Work Text:
Considering the way she had grown up, Shank never anticipated setting foot in a place so unashamedly ostentatious. She walked through the tall doors, gaudy with their three foot long golden handles, and shoved her hands right back into her pockets. She was known to be accused of stealing even when she was leaving the checkout line. The last thing that she needed was to start off on the wrong foot, regardless of how pretentious she thought this building was.
She took in the stark white walls, scattered candles and hanging plants, deciding that she had definitely walked into a three dimensional instagram influencer picture. On the way to the receptionist’s desk, she passed abstract painting after abstract painting, and wondered who they were bought from.
Finally making her way up to the desk, she greeted a man with navy blue dyed hair, styled immaculately into a quiff. His black rimmed glasses were low on his nose, and his wide eyes flickered up to meet her gaze with a nervous smile.
“Good afternoon, how can I help you today?” His voice somehow matched the soft ambiance of the room. She propped her elbow up onto the counter to cup her cheek in her hand.
“Yeah, uh, I’m here to see Yesmine?” She hated to sound so unsure, but she had only ever spoken to or heard of the woman through the internet, and she would hate to butcher her name.
“Mmhm, she isn’t accepting visitors right now. May I take a message?” His voice was apologetic, shoulders drawing themselves up around his neck while his brows furrowed just slightly upward in the center as he appraised her reaction. She tried not to grin at the way he shrunk beneath her gaze.
“I have an appointment, actually,” she said, leaning her other elbow up on the counter and fixing him with an exasperated stare. She had already been running late. The last thing that she needed was for her biggest opportunity to go to waste because of a hold-up at the front desk. Her family had taught her about punctuality, at least, if they had taught her anything at all.
“Oh? My apologies. Name please?” He sat up straighter in his chair, fingers perched at the edge of his sleek laptop’s keyboard and ready to type at a second’s notice.
“Ah, Shank? Shank Caedis?”
“Can you spell—“
“C-A-E-D-I-S,” she rattled off out of habit. She had grown used to elaborating, sympathizing with Yesmine at least a bit on the struggles that came with the uncommonness of a name.
“Yes, here you are. Sorry about the confusion, please, go right in.”
Shank nodded at him once with a pursed-lipped smile, pushing off of the counter and dragging her feet once she realized what she was about to do. This was a massive step in her online career, and she had never met this woman in person before now. What if she saw her and turned her away? What if she decided that she couldn’t work with a street rat? Her spiraling thoughts halted themselves immediately after she took a long, deep breath. Yesmine had contacted her first for a reason. She saw potential in what they could do together— everything would be fine.
With a huff, and a brief mental command to get over herself, she pulled the metal handle back toward her body and opened the door to a room visually warmer than she would have ever expected with the scenery outside.
Two of the walls were painted white, but the dim maroon lighting gave the impression of dark pink. The other two were actually maroon, balancing would’ve been the starkness of all white and allowing for a calming tone instead. Framed award after award hung up on the walls, and hanging plants decorated each corner of the room. Two leather, white couches were off in an L shape to one corner, the dark wooden coffee table between them covered with one lit candle, a mini succulent, and several magazines.
At the furthest wall in the center was a modern styled dark wooden desk with one woman sat atop the surface. Yesmine made Shank pause in her tracks. Dark blue, curly hair piled into a bun atop her head, and her brown skin seemed to emphasize itself in the maroon lighting. She stood up from where she was perched and adjusted her blue and purple fur coat around her shoulders, revealing herself to be several inches taller than Shank in heels.
She tried not to stare at the exposed skin between Yesmine’s mock-neck crop top and her high-waisted dress pants, and was only mostly successful.
When the taller woman held her hand out to Shank, her smile was bright enough to blind.
Shank wiped her hand on her thigh before taking it.
“Shank! My superstar, my talent , it is so good to finally meet you in person!”
Shank grasped her hand slowly, blinking several times as if coming out of a daze. She was being whisked into the whirlwind of Yesmine’s presence, and every person who had ever described it to Shank secondhand was absolutely right about its intoxicating effect. She began to feel guilty about calling her pretentious in her head, but remembered that there was still time for that assumption to be proved right.
Yesmine’s perfume was something sweet, but not saccharine. Just a hint enough that Shank wanted to get closer to it. She stepped forward, bringing herself nearer to the taller woman without a second thought.
“Yesmine… it’s great to meet you—“
“Please, call me Yes,” her lips turned upward into a lopsided smile, “like your fans will say when anyone asks if they love you,” she winked. She pulled her hand away and glided back behind her desk with every ounce of Shank’s attention.
