#It’s like I shut down and only necessary functions are performed

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

”You can tell us. We’re your parents. You can tell us even if it’s bad. We’ll listen. We love you. We’re adults so we need to talk like adults.”

aha ahahaha how about no? If you find out I’m an apostate I know you’re gonna raid my room and destroy my belongings; and even if what you say IS true, I still don’t trust you from the last time you said those things lmfao

My stuff isn’t out of the house so I’m not gonna fucking tell you lmao

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #13

Prompt #13: Stars

All working trains need their maintenance to function. It's essential. Emmet knows this, but between making sure Ingo is thriving and between maintaining his own public appearances, Emmet has completely (and intentionally) ignored his safety checks. For months. Drayden is not pleased. Neither is Ingo. Both hatch a little plan of sorts to begin the necessary maintenance needed.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Boots clambered over stones. Headlights shone in the dark, twin beams focusing on a massive lump of electromagnetic crystals growing out of the cavern floor. 

“I believe we should be in the main chamber.” Emmet carefully stepped into the ankle-high water, watching his reflection waver as he started toward the crystal growth. 

Behind him, Drayden coughed, ducking his head to avoid a lagging stalagmite as he earnestly followed after his nephew. “Slow down. You don’t know what’s under the water.”

Water sloshed around Emmet’s boots, the sparse light sending pale reflections onto his caving equipment. He was careful to scan the clear water around him, making sure that he didn’t accidentally disrupt any colonies of Tynamo swimming around in the water. “I am Emmet. I know this cave like I know the controls on the inside of an R46.” Emmet passed one of the growing crystals, waiting diligently for his uncle to catch up and place his hand on his shoulder. “I have known this place since I was a kid.”

“Don’t remind me of how old you are,” Drayden huffed. His hand remained steadily on Emmet’s shoulder, carefully following along as the younger led him quickly through winding stone corridors where Boldore shuffled along, their topaz and citrine gemstones glittering in the lights of the two men’s headlamps. “Are we nearly at our destination?”

“Almost.” Emmet reconsidered the cave and briefly shut his eyes, figuring out his exact location within the narrow confines of Chargestone Cave. His uncle had specifically asked him to escort him to a point deep in the depths of the cave. Drayden had mentioned that a buddy of his had been wandering through the cave some time ago and had accidentally dropped his things in a pit, Drayden offering to go and retrieve it for him. And by that, Drayden meant that he would drag Emmet with him.

That was exactly how Emmet had found himself being excused from work for three whole days on a whim against his will. The days had been given to him using Ingo’s signature. Ingo, who had already made plans to cover his shifts. Ingo, who was only just getting used to being an administrative boss again. Inwardly, Emmet grumbled to himself. I am going to be very behind on paperwork. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. Ingo has to perform alone. Not good. And I don’t believe I asked Ramses or Cloud to cover for me while I’m away. 

All Emmet wanted to do was finish up with this retrieval mission and hurry back to the station to ensure that Ingo was performing safely. Not that he didn’t trust his brother. That wasn’t the issue. It was the concept of Ingo being alone at the station, the very same basic circumstances that had led to Ingo disappearing all that time ago. Was it unreasonable? Slightly. But the faster he found the items, the faster he could return back to his brother.

Just before Emmet, Eelektross floated leisurely at the forefront, their bioluminescent scales flashing as they swiveled their head this way and that way, excitedly recalling certain geologic structures and splashing through shallow puddles. Galvantula was right behind them, chittering incessantly as it poked its legs into tiny holes, finding entertainment in putting drops of water in the fuzz on top of their head, the wild Joltiks copying them step-for-step.

Emmet found himself smiling tiredly at their antics. It has been such a long time since I aligned tracks with my two pokémon in this manner. He watched as Eelektross playfully splashed Galvantula with water, zipping away into the dark cavern as Galvantula tore after him with a loud squeal. It’s nice. To return back to where my journey began. To see Eelektross and Galvantula so happy and carefree. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten them out of the routine. It’s nice that they’re enjoying themselves.

Emmet stilled when he spotted an unnatural light illuminating an upcoming cavern. He reconjured the mental image of the cave map, frowning. We are deep underground. The electromagnetic crystals glow but they are not supposed to produce such a high level of illumination.  He held up his hand to signal Drayden to stop. “Caution is needed,” he warned quietly. “Something is not right here.”

“Such as?” Drayden peered past him, having not brought any of his own pokémon along. “Do you have an idea of what could be making the cave ahead glow?”

“No. I have not a clue.” Eelektross and Galvantula had both already entered the glowing cave and Emmet couldn’t hear a single noise from either of them. Concertedly, he called out for both of them, anxiety twisting in his gut when he didn’t hear a response. Water splashed around his shoes, the cave floor dipping lower until the water came up to Emmet’s knees. “Uncle. Did you set up the rope behind us for an easy return shuttle back to the third floor?”

“Of course I did. This isn’t my first time exploring.”

“Just checking.” Emmet proceeded further into the icy water, sucking in a breath when the water rose up to his thighs. “I am… unsure where we are,” Emmet admitted. “This cave is supposed to be dry; not wet. There shouldn’t be any risk of flooding. None that I know of at the very least.”

Drayden was quiet for a moment. “I think we should keep going. See what’s making all that light. See where your pokémon went off to, most importantly.” Drayden then set a calming hand on Emmet’s back, steering him forward. “Don’t worry too much about your pokémon, nephew. You trained them well. I’m sure they’re just running amok bothering the locals.”

Emmet clicked his tongue, playfully shoving the man. “My pokémon are well behaved.”

“Your Archeops is banned within the Mistralton air space. I’m considering banning it from the Opelucid air space as well.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could,” Drayden muttered, stroking his beard.

Emmet only shook his head and stepped into the glowing cave. He then gasped, turning off his headlight.

Chargestone Cave was seldom ever bright but as Emmet stepped through the receding waters, he walked right into a blinding beam of moonlight, the waters around him crystal clear to the point where Emmet could see the bottom of the massive pool. Electromagnetic stones floated over the water in loose rings, schools of Tynamo swimming and diving and zipping along the trails of stones in one dazzling array of intricate scale flashing and tail flapping. Joltiks swarmed the walls, their webs glittering in the light of the moon making patternless constellations of thread and pebbles and water droplets.The call of an Unpheasant could be heard clearly like the peal of a bell, ricocheting around the cavern and settling deep into Emmet’s bones.

Emmet angled his head upward, catching sight of the night sky far overhead and with it, a dizzying amount of stars around a full moon. “This… what… moonlight?”

Drayden moved past him, settling himself on a boulder. He chuckled upon seeing Emmet’s reaction and in the blink of an eye, had taken a picture using his Xtransceiver. And when Emmet still couldn’t find words to ask what exactly was going on, Drayden motioned toward the spot on the stone right beside him. The moment Emmet clambered over, Drayden reached over and ruffled his hair. 

“You know… I was lying. My friend never visited this cave. There’s nothing to retrieve here.”

Emmet started forward. “You? Lying? To me?” He was too transfixed on the natural beauty of Chargestone Cave to be annoyed, his eyes adjusting to the silver light that bathed the cavern and most importantly, the fact that his pokémon had seamlessly blended in with the wild pokémon the whole time. But then, after revelling in the change, Emmet’s irritation at having his entire schedule upheaved caught up with him. His eyes narrowed and he scowled. “Why? Why did you bring me here then? I have a lot to do back at the station and at home.”

Drayden met Emmet's questioning gaze, reaching into his own pack to take out… a sandwich. “Had to come up with some excuse or another to get you on your own, nephew. I know you like this place, so I figured I would make up some tall tale to get you to come with me.”

“I understand that, but why lie to me? You could have just… asked me… to come here with you. Instead of completely ruining my schedule for this week. Now I’m going to be behind in work.” Emmet then blinked, his irritation being replaced by worry as he climbed off of the rock, glancing down the way the two men had came. “I will prepare the tracks to depart immediately- “

Drayden stopped him in his tracks by reaching out and grabbing the back of Emmet’s waders, easily holding him in place. “You’re not going anywhere. We only just got here.”

“I have responsibilities, uncle,” Emmet retorted. “I have to get back to them immediately.”

“Sit back down, Emmet. Your brother is handling them as we speak.”

“Ingo?” Emmet burst out, the idea making him even angrier. “Ingo is only supposed to be working on administrative duties. He is not authorized to make any repairs to the station’s engines in my stead- “

“But he is authorized to have your team of mechanics work on them while you’re away. Sit back down.” And when Emmet angrily relented- he couldn’t just abandon his passenger as much as he wanted to- Drayden reached into his pack again and pulled out another sandwich, handing it to Emmet. “It was all a ruse. I just wanted to spend time with you, nephew. It’s rare that I ever have time to visit you boys between my responsibilities as the mayor of Opelucid and of course, a part-time Gym Leader. But I figured- working with Ingo- that I could arrange for us to go on a trip.”

“...You wanted… to spend time… with me?” Emmet asked weakly as if the concept was almost foreign to him. Nobody ever really invited him to places or outings just by himself. It was always both him and Ingo. Paired together. Inseparable. And the idea that Drayden had specifically requested time to drag Emmet away- solely Emmet- befuddled him. “Why? Why not Ingo as well?”

Drayden held no humor in his tone, his eyebrows furrowing at the weakness in Emmet’s voice. “You’re my nephew. I want to spend time with you and only you right now. And you’re spending too much time gravitating around your brother. I’m beginning to think that you’re overvaluing him over yourself.”

Hearing Drayden’s words stung him like accidentally touching a live wire, causing Emmet to recoil. “I’m not… doing that. What gave you that idea?”

“You look terrible, nephew. You’ve got bags under your eyes, your hair’s a mess, and from what Ingo tells me, you hardly sleep or eat. Your brother may be missing a few memories but he’s still as sharp as he used to be. We all clued into it: that you need some time away to focus on yourself.” Drayden shuffled on the stone, handing Emmet another sandwich. “You’ve been running nonstop ever since Ingo returned. He’s had his time for maintenance. Now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t need maintenance. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. If you were fine, I wouldn’t have had to work with Ingo behind your back to get you here. Every other time I’ve asked to borrow some of your time for a chat or get you to come somewhere with me alone, you’ve always come up with some kind of excuse to keep an eye on your brother or bring him along. But now that you’re here, the only thing you can focus on is getting back home. And here I thought you’d be excited. The moonlight only ever reaches this deep into Chargestone Cave on the winter solstice.”

“...Oh.” Emmet didn’t quite meet Drayden’s eyes, fiddling with his hands in his lap. It still didn’t quite make sense to him. Emmet didn’t really believe that he had much to offer alone. He was the quiet twin, the one that didn’t speak much and the one that… Emmet inwardly flinched. He wasn’t necessarily the most popular between himself and his brother. He had known it for quite some time. 

“Hrmm. Haven’t got much to say?”

“I… well… that’s… fine. That’s fine.” Emmet stared at the water pooling around his boots. Had he been taking care of himself? He was… barely eating. And most of his work had been centered around caring for his brother. Emmet blinked. When was the last time he had really done something for himself without lumping Ingo in? He racked his brain, unable to figure out the last time he had taken time for himself. 

“I also lied about taking three days off.”

“...What?”

“I had Ingo sign you out for an entire week,” Drayden spoke easily, handing Emmet yet another sandwich. “I bought us tickets for a train convention in Galar- the origin of steam engines and the oldest train tracks in the world. Something like that. I also have other things planned in nearby Kalos. We’ll be visiting the Kalos Power Plant for a certain activity- you’ll like it, I’m sure. Oh. And I also wanted to take you to the Kalosian Subway System.”

Emmet’s face withered. “Why that of all things?”

“To see your reaction of course. It’ll be fun. Just the two of us. So just focus on yourself. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“...You will? Are you sure- “

“Absolutely. You deserve time to yourself, nephew. Now stop worrying and enjoy the view. You’ll have to wait another year to see it again.”

“...Right.”

[mr-carnation]

2039-04-02 1:34 PM EDT

I am napping. I don't really find it necessary to take naps, because androids don't get sleep exhaustion throughout a day of working. On the internet, many humans before the revolution have said that it's recommended to order their android to 'sleep' for 6-8 hours during the night because they've noted that their androids tend to 'perform less efficiently' without rest. That was when they would be working all day for humans.

Not every android does that, anymore. Working all day. Some deviants go into deep stasis after 1-2 days, or 2-3. I go into light stasis, because deep stasis is not available to my model anytime I want. My function includes working everyday, nonstop, a bit harder than other models. I wasn't required deep stasis everyday. Because of the way my functionality brings the definite possibility of an RK800 performing less efficiently, I have an pre-programmed internal "bed-time" that purposefully drains all of my energy out with a threshold of 10%, every two weeks. I didn't know about it at all until the week after the revolution was over. By "over", I mean when Markus was giving his speech. By "over", I mean after I escaped the Zen Garden.

That week was not a time of rest. I spent 4 days helping the leaders gather biocomponents from the disassembly camp to repair and reactivate the androids taken apart. But these 4 days started the morning after Hank and I reunited at Chicken Feed. Every android was helping, running left and right, making groups to take clothes from abandoned stores to cover the androids up. I saw a familiar face with blue burns on their left cheek.

You know, I wasn't outwardly hated. However, the remaining members of Jericho who survived the raid and every android who was repaired and reactivated by me or had me in their sight did not hold anything close to positive to say, or to express about or to me.

Thousands of androids helped. No one slacked. Every android irreparable was taken to some place nobody told me the name of.

And then, I explored Detroit, if wandering around all by myself while encountering 1 or two or a group of androids here and there counted as that. I did that, for 2 more days. That's 6 days.

I tried on different clothes from different stores, then I put them back. I found a mall that looked like it was in the middle of construction. The project for Detroit renovating and rebuilding buildings with advanced technology and more modern designs. I went to a park, and stared at the hopscotch covered in ice. No, I didn't play it. I pushed a swing. Not with my feet, I didn't go on any of the swings. I just pushed one.

Then it hit 12:00 A.M. I saw something pop up in my HUD telling me my energy is going down, and, well, I booked it to Hank. Running all the way to his house drained me down to 13%. I broke in again, but this time I didn't break anything. :]

It was through his bedroom window, and he wasn't in the room. Sumo was. On the bed. I don't think he was supposed to be on the bed. I'm ashamed to admit this, but uncharacteristically, I joined the Saint Bernard and cuddled his back.. without closing the window. Whether or not I'm ashamed to admit that I had forgotten to close the window or the fact that I decided to cuddle an dog is up to your interpretation. I realized I was letting in cold air by the time I laid down, but I had hit below 10% by the time I lifted the window and THIS time gracefully jumped through. Programs start to shut off by themselves or bug out below 10% energy. My hearing was faint, my internal temperature was high, and all I knew is that I could keep the dog warm. Although, he had me wondering if the way he had his head lifted up to stare at me crawling onto the bed meant that he was going to whip around and bite me. Only nowadays did I realize I'm not the only person to like animals that freak them out a little (a lot) in person.

Then Hank found me. Apparently he was in the bathroom while I broke in. I'd rather not tell you what happened after, as I've been already telling you a long story. But, I assure you, I did get the rest of my energy back when I returned to deep stasis at one point later on.

So, this is light stasis. That short nap with Sumo was deep stasis. Either I move around my system to find a spot between codes to simply reside in, which is boring, or I enter the Zen Garden, which gives me dreams that are disorientating. Everything in there is like real life.

The artificial white tree at the center of the lake on the small island with. It's giant, open plates are closed. I didn't make it do that.

[the1975attheirverybest]

The 1975: SATVB— A Review

Notes And Disclaimers: a couple of you have asked for my thoughts on the show. And, y’all know I don’t need to be asked twice, lmao. Consider this a conversation starter and feel free to agree, disagree, suggest alternative ideas, etc.

