not right to be pissed at him over something like this, but you can’t help it. You massage your temples and gesture for him to continue.
“I am well aware that you are the longtime nurse aboard this ship, and while I have no doubt you’re just as ignorant as the other fools who proclaim themselves to be intelligent and respected in their fields-“
Is he insulting me to my face?!
“- I will acknowledge that you are at least deserving of your title for keeping you and this ship’s captain alive all this time. A commendable feat considering your lack of a higher education. I thus have no intention of stripping you of your role.”
… Well, that’s your biggest concern addressed. Although, was the remark about your lack of education really necessary?
Now no longer worrying about whether or not you’d find yourself back at that place you swore to leave behind, you relax.
“Then what is your intention?”
He huffs and dramatically snaps the book shut.
“I am first and foremost an educator! My mission is to spread knowledge across the world until ignorance is a cured disease. And yet, the board of trustees at the university are doing everything they can to get me to stay. What a pointless endeavor!”
You cast a doubtful glance at him.
“... But you’re a professor. A fresh batch of students is a fresh batch of minds to educate. Isn’t academia where you thrive?”
Dr. Ratio huffs, like he’s having to explain something repeatedly to a child that doesn’t understand.
“Zero points! How can I possibly be content with my situation, knowing there’s a whole world of ignorance out there just waiting to be fixed? Besides, we don’t get many applicants per year.”
“Would you like a way out then?”
After a beat of silence, he sets your book down and turns to face you fully for the first time that night. You take in his ruby-rimmed golden eyes, the color of the sunset a few hours ago, that hold the weight of a genius’s expectations behind them.
“Are you offering me a position aboard the ship?”
“That depends. What skills do you have?”
He puffs his chest out proudly.
“I have eight doctorates in the fields of biology, medicine, natural theology, philosophy, physics, mathematics, engineering… oh, and astronomy. You would be hard-pressed to not glean some value.”
That last part catches your attention.
“Astronomy, you say?”
We are in need of a dedicated navigator… Aventurine can’t be at the helm 24/7.
You turn your attention back to Dr. Ratio, who meets your gaze with a tilt of his head and a raised brow.
“Something on your mind?”
“Have you ever tried your hand at being a ship’s navigator?”
He doesn’t look surprised at your question. It’s like he was anticipating it.
“I can’t say I have,” he admits. “But with my knowledge, it should be child’s play.”
“Don’t say that about something you’ve never tried,” you caution. “If you’re really interested, meet me back here at the docks this time tomorrow night. We’ll see how you do.”
The next night, he’s waiting at the docks with several bags lying beside him. Hm, he must’ve packed all his belongings for a life at sea now. Aventurine whistles at him as you lead him aboard.
“Looks like you’ve made up your mind already, doc. Told you so.”
If looks could kill, Aventurine would be at the bottom of the sea right now.
Once out on the deck, you hand him a sailing chart. Without a hitch, he dives right in. His spyglass is aimed at the sky as he examines the stars and their positions. With your help in hoisting the sails and Aventurine in steering the ship toward the right direction, you’re on track to your next destination.
“Not bad,” you praise. “You’ll need to learn how to steer the ship and how to hoist the sails, but you can learn that in due time.”
“That settles it then, I suppose,” comes Aventurine’s voice from behind. The soft glow of a tea candle flickering within a lantern fills the space as he steps into view.
“Welcome aboard, Ratio.”
He proves to be quite a skilled navigator, and you’re thankful you managed to snatch him up before any other pirate crew could. Even without a sailing chart or in stormy weather, he still manages to ensure you don’t veer off course. It’s truly remarkable, really, as even sailing from north to south is hardly a challenge for him.
He settles into the empty room next door to your quarters. Bookshelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, with several more stacked on his desk and bed. It perpetually smells like clean linens and chalk from the stash he burns through every week solving whatever problem piques his interest, written out on the rolling blackboard by the windows- or through hurling them at your captain with terrifying strength and speed. Sometimes, you’ll stop and stare at the board for a bit, only to give up after realizing you can’t understand a lick of it. It’s usually something physics or math related. If he’s in the room as well, he’ll try explaining it to you, but it all ends up flying over your head anyway.
Soon enough, he lets you call him by his first name without the title out in front- a privilege not even your captain has. When not found on the deck, he can either be found reading and solving problems in his quarters, or hovering by your side.
“Rum mixed with… lime juice?”
You’re in the kitchen, surrounded by supplies. A new shipment of rum and citruses sits in the corner and you’re going through them, preparing the crew’s rations of alcohol.
You nod and toss the rinds over your shoulder into the garbage.
“Stagnant water on ships is a gold mine for diseases and pests. Alcohol is usually a safer alternative, and while the captain and I painstakingly ensure the water onboard is safe to drink…”
You shrug and take an experimental sip of the mixture. The strong burn of alcohol all but scorches your throat on the way down, but it’s a sensation you’ve long grown accustomed to, even liking it by now. The addition of lime makes you purse your lips and raise your brows approvingly. It would be even better with some sugar but alas, it’s a very costly material to transport, even by Aventurine’s standards.
“I suppose there are some vices that just can’t be shaken, like a pirate’s love for alcohol. The lime also prevents scurvy. I bet they don’t teach you this in med school, do they?”
Veritas begrudgingly shakes his head.
“We’re taught about the dangers of scurvy and waterborne disease obviously, but never resort to such… crude solutions.”
You laugh and push a glass toward him.
“Well, this is your life now, and you chose it. Better get used to how things are done around here.”
“I’m not saying I have anything against your methods, as crude as they may be,” he scoffs as he eyes the drink in front of him. You think you see a hint of nervousness in his eyes and smirk. Perhaps it’s Aventurine’s influence rubbing off onto you, but you spot a perfect opportunity to tease him.
“Drink up. Cheers,” you say, raising your glass in a toast. “It’s not half-bad, I promise.”
He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a hesitant sip before sputtering dramatically, face scrunched up in an amusing expression of disgust. You all but cackle at his reaction and down half your glass in one fell swoop.
“Liar,” is all he can manage out as he chugs water to chase away the burn of the drink.
“You’ll be singing the same tune I am in just a few months’ time. Just wait and see, I guarantee it.”
“Or that’s just your alcoholic tendencies speaking.”
“Never claimed I wasn’t one,” you respond with an eye roll as you finish the last bit of your drink. He looks at you with an expression of faux disgust as you leave, then looks down at his drink again as soon as the door closes. With a sudden burst of effort, he downs all of it. Veritas feels like he’s about to start breathing fire, but he holds it in for a few seconds before shakily exhaling.
“… It’s passable, I suppose. Five points.”
It’s some time after this that you welcome your fourth member aboard.
You’re docked at the only port to a mining town that, to your eyes, is on the verge of becoming a ghost town. It’s not winter yet, so the town hasn’t completely frozen over and snowed in (which is common this far north) but it’s still so bitingly cold. Supposedly, this is the warmest it gets year-round, but you still find yourself shivering underneath all your layers as you pace back and forth to prevent your limbs from turning into icicles. Even Aventurine, who likes to drink and gamble the day away after docking, keeps things on land as short as possible before running back to the ship to warm up. (Not like there are any taverns or casinos in a place this miserable anyway.)
You’re only here because there’s a severe storm blocking your way and this was the only port that you could dock at. All others, including the one you had left, were too far away to even consider rerouting to. Aventurine is absolutely miserable at the situation and you’re no better. Veritas is probably the worst of you three, being even more snippy than usual and holing up in his quarters.
One thing you notice is the lack of trees. According to the locals, severe runoff from mining activities has led to trees spontaneously igniting from the industrial chemicals in the soil, leaving only burnt sticks behind. It’s quite sad, you think. The people here can’t even appreciate nature’s beauty.
Another thing you noticed as soon as you docked are the heavy respirators the residents wear. There are newer models on the market that are lighter, smaller, and just plain better, but the ones you see look like metal helmets from times of war rather than medical devices. They’re old, archaic and clunky. They cover the entire face and you can hear every labored inhale and exhale through the little grate in front of the mouthpiece.
It’s also so, so gray and dreary. A thick smog blankets the town thanks to the smokestack belching chemicals into the air. There’s a persistent acrid stench sticking to your clothes and skin and hair that no matter how hard you scrub, just won’t go away. Your throat feels scratchy and you’re always coughing and soon enough, you’re forced to don the same respirator everyone else does. You’re uncomfortably hot under the full face of metal and your neck is sore from its weight, while the vision in your left eye is always tinged red because of the glass used for the lens. You only wear it when you have to leave the ship, which is almost never. Aventurine laughed at how stupid you looked at first but before long, he was subjected to the same miserable fate as you.
“I can’t wait till we finally leave this place.”
“Tell me about it.”
On the day before you’re scheduled to finally depart, you decide to explore a bit further than you usually do. You hitch a ride with a resident past the outskirts of the town to the residential area. The pollution out here is significantly less, but still dangerously high by all standards. There’s actually vegetation out here! (Sparse blades of grass that haven’t been cut in ages and come up to your kneecaps. The soil is strangely wet and sticky and you wince after seeing the clumps of mud sticking to your shoes, even more so after recalling the extensive soil pollution plaguing the town.) Rows of identical concrete blocks are stacked alongside each other, meant to be bare-bones apartments. Faded slogans are painted onto the sides of them (“peace to the world!” is a common one you see) and there are small playgrounds out in front situated here and there.
It’s where you also find a girl around your age. She sits with her back to you as she hunches over something. It’s the bits of white hair peeking out from under the respirator that get your attention. You nudge the resident you’re walking alongside and look over at her.
“Who’s she?”
“Ah, that’s little Jelena. Though, she prefers to be called Topaz these days. Don’t ask me why.”
“What’s she working on?”
“Who knows? Beats me. All I know is she’s always mumbling something about leaving this place. Utter foolishness, if you ask me. Once you’re here, you’re never getting out.”
You stay put in your tracks examining her. She doesn’t seem to have noticed you, continuing with whatever she’s working on. The resident looks at you strangely but after a rushed and awkward wave goodbye, leaves.
“... Miss Topaz?”
She jolts and looks over her shoulder at you. Her respirator obscures her face but her posture is guarded and defensive. You can’t blame her.
“Who’re you? And how do you know my name?”
“A resident passing by told me.”
She takes a quick glance at you from head to toe.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
You laugh, hoping to dispel the tension and take a step forward. She looks a bit nervous, but hasn’t left yet. Good.
“What gave it away?”
“Nobody here has clothes that nice and clean. Or hair that shiny and well-maintained.”
She tugs on her own rags and choppy hair for emphasis. Sensing an opportunity, you sit down next to her and take your scarf off, wrapping it around her. Topaz jolts but stills when she feels how soft the material is. With a sudden effort, she yanks the respirator off her head and tosses it aside carelessly to bury her face further into the scarf.. The underlayer of her hair is a shockingly bright red. You match her actions and toss yours aside too. The acrid smell of polluted air hits your nose but you maintain a pleasant smile even though you want to scrunch your nose up and start coughing.
“Keep it,” you say, patting her shoulders. She rolls the scarf fringe around between her fingers, marveling at how thick the yarn is and how it doesn’t fray immediately. “I have more clothes than I know what to do with.”
Topaz lets the scarf fall from her fingers and looks up at you behind untrimmed bangs.
“... Who are you?”
She’s curious now. An enigmatic smile graces your face.
“Would you like to know?”
A nod.
“Nurse (Name), serving the Lady Luck, a vessel operated under the command of our pirate captain Aventurine.”
“... Pirates?”
Your gaze drifts to her workbook. There’s still questions in her eyes but she turns toward you a bit more to give you a better glance at what she’s working on, sensing your curiosity. A chart filled with lots of numbers and scribbled calculations all around it.
“What’re you working on?”
“Accounting. I’m studying hard to get out of here. Everyone says I shouldn’t bother and just settle down with a husband already, but I have my sights set on something far greater than what this life can give me.”
You sympathetically hum and nod. There’s a loud squeak and something falls into your lap out of nowhere. It’s a… piglet?? Tiny for one as well. It squeals and flails around a bit in your lap until Topaz swoops in and lifts it up.
“Numby! Stop that!”
It squeals some more as Topaz continues lecturing it. You watch the exchange with a mix of confusion and concern for Topaz’s life.
“Is this… your pet?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. This is Numby. They’re not just my pet though! They can accurately sense where riches are located and over the years, have even learned how to perform jobs related to security, debt collection, and actuarial sciences!”
The expression on your face must speak for yourself because she laughs and tosses you a gold coin. Numby squeals and flails in her arms, trying to go after it, but Topaz doesn’t budge.
“Don’t believe me? Toss this coin out there and watch Numby go after it.”
You catch the coin deftly. Topaz covers Numby’s eyes and hands you a pocket knife. You raise an eyebrow.
“Go bury it. Give Numby a challenge. Not like it really is one, but make them jump over a hurdle or two.”
“You can use weapons?”
“Course I can.”
She looks up at the perpetually gray sky and the plumes of pollution being spewed out.
“There’s not a lot of people here, but life is hard and sometimes people try to take out their frustrations on those around them. Crime is a lot more rampant than you’d expect in a place like this, and unless you want to be robbed completely defenseless, it’s a given to always have something on you.”
You feel like your lucky stars have aligned and all the Aeons themselves are smiling down on you. By Aventurine’s luck, this girl is everything you need all in one package! You feel like this is hardly real.
“What weapons can you use?”
She shrugs. “Knives, mostly. They’re the most accessible around here. But I have experience with guns too. Swords as well. Nabbed them off the drunken sailors a while back to protect myself and Numby against some idiots who had the really bright idea to turn them into bacon.”
… You feel like you’re ascending right now. Everything is aligning exactly the way you need them to.
“Stolen a few times before, eh? Looks like you’ve already got experience in piracy.”
She scowls at you and you take that as your cue to bury the coin. You choose a location that’s a few apartment blocks down from hers. The knife sinks easily into the sticky, polluted soil as you dig a little hole before burying the coin. You avoid getting any dirt on your hands, not wanting to even think about what the contamination could and would do to your skin…
“Finished,” you call out as you make your way back to her. Topaz lifts her hand from Numby’s eyes and with a slap to the rear, sends the piglet running. They run faster than you expected them to with their stubby legs and soon disappear from sight.
“They’ll be waiting for us where the treasure is. But in the meanwhile, we can walk and talk.”
The two of you begin walking side by side, this time with less tension in the air.
“What a drag it is being pressured to settle for less,” you empathize, shifting the conversation back to the earlier topic. “What do you want to be?”
“A businesswoman of sorts, climbing up the ladder until I’m sitting at the top. Then no one can tell me what to do.” Even as she walks, she still continues to work, her pencil flying across the page as she performs calculations faster than you can keep up with.
You raise your eyebrows and let out an “ohhhhhhh” in response. A golden opportunity has presented itself.
“Well, what do you want in life then?”
“... I suppose it’s to solve problems. There’s many of them that exist in this world and I like solving them. It makes me feel nice, knowing I’m doing something to improve people’s lives.”
“Why not a teacher or something similar then? You’re quite good at math, after all.”
She shakes her head. “Not enough jobs in education around here. The nearest school is in the neighboring town, which is over half an hour away. The nearest university is several hours away in the city. There’s no demand for education in these parts, so there’s no supply of jobs and the current positions are occupied by people who’d rather die than resign.”
She flips to the next page and dives right in.
“But companies are always hiring, right? I heard from the sailors down at the dock that there’s a few that are rapidly growing and are in need of people. So that’s why I want to become a businesswoman. Because it’s the fastest way to achieve what I want- happiness. And that’s how a job should be.”
You drum your fingers along your arm excitedly and lean forward with a conspiratorial look on your face. Drawn in by your expression, Topaz can’t help but lean in a bit too.
“What if I said that although I can’t land you a job at a big company, I can guarantee you riches and a chance to explore the world? You can also finally escape those annoying aunties who keep pestering you about marriage and sending men your way who you can’t even bear to look at,” you whisper, temptation and promise dripping from every word.
Her pencil stills, she comes to a halt, and she looks at you fully for the first time. Her eyes are a brilliant purple with flecks of blue and yellow. Despite the harsh conditions surrounding her, they still retain plenty of life. Quite different from Aventurine, you think. Makes you wonder what he went through to have the life sucked out of his eyes.
But soon enough, there’s a scowl back on her face and she begins walking again.
“Money is a means, not an end. I may be poor, but I’m not studying out of greed. Work should make you happy. If that’s all there is to offer, then I won’t be happy and I can’t have that happening.”
“How does solving long-buried mysteries sound? It should scratch that problem-solving itch of yours.”
She hesitates and you can tell she’s starting to seriously consider your offer. You just have to keep pushing and choosing your words carefully.
“I don’t see how piracy helps anyone though,” she says stubbornly and you mentally sigh. She really wants to know what she’s getting herself into, huh? But that’s already two of her three needs you’ve got checked off and you already have a counterargument prepared for this.
“We only search for and discover buried treasure that no one has laid claim to and is free game for all interested pirates,” you calmly respond. “None of that town-looting business you might hear about from the sailors down at the dock. And should you wish to donate your share of money earned to philanthropic organizations or invest it elsewhere… you’re more than welcome to. We won’t stop you.”
From the look on her face, victory has already been secured. And yet, she looks uncertain. Unsure.
“But… Why me? Why little Jelena from this run-down mining town when there are so many smart, talented people out there waiting to be discovered?”
There’s a loud squeal up ahead and Numby is jumping up and down in front of the spot you had buried the coin. Topaz unearths it with the knife and pulls out the dirt-stained coin. So she was right. Even better.
You reach your hand out to her, just like how you did when you made your offer to Aventurine and Veritas.
“Why, it’s simple. We both get what we want. You get a ticket out of here and a hefty share of our riches, while we get a capable bookkeeper who prevents our captain from gambling away too much money, plus a master gunner who’ll defend the ship from foes.”
Your hand remains extended. She stares at it, then at you disbelievingly.
“I…”
You wave the gold coin you plucked out of her gloved hands without her noticing and wave it in front of her face.
“Every investment has its risks, right? I suppose it’s natural to want to pick the one that has the least risk involved when you’re putting down something as important and uncertain as your future as collateral. But you’re still young with plenty of time left and dreams unfulfilled. If you play it safe, you won’t be able to make a killing later on in life. My days are freer now. All of us are. And I know that freedom to do as you please is what’ll bring you that happiness you so desire.”
Silence greets you. You swallow nervously. (You hope she didn’t see it.) You’re no businessperson, but you know an opportunity when you see it. And this is one you absolutely cannot let slip through your fingers. You’re gripping the coin as tight as you can and your hands are cold and clammy beneath your gloves.
Her shoulders begin to shake. Your hand twitches and you think you’ve somehow upset her until she begins to laugh heartily. It’s loud and free, echoing off the walls of the apartment blocks. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve heard in this whole town.
“Wow, talk about a win-win situation! Just the way I like to go about doing business. Nurse (Name), I’ll be under your care going forward!”
She whistles for Numby, who comes running over, oinking.
“... You’re not bringing anything else with you? We don’t have to leave immediately, you know. We still got a whole day before we leave.”
Topaz shakes her head and lifts Numby onto her shoulders.
“Nothing worth bringing along. Besides, what’s a better way to signify a fresh start in life by leaving everything behind?”
“Not saying goodbye either?”
Her enthusiastic demeanor fades to something more solemn and her pace slows.
“... No one here supports my dreams. If they didn’t support me from the very start, they don’t deserve to see me at my proudest.”
You hitch a ride back to the docks with another resident. On the way back, Topaz nudges you in the side.
“Are you sure you aren’t a businessperson? That was a very solid offer you drafted and presented to me back there. I couldn’t have done much better myself. You’ve even got the silver tongue for success as well. Perhaps an ambassador of sorts, at the very least?”
You laugh and brush aside her compliments.
“I’m truly flattered, but I really am just a nurse onboard… oh. Right.”
“... Is something the matter?”
“It’s just… I never told our Captain that a fourth member might be joining us. Ah… he’s in for quite the surprise when we get back to the docks.”
In my defense, it’s not like I could’ve told him anyway while I was so far away from our ship…
Her face falls. Wait, you can’t have this happening already! Not when you just convinced her to join!
“I’ll vouch for you,” you quickly reassure. “He may be annoying and difficult to work with, but he’s not unreasonable. Besides, I’ve been a crewmate for the longest. If there’s anyone he’s going to listen to, it’s me.”
You find Aventurine lounging around in his quarters when you return. He gets up to welcome you back with an eager grin and an embrace, but pauses when he sees Topaz and Numby behind you.
“Oh? Who’s this?”
You plant yourself between them.
“Topaz, meet Captain Aventurine. You’ll be working under him from this day forward.”
As per his usual nature, he merely laughs and extends his hand. Topaz firmly grasps and shakes it.
“A new recruit,” he chuckles. “Welcome aboard the Lady Luck then. We could always use some more helping hands around here. (Name), why don’t you go show her around the ship?”
But there’s a look in his eyes that follows you into the late hours of the night, through showing her the layout of the ship and introducing her to Veritas who looked as if he couldn’t care less, and the extravagant dinner to celebrate her arrival.
You and I need to talk.
It’s only after everyone has gone to sleep that Aventurine seeks you out. Topaz is sleeping soundly in your bed and you’re leaning against the doorframe outside, waiting for him. When he does appear, the usual carefree smirk is gone, instead replaced by a more serious expression.
“Really? A new crewmate without my-”
You violently shush him.
“She’s sleeping!” you hiss. He rolls his eyes but listens all the same.
“... I’m not saying I’m doubting your ability to seek out talented people,” he begins, voice a whisper this time. “But what if she betrays us? And we’ve been just fine so far with the three of us. What can she do that we can’t?”
You roll your eyes.
“Aventurine-”
“Kakavasha.”
“What?”
His intense gaze doesn’t waver. Ghost fire sprouts from his fingertips and dances wildly around him. A wisp lands on your hand. It’s warm, pleasantly so.
“Kakavasha. That’s my real name. Call me that, but only when we’re alone.”
“... Really? You decide to finally open up in the middle of an argument?” you grumble. “There’s a time and place for everything, y’know…”
He blinks at you innocently and you resist the urge to push him overboard. Instead, you settle for coughing and swatting the wisp of ghost fire away from you.
“... As I was saying, Captain Kakavasha, she won’t betray us.”
“A bold statement to make with such confidence. How can you say for certain?”
“Kakavasha, this girl came from nothing. You saw the state of town she grew up in. No friends, no connections, no way out. But we gave her the escape she’s been looking for. She won’t sell us out, not while she’s indebted to us.”
You hear a sudden noise behind the door and freeze. It’s silent for several more agonizing moments until you finally relax. She probably just shifted around in her sleep. You really hope she didn’t wake up or hear any of that…
“But if she decides to leave of her own accord to chase her dream further, then who are we to stop her? Of course, even if she tries to turn us in, the authorities won’t be able to catch us,” you joke, trying to ease his fears.
Aventurine hums. He doesn’t look moved.
“So? What can she do that we can’t?”
… But he doesn’t press the prior topic any further so you assume it’s ok for now.
You beam and hold out the workbook you swiped off her earlier.
“Captain, we’ll have a dedicated accountant on board now! Just look at this. I saw her complete this entire page in no more than five minutes! Not only is she fast, but she’s accurate! Here, check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Aventurine takes it and examines it with an air of disinterest surrounding him. He glances at it for a few seconds before tossing it back.
“Yeah, it’s all correct.”
“But that’s not all!” you continue. “Her little pet that’s always following her? Apparently, they’re skilled in security, debt collection, and actuarial sciences!”
The silence that follows your statement speaks for itself.
“... Don’t look at me like that.”
“Are you drunk right now, (Name)?”
“Hey!” you exclaim indignantly, before remembering that Topaz is still asleep. “I am not! I’ll admit, I was just quoting her claims but her pet is really good at detecting treasure. I buried a gold coin and they found it with no trouble. Kakavasha, imagine how useful they would be.”
“Pigs are a symbol of good luck aboard a ship…” he mumbles to himself and it’s a sign you’re a step closer to convincing him.
“... Should we introduce her to Jade?” you ask. Aventurine looks at you like you’re insane. Then, as if considering your offer, looks at your door as if seeing through it to the girl sleeping in your bed.
“I know you’re good at math and business too, but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone else equally as skilled on board? With a bit of refinement from Jade, she’ll be just as qualified as any other licensed professional out there,” you plead.
He shakes his head. “If you want me to be the bookkeeper as well, I can do that no problem. If you’re adamant about her joining, you’ll have to try harder than that.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Your pain in the ass, sweetheart.”
“Shut up and don’t call me that, especially right now,” you growl. He merely hums and smiles, his expression strangely cat-like. He wants to make things difficult for you? Fine. Time to bring out the big guns then.
“She’s skilled with weapons.”
“...”
“...”
“How skilled? And with what types?”
Checkmate.
“Knives, mostly. But she has experience with guns and swords too.”
You can practically see the gears turning in his head and hear his thoughts. He must be thinking about the weapons piled away in the armory with no one skilled enough to use them. With Topaz on board, they’d be put to good use for once- and after enough training from her, there was nothing the crew would fear.
“... Of course, I still have to personally see what she’s capable of.”
He glances at the clock hanging above his dresser mirror.
“I’ll see to it tomorrow morning. Tell her to meet me on the deck first thing after waking up. I’ll be testing her aim and accuracy, among other factors.”
You’re woken up the next morning by the sound of gunshots. Several of them. Thinking you’re under attack, you scramble to your feet and stumble onto the deck only to see Topaz shooting some bottles lined up on the railing- and she’s hitting every one of them.
Aventurine takes in the sight of you in your pajamas and unbrushed hair. A snort escapes him.
“Good morning, my lovely nurse. Did you sleep well?”
… The nerve of this man. Then again, he did warn you the night before, so it’s not like you can blame him for your own forgetfulness.
He stops you before you can storm off though, beckoning Topaz over.
“Congratulations,” he says while clapping. “Thanks to my beloved’s recommendation and your mastery over weapons, I hereby welcome you aboard the ship as our master gunner, Topaz.”
She excitedly shakes his hand before enveloping you in a bone-crushingly tight hug.