Shank felt her stomach flutter as she watched the other woman, searching her brain for anything to say and drawing blank after blank. Yes fried her thoughts, overwhelming them with nothing but the smell of her perfume and just how goddamn pretty she was.
Yes rested both of her ringed hands flat on the table in anticipation, her hanging necklace dangling between the modest swell of her chest, and her luxury watch catching the the light despite the dimness of the room.
“ So… ” Yes began with growing excitement, “You’re hot right now, baby! How does it feel? What do you wanna do with all this ‘clout,’ as they call it?” Her brown eyes were wide with glee, flickering back and forth between Shank’s.
Neck warming under the attention, Shank opened her mouth only for nothing to come out. She didn’t know how she felt about her growing fanbase, it still felt surreal for the most part. She felt like everyone said that answer in interviews, and she didn’t want Yes to think her to be so utterly unoriginal.
“It feels, nice, I guess. All of the attention. The comments are kind of—”
“Let me stop you right there, babygirl, comments are off limits from now on. I don’t need you all sad and distressed because some troll accounts attack your weight, or call you a few slurs. We only do positivity in this office, so promise me right now that you’ll avoid the comment sections.”
Shank blinked twice at the quickness with which Yes had grown serious, and nodded several times in genuine agreement, “Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”
“Perfect, okay, continue!” Yes encouraged, her bright smile returning once more as she gestured with her other hand for Shank to keep talking.
“Oh, uh, I was saying that it’s cool to have built a community, I guess. I’ve made a lot of long-time friends through BuzzTube,” Shank admitted fondly, “but as for what I want to do with all of it? I was kind of hoping… that as my manager, you know, you’d give me some guidance.”
Yes drew her hands together, steepling them beneath her dainty jawline. Her immaculately styled eyebrows scrunched down a bit above her nose, and it was only short moments of her mind ticking and turning before she spoke again.
“Alright, how about first… we expand the range of your videos. We’ll still get your racing, but put it on a bi-weekly schedule. In between, we’ll sprinkle in some Q&A’s and interviews. I’ll schedule some collaborations with similar channels. I want you hyper-saturating the internet,” Yes was steadily enlivened, “I want foot traffic on your channel, I want people asking who is that girl . I want to get your audience, old but mostly new, more acquainted with who you are.”
Shank tried to follow along each course of action listed, and nodded along to it all despite needing to see a visual chart of all of the things they would be accomplishing if she was going to understand a word of it.
“That sound any good to you?” Yes asked.
Blinking out of her overwhelmed stupor, Shank nodded jerkily, “Yeah, that, uh, sounds… perfect.”
“Excellent, I love it! But first… I’m gonna need to rebrand you, honeybun,” Yes added casually, one hand propped on her hip while the other floated at her side, twirling with every other word. This time her finger dragged laterally through the air, gesturing to Shank’s wardrobe.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with my brand?” She asked, drawing her arms up to cross over her chest, one leg sticking out as she cocked her hip to the side.
“You’re hot, don’t get me wrong. But you’re hot for your audience now . If you wanna get that subscriber count up, you’re going to need a few… tweaks.” Yes tilted her head to the side, her gaze drinking in what seemed to be every detail of Shank’s appearance and picking it apart, reorganizing it in her head and then piecing back together the things that she wanted to keep.
“Like what?” Shank could tell that she sounded offended, and she hated how easy it was for this stranger to get to her.
“Just trust me, sweetheart. I’ll make every single change worth your while.”
Shank was hesitant and, frankly, a little hurt, sure. But there was something about Yes that spoke to her in a way that could make her follow that woman into a crumbling building if she asked her to. She wanted to say that it was the price to pay for being a sucker for a pretty face and curvy body, but she knew that wasn’t it. She knew of Yes’ reputation for churning out internet celebrities like it was second nature to her.
Her gut told her to trust this woman, and damn it, she was going to.
Three months into their time together, and Shank’s fanbase on BuzzTube had skyrocketed from three-thousand to fifty-thousand subscribers. Throughout the endless whirlwind of wardrobe changes, makeup artists, and crew after crew who helped cultivate her brand in more ways than she could count— Yes was the only constant. Her confident voice was always in Shank’s ear, enthusiastic, supportive, and unknowingly flirtatious in a dangerous way.
It was hard not to develop feelings for her, Shank had reasoned with herself at some point during all of the welcomed chaos of her new life. She would like to see anyone try to avoid it, were they in her shoes.