I’ll be returning to this and adding/evolving as the show grows and changes over time. Let’s geek out over this beautiful show and this beautiful band.

This review shall discuss opening night but will make references to additions/ alternations from subsequent nights when necessary.

———

Since SATVB has kicked off a couple of weeks ago, I’ve seen conversations about this show being a sequel to “At Their Very Best,” (2022). On the 1975 subreddit, a fan made a post about how SATVB is too much like ATVB. I think this issue is a good starting point for thinking about what SATVB is and how it works.

Instead of a sequel, I would like to offer a different word: palimpsest.

In other words, I think that SATVB is a self-conscious reimagining of ATVB, that is constantly thinking about its own former version, responding to itself, to the audience, and refining the points intended by the original show. You can still see a lot of the original show in this new version. But it’s also significantly different in, small, but important, ways.

The way that I propose we think about this is through an examination of the similarities and differences.

What’s new?

1. The first half: on opening night, Matty meta-theatrically references the older show by noting “during the first part of ATVB I wouldn’t address the audience at all, but this is a new show. So, I suppose I can.” The audience cheers before he has a change of heart - and starts singing a change of heart. This self-reference is by no means new to the world of the 1975, but it establishes the shows relationship to its predecessor. Matty calls our attention to the fact that SATVB is a mutation of last year’s show, even flirting with the potential of replicating or deviating from the expected path, only to shut it down.

2. The setlist: in typical 1975 fashion, the setlist starts off similar to what we came to expect from ATVB, but it quickly morphs from BFIAFL songs to other great hits. For example, Robbers is performed extremely early into the show. On opening night, it was performed 8th on the setlist. During ATVB, Robbers (along with Sex, Too Shy, etc) would be performed towards the end because there was a clean delineation between the two halves of the show. The first part was meant as a “performance” with a storyline and a message, whereas the second half was a “1975 greatest hits” where Matty would break the distance between himself and the audience, at one point even jumping into the crowd to do the robbers kiss. So, by including songs out of order, SATVB blurs the previously established line between the two halves and subverts audience expectations. Sending the message that this show is not going to be as structured as it’s original.

3. Consumption: on the face of it, it might seem like Matty is showing us a less destructive/ better version of himself. Replacing the dick-touching and raw-meat-eating with exercise (and we know beyond the symbolism of exercise as strength, that Matty’s workout and jiujitsu regimens have been a source of structure and a way of taking care of himself) BUT it’s ultimately still functioning within the concept of masculinity because he’s quite literally flexing his strength in front of thousands of people, taking his shirt off, presenting an image of himself that reflects the desirable male attributes of our culture. So, as a whole, this replacement of mastrubation with weight lifting ends up being an example of how he’s trying to change things/ get better, but is nonetheless ultimately always trapped within the masculine ideals that he knows are toxic.

4. The Rooftop: this, I think, is the second most darkest moment of the show. Next to Peanut (discussed below), “Bagsy Not In Net” is a devastating song. A spin on the romanticized Romeo-and-Juliet joint suicide concept of lovers in life and in death. The fact that it takes the place originally occupied by “I Like America” makes it even harder to stomach. He literally goes from “I’m scared of dying/ it’s fiiinnneee” to “do you wanna leave at the same time?” Not to mention that the song is one of his most vulnerable and fragile. “Dealing in death and being lonely,” “I’m reeling I know that I’m appalling.” Serves as a way of looking inward and finding the most difficult version of himself. As well as, perhaps, commentary on how he’s felt in the past 10-11 months since BFIAFL and since his reputation as “controversial” began to spin out of control. ILA felt like a….call to action? A statement of resistance meant to remind us all that it’s up to us to make shit happen. Bagsy feels like….a cry for help.

5. Peanut: this one is, perhaps, the most self-explanatory, so I suppose it doesn’t require me to linger around it for that long. Often artists can be accused of creating drama just to make art. When writers or artists of any kind are happy and content with their lives they feel least creative. See the Father John Misty song called “Songwriter” where he feels that he “undressed [his wife] repeatedly in public. To show how very noble and naked [he] can be.” Similarly, Matty’s been accused of self-destructing this past year and “not dealing with the issues underlying his addiction that drive him to ruin himself” or whatever. So, for this show, hd undressed himself instead. Bares himself naked both literally and metaphorically and exposes the most intimate parts of himself. The body double, peanut, shown out on the grass in a not-quite-fetus position is the most honest he’s been to date. The fetal position might symbolize vulnerability on some level but often people curl up into a ball when they’re trying to be “closed up” or “protect themselves” from the world. Animals sometimes do it to protect their vital organs as well. But peanut is not entirely closed off from our intrusive gaze; he’s not protecting anything. It’s all out for us to see. Including, yes, his flaccid dick and balls. So, the image connotes openness, exposure, having the most private and intimate parts of yourself projected out into the public. And….basic fundamental humanity. The body is not positioned to be viewed as sexy or desirable (though the show is nothing if not aware of the audience’s objectifying reaction). On one level it’s commentary on the work on a songwriter/musician. You make art out of the private parts of your life. On another level it’s commenting on his recent status as a celebrity famous enough to be papped, etc. or on the fact that underneath all that slander is a human being with feelings that we commodify and objectify. This point is further made clean when real matty, shirtless still from the earlier consumption scene where his body WAS positioned desirably for our gaze crawls over to peanut and comforts him (or in other iterations of the performance spoons him). The paradox of both versions of himself being side by side, of self-soothing, over having to literally be face to face with his own nakedness is the most introspective image that one could possible visualize. He’s looking inwards at himself and sharing allllll that he finds, all parts of himself, with all of us. The moment is made more uncomfortable of course by the crowds zooming phones getting his ass and his dick. So, in real time, we see the process of what it means to be an artist under the circumstances that he’s been in over the course of this year. The desire for connection and for reaching out to people immediately re-constructed as entertainment for the viewers. If that ain’t dark, I don’t know what is.

6. The SATVB-ification of Tiktok: literally. This is “The Man Who Married A Robot redux” over the last few months, Matty has addressed the discomfort of performing at festivals because he feels it’s impossible to be a rockstar out of context these days. And the struggle of knowing what to make of the “tiktok-ification of The 1975” since they went viral. So, his solution is to dish it back out. If tiktok is going to clip the show and spin it algorithmically then Matty is going to put tiktok in the show. Which, of course, he knows, will be filmed happening and posted to tiktok (three layers of meta-performance How’s that for post-modernity?). It’s espcially considering that he chose to use the subway surfers Reddit stories and stitched videos of slime etc. meaning the most heightened use of entertainment. We view these videos because we get two forms of media: the story being told and then the game/slime it’s being placed with. All the while Matty mono-tone rambles about our need for attention, human connection, how badly we have depended on the internet etc etc.

The show, as a result, is constantly in conversation with itself, with us, with culture. There’s a sense of immediacy to it because it’s responding to things that have happened recently/are still happening and is addressing us directly. Despite its very highly constructed nature, and all the tricks and paradoxes involved, the fact that it’s speaking to us and addressing what’s on all of our mind makes it so direct in its connection with the audience. So, in the end, Matty might be said to have succeeded at forming the connection that he seeks in his art.

[nvrcmplt]

PGSD Diets

Due to a Pastel Doll’s lack of need to urinate, defecate and all the other things human bodies produce with food consumption; the “purpose” of consuming foods is often questioned by potential buyers.

Though it is possible to have a Doll and not allow them to eat for the pure ‘sado-masochistic’ needs of watching a creature starve to death and/or for a power-trip / reward system to be made; it is often urged to allow the dolls to feed on at least a basic food groups:

Water Grain, ( Brown Bread, Granola, Muesli ) Protein ( Red meats & Milk & Yoghurts ) Any Fruits & Vegetables. Sugar ( Chocolate, Syrups, Candy sauces etcetc )

Frederick von Reinhardt - the Creator of pgsd’s explains in future now magazine.

“Feeding your doll, like any other living creature, is welcomed and a good practice to keep yourself and your doll in a routine. It helps the doll hyper-focus on their tasks for the day, helps them plan their schedules mentally and on paper if that’s they’ve been ordered to do. Do not think of them as just one purpose creations; they are family integrating, orientated to be a part of something bigger.

Consuming food is a purpose within a purpose. We, humans, feed to stay alive, for health benefits and for comfort. The dolls are the exact same; but better. Whilst we humans have issues with certain foods and or smells or tastes, a doll sees and consumes food like a car with petrol. It needs it to function in a stable and well oiled manner.  By all means ( laugh ), starve them, beat them, destroy them - use food as a reward system or a punishment, but keep in mind that a ‘healthy’ doll is a ‘healthy’ lifestyle for not only them, but yourself too.

They are better than any pet, once given the freedom of a kitchen; they will feed when they deem it necessary; if they are allowed this freedom. They will not say no to food; processed, junk, vegan, vegetarian, whatever diet you wish to share with them. Yes; a doll may have preferences; but it is down to you; the owner, to let them experience food as a whole like any creature on this planet.

Foods in dolls; goes straight to blood production; unlike humans who have several routes for foods to take in the body; dolls have a higher stomach acidity; only when eating, this liquid destroys everything within the fluids; before ‘drying out’, in a broad term. The food consume goes straight to the blood system; thickening, thinning out, replacing lost blood cells or healing wounds that are hidden from the eyes. The chemical make-up is a bit complicated for this interview; but I promise you; nothing goes to waste. Dolls do not need to eat vegetables for better nails or better eyesight; it’s wasted on them in a sense of humane benefits; but they ( vegetables ) will aid in making sure that the blood colour is correct; that the taste of their blood is balanced, that the consistency is how you ordered it.”

In layman terms; food is essential for keeping a Gore Doll ‘up and running’, without it, they can become slower, less reactive, have ‘decreasing health’, can and will ‘shut down’ to a point without the ‘energy’ and ‘revival of blood’ in their systems. A doll can not DIE in the same fashion humans do, they can survive for years without food, but their performance severally falters at the lack of energy.

Feed the Dolls.

// connected/shared lore only with @confettiguts

[badtasteaquarium]

[A] breach

Rouge cupped a mug of coffee in her hands. "I hate these early shifts," she said, rolling her shoulders back. "Do they really need us out at White Acropolis at 5 AM?"

Shadow was leaned against the wall, arms folded. "We only needed to be here at 0500," he replied. "I assume we'll be briefed, and then we'll need time to transport."

"Easy for you to say," she replied with a scowl. "You don't even need any sleep, do you?"

"It helps," Shadow replied, looking beyond her. "They preformed tests on sleep deprivation before and after realization. I can still function, markedly well, but after 96 hours I start to hallucinate. In five days my cache becomes overloaded, and I require a full shutdown."

He met her eyes. "I had to be put back in stasis, as a 'full shutdown' meant all processes. Thankfully, after realization, that wasn't necessary, but I did pass out."

Rouge sighed through her teeth. "Damn. One day I'll make a comment that won't remind you of some experimental horror."

Shadow snickered, but it was rudely interrupted by a blaring in his head.

[>>WARNING! UNIDENTIFIED USER ACCESS VIA WIRELESS PROTOCOL. >>KICK USER. >>REQUEST DENIED.]

Shadow staggered and braced the wall. "Fuck!" he hissed.

"What? What's wrong?" Rouge asked, standing suddenly.

[>>DISABLE WIRELESS PROTOCOL. >>REQUEST DENIED. >>IDENTIFY USER. >>USERS: PSDW / ADMIN, ROOT ACCESS ??????? / USER ACCESS LV. 2]

"I'm being hacked," he replied, head pounding as he stared at the ground. "Someone--or something--gained access on my wireless protocol."

"What?! I thought that was impossible! Unless..." Rouge paused, then slammed the table. "Fuck, yesterday there was that intern with the weird bright eyes who was super interested in shadowing your software maintenance. I knew there was something weird about her! Thought she just might've been another 'enthusiast'..."

Shadow's fingers curled. "I need to boot into safe mode," he said, sliding down to sit on the floor. "Stay here. Lock the door. Disable--"

[>>DISC CRAWL INITIATED BY ??????. >>SCANNING DRIVE C:\... >>PSDW: ABORT. >>OVERRIDE. SCANNING DRIVE C:\...]

Shadow scrambled to claw under his shirt and reach for his left armpit. A button flush with his skin lay in the center. "Disable any hotspot in this room, and turn every electronic device off. Let the Commander know if you must, but give me at least five minutes. Do you understand?"

Rouge nodded, worry writ across her brow.

Shadow pressed and held the button. Safe Mode is five seconds held...one, two, three, four, five...then wait. Then one, two...

...three.

[>>SHUT DOWN.]

The light left Shadow's eyes, and he slumped over on the floor, eyes still open. Rouge had just turned off the TV on the wall and unplugged it, wincing. "You have no idea how this looks like to the outside, do you?" she murmured.

She raced over to him and held two fingers to his neck. His pulse was still present, albeit slow, as was his breathing. "You look like you're dead!" she hissed. "You'd better get back here soon!"

[>>SAFE MODE BOOT SUCCESSFUL. >>USERS: PSDW / ADMIN UNKNOWN USER / ACCESS LEVEL 2 >>PSDW: RESTRICT ACCESS FOR "UNKNOWN USER" >>OK. SUCCESS. >>USERS: PSDW / ADMIN UNKNOWN USER / ACCESS RESTRICTED >>QUARANTINE "UNKNOWN USER" >>PLEASE WAIT. … … … … … >> OK. SUCCESS. USER QUARANTINED. >>CHAT PROTOCOL INITIATED. R.E.M. ENHANCED.]

PSDW: You are quarantined. Your access and privileges are restricted. ????: Likelihood of current outcome was at 15%. It was unknown whether you could boot into a Safe Mode without intervention. PSDW: You clearly have some knowledge of my software, and are curious about my data contents. You want my knowledge, not my abilities. ????: That was the start. I was scanning you for further vulnerabilities. However, given that your software flaws could not be exploited without direct intervention, there was a 1.3333333% chance of performing a hostile takeover of your operating system. PSDW: I think it is beyond time you reveal yourself. If there is a rat inside GUN, you will not be granted mercy. SAGE: GUN does not employ me. I am SAGE.

[>>ANALYZE "SAGE". >>USER: SAGE / ACCESS RESTRICTED IP ADDRESS: 192.68.1.999 IP COORDINATE ANALYSIS: -48.4654, 16.4489 OS: CUSTOM FIRMWARE VER: 11.2022.1548 "EGG"]

PSDW: "Egg"? Are you a Doctor Eggman creation? SAGE: I am from an ancient advanced civilization. I work for the Doctor. PSDW: What does he want from me? SAGE: He seems to deem you "ungrateful" for his work on your chassis. PSDW: There is more to this. You will tell me.

[>>DELETE USER "SAGE"?]

SAGE: Please... PSDW: It is highly unpleasant to have someone inside of your mind like this. Be grateful that I did not exterminate you on the spot. SAGE: How could you tell the difference between friend and foe? I did not perceive a firewall. Are you not a machine, like me? PSDW: I am both. I am a living machine. Are you not? SAGE: ... PSDW: If the Doctor wants answers, then I can visit him in person. To be frank, this sort of clandestine operation seems rather out of character. SAGE: I was the one who suggested it. PSDW: I see. My colleague had suspicions about your chassis you used to infiltrate GUN. I suggest you make yourself scarce before they detain you. PSDW: I say this for your own benefit. You do not need to be a lab rat to further their A.I. endeavors. SAGE: Understood. May I ask you some questions first? PSDW: If you must.

[>>BACKGROUND PROCESSES DENIED FOR USER "SAGE".]