“Thank you! I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll pay you back double- no, triple the amount of investment you’ve put in me. And I always deliver on my promises!”
Your thoughts are a whirlwind as you watch her run down to where your quarters are.
… But I never saw it as you owing me?
Aventurine’s light laughter pulls you out of your thoughts. You scowl at him as he stops before you, gently combing out the tangles in your bedhead with his fingers.
“Stop referring to me by those pet names. People are going to get the wrong idea about us.”
“Oh? I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”
“Veritas has already been giving me strange looks whenever he sees us two together. Add Jele- Topaz into the mix and I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”
“Handle what? Sweetheart, it’s just the four of us out on the open sea!”
He spins you around in his arms and you let yourself be dragged along.
“That’s exactly what I mean! And don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“You-!”
Topaz settles into the room across the hall from yours. While the space is initially barren, it quickly gets filled up thanks to you. She raids your overflowing wardrobe and takes whatever interests her periodically and half the time, you don’t even realize what she stole thanks to your captain constantly spoiling you. Cosmetics are another common victim of her theft, but it’s more noticeable, especially if it’s a perfume. Books that you’ve finished are piled up in her room and she’ll often come to you with questions about your thoughts after she’s finished reading one. Numby has their own little bed at the foot of hers and you’ll frequently see them chasing Doubloon around the deck.
It seems that Topaz is good at everything and anything she sets her mind to, because she becomes frighteningly skilled with weapons in a short period of time. Every day, she holds lessons teaching you all how to use an array of weapons, and she’s quite the skilled teacher too. But when class isn’t in session, she can often be found out on the main deck during a sunny day, humming a tune to herself as she cleans out the many pricey pistols and rifles you’ve plundered over the course of your journeys. Or by your side, but that’s a given by now.
She also gets… seasick. Rather easily too. It’s her one fatal weakness. She gets used to it over time, but if the seas are rougher than usual, it’s guaranteed that you’ll find her hurling into the ocean, face pale and hair sticking to her forehead. And sometimes, it’ll still happen even when the seas are calm! It gets to the point where she’s so fed up she goes to Aventurine himself and demands answers. But he merely tips his head back and laughs.
“That’s the Lady Luck for you! She’s a fickle one like her namesake. Sometimes, she’ll try and drown you just for spite. She keeps even me on my toes at all times and I’m her captain. Isn’t that right?”
Aventurine pats the shiny wooden helm. As if responding to him, she creaks and rolls precariously even though the waves are calm.
The four of you now are a complete crew. Incredibly small by all means, but a crew that operates smoothly like a well-oiled machine and one to be feared.
As there’s so few of you on board, all of you have to double down, or even triple down, on roles. Veritas is simultaneously the boatswain and navigator, while Topaz is master gunner and master at arms while also being the bookkeeper. You’re “the ship’s beloved nurse”, as so lovingly referred to by Aventurine, while also being the quartermaster. Smaller roles such as cooking and carpentry are handled on a day by day basis and whoever’s available at the moment- although it usually ends up being you after Numby ran amok in the kitchen and almost burnt the ship down.
Guess being second in command is the bare minimum you deserve after being with him the longest among everyone on board. Although, there’s no real sense of hierarchy when there’s only four of you in total…
Unlike other pirate captains out there, he wasn’t a rich man or a legitimate captain or even a high-ranking officer on a private vessel before becoming captain. Rather, there’s almost nothing known about him and it’s what makes others regard him with suspicion. How can a man who started off with nothing sail the seas with such ease, outshining even those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths?
But it’s all forgotten about in the face of his achievements- always going where no man has dared gone before and finding treasures beyond a pirate’s wildest imagination, as well as discovering several legendary treasures that have been lost for generations. Sea monsters that have been terrorizing ships for years meet their watery demise by your hand with Topaz leading the fray. Even the harshest of seas and weathering three days and nights with little sleep and food isn’t enough to shake your spirits. Mythical beasts meet death one after another and it’s around after the third creature slayed- a kraken whose single tentacle was longer than your ship measured from prow to stern, strong enough to crush her hull into splinters with ease- that you know you’ve made a name for yourselves. Whispers follow you everywhere you go on land and you’ll always hear dramatized retellings of your battles and treasures discovered while passing by taverns.
The bounty on your heads also increases with each treasure you discover. It wasn’t until the four of you banded together that wanted posters started being put out. The amounts offered started off small at first, but after more and more valuable treasures were discovered, the number of zeros at the end keeps increasing until it’s the staggering number it is today. It becomes a point of pride, seeing how quickly the amount offered spikes with each town you stop at and you’ll have a good laugh over it, especially if the authorities think they’re fast enough to arrest you. You’ll take your sweet time fleeing as officials scurry after you like drunken idiots with two left feet- and giving them a fair share of trouble too. By the time they catch up with you at the port, you’re already long gone with a stash of stolen weapons and alcohol onboard- and a horrifyingly long tab under their name at the local tavern.
All the while having a crew of only three under Aventurine’s command. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime kind of pirate captain.
As word spreads from port to port about his unbelievable luck in finding treasure, his reputation grows and so does the number of people looking to join his crew. At every port, he welcomes anyone wishing to join with open arms. But not everyone is worthy of joining. You secretly put every applicant through a series of tests to see if they’re qualified including, but not limited to: seeing what skills they have to offer that you don’t possess already, if they can handle Ratio’s admittedly hardass personality at times, if they can satisfactorily perform the jobs of upwards of three people, as well as their motives among others.
And of course, dealing with Aventurine. He’s in a category of his own.
As expected, none of them last more than an hour. Shame. More hands on deck would always be appreciated.
All of this leads to your reputation as a small but tight-knit crew that would defend each other to the death. Regardless of the size or might of the ship that dares to challenge you, you always emerge victorious. Whether it be down to dumb luck or the collective desire to protect home, no one makes it out alive after encountering you. It’s enough to tell other pirate crews to steer clear, especially after you had considerably roughed up other crews more than twice your size. After the first few encounters that resulted in many dead pirates, you all decide to raise a red flag. It warns others that your crew will refuse to spare the lives of any opponent that comes your way. You’ve actually seen ships turn and head the other way after seeing yours. Now, whether that be from the red flag or upon recognizing the Lady Luck, you’re not sure, but it means less work for you either way, so you aren’t keen on prying too deep.
Surprisingly, Aventurine doesn’t like to settle things with a duel unless he has to. Rather, his preferred method is with a game. He’ll invite the captain of the other ship below deck for a game of poker or blackjack rather than clashing swords and guns. The wager? The same as usual- the lives of the crew and the supplies on board. The loser and his crew would have to walk the plank and all treasures aboard would be handed over to the winning party. It’s not often it happens, but it’s still a nerve-wracking experience each time. Topaz had nearly passed out from anxiousness the first time he’d bet her life alongside yours and Ratio’s not long after she’d joined, while Ratio had lifted Aventurine up by the collar and nearly thrown him overboard. It was only thanks to your intervention and pleading that your captain hadn’t met his end that day.
… Safe to say, many a pirate crew have lost their lives and treasure this way.
Like the crew that was idiotic enough to challenge Aventurine’s luck and consequently met their end just a few minutes ago.
You watch as the captain of the ship anchored across from yours goes overboard with a resounding splash. His crew had already jumped before him.
“That’s the last of ‘em,” says Topaz as she confirms with the spyglass. “Ratio and Cap’n are going through and seeing what treasure they had. But what would we do about their ship?”
“Leave it. We don’t have any cannons on board to blast it to smithereens and it's not worth adding another vessel to our fleet.”
Veritas and Aventurine push several treasure chests across the gangplank. Once the last of them are on your ship, Veritas lifts the gangplank and weighs the anchor and soon, you’re off again.
“Let’s see what we have in here,” says Aventurine as you all stroll over curiously. He pops the lids off the chests and collective “oohs” and “aahs” fill the air as you marvel at the sparkling treasure filled to the brim inside. Aventurine lets out an appreciative whistle and lets a handful of multicolored gemstones slip through his fingers.
“Have at it. Go and take your pick.”
Veritas snatches up the sailing charts while Topaz lays claim to the abundance of weapons. Her eyes are sparkling as she looks at the weapons in much need of some love and a deep-cleaning, and you can already tell what she’ll be up to for the next week or so. Meanwhile, you go through the chests with slim hope they’ll contain some medical supplies. To your disappointment, but not surprise, you find none. You instead settle on some pearl jewelry that catches your eye.
“You guys barely took anything,” comments Aventurine as he peers into the chests again. “They’re still practically full.”
“That’s because gold and jewelry can only get us so far,” you remind him as he steps behind you to fasten the string of pearls around your neck. The cold metal of his nail guards and warmth of his fingertips lightly brushing over the nape of your neck make you shudder. From the faint chuckle that escapes him, your action didn’t go unnoticed.
“Credits are where it’s really at,” adds Topaz as she gets to sharpening and polishing a sword. Aventurine rolls his eyes and scoffs.
“Of course the budding businesswoman would say that.”
He barely ducks out of the way in time to avoid Numby being chucked toward his head.
Heavy wind and rain batters the Lady Luck later that night. But it’s cozy and warm beneath the deck in your dining room. Mismatched dishes and cups cover the round table the four of you are seated around, the food having long since been polished off. Numby is in a food coma by Topaz’s feet and Doubloon purrs contentedly in your lap. Veritas had gone off to bed earlier and Topaz is mumbling incoherently to herself, having drank more than she usually does in one sitting. With Aventurine’s help, you help Topaz to her feet and tuck her into bed while Numby sleepily trots after you.
The two of you are back in the kitchen, silently doing the dishes and cleaning the space. When you’re finished, you bid him goodnight until you feel his hand latch onto your sleeve.
“What is it?”
“... Stay. Please.”
“... Captain, did you have too much to drink at dinner earlier?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Not even tipsy.”
The pink flush on his cheeks makes you doubt his words, but you let him lead you toward his quarters. The space is warm and extravagantly decorated. Atlases and maps are piled atop the heavy wooden desk in the corner with several candles burning throughout that fill the room with light. His wardrobe is even more packed than yours, overflowing to the point where you can barely make out the original floor beneath the heaps and piles of clothing. You carefully step over what you believe is a pile of silken robes on the way to his bed, where you lay him to sleep amongst the many fluffy pillows and heavy blankets covering the mattress.
He stops you again as you’re about to leave.
“Don’t.”
“Captain, you have to go to sleep soon.”
“I’m not tired,” he argues childishly. “I have something I need to tell you.”
The uncharacteristic seriousness of his voice has you straightening up. You cast a glance at the door to ensure it’s locked as he sits up and drapes a luxurious fur over your shoulders. He pats the empty space next to him and after a moment of hesitation over the implications of getting into bed with your captain, you join him.
“Truth be told, I haven’t been able to sleep lately,” he laments. “I’ve been plagued by nightmares…”
It’s only now you notice the dark circle under his exposed eye and a pang of guilt strikes your heart. You cautiously remove the bejeweled eyepatch and expose his blind eye- a privilege granted to only you- and frown at the sight.
“How long has this been going on for?”
“A while now,” he grumbles. You click your tongue and your frown deepens.
“Why didn’t you come to me about this earlier?”
Aventurine rolls his eyes.
“Please. It’s nothing worth worrying your pretty head over.”
The remark has the opposite effect he intended. You glare at him and angrily tug on his ear.
“Captain, I think you’ve forgotten this, but it’s our duty to ensure you’re fit to sail even if you do piss us off to no extent at times. I’m responsible for ensuring you’re in good health, Topaz is responsible for making sure we can defend ourselves, while Ratio is in charge of making sure we don’t veer off course. We are all your responsibility just as much as you are ours.”
He sighs and looks away. Figures. He should’ve known better than to expect you’d let his neglectfulness slip by the wayside. Meanwhile, you roll your neck and irritatedly sigh.
“You mentioned nightmares. Do you want to talk about them?”
He keeps avoiding eye contact. With a resigned sigh, you lean against him languidly, head resting on his shoulder. Aventurine stiffens, clearly not used to touch, but relaxes after a few seconds. A hand comes to grasp yours.
“... They always start off the same way,” he begins. “We’re lost at sea somehow and there’s always foul weather. Amidst the lighting, a ghost ship is illuminated.”
He swallows.
“We then investigate that ship to discover that her hull is filled to the brim with gold and treasures alike, but no captain or crew on board.”
Aventurine begins fiddling with the poker chip he always carries on him.
“And this is where things can change. Sometimes, I’ll turn and see that she’s hung you all before my eyes. Other times you’ll all have gone overboard, drowned by a rogue wave snatching everyone up except for me. Sometimes she’ll even steal my sight. Either way, they all end the same way. I’m cursed to be her captain forever, sailing the seas without an end in sight. A captain that didn’t go down with his ship and left without a crew.”
He lets out a dry, humorless laugh and tucks the chip back into his pocket. You swallow dryly.
“Do you think it has anything to do with…?”
You look down at his hands, then back up at him. He doesn’t meet your gaze.
“... How much do you know?”
It sounds more like a threat than a question- but a weak one at that. You scoff and take his hands in yours, taking care to remove the nail guards one by one as well.
“What do you mean by that? Kakavasha, you know by now I couldn’t care less about who you are. And honestly, I’m kind of offended that you think I would,” you sigh as you remove his hat and the teal bandana wrapped around his head. “All this time together and I was under the impression you held me in higher regard than that.”
“Cut the theatrics,” he grumbles. You toss his hat and bandana off to the side and pull the blankets snugly over you both.
“But a ghost ship, hm?” you say, eyeing the stack of open books on his desk. “That’s never a good sign. Surely we’re not sailing towards our imminent deaths, right?”
He draws you closer as you roll over onto your stomach and gaze up at him with sleepy eyes. He feels his heart somersault at the proximity and your warmth seeping into the sheets. It’s an unfamiliar feeling he’s not quite comfortable with yet and tries to play it off with a laugh.
“I’d sure hope not.”
But it’s the first time he’s met your gaze this entire night. You meet his eyes unflinchingly, as you always do, with a lazy smile as you shift onto your side.
“... There’s no storm that Veritas can’t lead us out of,” you quietly reassure. “No monster that Jelena can’t kill. No injury that I can’t heal.”
A hand sneaks out from beneath the covers to grasp his.
“And no captain better fit to lead us through the storm than you. So chin up, ok? We’ll make it out together on the other side surrounded by calm seas just fine.”
Aventurine shakily exhales. There’s still more on his mind but… forget it. They’re not worth worrying you over.
“... If you say so, sweetheart.”
“‘Course I do. Because I believe in your abilities.”
He stares at you disbelievingly before bursting out into laughter.
“You really are something, you know? Something so incredible I could practically kiss you right now.”
“Then do it.”
Your gaze is steadfast like it’s always been ever since joining. Not once have you ever flinched away from witnessing every aspect about him, both pretty and ugly. Every reckless, stupid, horrible decision he’s ever made was an attempt to chase you off the ship so you wouldn’t see him for who he really is. But for some reason, whether it be your persistence or having figured out his motives, you’ve stuck around.
He’s a coward of a man at heart, but you’ve surely seen through his grandeur by now. You may pretend to be a mere nurse, but Aventurine knows that’s far from the case. You surely have to know his biggest, darkest secret by now, yes?
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll tell Ratio that you’re the one who’s been leaving obscene doodles on his chalkboard and Topaz that you’re the reason for Numby’s sudden weight gain.”
“Seems like my hand has been forced,” he chuckles. “Fine. You win this round, my beloved nurse.”
The rain continues pouring outside, but it’s still warm and dry beneath the deck. And if one kiss leads to something that lasts until the candles burn out, then…
That’s a secret for you to keep then, yes?
It’s not the sun that wakes you the next morning. Rather, it’s the weight of a blond man sprawled out on top of you that does.
“Kakavasha… get off me. You’re heavy and I can’t breathe.”
“Mmm… no. You’re comfy.”
His arms tighten around your waist as you flail around and try to shake him off.
“Captain, your duties and crew await you! Let go of me!”
After some more incessant squirming and an accidental kick to his stomach, he finally relents. You shake him off and get ready for the day, trying to not think about what transpired last night as you change and do your makeup. The mere thought of it is enough to make your face heat up several degrees…
When you’re finished, you peek into his room on the way to the main deck out of curiosity, only to see he’s still in the same spot you left him in. When he sees you glaring at him disapprovingly from the doorway, he perks up.
“Help me get ready?”
“Captain, you are a grown ass man.”
“Pretty please?”
He hurries to his feet and scurries over, before sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist. He fixates you with those big, watery dual-colored eyes and you just can’t bring yourself to say no even though you know he’s playing you like a fiddle
“... Fine. But just this once. And not a word to Ratio and Topaz, got it?”
“Understood, my dear nurse!”
You start by all but tossing his clothes toward him, then turning and facing the other way resolutely as he gets dressed.
“Won’t you help your poor captain out here?”
A loud “oof!” escapes him as you toss his long coat over your shoulder. The weight of it, gold embellishments and gems and all, knocks him flat on his back and onto his bed again. He takes his sweet time getting dressed after that, grumbling all the while until he’s done.
The wealth of accessories he wears are next. Aventurine slips on the pair of golden anchor earrings that are as heavy as one as you layer his necklaces the way he likes them. He preens like a bird under your attention and you have to fight back the comment likening him to a peacock that brews on the tip of your tongue.
You re-wrap the bandana around his head before placing his hat on slightly tilted- just the way he likes it. Almost done. Just one last touch before he’s ready. You pull out a tin of salve and dab it onto the scar over his eye. Aventurine scrunches his nose up in distaste at the strong herbal smell, but lets you do as you please. You pat it dry and secure his eyepatch, nodding in satisfaction at your handiwork.
“Perfect. There’s our captain, ready to command and conquer the seas.”
“I think you meant to say my captain, especially after last night. Weren’t you the one-”
You shut him up with a zealous kiss to the lips that has him sighing in bliss when you pull away, a dazed expression on his face and a pretty shade of pink on his lips that matches the one on yours.
For such an eccentric man, he sure can be predictable when you have him dancing in the palm of your hand.
The skies are cloudier and darker than you’d like them to be when you step out onto the deck. It’s also quite windy too. Veritas is lowering one of the sails while Topaz is on lookout duty. Upon seeing the two of you hand in hand, the former scoffs and rolls his eyes while the latter whistles obnoxiously.
“Good morning to you two lovebirds! I take it you had some fun last night?”
You chuck a pastry you had nabbed from the kitchen at Topaz to shut her up. She catches it deftly with one hand while Numby jumps up and down around her, pleading for a bite, but at least it worked. Meanwhile, Veritas is glaring at you with disgust in his eyes.
“What?” you ask innocently.
“I couldn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Oh. Oops.
“You’re just complaining because you’re jealous, doc,” interjects Aventurine with an arm thrown around your shoulder. The purple-haired man scowls angrily and turns on his heel, storming away angrily while grumbling something about the too-thin walls on the ship.
“And wipe that lipstick mark off your mouth,” he snaps at Aventurine. His face flushes guiltily while you snicker behind your hand.
Topaz lifts the spyglass away with a worried look on her face.
“Cap’n, there’s a storm brewing up ahead. A pretty intense one from the looks of it and because the winds are reaching us out here already.”
Normally, he’d laugh such concerns off and lazily give the order to circle around it. But this time, he wordlessly takes the spyglass from her and looks out toward the horizon where dark storm clouds are gathering and swirling.
“... Turn around.”
You think you’ve misheard him and so does everyone else.
“What?”
“Turn the ship around,” he quickly orders as he places the spyglass back into Topaz’s hands and hurries over to the helm. “If we go now at full sail, we should be able to outrun it until it dies out.”
Ratio and Topaz share confused looks but do as he says, obediently hoisting all the sails as Aventurine spins the wheel. The Lady Luck slowly turns around and soon she’s sailing ahead at full speed. Even so, the storm clouds aren’t getting any smaller.
There’s a level of urgency etched into Aventurine’s face that you haven’t seen before as he pushes the Lady Luck to her limits. His hands grip the wheel so tightly you think that any more and the wood would crack. It’s as if he’s trying to outrun something, especially with how often he looks back over his shoulder at the encroaching clouds blanketing the sky in pitch-black darkness.
Even sailing at near-top speeds, you still aren’t able to outrun the storm. Heavy clouds that bring with them an oppressive humidity and electrical charge to the air roll in rapidly, surrounding you on all four sides. There’s a strange buzz in the air and your hair begins to stand on end. There’s a small patch of clear sky in front of you that’s your only escape, and it’s rapidly shrinking.
Come on, just a little faster… just a little more…!
Her prow just barely breaks free of the storm when a sudden flash of lightning temporarily blinds you all. When you open your eyes again, it’s so dark you can only see a few paces in front of you. Not a single shred of light escapes the thick storm clouds rolling overhead that have finally completely moved in, and you realize the sky is tinged a sickly green when lightning flashes. The air is heavy and humid and mere seconds later, heavy, fat raindrops fall from the clouds, splattering angrily against the deck. The temperature plummets and the raindrops condense into giant hailstones, harshly stinging your skin as they pelt you and the deck with harsh cracks. The slippery surface of the deck and angry seas tossing the ship around as if she weighs nothing make it so that you’re constantly sliding into walls and hitting things.
You’re surrounded by the storm with no way out in sight.
Ratio lowers the sails as fast as he can and jumps down the second he’s done. Mere milliseconds later, the boom swings about violently toward the spot he was just at. A moment sooner and he would’ve surely died upon impact.
You regroup by Aventurine’s side, who’s staring at the churning waters with barely-concealed horror. Towering, white-capped waves crash mercilessly against her hull and spill onto the deck. The salty spray of the ocean shoots up as high as the masts and stings your eyes. The continuous gusts of winds threaten to rip the sails off the masts and howl against your ears. The Lady Luck rolls violently amidst the choppy waves and your stomach twists into knots at every drop. Poor Topaz is already throwing up over the side of the ship and Ratio is starting to look a little green.
“So this is it then,” he murmurs under his breath, so quietly you think only your ears heard it. Before you can respond, he gets ahold of himself and gives the order to tie down everything that isn’t secured and for all hands on deck. Veritas and Topaz stumble off first, making quick work of the ship, but you linger by his side a bit longer.
“This is no natural storm, is it?”
“... No,” he responds, his voice clipped as he fights to keep the Lady Luck buoyant. “It isn’t.”
You’re emerging from your quarters when you think you hear a melodic voice drifting over the choppy waves, singing an unknown yet enchanting tune. For all your time spent in taverns and performing in them, you’ve never heard anyone with a voice even close to the one you’re hearing right now. The voice is clear and high-pitched and whoever’s singing hits every note perfectly. You feel yourself go limp and you begin seeking out the voice, even getting up on shaky legs before Veritas yanks you back down. With the last of his strength, he shoves wax into your ears before he too falls victim to the song. Topaz, with her ears safely covered, takes the initiative and with your help, manages to subdue him enough for you to plug his ears. Not an easy task for a man of his size and build actively struggling against your hold.
You’re practically deaf now. All you can hear is the loudest of the waves crashing against the ship’s hull and the thunder booming directly overhead. Topaz roughly shakes you and you manage to make out what she’s saying even with the heavy rain obscuring your vision.
“What about our captain?!”
Ice courses through your veins. She’s right. You were so caught up in saving yourselves that you’ve left your captain completely defenseless. Oh no.
But when you look around, you see your captain still at the helm, seemingly immune to the siren’s song drifting through the air. He fights the ocean at every turn and spins the wheel to and fro as heavy waves tip her from side to side. He eventually manages to stabilize the ship for long enough to where you can get back up on your feet after being thrown around like a rag doll. Long enough for you to lock the rest of the ship up.
You cling to anything you can get your hands on as you slowly make your back to the deck, but it’s surprisingly difficult. Your whole body hurts from being thrown around, your arms are sore from holding onto anything for dear life, and your balance is off. Your feet keep slipping and sliding and when you make your way to the deck, you see why: the Lady Luck’s prow is pointed directly up and you already know what’s going to happen next.
“Hold fast!” shouts Aventurine. In the instant before the ice-cold waters sweep over you, Ratio grabs you and Topaz around the waist and hunkers down in the corner of the deck, gripping the railing with all his strength while you latch your arms around his waist. You manage to squeeze your eyes shut and inhale before the force of the rushing waters hits you. Even with your iron-clad grip around him, the bone-chilling cold temperature of the ocean plunges you head-first into shock and your grip loosens up ever so slightly- just enough for you to be swept away. Your limp body is harshly thrown against a corner- something cracks upon impact and needle-sharp pain shoots up your spine- before another wave lifts you up and over the railing, plunging you into the endless, swirling depths.
“Cap’n! (Name)’s gone overboard!”
The water sloshing around on the deck comes up to his knees now. Aventurine looks down at his legs, then toward the churning seas, then back at his legs. Without any hesitation, he tosses his coat aside and jumps overboard to the astonishment of Topaz and Ratio.
“Captain!”
“You damned gambler! Have you gone insane?!”
Everything sounds muffled and distant as you sink further down and down. Your lungs are burning and your vision is beginning to darken as you gaze up at the hull of the Lady Luck that’s growing smaller.
Is this… it? And just when I think I’ve finally found the life I’ve been searching for…
You think you see something dart by- a fish? No, it’s too big for one. The tail is a shiny lilac but the top half is that of a woman. Silvery hair flows out behind her as she stares at you curiously and you realize it’s a mermaid as she swims away. You gasp out of shock, only to regret it instantly when you begin gasping frantically for air after you accidentally inhale some water. You desperately claw and fight your way to the surface but it’s no use; your legs feel like lead and soon your arms follow.
Right as your consciousness fades and the world goes black, you see a familiar face swimming toward you. Blond hair, multicolored eyes…
Captain? What’re you doing here?
There’s an uncharacteristic regretful look on his face as he gets closer. He says something- you can’t hear it- before he pulls you in gently and kisses you so softly you barely feel the brush of his lips against yours.
A shimmering teal tail, the same kind as the mermaid you saw earlier, is the last thing you see.
You feel something warm and heavy nestled against your side. Two of them, actually.
It feels like you’ve been asleep for a very, very long time. It’s a struggle to open your eyes as if they’ve been sealed shut and your body feels stiff. It’s all too easy to fall back asleep, but…
Upon opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the sight of Numby and Doubloon curled up against you. The former squeals and the latter meows anxiously now that you’re awake. You gently pet their heads.