Sometimes, for amusement, she liked to think back to their first weeks together. Yes had taken it upon herself to improve the way that Shank dressed, yes, but also the way she carried herself. Yes had explained that she needed more “sauce.” Shank learned immediately thereafter that sauce was just another, more updated, word for swagger . She tried not to be angry at the way Yes laughed at her confused expression during the entire exchange.
There were long, frustrating hours of Yes correcting her every ‘Um,’ ‘Like,’ and ‘Ah’ interspersed throughout her sentences. Nearly everything Shank had ever done, and had never had to think twice about before meeting this whirlwind of a woman, was being altered and corrected. The sad thing was that she couldn’t even bring herself to miss a majority of the things that had slowly been taught out of her.
Those earlier days had caused some tension between the two of them, mostly because while Shank wanted to trust Yes, she was still inexplicably stubborn, and Yes was low on patience. Eventually, though, when they would wind down for the day, Yes would begin inviting her to stay later in her office for drinks. She was a bit more fond of martinis, but upon learning that Shank had a soft spot for beer, it had suddenly become available in the media mogul’s mini fridge.
Something that Shank still thought of often was how many friends Yes had. They were all far more famous, far more interesting, and far more cultured than Shank believed she would ever be— and she knew because she had met them— and yet Yes chose to spend far more time than she needed to with her. It was sweet, she decided, and it also made her heart do something that she didn’t yet know how to control.
She remembered one night in particular, a month and a few weeks into their time together, when they were each on their third drink of the night. Yes had asked, “What made you start racing like this? Your stunts are beyond dangerous, wasn’t anyone in your life worried that you’d get hurt?”
Her brown eyes were wide and searching, one slender hand grasping her martini glass with a lemon peel draped over the edge. Her office smelled of her perfume in the best way, and despite the low alcohol content in Shank's beer, she still felt an extra urge to get closer to the source.
“I kind of grew up on the streets. My parents weren’t really… Well, let’s just say that my friends who watched out for me became my family. All we really had for ourselves were old, shitty cars that we fixed up together for fun, and then driving them all over the country to just leave all of that other stuff behind us was…” Shank shrugged her shoulders, wiping the condensation from her bottle off on her jeans and dropping her gaze down to her lap, “natural. It sort of took off on its own from there.”
When she looked back up, Yes was watching her with an expression that made Shank’s heart race. She felt picked apart and put back together, analyzed and broken down into probabilities and numbers. It was just the way Yes’ mind worked, and it was how she had gotten so successful in the first place. It was only so disarming because no one had ever looked at Shank so closely.
After a long moment, one that stretched enough to make Shank a bit anxious, she broke the silence.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Why do they call you Shank?” Yes asked immediately after, not answering her question. Shank laughed a bit at the unexpected question, leaning back into the white leather couch and propping her ankle up over her knee as she tilted her head toward Yes and chuckled.
“It took you almost two months to ask me that?”
Yes giggled a bit herself, quietly, before kicking off her heels and shifting her body until her legs were folded beneath her on the cushion.
“I get enough questions about my own name, I like to be polite and wait until I at least know a person.”
Shank raised an eyebrow, her lips pulling upward at the corner, “You think you know me?”
“Don’t act all tough with me,” Yes laughed more heartily this time, “Remember that I knew you back when you mumbled all of your words and had the sex appeal of a nineteen-year-old skater boy.”
Shank’s brows shot to her hairline, a laugh of disbelief tearing from her chest as she reached out and shoved Yes’ shoulder without a second thought.
“Hey, I had sex appeal!” Her had dropped down between them, and she dug her blunt nails into the cushion as she leaned forward a bit to emphasize her indignation.
Yes looked at her knowingly, her dangling earrings sparkling even in the dimness of the room with every movement she made. Her full lips pulled back, slowly revealing a hint of white teeth, the softest smile somehow feeling like an invitation.
“You do now . Where do you think you got it from?” She winked before pulling back from where they had both begun leaning closer together, “Now, Shank, where’d you get the name?”
Defeated, amused, and a little bit turned on, Shank found herself responding, “It’s less cool than you think.”
Yes grinned, leaning forward on her tucked legs to prop her elbow on her bent knee. Her other hand idly twirled the martini glass, and Shank found her gaze drawn and held by the subtle movement.
“So, my friends who I grew up with? I literally grew up with them. They’ve known me since I could walk… and consequently, they’ve known me since I was a toddler and… couldn’t pronounce ‘shark’.”