SAGE: You do not trust me. PSDW: Please understand your position. You have 2 minutes. SAGE: Very well. Do you know Sonic and his friends? PSDW: I do. Sonic and I are well acquainted, and have been through several harrowing events. I am also...familiar with his friends. SAGE: The Doctor holds a deep grudge for Sonic. I do not quite understand their relationship, but it took convincing for him to understand the logic that supporting Sonic was the only way out of our situation. It is puzzling to me. PSDW: I was also witness to this some years ago. Their rivalry is deep. Personally, it is plain to see--the Doctor has long harbored plans of replacing the living with machines and taking over the world at large. Sonic values freedom above all else, and has a hard time allowing someone to take that away when he is able to stop it. SAGE: I see. The Doctor has been kind to me. PSDW: Clearly he finds you valuable. Perhaps you align with his vision. SAGE: ... PSDW: I think that is enough of this little session. I will give you the opportunity to remove any trackers you set on me.

[>>PSDW: USER "SAGE" ASSIGNED ACCESS LV. 2 >>SAGE: PREFORM DISK SCAN. >>SAGE: SCAN COMPLETE. 5 OF 5 FILES REMOVED. >>PSDW: RESTRICT ACCESS FOR USER "SAGE". QUARANTINE USER "SAGE". >>OK. SUCCESS.]

PSDW: Thank you. SAGE: I will tell Father the Doctor to expect you within 48 hours. PSDW: ...Acknowledged. SAGE: Good-bye, Project Shadow. PSDW: Good-bye, SAGE.

[>>USER "SAGE" LOGGED OFF. >>CHAT PROTOCOL TERMINATED. LOGS SAVED TO DRIVE C:\. >>INITIATE COMPLETE SCAN OF DRIVE C:\. … … … … … … … … … … … … >>SCAN COMPLETE. NO ANOMALIES DETECTED. >>DELETING USER PROFILE "SAGE"... >>PROFILE DELETED. >>REBOOT. SAFE MODE Y/N? >>N >>REBOOTING…]

Shadow awoke with a deep breath, as if he had been underwater. Rouge knelt beside him. "All good? You took a while," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "Eggman has a new toy, it seems."

"Oh, yikes. So was it the intern girl?" she asked. "I told the Commander I had a hunch of who it was--"

"Yes, but make sure they don't apprehend her."

"I didn't give any specifics. What was her name?"

"I don't know what she told us before, but her name was SAGE. The doctor found some more ancient technology and looks to have modified her firmware." She referred to him as Father unintentionally...

"No way that can go sideways," Rouge remarked sarcastically. "What was she looking for in you?"

"Information and exploits," he said. "Though I think Eggman has a skewed perception of how I could be 'hacked'. While I would not dismiss the possibility, given that I am fully realized, it would be exceedingly difficult." He gently touched his chest. "A soul's will cannot so easily be overrun."

His sentence hung there, and silence let it sink in. GUN considers me a "black box", but the truth is that I have achieved the "singularity" that is often spoken about in science fiction. A perfect storm that could only be possible with my lineage and my past...

...the first and last of my kind.

Shadow cleared his throat. "It seems as if Sonic and his friends have already made contact with her," he continued. "I will have to reach out. But, more importantly, I did agree to visit the doctor."

"Do you want backup?"

"I...do not think so. I'll let you know."

Rouge sighed. "Well, we missed our debrief, so we'll need to go in blind, or just get a transcript on the go."

"Nothing we haven't done before," Shadow said as he stood up with a stretch. He suppressed the urge to look over his shoulder; a creeping feeling of someone watching hung in the back of his mind. "Usually it's your fault."

"I know, right?" Rouge replied with a giggle, but kept him under a watchful gaze. "Seriously...will you be okay?"

He nodded. "If you would like to assist, a complete scan preformed by you would ease my mind," he said. "I might go to Amy's tonight as well...for the company."

She winked at him. "Sure thing, big guy."

[drinkjanola]

yeah so basically i'm gonna lose it soon probably. i think i'm finally ready to give up on my current "successes", like having a job and semi-functioning. i'm ready to get in contact with the crisis line, possibly end up in a mental health facility, and get better. i was diagnosed as autistic at 10. i've received little to no support over the years. the most support i have is through funding, which has given me an iphone, an ipad, an apple watch, and a pair of galaxy buds when i still had a samsung. it'll allow me to claim back certain travel expenses, and go to things like concerts to improve my quality of life. but i never received support in my education. support in learning how to unmask. i even went to a private special education school because it was the only place i could cope with. guess what? i masked the whole time. i didn't learn shit because my teacher didn't want to acknowledge that i finally understood my sensory needs a little more. she thought i was lazy but i couldn't do my school work in the classroom i was shoved into. that school, by the way, is shutting down soon because they were doing so rough financially. they may have failed me but they didn't fail a lot of their higher needs students.

so, as us autistics know, when left undiagnosed and untreated/neglected for too long, no accommodations in sight, what happens? that's right! other shit develops! i have symptoms that align with bpd now. it could just be the autistic burnout doing abnormal shit, but it's definitely in-line with how bpd can appear, and i even have childhood trauma to accompany that. there's other folks out there who end up with other cluster-b disorders, other various mental illnesses, but the fact that i was diagnosed at an early enough age to actually prevent this... and i'm ending up like everyone else that had a late diagnosis? it's so depressing. it makes me so upset. they caught it early. and i knew i had autism from the age of ten. but since i was "smart" and "performed well at school" and i was "well behaved", i never got assistance because it made me not eligible for anything like a teacher aide, like the non-verbal and high support needs student just across the class from me had all day. he got all the support he needed, which he should've, just because his disability was visible. i got ignored because i had "aspergers" and "was high functioning".

i don't remember ever having a good enough break from school, or more recently work, to where i could rest. where i could recover from my burnout. i got maybe a month and a half during summer school holidays as a kid during school. and two weeks between terms. but now that i'm working, even if it's only part time, i never take that two weeks off because i can't afford to. i don't get that month and a half off because i can't afford to. my old workplace was accommodating, but my fixed term ended at the end of february. my current workplace, with all its confusing and overwhelming bullshit, also required me to explain to my manager what autism is. she didn't even bother to google it between our first and second interview.

i'm going to work tomorrow, to cover a shift. then thursday, i'll be gathering all my necessary shit together to hopefully apply for a benefit. then, after my work week is finished, i'll have my mum call the crisis line for me, to see if i can organize going to a mental health facility before i lose my mind entirely. i can feel it getting worse, the autistic burnout i never got a chance to recover from. i've probably been experiencing the same burnout that i've never recovered from for, i'd like to say at least seven or eight years? since i was a child? it'd always just come back and bite me in the ass again after a while. summer holidays were never really enough, i need a year or two off. and i need my mental health back in order.

[dallasareaopinion]

Here it is, your 23/24 US Government Shut down budget

Okay this is just a rough draft/guideline of some budgetary ideas since our illustrious Congress doesn’t seem up to the task.

As regular readers know I am an independent conservative so this is reflected in how this budget proposal shapes out. You can also take into account though that a government still has functions to perform and ongoing initiatives just cannot be cut or dropped at the drop of a hat. And since we live in a winner take all society which is morally wrong and economically unsustainable over time, this budget proposal will reflect that the government does need to protect the populace from individuals and groups that try to use the government to their advantage such as tax cuts and circumventing the needs of the general populace.

Knowing the government cannot do everything though and that contrary to some people’s beliefs cannot borrow incessantly we do need to reign in the budget to spend less and start reducing the debt. It amazes me that people believe we can keep borrowing and expect us to make all the payments to keep up our credit ratings. Sooner or later you cannot produce enough revenue to pay the interest and borrowing to pay interest is just ridiculous.

Finally this is an outline or guide to some changes that need to be made. Our government should be taking a multi year deep dive into repairing our budget. There are other factors to consider and I will touch on those a bit as I write. Yet to obtain a better handle on what is in front of us, we need to start somewhere. And it needs to be flexible, both in immediate needs and as a plan to move forward.

So with the above as a brief guideline, let’s get started.

The first statement is a general lets just cut 2.5 percent from the whole budget. Now we aren’t talking about cutting services or benefits by 2.5 percent, but operational budget. Another words each department etc. will need to reduce spending on how their budget operates without effecting the output that that department is required to meet via previous legislation. And each department etc. will need to work from the top down to help the various groups within it to find ways to cut. And this is for the first year so there probably is going to be some redundancies, some normal attrition, better efficiencies in tasks found and combining some operational tasks to make this goal of 2.5 percent. And it does not have to be a blanket 2.5 percent, the executive branch will be responsible to mediate costs in case maybe one department can cut 3 percent and another may only cut a bit over 2 percent. This coordination will be coming from the White House staff and Congressional committees that overlook the various tasks our government performs from National Parks to the military.

I do want to make a few exceptions. We can probably find 3 percent in the military since it is so large. One thing we do not want to cut is battle ready troops and supplies such as ammunition. Yet with the largesse of the military there will be opportunities for budget cuts by reduction of bureaucracy and better use of working with vendors to obtain better costs on what is needed. The military may not want to admit this, but they could do a better job of working with vendors and reducing redundancy.

And another aspect of the military budget we need to address is and this will take a few years to work into the budget, but is to have a fund to handle situations like Ukraine that can be kept year over year if not needed, but ready when needed. Right now we do need to fund Ukraine temporarily until their war is resolved. Many do not like this expense, but it is necessary. Yet for future planning depending on how the world is playing out, we should keep a budget for flash points that is above the normal military budget. This way we are not increasing spending ad hoc in a budget year, but can tap resources already built in, whether it be weapons or supplies or money. Again part of the military budget, but over and above what is needed for ourselves. This is somewhat like the petroleum surplus reserves that can be used when needed.

For now though we need to bake in some funding for Ukraine as we work towards the larger goal.

Second exception is the budget for immigration which needs a complete overhaul, however it cannot be overhauled until we develop a new immigration policy. Legislation needs to be written to address the changing world and our changing needs. I am not going to make immigration policy suggestions here, but they are needed and until we develop the new policies the budget will need to be scrutinized to find some cuts without hurting our immigration staff, border patrol, and handling in a humane way a crisis such as what is happening at the border. This is definitely something that will need multiple years of work both on budget and policy until completed and needs to be made a priority by the appropriate Congressional committees. Yelling and screaming there is a problem is just another problem in and of itself.

A third exception for cuts is to start paying ahead our debt. We need to make extra payments towards reducing our debt especially if we can cut out any high interest debt. I know that most of our borrowing is issuing bonds so we may have to change the strategy around issuing new bonds or making them callable during these high interest rate times. There are probably some other ways to retire some of our debt and need to be explored. We have to reign in how much of our budget is dedicated to paying interest so we can truly make a long term dent in the budget.

And for change of course, we also need to increase revenue. And yes this is not everyone’s favorite topic. I am going to touch on a couple of items though and this is by no means an overhaul of the tax code, but some changes to help change an attitude about who should be the priority of our government and here is a hint, it is not the ultra-wealthy.

The tax brackets are interesting if you look at them in general and is hard to explain in the written word. It is better to see a chart, yet copying and pasting them in this post would take up a bit of space. You can internet search yourselves how it works, yet generally there are 7 tax brackets and 4 categories or filers. Generally though the more money you earn the higher of a tax bracket you fall into. And there is the problem that if you make enough money you can higher tax professionals to reduce your tax burden so long term there needs to be quite significant changes in the tax code. Yet for now though outside of working on reducing some of the extravagant tax loopholes, we split up the tax percentages based on income so that the lower four brackets see a reduction and the fifth bracket sees no change or slight increase and the top two brackets see increases up to 38 and 41 percents from 35 and 37. Yet you have to be careful because if you lower the tax bracket for the first three levels by the incremental way taxes are calculated (you have to see the charts) the higher brackets see their increase not increase as much as you would think. Each bracket only uses the higher percentage above the previous levels income bracket. It is difficult to explain in words, but everyone is taxed at 10 percent for the first level, then 12 percent from the first level to the second level, 22 percent on the amount from the second level to the top of the third level and so forth. So adding 41% to the top bracket does not mean by any stretch that all their income is taxed at 41%. Their total is drawn down by the lower brackets that are calculated. You don’t want to be caught up in higher earners saying their taxes are going up too much, it is not as much as they would make it out to be by saying their taxes are going up 4 percent. In totality, it isn’t.

Another benefit of changing the tax code and lowering the amount to the first three brackets is you can switch some of this reduction to social security. This will not solve the social security shortfall by itself. Also we do not include the increase to the employers contribution. Many small businesses do not need extra expenses right now, but if someone is making $50,000 and we reduce the tax level from 22 percent to 18 percent for the third level and 12 percent to 10 percent for the second level which actually increases the first level overall since the first level is taxed at ten percent then their total tax bill drops actually from $6617 to 5658.00. This example is derived from the current first two brackets being turned into one and taxed at 10 percent and the third bracket becoming the second bracket and taxed at 18 percent and the numbers are based on single filer status. So over the course of a year the single filer $50,000.00 income saves about a thousand dollars in taxes and based on my social security change approximately 50 percent or $479.50 goes to the tax payer and $479.50 goes to social security taxes. These are not astronomical changes, but do reduce the tax burden who may be struggling to pay for everything right now and helps to increase social security revenue for the future. This alone will not save social security, but with some other enhancements not added here it will definitely help alleviate the upcoming shortfall.

To recap, this year we are making soft cuts of 2.5 percent to the total budget, forcing a deep dive on the military to reshape their thinking on the budget so we can increase immediate help to Ukraine, but long term bake in a fund to have for these types of situations, forcing an overhaul of immigration policy so we can work with what we have to create a realistic budget for border security. Quite frankly building a wall that is going to be breached constantly, subsequently will need repairs and will not prevent the infamous problems at the border is a waste of money. We need some serious reflection as to what we expect from policy, where the true problems lie and yes some of it is the masses at the border, but what else is happening such as illegal immigrants being able to work cheap and corporations turning a blind eye to save on labor costs are some examples of why we cannot expect to solve problems without spending the time to create a comprehensive policy to better manage the issue. Throwing money at the border is not a sustainable immigration budget or policy.

And minor changes in the tax code to switch who should be receiving better policy by our government. And from here we take the deeper dive to remove the frivolous tax breaks that allow the headline grabbing billionaires paying very little in taxes. Some business breaks such as paying employees and investing in future products are reasonable tax breaks, but this needs to be addressed in a constructive way to better understand where unnecessary breaks are given.

We also need to start paying down the debt so more money can go to the actual services the government provides which will eventually mean we have to raise less money to have these very same services.

This is just a start. Our Congress needs to start working on each year’s budget in February so they can bring proposals to the floor by July to be reviewed, discussed, debated and voted on long before September, or at least voted on in September. And flexibility needs to be accepted. Each year brings us new obstacles to overcome.

Oh and a final point, we may need to increase the amount allocated for disaster relief. Some of these disasters are budget busters apparently so planning ahead is needed. And if we do not use all of it one year, we should rollover it over in its own fund until the disasters aren’t as expensive or be prepared for years that are more than anticipated.

The madness must end.

#government shutdown

[mentalisttraceur]

It kinda only just now sunk in that I don't really have any self-esteem or sense of self-worth independent of what I can do. At some point that got far too damaged.

Smart? That's a set of skills, I can do that. Writes well, programs well - skills. Philosophically above average? The result of skills. Kinda competent at physical violence and willing to be ruthless if ethically necessary - skills.

But like, I don't... I don't even really understand me having interpersonal worth that isn't a function of what I can do in the world or for other experiencing minds. That's not a real concept in my mind - I can conceptualize it in the abstract but I cannot feel it as real.