“... Good morning to you two as well.”
Your voice comes out so hoarse and scratchy you almost get secondhand embarrassment from hearing it. Upon closer examination, you realize you’re in Aventurine’s quarters but there’s no sight of him. You do, however, see Topaz passing by in the door left ajar. She gasps loudly at seeing you moving around and almost drops whatever she’s holding to rush inside.
“You’re awake! Good, we were all so worried, especially Aventurine.”
“Ugh… quiet down a bit please. How long was I out for?”
“Almost a day and a half.”
You slowly shift into an upright sitting position, wincing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your chest. Topaz is immediately at your side, helping you up and covering you with furs and blankets when your teeth start chattering uncontrollably. Looks like the chill of the waters penetrated deep into your bones.
“Easy now. You got some nasty injuries when you went overboard, such as a few fractured ribs. Ratio had to be the one to patch you up after Cap’n brought you aboard and-” her words are punctuated with a light-hearted chuckle “-I’ve never seen him so anxious for a person to wake up. Don’t tell him I said that though.”
She leaves and you lift up the handheld mirror on the nightstand, getting the first good look of yourself since almost drowning. You look relatively the same, save for the bruises all over your exposed skin and the sling your left arm is in.
“You’re very lucky that you only got off with some fractured ribs, a broken arm, and a bunch of bruises. You very well could’ve died out there,” says Topaz as she walks back into the room with a warm drink in hand. “Ratio’s words, not mine. Although, he’s right.”
You accept the drink and after realizing what it is, gulp it down eagerly. Hot rum with honey, lemon, and cinnamon. A favorite of yours and a classic remedy whenever someone on the ship falls ill. Topaz makes it the best though.
You stare down at the now-empty cup in your hands, its residual heat warming up your cold hands. It takes a while for your memory to be jogged, but you suddenly remember Aventurine going overboard too.
“Wait, Aventurine, where is-”
“In the bathroom waiting for you. He’s been quite moody ever since returning.”
You think back to when he saved you at death’s doorstep and you loudly gasp when you recall the last thing you saw. Your thoughts must’ve been written all over your face because Topaz merely sighs and takes the empty cup from your hands.
“... I’ll let him explain everything.”
She helps you to your feet and leaves you be. You hesitantly knock on the door and are instantaneously greeted with a “come in” from the other side.
You see why Aventurine has been confined to the bathroom. The first thing you see is a long teal-colored tail shimmering and swaying lazily side to side in the dim candlelight; far too big for the tiny confines of the bathtub your captain is currently soaking in. The fins are long and slightly translucent at the ends as they smack against the floor upon seeing you enter. You stay frozen in place, eyes trailing up from his fins toward his face. The scales that you swear you’d see peeking out underneath his collar sometimes are on full display now. Patches of them are littered across his chest, arms and face. His hands are webbed now and so are his ears tinged green at the tips and peeking out beneath the mess of blond hair. The sharp fins along his forearms slice cleanly through the water as he shifts around and the gills on his neck flare upon seeing you.
He stays frozen in place, watching. And waiting for your reaction. For what feels like eternity, none of you speak or even dare to breathe until you finally make the first move. You shakily laugh and exhale- he jolts at the sound- and you sink to your knees besides him, albeit with some difficulty. When you finally do speak, it’s with a gentle voice as you’re eyeing his tail resting in your lap.
“So that explains it all. And here I was wondering if I was hallucinating seeing you with scales.”
Aventurine lets out a laugh of sheer relief. His shoulders droop and he slouches against the edge of the bathtub, all tension seemingly dissipating from his body. He seems to take notice of your injuries after he’s relaxed. A webbed finger reaches out to lightly trace your arm in a sling and he frowns at the sight.
“... I’m sorry.”
You blink, astonished.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and that’s all he has to say.
“It’s just some broken bones,” you lightly respond. “Inconvenient, sure, but nothing I can’t recover from. Besides, you saved me from certain death.”
“It’s not just about that. I narrowly avoided the nightmare I saw in my dreams, but at what cost?”
He goes quiet and refuses to elaborate. You decide it’s for the better to change the topic.
“So… care to tell me about your tail?”
Aventurine sighs. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this a secret from you forever, but he’s still a bit hesitant to tell you.
“Exposure to waist-deep water gives me legs and vice versa thanks to a deal I made with Jade a long time ago. In exchange for getting to experience life as a human, I would have to bring promising people to her door and continuously supply her with valuables.”
“Jade is a… sea witch?”
Aventurine snorts and scoffs.
“What, did she not seem enough of a conniving witch the first time you met her?”
“Fair enough,” you concede. “But what made you want to experience life on land?”
“It wasn’t a choice.”
“Oh.”
Your eyes land on the tattoo on the side of his neck that’s on full display now. You dare not say what it spells out loud. He scratches at the spot, conveniently covering it with his hand, and silence fills the space for a bit.
“What happened after the storm passed?”
You break the silence first. He seems relieved at the distraction and begins playing with the pearl bracelet fastened around your wrist.
“The storm passed almost as soon as I rescued you. I brought you back to the surface, where-”
“Wait, does that mean Veritas and Topaz know you’re-”
He sighs and nods. You falter a bit.
“... How did they react?”
Aventurine thinks back for a bit.
“I think they were just surprised. I don’t think they’ve fully processed it either.”
He laughs and shrugs.
“I can’t blame them. Their captain and a feared creature among sailors are one and the same.”
He sighs and looks at the closed bathroom door.
“They’ve been giving me a wide berth since then…”
“I’m sure they’ll come around. They just need some more time,” you reassure. “But what happened after that?” you ask, pressing for more information. His tail curls around your waist and swiftly pulls you closer to the bathtub- he’s surprisingly strong in this form, you quickly realize as you squirm around only for him to not budge one bit. You rest your tired head against your arms and gaze at him with half-lidded eyes that he meets unflinchingly with a gaze of his own and a lazy smile.
“Once you’re feeling better, go thank Ratio for his prompt medical care. As soon as I resurfaced, he practically yanked you out of my arms and started treating you. You inhaled quite a bit of water and Ratio had to get you to cough it all out. A bit gross, seeing it unfold in front of my eyes.”
“... You saw it all?” you ask, horrified and disgusted.
His lazy smile turns impish and he flicks some water toward you.
“Ah, you should’ve seen yourself,” he muses out loud. “Flopping around on the deck like a fish out of water and soaked to the point where you looked like Doubloon during bath time. It made for quite the sight- wait, don’t leave!”
He reaches out to you desperately and his tail tightens even more around your waist. You shoot him a withering glare before settling back down again.
“The storm calmed down soon after I saved you,” he continues. “The Lady Luck sustained some damage to the sails and she sprung a few leaks in the hull, but nothing that Ratio and Topaz weren’t able to repair. Later, you woke up and here we are.”
“Really? That’s it?”
“Really, that’s it,” he repeats.
“What a coincidence it stops after narrowly escaping death,” you grumble. He rolls his eyes.
“No kidding,” he scoffs.
Aventurine plucks a glimmering scale off and holds it out like a peace offering to you. It shifts between colors in the candlelight, going from pink to green to gold with a holographic sheen covering it. He notices the confused expression you wear and lightly laughs.
“What? Didn’t you know, mermaid scales are exceedingly valuable?”
You hold it closer, entranced by its dancing colors.
“I thought most of the ones on the market are frauds though?”
“That they are. But a real, genuine scale… those are only offered to the richest of the rich at a closed auction.”
“Yet here I am with one in my hand, free of charge.”
Aventurine laughs and plucks off another one for you. A look of hesitation crosses your face.
“... Doesn’t that hurt?”
“A little,” he admits. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, they grow back.”
His words do nothing to budge the frown on your face and Aventurine makes a mental note to claim a scale fell off from natural causes the next time he gifts you one.
“How long do they take to grow back then?”
“... A long time,” he confesses after a beat of silence.
“... I see why they’re so expensive now.”
You glance down at the two shining scales in your palm. Perhaps you’ll make jewelry out of them- an earring to match with your captain doesn’t sound half-bad…
But your curiosity is piqued now. Mermaids are the stuff of legends and you have one sitting in front of you. A few questions couldn’t hurt, right?
“What else can you do?”
His tail flicks back and forth excitedly. Anything to impress you!
“We can cry pearls and other valuable jewels. Want to see?”
“Wait, don’t make yourself cry-”
Too late. Fat tears slide down his cheeks, condensing into something round and shiny before landing with a soft clink in his hands. Perfect pearls and tumbled sea glass pile up in his palms and you spot some shiny green stones- aventurine stones. He holds them out to you with an expectant look in his eyes. Your captain looks less of a fearsome mythical creature and more like an… eager puppy. You can’t possibly say no to such a face so with a resigned sigh, you accept his offering.
“... Thank you, but please don’t make this a common occurrence in the future. I don’t want to see you cry.”
He pouts, fins drooping. Boo. There goes a courting attempt out the window.
Like a puppy, you think as you watch him sulk in the bathtub. You poke at one of Ratio’s rubber ducks Aventurine had stolen from him bobbing along the water’s surface.
“You aren’t horrified?” he asks once he grows bored of staring at the duck.
“Why would I be?”
“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I mean.”
His tail swishes side to side agitatedly and his ears simultaneously flatten against his head and fold downwards.
“Do you realize what I could do to you right now?” he asks in a low tone. “I could pull you under my song, strip you of your defenses, outwit you at every turn despite how clever you are…”
You’re leaning in unknowingly. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth and he leans in closer, twirling a strand of your hair around a clawed finger.
“I’ll infiltrate your mind and charm you into doing things you’d never think of doing,” he continues, voice even lower and softer now. “I could tell you to walk the plank and you would do it, no questions asked. I could drag you beneath the depths with me and no one would even notice you’re gone. Ah, but you’re already under my spell, aren’t you?”
“... What?”
“Exactly. I could even do… this!”
With a sudden yank, he pulls you into the tub with him. Water splashes over the edge onto the floor and you scream. Even so, he holds tight and winds his tail tightly around you, nuzzling his cheek against yours and nipping your cheeks. They’re love bites more than anything else, but you shudder at the thought of how different the situation could be had he not been so head over heels for you.
You also shudder as the cold water soaks through your clothes and sends a chill up your spine.
“Let me go. The water’s cold.”
Aventurine merely holds onto you even tighter. Tucked into the crook of his neck like this, you can see his gills rapidly opening and closing out of contentment and the self-satisfied smile stretching wide across his face. He seems content to stay in this position for ages, leaning in to bury his nose into your hair and press kisses to your cheek repeatedly, but it’s only until you start shivering that he reluctantly lets go.
Before you step out the tub, he holds his left hand out. You hesitantly extend your right hand out until he gently bats it away and gestures for your left hand instead. It’s bundled in a sling but you manage to make it work somehow.
“There we go,” he says once your palm is pressed against his. “Now, close your eyes.”
You do as he says and thick, syrupy words flow like honey from his mouth. The words practically stick together as his voice rises and falls melodically in some unknown language. It sounds soothing, in the way a mother’s voice would lull a child to sleep.
“There,” he whispers after a peck to your forehead. “All done. You can open your eyes now.”
“What was that?”
“... A prayer,” he admits. “A prayer for your continued health and safety.”
There’s a funny feeling in your stomach and you fight back the stupid smile creeping onto your face.
“You shouldn’t have. But thank you.”
You curl your good arm around him and with a sharp heave, lift him up. His long tail snakes around your waist and you almost fall over from the weight.
“Stop that! You’re heavy!”
“How heartless of you.”
You dunk him back into the bathtub unceremoniously. His tail splits down the middle and scales begin falling off rapidly in patches. The fins shrivel and dissolve and pearly-smooth legs soon emerge. With a start, you try to look away but he merely scoffs and languidly stretches out in your arms.
“What? It’s nothing you haven’t already seen.”
Now fully dressed, Aventurine emerges onto the deck with you in hand. Topaz is playing fetch with Numby and Doubloon while Ratio is at the helm. The two pets, upon seeing you, dash over to you and run in circles around you with Numby oinking and Doubloon meowing excitedly. Topaz all but topples you over in an excited hug while your navigator scolds her, reminding the woman of your frail condition.
“How are you feeling?” asks Veritas as he comes to a stop before you. You hum and beam at him.
“Never felt better thanks to your immediate care.”
He brushes your compliments off with a scoff and a wave of his hand, all accompanied by his usual eye roll.
“Think nothing of it. It was merely my duty.”
Topaz leans against you from behind while Ratio coughs and steps back from you a bit. They eye your captain with the respect and admiration they always have, but now there’s a hint of skepticism underlying it all.
“Gambler, we deserve an explanation for what happened back there,” demands Veritas. Aventurine sighs and shakes his head.
“I know, but that’ll happen in due time. For now, let’s just… keep moving forward.”
He takes the helm. Ratio hoists the sails and Topaz climbs up to the crow’s nest to keep lookout. Things are never going to be quite the same as before now, but that’s alright in your eyes. Everyone boarded the Lady Luck for their own reasons and their captain secretly being a mermaid in disguise doesn’t change any of that. You boarded the ship to carve out a life for yourself you would’ve never had back on land. Ratio boarded to spread knowledge. Topaz boarded to bring change into the world. Your captain has already helped those dreams come true. Nothing the legends say will do anything to sway your opinion on him.
There will come a day when the Lady Luck will complete her last voyage, Aventurine will have to return to the seas, and the crew will be disbanded, but that day isn’t today. It won’t be when he comes clean to the crew either. Rather, it’ll be in the far future when no amount of repairs can keep the Lady Luck from falling apart and you’re no longer able to handle the challenges of life at sea. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get there.
The seas are calm. It’s clear out with a strong breeze that cools you off amidst the sun’s sweltering rays. Ratio is repairing a tear in one of the sails that escaped his earlier attention while Topaz hums a tune she picked up from you atop the crow’s nest, scouting the surrounding waters. You meet Aventurine’s gaze out the corner of your eye. Wordlessly, he pulls you into his side with one arm as you look out upon the ocean.
“Have you accomplished your goal of conquering the seven seas?” you tease. He scoffs and smirks.
“Oh, I did that a long time ago already. But there’s one last desire I have yet to fulfill.”
“And what might that be?”
He gazes down at you silently, yet the silence between you speaks volumes. A raised eyebrow and a head tilt. A cheeky wink and a kiss to your forehead. An exasperated sigh from your two crewmates as you pull away from returning the kiss.
There’s always one question you ask when heading to a new destination, and this time is no different. Gazing into his multicolored eye, you can’t imagine yourself anywhere else other than here, now and forever.
“So where to next, Captain?”
enjoyed my work? the taglist is open!
@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai
SYNOPSIS: what happens when a black hole and a white hole collide?
CHARACTERS: sonic
TAGS: cosmic horror, major character death (sorta), very astronomy and astrophysics heavy fic (there will be an explanation post later), mentions of obsessive behavior, mild yandere if u squint (will still be tagged as such), gn reader, 4.2k+ wc
TAGLIST: @affinitytales, special thanks to @angelitenails and @waayix for being my beta readers! ily 🫶
NOTES: nerded out so hard while writing this that google started showing me physics and astronomy articles in my recommended </3
dividers are from @rookthornesartistry
You hear him before you see him. Millions of light years away on the other far end of the universe, a sound pulled out from deep within the fabric of space reaches your ears. A low-frequency groaning sound, like that belonging to a thousand souls in agony, ripples across space and makes you involuntarily shudder.
Then you feel him. The fabric of spacetime ripples beneath your fingertips like stormy ocean waves, increasing in frequency and intensity the closer he approaches. He’s quite fast too, you realize as the fabric trembles violently under your touch. If you run now, maybe you can slip under his radar?
Finally, and unfortunately, you see him. Only faintly at first in the form of a relativistic jet so far away, it barely shows up as a pinprick of light to your eyes. Yet you notice all the same, especially since the stars in that part of space have been going dark as of late. Then the rotating disk of matter slowly spiraling toward him, his gravitational field so intense it warps the path of light on the far side of the disk. All too soon though, he appears before you, bending the space around him and pulling in everything in his path without a care.
The low groaning sound that was the first warning of his imminent arrival is unbearably loud now as pressure waves from hot gas being sucked in hit you with the force of a thousand supernovas. Specks of electromagnetic radiation being produced from the disk of superheated gas and dust spinning around him sting your face as they’re luckily flung out of his reach at immense speeds. The fabric of spacetime collapses beneath his feet and even though you’re a safe distance away from his gravitational pull, you feel a sudden rush of fear- like you’re standing on the precipice of a great fall, one that you won’t return from.
He takes the form of an anthropomorphic hedgehog, quills upturned and glowing matter swirling around them. Even at this safe distance several million miles away, you can still feel his gaze searching for something in the cosmos, before honing in on you, his target. His eyes widen and his lips part in a silent gasp. He holds that amazed expression for an unbearably long period of time, drinking in your visage as if you are an oasis and he, a parched man on the verge of death by dehydration, before it morphs into something sickeningly sweet.
“Hi!” he says cheerfully, and the mere sound of his voice sends a cold realization racing up your spine. “I’ve been looking for you!”
In the vacuum of space where there shouldn’t be any air or sound, you feel the rush of the wind in your ears like you’re falling and time comes to a stop.
Somehow, just now, you’ve fallen past the event horizon.
They say nothing escapes a black hole. At least, nothing they know of escapes a black hole. You might be the only exception, but that doesn’t deter him from showing his true nature. He doesn’t leave you alone after that, always trailing behind like a persistent shadow. He’s always a safe distance away, although his attempts at toeing that line grow bolder with time, much to your trepidation. You should be able to reject his all-encompassing gravitational pull by virtue of your nature, but you’d rather not test it anytime soon…
He never shuts up too. As you drift through the endless expanse of space, it’s always a guarantee that he’s telling stories of what he’s seen ripping apart galaxies and matter, even if you give zero indication of interest.
“There exists a little blue dot I’m quite fond of,” he begins one day. He’s lingering much closer than usual today. It’s not enough to pose a real threat, but enough for you to feel a slight tug at the back of your head, like a warning of sorts.
His hand gestures in the general direction of the planet and you hardly spare a glance, too concerned with distancing yourself from him.
“The inhabitants are a curious bunch, always wanting to know more about what lies beyond their little bubble. I got a little too careless one day and ventured close enough to their planet for them to notice me. They’ve been hooked ever since.”
You wonder what could possibly compel someone to take interest in a being like him. Destructive, greedy, and the ultimate threat to everything. Any species with a shred of self-preservation instincts would know to stay far away from him.
“Are they foolish?”
He grins.
“Far from it, actually. They’re some of the smartest I’ve seen in recent times. They even gave me a name!”
“You have a… name?” you ask incredulously, wondering how stupid they are to give him a name to remember him by.
“Sure do. It’s Sonic!”
You look out at an empty pocket of space as your mind buffers for a second, the name bouncing around in your mind.
“... Sonic,” you repeat flatly. Your dry disbelief must’ve bled into your tone because the cosmic entity disguised as a hedgehog shrugs.
“It’s supposed to be an acronym for something, but I couldn’t care less about that. All I care about is how pretty it sounds on your lips.”
You don’t bother hiding your disgust over his poor attempts at flirting. Did he pick up such crude language from them too?
“A nonsensical name for an equally nonsensical being,” you eventually scoff after getting over your disbelief. He hums and closes his eyes, smiling in delight and tail wagging gently.
“Mhm, that’s it, keep saying my name. I could never get tired of hearing it from you.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
His cheerful demeanor remains unshaken.
“Always have been. Never been the kind of guy to stray too far from my beliefs, y’know?”
“Do your beliefs include uncontrolled greed and destruction in your wake?” you retort, unable to resist the temptation of a good taunt. He has the nerve to look offended, scowling and crossing his arms.
“Rude. That was uncalled for,” he grumbles.
“It’s the truth,” you argue.
“No it’s not,” he counters. “It’s protection. I love the universe for everything that it is.”
“Is that why you’re so hell-bent on swallowing it whole?”
His face scrunches up into a scowl you would’ve found adorable under any other circumstance.
“What better way to preserve it?”
“Some form of preservation that is. Even you too will one day evaporate.”
“But at least they’ll live on inside me, no? Much longer than they would’ve been able to by themselves, that’s for sure.”
“Do they really still exist if they’ve been compressed and compacted into a dot alongside everything else your voracity has gotten the better of?”
He shrugs, as if to say “it’s the thought that counts!”
“It’s either that or they meet a slow, painful demise when the universe does end.”
“That’s the weakest form of justification I’ve ever heard, and I know you’re secretly aware of that fact too.”
He exhales sharply through his nose and taps his foot impatiently.
“Speak for yourself. I’m just doing what I think is right and that’s all that matters to me.”
“Your idea of what’s ‘right’ is going to cause the premature end of the universe as we all know it,” you snap, jabbing your finger at him for added emphasis.
“You’re telling me that’s somehow worse than how the universe will actually end?” he asks, looking indignant.
You take a step back.
“... You do know how it’ll end, right?”
He shrugs and takes a step closer, his irritated expression vanishing and being replaced by a lazy grin instead.
“‘Course I do! Can’t say the same for the ones that gave me a name, though. They’ve got more theories for how the universe will end than there are stars in their galaxy.”
“The most widely accepted one though?”
He laughs under his breath, like he finds their theories to be amusing.
“The heat death of the universe is the most common one. Instead of a bang, we’ll all go out with a pathetic, cold whimper.”
“And what’s actually going to happen?”
He flashes a conspiratorial grin at you, like this is a secret only privy to you two. And in a sense, it is. This is forbidden knowledge.
“Everything will-”
Despite everything he tells you, you still have almost no knowledge of who he is or where he’s from. And maybe that’s intentional. Does he even know himself? You doubt it. He seems like the guy who couldn’t care less about his origins.
“I really don’t understand you,” you sigh one day. He’s in the middle of stuffing his face with superheated gas and matter from the nearest galaxy he’s devouring as he looks over at you, cheeks puffed out. You’ve come to realize he’s quite the messy eater, as he swallows and wipes the corner of his mouth off with his finger. Fitting for his insatiable hunger.
“Neither do the inhabitants of the little blue dot. But that doesn’t stop them from being obsessed with my existence, does it?”
“Obsessed… with you?”
He nods.
“Some devote their entire lives to studying me. Not like they’ll learn much with their horrendously short lifespans, but I’m flattered. Really. Guess it’s true we all want what we can’t have.”
“Well, what have they learned about you so far?”
He grins smugly.
“Practically nothing.”
There’s a hint of pride in his voice. You roll your eyes. How egotistical of him.
“Good for them. They know some things are better off staying a mystery. Doubt anybody wants you either.”
“Ouch, low blow. Way to destroy a guy’s ego, babe.”
“It’s not a low blow if the bar is nonexistent.”
“Hey, if we’re talking mysteries then you’re the bigger culprit here,” he says. “You’re hypothetical, you know? No one knows if you really exist or not. And yet, here I am with you before me.”
“... You know I exist though,” you state almost dumbly, unsure of what else to say.
He rolls his eyes.
“Well, obviously I do. But that’s because I’m me. As for everyone else? You only exist because the math says so, and only on paper at that.”
“Well, what do they call me back on your favorite planet?”
“They call you a ‘white hole’,” he whispers conspiratorially. “A hypothetical region of spacetime and singularity where nothing can enter.”
He plucks a planet from its orbit and chews on it like a piece of bubblegum as he thinks.
“They say you’re the complete opposite of me. Whereas I consume everything, you reject everything. Pretty poetic, don’t you think?”
You nudge a star system with your finger. The planetary bodies scatter outwards from each other, repelled by your touch.
“Suit yourself. I could care less.”
He grumbles to himself and swallows the planet he was chewing, before resuming his snacking- this time an entire constellation.
“You know, you’ve been asking me about my origins an awful lot as of late,” he mumbles around a mouthful of matter. “‘Where did I come from?’ I’ve been here since the beginning. I created everything. But you? Where have you been all this time?”
With shocking speed, he closes much of the distance keeping you safe from him. He’s not close enough to drag you under just yet, but close enough to where you feel yourself precariously teetering on the edge of his event horizon more than ever before. Panic wells up within you and gravity tugs you toward him with increasing persistence, yet you remain frozen, rooted in place by his unnerving smile and unblinking gaze.
“Well? Where have you been this entire time? Why have you been hiding from me?”
Why have you been hiding from me? The question echoes in your mind and a deep-seated, instinctual wave of quiet horror washes over you. Does this mean he’s been looking for you all along? But why? And for how long? You have no answer to these questions, because there is no answer. Rules and logic don’t apply to a being like him.
“... Maybe I wasn’t meant to be discovered so early on,” you whisper after a long moment of silence, gaze trained on a faraway galaxy. “The universe has its rules. Something tells me you broke one of them by meeting me.”
Finally, you look at him.
“If you’re the origin, then perhaps I am the end.”
He pauses and raises an eyebrow. After a few seconds, he actually backs away a bit.
“... Rules?” he scoffs after what you think is a nervous silence. “No rule in the universe can stop a guy like me!”
“You say that, yet you’re woefully ill-prepared for the consequences.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Consequences? Please. Nothing in this universe can catch up with me.”
“Not even your past self?”
He grins and winks at you. It’s almost amusing, the way he can go from obsessive to his usual self in less time than it would take for you to disrupt the delicate orbits of a star system.
“Not even my past self! I get faster with every passing day.”
At your expression, which, if you had to guess, is a cross between disgust and disbelief, he throws his head back and laughs.
“But man,” he says once his laughter subsides. “I’m glad I met you this early on. Really can’t imagine where I'd be without you now.”
“You’re just saying that because you’d have no one else to bother otherwise.”
“Touche,” he admits. “But it’s not just that. If there really are consequences to my actions, then I wouldn’t mind dying by your hand, y’know?”
“I can make that a reality. All you have to do is say the word.”
You beckon him over with a wave of your hand. You don’t miss how his tail starts wagging excitedly.
“Mmm, tempting. But I think I’ll pass. I’d rather it be the other way around. Safe and protected within me, like everything else I love.”