Yes’ eyes widened slowly, and she leaned back until she was sitting straight up, a smile of pure amusement that was sure to break down into laughter at any second tugging at her mouth.
“I was obsessed with sharks, but I couldn’t pronounce the word, so I called them shanks, okay?”
A guffaw broke from the other woman, who was so tickled by this revelation that her free hand fell upon Shank’s knee for support as she bent forward and continued her mirth.
Shank wanted to be angry at being laughed at, but Yes’ hand on her leg made her entire body liquid.
“That… is so cute !” Yes exclaimed as her laughter died down, and Shank rolled her eyes with no true annoyance behind the action.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re entertained. They thought the intimidating name with the really stupid backstory was ironic enough to keep, and it stuck.” She shrugged her shoulders, eyes continuing to travel back to the hand on her knee that had yet to relocate.
“It’s not stupid. I think it’s sweet,” Yes said sincerely, almost all traces of mirth gone from her tone and her face save for a gentle smile.
The silence between the two of them rebuilt itself quickly, and all of Shank’s attention was focused on the spot where Yes’ hand rested. She scooted closer, just a bit, but enough for it to be an obvious move. The dimmed lighting did nothing for the intimate mood that had settled over the two of them like a warm fog. The candle from the coffee table flickered slowly, throwing light across both of their faces. It hit Yes’ cheeks like something out of a romance film, casting her in both shadow and gentle illumination.
Shank’s hand felt hot even around the chill of her beer bottle.
After the long stretch of time that was probably not long at all, Yes leaned over and placed her nearly empty martini glass down on the table beside the succulent plant before returning to her previous position.
“Um, do you wanna talk marketing strategy for your stunt series?” Yes asked suddenly, voice quiet and uncertain— something far too unusual to ignore.
“You said ‘um’,” Shank pointed out just as quietly, a small smile breaking the tension just a bit.
“Yes, well, I’m allowed. This is my office, and you’re… distracting me.”
The simple admission made Shank take another leap, draining the last few sips of beer in her bottle before reaching over to sit it beside Yes’ glass. Once both of her hands were free, she set the foot of her crossed leg fall back onto the ground and grasped Yes’ hand in one of her own, tangling their fingers together shamelessly.
“You know we shouldn’t do this,” Yes sighed. She turned her head away, pursing her lips as if she was holding herself back as well as pushing Shank away. Her hand never let go of Shank’s fingers, though, and so she decided to try again. She rubbed her thumb up and down the back of the other woman’s hand, admiring how she would have never dreamt of being this bold a couple of months ago.
“But you want to?” Shank asked, tilting her head a bit to try and meet Yes’ elusive gaze. When she finally met her eyes, they were clouded with indecision. For someone who was always so naturally self-assured, this was a side of her that Shank was seeing for the first time.
“Of course I do,” Yes chuckled forlornly, turning one corner of her lips up into a regretful smile.
“I think you should do what your gut is telling you to do,” Shank responded softly, flicking her eyes between both of Yes’ and absently chewing on her bottom lip as she waited for her to make a choice.
Yes’ eyes trailed to her mouth, and Shank practically watched the resolve not to move forward with whatever this was, crumble. After visibly giving up her internal battle, Yes leaned forward with enough time to give Shank a chance to back away if she wanted.
The two of them were suspended in that moment of precipice, not yet altering their worlds forever, but far too close to go back and regret not seeing the other side.
Instead of pulling away, Shank leaned forward and captured Yes’ lips with her own, melting into what she had been aching for in her bones for over a month. She felt Yes’ hands rise to gently cup her jaw, kissing her slowly and with such care that it left her breathless.
She had always wondered what kind of kisser Yes would be. Would she be like the girls Shank had kissed when she was still a teenager, eager and sloppy? Would she be like Shank’s last girlfriend, domineering and rough?
Yes was none of those things. She was welcoming like a warm embrace. Her lips were like what it felt to stay awhile, to take her shoes off at the door, to enter into something with open arms and root herself into the ground. She didn’t feel like she was floating away in this kiss, or like everything around her was exploding with fireworks. She felt dipped in light when the light was dimmed, like someone had finally turned the volume down.
When they pulled away from each other, Shank’s hand was cupping the back of Yes’ neck. Their foreheads were pressed together, and their breaths intermingled disjointedly. Yes’ eyes were last to open, and when they did, Shank leaned in and kissed her again. Just once.
“I don’t want this to be the last time we do that,” Yes whispered, one breath away from Shank’s lips.
“Then don’t let it be.”