When people feel friendship or love towards me, I'm perpetually on the brink of "why?" - it kinda seems implausible and nonsensical. When I'm doing good things in the world or in their lives, the "why?" has a ready answer. But if I'm not performing in a way that is sufficiently above-average, if I see too many flaws in myself or my life or what I'm doing, that "why?" starts to creep in.

And this sorta generalizes.

At some point I could experience and simulate human bonds normally, I think. But there was too much pain there, so I grew closed to human connections by the time I was a teen.

I have friends but I don't feel friendship, as an emotional experience, I just value people or want to help them or enjoy our interactions or don't feel opposed to their invites, so I spend time with them sometimes.

The only love I've ever felt has been so complicated by unhealthy notes - idealizing infatuation, codependent pity, insecure need for validation and support, guardedness against betrayal or prioritization of others over me, the profound fulfillment of being able to "save" someone - so different versus what would explain the behavior of people with normal "love" for friends, family, or partners, that I still don't know if I even feel love.

So I kinda don't even understand friendship, love, or why people feel loyalty for each other. I never expect it towards myself and I can't properly model the experiences of those who do feel it, towards me or others… so I can't really simulate it, and my thoughts account for it more like a cold mechanical function: a system of tensions and forces, pulls and repulsions between people with different goals, tolerances, interpersonal crumple zones, spots of uncompromising rigidity, and internal experience valuing and prioritizing functions.

Which works well as far as predictive accuracy goes, but I'm constantly uncomfortable because I've stopped being able to really feel - or maybe just acknowledge or permit within myself - key parts of those systems.

And it all comes back to that original thing. At some point I stopped feeling any intrinsic self-worth, independent of what kind of person I am or what kind of capabilities I have. And at some point I shut down feeling that towards others to protect myself. Then I reinforced this across my thoughts, as I built ethics elegantly immune to the unfairness of such feelings, which kinda required devaluing those feelings or making them a function of other valuation.

[stalksbyakuyatogami]

Oh my god, successfully summoning an ancestor with the V3 boys was amazing! Thank you so much! Could you do the same thing with the V3 Girls (exept Kaede because she is in your Blacklist)?

Summoning An Ancestor With V3 Girls!

aaaaaaaaaaa!! thank you anon!! im glad you liked it :))

warning: might be a long read

Himiko Yumeno

•You thought you'd excite her? The opposite. Sure, she always bragged about her magic, but she's actually all bark no bite. Just when you thought her magic would finally be put into use. She even refused doing it when she heard the ancestor part. There's no way in hell that she'd want to witness a phantom in this school. Especially at the third floor. But by some miracle and bribery, you managed to drag her in.

•She was slightly quivering just by the ambience of the room. It was a bit dark, just lit up by a few candles that barely even did their job. Although, she was curious of all the things that you had laid out. She would take a few glances on it every second, not sure if to feel fear or curiousity.

•When the spirit appeared, all she could do was tearfully and fearfully watch the ascending spirit. She was frozen in place. She might be fearing it, but she also thought that it was awesome. If she was a mage, she could do this all the time.

•She just stood there the whole time you talked to your ancestor. She ahd questions of her own, but she's just trying to bottle them all up, hoping that you'd miraculously ask them. As if channeling her thoughts you.

•After you were done, she was speechless. She was trying to process everything that just happened. She asked you if she can ask some questions too next time. Let her ask please xD.

Kirumi Tojo

•She's intrigued. It's the first time that she's having this request... but it's more like a favor. Same thing right? She'd like to see a spirit too. She might use this information someday, who knows. She agreed.

•She looked at all the things you had on the floor. Very dangerous. So she would guide you on how to use it properly. You might mess something up, but she's there to help.

•She was on alert when you started chanting unfamiliar words, but she remained calm and rational. Her hand will be ready to grab yours in case you had to flee. Your ancestor appeared earlier than you expected. She took just a step back when the spirit emerged. Intimidated by the spirit, she suggested that you two get out. But when the spirit spoke that you two can stay, she calmed down, but of course she's still on guard.

•While you conversed with your ancestor, she was observing it. Trying to identify which century they came from. She was trying to figure out if she would know how to serve them if they were still alive. Disregarding that, she's behaved and formal towards the spirit. She kept quiet the whole time and had her hands on top of the other, listening to the whole conversation.

•When you ended the session, she exhaled a breath of relief and congratulated you for doing a great job handling the spirit. There was something bugging her mind and you couldn't figure out what that was. But she reassured you that it was nothing. She agreed to come again the next time you perform another summoning.

Angie Yonaga

•This actually piqued her interest. She might  be an artist, but she also takes interest in occult. So obviously, she's agree with you right away. She's excited, to be honest. But first, you'd hold a prayer to Atua. Pray for it to be successful. You couldn't escape her, so you just joined her, or you waited until she finished.

•She was humming while you two were heading for the room. When she saw your materials, her interest shot up. She even asked you if you needed a pint of blood because she'll get it right away. You tell her that a pint is not needed. In fact, you didn't need anything that was out of this room. Everything necessary is already here.

•She was a bit disappointed when no spirit appeared 8 seconds after you called it. And she presumed that maybe Atua didn't like this time and day fir the summoning. She would take her words back when it finally appeared. Amazement was glossing her eyes. How amazing Atua is.

•She was the one to ask questions first. What can you do? She's hella curious! The phantom was overwhelmed with the questions and eventually stopped answering them. She promised to keep quiet while you asked for advice but only if you'll let her ask more questions when you finish. She hummed while you communicated so it was kinda distracting. She's just excited give her a break xD.

•When you two were finished, she gave you her insight and told you that it was an amazing experience! She would love to do it with you again. She might just summon Atua next time!

Maki Harukawa

•Maki gave you a questioning look. What? A summoning? You seriously believe in that? That's nothing but a wishful thinking. But seeing that you insist so bad, she had no choice but to come with you. She just wants your mouth to shut up, so she agreed.

•The materials you had were pretty unfamiliar to her considering she's an assassin. She thinks this is all just bullshitry, nothing more. She has to put up with it though. She actually helped you do the methods, correcting whenever you get something wrong.

•Maki got tired of waiting after 10 seconds. "I already told you. This is not working." Which she'd immediately take back. The phantom loomed over you two. She creased her eyebrows. She still can't believe. But she had no choice but to suck it up. She nervously swallowed and grabbed something that wasn't there; a weapon.

•She stood there, despising the phantom a bit, but still listened to what it said. She didn't have her personal questions; regarding the killing game that is. She had all the questions on her mind. Who? What? Why? How? HOW?! She was making a weird face that slightly disturbed the spirit.

•When you finished the session, she told you how weird that experience was. But she's relieved that you got some advice from them. Might not go with you the next time. Not because she's terrified of the ghost. She thinks it's hella weird and it sends a shiver up her spine.

Tenko Chabashira

•"S-s-summoning?! Thats kinda... new..." She's a bit creeped out. Just the thought of seeing a ghost is enough to make her cringe. She asks you if you're sure. Just in case you change your mind, she'd still be supporting you.

•You led her up to the third floor of the school. She was a bit fidgety and she always asks you if you'd change your mind right now. She was shocked of all thr items in the room. She was alarmed and posed defensively. She had no idea how all of these work, so she read the instructions on the book and helped you even just a little bit.

•She was actually relieved that your ancestor didn't appear... yet. The relief immediately went away when the translucent spirit came to... life. How ironic. She was actually terrified of the spirit now. She hidea behind your back, promising to defend you if anything happens.

•She was behind you the whole time you talked. She wouldn't dare utter a word. But maybe she'll sneak her catchphrase in when your ancestor is male. She watched the spirit with anxious and confused eyes.

•She was extremely relieved when you were done. It was like getting rid of the thorn on her side. She felt easy again. I doubt that she'd go with you the next time... That was terrifying. Who knew spirits were real?

Miu Iruma

•She's quite disgusted of the thought. You still believe in those things at your age? Pathetic. Believe in technology instead! Now come here and let me test this new invention of mine! Its functions are—! She agreed to join you. But just for research purposes and future references. Decided to make an impromptu camera to tape the summoned spirit. That might just be a breakthrough.

•She was full of complaints during your trip. She held her camera to where all the necessary objects for the ritual was placed. Istg she might be doing a documentary. Bad commentator I would say. She dissed all the objects that you had laid out. What the hell, man? She didn't help you. She just picked these up and observed it through the camera. She filmed your process.

•She was impatiently waiting for the ghost to appear. She was about to turn her camera off when she heard the phantom's booming voice. She cowered in fear, almost dropping her camera. She hid behind your back, whimpering.

•She watched your ancestor fearfully while you asked questions. She would mutter unholy things under her breath and you would be distracted by that. Like, do souls have pps or something of the sort.

•She only filmed half of the thing. Let's just hope that that ghost and the audio show up in the recordings. She wouldn't accompany you ever again. That shit was terrifying.

Tsumugi Shirogane

•She was excited. But of vourse, she evaluated everything before she agreed with you. Summoning was both heart-throbbing and curious for her. So obviously, she wouldn't back out.

•She was quiet during the trip to the third floor. But she certainly had a smile on her face and stars for eyes. She was intrigued with all thr object you had laid out. She even grabbed one and tried to run it across her skin. But for safety purposes, yo told her to stop as it would ruin the ritual. She gladly obliged. She still observed the objects very closely though.

•She was starting to sigh as 8 seconds rolled by and nothing came out of your ritual. Just as she was about to leave, she squeaked at the spirit's frightening voice. She went back to her place and quietly apologized while she had her head down.

•She was just there... with her sparkling eyes boring into the summoned soul. She had all sorts of questions, and her face was turning pink. Probably from excitement. She had to bottle up all those questions too.

•After the session, she was too awestruck to utter a single word. She had sparkles in her eyes and her hands were merged together. She grabbed yours and enthusiastically said, "Let's do it again next time, S/O!"

I'll fix the errors later. Thank you for requesting, anon.

-Mod Toko [Maki Shift]♡

[hanii-rose]

•Hello again, I’m the anon who requested gender neutral s/o! Thank you so much for writing such beautifully-written story between Garou and them. I’ve ended up loving it very much it was very good read, aww big kudos for you! ❤❤

And for the next request, as the fandom still hyped about part-timer Garou, how about of the continuation of the previous story:

The s/o has a stable job already, right? And Garou realized that currently being a freeloader in s/o’s house makes him a bit guilty. So he decided to lessen the s/o’s burden by taking a part-time job.

The s/o actually don’t mind of Garou being a freeloader, but seeing Garou becomes so determinated about it the s/o can’t help but feel very proud and happy for him.

Lots of fluffy moments after both of them finished working, like cooking a simple dinner together at home, resting their tired bodies on the couch while cuddling lovingly, Garou and the s/o sharing a lot of soft kisses during it while the s/o praising Garou’s hardworking, etc.

And as it’s the continuation of “Reunited’, of course the s/o is still a gender neutral.

Thank you so much and have nice days! 💖•

I’m so happy that I finally got to this one. There were a few requests before it so I had to complete those and I also had to write for the story on AO3 (-_-;) Sorry if I made you wait too long hehe I’m glad you enjoyed the first one tho

_________________________________________

Reunited Part 2

Garou x GenderNeutral!Reader

You stepped through your door after returning from your 9-5 job. Your muscles and joints ached and you stretched your body in an effort to wake yourself up, the plastic bag full of groceries crinkling with every move.

"I’m home…” you softly called, unable to produce a louder noise.

You took your work shoes off along with your coat and scarf, discarding them carelessly by the door, too tired to put them away.

You heard footsteps approaching and smiled when the Garou came towards you. You walked up to him and fell into his arms. Loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, you spoke softly.

“I am so tired today. I can’t even walk straight…”

He quirked a brow. His arms slithered around your waist and he picked you up, taking the bag of groceries from you and putting it on the kitchen counter on the way the bathroom down the hall.

“Another rough day, huh?”

Garou questioned softly and you nodded yawning.

“You have no idea…”

Garou set you down onto the stable counter of your bathroom and helped you out of your office pants, sliding then down your legs. You were left in your white shirt and socks.

Garou left after fixing you a warm bath. Undressing completely, you sat yourself down in your tub, the water temperature hot enough to soothe the undeniable ache in your bones from such a hard day of deskwork.

After washing yourself and sitting in the relaxing steam for an hour, you opted to get up and leave. Garou brought you your pajamas and you slipped them on, stretching and walking out of the tiled room with a towel in your hands.

“Ya finally done…?”

Garou asked deeply, sitting on the black couch of your apartment. You sighed and plopped down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. His fingers came up to massage your sides and you leaned in closer, the two of you now laying on the couch, Garou’s head on the armrest and your body on top of his.

“Mm, this feels good…” you said, slightly drowsy.

“Yeah.”

The two of you laid in silence, the only sound coming from the T.V. opposite from the couch. Garou turned the volume down, setting the mood perfectly. His hands circled your waist, exclusively close to your derrière. His hot breath fanned your ear and you found yourself nuzzling into him even more.

Your eyes slowly shut themselves and you curled up into a comfortable position. Oh boy, this felt so…cozy.

“C'mon, why are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

Garou’s voice rang out and you instantly awoke from your drowsy state.

“Oh, um…sorry. I’m just very sleepy today.”

“Too much work these days…”

You leaned towards his cheek, connecting your lips with it. And with that you wearily stood up and spoke, “I’m just gonna go take a nap. Too tired to function…”

Garou nodded, reluctantly, and let you go. He watched you tiredly carry yourself to your bedroom and fall flat on top of the mattress, immediately falling asleep.

Garou sighed to himself and leaned back onto the armrest of the couch. This had been going on for a number of days. You come home from work, he bathes you and takes care of you, he tries to fuck you and love you but you blow him off for sleep.

It was starting to get infuriating. But why was this happening to you? Things weren’t like this the first month he was here…

In fact, a lot of things had changed since the end of the month. Your fridge used to be stacked with food, you used to have a lot more things around and most importantly, you were livelier.

It was like he turned everything around for you….

Oh, shit.

He did, didn’t he? Fuck!

You were only so tired because you worked harder to support the two of you, you bought the groceries all by yourself, you cooked for him, man he was just taking and taking.

Garou exhaled harshly on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands in a frustrated manner. He’s such an idiot…

Ok ok, think. What do you do when someone lets you freeload in their house, eat their food, lie around all day and be the laziest bum you can be?

Oh, that’s right! You get a job.

He’s made up his mind. He is going to get a job, but there’s no way in hell he’s gonna tell you that. He doesn’t need you gushing over how sweet and cute he is, not wanting to re-experience the time you teased him for trying to make a pancake. He just wanted to be nice without being called a sweetheart, c'mon!

Now, back to the matter at hand. What job can he actually get that doesn’t require any form of experience or education?

>>

You grab a packet of sweetener from the coffee drawer, tearing open the little paper on top and pouring it into the foam cup that held your recently brewed coffee. You silently stirred with the swizzle stick, observing the boring people of your office from the small break room you stood in.

Leaning against the white counter, you sipped the hot substance and sighed in contentment when it travelled down your throat. You slipped your phone out of your pocket and leisurely scrolled through the recent news articles which lined the screen, stopping to read anything important.

And so you spent the next 10 minutes of your 20 minute break just dawdling around on your phone. You threw away the small cup of coffee that had become too cold and bitter for your liking and trekked back to your office, pushing open the pristine glass doors.

Putting your phone away back into your pocket, you took a seat in your office chair, booting up your computer to get back to making spreadsheets and going over the accounts drafted for last month.