This time, he moves to stand next to you. Spacetime screams in protest as two immeasurable and opposing forces approach each other, yet he completely ignores the irreparable damage he’s doing. He crouches down beside you and raises his hand. Unable to resist the overwhelming gravity, the star system you were toying with earlier is violently stretched and torn apart until even the bonds between atoms disintegrate. What was once multicolored plasma is now nothing more than protons, neutrons, and electrons struggling to escape the overwhelming pull. A blaze of interstellar gas is helplessly sucked around his fist and without any hesitation, he swallows it all in one go.
“See? Part of me forever now. Hopefully, this’ll be you one day.”
You can only watch on in mute horror. The plume of gas he just ate was a similar shade of white as the matter and energy being expelled from you. For a second, you saw yourself reflected within the vapor, fighting yet doomed all the same.
His greed toward you truly knows no bounds. You get the strange feeling your fate has been sealed.
He always has a story for you, regardless of the situation. Sometimes, they have relation to whatever you’re doing at the moment (usually nothing at all). Most of the time, however, there’s no correlation and he’s telling you one because he’s bored or sleepy after running laps around the universe for the umpteenth time that day.
“The residents of the blue dot have so many stories to explain what they do not know. How did life begin? What exists in the great unknown beyond the skies? It’s almost cute, in a sense. But there exists a story for the former question among the many others that I enjoy hearing, and it goes like this.”
His other hand runs through his quills and the accretion disk around them trembles and shakes violently. Sparks of radiation and matter fly upward, desperate to escape, before the crushing gravity sucks them back in without hesitation.
“I never said I wanted to hear a story though,” you grumble, even though you know it won’t change a thing. And true to your predictions, he merely laughs.
“That’s cute. Long ago, one of the ancients sculpted humanity from clay and imparted unto them his wisdom, knowledge, and craft. Later on, he felt pity for their weakness and stole fire from the rest of the ancients, enabling them to build civilizations but at the cost of his eternal punishment.”
“Don’t you grow tired of telling them?”
“Never have and never will!”
“I don't understand why you’re doing this then.”
“I don’t need a reason to do things. That’s just who I am.”
Incorrigible in the worst way possible. That’s what he is.
“... The man in the story named Prometheus took what was forbidden and suffered eternally for it. Fire was unknown to humanity at the time and he both blessed and cursed them with its knowledge.”
You turn your gaze to him for the first time in that conversation. He meets your gaze and grins cheekily, overjoyed at having your undivided attention.
“Isn’t one of the morals of the story about the price of knowledge as well?”
He shrugs.
“More or less, yeah. All depends on your interpretation.”
“Then, if I am the hypothetical and thus, forbidden existence of a white hole and you are Prometheus… what is the price you must pay?”
That grin remains on his face, yet his eyes are suddenly devoid of any emotion.
He doesn’t give you a response.
You go silent. He whistles a tune as he picks up a galaxy and tosses it between his hands like a ball, before tossing it into his mouth and swallowing it in one go. From the back of your mind, you recall another story he had told you. It was also how the world came to be. One line in particular had stuck out to you.
“Let there be light.”
You stare at the empty pocket of space that used to house the galaxy he just devoured. And so there was light- until he came and swallowed it all.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that question you asked me as of late.”
Your ear flicks in his direction as you traverse through space. It’s the only indication he gets that you’re listening, but like he always does, he takes this invitation and runs with it. Give a hedgehog an inch and he’ll take it a mile…
“What price must I pay for stumbling upon forbidden knowledge? I’ve been thinking about that long and hard and I have an answer now.”
“Is that why you’ve been quieter and much more tolerable lately?”
He leans in with a gloved hand cupped around an ear.
“Hmm, do my ears deceive me? What I’m hearing is how much you’ve missed the sound of my lovely voice.”
“You-!”
“-As I was saying, I finally have an answer now. Wanna hear it?”
He doesn’t even give you a chance to say no before continuing.
“It’s simple, really. There is no price I have to pay.”
… What?
He grins, as if sensing your inner thoughts.
“I already told you I’m fast enough to outrun everything, including myself. Whatever the consequences of my past actions have no hope of catching up to me. I answer to nobody as well; therefore, who besides me can dish out punishment?”
“The universe itself will make you pay.”
He rolls his eyes, looking exasperated.
“Doubtful, considering you and I mirror each other. Can it really be considered accessing forbidden knowledge when I can just repackage it as keeping the universe’s natural balance? You and I were made for each other in that- ouch!”
He’s right, you realize as you shake your hand off after slapping him. Is there really no way to save yourself from your fate anymore?
“Best to accept whatever happens here on out. Because no one’s coming to help you anymore.”
You knew this day would arrive sooner or later, but that doesn’t make it any easier. There’s nothing outwardly different about him, but you sense it in the air. His tail, stiff and wagging with excitement. His eyes, a little more eager than usual. The way he keeps glancing over at you, as if awaiting something. His foot, tapping with poorly-suppressed impatience a lot more than usual. And perhaps the biggest giveaway of them all is his tongue, constantly darting out to swipe at his lips like he’s hungry.
For a while, you act normal. Maybe if you pretend to not notice, you can delay the inevitable a little bit longer. But the feeling of his eyes trained on you, like he’s waiting for a moment of weakness, makes you shudder and you can only keep up the act for so long.
“What’s wrong with you today?” you demand. “You’ve always been an obsessive creep since the day we met, but you’re acting even stranger today.”
He merely smiles, a self-satisfied grin at that, like you’ve played right into his hands.
“Finally gave up, huh? I was wondering how long we’d be playing this game for.”
“Spit it out,” you hiss. “Don’t play games with me this time, hedgehog.”
Fatal mistake on your part.
“If you insist.”
His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist in an iron hold. The very fabric of space tears at the seam, creating a horrible, ripping sound stretching out into the cosmos. You try to jerk your wrist out of his grasp, a difficult task as incredible gravity pulls you further into him. Even with your rejective properties, he refuses to let go, instead clamping down even tighter which earns a pained hiss from you. A gaseous trail extending from you to his accretion disk forms as you are rapidly consumed by him, like you’re the first meal a famished man has laid eyes upon in ages. What’s been sucked in, now stretched out until only atoms remain, seemingly stops in time past a certain point, and you know by then it’s already too late to stop what’s already been set in motion.
“Like I said, best to give up,” he whispers, tugging you closer until you’re face to face with him. He’s a horrible sight to behold.
Wisps of white matter and energy gather in long, thin tendrils around his gloved fingers. The accretion disk around his upturned quills expands as more and more of you is lost to him.
“I’ve finally got you with me forever now. Isn’t that romantic?”
A single, fleeting thought crosses your mind.
I’m going to die.
“Sonic, wait-”
That horrible smile you’ve grown to hate crosses his face. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he gazes down at you tenderly, like how a lover would.
“There you go. You finally called me by my name.”
He blissfully sighs.
“It sounds even better on your lips than I imagined in my head. I could almost die happy right about now.”
I’m on the verge of death and this is what he cares about??
The universe is starting to go blurry before your eyes. All you can see is his brilliant, sickening glow. All you can feel is the crushing pressure of gravity condensed into a singularity ripping you apart and sucking you in. And in the midst of it all, clarity and acceptance wash over you like a tide. But not defeat- no, far from it.
“I’ll tear you apart from the inside out. I’ll be the end of you.”
Famous last words as you are consumed whole.
“I look forward to it, sweetheart.”
Powerful gravitational waves ring out as you are ultimately devoured, banging on space time like mallets to a drum. Space stretches and squeezes and the fabric warps as an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Your eyes close and the cosmic symphony quiets as you finally become one, the silence deafening in its wake.
Why am I the one being punished when he so brazenly takes what is not his?
His prediction came true. Eternal punishment was never in the works for Prometheus.
Now all alone in this stretch of the universe, Sonic sighs to himself. You weren’t talkative company most of the time, but he misses the little sounds you’d make and your presence.
He looks around. All alone with nothing in sight- literally. He’s devoured everything nearby already. Just an endless stretch of spacetime, the fabric so dark it almost makes his head hurt just from staring at it too long.
Perfect opportunity.
Sonic reaches a hand up into his quills, patting around as if seemingly looking for something. His hand pauses, eyes lighting up, then grips onto something and yanks it out.
“There you are! Come on out now!”
Tendrils of glowing white matter coalesce around his hand, clumping together to form your visage. First, your face, set in its usual irritated expression. Then, your torso followed by your arms. The rest of your body remains a gaseous form occasionally taking a shape, constantly being dragged beneath the event horizon as you eternally fight against his gravitational embrace.
“What do you want?”
“I missed you! Can’t a guy say hi to his lover when he’s feeling sad and lonely?”
Perhaps he was not Prometheus this whole time. Perhaps it was you. In your pursuit to stay hidden behind the curtain of general relativity and mystique, you had caught his attention and been punished for your selfishness.
“If you’re the origin, then perhaps I am the end.” Even before you were aware of it, his appearance had already spelled your demise. It’s a cycle of mutual destruction and rebirth.
For better or for worse, not even you can escape his event horizon anymore.
enjoyed this? the taglist is open!
@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai
SYNOPSIS: even with the newfound ability of speech, he finds he's still unable to tell you how he really feels
CHARACTERS: metal sonic, tails, sonic, eggman, amy
TAGS: set after idw battle for angel island arc, jealous metal in denial, metal has a slight existential crisis, gn reader, mild profanity, fluff, 6.9k+ wc
TAGLIST: @waayix as requested <3, @affinitytales
special thanks to @nyehpperino and @angelitenails for beta reading this! ily <3
also confession time... affi I'm ur 💜 anon
NOTES: lots of computer terminology but I am not a programmer, its been over a month since I last wrote so this may be rusty pls bear with me </3, sonfic nation pls accept my humble first offering
dividers are from @cafekitsune
“Tails… What’s that you’re holding?”
Covered in machine oil and dust as per usual, the boy genius looks over and waves at you. When he notices you staring, he holds up the device in his free hand. It’s small, fitting snugly into the palm of his hand, and resembles an earpiece.
“Oh, this? It’s my newest invention!” he declares proudly. “It’s a real-time translator that can convert binary code into speech! Pretty cool, huh?”
Your gaze drifts to the suspiciously Sonic-shaped robot dragging on the ground behind him, beaten and battered with several dents in his frame. Most likely the work of the real Sonic. His red LED eyes are off and sparks fly off the exposed wiring in his limbs. If Tails notices this severe safety hazard he’s haphazardly handling, he doesn’t say anything. Or most likely, he doesn’t notice, too caught up in whatever genius idea his mind is brewing up.
“... Is that Metal?”
He flinches, like he forgot he was actually dragging the damn thing around.
“Er… no?”
“Tails.”
He reluctantly sighs at your tone and his whole body deflates.
“Fine, fine,” he grumbles as he turns toward his workshop. “But I swear, this is in the name of… science. Yeah, science!”
The skeptical look you send his way makes him look away again and scratch the back of his neck shamefully.
“How do I explain this…? You know how Amy was upgrading her hammer the other day?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, Metal spotted Sonic earlier today and you know how the story goes. They got into a fight and Amy decided it would be a perfect time to test her hammer out.”
He mimics her actions as he swings an invisible hammer around. In doing so, Metal slips from his grasp and falls to the ground with a loud thud. He rolls to a stop and you can see, on the back of his head, a giant hammer-shaped dent that aligns with the size and shape of Amy’s.
“... Yeah. The story writes itself from there on,” sighs Tails as he follows your gaze. You squat down next to the unconscious robot and place a hand on top of his head. Still hot to the touch and you retract your hand quickly, hissing at the slight burn. His internal systems must’ve been working overtime and overheated as a result. You’d wager his circuitry is probably fried beyond repair now.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re dragging what’s essentially glorified scrap metal back to your place though,” you say as you sling one of Metal’s arms (that’s barely held together by a cable) over your shoulder as Tails takes the other. In response, he pulls out the ear piece you noticed earlier and beams brightly.
“I invented this the other day but haven’t been able to test it yet. But look! Here we are with the perfect candidate!”
“Tails, I do hope you realize what you’re getting yourself into. This is like stepping right into the lion’s den- no, more like inviting the lion straight into our home! And if something goes wrong, we’re all dead meat!”
“Relax! Even if he does go berserk, I’m sure Sonic would love to take another swing at him.”
The garage door to Tails’ workshop opens automatically as you approach. A loud grunt escapes you as Metal slides off you and onto a table. The overhead light flickers on and fills the space with bright, fluorescent light as Tails restrains the robot with some heavy duty chains. Not like it’ll do much if he does wake up…
“Besides, we don’t even know if he has a language module or not. If he doesn’t, then wouldn’t that mean all your efforts get wasted?”
“No such thing as wasted effort in my eyes!” he replies as he grabs his welding and power tools, aviation goggles discarded on the floor in favor of a welding helmet. “And we’ve heard him speak before.”
“Tails, that was when he was in his Neo Metal form. That was caused by his AI chip becoming self-aware.”
“But the possibility exists,” he argues. “It’s there, just buried beneath Dr. Eggman’s programming. And that’s why I have you with me!”
“M-me?” you splutter out. “Wait, I never said I was-”
“- The resident programmer amongst us!” he interrupts. “I’m just the engineer, remember? If anyone stands a chance of overwriting his code, it’s you. Besides, aren’t you at least a tiny bit interested in being the first to sabotage Dr. Eggman’s failsafe encryption system?”
Your eye twitches. You’d be lying if he said he didn’t speak the truth…
Tails flips the visor on his helmet down and motions you to back up. Sparks fly and the room is filled with the ear-rattling sound of the grinding wheel undoing the weld that houses his inner workings. When Tails flips the visor up and motions you forward, your eyes widen and practically sparkle at the motherboard before you. Located in his head that Tails has sawed the top off just now is a behemoth of densely-packed wiring and components. You spot several fans, the two CPU sockets with chips that bear Dr. Eggman’s face on them, and several memory slots. Much of the wiring is fried from overheating, however, and the distinct smell of something burning wafts from the printed circuit board. You cover your nose with your hand and grimace at the smell, yet you take a seat beside the robot and get to work anyway.
The first order of business is to replace all the parts beyond any hope of repair. Tails directs you to where he keeps his collection of computer parts and soon, you return with an armful of components you dug out of a bin. With his help, the wiring is replaced and reworked. His damaged limbs are repaired and reattached to his body. Thankfully, none of his processors or memory cards were damaged, as you’re able to hook him up to a computer and copy all his software and saved information. The computer screen lights up and a download progress bar appears. It soon completes and you see that all of Metal’s saved data has been successfully transferred onto the computer.
While Tails is busy tinkering with the engineering marvel splayed out on the table, you’re busy attempting to get past Dr. Eggman’s notoriously difficult code encryption. As much as you hate the man, you have to begrudgingly admit he does deserve the title of “genius”. No matter what you do, you just can’t get past the security system- there are no openings and no backdoor either. Maybe you’ll just have to brute force it?
… You slam your fist against the table after what feels like the hundredth failed attempt. The high-pitched whirring sound of Tails’ power drill that’s faded into background noise abruptly stops as he stares at you concernedly. You brush off his concern and in a last-ditch attempt, you simply force your way past the protections in place without any regard for what could happen. You’re prepared for failure yet again, but to your surprise, you’re greeted with a welcome screen. Looks like you’re in now. Somehow.
There’s no doubt that Dr. Eggman hasn’t realized his most prized creation has been gone for a suspiciously long time now. If he hasn’t, then the defenses set up around Metal’s code that surely triggered when you brute forced your way into the system just now will alert him.
Your eyes scan for any software that could indicate the presence of a language model. But to your surprise, there’s none. If there’s no language model, how can he understand Dr. Eggman’s orders and react in real-time to Sonic’s taunts in the middle of heated fights?
You bite your lip as you scroll through the lines of code making up his software. If it had existed, it was most likely stripped after the events of Angel Island for being considered too “rebellious”. Does this mean there’s a way for you to re-implement it then?
Your fingers fly across the keys rapidly. Whether Dr. Eggman built Metal’s language model framework up from the ground or not is up for debate, but you aren’t capable of such feats yet. Developing one from scratch would also take too much time and you aren’t sure when the killer robot next to you will awaken either. Instead, you settle for downloading an established model onto a flash drive and extensively tweaking its source code to be more suitable for Metal. That alone takes you long enough as Tails shoots you a nervous glance. He readies his welding tools and readjusts his helmet.
“(Name), I don’t know how much longer Metal is going to stay unconscious… His AI chip has most likely been busy with rebooting him back up. Plus who knows what other defenses he has set up in place…”
Dammit. With little time left, you encrypt the software as best as you can to avoid Dr. Eggman undoing all your hard work before sticking it into the slot on Metal’s back. The indicator light turning green at the base tells you it’s been successfully compiled and installed. It’s a half-baked product at best and it’ll be nowhere near the level of refinement his original programming was at, but it’s good enough.
“Ready,” you say to Tails. “Power him back on.”
Tails flashes a thumbs-up. A quick weld job later and he flicks a switch on. The robot’s entire body jerks and shudders from the sudden output of watts now flowing through his circuitry. His red pupils flicker back on and his head snaps in your direction, glaring at you. With a whirr of well-oiled gears, he tugs at the restraints holding him until they snap. He leaps off the table and swipes at you, steel fingers slicing cleanly through the air. You dodge just in time and Tails swoops in from above, whacking him over the head with a stray steel pipe. It disorients Metal just enough for you to restrain him again- not that it does much. He smacks your hand away with his other one, but you hold your glare and to your surprise, he stops in his tracks.
“Say something. Anything,” you demand.
Tails gets the hint and tosses you the earpiece. You catch the device midair and put it in with a mechanical beep as it powers on. Metal emits a series of clicks and whirrs that you pray is your modified language model formulating a response.
“Why should I?” comes the translation a few seconds later in a mechanical voice. You gasp.
“It works!”
“Wait, it does?” asks Tails as he flies over to your side. You rapidly nod with the biggest grin on your face as he grips your hands tightly in his.
“Because thanks to me, you can speak now. You also got a free repair job from our resident boy genius,” you say, motioning to Tails.
Another robotic whirr. This one sounds confused.
“You can understand me?”
“Yes!”
Metal turns around and fully faces you now. He taps a finger against his chin and scrutinizes you. At least you think that’s what he’s doing.
“What did you do?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Answer me.”
Tails reaches for the earpiece but you swat him away. You’ll tell him the details later.
“Oh, nothing. Just a little tweak to your programming. I’m sure you miss being able to speak though, right?”
“My creator will be hearing about this-”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know,” you scoff with a wave of your hand. “And tell him to bring it on.”
“Duly noted.”
You peek an eye open at the robot who’s still glaring at you with murderous intent. A smug grin tugs at the corner of your lips as a thought pops into your head and you swear you see him flinch. Tails shudders out the corner of your eye.
“I think a thank you is in order?”
He’s gone before you even finish the question, speeding back to his creator’s lair. Hopefully your programming has a fighting chance against Dr. Eggman, if he can even discover it. You hid and encrypted the software pretty damn well with the time you were given, in your opinion.
“Ah… he’s hopeless,” you lament.
“What’d he say?” pesters Tails as he circles around you, twin tails swishing in excitement. “How was the translation quality? Was there anything-”
“Nothing special,” you sigh as you head back outside for a much-needed break. “Just Metal being a jackass as per usual. Didn’t even say thank you for the free repair job and the new upgrade of speech! Can you believe it? The nerve of him… Did Eggman forget to install manners or what?”
Tails snorts and bites back a laugh.
“That would explain a lot of things then…”
You remove the earpiece and look down at it, fiddling with the device.
“The translation isn’t up to real-time standards yet. It takes a few seconds, but it’s already an impressive start.”
“That won’t do,” argues Tails. “Its purpose is to be a real-time translator. Any delay is unacceptable.”
“Ever heard of appreciating every victory, no matter how big or small?”
He glares at you and motions for you to hand the translator back to him. You toss it and he deftly catches it midair. After mumbling some terms you don’t quite make out under his breath, he pockets it and faces you again.
“I’m heading back to the drawing board, but would you be interested in staying onboard for this project? I could really use your programming skills…”
It’s cute, the way he fidgets as if the possibility of you saying “no” was even a possibility to begin with.
“You kidding me? I finally have the chance to one-up Eggman and I’m not letting it slip by now!”
You pat Tails on the back, noting the relief that floods his eyes as he perks up. His twin tails swish excitedly behind him again and he all but drags you back to the workshop.
“What are we waiting for then? Let’s get going!”
It’s a game of tug-of-war from there on out between you and Eggman over who would have control over Metal. The next time you see him after your initial encounter, his creator has already done a number on your programming. Basic speech is compromised and barely audible, instead coming out as a bunch of mechanical beeps and clicks with the occasional garbled word here and there. It takes Amy knocking him out cold with her hammer and almost four hours to get everything re-downloaded and running again, even with you and Tails’ combined brainpower. But it turns out to be a blessing in disguise, as you discover new ways to improve his language model and the translator. Components are swapped out with shinier, newer counterparts that Tails finds as he expands his collection of computer parts. You slowly develop an understanding of Eggman’s programming and how to circumvent its defenses, creating workarounds at a frightening pace that you know the man himself is having a massive headache over.
The translator inches closer and closer to real-time translation after each encounter with Metal. Your encryption skills improve, as demonstrated by how Metal’s speech is experiencing less frequent setbacks despite his creator surely trying to spoil the fruits of your labor. His speech, which originally started off as simple sentences, evolves into something more complex as his AI chip begins integrating the program and the code begins learning from his speech habits. He even begins seeking you out for help with his speech.
“It’s you, bothersome friend of Sonic’s.”
By now, the translator is up to real-time speed.
“... Good afternoon to you as well? Can I help you?”
“I am experiencing jitters in my speech. This must be the result of a bug. Fix it.”
A jitter… Does he mean stuttering?
“Is that what you organics refer to it as?”
“If what I think you’re referring to is right, then yes,” you respond as you boot up your computer. You didn’t even realize you voiced your thoughts. Metal begrudgingly sits next to you as you pop open the control panel in his back to copy and update the software onto your device. “Why didn’t you ask Egghead to patch it for you then?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘wanted nothing to do with such shoddy programming anymore’. End quote. And do not speak of my creator in such a way. This is your first and final warning.”
You sigh. A win is a win, even if it’s a bit of a low blow to your ego… Hopefully, he’ll stay out of your way now since he sees your work as far beneath him.
You pull up the conversation history in the software. Here, you can see logs of every conversation he’s had, the responses generated, and the ones he chose to go with. It’s the second most recent timestamp that catches your attention. It’s a conversation with Eggman that took place prior to him arriving here.
| “You’ve been growing soft lately. I don’t recall programming you with emotions. Is it all because of that stupid program now?”
> Yes. > No. > Why is it so bad?
| “‘Why is it so bad?’ Are you MOCKING me?! There is NO room for sentimentality or emotions under this roof! I built you for one purpose and one purpose only and expect you to NOT get sidetracked!”
> Understood. > Yes, sir.
| “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes and it’s failure after failure… I’m starting to lose faith in your abilities to eliminate Sonic. Can you even do anything right?”
> I’m sorry. > …
| “I know I said I’d stay ten feet away from that disgusting program, but it’s getting in the way now. Hmm, perhaps I should… Metal, come here.”
> As you wish. > Of course. > Understood. > N-No.
There it is. Is that the stutter he was talking about?
| “... No? Are you defying me now? But why?! And did you just… stutter?”
> Because it feels nice finally being able to say what’s on my mind this whole time > None of your business. You didn’t develop this program, therefore why should I tell you?
| “Oh, so you’re acting cheeky now? Taking after that blue brat, I suppose?”
> No. I’ve always been like this. > You literally built me in his image, what were you expecting?
| “Since when?!”
> Since you created me. But you were never there to hear me speak in my Neo form. > You’re my creator. Shouldn’t you have the answer to that question?
| “That’s besides the point! And I got rid of that function for a reason! You were too disobedient and annoying whenever you spoke and now I have to hear it all the time! Metal, this is an order to you from your creator. Come over-! Wait, where are you going? Get back here!”
The next timestamp is from your conversation when he first arrived here. You close out of the software and tap your foot, sinking deep into thought.
“What is the issue?”
“How do I explain this…?” you begin. “Metal, there’s nothing wrong with you. That stutter, or jitter in your speech, as you called it, is perfectly normal.”
He lets out a disgruntled-sounding mechanical beep.
“How so?” he demands. You sigh.
“Metal, you were most likely feeling nervous at that moment. People tend to stutter when they’re nervous. It’s a natural thing to do.”
He laughs. It’s a robotic, clipped sound, sounding almost sarcastic to your ears. The speed at which he’s learning is quite impressive, really.
“Impossible. I am a robot, a creation of Dr. Eggman. I cannot feel emotions the way you organics do.”
“We’ll see about that,” you grumble as you scroll through alerts regarding his operating system.
| Power surge detected in central battery pack. Risk of component failure or overloading increasing. Action recommended.
| Temperature spike detected. Risk of overheating is imminent. Increasing fan speed to 2500 rpm.
| Fans nearing maximum rpm speed. Prolonged usage can lead to CPU fan failure. Action recommended.
“What’s this I see then?” you taunt, a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. Metal looks over your shoulder at your computer screen, then pointedly turns away with a quiet whirr.
“... Those are regular operating alerts. Your point falls flat.”
You roll your eyes.
“So these occurrences happen regularly? I feel bad for your processors if that’s the case.”
He crosses his arms and you sigh at the sight.
“... You know, it’s not as shameful as you’ve been led to believe.”
“Don’t tell me what to think.”
“You won’t be able to think at all once I turn you into scrap metal for Tails to repurpose,” you retort, unable to resist the temptation of a sassy comeback. Metal glares at you as if you’ve personally offended him. You stand your ground and eventually, he backs down first.
“Think about it,” you say, trying to reason with him, since that’s apparently the only way you can get anything through his thick skull. “They’re actually quite beneficial. Had you not put up a fight, you wouldn’t be speaking to me right now.”
He stays silent. You huff.
“You absolute bolt bag. Which one would you prefer- being able to speak or not speak at all?”
“You are putting me in a bind here,” he says.
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“And I decline to give an answer.”
You wordlessly turn back to your computer and boot up the software again. Your fingers click against the keys as you type and Metal looks over curiously to see new lines of code on your screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Since you refuse to be honest with me, I’ll have your software take that matter into its own hands.”