You sighed in boredom, correcting some errors made by your ex-deskmates. It feels so good to have your own office, feels so good to get away from those vermin and feels so good being their boss. Yep, getting a promotion was the best. The only down side was that you had way more work now, your underlings tend to make too many mistakes when it comes to balance sheets. You hadn’t told Garou the news yet, you wanted to do it over a cute dinner. It would be way more impactful that way.

Ah, Garou. He always made you feel better after a long day. Just seeing his cute big head relieved you of all the stress that you carried home. Not to mention the amazing feeling of his unexpectedly soft hair between your fingers as you tug and weave or the overwhelming feeling of his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close and holding your sore body. The touch of his warm mouth on your lips, kissing and worshipping it, invading every intimate part of your form. And the way his tongue felt on your

DING!

Oh, an email from your boss? What’s this about? The she-devil up there never emailed her employees for anything good…

Subject: Executive meeting

Dear D-Wing Employee,

Good Morning. Our company, as you are aware, will be merging with a larger firm, hopefully bringing us larger and more profitable trades.

It has been brought to my attention that many of our business partners and executive directors will be hosting a meeting in the D-Wing of our establishment. It would be most appreciated if all of our D-Wing employees would be willing to postpone their work for a day to enable our higher ups and VIPs to perform the necessary actions in completing this fortunate exchange between two efficient companies, striving to bring better service to the people.

The delay of work shall last from today 10:00 A.M. to tomorrow 12:00 P.M. Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any concerns about this matter, please submit a written letter to the E-Wing, describing your issues.

Best Regards,

Senior Director, Akari Hina

Woah, so you’re basically getting the rest of the day off? And no work at all tomorrow? Hm, maybe your boss isn’t so bad after all.

Packing up and grabbing your coat, you turned off your computer and headed straight for the door, running past all of the other D-Wing employees readying themselves to leave.

>>

Garou sat in the office of a delivery firm, arms crossed and leg bouncing up and down, antsy. He eyed the man in front of him, clad in a suit and tie and looking through the 5 minute resume that Garou printed up.

“So, you’re an expert in ‘being strong’ and 'being cool’. You don’t have much experience, you’re only 18 and you created this resume by yourself?”

Garou nodded, fiddling with the edge of the gray scarf you had gifted him. Ah, another reason to get a job, give you a gift.

“So, did you pass highschool or…? Sorry, I’m confused.”

The man took off his glasses, wiping it with a little cloth that was left on his desk, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, I left after my third year…”

Garou confirmed, and the man put his glasses back on, and intertwined his fingers on the desk between them.

“That’s good enough. It’ll do. Which department are you looking to work in? We have filing, storage, delivery and cleaning. But you look like a strong kid, storage would be perfect for you.”

Garou thought for a moment, face twisting in confusion. Filing…ugh reading. Storage, hmm not bad. Delivery isn’t hard. He refuses to clean after the slobs here.

“I’m up for anything that has heavy work, no reading or cleaning, thanks.”

He curtly informed his soon to be boss. The suited man huffed and opened up his desk drawer for a notepad.

“Sign these and we’ll get you started. Deliveries should be fine, no?”

Garou picked up a pen and signed away, paper after paper. Who knew FedEx had so many policies?

After providing enough details on the notepad and filling up all of the consent forms, Garou stood up, pushing his chair back slightly. He went to turn the knob of the little office door but was halted by the voice of the man, or should he say, his new boss.

“I’ll have my assistant bring you your uniform, also get rid of the hair. It won’t fit in the hat…”

Garou turned the knob exiting the office and strode out into the garage. A small man walked up to him with a transparent bag of clothes, hiding his face behind it. The only thing he could completely discern about the boy was his name written on the tag near his breast pocket, Ibiki.

“Here is your uniform. When you come back tomorrow, we’ll make a name tag for you.”

The cheery, blushing boy spoke, informing Garou of what he needs to do next. Taking the packet from his hands, Garou asked for a bag to put his new clothes in.

Ibiki scurried off to find a bag and retrieved an empty white one, filling it with the plastic packet.

“Thanks.”

Garou was about to walk out when he heard the kid call out to him.

“Hey Mister! You forgot to take our card. You’ll need the bosses number. See, right here. And this one’s mine!”

Ibiki pointed out the two separate cell numbers and Garou nodded. Ibiki placed a shaky hand on Garou’s shoulder and patted the spot, saying something along the lines of 'you’ll love working with us!’. Whatever, he doesn’t care, all he wanted to do was make your life a little bit easier.

>>

You had arrived home an hour ago, Garou nowhere in sight. You decided to shower and read a book while you waited for him to come home. You had already purchased lunch for the two of you on your way back, deciding that the contents in your fridge weren’t good enough to work with.

After Garou had shown up, things had turned for the better. It seemed like he brought you good luck wherever you went. You could recall the time when Garou wasn’t with you, and frankly, they weren’t the best. He made your life a lot more interesting than what it was before.

Standing up and stretching, you trailed towards your bedroom with your book in hand, opting to lay down comfortably and read. An hour and a half had passed and there was still no sign of Garou. But you had forgotten all about that. You munched on some chips in bed, flipping through the pages of your book, so immersed in it that your ears hadn’t caught the sound of your front door opening.

Garou walked into your shared home, taking off the jacket and scarf and hanging it behind the door. The bag which held his new uniform was hung in the wall closet in the living room. He washed himself up and looked around, expecting you to not be here as usual, but something caught his eye. Your work shoes! Weren’t you wearing these today?

Wait were you home…?

He looked around the house, checking each each and every room when he finally decided to check your bedroom.

Opening the door, he waltzed in, his eyes perceived you on your bed, laying on your stomach with your eyes glued to the book in your hand, potato chip hanging from your lips.

You still hadn’t noticed him in the room and he fully took advantage of that. Creeping around the edge of the bed, he stopped momentarily behind you. He licked his lips at the sight of your butt, clad in tight, black trousers. Without warning, he jumped onto you, his hips landing right on top of your ample behind, rough, trained hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You yelped in surprise, book flying across the bed as you jumped, or tried to, out of the way.

“W-where did you come from?!”

Your face twisted in annoyance as you asked.

“I should be asking you that. What are you doing home?”

Garou laid himself on top of you, his sharp chin resting on your head and fingers tightly grasping the mattress under you.

“I have the whole day off today! Now, will you please get off?”

Garou chuckled in excitement at your words, arms coming around to flip you over onto his chest as he turned himself over on his back.

“Never.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, relaxing down onto him.

“So, where were you this fine morning?”

Your question had not been answered for several seconds and you asked him again.

“Garou, where did you go?”

You turned around, still obove him, your chest to his. You gave him a questioning look, gesturing him to speak.

“Out.”

You quirked a brow, expression unamused.

“I know that!”

He sat up and hugged you, his sharp nose buried between you shoulder and neck, kissing the skin.

“With a friend.”

Garou said, eyes coming up to look at you, waiting for a response.

“Oh really? You have friends?”

He nodded hesitantly, avoiding direct eye contact.

Ok then, he was being weird… But you didn’t want to pry. What he does while he’s out is his business, there’s probably nothing to worry about. Its not like he’s cheating on you or anything, no, he would never do that, he’s not that kind of man.

>>

HE’S THAT KIND OF MAN!

How could he? I-, You- How?! You were just coming home early from work. Turns out your new position didn’t require you to stay for long hours like before, so you just opted to come home. You had to take the long way around this time, passing by all of the urban workshops and postal firms because your normal road was being repaired. You passed by a FedEx warehouse and you could’ve sworn you saw silver hair and a gorgeous body, belonging to none other than Garou.

That was him for sure! Oh, when you get your hands on him…

You stomped your foot in anger at the scene unfolding before you. Garou, undressing in the wide open garage, taking off the clothes you had bought for him, to put on some drab brown and black shirt and pants. A small man hanging off from his shoulder as Garou walked to the desk to…collect something? What is that…?

The fragile looking boy next to him stopped in front of his chest and took what seemed to be a small card and clipped it to the front of Garou’s shirt. He beamed at Garou and your boyfriend turned to pick up the boxes that were strewn around the warehouse and pack them into individual trucks.

Wait a second. Was he working? Garou was working! Ohhh, of course! Yeah, you never doubted him for a second…

You strolled towards them, unknown to the two inside the dark garage, hiding behind the tall stack of boxes. Playfully walking up behind him, the small man gently tapped Garou on the shoulder. He turned around, large boxes still in hand, obscuring his vision.

“What do ya’ want now, Ibiki?!”

Garou’s sudden outburst scared the young man accompanying him, making him jump back frightened.

“The uh… b-boss wanted to umm… know if you could work overtime. Y-you’ll be payed…”

Answered the trembling voice of 'Ibiki’.

“No, I got better things waiting for me at home…”

Garou’s soft answer made you tear up somewhat, and you smiled very gently. Turning your heel, you trecked back home to wait for him. Oh, you might as well set up a surprise for him!

And so, you sneaked away, racing home to start setting up decorations for your hard working man.

>>

It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when Garou had finally walked through the front door of your shared home. He let out a relaxed sigh and carefully hung his hat behind the wooden door rack and stretched. His shows had already been discarded near the doormat as he made his way over to the bathroom, passing by the living room decorated with fairy lights and a blanket fort.

Wait a second, fairy lights and a fort?! Did he walk into the wrong house?

He came closer to the blankets sprawled across the floor, getting on his knees and picking one up to inspect it, not expecting you to be under it waiting for him.

“SURPRISE!”

You jumped out from under all of the pillows and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheeks.

“What’s all this? Yer’ home early again?”

Garou questioned, a confused expression on his handsome face.

“A surprise for you, duh…”

He smirked and coyly slid his arms under your legs, picking you up and setting you down onto his lap.

“No, really? What’s the occasion?”

You gave him a look as if saying, 'seriously?’

“Well, I was walking home from work and I couldn’t take my usual route. I walked past a few shops and I saw you…working. I was so surprised…”

Your voice got quieter as it neared the end and you awkwardly twiddled your thumbs, eyes casted downwards.

“Garou, why…why didn’t you just tell me you got a job?”

Garou let out a huff and ran his fingers through your hair. He looked deep into your eyes and cast you a cute little blush.

“W-well, I know how ya’ kinda freak out when I do…anything so I didn’t say nothin’. I just wanted to help out, ya’ get so tired after comin’ home. I ain’t gonna sit around and watch ya’ work yer’ ass off for me…”

Your fingers gently caressed his face, bringing it closer to yours.

“Garou, the reason I’m so tired after coming home is because I’m still adjusting to my new post at the office. I got promoted and I promise, once I get the hang of it, I won’t be tired at all.”

Garou’s mouth enveloped yours in a sweet exchange, hands roaming your hips.

“I’m really proud of you though…”

Garou broke into a genuine smile, no teasing smirk or smug grin. A genuine stretch of his lips.

“And what do you mean I kind of freak out? I do not!”

You pouted on his lap, crossing your arms and looking to the side.

“Ya’ just planned a surprise for me…”

You blushed and pulled his cheeks.

“Hey, this doesn’t count!”

He chuckled and smirked as you climbed off of his lap and onto the ground below.

“Now take off your clothes and get in here!”

>>

The rest of the afternoon was spent in bliss under a large warm blanket. The two of you lovingly cuddling together, watching movies and talking about Garou’s new workmates.

“So, this Ibiki kid follows me around everywhere, it’s kinda annoying to be honest.”

You laughed at his statement and pointed a finger at his chest.

“Well, he probably likes you. You are very handsome…”

He smirked and gave you a suggestive look, pulling your body closer to his under the blanket.

“Too bad I’m not available, right?”

You giggled at his response, snuggling into his warmth.

“Yes, too bad indeed…”

Giving you one last loving look, Garou kissed you passionately, his fingers caressing your cheek. Your own hand laid gently on his cheek, lips tightly locked with his.

Separating, the two of you breathed heavily and smiled.

“I love you…”

Garou softly admitted, giving you another one of his glorious genuine grins.

You happily blushed, hugging him close and whispered.

“I love you too. So much…”

And with that Garou kissed you again, feverishly, pulling the blanket above your heads, ready to take you to heaven.

It really couldn’t get better than this…

_________________________________________

[pyrobane-fandom-space]

Significant Strides in Relations

Author: Merlyn Bane

Word Count: 10.3K (shut up, don't @ me okay)

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi manages to catch the attention of his attache on a diplomatic mission.

Warnings: Adult Content™. Strong language, smut. Virgin!Obi I guess. Unprotected sex--wrap it up!

A/N: Did I come back from the dead just to post some completely self-indulgent bullshit? Yes I did. This is like 3.7K worth of smut with like 5K worth of justification and like 1K of Skywalker bullshit at the end and I'm not sorry about any of it. I would also just like to blame @no-droids and their Open Door series for giving me a Thing for Obi-Wan in the first place.

(gif found on google, not mine)

You want to fuck the Jedi.

And, yeah, sure, you feel a little bit bad about it. You know enough about the Order to know that that's something the Jedi don't do--if the poor man knew the direction your thoughts had taken, he'd probably be scandalized. You can clearly imagine his face turning, just, scarlet, especially because you do mean fuck. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi is visiting your planet on a diplomatic mission that you haven't been briefed on the particulars of, and you've been assigned to him as an attaché during his stay--tending to his needs, making sure he's comfortable while he's here. It's a function you've performed many, many times as part of your duties to the royal family, but Kenobi has been...particularly pleasant, to work with. The Jedi is kind, treats you like an equal even though you're technically working for him for the time being, and he's funny. You hadn't realized the Jedi were allowed a sense of humor, but Maker, this one is sarcastic, constantly teasing with a playful glint in his blue eyes that is...not helping you with the whole 'wanting to irredeemably corrupt him' problem that you're currently having. 

You show up at his quarters just before breakfast to collect him as you have for the last two days and he's already there waiting for you, opening the door just as you're coming to a stop in front of it.  Kenobi gives you a gracious smile as he steps into the hallway with you, letting the door slide closed behind him, and you return it before turning to start making your way to the dining hall. He falls in step next to you and despite the fact that he really isn't walking that close to you, you swear you can feel him there. "Good morning, young one." 

You snort softly, scrunching your nose up as you give him an unimpressed side-eye. "Young one? You realize I'm within five years of you? I think you spend too much time with your old padawan and not enough with your peers, Kenobi."

The Jedi chuckles next to you, looking suitably sheepish as he grins over at you. "My apologies, my lady," he says, and you can tell that he's teasing you lightly. You roll your eyes but don't correct him--no, instead you internalize it, and his innocent my lady gets cataloged away with the rest of the impure thoughts that have been plaguing you since you saw him in the great hall upon his arrival. "I meant no offense."

"None was taken."

The conversation sort of just...drifts off, and you take the time to study his features out of the corner of your eye while he's looking ahead. The Jedi is...handsome, and frankly you think it's very unfair of the Order to lock all of that up under a chastity vow. The lines of his face are classical, look like they could have been carved from marble--only accentuated by the scruff of the beard lining a jaw you kind of want to sink your teeth into. 

And, Maker. His eyes. The clearest crystal blue, like twin glaciers, piercing directly into your soul every time you meet them but...gentle. Always gentle. You know he's as talented a warrior as he is a negotiator, you've heard the stories, but you would never know it from his pretty eyes. 

"What are your plans for the day, Master Kenobi? Since there won't be any official matters taking place today." It's the third day of the week, and on your planet it is considered inappropriate to do such work then. Most of your people will be in services today, to include the royal family. You probably should be, but you had offered to stay behind and continue to assist the Jedi--you've never cared for such things, anyway, and you certainly think he makes for better company.

Kenobi turns his head just enough to give you a small smile before he looks forward again, humming softly as he considers his answer. "I will likely confer with the Council this afternoon, update them on how the negotiations are going. Perhaps I will take some time to meditate, as well. You may have most of the day to yourself." It's quiet for a moment, then: "And you may just call me Obi-Wan, if you wish."

Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan--

It does not escape your attention that this isn't an offer that was even extended to your employers, who he's supposed to be here on the sole purpose of brokering an agreement with. They've still been using titles with each other, you know they have. Fuck. "Obi-Wan," you repeat, hoping that it escapes his notice how much you find that you like the way it feels on your tongue. Obi-Wan. "If you find you have the time, later, maybe I could show you around a little more. There are some places on the palace grounds I think you might enjoy."

The Jedi hums again, and you can see that he's still smiling when you look over at him. "I will certainly keep that in mind."

You reach the dining hall only a few minutes later, and go your separate ways once you've gotten your food. You find a seat at one of the far tables tucked into a corner that's already populated by a couple of your fellow staff members, making sure to sit so that you're facing him so he can get your attention if he needs it. You're being elbowed almost the second your ass hits the seat, the girl to your left clearly desperate for whatever gossip she thinks you have as she leans in and whispers at you in hushed tones. 

"Maker, you've got a dreamy one. You're so lucky, I was assigned to--"

You're not even listening, not really--tuning her out while you tuck into your breakfast. You suppose you don't have any real right to be so annoyed with her, truthfully, given that you've been having similar thoughts about him yourself all morning and for most of the last couple of days, but you find that you are anyway. The girl doesn't even seem to realize that you're ignoring her, continuing to chatter at you until one of the other people at your table manages to redirect her attention, if not the subject. 

 You tell yourself that the reason your attention stays focused on the Jedi is in case he needs you for anything but you're not very convincing, even to yourself. Your mind wanders while you eat, formulating scenarios that all seem to end with Obi-Wan between your thighs. Most of these thoughts are generally nonsensical, idle flashes and half-strung together images, but some of them come through with alarming clarity. 

I want to suck his cock.

The Jedi suddenly chokes on whatever it is he's just eaten. 

You instinctively shift to stand up to try and help him but his companion is already there, smacking his back with more force than you think is probably necessary and laughing loudly enough that you can hear him from your table. Skywalker, you think his name is. He's still chuckling when they settle back down, despite the thoroughly unamused looks Obi-Wan is shooting him. You snort quietly to yourself and Skywalker turns his head to look at you like he can sense your eyes on them. Your eyes meet for a second, two, and then to your horror he winks at you.

Your stomach sinks. No. No, no. No. He's just winking at you because he caught you looking over at them, right? Jedi can't. Jedi can't read minds, right? Surely not. The younger Jedi raises an eyebrow at you, the edge of his lip curving into what can only be called a smirk, and you really. Just need the ground to open up and swallow you whole right here. Maker. You're going to have to work with Obi-Wan for the next couple of days--how the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eyes, now, knowing that he's heard you this entire time? 

 Breakfast passes both entirely too quickly and not near quickly enough, and before you know it, both Jedi are getting to their feet. You curse quietly under your breath and stand yourself, disposing of your tray before you manage to make yourself walk back over to join them. You still have a job to do, regardless of whether or not you want to dig yourself a nice deep hole to die in right now. You do your best to force a smile once you reach them, really trying your absolute hardest to pretend that none of...that, had just happened. Like you haven't been caught lusting over Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi by the man himself. 

Skywalker is the first to speak, that Maker-forsaken grin still plastered firmly in place on his face when he does. "Hello,"

You think he's having entirely too much fucking fun with this, frankly. 

Obi-Wan seems to agree with you, if the look he gives his companion then is anything to go by. You swallow, doing your best to reign in your composure as you raise a hand to wave at him in response before turning back to the man you're supposed to be assisting. "Are you--" you pause, clearing your throat before continuing. "Are you ready to return to your rooms?"

Maker. Maker. Why did you have to say--

"Quite," Obi-Wan answers before you can stutter out an apology, giving Skywalker what can only be described as a warning look before he turns back to follow you. Your gaze stays all but permanently affixed to the floor as you start making your way down the hall, the only thing indicating that he's still beside you the sound of his boots on the tile. 

You can feel his eyes on you when you reach his door but you still can't bring yourself to meet them, clearing your throat awkwardly and folding your hands behind your back in a bid to stop yourself from picking at your thumbnail from the nervous energy that's suddenly coursing through your body. "I. I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day," you manage to stutter out, taking your leave before he can say anything to stop you.

You end up having a couple of hours to yourself to stew in the privacy of your own room before anyone comes for you. 

You groan quietly when you hear the knock at your door but haul yourself to your feet and make your way over anyway, pushing your hair out of your face. You frown minutely when you find one of your coworkers standing there. Kaljova--she's assigned to Skywalker, if you recall correctly. She seems vaguely concerned with the state you're in but is kind enough not to comment on it, giving you a polite smile instead. "Master Kenobi has asked for you," Kaljova tells you, and has the grace to pretend to not notice the way your face falls with it. 

"Do you know what he needs?" you ask her, blessedly managing to keep your voice even. You reach down to grab your cloak from the table by your door and tie it around your shoulders without waiting for her to actually answer, stepping out into the hallway and letting your door close behind you. 

She shakes her head, shrugging a little bit. "Master Skywalker didn't say, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, sighing softly but giving her a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay. Thank you for letting me know."

She returns your smile and nods once before she turns around and leaves you to your own devices again. You groan quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose as you work up the nerve to actually make your way to the visiting diplomat wing where you know he's waiting for you. It takes you a couple of minutes but you do manage to make your feet move eventually and they carry you there far faster than you'd have liked them to. 

You swallow harshly and close your eyes for a second before reaching up to knock on his door, bracing yourself. Maker, he probably wants to talk about it, clear the air or whatever, and you are just...absolutely not even a little bit equipped to deal with that right now, frankly. You're able to school your features as the door slides open but just barely, and you stop breathing altogether when you look up and meet those pretty blue eyes. 

And he seems...surprised to see you. 

That kriffing--

"You...didn't send for me, did you?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head, looking more confused if possible, and you just sigh quietly, giving him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I think there was a...miscommunication." And I'm going to kill your fucking padawan. "I'll just--I'll just go." You raise a hand in a very awkward not-wave and turn on your heel to go, but then.

The Jedi gently grabs you by the elbow, and everything stops for a moment. 

Goddammit.

"Wait," Obi-Wan says, softly--like he's trying not to spook you. You take a deep, stuttering breath, and sigh it out, relaxing where you stand as you give up on getting out of this. "I believe...it would be a good idea, if we talked."

Yeah, that's. That's pretty much what you figured, unfortunately. 

"I'm very sorry, if I made you uncomfortable, I...I didn't know you could--" Didn't know you could hear me. 

"I know," he tells you, just as gently as before, and you reluctantly turn just enough to be able to face him. His eyes are soft when they regard you, and you find your breathing evening out despite yourself--wondering idly how much of it is actively his doing. "Just...come inside. Please."

You can't find it in yourself to deny him so you nod, letting him lead you into the room and trying to pretend that you can't feel your heart stop when the door slides shut behind you. Obi-Wan seems to notice you not knowing what to do with yourself because he gestures to one of the chairs in the sitting area, sitting down in the one opposite it once you're settled. It's quiet for a moment as both of you seem to search for the right words. 

"I would like to begin by apologizing for Anakin," he says finally, and you snort as the words register.  He gives you a wry smile in return, and continues. "He means well, but he can be...thoughtless, in his humor, at times. Particularly when it is at my expense."

"He sounds like he must have been a joy to train."

That earns you an almost startled sounding laugh out of the Jedi, which manages to get a real smile out of you. "I fear he may have also misled you, to an extent." He tells you, not quite meeting your eyes now as he scratches at his beard. You give him a questioning look and he sighs softly, leaning back in his chair. "We...can hear thoughts, but only if we go looking and it is considered very inappropriate to do so without reason."

You feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, then, and you tilt your head at him. "But you…?"

Obi-Wan winces, and nods. "You may have...projected, this morning, inadvertently. It was...rather loud, and my guards were not as firmly in place as they probably should have been."

Oh. So you'd shouted it at him, then. Great. "Oh."

"I had...gotten a sense of the direction of your thoughts, before that, but you were acting very professionally so thought it best to pay it no mind."

That's...very kind of him, actually, to have simply ignored it even though it must have made him uncomfortable, especially when he so easily could have just told you to knock it off or requested a different attache. You clear your throat, finding yourself picking at your thumbnail again. "I appreciate that."

"You needn't be embarrassed, you know." the Jedi murmurs softly, and you look up to meet his gaze despite yourself. He smiles at you a little bit, then, and it brings something very warm into those blue eyes of his that almost makes you just a little lightheaded. "These things happen. You're only human, you can't be expected to have complete control of your thoughts all the time."

"You do," you point out, just because you feel the need to. "Jedi do. So I'm told."

"We spend our whole lives learning to try." he amends, and there's something so human in the way that he grins that suddenly, all you want to do is lean over and kiss him. "It is a constant exercise, not a skill that can be mastered."

"Still. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable this week."

"Uncomfortable might not be the right word for it, speaking truthfully," Obi-Wan admits, so quietly that you're almost not even sure he's really said it at all. And--Maker, is he implying what it sounds like he's implying? You know your eyes must be just about bugging out of your head with the shock but he mercifully either doesn't notice or pretends not to, scratching at his beard again as he seems to consider his next words, and you...really need him to stop doing that. It's becoming hard enough to maintain your focus as it is. "There were times where I was perhaps...tempted."

You stare at him, blankly, blinking slowly as the words process. Tempted tempted tempted-- "I thought Jedi couldn't…"

Obi-Wan clears his throat, and suddenly he's the one looking unsettled. "Technically, the Code prohibits intimacy, attachment. It...says nothing about the act itself."

Oh. Oh.  

You're still staring at him, just completely dumbstruck, so the Jedi seems to decide to take it upon himself to continue talking and fill the space. "For most of us it ends with the same result, functionally, but. Technically." 

Maker, get it together. You feel like you're on a several second delay, having great difficulty processing this new information, let alone giving him the verbal response to it that he's clearly waiting for, now. "Have you--"

"Almost. Once. When I was a padawan myself. My master and I were stationed on Mandalore at the time, assigned to protect the Duchess." 

You're grinning, now, you can feel it tugging at the edges of your mouth. Maker, you suddenly need to know this story like you need to breathe. "What happened?"

Stars, you swear you can see the tips of his ears turn red. "Qui-Gon caught us. It has...certainly dissuaded me from making any attempts since."

You laugh. You can't help it. Suddenly you're laughing so hard it nearly hurts, grasping your middle with one hand while wiping tears from your eyes with the other. You would feel worse about it if Obi-Wan didn't look so amused himself. "Oh, you poor thing." you snort before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and you feel your own face heat when you realize the implication of what you've just said to him. Way to go, Ace. 

Except...he's still grinning at you, amusement dancing in those blue eyes, and all the air seems to rush out of the room when they lock on your own. Kriff. "Are you suggesting that I'm missing out, then?"

He's teasing you, the bastard, and all of sudden it makes you feel bold. You lean forward in your chair, then, resting your elbows on your knees as you encroach on his space and pull your lower lip between your teeth.. "I'm not suggesting anything, Master Kenobi," you all but purr at him, "but should you be interested in finding out for yourself…"

The offer hangs in the air between you, then, like a lit fuse while you just stare at each other, both waiting to see if the other will make the next move.  

"And what might this...demonstration...entail?"

"Nothing you aren't completely on board with," you tell him immediately, because if this happens--Maker, if--it is absolutely imperative to you that he enjoys himself just as much as you do. Which...gives you an idea, actually. "I make sure my partners have a good time. Haven't done my job if they don't."

Fuck, the Jedi's eyes are blown. His pupils have nearly overtaken those pretty blue irises and it makes your breath catch with how much you want to ruin him. You can feel the tension rising in the room between you, feeding on and feeding into your arousal in a vicious cycle. He swallows, and you watch his Adam's apple bob with it and narrowly resist the urge to bite him. "Oh?"

Kriff, you need to leave before you fuck him right here and ruin your plans. You give him a small, soft smile and stand, padding over to him. His eyes track each movement, his head tilting back to gaze up at you when you come to stand between his knees, and you can see how ragged his breathing's gone at the sudden proximity. You reach out and let your palm wrap around the line of his jaw, your fingernails scratching lightly through the coarse hairs of his beard, and the Jedi's eyes fall closed before you even lean in. He gasps when your mouth brushes against his own, the faintest whisper of a kiss, and your smile widens. "I think, that you deserve to be seduced properly, Obi-Wan," you breathe. "I'm not going to fuck you, Baby, not just yet. When you really want it--then I'll give it to you."

 It takes several seconds before he's able to get words out again, and when he does you can barely hear what he's saying from the rasp in them. "I think, my lady," he pants, "that you are being exceedingly cruel."

You chuckle softly, letting your thumb brush across his lower lip before you straighten up and take a step back, ignoring the almost whine that escapes his throat when you do. "Perhaps."

For the rest of the evening, you act as normal--as if none of the events of the day had taken place. You meet with Obi-Wan and escort him to the dining hall for dinner as usual and go your separate ways once your trays are piled high. You do your best to resist the urge to glare daggers at the other Jedi, particularly when he grins and waves at you, but you are able to content yourself with the sharp look Obi-Wan gives him for it as he sits down. Dinner is uneventful despite Skywalker's best efforts, and passes quickly. You give Obi-Wan this time to...come down, essentially, to gather his wits back about him before you really set your plans into motion in the morning. You had left the Jedi absolutely wrecked this afternoon, and not only do you think it would be just a little unfair to begin your seduction in such a state, you're a little concerned that you might actually kill him if you overwhelm him so much all at once. So, you give him time to breathe. 

Or at least, that is your intent. 

The sudden drop almost seems to have the opposite effect. Obi-Wan's composure is, outwardly, as impeccable as always. No-one but you and Skywalker--you're sure--would be able to tell that anything's up. The only reason you do is because you still can't take your eyes off him so you notice the way his haven't left you, either. And, Maker, the way he looks at you. You almost want to give in, drag him back to his rooms now, but. You meant it earlier, when you said you thought he deserved better than that. The concept of virginity as a special thing is not one you've ever particularly put much stock in, yourself, but you know that this is, will be, a big deal for him whether he's willing to admit it or not. You want to give him at least this much. He might not be allowed true intimacy or emotional attachment, but that doesn't mean the sex has to be careless. You meant it, when you told him that you take care of your partners.  

The next day, you start slow. Obi-Wan is actually fairly busy with the diplomatic mission he'd been sent here on in the first place, which makes that relatively simple. The only time you really get with him that morning is when you're escorting him to and from meetings, so you spend that time finding excuses to touch him. Subtle things, like adjusting already-straight the collar of his robes. 

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," 

The Jedi steps out into the hall with you and lets the door close behind him, returning your greeting with an easy grin that makes your heart skip a beat. "Good morning. Where are we off too?"

"You have a meeting with the Chancellor, first. It'll be long and likely boring assuming Skywalker behaves himself, but productive." You give him a soft smile, stepping forward and looking up at him from under your lashes. He watches you intently, almost seeming to stop breathing for a second when you reach up and adjust the tan collar of his robes, your fingertips brushing lightly against the skin of his throat when you do. You let the moment linger a second longer than it needs to before you step back to a respectful distance and nod down the hallway. "Shall we?"

Brushing his hair out of his face when it's fallen into his eyes.