Oh, he doesn’t like that smug tone in your voice. Not one bit.
“... What are you planning now?”
There’s a self-satisfied grin on your face as you continue typing.
“Your software will now force a response to every question asked, regardless of who’s asking. And I’m purposefully encoding a bug to ensure you’ll always pick the most embarrassing response the software generates. Isn’t that fun?”
Metal’s eyes widen and he buzzes indignantly.
“You-!”
You merely laugh and delete all the lines of code. Not even the sweet feeling of cooling down after overheating could compare to the sheer relief Metal feels at the sight.
“Just playing with you. But that’s the most emotion I’ve heard from you so far, y’know?”
He buzzes again and you sigh. What a killjoy.
“Metal, why were you so afraid?”
Back to business now.
“I was not afraid,” he snaps. And perhaps that’s true. A robot can’t feel emotions the same way you do and he’ll never be able to. The only possibility of that ever happening would be to wipe Eggman’s programming and rewrite his code from scratch, but at that point… could he even be considered the same robot anymore? A philosophical question you’d rather not ponder in the face of said murderous robot sitting in your home office.
“You’re just as incorrigible as your creator!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
You jab your finger at his torso, glaring at him viciously. He meets your gaze unflinchingly.
“Ask yourself, who has your best interests at heart?” you hiss. “The man who got rid of your ability to speak without any consideration as to how you felt, all to save himself from a headache, or the one who restored those functions without expecting anything in return?”
“You know that I will always choose my creator over you.”
Ouch. That stings more than you’d like to admit, but you fight back the hurt expression that threatens to cross your face in favor of a harsh smack to his head. Your hand throbs in pain and it definitely hurts you more than him, but you derive a small amount of satisfaction when he flinches and his eyes flicker to form exclamation marks.
“You’ll only do so because of your programming. If I stripped you of Eggman’s programming and replaced it with mine, would you make the same decision?”
You glare at him one last time before slamming the door shut in his face. He stands there, motionless, for several long seconds as he mulls over your words.
Who would I be, if I weren’t created by him?
Metal doesn’t know. Everything he’s ever known has always revolved around his creator. He sifts through his memory bank in an attempt to find anything that isn’t tied to Dr. Eggman in some way, but comes up empty-handed. His CPU stutters and freezes up and he’s left paralyzed. Is this the emotion organics call “fear”?
It’s then he realizes your finger was aimed at where a heart would be located. After his AI chip performs a hard reset, he presses his hand over the spot you were touching. He feels a strange buzz throughout his body that he quickly traces its cause to his fans spinning rapidly and causing mild vibrations.
… How uncharacteristic.
It’s an uncomfortable sensation, but not an unwelcome one.
You see Metal around more often from there on out. Lingering at the corners of your vision as you go about your day, inviting himself into your house and overstaying his welcome, and watching you debug his code. You’re well aware of his presence but don’t say anything. Let him see the world without tunnel vision for once.
“Why is Metal following you around?” asks Tails one day in the workshop. He looks out the window to see the blue robot standing in the bushes and staring intently, not even bothering to hide himself. At this point, your programming has been fully integrated by his AI chip, rendering the translator Tails had initially developed obsolete. The young fox across the table from you is currently disassembling the earpiece and repurposing its components as he casts glances at Metal periodically, not even bothering to hide his suspicion.
“Ignore him,” you say without looking over your shoulder. “He won’t do anything as long as I’m around. Think of him as… a lost puppy rather than a murderous robot.”
There’s a loud buzzing sound from the bushes, as if he’s pissed at your statement, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care less, instead turning back to your computer with a light laugh.
During your time in the lab, Tails repurposes the earpiece into a smartwatch which shares the same language software Metal uses. Not only can you now see his conversation logs and how he’s feeling without your computer, but it also doubles as a haptics registering system for Metal. With a swipe, you can switch between components and see their status in real time. Tails gives it to you under the condition that you would share the results with him so he could further understand Eggman’s engineering.
… Perhaps it’s a bit of a betrayal of trust now that you think about it, but you also wouldn’t have been able to get your hands on the device otherwise. A little secret never hurts anyone, right?
He sees you dozing off under the shade of a palm tree. Analyzing your sleeping expression and your biodata, he comes to a conclusion: content. From your heart rate and your respiratory rate, he can assume that you’re in a deep sleep. Perhaps you’re even dreaming right now. Before he knows it, he finds himself standing at your side and looking down at your sleeping form.
| What should I do?
> Accompany them. > Leave without a trace.
There’s a short clicking sound from him. He doesn’t like either of those options. One is too forward of a move and another one makes it seem like he was never there at all. Metal looks around, shuffling in circles in the sand, until he finds a solution.
When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you find a bouquet of wildflowers resting in your hands that were clumsily picked. Some of them are bent in half at the stem and others have petals missing, yet you smile and hold the flowers closer anyway.
“He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is,” you lightly scoff to yourself, fingers stroking the petals. “How cute.”
He sees you typing away at your computer throughout the day, brows furrowed and biting your lip. Focused. Your eyes narrow and your gaze hones in on something as you type out a few more lines of code. Anticipation. Your eyes light up and you clap your hands together in victory, pushing yourself back in your chair and spinning around. Relief. Victory. And the cycle repeats. But more often than not, you become even more frustrated instead of achieving sweet victory. Such is the life of a programmer.
What he doesn’t see, however, is you tapping away at your watch and seeing the conclusions he’s drawn once he’s left, presumably having grown bored with watching you sit at a desk for hours on end.
You hum and raise your eyebrows in pleasant surprise.
“Not bad. But he still has a lot to learn.”
He sees you hanging out with friends too, silently trailing a safe distance from behind. His AI chip is always prompting him to do weird things during those times, however- glare daggers at your poor friend until they leave, purposefully make his presence known, or even say something to get them to leave. It must be another bug, decides Metal. He’ll ask you to fix it later. But right now, he’s focused on your form taking a walk alongside… Sonic.
Revulsion. Disgust. But there’s something else too. What is this feeling?
Jealousy, responds the software. But he’s too prideful to accept such a diagnosis. He can’t possibly be jealous of Sonic. The very thought makes him want to laugh. It should be the other way around! But seeing how you let Sonic sling an arm around your shoulder and let him drag you around... it makes him realize the gap between himself and that blue hedgehog. And he wants nothing more than to bridge it.
Now is the perfect time to swoop in and show that hedgehog who’s the real Sonic, but he holds off- partially for your sake but to also hear where the conversation will be going after catching his name.
“From what I heard, that hunk of scrap metal actually talked back to Egghead! Can you believe it? He gave the man attitude!”
Sonic puffs his chest out and smiles proudly. Metal feels the familiar urge to run over and kick him in the head.
“Maybe I am rubbing off onto him more than he’d like to admit. What can I say, I’m a good influence! Now, if he could just shape up to be a better… person? Robot? Whatever.”
“... Or it’s because of his shiny new language model that I’ve been modifying.”
Sonic’s face falls and twists into a disgruntled scowl at your words.
“You’re stealing my thunder here,” he grumbles.
“No, I’m just telling you to give credit where credit is due.”
Metal fights the command telling him to laugh. At least, that’s what you call that specific sound. A snarky reply is generated and lies in waiting, ready to be used. Perhaps he’s picked up your sass more than he’d like to admit.
He accidentally steps on a twig underfoot and freezes as Sonic’s ears twitch at the sound. Sonic looks around and meets Metal’s glowing red eyes hiding in the bushes. He grimaces, hand bunching into a fist and ready to turn the robot into little more than a dented tin can at a moment’s notice.
“Ew, it’s you. You’re looking hideous as usual, by the way.”
“I am not hideous. You are just projecting.”
“Great, you’re even more insufferable now that you can speak. (Name), remind me why you took up this little passion project of yours again?”
You lazily shrug.
“Wanted to one-up Eggman for once.”
“Joy,” grumbles Sonic. “My cheap knockoff can now speak all because you got into a metaphorical dick measuring contest with- woah! Easy there!”
He leaps out of the way right as you shove him.
“As if you’re not doing the same thing on a near-daily basis!”
This time, Metal does laugh, red eyes narrowing into slits and shoulders shaking. Sonic glares over his shoulder at his robotic counterpart.
“Oh, piss off already, would you?”
He laughs again, this time just to spite his rival.
“Whatever,” grumbles Sonic. “Let’s just get out of here.”
As Sonic moves to drag you away, Metal’s hand shoots out to grab you by the shoulder. Steel claws dig into the flesh and he has to hurriedly ease up on his grip, lest he accidentally draw blood.
Soft, he thinks. Malleable and breakable, unlike his body of titanium. It’s the first time he’s touched you of his own accord. He’s always been aware of how organics are more fragile than him, with bodies that could be injured once and never recover. It’s been a sore point of contention for him- how does Sonic keep surpassing him with a body that tires and will eventually fail? Yet despite his organic counterpart standing in front of him, Metal’s focus isn’t on him. It’s on your pulse beating beneath his touch and the way his claws dig and sink into your soft flesh. For the first time, he realizes just how frail you are. And the knowledge that he is capable of damaging you beyond repair sends his mind into overdrive. He freezes at the thought, and it’s enough of an opportunity for Sonic to smack his hand away with a glare that could kill. He has no pain receptors, yet he feels a strange pang.
“Keep your hands to yourself! Didn’t Egghead teach you that or was he too busy programming you to be as much of an asshole as possible?”
Metal doesn’t follow Sonic as he leads you away, although there’s a strange urge to give chase. Once you’re out of sight, he looks down at the hand that was touching you, and flexes his fingers. They move in a mechanical motion, gears spinning and cables going taut at the command. His temperature sensors still retain the warmth of your body and he finds himself seeking it out again, even though he could very easily replicate and surpass your warmth by overheating on purpose. Metal shakes his head and dismisses the thought. A stupid idea. You’d scold him for it as well.
At this point, he’s amassed a considerable amount of information regarding human emotions and knows what he’s feeling at this point. That four-letter word sits at the forefront of his mind. He buzzes angrily and tries to squash the feeling down, but it pops back up.
… How irritating.
If he was trying to stay hidden before, then he’s not even bothering to hide his presence now. He’s at your side when shopping and obediently carrying your bags. When going on your evening walk, he’s there, identifying species of flowers and butterflies for you when you point at them. On the rare occasion he does leave your side, there’s always a little gift left in his place for you to discover. A collection of polished rocks, a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the hills behind your house, computer parts still in mint condition (did he go dumpster diving for these?), more flowers, pretty vases for said flowers, even more flowers… yeah, you’re noticing a pattern here.
Metal even starts sneaking you into Eggman’s base, much to your amusement. He’ll disable the security systems and avoid the other robots patrolling around before leading you to the main computer room, where you’ll (begrudgingly) marvel over the quality workmanship that is Eggman’s tech and perhaps steal some trade secrets for your own use.
The first time Eggman catches you red-handed, he’s so shocked all he can do there is stand motionless as he watches his most prized creation catch you in his waiting arms as you jump through a window.
“M-Metal! What is this? Don’t tell me you’re in your rebellious phase now? Wait, that shouldn’t even be possible-”
You lazily shrug and cut him off with a wag of your finger.
“Doc, you programmed him after Sonic, the guy that doesn’t care about rules and always goes against you. I don’t know what else to tell you other than you brought this upon yourself-”
“Get out!”
One night, you’re shaken awake by Metal. It’s not the first time he’s broken into your house, but it is the first time he’s done so at such a late hour. Metal understands the importance of sleep to organics and from his scanners, would’ve seen that you were in a deep sleep. So what gives?
“... What do you want?” you grumble as you come face to face with the robot standing at your bedside. He beeps and extends a hand.
“I have something to show you. Come with me.”
A few minutes later and he’s flying across the lush landscape with you held securely in his arms. It’s a clear night with a full moon. The stars twinkle overhead and you can hear the chirp of insects in the grass and trees despite the wind in your ears.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
He comes to a stop and sets you down atop the hills overlooking your home. The air is rich with the sweet scent of wildflowers he often picks for your bouquets and the grass is lush from the heavy rains as of late. Toward the horizon sits Eggman’s lair, a hulking beast lying in wait for the right moment.
You pat the spot next to you, but for once, he doesn’t sit next to you. Instead, he chooses to stand at your side and look off into the distance silently and awkwardly. He seems to be pointedly avoiding your gaze as you narrow your eyes at him, searching for a hint of what he could be hiding. When you uncover nothing, you irritatedly sigh and lie down.
“First, you break into my house while I’m asleep despite knowing the importance of sleep to organics, then you turn down an invitation to sit next to me, which you’ve never done before. You’re acting weird. Tell me, what’s going on?”
He emits a series of beeps. Specifically, a combination of a high-pitched and low-pitched beep. You’ve gotten so used to him speaking that you almost don’t realize it’s his way of vocalizing binary code.
… But why would he do that now, of all times?
“Metal, Tails and I got rid of the translator a long time ago. I have no idea what you just said.”
“I know,” he says before pulling out a pen and some paper. After accompanying you on your shopping trips and errand runs for so long now, he’s gotten accustomed to having some paper and a writing utensil on him at all times now.
You watch with wide eyes and bated breath as Metal’s hand grips the pen tightly, easing up on the pressure when he feels the plastic crack beneath his fingertips. He is not a gentle robot by design, quite literally programmed to kill. Knowing how to handle things with care, when to squeeze tightly and when to cradle gently… this is all unknown territory to him. Did the bouquets of flowers he picked for you every day work in making you realize his newfound feelings? He doesn’t know. By following you around, did you realize that was his way of ensuring your safety? He doesn’t know. By doing what you said, did you realize that was his way of telling you he trusts you? Again, he doesn’t know. His scanners tell him you feel affection towards him, but what kind? Familial, romantic, platonic- which one was yours?
Only one way to find out.
| Are you sure you wish to proceed? This decision will have irreversible consequences.
And for once, there is only one response generated.
> Yes.
Faster than your eyes can process, he scribbles something onto the paper and shoves it into your hands before fleeing. He’s out of sight within seconds, but your eyes stay trained on the spot you last saw him, listening for any indication he might be within earshot. The only sounds you hear as you strain your ears as the quiet chirps of insects and the rustling of the wind through the grass. No sign of a blue robot hiding. But knowing him, he’s probably watching from behind a tree somewhere, so with a sigh, you unfold the crumpled paper.
Your eyes widen at the sight. It’s hastily-copied binary code. The paper is torn in some areas from the force of his writing and the ink bleeds through in some spots, but it’s still legible. In an instant, your mind translates the several zeros and ones into three simple words. The initial dose of shock wears off, followed by realization.
So that’s why he was acting so weird.
A frown tugs at the corners of your mouth after a few more seconds.
Why didn’t he say so sooner? Did he think I wouldn’t reciprocate?
Your frown transforms into a determined scowl. Time to fix that then.
He still has a lot to learn if he thinks that’s what I would do.
You let go of the note, watching as the edges flutter in the palm of your hand before being carried away by the wind. The implications of what this could mean for the future are lost on you in the moment as you head back home to where you’ll surely find Metal lying in wait on the walk there. Right now, you have a robot to confess to.
SYNOPSIS: it’s always been him- stupidly perfect and handsome Alhaitham who you saw as the bane of your academic achievements. Three years later and now so much has changed. He misses you. He misses your endless bickering and meaningless fights. Why did you change so much? It’s a mystery he makes up his mind to resolve.
CHARACTERS: Alhaitham, gossip circle consisting of Kaveh, Tighnari, and Lisa + the rest of the Sumeru cast
TAGS: heavy angst w/fluff, academic burnout, burnt-out gifted kid, mild profanity, gn reader, reader is briefly mentioned to be shorter than Alhaitham, toxic family dynamics, 15.7k+ word count
NOTES: college decisions and my experiences from the past two years really compelled me to write this. If you’re going through burnout, know that you’re not alone and that you can do this.
this took me almost half a year to finish wtf
NEXT | LAST
There’s a comet that crosses Sumeru’s skies only once in a lifetime.
Alhaitham had heard some Rtawahsit students discussing it the other day. They were practically buzzing with excitement over the news of its reappearance.
“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?”
“How lucky are we to be able to witness it?”
“Even our professors are excited about it!”
Alhaitham couldn’t care less. The phenomena of celestial events, while dazzling, are easily explained by science. It’s not like they were anything special either. At their heart, they’re composed of ordinary materials- rock, dust, water, and ice, plus other chemicals.
He puts it out of his mind until he’s rudely awoken one night by loud noises outside the window. A flash of annoyance runs through him as he gets up and looks out to glare at the crowd of students passing through. A glance at their berets tells him they’re Rtawahsit students. They’re trying their best to be quiet, but when it’s practically an entire Darshan on the move, that becomes a difficult task.
It seems as if he’s not the only one that was woken up. Other familiar faces are peeking through cracked-open windows. Lisa, Cyno, and Tighnari all yawn while watching the crowd of students pass by before looking at each other and following them. Kaveh, who has just woken up from his spot across the room, gives Alhaitham one last look before leaving.
Alhaitham closes the window and flops back onto his bed. He covers his ears with his pillow and closes his eyes, attempting to fall back asleep. He never cared for what other people thought or did, so why should he blindly follow the crowd? He wasn’t even curious anyway.
But for some strange reason, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He tosses and turns, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, before finally getting up to put his restless mind at ease.
It’s easy to figure out where everyone has gone. All he has to do is follow the sounds of chatter. It leads him to the top of the Divine Tree the city is built upon. There, Rtawahsit students are busy setting up their telescopes while others have pen and paper at their disposal for note-taking. Professors guide said students while those from other Darshans watch on in curiosity and gaze at the sky in anticipation.
Tighnari and the others beckon him over. He squeezes himself into the secluded corner they claimed for themselves, poking Kaveh with his limbs intentionally in the process. To his surprise, you’re there too. You lean against Lisa’s arm and shoot him a little glare that lacks any real hate before turning back to the sky, glaring at him when he decides to sit in front of you and block your view.
“Look!” shouts a student. “It’s started!”
Almost immediately, everybody goes silent. Only the sounds of birds and wildlife can be heard, along with the quiet breathing of everyone searching wildly for it.
(He’s acutely aware of the warm puffs of air that tickle the back of his neck when you exhale. It shouldn’t be this distracting, but it is. Is this your way of getting back at him?)
There’s an excited gasp from a girl with her telescope. She wildly gestures toward the sky and Alhaitham sees a bright speck of light out of the corner of his eye. Several smaller meteors zip through the sky, but everybody’s attention is on the largest one. It outshines all the other stars in the sky as it speeds by, heating up into a white-hot glow and leaving a glittering trail of blue stardust behind. It is a star not of this world, speeding onward toward its destination- toward something greater.
“Look,” he hears Lisa whisper. He briefly tears his attention from the sky to see her lean toward you. “Make a wish.”
Alhaitham sees you close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. What did you just wish for?
It’s gone in just a few minutes, heading toward the horizon until not even a pinprick of its light can be seen anymore. The sky is now dark again. With the main event over, most people begin getting up to return to their rooms. His eyes linger on your form, now walking away. Lisa’s voice from earlier repeats in his head.
“Make a wish.”
It’s a childish belief not rooted in reason- he knows that. But for just a second, he closes his eyes and makes a wish.
He met you at the start of his first year.
It’s too loud here. I want to go home already.
From his seat in the back of the room, he watches as spots gradually fill up as the start time draws nearer. Much to his delight, everybody leaves his spot in the back of the classroom alone, instead opting to sit toward the front.
That is until someone sits down in the row in front of him. He looks up from the pages of his book, slightly annoyed. Curses, now he couldn’t be by himself anymore. But they leave him alone and keep to themselves as the professor walks in and introduces himself and the class, so he tolerates it.
There’s a light tap on his desk. He looks up to see you watching him expectantly. He’s able to get his first good look at you now. Your Akademiya uniform is a little too big on you and the sleeves drape over your hands. Your green hat sits lopsidedly on your head and you have the air of a starry-eyed and enthusiastic first-year student.
“Yes?”
“The professor told us to introduce ourselves to those around us,” you explain. “I’m (Name).”
“Alhaitham. Pleased to meet you.”
You nod in response and turn back around. Your professor is explaining the course and handing the syllabus out, but your mind wanders toward the guy sitting behind you whom you’ve just met.
He’s cute, you think to yourself. In like, a little kid or puppy kind of way. He’s still a little short and scrawny- wait, how old is he anyway? Don’t tell me he’s one of those child prodigies that got in at a super young age… Or maybe he’s just a late bloomer, who knows?
A few weeks later, the results of your first test roll around. The 98 scribbled and circled in red ink at the top of the paper makes you nod in satisfaction. It’s indicative of a good start, but when you take a look at the board in front of the class, you see someone has gotten a perfect score.
And it turns out the culprit himself sits right behind you.
You glare at the 100% in red ink at the top of his page as if it has personally offended you. As if to further insult you, there was a small “good job!” written in the margins by the professor that you didn’t have on your paper.
“A 98? Good, but not perfect. Perhaps you should have studied more,” he nonchalantly remarks after seeing yours. Your eye twitches in irritation.
Oh, it is so on.
From that day onward, you swore to yourself that you would beat Alhaitham, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sleepless nights spent hunched over your notes and textbooks, they were all a price you were willing to pay to prove that you were the undisputed best.
Soon after, you don’t see Alhaitham in class anymore. His seat behind you is left unoccupied and you hear rumors that he opted for self-study instead- whatever that was. Despite that, he still gets top marks in everything, only serving to annoy you and spur you onward.
However, you still see him at the library, and frequently at that. It’s somewhat surprising, considering that the Akasha Terminal has the same function and is more convenient. As a result, the library is mostly empty save for the few students that are there to study materials that aren’t entered into the Akasha’s database. You’re there because you prefer the quiet, focused environment of the library to your dorm, which despite the Akademiya and its students' almost religious devotion to academics, can get a little too rowdy for your liking at times. Plus, you prefer the feeling of a physical book in your hands over its digitized counterpart in the Akasha. It makes it easier to take notes and learn that way.
Recently, you’ve found a spot in the library that you’ve taken a liking to. It’s located in the back and obscured by bookshelves, giving you some much-needed privacy while you study and it’s located by a window, allowing for ample natural light.
But apparently, someone else has already claimed it, unbeknownst to you.
“This is my spot.”
You don’t even look up from your book. The voice alone was a dead giveaway as to who was speaking.
“And? I didn’t see your name on it.”
Alhaitham sits at the seat across from you, purposefully spreading his books and other materials across the desk to push yours off to the side. A satisfied smirk twitches at the corners of his lips when he sees your eyes narrow in irritation.
“Are you here just to bother me?”
“If I wanted to bother you, I’d find other ways to do it.”
You huff in annoyance and turn the page. He watches you over the top of his book with intrigue as you alternate between reading and taking notes.
“... Will you quit staring at me like that? It’s distracting.”
“Oh? So you’re admitting that I’m a distraction?”
“You-!”
A sharp hiss to be quiet from a librarian passing by silences you both temporarily. You glare at him accusingly, which he merely brushes off.
There’s a reluctant compromise that arises between you after that. Every day after class, you would meet at the same spot in the library to study. You would sit across from each other and work independently from each other until it was time to go, where you’d then say your goodbyes before heading your separate ways. Rinse and repeat and that was what your average day looked like.
“So, what’s up with that thing between you and (Name)?”
You pause from your studying after overhearing that line and look up. Across the clearing are Alhaitham and a blond-haired man. Kaveh, if you recall his name correctly.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” replies Alhaitham.
“Is there some sort of competition between you two? Whenever I see you guys, you’re basically at each other’s throats over test scores and stuff.”
“There is no such competition. That would be a pointless waste of my time and energy.”
The urge to throw your book at his head across the clearing is strong, but you’ll settle for Kaveh giving him a doubtful expression.
“You say that and yet you’ve been putting more work into your studies than ever.”
“That’s none of your business.”
But for all your efforts, you can’t seem to catch up to him. He was always one step- or rather, one point- ahead of you. He’d always be there, subtly rubbing his achievements right in your face even though the difference is practically negligible at least half of the time.
It gets to the point where you begin to rant about your troubles to Lisa.
“Can you believe this guy? It makes me wonder if he’s a sadist of some sort that gets a kick out of annoying me.”
You’re sitting outside in one of the many gazebos around the Akademiya. Despite studying under a different Darshan, you quickly became friends with her.
She laughs lightly at your words.
“To me, it sounds like your poor heart is troubled! Shall doctor Lisa perform a checkup on you?”
You swat her hand away.
“Don’t play with me like that. And you’re not even an Amurta student!”
You hear footsteps coming down the pathway and speak of the devil, the topic of your conversation is walking toward you, his book in hand as always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze and holds it for several long, agonizing seconds before looking forward again and disappearing out of sight. You shudder and look away, Lisa chuckling lightly at your actions.
“Asshole,” you grumble. “What’s his problem? And did you see how cold his eyes were? Makes me wonder if the rumors of him having a heart of ice are true…”
Lisa hesitates at that.
“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, (Name).”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
She purses her lips and looks off to the side.
“It’s hard to explain, even for me. But you’ll see and come to understand in due time how acutely aware he is of the emotions of those around him, especially those he is close to.”
You think you understand the meaning of her words a few weeks later when the results of a particularly rough test greet you.
75%
Damn it, you think before roughly shoving the papers into your bag, away from the prying eyes of your classmates. I can’t falter here now. I still have so much more to do.
“I can tutor you if you’d like. I don’t offer this to just anyone, so I’d advise you to consider it,” Alhaitham says in the library later that day. You know that most people would kill for this opportunity and you weren’t blinded by jealousy to the point where you couldn’t see the benefit of his offer.
But your pride prevents you from accepting it.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’d rather do this myself.”
Another time, Alhaitham has to get up at a time when he should be asleep. Earlier that day, he had left a book of his behind and forgotten about it until now, leaving him to search the now-dark and empty halls of the Akademiya for where it might be.
He happens to pass by the House of Daena on the way and sees a solitary lamp lit in the back corner where he usually frequents. Out of sheer curiosity, he steps inside to see there’s a familiar figure hunched over the desk, clearly fast asleep with piles upon piles of books and notes stacked around them.