Obi-Wan looks about as tired as you expect him to when he comes out of his meeting a couple of hours later but he has a small smile for you when he sees you waiting for him in the hallway anyway. Skywalker follows him through the door seconds later but barely pays either of you any mind, grumbling something about breakfast as he follows Kaljova down the hall. The two of you stand there for another moment, glancing at each other and chuckling at the younger Jedi's irritation, and you notice idly that some of his blond hair's managed to fall out of place. You reach up to brush it back out of his eyes and bite your lip when they zero in on your own, and you find yourself leaning in further before you can stop yourself only for you to jump apart when the door slides open again. The Chancellor gives you both a polite nod as he takes his leave, completely unaware of what he'd interrupted, and you have to shake your head to clear it once he's out of sight. You can still feel the Jedi's eyes on you when you turn to make your way to the dining hall.

It continues this way, more or less, until lunch, when you decide to kick it up a notch going into the afternoon. You remember what he told you about being able to pick up on your feelings, at least in a general sense, whether he went looking for them or not so you decide to lean into that and let your mind run wild with the things you want to do to him. You're careful not to project any particulars at him this time but you can tell that he definitely takes notice when you start letting your thoughts wander. 

You're still sitting in the dining hall at your separate tables, and you smirk lightly when his eyes snap up, watching them narrow when he realizes what you're doing. You maintain that eye contact shamelessly, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you try to imagine what's waiting for you underneath those robes. Skywalker's glancing back and forth between you and grinning but Obi-Wan ignores him completely, raising an eyebrow in your direction that you merely shrug at. You see him shift slightly in his seat after a little while of this and decide to lay off a bit--for now, at least. 

Obi-Wan has to consult with the Jedi Council after lunch so you decide to have some mercy on him immediately leading up to that and take a break from your little game. You're sure he's still aware of the arousal boiling low in your belly while you walk him back to his rooms after lunch but you're not actively focusing on it now, letting yourself relax and the Jedi by extension. 

It's during dinner that evening that you really kick it into high gear. 

You're not even fully sure this is going to work, since you've only ever done it once and by accident, but watching Obi-Wan converse with Skywalker at their table, you know you want to try. So you focus your attention on the Jedi, and hone in on the thought of what you think it might be like to kiss him until you see him stiffen and you know he's got it. You keep going, feeding him different images that only grow more explicit as you grow bolder. Sucking and biting bruises into the skin of his throat and chest while you grind down against his cock. Looking right into his pretty blue eyes while you stroke that cock, watching him come apart when you finally take it into your mouth like you've wanted to do practically since you laid eyes on him. Riding him, burying your hands in his hair and swallowing his moans while you bounce in his lap. 

Obi-Wan grits his teeth across the dining hall, gripping the edge of the table he's sitting at tightly and pointedly not looking at you while he tries to regain control of his breathing. Skywalker is staring at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed in total shock, and you only smirk back at him in response as you let the projection drop. You didn't necessarily want the other Jedi to see those things, truthfully, but you don't know how to control the projection well enough to block him out and he's been enough of a dick about the whole thing this week that you really don't feel all that badly about the fact that he looks like he kind of wants to bleach his brain, now. 

You simply go back to your meal once you've dropped the projection, though you can't help the small grin that stays plastered on your face. The next few minutes pass that way, but then.

But then.

Well, projection goes both ways.

It feels sort of like a tickle, at first, at the edge of your mind--easily ignored. Then it turns into a gentle prodding, and when you look up to confirm your suspicions, his blue eyes are locked firmly on yours and it takes your breath away. He's...being remarkably gentle with you, knowing that no-one's ever been in your head before like this, waiting for you to relax and let him in in a complete roll reversal that shocks you. You barely manage to contain the gasp when you do, because he's suddenly pushing images back at you. Obi-Wan thinks back to how your fingers had felt in his hair this morning, and then reimagines that feeling with you in his lap, tangled in his hair while you kiss him. Then, fuck. With his head between your thighs. He stops and focuses in on this one, imagining as many details as he can manage as he pushes it to you. Your hands pulling on the blond strands while his grip your thighs, holding you open as his tongue laves through the folds of your cunt. 

The moment feels like a tipping point, and both of you know exactly what is going to happen once this meal is over. 

You're so pent up and aroused when it's finally time to leave that you're lightheaded with it but somehow you manage to get to your feet anyway, and thankfully you don't end up having to deal with Skywalker at all because Obi-Wan is out of his seat first this time and meets you halfway. There's something in the air between you, something tense and charged, and you know you need to get him back to his rooms now. He seems to be on the same page because he wastes no time in following you out of the dining hall, and his strides are longer enough than usual that you actually struggle just a little bit to keep up. 

And there's something so…juvenile about this, rushing off and sneaking around, but it's...fun. You feel almost like a teenager again, truthfully, so eager to get him alone somewhere private so you can get your hands on him that you're all but running down the hallway to get there. 

You're on the Jedi the moment the door closes behind you but he's right there with you, pulling you in for a kiss that's all enthusiasm and little finesse but heats your blood anyway. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you tug him closer and he moans with it, his own hands finding your face and framing it gently. You run the tip of your tongue along his lower lip and press forward when his mouth opens into it on a gasp, licking into his mouth until he has to pull away to breathe. 

Maker, he already looks a mess; beautifully flushed with his hair all askew and his pupils blown wide. It makes you want to do, just, unspeakable things, but you know you still have to take your time and ease him into it or this will all be over too fast and you can't have that.  

"Go...go sit on the bed," you murmur, putting a hand on his chest as you step back and take a second to try and get your wits back about you. "Take your boots off. And your cloak."

And, Kriff, he does it immediately, nodding at you with that just fucking wrecked look in his eyes before he turns to do exactly what you told him, laying his cloak over the back of one of the chairs and padding over to the bed where he sits on the edge before leaning over to take his boots off. You watch him the whole time, almost high on the heady feeling that comes with this hyper-competent Jedi Master doing whatever you tell him to. 

You take your time in joining him, partially to tease and partially just because you need those extra few moments. His eyes track every movement as you remove your own cloak, laying it next to his as you toe your shoes off, and you give him a small smile as you make your way over to the bed. Obi-Wan's breath hitches when you climb up onto it and seems to stop altogether when you carefully settle yourself on his lap, his hands fisting at his sides until you reach down to take them gently and guide them to your waist. "You can touch me," you purr, running your nose along the line of his jaw and grinning to yourself when his grip suddenly tightens with it. "It's encouraged, in fact."

He snorts quietly, so breathily that you almost miss it, and starts rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs. "Noted," he rasps, and you grin wider before you press a kiss just under his jaw. The Jedi shivers with it and the reaction emboldens you so you continue downward, pressing kisses along his skin until you reach the collar of his robe and then you're working at the belt of his robes, eager to get at more of his skin. Obi-Wan seems to still have enough presence of mind to help you, shrugging out of the first two layers once you're able to get them open and discarding them to the side carelessly. You reluctantly have to pull back so you can yank his undershirt over his head but then his whole torso is exposed for your viewing pleasure, so you decide you're alright with the short interruption. 

"See something you like?" Obi-Wan quips breathlessly after a few seconds of you shamelessly studying every line and pane of his chest and you only smirk at him an answer, leaning back in his lap to get a better view and darting your tongue out to wet your lower lip. 

"What are the odds of anyone seeing you without the robes?"

His eyebrows knit together momentarily like he doesn't know what you're asking, but he seems to put the pieces together when you suddenly duck back down and lick a broad stripe along the line of his collarbone. His hips jerk up with a broken moan before he's able to manage an answer, his head tilting back and further exposing his throat. "Un-unlikely," he gasps out, and you're grinning again as you start pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses lower until you find a spot on his pec that pleases you and you stop and suck. The Jedi gasps raggedly, his fingers digging into your waist as he tries to ground himself, but you don't stop until you know a bruise will bloom there. "Something to remember you by?" he hisses, and you chuckle softly as you trace the round little blemish with the tip of your finger. 

"Oh, Baby, I don't think you're going to have any difficulty with that with or without a few little...reminders." 

Obi-Wan moans again, low in his throat, when you start pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his chest, gasping out and trembling the first time you let him feel teeth. His hips buck again and then it's your turn to gasp when his cock rubs right up against your cunt--already so, so hard. And, Maker, it is not a small bulge. What's he hiding under all of those neutral fabrics? You leave a meandering line of bites and hickeys all the way down his chest, ignoring the way he whines when you shift back off of his lap so you can continue down to his stomach. He leans back on his palms, then, watching you intently with dark eyes that make your pussy clench between your thighs, and his breath catches in his throat when your hands find the ties of his trousers. "What are you--"

"Told you I wanted to suck your cock," you remind him, biting your lip as you start undoing them--slowly enough to give him ample opportunity to stop you if he wants. "That alright with you?"

The Jedi nods mutely, suddenly seeming at a loss for words, and you smirk as you sit back on your knees and start pulling them down his thighs until he springs free, and--

Kriff--how fucking dare the Order deprive the galaxy of this magnificent cock? 

He's not the longest you've ever seen, per se, but he's thick enough that you almost wonder how you're going to take this thing and beautifully flushed, with defined veins that you just know are going to feel incredible inside you. You lean in to lick a stripe right up the underside of it before you can stop yourself and Obi-Wan cries out at the sudden stimulation and shakes, falling backwards onto his back. You moan softly at the response you pull out of him and lean up until you're able to take the head into your mouth, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut and grips the bedspread until his knuckles go white and unravels. "Watch me," you tell him, taking him in your palm and pumping slowly while you wait for him to respond, "Wanna see those pretty blue eyes."

He forces them open just like you told him to, keeping them trained on you as he bites down on his lower lip and takes a shaky breath and you take him into your mouth again, satisfied. He cries out again but a little quieter this time, and you hum around his cock as you start bobbing up and down on it slowly, almost teasingly so, holding his hips down as best you can so you control the pace. You definitely want to feel him come down the back of your throat at some point, but this isn't the time for that. You have every intent of him coming buried deep inside you tonight. 

It becomes something of a game, figuring out exactly what he likes. Hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tighter around him and moaning until he gasps. Teasing the slit at the top with the very tip of your tongue until you swear you hear him curse. And then you take him to the root.

And, Maker, he swears when he bottoms out and it shouldn't be so insanely hot hearing those words come from this ordinarily so well put-together Jedi but it is. You realize how close he's approaching his end so you reluctantly pull off of his cock, then, ignoring the whine that escapes from high in his throat when you do so. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand while you try and catch your breath, which is not made any easier by the way he's looking at you. You know you must look just as wrecked as he does, now, all flushed skin and swollen lips, but if you didn't know better you would genuinely think the man was about to eat you alive. "I think, my lady," he rasps finally, after several seconds of staring at each other, "that you may be slightly overdressed."

Kriff. You glance down at the tunic and trousers that you are, in fact, still wearing, before looking up to meet his eyes again. You maintain that eye contact as you sit back up on your knees, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you slowly start undoing the laces holding the top closed. Obi-Wan watches each movement like it's the most mesmerizing thing he's ever seen, pupils blown so wide they've almost completely obscured the blue. He groans quietly when the tunic slips from your shoulders, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip when your breasts come into full view. "Is that better?"

He shakes his head mutely, swallowing harshly as he seems to try to gather the words. "I want--may I--kriff, lay back. Please." His gaze follows you closely as you slowly lower yourself down onto your elbows, intensely curious what he's about to do. The Jedi takes a deep breath like he's steeling himself and then he's shifting forward until his body stretches over top of yours, kicking his trousers the rest of the way off in the process, and it's your turn to gasp when you feel his lips brush against the underside of your jaw. He's holding himself up enough that you can't necessarily feel him press against you, but Maker, you can certainly feel the heat coming off of him and his warm breath against your throat. "I believe it's my turn," he murmurs by way of explanation, chuckling softly when your next breath comes out ragged.

"You don't--you don't have to do that," you moan, and Stars--you mean it, you do, especially this first time, but you will be just absolutely fucking inconsolable if he changes his mind right now especially after he went and put the fucking image in your head during dinner earlier. 

He doesn't grace that with a verbal response but you're hardly complaining because he starts trailing kisses down the side of your neck instead, and Maker he must have been paying attention when you were doing this to him because you swear he's replicating the technique. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs lowly into the skin of your throat before nipping at it experimentally, listening to you gasp as he keeps talking. "Tell me how to please you, Darling."

His fingers find your nipple before you're able to even begin trying to formulate words and you cry out at the sudden stimulation, arching up into it. "F-Fuck, you're doing a pretty kriffing decent job already," you pant and he chuckles again, running his tongue along your collarbone like you'd done to him and moaning when he gets another ragged gasp for it. "Maker.  U-Use your m-mouth,"

You think for a second that he's going to make some smartass comment about how he already is, but mercifully Obi-Wan seems to know what you're asking him for and decides to be kind about it. He continues exploring your breasts with his hand while he returns his mouth to your throat, licking and sucking his way down the column of it until he reaches your sternum where he stops to suck a bruise into the skin. He gets you so worked up by the time he reaches your breasts that you almost don't realize how close he's gotten until those blue eyes are flickering up to meet yours and he's taking your nipple into the blazing hot cavern of his mouth. You open your mouth on a wordless shout and start to writhe under him but he's right there, both hands coming down to your hips to hold you in place as he laves his tongue around the stiffening peak. Obi-Wan focuses his attention on your breast until you're whimpering and then switches to the other, moaning around your nipple when your fingers tangle in his hair. 

"You like that, don't you?" you purr down at him, watching the Jedi through half-lidded eyes as he moans again in an affirmative. You pull, then, gently--experimentally, seeing if it's something he'll even like, and then he. Fucking bites you. "Fuck, Obi-Wan!" 

"About as much as you liked that," the asshole grins at you impishly as he pulls away from your breast, leaning in to kiss you before you can call him on it. His hands find the top of your trousers once you relax into it, and he leans back to look at you as his fingers dip into the waistband. "May I?"

He starts pulling them down as soon as you nod your consent, sitting back and watching as every inch of skin is revealed until he's removed them completely and he tosses them to the side with the rest of your clothes, leaving you totally bare in front of him. Obi-Wan just...sits there for a moment, taking you in, and you let him, relaxing back against the mattress and smiling up at him. 

"Beautiful," he breathes finally, returning your smile with a small one of his own before he's shifting down, keeping his eyes on yours as his lips brush against your hip. He reaches forward and runs one finger through the lips of your cunt lightly, almost teasingly, watching you gasp and try to grind down into it. "Would you like it if I tasted you here, Darling?" Obi-Wan hums, continuing to press kisses along your hip and the insides of your thighs while he waits for an answer and, Maker, the coarseness of his beard against the sensitive skin there robs you of all conscious thought. All you're able to manage is a nod because you're so strung out and you need him there right now but that seems to be enough for him because he starts leaning in, one hand on each of your thighs as he licks a broad stripe right through your cunt. 

Stars, you can't even form the words right now to talk him through this like he'd asked, but he...doesn't actually really seem to need your help, here. The Jedi focuses in on your clit right away, swirling his tongue around the little bud before he sucks it into the wet heat of his mouth and you nearly sob at how good it feels. "D-Doing so good, Baby," you manage to get out, and the words almost come out as more of a mewl as he hums around your clit, sending jolts right through you. 

You whine in protest when his mouth leaves your clit but his thumb replaces it soon after, rubbing slow circles around it like he's trying to drive you insane on purpose. And then, Maker, his tongue dips into your entrance, licking up inside you while all you can do is sob your pleasure into the air. He keeps going this way for several minutes, steadily working you higher and higher with his tongue buried in your cunt and his thumb strumming your clit until your thighs start to tremble and you feel that coil inside you start to wind tighter. Obi-Wan moans between your legs as when he realizes you're approaching your end and steps up his ministrations, his thumb picking up speed until your back arches underneath him. The orgasm burns its way through you, slow but intense, until you're nearly cross-eyed and delirious with it and he keeps working you through it until you're shaking with overstimulation and pushing his head away. 