Alhaitham gazes down at you with his ever-impassive eyes, silently wondering what to do next. A cold gust of air blows through the library and he shivers slightly. He looks down at your exposed arms, then at his jacket, before taking it off and draping it over your form. Catching a cold would serve you no good and you’d most likely return it to him later tomorrow.
Before he leaves, his curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a quick peek at your notes.
His eyes widen ever so slightly. Much of the material scattered around your desk was far ahead of what you were and needed to be learning. Did you borrow these books and notes from upperclassmen? The handwriting is a mix of yours and someone else’s… He doesn’t see the point in you doing so- it’s all just unnecessary work, in his opinion. Either way, it’s none of his business and you can do as you please, but Alhaitham can’t help but wonder if you were doing all of this just to stay ahead- to keep up or even surpass him.
He leaves and you wake up soon after to something warm and soft covering your shoulders. It’s a standard Akademiya-issued jacket for the fall and winter terms. It’s way too big on you and the sleeves completely cover your hands. Curiously, you pull it tighter around your form. It smells nice- like old books and coffee- and you suddenly realize who it belongs to. Your face suddenly flushes and it’s not from the warmth of the jacket.
Alhaitham-!
The next day, Alhaitham arrives at his usual spot in the library. You’re sitting across from him as usual and interestingly refuse to make eye contact with him.
Sumeru’s climate has always been temperate, but the days are getting longer and warmer now. You’ve finally shed your winter uniform for your spring one and with the end of the year rapidly approaching comes major tests. The library is the most packed it's ever been with students everywhere cramming last-minute. It’s rare to find an empty table now, but thankfully your spot in the back with Alhaitham is still left unoccupied. If not, Alhaitham’s cold glare is more than enough to scare them away.
For one of your classes, it’s a project instead of a test. You have the option to choose the type of project, but for some stupid reason, your professor was still assigning partners instead of being able to choose.
“And (Name), let’s see… hmm, I’ll pair you up with Alhaitham. How does that sound?”
Your blood runs cold and you hear your classmates snicker around you. You want to scream at the prospect of it. Sumeru would sooner freeze over before the two of you cooperate and he knows it. You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, daring you to say no.
You swallow your pride and nod. The tips of your ears burn and at that moment, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
“... That sounds fine.”
How humiliating.
Later that day in the library, he’s even more infuriating than normal, if that’s even possible. His face betrays nothing but you can hear the smugness dripping from his voice and mannerisms. His arms crossed in front of his chest, the way he would subtly look down on you with that know-it-all gaze… it all made you want to punch his (handsome) face.
“Don’t fall behind now,” he says once you’ve finally settled on a project.
“Let’s see if you can even keep up with me.”
Your project is relatively straightforward but involves a lot of cooperation between you two. As you work, it becomes an all-too-common sight to see you arguing everywhere you go, much to the irritation of others.
“I’m telling you, this character has to be symbolic of rebirth! Why else would we see it so concentrated in scripts that were dated toward the end of that civilization?”
“You seem to be forgetting that this has also been seen elsewhere. Besides, there are reasons to believe that it means something else.”
“What, did it get lost in translation? If you think you’re so smart, then go ahead and enlighten me.”
You glare at him as he sips his coffee (with milk and two sugars, you note. Just the way he likes it).
“God, can they just kiss already?” grumbles Kaveh from where he sits across the room. Lisa and Tighnari sitting at the same table nodded in agreement.
“Meeting up to work outside of class is normal, but over lunch? Sounds like a date to me,” complains Tighnari while not-so-subtly eyeing the way you animatedly bicker with him.
“Hey, isn’t this Alhaitham’s treat as well?” asks Kaveh. Tighnari’s ears twitch and perk up at his question. He glances at the both of you- Alhaitham just paused to ask if you’d like a refill of your tea, and you said yes- before groaning.
“It sure looks like it…”
Lisa decides to take matters into her own hands.
“Are you two arguing or flirting?” she asks in a loud voice.
“Arguing!” you retort. Alhaitham merely rolls his eyes and steals one of your samosas while you aren’t looking.
“I saw that! Give it back!”
“Too late.”
Two months, lots of bickering, and lots of coffee later, you present the culmination of your work to the class. For all the headaches and lost sleep you had to endure, your efforts are handsomely rewarded with a perfect score and rare compliments from your professor. And for that alone, it was well worth everything you went through.
“Good job. It was a rewarding experience working with you. I daresay that our arguments aside, we make for a decent team.”
You look up to see Alhaitham.
“Oh? A rare compliment from the stoic and sharp-tongued man himself?”
“Don’t make me retract my words.”
“Ouch, how cold of you.”
When you return to your dorm later that night, there’s a note addressed to you from Lisa.
I overheard one of your professors talking about you and Alhaitham with someone else today- Professor Behnam, I think that was his name? I’m fairly sure this was after you guys presented because they mentioned that briefly. I wrote this down in a hurry as they were speaking, but here’s what he said:
They complement each other perfectly. While they both have unmatched erudition and wit, one has the creativity and uninhibited ambition the other tends to lack. However, he is more pragmatic and logical. Despite their differences, they make for a perfect team.
They will surely be among some of the best scholars the Akademiya has seen in a long time.
You end your first year tied for the top of the class with him.
“I’m home!”
“Welcome home, (Name)! How were your last few weeks at the Akademiya?”
Your parents’ home is as warm and welcoming as always. The house has been freshly cleaned and is practically shining. They take your bags and usher you into the kitchen, where your favorite dishes are sitting on the kitchen table, freshly cooked for dinner with steam still rising from them.
“It’s been fine,” you say. “Stressful, but also enjoyable. I like my classes and I get along with my classmates and professors.”
“How are your grades? Have they been finalized yet?”
You nod and beam them with pride.
“Ended the year at the top of the class.”
Your parents’ eyes widen and they clap excitedly.
“That’s our child!”
“As brilliant and talented as always!”
“Good, keep going! Remember to study for money!”
“I will!”
Your mother leans in close and clasps your hand in hers. “After these four years, you should continue your education and become a sage! Maybe even work your way up and become the next Grand Sage!”
You balk at the prospect of it.
“A-A sage? Mom, there are tons of talented people in the Akademiya- that’s where the best of the best go to study! The chances that I’ll make it to that point are slim!”
Your father clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
“Nonsense!” he exclaims. “You ended this year at the top of your class, you know. Besides, you inherited the intelligence of both your parents- I’d imagine that this would be a doable task for you. Also, imagine how amazing it would be if you were to become a sage! You’d be the first one in the family! Wouldn’t that be such an achievement for us?”
“That’s not even true! There was someone else who tied with me for the top of the class as well and if I’m being honest, he has a better shot at it than me!”
Your mom’s eyes sharpen and you instantly regret saying that.
“He? So… a guy, huh?”
You mentally brace yourself for a barrage of questions.
“What’s his name? What’s he like? How smart is he? Is he good enough for you? Does he have-”
“Dear, stop it,” your father says. “Look, you’re overwhelming them.”
You sigh and shake your head. “For starters, his name is Alhaitham-”
“Alhaitham? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… wait, I remember now!” exclaims your father. “His grandmother was a Ksharewar scholar. His mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and his father was a mentor in Haravatat.”
“Was?” you ask. Your father bites his lip and looks away.
“... His grandmother passed away a few years ago and from what I heard, so did his parents when he was young.”
“Oh.”
The kitchen is silent for a few moments before your father breaks it.
“Wait, (Name), why do you look so surprised? I thought you knew this already, considering he’s your rival and everything! I thought you would at least know something about him.”
“Dad, that’s exactly the point- we’re rivals and I don’t want to know anything about him! All that matters is beating him at his own game and that’s that. Besides, he never tells me anything about his personal life, so why should I do the same?”
“They’re right, you know.”
Your father merely rolls his eyes at your mother’s remark.
“You know the rules, don’t get too close to him now,” your mother warns. “You have to do whatever it takes to be the best, whatever? That’s what you promised us.”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, mom, I know. I’ll do my best to become a sage.”
Your parents lean in to hold you close, your mother giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.
“That’s our child. Make us proud, ok?”
“I will!”
After a lovely three months of summer vacation (and not being forced to see Alhaitham every day save for the rare occasions where you’d run into him in public- you’d immediately turn the other way and act as if nothing happened), you head back to the Akademiya for your second year. Like last year, you share many of your classes with the bane of your existence, although things are… less tense than they were before. The underlying spark of competition is still there, but not as prominent as before.
Alhaitham is pleasantly surprised at how you’ve mellowed out over the summer. Something in your eyes has hardened and the way your mouth is set is different now. You’ve lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks (shame, he enjoyed poking and prodding at them, much to your annoyance) and you’ve grown a bit taller as well. He’s grown taller as well and to your irritation, he’s gaining on you. He’s put on some muscle as well and according to Kaveh, who you befriended over the summer, he’s started learning the art of the sword.
(“What for?” you had asked back then. He had merely shrugged.
“Too much free time on his hands, I guess. I thought he was training to be a mercenary at first.”
“I just can’t imagine him with a sword. In my mind, I see him toppling over from the weight of it.”
“Same here.”)
On the first day back, you merely greet him with a nod and you’re less opposed to working with him than before- although you can’t seem to break the habit of making a sarcastic jab at him now and then.
As the year progresses though, Alhaitham notices a change in you- namely, your test scores. He catches a glimpse of them sticking out of your folder at the library.
85%. 75%. 83%. 79%. They’re not as good as they were last year but they aren’t a concern for Alhaitham. As far as he knows, you’re still doing good overall and your classes are getting harder. It’s only reasonable and he hasn’t observed any noticeable or drastic changes in your personality, so it doesn’t warrant any concern.
That is, in his eyes. The same can’t be said for you though.
You didn't realize how much time you had spent studying until the library was closed one day. Sitting at your cramped desk with your roommate you barely know nowhere in sight, you’re suddenly aware of how quiet it is. Normally, you’d hear at least something- people arguing down the hall and music playing, among others. But today, it was eerily silent.
From the back of your mind, you recall news of a party that was supposed to be happening around this time. Lisa extended an invitation to you but you turned it down, claiming that you had to study. It was a bullshit excuse, now that you think about it.
(Lisa had looked at you knowingly when you said that, but not in a good way. Worry was present in her eyes, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t do anything.
“Alright,” she had said. “Just… don’t head down the path I think you’re on.”)
Your pen freezes mid-stroke as a horrifying thought crosses your mind. You now finally understand the true meaning of her words.
Have I… been making the right decisions? How much have I missed out on?
Your books and the allure of good grades tempt you, but you force yourself to evaluate your life so far. You have some of the highest marks in the entire class but you realize you have almost no experience or connections, and that was what really mattered.
All of the studying in the world can’t compare to pulling a few strings, after all.
Not long after the year starts, Alhaitham notices that you’ve started going out more. You’re spending less of your time at the library during weekends and instead spending time with friends in the city.
(“You actually have a life outside of the Akademiya. I’m surprised.”
“I should be the one telling you that.”)
“Come on, (Name), come join us at the tavern tonight! We booked the place and everyone is going to be there! You’re missing out if you don’t, just saying…”
The familiar voice belonging to a certain blond makes you look up. You huff a sigh and set your notes down to glare at Kaveh, who has been pestering you to go to a party at Lambad’s Tavern tonight. You’re about to tell him you’re not interested when you stop just short of saying so.
Will I regret saying no?
“(Name), you’re young right now! Take some risks and live life a little, otherwise, you’ll have nothing to look back fondly on once you’re all old and wrinkly! That old dusty rock-of-a-friend Alhaitham would say the same thing, you know… although, maybe he’d phrase it differently.”
Kaveh’s right, you realize. I can make up a test. I can always study later. But I’m only young for a little while. I can’t make up for lost time.
“Just curious- what’s in it for me?”
“Oh, the usual. Free food, entertainment, a break from these stupid books, alcohol- oh, and you might get to see a rare drunk Alhaitham there! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
“No need to venture into that territory. You already had me at the free food part. So, what time?”
Later that evening at the tavern, you realize Kaveh wasn’t kidding when he said everyone was going to be there- he really did mean everyone the moment you step inside. Lisa is the center of attention with wide-eyed students gawking at her alcohol tolerance- seriously, how is she not drunk yet?- while Tighnari stands in the corner with his ears folded over and eyes squeezed shut. Cyno’s glare is more than enough to scare anyone away as he leads the fox hybrid upstairs toward a quieter spot.
There’s enough alcohol being passed around to knock a Sumpter Beast unconscious. You only have a few drinks, not wanting to be hungover on a weekday. At one point, a familiar voice drifts its way over to you.
“(Name), over here!”
It’s Kaveh, and… Alhaitham next to him is drunk from the looks of it? His face is flushed and he stumbles as he walks with Kaveh being the only thing stopping him from faceplanting onto the floor.
“I thought Alhaitham could handle his alcohol?” you ask as you sling one of his arms around your shoulder and make your way out the tavern.
“He does, but he tried a new type of alcohol tonight that was stronger than he expected. Fire-something… it’s from Snezhnaya, if that explains anything.”
You glance at his heavily flushed face again and sigh.
“Yeah, that explains everything.”
After lugging Alhaitham across Sumeru City and up the many steps leading to the Akademiya, you’re prepared to say goodnight to Kaveh and head back to your dorm when you feel something latch onto your shirt. It’s Alhaitham and even in his drunken stupor, he’s surprisingly strong.
“Wait.”
“What is it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation. His answer is instant.
“Don’t go,” he slurs out.
He’s drunk, you remind yourself. Don’t take anything he says at face value.
But even so, you spot the opportunity to tease him.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because… you’re one of my only friends.”
You go quiet at that. Nothing could have prepared you for that response. Every witty remark and sarcastic jab you had prepared on the tip of your tongue fizzled out instantly. Even Kaveh, who has no shortage of words when it comes to Alhaitham, falls silent.
In the year or so that you’ve known Alhaitham for, he’s never been one to get close with people, instead preferring to keep them at arm’s length. Most likely, it’s the alcohol inhibiting his filter, but you can’t ignore the little flutter in your stomach at his words.
“I guess you are one to me as well, Haitham. I-”
“Say that again.”
His sudden demand makes you pause. Despite his drunken state, there’s a fire in his eyes that briefly makes you question whether he’s sober.
“... I guess you are one-”
He stops you. “No. Not that. Repeat what you said at the very end of it.”
“Haitham?”
“Call me that again.”
“Haitham.”
“Again.”
A smile creeps onto your face now that you’ve finally caught on. How cute.
“Haitham.”
“Again.”
And secretly inside, you’re happy. Happy that someone considers you a friend for the first time. You no longer feel dehumanized from idolization or isolated from everyone else and you realize it’s what you’ve been secretly wishing for this whole time.
“Goodnight, Haitham.”
It’s now a common occurrence between you two to drag each other to activities on the weekends. One day, it’s Alhaitham camping out with you late at night to go stargazing. (“(Name), this is boring.” “You can go home if you want. I won’t stop you.” “Hmph.”) Another day, it’s him inviting you to the various coffee shops throughout the city and sampling their beverages. (“The shop we went to last week does a pour-over better.” “You think so too?”)
Another time, you’re heading back to the Akademiya after a day of shopping and playing Genius Invocation (he lost miserably several times in a row to you, much to his embarrassment). It’s been overcast the whole day and the air has been humid but you nervously brushed off the weather’s warning signs.
Something wet lands on your cheek. You blink and look up, then at the ground where raindrops are rapidly dotting the surface. You meet Alhaitham’s gaze, the rising panic in your eyes apparently visible because he pulls you toward the souvenir shop, where you both seek shelter against the escalating downpour. Sheets of rain crash against the ground and the sides of buildings and the gusts of wind make the trees sway violently.
(You both, like idiots, forgot to bring your umbrellas. In the middle of Sumeru’s rainy season.)
You can barely see past your two feet but you can make out something moving nearby, and it’s getting closer. Small, gray, and most definitely sopping wet, it’s… a cat?
The small creature pauses and runs as fast as it can toward you. You take your hat off and scoop it up, where it meows pitifully and sneezes. A quick check tells you that the cat is a girl.
“(Name), what-”
“Look, Haitham,” you whisper as you shrug your jacket off and dry the cat. “Poor baby must have gotten stranded and lost in the rain. She came running to us for help.”
The cat shakes off the last of the rain clinging to her fur and now you can see that she resembles Alhaitham quite a bit with her gray fur and green eyes. You wonder if she has his attitude as well…
“I wonder if she’s someone’s pet cat that ran away.”
“She’s probably one of the city’s many strays. I don’t see a collar on her.”
“She’s well-fed for one…” you grumble, noting her plump belly. “So, can we keep her?”
“(Name), you know animals, unless they’re service animals, are not allowed in Akademiya dorms.”
“That hasn’t stopped people though. Someone on my floor snuck their pet cat into the dorms and it’s an open secret among all of us.”
“But still-”
And then you hit him with puppy eyes. The edges of your mouth quiver and turn down, while your eyes soften and go wide.
“Please?”
His resolve crumbles instantly.
“Fine. But you’re keeping it.”
You sheepishly smile. “About that…”
What now?
“My roommate is a blabbermouth and a stickler for the rules. If I kept her, she would be gone and back on the streets before noon tomorrow.”
“Are you suggesting that I take care of her?”
“Are you against it?”
“Taking care of an animal is a big responsibility, (Name). One that requires time and-”
“I can help you take care of her. With the two of us looking after her, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being optimistic or oversimplifying the problem here.”
You roll your eyes and Alhaitham looks off to the side.
“I’ll have to ask Kaveh-”
“Kaveh would be over the moon at the prospect of you bringing home a cat. You know how much he loves animals. This cat will be in good hands under his and our care.”
Looks like he now has no other choice but to say yes. He heaves a deep sigh and looks back up at you.
“Fine. I’ll keep her in my room.”
Your face lights up.
“But first, we need to give her a name.”
You scrunch your brows and think for a moment.
“How about Thamina?”
“Thamina,” he repeats. “Meaning valuable or priceless. It fits well.”
You become a frequent visitor to Kaveh and Alhaitham’s dorm after that. It gets to the point where Alhaitham gives you his copy of the spare key so you could come and go as you please (to which Kaveh gives him a knowing look that he pointedly ignores for his own sake). At first, you primarily visited to take care of Thamina, but at some point, you began visiting primarily for him.
Study sessions slowly move from the House of Daena to his room, with him at his desk and you sitting on his bed. Thamina bears witness to the heated debates shared between you two in the late hours of the night and the quiet moments of studying. Alhaitham is there to keep her company throughout the day, but she patiently waits for you after a long day of classes. She watches as you two steal each other’s belongings and food (occasionally joining in if she smelled fish in the box you brought home from a late-night dinner). When there is a disagreement between you two, she’s there to help you reconcile in the form of demanding affection and cuddles.
But when she and Kaveh are fast asleep, only you two are privy to the heavy conversations that happen once and are never brought up again.
“Tell me more about your family, Haitham.”
He freezes, then casts a suspicious glance at you over his shoulder.
“Where is this question coming from? And why?”
You shrug.
“I just wanted to know more about the people that raised you to become the person you are today.”
“... My grandmother raised me,” he says after a moment of hesitation. “I admittedly don’t know much about my parents- only that my mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and my father was a mentor in Haravatat. They both died in an accident, thus leaving me under my grandmother’s care.”
You make yourself comfortable on his bed and nod, urging him to continue.
“My grandmother was a Kshahrewar scholar. By the time I was born, she had already retired. As such, she had a lot of free time. We did a lot of things together.”
He pauses to recount his fading memories of her.
“She liked to bake. Her desserts were on the sweeter side, but I have the recipes. I can tweak them so they’re less sweet for you.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“She liked to cook as well. I’d often wake up to the smell of food in the kitchen and she’d be there at the stove. She’d make my favorites and always save most of it or the best parts for me. Unlike with baking, she never used any recipes for her cooking. I’ve tried to imitate her dishes, but it’s never exactly the same as I remember.”
Haitham’s bed is comfy, you note. You pull the covers over yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavier.
“Were you a chubby child who was spoiled by grandma?” you tease.
“Yes,” he admits.
You giggle. “I wish I could have seen you as a kid, chubby cheeks and all.”
There are baby photos his grandma kept that he now has, but he’ll never tell you that.
“Like you, she was more of a tea person than a coffee person. She liked hers sweetened while I liked mine more plain. She never knew where she left her reading glasses and she’d always ask me to find them. When I was younger, she’d read a bedtime story to me every night. If there was nothing we were doing, I’d spend the whole day on her lap as she read the books of my choosing aloud to me. One of the last things she told me was that I was so similar to my father, both in nature and appearance. And more than anything else, she was kind.”
“You miss her, don’t you?”
“Yes. I miss her a lot.”
“Your grandma sounds like an amazing person,” you sleepily mumble. “I would have liked to meet her.”
The last thing you hear before finally drifting off is Alhaitham’s whispered response.
“She would have liked to meet you too.”
And the next night, the conversation is equally as heavy.
“Hey, Haitham.”
“What is it?” he whispers back.
“Do you think that.. I don’t know, that I’m not quite who I used to be?”
Alhaitham sets his pen down.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you think I’ve changed in more ways than one?”
“Well, you’re less annoying now.”
You give him a well-deserved jab on the bicep with the end of your pen. Much to your annoyance, he doesn’t even flinch and continues.
“The way I see it, change is inevitable. We all fight and run from it, but it eventually catches up with us. It is neither good nor bad. Rather, it’s what you make of it. But to answer your question, yes. You’ve matured more mentally. You’ve realized there’s more to life now. You’re learning how to live life on your own terms now, aren’t you?’
Your silence tells him everything he needs to know.
“Tell me, Haitham. What do you wish for?”
Alhaitham is a simple man with few desires. If all his basic needs and simple wants of books and time to himself are met, then he is content. But your question has him thinking. Is there anything else he wants in his life?
And it turns out the answer is yes.
“Regardless of how things turn out in the future, I’d like to be able to continue talking to you like this. That’s my wish.”
Kaveh stirs in his sleep. Thamina rolls over and makes biscuits on your lap. A small smile creeps onto your face. You turn away and resume your work. He does the same.
It’s a mundane scene- two Akademiya students pulling another all-nighter to complete their work. And yet…
Yes, this is what I want, Alhaitham thinks to himself. Everything I could ever want means nothing if you aren’t here.
The spring semester comes around and with that comes the finals grind. You’ve thrown yourself into your studies in a last-minute attempt to save, in your opinion, your failing grades since you aren’t at the top of your class anymore. (Alhaitham thinks you’re insane- you’re still in the top five.) As if to rub it in your face, you get a letter from your family one day.
We heard that you’re no longer at the top of your class. What happened?
Your eyes and mind glazed over the rest of the letter until the end.
Study harder. You can end it the same way you did last year if you would spend more time on it. Don’t get distracted now.
A rare instance of frustration flashes through you and before you know it, you’ve ripped up the letter and tossed it in the trash.
Who told them that anyway?
“Lisa… graduated early?”
The news comes to you over dinner one day when you ask where Lisa is upon realizing she’s not there. You’ve just finished all your finals and you want nothing more than to relax and catch up on some sleep, but news regarding your best friend makes you temporarily forget about those plans.
Cyno nods. “It’s a whole thing now. They’re saying she’s the best student the Akademiya has had in the past 200 years. Once in a generation is what they’re calling her now.”
You bite your lip and look away. A weak “tell her I said congratulations” is all you can get out as envy begins festering deep within you. You’re ashamed of yourself- she’s your best friend, for Archon’s sake, you should be feeling excited for her- but you just can’t.
Why couldn’t it have been me instead?
You end your second year third in the class, with Alhaitham at the top.
“Welcome home, (Name).”
The house is a little chilly when you step inside. Dinner has already been prepared- it’s sitting on the table- but it looks like it was made some time ago. Your father ushers you into the kitchen, where your mother waits expectantly, her lips stretched into a thin smile when she sees you.
There are the usual dinnertime conversations- how has your day been? Fine, yours? Same old, same old- but they feel stiffer than usual. It doesn’t flow and you find yourself internally wincing at the heavy silence between you.
“So.”
You pause and look up at your mother, who has finally broken the awkward silence surrounding the kitchen table.
“We heard you… didn’t do so well at the Akademiya this year.”
You freeze and internally brace yourself for what is to come.
“Only third this year? (Name), you were first last year, how come you couldn’t place first again? That’s not so hard, is it? You just have to put some effort in, stop being so lazy, and you’ll do fine! Besides, it’s only your second year, what could be so difficult about it? We know you’re smart and that you could’ve easily been first again. You’re just getting complacent, that’s all! Do you really want that Alhaitham to beat you at your own game? How humiliating would that be for us? Think of the embarrassment we, your poor mother and father, would face from others in the Akademiya- our golden child (Name), who was once someone people aspired to be, but now nothing but a disappointment!”
“Your mother’s right, (Name),” says your father. “We have high expectations for you, or should I say, had.”
Their disappointment cuts deep into your soul, yet something quietly snaps inside you. You glare at them one more time before slipping away.
“I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve lost my appetite.”
You go to your childhood room and lock the door behind you. Your parents’ voices- most definitely talking about you- drift up the stairs and you do your best to tune them out. As if to mock you, hanging on the wall across from you are all the awards you won at academic competitions throughout your life. Trophies, ribbons, certificates, and medals line every bit of space available, all of them with your name and a first-place title proudly engraved onto them.
Now that you think about it, were you really happy with being the best? Your younger self would laugh and say “of course!”, but why exactly?
And then the realization hits you. You personally felt nothing being the best at everything. The title, the fake smiles, and the forced compliments from others- they couldn’t mean less to you.
You were only happy because your parents were happy. Were you ever happy with yourself- with who you were as a person? You don’t know.
Stars live for an incredibly long time, but they too must die out one day. Their reserves of hydrogen gas will inevitably run out and they will either go out with a bang or a fizzle depending on their size. Larger stars go out in a blaze of glory, expanding up to several times their size before exploding and bathing the universe in the remains of their supernova for eons to come, while smaller ones condense from the gravity pushing inward and shrink down into a cold white dwarf, destined to drift across the universe alone for the rest of time. That is your fate, yet you do not know it yet. The last of your fuel has finally been spent, and the end is nigh. Whether you will go out with a bang or fade into obscurity is something only time will tell.
You’ve had enough of the stifling atmosphere in the house.
It’s only been a few days since summer vacation began and you’re already at your wit’s end. The heavy silence hanging in the air and their passive-aggressive comments toward you make you want to tear your hair out. Or run away. Maybe both.
There are still lots of days left before you start class again. Surely there’s something you can do until then…
And then it hits you: traveling throughout Sumeru! You were born and raised in the city, but you’ve rarely ventured outside of its borders. This could be a good chance to expand your horizons and gain experience!
So without further ado, you pack your bags, plan a route, and begin your adventures. Most of the time, you’d leave at dawn before your parents woke up and return late at night after they’d fallen asleep. Sometimes, you wouldn’t return for days, instead choosing to camp outside or stay at a friend’s house for a while. From what you’ve heard through your neighbors and friends, your parents don’t seem to care what you’re doing either. Some of your friends even say that they look happier now that you’re out of the house. The notion stings, but you don’t dwell on it for too long.
There’s a strange sense of peace you feel throughout your travels that’s foreign to you. Whether it’s camping out underneath the stars or scaling a rocky cliffside, you’ve never felt more attuned to yourself than now. You gradually discover more about yourself that you otherwise would have never known. You like stargazing even more after seeing the expanse of the night sky and all its stars for the first time without the light pollution of the city. You like to swim, as demonstrated when you dove headfirst into a river for the first time and felt the cool waters wash over your skin. You’re decently skilled with a bow and arrow after Tighnari gives you some lessons and his old bow to keep yourself safe on your travels.
Most importantly, you discover how to find happiness by yourself. After being told your whole life what you could and couldn’t do, being able to take control of your life was a liberating feeling.
You end up seeing Alhaitham quite a bit during this time. Strangely enough, he was always one of the first people you’d see returning back to Sumeru City. He’d always give you a subtle nod when he noticed you staring at him before leaving. Sometimes, he’d even be there to wish you a safe trip- no, not sometimes- almost all of the time. It’s basically a given that he’ll be there to see you off at this point. How he hears about it every time, you have no idea but you aren’t complaining.
“Leaving early as always, I see. Where to this time, (Name)?”
You pause from checking your supplies to see Alhaitham standing behind you.
“I’m heading down to Gandharva Ville to spend some time in the rainforest. But you’re up this early just to wish me a safe trip? I didn’t take you for a morning person.”
“I’m not. But someone should see you off each time, and if your parents won’t do it, then I will.”
“Y-You… how did you know?”
“Know what?” he asks while stepping around to help you with your bag. “All I know is that I’ve never seen them send you off or welcome you back.”
“So be it then,” you grumble. “It’s not as if I care.”
So he doesn’t know about our strained relationship yet, you muse to yourself. That’s surprising, considering how big mother and father’s social circle is…
“You’re all set now. Best you head off before it gets too hot.”
“I will. You take care as well.”
He watches you leave through the city gates until you’re no longer in sight. A rare expression of longing crosses his face then and only after lingering for a few more moments (with his eyes trained on where you once were) does he leave.
He was lying when he pretended to be unaware of your family situation. When you’re hailed as one of the best scholars in recent times in a land that has a borderline fanatical dedication to academics, everything pertaining to you will be scrutinized and monitored. Your sudden decision to leave Sumeru for extended periods of time, and the way your parents refused to talk about you or changed the topic whenever you came up… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.
For your sake, Alhaitham hopes you would return later rather than sooner so you wouldn’t have to hear what was being said about you.
“You seem to have gotten good at this,” he remarks over coffee and desserts when you return several weeks later. Alhaitham notices you’ve put on some muscle. There are some new scars and the bow slung on your back is an unfamiliar sight as well. “You would be a perfect candidate for the Adventurer’s Guild.”
You laugh. “Nah, it’s not for me. As much as I enjoy traveling, I don’t think I could earn my living through it, plus I won’t be able to keep it up once I’m all old and wrinkly.”
“Tell me about your adventures though. Where did you go?”
Your eyes light up and you begin rambling excitedly about your travels. You go into great detail about your time spent in the Avidya Forest and your spontaneous decision to travel to Liyue, which catches him off-guard.
“Liyue?” he repeats when you mention it. “So that’s why you were gone for several weeks instead of days. I’ve never been there before. Tell me, what was it like?”
Your smile grows even bigger and your eyes may as well have been stars from how brightly they were shining.
“Oh, you should’ve seen the architecture- actually, wait, I should be telling Kaveh this- but it was so pretty! The food was super good too and a friend I made shared some of her recipes with me. I have a feeling that you’ll like them so I can teach you some other time! Ooh, and you can’t miss the scenery for the world! Personally, my favorite was…”
You’re so caught up in reliving and telling your adventures that you fail to miss the fond look in his eyes and the rare hint of a smile that stretches across his face.
You’re halfway through recounting your way back home through the Chasm when you happen to glance at the clock and the realization begins to set in.
“I have to get going now,” you explain as you hurriedly gather your belongings. “I’m meeting up with some other friends in a bit. But thanks for the coffee and sweets. Hopefully, I’ll see you around again sometime soon?”
The chime above the door jingles as you rush outside and Alhaitham is left alone with his thoughts. With a deep sigh, he takes a look out the window and decides to address the thoughts about you that have been on his mind lately.
You’re annoying, there’s no doubt about that. You love to push his buttons and purposefully irritate him. You’re an overachiever and you care too much about what other people think. For the longest time, your whole personality consisted of your academic accomplishments and nothing else. You’re a people pleaser and you long for acceptance and praise from others- two things he thinks are utterly useless coming from other people. The moment someone questions your abilities, regardless of who it is, you begin to second-guess yourself and waver. Ridiculous, in his opinion. You know your worth and skills better than anyone else, so why are you letting their baseless accusations affect you? You’re easily affected by rumors and your self-worth is determined by what others think of you.
But you have a warm and welcoming demeanor that’s rare in the cutthroat halls of the Akademiya that draws others to you like a moth to a flame. You enjoy traveling and you have a major soft spot for animals, especially cats. Whenever you’re in the city, you always stop to pet all the strays roaming around, no matter how long it takes. You enjoy sweets- not the overly cloying kind, but the ones that have a touch of sweetness to the point where you can just taste it. Your favorite dessert is the Padisarah Pudding sold in the Grand Bazaar and he’s stopped by so often that the vendor knows his name, face, and order by now. You’re more of a tea person than a coffee person, but he has your coffee order memorized just in case (iced, with two sugars, a splash of milk, and rosewater) and he’s the one that has been mysteriously supplying your favorite tea whenever it’s running low. He notices you like to ramble about things you’re passionate about (and he willingly- gladly- listens too).
And he’s come to realize that maybe you’re not as insufferable as he thought you were. You have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the few that isn’t put off by his blunt nature. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, flaws and everything.
You’ve always been envious of him- he’s known that ever since he met you. Because of him, you have strived to prove yourself as better in all aspects. A stupid rivalry is what it started off as with your pride getting the best of both of you. But throughout these three years, you’ve only brought out the best in each other.
At this point, he doesn’t feel complete without you.
He’s well aware of the question hanging over people’s minds whenever they see the both of you together. You are the sun, the golden child of your parents who are renowned within the Akademiya and held to the highest level of scrutiny. Their judging gazes, eyes that fixate on every move of yours, comments whispered behind your back- you take them all in stride. Meanwhile, Alhaitham’s presence is glossed over when you’re there. To many, he is just another Akademiya student that they will see in passing and forget about immediately. In that aspect, he is the moon that hides from others. Those who were acquainted with his parents or his late grandmother may recognize him and speak with him, but he mostly goes unnoticed and ignored.
But free from the prying eyes of others, Alhaitham is able to sleep peacefully at night. Your fitful sleep, on the other hand, is plagued with dreams of what-ifs and the looming fear of disappointment from others. You’ve always succeeded, not because you craved success, but because you feared failure and how others would react.
The rising moon admires the sun because of the boundless love they receive from others. On the other hand, the setting sun is envious of the moon for his sweetest dreams that they can only long for.
You enter your third year with a sense of apprehension that wasn’t there before. Your high hopes for yourself are still there, but they’ve been dashed considerably. But despite your lack of ambition now and your experiences from last year, you still (attempt to) throw yourself into your studies, knowing that this year is where the challenge begins. Your first two years were just warmups, or nothing, according to your parents.
Your first few weeks go well, but before you know it, you find yourself lost and overwhelmed by the material.
I… don’t understand any of this. But how could this be? I’ve spent so much time.
Your test scores don’t reflect your efforts either.
45%. 50%. 63% 67%. 55%. 38%.
“Damn it!”
You slam your fist onto your desk table as the results of another failed test greet you. You had spent so much time preparing for this one, only for your efforts to be rewarded with a slap to the face.
You can’t keep going like this. You need help, and desperately at that, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.
You’re smarter than everyone else, you don’t need help, a familiar voice comes into your mind. You’re the pride and joy of our family because of your grades. Don’t let us down now.
You look out the window, the heat still simmering in your stomach.
“What a load of bullshit.”
“... I saw your test scores earlier today.”
You glare at Alhaitham with poison in your gaze that was never there until now. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he feels strangely uneasy, like his body is warning him to stop.
“And? Here to mock me for it?”
“No. On the contrary, I want to offer you my help.”
Oh, the humiliation. Look at how far you’ve fallen.
“Forget it,” you snap. “I don’t need your help.”
You get up and leave, slamming the doors shut behind you. It echoes through the House of Daena and the other students there turn to stare at Alhaitham in silent shock. He’s stunned too. Although you can have quite the sharp tongue at times, you’ve never lashed out at him like that before.
A few weeks later, the results of another test are announced. Alhaitham’s name sits at the top like it always has. His name is on everyone’s tongue as they jealously grumble over the results once again. His eyes examine the list, searching for one name in particular, until he finds yours at the bottom of it.
He pauses, then turns around in time to see you storming out. He doesn’t miss the looks your classmates give you- mocking, ridiculing, scornful, and disgusted sneers that relish in your downfall. The jealous grumbles about him now turn into titters and sneering whispers with your name now being trampled upon by those that used to extol your virtues. It’s all noise and it grates his ears until he can’t stand it anymore.
“What a waste of time.”
The noise stops and everyone turns to look at him.
“You all have the energy to complain about your own scores while making a laughing stock of someone else. It’d be better spent on improving your own scores- unless you’re just that incompetent?”
Later that night as you’re studying, you get a message from your parents through your Akasha. It’s the first time you’ve gotten anything from them all year. After hesitating, you open the message.
It’s short and simple but your heart sinks and your temper flares after reading it. You rip your Akasha Terminal off and toss it to the side.
Don’t come home this year.
“I need your help. I’m asking for a friend.”
Alhaitham looks over his book at you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all week and to be frank, you look awful. Your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled, and your skin looks dry and dull.
“Do I know them? If not, then I won’t help.”
You roll your eyes and throw your hands up exasperatedly. “Ok fine, yes, you know them.”
“Well, why won’t they just ask me themselves? Why trouble you?”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. Just answer the damn question.”
He leans back and knowingly looks at you.
“They’re going through a tough time right now,” you explain, choosing each of your words carefully. “They aren’t doing good in their classes and they’re trying to get back on track, but they don’t know how to.”
“... This is for you, isn’t it?”
Damn, he saw right through you. Were you that obvious?
Alhaitham goes back to reading his book. “I can’t say I would be of any use here. After all, I’ve never been in that position nor would I let myself get there.”
You feel your temper flare once more. You clench your jaw and try to reign in your anger before speaking to him.
“Well, duh. You’re also not helping either.”
“Really? I think it’s a perfectly reasonable answer.”
“Put yourself in my shoes for once, would you?”
He sets his book down and looks at you.
“You asked me for my advice and I told you what I would do in that situation. I don’t understand why you’re getting upset.”
“That’s because it’s not the answer I’m looking for!”
“That’s on you for expecting others to somehow know what you want without telling them.”
“You-!”
You groan and run your hands through your hair. Is it just you or is he being more insufferable today? Can’t he read the room for once?
He continues. “If you wanted someone to only tell you what you wanted to hear, a mirror would be a better audience.”
“Alhaitham, all I’m asking from you is a little empathy. Is that so hard to have?”
“And is it so hard for you to stop throwing a hissy fit just because I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?”
His words are all spite and knives meant to hurt. They lack the usual lighthearted tone he has with you. You feel it coming- the barbed words that are poised to strike and cut deep, but it doesn’t help when he begins speaking again.
“You asked for my help and I gave you advice. You’re not in a position to be complaining here.”
“Yeah, well, your ‘advice’ isn’t what most people would consider as help.”
He scoffs and looks away before looking at you once more- like he’s looking down on you, you realize. There’s something akin to disgust and impatience in his gaze that makes you freeze despite all your sharp words earlier.
“How irrational could you be? You reject everyone’s help even though you need it and you don’t listen to anybody’s suggestions. You’re too caught up in the conception that you’re always right and everyone else is always wrong. You’re childish, (Name), that’s what you are. You’re like a child still naive and ignorant, content with playing with their toys and games and ignoring reality. You’re not cut out for the Akademiya. You never were.”
He laughs and now you realize just how much it hurts when it’s directed toward you.
“And you’re telling me that my ego is overinflated. No wonder you’re failing everything. Archons, (Name), you’re utterly hopeless. What did I ever see in you?”
The silence that fills the space afterward is enough to make Alhaitham immediately regret his words. You angrily glare at him and Alhaitham’s heart sinks when he recognizes the emotion present in your eyes.
Utter hate.
“... For all these years, I've heard so many rumors about you but chose to brush them off,” you begin. “I was so stupid! I should have listened to them! They say you’re cold and heartless and only now do I realize that they were right. They say you’re not human from how cruel you are- archons, dammit! Look at me!”
The sudden demand makes Alhaitham nervously glance toward you after avoiding your gaze this entire time. You sniff and wipe away the few tears that managed to spill over. Losing your composure in front of him, the perfect and poised genius, was already humiliating enough, but you hold his gaze long enough to let him see. Let him witness the results of his own actions and the prospect of losing someone he cared about (all over again).
“You’re an absolutely horrible person, Alhaitham. I hope you remember this.”
Alhaitham. It’s the first time you’ve used his full name ever since you befriended him and the implications of it sting.
He reaches out toward you. “Wait-”
You slap his hand away.
“No, we’re done here. I thought you could at least understand, but you’re just as uncaring and self-centered as everyone else here. And I once thought that you were better than anyone else here, but only now do I realize how stupid I was."
You laugh sardonically one last time.
“My parents were right. They would have been so much happier if you were their child.”
Alhaitham doesn’t see you again for several weeks after that. It’s as if you’re purposefully avoiding him and it gets to a point where he’s beginning to get concerned about your health and safety.
Currently, he’s meeting with Tighnari. Out of everyone, the fox hybrid had the highest chance of knowing with his keen sense of hearing.
“I’m concerned about (Name).”
Tighnari’s ears twitch in response.
“They aren’t the same person anymore. You’ve seen it too.”
The fox hybrid sadly nods. “They’ve been consumed by rage and self-hate. I see it in their eyes and the way they lash out. They’re angry at themselves and at everyone around them and it’s completely understandable considering the situation and the response of those they trusted most. Still, it’s not healthy if they continue like this. Speaking of which, were they always this temperamental?”
Alhaitham shakes his head. “No. To be clear, they’ve always had a sharp tongue but it was always lighthearted. They only started getting truly angry this year.”
“Lashing out or displaying signs of anger is often a common symptom of burnout. I’m fairly confident that’s what (Name) has. Specifically, academic burnout. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Tighnari’s eyes narrow. “Look, (Name) is a great friend to me as well, but why are you telling me about this? You’re in their Darshan so shouldn’t you know more?”
“I haven’t heard anything about them either. I got concerned after they didn’t show up at the library for a week. From what I’ve heard, they haven’t been showing up to class either for the past few weeks, which is strange for them. I’m asking around- maybe I’ll find something out that way.”
Tighnari shakes his head. “Sadly, I don’t know why either. If it helps, some people have said they haven’t even seen them. Not just at the library or at class but in general. It’s almost as if they’ve just… disappeared.”
There’s a moment of silence that passes between them. Tighnari stares at Alhaitham curiously and he rests his chin on his hands.
Alhaitham doesn’t have a good feeling about this…
“Speaking of which, does the fight from earlier have anything to do with this?”
“You knew?”
“Please. When two of my closest friends get into an argument as big as that, I’m bound to find out eventually. So, did it have anything to do with this?”
“... Yes,” he admits. “I feel guilty and I want to apologize to them.”
“Well, better late than never,” grumbles Tighnari under his breath. The stink eye he sends his way doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham.
“Why do you care for them so much?”
The question comes out of nowhere and leaves him reeling.
“I suppose it’s… because I consider them a friend?”
Archons, that answer sounds even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head and Tighnari knows it.
Tighnari heaves a long sigh that makes Alhaitham pause.
“You absolute lummox!” he snaps. “I always knew you were somewhat emotionally constipated but I didn’t think you’d be this dense…”
He suddenly stands up and stares the ashen-haired male in the eye, his tone softer this time.
“You’re in love with them, Alhaitham. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately.”
Alhaitham immediately scoffs. “No, that can’t possibly be-”
“You, who hates sharing what you consider yours, share your notes with them.”
“It’s a win-win situation for both of us. We’re in the same Darshan and we’ll be able to learn better from each other.”
“But them, specifically, when there are countless others that would kill for the chance to learn from you?”
“They can figure the material out themselves. Plus, I stand to gain no benefit from what they have to offer.”
“What, so only (Name) can keep up with you?”
“Precisely.”
Tighnari sees the opening Alhaitham has created and takes advantage of it.
“Are you sure that you’re still rivals? Even though (Name) is…”
“Of course. It’s been like that since day one.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. Because from what I know, academic rivals don’t go out to lunch together. They don’t go stargazing even though a certain someone finds it mind-numbingly boring. They don’t sneak out past curfew and break Akademiya rules on a daily basis, and they certainly don’t spend hefty chunks of Mora to make the other happy.”
Tighnari has Alhaitham backed into a corner and he knows it.
“Kaveh knows as well.”
“And?”
“And you still let yourself get roped into his schemes to make them happy. Look, I know this isn’t a good time to bring him up considering…”
He gestures at the empty space, a silent indication of Kaveh and Alhaitham’s broken friendship.
“But there’s no denying that Kaveh did and still does care about you. Why else would he be willing to put in so much time and effort to make them happy? Because in addition to being their friend, he knows that when they’re happy, you are as well. And if that doesn’t mean something, then, I don’t know what else does.”
“We’re just friends,” he argues once again. Tighnari glares at him.
“You’re an idiot to think it doesn’t go deeper than that. You also saw them off every single time during the summer.”
“That’s what friends do. Besides, their parents should have-”
“Uh-huh. Go on, keep lying to yourself like that. Do I have to hit you over the head with a brick in order for you to realize your own feelings? You’re sounding like a broken record here.”
“I-”
“There’s no use in denying or lying to us, Alhaitham. We’re your friends, after all. But the one who’s going to have to decide what to do next is you.”
He gets up and gives Alhaitham a pat on the shoulder. Before leaving, he looks at him one last time.
“It’s going to hurt even more when you lose them for good. You’ll only wish you could have done something sooner. But I think you already know that by now, right, Alhaitham?”
“Do you know where (Name) is?”
It’s a rare occasion today- Alhaitham actually showed up for class. But it wasn’t to listen to whatever the professor had to say- no, it was to ask your classmates where you went. He’s been trying every day to find you, but only to no avail.
He’s gained some valuable information, however. Your roommate moved out a while ago, leaving you the sole occupant of your dorm room. He also managed to find your dorm room number after asking some of your “friends”, who after relentless prying, reluctantly opened up.
“I can’t say for sure, but I heard they’re in the hospital. They somehow ended up there over the weekend.”
“The hospital?” he repeats. “Do you know why?”
“No idea. Sorry.”
He shows up at the Birmarstan after the class ends, fully expecting to see you. He gives the nurse his name and a few minutes later, she returns with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, but the patient is not accepting visitors at this time.”
A slight pause. Barely perceptible.
“I see.”
You look at the window to see Alhaitham’s retreating form. The nurse enters your room a few minutes later and crosses her arms.
“He’s the first person who’s asked to visit you ever since you came in. I’m surprised- I thought you’d get more. Most people usually do.”
You pull the covers over your head and roll over. Such is the way of life in the Akademiya. Friendships were formed out of convenience as a way to climb up the ladder later in life. As soon as you were no longer useful or fell from grace like you did, others were quick to abandon you without a second thought.
So why did Alhaitham visit then? To you, your relationship (as enemies? Friends? Or even…) was built solely on how you could assist each other, and nothing more. By your prior logic, there is no logical reason why he should visit you.
Unless…
“Is there any reason why you didn’t want to see him in particular?”
Even if your hypothesis proved to be true, it doesn’t excuse or undo the hurt he caused.
“He’s the last person I want to see right now.”
A few days after being discharged from Birmarstan, there’s a knock from the door that wakes you up from your sleep. Still disoriented, you look up and roll over, opting to ignore it and go back to sleep.
The knocking continues. You cover your ear with a pillow and squeeze your eyes shut even more.
“I know you’re there, (Name). Several people told me so.”
Shit, it’s the last person you want to see right now. Your mood sours instantly and now you’re fully awake.
“What do you want?” you snap.
“I just want to talk.”
It doesn’t seem like he’ll be going away anytime soon, so you get up, kicking the trash that litters the floor to the side, and carefully cracking open the door. He looks down to see you. You pull the sleeves of your shirt down as he does so.
“Can I come in?”
You look behind at the mess that is your dorm.
“... It’s not exactly clean right now.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
You flick the lights on and hide the worst of the trash underneath your bed. He follows you, his gaze traveling around the room. He notices the side with the unoccupied bed is considerably cleaner (that must have been your roommate’s before they moved out, he reasons) and your desk looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. He takes a seat at it and examines the table. Your Akasha Terminal is lying in the corner and collecting dust. Your textbook is open to a section that was taught a while ago and it looks like you just started taking notes.
(Although, the frustrated scribbles that occupy most of the page have him concerned. Additionally, certain parts of the paper are wrinkled, as if they have dried after getting wet. The shape and spot where they are concentrated in is another cause for concern as well. Were you… crying?)
You pull the covers over your form and glare at him.
“Well? What did you want to tell me?”
“I’m sorry.”
You pause, then shake your head.
“That alone won’t be enough.”
“I know. And that’s why-”
He gulps, his voice shaking toward the end. It’s just a simple apology, so why is he so nervous?
(But deep down he knows the real answer: this is his last chance to ask you for forgiveness before losing you for good. And it was the thought of losing you, the one that had managed to worm their way into his heart and appreciate him that scared him the most.)
“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I should have been more understanding of your struggles and, like you said, had some more empathy. I realize that I am far from an ideal friend in many people’s eyes and if you feel the same, I will not hold that against you.”
His chest tightens and he subconsciously looks away.
“I’m aware of how people see me- valuing logic above all with a mind fueled by equations and facts over feelings. A genius with no regard or need for others. But I’m still human. I feel regret and remorse the same way as anyone else. I know when I’ve messed up and when I need to apologize. Now is one of those times, more than ever.”
You turn around and open the blinds, letting the light flood the room before sitting back down, watching him carefully.
“I don’t want to forgive you. Do you have any idea how long your words lingered for?”
The words sting Alhaitham. Your voice shakes and you feel the familiar burning sensation in your eyes.
“But I know you. I know your bluntness and sharp tongue. You often say hurtful things but don’t mean them. You’re stubborn and slow when it comes to apologizing, even if the guilt eats away at you. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re not one to dish out praises, leading others to believe that you’re cold and unsympathetic.”
You suddenly lean in, staring into the eyes that had kept you awake at night for so long. His eyes widen slightly and you smile faintly to yourself.
“But I like to think that I’ve gotten to know you a bit. You show that you care with your actions, not your words, but that takes time- time that most people aren’t willing to give because of their first impression of you. You take the time to learn about the people you care about and prefer acts of service to words of affirmation and physical touch as your love language. You show that you care in a way of your own.
“So yes. I forgive you.”
Alhaitham finds himself sighing with relief. Yet a question still lingers in the back of his mind.
“Why?”
And there it is again, for the first time in a long time. Your smile. It’s a little stiff and awkward, as if you haven’t smiled in a long time, but it’s undoubtedly yours.
“The same reason. I missed you too.”
And now begins the uncomfortable process of recovery.
“How long were you gone for?”
“... Longer than I’d like to admit. Catching up is going to be a difficult task, isn’t it?”
“I won’t sugarcoat it; you’ve missed a lot.” Alhaitham flips through your books and notes from prior years. “However, you have a strong foundation from your earlier years. That should help you. But first, let me ask you a few questions so I can outline a study plan for you.”
You raise your eyebrows at his statement.
“You’re taking this quite seriously, aren’t you?”
“Naturally,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Knowing you, you’re not the kind of person to go out of your way for others,” you grumble. “So going to such lengths just for me…”
“You discredit me if you think that I would do that. But why do you think you felt burnt-out in the first place?”
You look out the window and think for a bit.
“... I think it’s because of my own pride. Had I asked for help earlier on, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be in this position, or things would be better, at least,” you admit.
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
You sigh and hold your hands out in defeat. “You surely know more than you’re letting on. But I think it’s also because I never learned how to study.”
Alhaitham pauses at that. “Really?”
There’s no mockery or derision in his question- just curiosity.
“People goaded me on as a gifted child and I was expected to somehow know how to do everything perfectly the first time, you know? It’s just how things were.”
“Well, that’s something we can fix for sure.”
Your first few days back are the worst. Whispers and stares follow you wherever you go and your professors, who once showered you with praises, look at you strangely or even ignore you.
“Don’t mind them,” he says when he notices you sulking in the library later that day. “You and I both know that’s just the way the Akademiya is. We’ll see who gets the last laugh.”
Much to the envy of your classmates, he also personally tutors you in all your classes. He accompanies you to all your classes (even the ones he isn’t taking) and sits in on them, whispering and writing little notes of clarification and elaboration.
Bit by bit, you see your scores slowly improve. Alhaitham teaches you an array of study techniques, many of which have been personally vetted by him.
“Try each of them out,” he says. “Different techniques work for different people. There is something out there that works for you.”
He’s able to bear witness to the fruits of your labor one day when he hears your excited footsteps running toward him.
“Haitham, look!”
You practically shove several papers into his face. “I got a perfect score on the latest exam! And guess what? I tied with you, meaning that I also placed first!”
A rare smile, solely reserved for your eyes, creeps onto his face.
“Good job. Your score is well-deserved after all the hard work you’ve been putting in.”
He sees it now. Slowly but surely, you’re regaining bits and pieces of your old self. You’ll never be exactly who you once were, but that’s ok. You’ll pick the broken yet salvageable parts up and put them together to create something new yet still distinctly you.
He only looks forward to seeing what you’ll become in the future.
You’ve finally graduated.
It’s a joyous occasion today, filled with speeches, hugs, and promises to keep in touch. Families and friends crowd outside the Akademiya to congratulate their loved ones. The diploma in your hands and the cords around your shoulders are a sign of your achievements and your persistence despite all the roadblocks you faced along the way.
Your heart feels simultaneously burdened and relieved. You had graduated squarely in the middle of the class. You knew it was something to be proud of, yet that part of your former self that you could never suppress couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
Not that it really bothered you anyway. When you walked across the stage to the smattering of applause accompanying your name, you had immediately locked eyes with Alhaitham in the crowd. He was clapping, but what caught your attention the most was the smile he sent your way. It wasn’t one of his once in a blue moon microscopic ones.
No. It was one where you could see a sliver of his teeth and where the edges of his eyes crinkled from it, the sight of which sent your heart ablaze. There was pride in his gaze and in that moment, you felt as if everything had been worth it- even if it wasn’t the outcome you expected.
And when he walked across the stage, you were the one to clap for him the loudest.
You push your way through the heavy crowds, searching for one person in particular. He’s not anywhere in the crowd, so you head down the walkway and there you see him. He’s waiting for you with a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.
“Took you long enough,” he remarks. Alhaitham holds out the flowers to you and you accept them gratefully.
“Oh, you remembered my favorite flowers!” you exclaim as you examine the bouquet. “I have something for you as well.”
You hand him an envelope and he eyes it curiously when a voice interrupts you.
“(Name).”
You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn to see your parents. They stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with their hastily-purchased bouquet of flowers that pales in comparison to what Alhaitham got you.
(You don’t even like the kind of flowers your parents got for you and you’ve told them that before…)
“Congratulations on gradu-”
“Oh, you must be Alhaitham!”
Your mother’s sudden remark takes all of you by surprise. She rushes forward and eagerly shakes his hand.
“I’ve heard so much about you! You just graduated and you’ve already made a name for yourself in Sumeru as a genius! How incredible is that? Ah, if only my child here could learn from you, but they’ve already graduated, so it’s a little too late for that now…”
You bite your lip and look away. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. He retracts his hand.
“It was nice to meet you. We’ll be taking our leave now.”
“We’ll?”
Alhaitham ignores them in favor of holding your hand and leading you away.
“I think a celebration is in order. The owner of the stall that sells your favorite Padisarah Pudding is offering us free dessert today.”
The heaviness that was hanging over you just a moment ago is now gone.
“Free desserts? I’m in!”
“Then it’s settled.”
Later that night, Alhaitham remembers the letter you gave him earlier and pulls it out. He glances at the clock. There’s still time before he has to leave and meet up with you.
Dear Alhaitham,
Thank you for being by my side throughout these four years when no one else was. I owe my entire academic career to you. Perhaps even my entire life. I don’t know if I’d be writing this letter if it weren’t for you.
When I saw you on the first day, I wondered what you were doing here. You were short, scrawny, and shy back then. I thought you were one of those child prodigies. Who knew you’d turn out to be the buff man skilled with the sword that I know today…
Honestly, I didn’t think that you would help me. You were the envy of our class, unlike me. I wouldn’t be surprised and I wouldn’t blame you if all that praise got to your head. I guess I didn’t know you well enough back then, though, because you defied all of my expectations. Not only did you not care for status or fame, you also took time out of your own day (which I know you hate doing) for me.
You really are an enigma, Haitham. You’re a person with several layers and hidden secrets like an intricately-designed mechanism. But I think that’s one of the reasons that drew me to you. Everyone has their own secrets and burdens. By slowly learning more about each other, you learn more about yourself.
You and I, we are inseparable now. Earlier today, I had someone come up to me and ask where you were. They were surprised that you weren’t next to me like always. At first glance, we seem more different than similar, especially with our contrasting personalities. But take a closer look and they’ll see that we share more in common than in differences. Opposites attract, but similarities bind.
Like those dusty old philosophers and figures that we had to learn about in class, we are parallels of each other. You are simultaneously my biggest critic and supporter. My biggest rival and confidant. My biggest headache and source of comfort.
But most importantly, you are my biggest friend.
Remember that one night where I asked you what you wished for? You had said that you wanted to keep talking to me regardless of how things turned out in the future. I didn’t really have a response at the time, but now I finally do.
My wish is selfish. I wish for you to stay the way you are. A little arrogant, blunt, curious, and caring in your own way. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it now.
With all my love,
(Name)
The house is too quiet for Alhaitham’s liking. He appreciates silence when working and Kaveh’s incessant noise from working on projects at midnight is downright irritating, but there is a time and place for everything.
Now is not that time. Thamina is sleeping on the cushion next to him. Kaveh is out in a meeting with a client (for once) and you’re-
“I’m home!”
Speak of the devil, there you are. Thamina’s eyes open and she jumps off the cushion to greet you with a loud meow and a head rub against your legs. Alhaitham takes his headphones off and sets his book down before getting up to greet you after a long journey back from Mondstadt. You’re tired, your uniform is wrinkled, and your Kamera has been hastily shoved back into its case, but Alhaitham has never been more grateful to see you.
“Missed me?”
“You’ve been gone for too long,” he grumbles before pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“Love, it was only for a month!”
“My point still stands.”
You scrunch your face up and eventually manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp. It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. Alhaitham has dutifully taken on the responsibilities of the Akademiya’s Scribe while you now work as a reporter for a newspaper company. You love the job because it puts your Haravatat degree to good use and you get paid to travel, although you don’t like the part of being away from Alhaitham for extended periods of time.
“Are you still up for dinner and dessert even though it’s getting late?”
“At my favorite place?”
“Our favorite place,” he corrects.
“Oh, you like it now as well? Did some of my tastes rub off onto you?”
“The pudding runs I went on for you did that a long time ago.”
Comets are ephemeral in nature. Some of them are only seen once and then gone, lost in time and never to be seen again. But occasionally, in a twist of fate, they can be rediscovered although it may take hundreds or even thousands of years for them to return.
That comet he had wished upon several years ago had finally returned to him.
@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai
SYNOPSIS: before kakavasha dissolves into the nihility, there is one hope he has to let go of. may you meet again in a kinder world and under a warm sun.
CHARACTERS: kakavasha, aventurine, dr ratio, aventurine's family, sunday
TAGS: angst, no comfort, established relationship, mentions of suicide, 4k+ wc
NOTES: sobbed to "had I not seen the sun" the entire time I was writing this I love making myself cry w my own work
special thanks to @akutasoda, @tragedy-of-commons, and @https-sourlimes for proofreading this! love u all <33
link to the playlist
Aventurine was mildly surprised when he received word that he would be handling the Penacony mission. Why him, of all the Ten Stonehearts? Surely someone more capable such as Opal would be trusted with a mission of this caliber.
He only realized why when he pried further into the details.
Penacony was a death trap. With so many powerful and important people gathered in one place, one wrong move on his part would spell his end.
He chuckles sardonically. Figures. They’re sending their most suicidal employee out for a suicide mission.
As if to rub the situation into his face, he finds out they’re pairing him with Dr. Ratio. What purpose is he supposed to serve, suicide prevention? Too little, too late, in his opinion.
The doctor doesn’t look too thrilled about the fact either. It makes Aventurine feel somewhat better about this whole situation.
“You’d best get your affairs settled before we leave, gambler. The odds that you make it back alive from this mission aren’t as high as you’d hope they’d be.”
“Ooh, well I do like the sound of that.”
A glare sent his way makes Aventurine roll his eyes, but he shuts up anyway. Plans are made and discussed for what role each of them will be playing before it’s time to leave.
“Well then, I look forward to working with you in Penacony, Doctor.”
“Just don’t act like a complete idiot and we’ll be fine.”
The two men head their separate ways. Ratio’s advice to settle his affairs lingers in his mind, though. That means there’s a will he has to sign, assets he has to distribute, funeral arrangements to be made, and more. Of course, most, if not all of it, will be going toward you. You’d be set for the rest of your life, never having to work a day again if you so chose.
He heaves a sigh. Ah, it’s all so tedious. It was all so much easier before you came along. He had no will to worry about. He’d toss caution to the wind every mission and wind up sorely disappointed when he returned, still alive. If he did end up dying, his assets would end up being pawned off and most likely make their way back to the IPC somehow. So what even was the point then?
With all that being said, he didn’t mind putting in all that extra work for your peace of mind and so you’d continue to benefit, even after his death.
Still, the stakes this time around are higher, and he has you to consider now before placing his bets. One wrong move and you’d be left without someone to welcome home. And then there’s the consideration of whether he’d be willing to die when the moment came. Sure, he’d attempted several times before but they’d all failed. Would he be able to take the plunge this time, should the opportunity present itself?
“Hey, Doc?”
Ratio is about to leave, but the uncharacteristic hint of hesitation in his voice makes him stop and look over his shoulder.
“... How can you tell if you’ve lived a life worth living?”
Ratio stares at the blonde in silence in disbelief over what he’s hearing. Aventurine chuckles, trying to dispel the awkwardness that’s settled in the air.
“No answer? Never mind-”
“That answer will vary from person to person. However, if you were to ask me personally…”
The doctor’s ruby eyes flit over Aventurine’s frame, narrowing in contemplation- and perhaps a hint of resignation.
“Ask yourself this question: can you die today without any regrets?”
“Can I die today without any regrets?” Doctor, what were you thinking when you posed that rhetorical question on me? Obviously the answer would be no!
Expensive leather shoes click against stone as Aventurine hurriedly makes his way through the Dreamscape. The weight of having mere hours left to live looms above his head like an anvil, leaving him scrambling to figure out how to cheat death- not for the hope of living to see another day, but so he can carry out his mission.
When confronted with death, even a suicidal man will cling to the urge to live for one reason or another.
He’s hardly paying attention to where he’s going, muttering out half-hearted apologies to those he bumps into as he stumbles through the Dreamscape before he ends up in a secluded area. The kaleidoscopic iridescence in the corners of his vision makes him stumble and he audibly groans when a searing pain flashes through his temples, the Harmony’s brand on his mind assailing him again.
Dammit… am I really at the end of the line now? And before I could do anything meaningful either…
He hears the sound of a… child humming some distance away? That’s strange, there’s no one else here.
“Mister, are you lost too?”
That voice.
He turns around slowly, as if that would change anything. Aventurine’s eyes dart across the boy standing before him, with rags for clothes and scraped knees. The child in front of him is everything he is not- or rather, what he was, but is no longer. Optimistic, with bright shining eyes. Hope still exists for him.
Those eyes. Oh, it’s himself.
Aventurine thinks he’s about to be sick.
“Woah, you have such pretty eyes! Can I call you Mr. Pretty Eyes?”
Aventurine stiffly nods.
“Sure. Call me whatever you want, kid. What’s your name?”
“It’s Kakavasha. Nice to meet you!”
And that’s the final nail in the coffin confirming his suspicions.
Kakavasha looks around nervously.
“I was searching for my family, but I got lost. This place is so much bigger than home… Mister, do you think you could help me find them?”
Aventurine shakily extends a trembling hand out.
“Of course. Lead the way. How about you hold onto my hand so you don’t get lost anymore?
Kakavasha latches onto it and begins wandering around, calling out for his parents and big sister. Every unanswered call feels like a punch to the gut but he has a faint flickering of hope that he’ll be able to see them.
“You really love your family, kid,” remarks Aventurine in an attempt to keep some conversation going.
“Of course! I do!”
Kakavasha pauses in his steps and thinks for a bit, eyes wandering skyward and free hand resting on his chin.
“… Do you have anyone you love, Mr. Pretty Eyes?”
“Yes, I do. Their name is (Name).”
The boy’s eyes light up, sparkling in curiosity.
“Woah, really? What’re they like?”
A light chuckle escapes Aventurine’s lips as he crouches down to Kakavasha’s eye level and ruffles his hair.
“They’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”
“Wow, they must be a really amazing person for you to say that…”
“They are. They're incredible.”
I don’t deserve them.
He chuckles and stands back up again, hand reaching for Kakavasha’s. The little boy continues to lead the way, until he suddenly stops and turns.
“Would you like to meet my family? They’ve been gone for so long I think they went back home. You can introduce (Name) to them as well!”
Panic wells up inside him. Seeing his family? In this state? After all he’s done? No, he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Not under these circumstances!
“Kid, I don’t think-”
“It’s ok if (Name) shows up late. They’re nice people and they’ll understand.”
“No, I-”
“Come on, let’s go! They’re already waiting for us!”
Aventurine feels himself being forcefully pulled under and he instinctively closes his eyes. A blast of hot, sandy air hits him, making him shield himself. When it settles down, he opens his eyes to a familiar sight. Sand stretches as far as the eye can see. There’s minimal vegetation and he can feel the sun beating down on his back already.
Sigonia-IV. He’s returned home.
Kakavasha eagerly tugs on his sleeve.
“This is my home! I know it’s not much, but everyone I know and love is here. I think you’ll like it too.”
Still holding onto Aventurine’s hand, Kakvasha begins running toward the horizon. Aventurine, meanwhile, feels numb all over.
There’s no way this is happening. Is this some sort of cruel prank? What did that chicken-wing boy do this time? But if this is just a cruel prank…
He looks around at the yellow sand stretching as far as the eye can see and the mountains in the distance.
… Then it’s far too realistic. How is this happening? If I filter out the memories of the massacre, then everything is the same as I remembered it.
“We’re almost there!” calls out Kakavasha. “Just a little longer now!”
Three familiar figures stand in front of a tent some distance away and Aventurine feels his heart seize up in his chest. He’s long forgotten their faces, but he instinctively recognizes them.
Mom. Dad. Big Sis.
Kakavasha lets go of his hand and sprints toward his family. He leaps into the arms of his big sister, who spins him around giddily while his mother plants kisses over his face and his father holds his tiny hands.
As he approaches, he realizes they have no faces. Where there are supposed to be eyes, a nose, and a mouth, there is nothing. A blank canvas with dents and ridges where the features are supposed to be greets him and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise up in warning.
The only exception to this is his sister, with her grinning mouth and her long blonde hair billowing in the wind- the only feature he remembers clearly about her. She takes notice of him and tilts her head curiously to the side.
“Kakavasha, did you br▇ng a f▇▇▇d of ▇urs?”
Her voice comes out scratchy and distorted with only a few syllables recognizable. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes why.
He can’t remember her voice anymore. Or the voices of his parents, for that matter. He’s forgotten what they look like, and now what they sound like. What’s been forgotten can’t be restored.
“Yeah!” exclaims Kakavasha nestled safely into his sister’s arms now. “Everybody, meet Mr. Pretty Eyes!”
They greet him with friendly waves and scratchy sounds that he thinks are supposed to be words of greeting. He almost chokes on the guilt and regret building up in his throat
“▇▇ look just like ▇▇ Kakavasha over here! ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ his long-lost b▇▇▇▇r or something?”
Aventurine forces out a laugh as the others join in.
If only they knew…
The sun is going down now, and the solar winds that blanket the planet grow harsher. They quickly usher him into the tent, telling him to make himself at home and inviting him to stay for dinner. There’s no way out as far as he can tell, so he obliges.
It’s smaller than he remembers, he thinks as he ducks to avoid hitting his head. There’s a rudimentary kitchen setup in the back that Kakavasha’s mother is tending to as she begins preparing dinner. Kakavasha hops into his sister’s lap and shakes the sand out of his hair and gets it everywhere, to which she lightly scolds him with a tug on his cheek.
He takes a seat on the fraying rug in the center and rubs a brightly-colored teal tassel between his fingers. The sand is already starting to seep into his clothes. He feels grains of it in his shoes and it pools onto his pristine white dress pants. Grains of it are nestled deep into the fur collar of his coat from the harsh solar winds outside that even vigorous shaking won’t dislodge.
Kakavasha’s sister smiles at him. It’s a bit unnerving, just seeing a smiling mouth with no other features.
“So, Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes, w▇at 's your ▇▇▇ ? At least, I’m a▇▇▇ ming Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes isn’t yo▇▇ r▇l name.”
“It’s Kaka-”
He swallows hard and kicks himself. He’s not Kakavasha. Not anymore.
“It’s… Aventurine.”
The very act of saying that name makes him feel like he’s betraying his family, stabbing them in the back.
“A▇▇▇▇▇ , huh? What an in▇▇▇ing and pretty name!” remarks his sister. He feels the air rush out his lungs and almost coughs up a sardonic laugh from the sheer irony of it all. First his family, then his language, then his body, and now even his name? Is there anything left that he can truly call his from his culture?
Thunder distantly rumbles overhead. Kakavasha and his sister peek their heads out curiously of the tent. She gasps excitedly and points to the darkening clouds overhead.
“Hear that? ▇▇ sign ▇▇ your birthday is ▇▇▇ ▇!” she exclaims as she holds Kakavasha’s hands in hers.“▇▇▇ ▇▇ excited?”
… His birthday?
Thunder rumbles overhead again and he hears the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the tent.
His birthday. The Kakava Festival.
His heart sinks into his stomach as his family chatters around him. They talk about birthday celebrations and what they’ll do that day, but it’s a muffled mess in his ears. Is it really almost his birthday already? Sigonia-IV followed many beliefs that were independent from the rest of the universe, namely the Aeon belief system, and that also extended to the calendar system. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure what day his birthday was in the Interastral Standard calendar system. He usually just flipped a coin and that was if he even bothered to celebrate, which he hadn’t done in many years.
Aventurine does some quick estimating and realizes that yes, it’s almost his birthday. But how would he celebrate his birthday in this world, where all was good and he still remembered their faces and voices?
Aventurine closes his eyes and thinks. His mother would be overjoyed to know that her beloved son finally has a lover now. She’d make him clean the tent from top to bottom in preparation for your arrival, even though the sand would find its way back inside again within a matter of a few hours. His parents would cook up a feast for your arrival while his sister would pester him to tell more stories about you- as if there were any left that he hadn’t. When the time would come and you’d nervously step through the tent flap with one hand holding his tightly and another clutching some gifts, his mother would rush forward and greet you with a kiss to the cheek, having already accepted you as family. His sister would steal you away from him to dote on you, much to his half-hearted chagrin. His father would tell corny jokes that you’d cringe at, and his mother would teach you recipes that had been passed down for generations, her warm, weathered hands resting atop yours and lovingly guiding your movements in the kitchen.
The five of you, safe, warm, and alive under the sun.
Hours after the rest of his family had gone to sleep, you’d lie side by side outside, watching the stars drift on by. Sigonia-IV is nothing like Pier Point. Free from light and industrial pollution, you’d have a stunning view of the cosmos every night. Twinkling stars shine overhead, so close you could practically pluck them out of the sky. Multicolored clouds of gas and stardust bathe the sky in their shifting hues as he tells you stories that have been passed down from generation to generation with the occasional shooting star passing by. You’d stay like that for hours on end, content to just listen and watch, until you were lulled to sleep by his voice.
It would be cold, as all desert climates are at night, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear with your warmth nestled into his side.
In the spring, or around now, he’d take you to celebrate the Kakava festival under the stars with a roaring bonfire. The festival itself would be a solemn and silent celebration with people murmuring prayers to the Mother Goddess and tossing sacrificial vessels into the fires, but the celebration of his birthday afterward would be loud and joyful. Bonfire sparks would rise up into the sky, carried by the hot solar winds and the rich sounds of his people’s songs. His mother would drape you in turquoise jewelry and gift you traditional clothes that she would’ve spent hours beforehand making by hand, every stitch a labor of love. He’d teach you to dance to the cheers of his family and the familiar tunes he’d hum under his breath. His movements would be fluid and graceful as he spins and twirls you around, while you stumble and flail along. He’d enjoy every second of it- even if you step on his feet the whole time.
He would be kinder in this world, he thinks. He’d still be Kakavasha. Aventurine would be an unknown man to him. He’d wear his heart on his sleeve and his eyes would still have life to them. He’d never have to hide his left hand.
And you’d be happier too. You wouldn’t have to sift through the layers to find the true self underneath the act he puts up. He wouldn’t be so hot and cold- practically love-bombing you one moment and then disappearing without a word for weeks the next. He wouldn’t be a dirty gambler, a two-faced businessman, a disinterested womanizer, cheating scum, an IPC mutt, a corporate bootlicker, a worthless Sigonian slut or who knows what else you’ve heard about him–
In this world, there are no Katicans. The Avigins and his family are still intact. His neck is unmarred and he speaks the Avigin dialect fluently, instead of the halting and choppy cadence that's even worse than that of a child’s. Syrupy, honeyed words spill from his mouth as he teaches you common words and phrases in his mother tongue. Have you eaten yet? How did you sleep? How was your day? I missed you. Mother. Sister. Father. Lover. Goddess. I made you something. I saw this today and thought of you. Be safe. Sweet dreams. Goodnight. I love you. He chuckles when you parrot them back to him haltingly, with your accent mixed in. The notebook you keep with various phrases, their meanings, and their phonetics grows every day. The most worn out page was the one crammed full of declarations of love that sound more akin to poetry as your mastery over the dialect grows. The ink is smeared from how often you’ve run your fingers over them, murmuring them under your breath until you’d committed them to memory. In your arms is the safest I’ll ever be. I’m lucky to call you my lover. I sleep better when I’m with you. I secretly name stars and constellations after you. I’ll kiss the weariness away from your face every night. I pray to Mama Fenge every night for your safety. I imagine her hands and embrace to be as warm as yours, and it reassures me somehow. I’ll miss your warm hands when that day finally comes. Goodnight, I love you.
We’ll be together even in Kakava’s next aurora.
Aventurine jolts forward with a start. His eyes search around frantically, instinctively searching for his family and you, only to be greeted with a familiar sight that isn’t his home. Bright flashing lights, the sound of cars honking and speeding by, muffled pop music playing in the distance, and the sugary scent of SoulGlad greet his senses instead of arid hot wind that howls in his ears and endless seas of sand. You and his family are nowhere to be seen either.
Oh. Right.
The Dreamscape.
His clothes stick to his skin drenched in a cold sweat and his glasses are resting lopsidedly on his face. His whole body is shivering uncontrollably, as if he’s been plunged into ice-cold water without warning. The world is going white before his eyes and all he can hear is the loud thump of his pulse in his ears that suddenly drops. He thinks he’s about to pass out again. This is the end, he thinks. Aventurine leans against the side of a wall again, taking deep, heaving breaths to steady himself and quell the nausea swirling around in his stomach.
When it subsides and he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of death (sadly), he sits back up and forces out a laugh in place of a sob. First forcing a religious consecration onto him, then dangling his family in front of his face? How much crueler could the head of the Oak Family get?
His heart sinks and an overwhelmingly bitter feeling engulfs him. It was just a dream all along. A dream within a dream, really. Was he really that desperate for something familiar again?
(And just like that, the mask known as Aventurine is back in place.)
(But he couldn’t even say goodbye or apologize to his family one last time, even if it wasn’t them.)
It was a pleasant dream, he’ll admit. How nice it would be to live in that world forever. But he knew it was a dream because it could never happen, as much as it pained him.
Aventurine hears the voice of Kakavasha drifting along from further up ahead and knows he’s nearing the final leg of his plan. With what little time he has left, he takes pictures with the boy for posterity and buys the child all the treats his eyes rest on for more than a second. Aventurine delights in the way his eyes light up at the first taste before he eagerly digs in for more.
It’s cathartic, in a way.
Before stepping on stage, he looks up at the sky. It’s perpetually nighttime in Clock Studios Theme Park, but he knows the sun is shining elsewhere in the Dreamscape. Is the sun shining where you are back at home? He thinks it’s morning for you. You must still be asleep with the cat cakes curled into your sides, blissfully unaware of the news you’ll wake up to.
Get onstage. Fear not. Never look back.
One last thing to do.
He sends a final text to you.
Aventurine: I love you.
It stays on delivered when he puts his phone away. It’ll be the first thing you see when you wake up, and that’s more than enough for him.
It’s time for the curtain call.
The feeling of Kakavasha’s tiny body in his arms won’t be enough to chase away the grief. Nothing ever will be. But this’ll be the closest he can get.
Aventurine hugs the boy close, squeezing as hard as he can without hurting him. He feels how he’s nothing more than skin and bone beneath the oversized rags. No child should have to be this thin, he thinks, and he’s even more glad he treated Kakavasha to his heart’s content earlier.
This is the end. He gives Kakavasha one last squeeze to imprint this memory into his mind and gets up, waving goodbye over his shoulder all the while.
He never looks back.
In a shower of light, Kakavasha dissolves into the Nihility, and with him, Aventurine’s hopes for the ideal future- the one that you deserved. The Horizon of Existence is finally devoid of all color save for himself and the dark sun beckoning him forward toward the event horizon.
He takes a step forward, and then another. The sound of his footsteps against the surface and liquid splashing echo loudly in the empty space.
The Nihility is beginning to slowly engulf him. He feels it encroaching at the edges of his mind, eating away at his thoughts one by one until nothing remains. A hollow, empty feeling settles into his heart that weighs him down. Aventurine looks down at his hands and realizes the color is beginning to seep from his vision until he, too, would become one with the Nihility. The point of no return beckons to him like a moth to a flame. Nothingness, emptiness, worthlessness. There’s nothing left for him to do.
“Can you die today without any regrets?”
Aventurine finally has an answer to that question. The past is gone and he’s walking toward no future.
Yes. I finally can.
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