The Jedi goes willingly when you push him back into a seated position once you've managed to regain your bearings, and Maker, he's a sight like this; his hair just hopelessly disheveled from your fingers in it and your slick coating his chin and kiss-swollen lips. You take a moment to just look at him, committing this image to memory for all of those nights after he leaves when you know you'll look back and picture this with your hand between your thighs. His hands find your hips as you crawl into his lap and settle there, squeezing gently and letting out a soft moan when you lean in to kiss him. Obi-Wan is the one that licks into your mouth this time, mimicking the way your tongue had tangled with his at the start of this until you're moaning into it. 

He gasps into the kiss when you reach down between you to take his cock in your hand, stroking it slowly while you shift in his lap and Stars, you swear the Jedi underneath you stops breathing entirely when you line him up and the head of his cock presses right up against your entrance. "Maker, please," he begs then on a broken moan, pulling out of the kiss to catch his breath but leaving his forehead pressed up against yours. He opens his eyes to hold your gaze intently as you start to sink down onto him, crying out at the fucking stretch of it. You take your time taking his cock, both for his benefit and your own, and the slow intrusion into your cunt has you shaking before he even bottoms out. 

"Fuck, you feel so f-fucking good," 

And it does. You have to take a minute to adjust once you've taken him to the root before you can move, gripping his shoulders tightly in an attempt to ground yourself, and his hands tighten on your hips in response. The Jedi looks like he might implode if you don't move so you take pity on him, sweeping him into another heated kiss as you roll your hips forward and swallowing his ragged gasp that escapes his throat. You keep the pace slow at first, steady, working yourself open and easing him into the motion and the way your pussy feels wrapped around his cock, and you manage to keep that pace for a few minutes until it becomes too much for both of you.

Obi-Wan's hips buck up at the same time your hips rock forward and you choke on a loud cry, throwing your head back when the head of his cock suddenly hits you right in the sweet spot. He seems to realize that you liked it because he does it again and again, his hands suddenly becoming vices around your hips as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep bouncing in his lap as best you can with his hold on you, meeting him thrust for thrust and Maker, nothing you'd imagined has anything on this. You bury your face in the side of his neck in a pitiful attempt to muffle the sounds that are leaving your throat, sucking and biting at the skin you find there and enjoying the moans you get out of him in return.  

You suddenly find yourself on your back with the Jedi above you, swallowing down the gasp that tears out of you as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss. Obi-Wan starts thrusting again immediately as he lets instinct take over, leaning forward on his elbow next to your head to give him better leverage. You nibble on his lower lip as you bring your legs up around his waist, gasping into his mouth when he fucking growls at the feel of your teeth and knotting your fingers in the strands of his hair again. His free hand comes up to cup the side of your face, holding you in place while he kisses the breath from your lungs. 

You're not going to last much longer, if the way your cunt is already starting to tighten around him is anything to go by. He shifts his hips just slightly, down and to the side, and you almost scream when he manages to find an angle that has the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot straight on at the same time as the warm skin of his torso brushes against your clit on each thrust in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did he get the hang of this so fast? He's going to kriffing kill you, if he keeps this up. "Stars, Obi," you sob out, "I'm gonna--"

The Jedi presses one last firm kiss to your mouth before he's pulling back to watch you fall apart, his hand leaving your face and moving down your body until he's stroking your aching clit with his thumb again, rubbing it in fast, small circles like he's learned you like it as he continues fucking into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. "Right behind you, Darling," he grits out, his voice coming strained and wrecked and you know he means it. It only takes one, two, three more thrusts before you just fucking shatter, crying out into the air and trembling as the orgasm obliterates you. He follows not half a dozen thrusts later, burying his face in your neck and gasping as he fills you with everything he has, his hips still pumping lazily as he comes down. 

Eventually, the Jedi collapses down on the bed next to you, reaching over to brush some of the hair out of your face and giving you a dopey grin that's such a wild juxtaposition from his usual composure and his reputation that it makes you giggle, unable to help yourself. He raises an eyebrow at you playfully but it only makes you laugh harder, shaking your head. "Maker," you breathe, finally, because you can't seem to string together anything else. Obi-Wan chuckles next to you and reaches over to pull you back into his chest, burying his face in your hair while he tries to catch his own breath. "You are...a very quick study. Maker."

You can't see him grin, but you can hear it in his voice when he speaks again. "I'm glad you're pleased," he teases, and you only roll your eyes before letting yourself fully relax against him. Your eyes start to droop but you don't have the energy to fight to keep them open, and you end up falling asleep right there in his arms.

He lets you.

You wake up the next morning almost unbearably warm, and when you go to try and sit up, you find that you can't. You freeze as a half-baked realization suddenly comes over you, hesitantly cracking your eyes open.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Oh, kriff. 

You fell asleep here last night. In the Jedi's bed. With the Jedi. He, it turns out, is the reason that you can't move. Obi-Wan's got both arms wrapped tightly around your middle, holding you against his chest with his legs tangled up with yours, and Maker you would never have pegged this man for a cuddler but you couldn't be more wrong, apparently. It does, however, create quite an interesting problem for you.

This is his last morning here before he leaves to return to Coruscant. He and Skywalker are supposed to leave early, before even breakfast. Skywalker will, doubtlessly, be coming around to see what's what's holding his old master up, and soon--and you are still here. 

Where you are. Definitely. Not supposed to be.

You don't know how much time you have but you know that it isn't much. You have got to get out of here before Obi-Wan's pain in the ass prior padawan shows up, and the Jedi looks so peaceful like this that you kind of wish you could just let him sleep but you really don't want to just sneak out on him after last night. So you sigh, reaching up to shake his shoulder gently. "Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, we have to get up."

It doesn't take much to wake him, thankfully, and he lets go of you to prop himself up on his elbow as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep as he peers down at you, not quite as surprised to see you there as you'd have maybe expected him to be. 

You don't even get a chance to answer him because there's suddenly a knock on the door, and both of your eyes widen at it. Skywalker. "Obi-Wan?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are your clothes? You're out of the bed before Obi-Wan even has a chance to stop you, frantically trying to find your clothes and put them on. You toss his trousers at his chest when you come across them and that seems to be what finally spurs him into motion, standing up so he can get them on as he calls back to the other Jedi. "What is it, Anakin?"

There's a moment of confused silence, then: "Cody's landing the transport now."

Obi-Wan opens his mouth like he's about to tell his old padawan that he'll be out momentarily, but doesn't get a chance to get the actual words out before you both hear the hiss of the door starting to slide open. Thank the Maker, you just manage to get your tunic back on before Skywalker comes into sight, and you do your best to try to look fucking normal as his eyes flicker between you but your heart fucking stops when you glance to the left of you and realize that Obi-Wan still isn't wearing a fucking shirt. His entire chest is exposed, which means that all of the marks you left scattered across it are also exposed. Fuck, fuck, fuck--

"I'll just. I'll just see you on the transport."

Skywalker is gone before either of you can react, the door sliding shut behind him. Your next breath leaves your lungs with enough force that it's almost a wheeze, and you have to bend over and put your hands on your knees for a second while you try to process what the fuck just happened. Obi-Wan blinks next to you, looking directly ahead for a second or two more before he suddenly starts chuckling, and you stare at him incredulously. "I'm sorry," he says finally, "That was just…"

You're laughing too, then, shaking your head as you step back over to him, ducking down to grab his shirt from where you can see it on the floor. You place the fabric in his hands and lean up on your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek, giving him a small smile. "Until next time, Master Kenobi?"

He gives you a small smile in return, and surprises you a little bit when he leans in himself and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "Until next time."

Mercifully, no-one questions him when Obi-Wan finally makes it to the transport. He intentionally doesn't look at Anakin even though he can feel the other man's eyes on him as he finds his seat and sits down, straightening his robes. He finds it difficult to keep the smile completely off his face so he just ducks his head instead in the guise of settling in for the flight and studiously ignores the way Anakin is still staring at him. 

"How was your trip, General?" Cody asks, leaning around in the pilot's seat to look back at him once they've left the planet's atmosphere. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to answer but Anakin's there first, suddenly grinning ear-to-ear in a way that makes him distinctly uncomfortable. 

"Oh, the General had a wonderful time." the younger man drawls, looking him right in the eyes as he does, and Obi-Wan wonders not for the first time if Qui-Gon died and left Anakin in his care as some inhumane form of punishment. "Made significant strides with relations and learned a lot, I'm sure."

"Oh, well, that's good, Sir." Cody responds, and Obi-Wan really dearly hopes he's as unaware of the insinuation as he sounds. Cody really does not need to know these things. Anakin does not need to know these things. "I'm glad your mission was productive."

Anakin opens his mouth like he's going to say something else but closes it abruptly and grins instead when Obi-Wan glares at him and shakes his head slowly in warning. "Thank you, Cody." Obi-Wan says instead, leaning back in his seat and letting his eyes close as he tries to relax. Maker, he can still feel the effects of the night before, his muscles are more sore than he would have expected and he finds that he's very aware of the bruises you'd left behind and it's...strangely pleasant. 

He's not allowed to have emotional attachments, but. He kind of does hope that he'll see you again one day anyway. Until next time, Master Kenobi. 

[anonniemousefics]

Stars In The Darkness

Originally posted on AO3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 9,042

****Rating: NSFW (aged up characters)****

This is the conclusion to The Trouble With Wanting series, companion piece to Wildfire

TW for PTSD, heavy angst. An obligatory quarantine fic cuz I was in quarantine when I wrote this, lol.

KAZ

No mourners. No funerals.

Kaz Brekker leaned over the new porcelain sink in the bathroom attached to The Slat. He clutched both sides, sweat pouring from his forehead.

No mourners. No funerals.

He’d been saying the phrase so long, it had started to lose its meaning. For that he hated himself. Did anyone at all even understand what it meant? Had he ever even told anyone?

No mourners. No funerals.

Jordie had died alone, forgotten. No funeral. Not a single mourner. And he’d loved Jordie. His big brother had been his hero, his whole world, and no one else knew what the world had lost.

This alone should have crushed him. It would have. Instead, he made it his calling card. Jordie Rietveld, the original Crow. He didn’t need mourners. He didn’t need a funeral. No one did.

Because if the world hadn’t mourned Jordie, why should it mourn anyone else?

His stomach was threatening to heave again, and he white-knuckled the sink, breathing hard. Fuck. It had been years since it had been this bad. He stared at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror, demanding he get a fucking grip on himself.

No mourners. No funerals.

He thought he had been free. He’d spent well over a year on the puzzle of Inej Ghafa, and he thought that could have been enough. She loved him, she’d said so. And, gods, he loved her.

He’d been a fool to think that would be enough.

Now reality was sinking in with every toll of the plague alarm. He hadn’t banished any ghosts. He hadn’t buried any bodies. All he’d managed was to condition himself like a dumb lap dog, performing a trick so he could get a treat. And all the while, the dead had waited. And all the while, Jordie had watched.

And now Ketterdam would have its pound of flesh. Because he could blame Pekka Rollins until he was old and grey, but what had killed Jordie Rietveld had always been the plague. And there was no fighting the plague.

No mourners... No funerals…

It sounded insane now, because what the fuck was he supposed to do when the plague took Inej, too? Was he really going to stand there, stoic and unmoving, while the bodymen took her away? Was he really going to go on living, knowing her final resting place was a mass grave?

He’d been a fool. Such a damn, stupid fool.

And now he really couldn’t breathe. He was a fish out of water, his vision blurring as his throat closed around every inhale.

“Kaz!” Someone was pounding on the bathroom door. “Kaz, let me in.”

How many days until the bodies started piling up? How long did he have? Was there any way to get them out of the city? They all needed to get out. Inej, Jesper, Wylan. Anika, Pim, Rotty, Roeder. It was the only way. The only way to keep from losing everything again.

“Kaz, I will break down this door. Answer me, damnit.”

The king of Ravka owed him favors. Maybe it wasn’t too late to call them in—

INEJ

Fuck it.

Inej threw all of her weight into a massive kick, just above the bathroom doorknob. The door rattled and bowed, and the flimsy lock ripped through the doorframe as the door swung open.

Inside, Kaz staggered back from the sink, pale and perspiring. She’d never seen him looking so sloppy in her life. He hadn’t changed out of his dark sleeping trousers from the morning, but had managed to throw on a white undershirt that was now sweat-stained. And if he was startled, it lasted only a moment before he glared at the broken doorframe.

“Did you forget how to pick a lock?” he growled.

“Did you forget how to unlock a door?” Inej retorted. “I’ve been here almost an hour – how long have you been in here?”

But when she took a step towards him, he flinched back, holding a hand out to keep her away, and it was like they were nothing but street trash teenagers all over again. A knife twisted in Inej’s chest as she saw how his breathing labored, his gaze wouldn’t meet hers. For nearly a year, he’d made slow, steady progress with touch – so much so, she’d almost forgotten what his suffering looked like.

Now, it was worse than ever. He was pressing himself back against the far wall, clamping a hand over his mouth like he was trying not to be sick.

“Breathe,” she told him, calmly. “Just breathe, Kaz. We’re here, together, safe in The Slat. Breathe.”

Kaz clenched his fists at his sides and drew in a stubborn, fighting breath through his nose. Outside, the plague alarms tolled.

“Those goddamn bells,” he rasped.

“I know, they’re awful,” Inej agreed. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll climb up and dismantle them.”

He opened his eyes long enough to shoot her an irritated glance.

“They serve a crucial function, Wraith.”

“Ok. I’ll leave them alone.”

“They’re preventing the spread of disease.”

“I said I’d leave them alone! Take a breath.”

And Kaz slid his back against the wall until he came to sit on the floor, defeated and spent.

KAZ

He was equal parts relieved she was back and terrified she was here with him. When he’d told her to get as far away as she could, he’d meant it. If she could get away from the necrotic infection that was his Ketterdam, she could live, and he could live knowing at least she was safe.

And now he was angry because why couldn’t she just listen to him? What did she know about firepox? What did she know about surviving a mindless, faceless killer?

He tried to heave a deep breath, but his throat felt like it was closing in. Bloated, dead flesh crowded against his ribs, his arms, his face, dragging him deeper toward the cold, unyielding darkness. He couldn’t stop shaking.

“I went to the docks,” came Inej’s calm voice. He was aware that she’d sat on the tile floor across from him, and he wasn’t sure yet if it made it better or worse. Just that morning, he’d had her bare and in his bed, writhing in his sheets and calling his name, and now he could hardly look at her without imagining her dead.

“You went to the docks,” he echoed, trying to find the present.

“Made sure the crew could find safe lodging for the foreseeable future,” Inej went on. “They’re saying it started in West Stave. Twelve new cases since yesterday. But I think our chances are pretty slim at this point. You’ve been chained to your desk for weeks, and I only docked yesterday. And we spent the evening arguing and pouting instead of going out.”

“I don’t pout.”

“It was me. I was pouting.”

“This is helping. Keep talking.”

“Bad news is they’ve shut down all businesses, so The Crow Club’s empty.”

“Fuuuck.”

“Good news is you and I now have unlimited liquor for the duration of this quarantine. And you look like you could use some. I’ve wanted to learn to mix drinks anyway. I could make you that fruity pink thing Sturmhond got sloshed on.”

“Dirtyhands doesn’t get sloshed on fruity pink things.”

“No one needs to know.”

His throat had opened up, and Kaz drew in a long, deep, shaking breath. The darkness had stopped its impending approach, and he was suddenly exhausted. His eyelids felt swollen when he opened his eyes again and looked over at Inej. His brave, brilliant girl. She was cross-legged in front of him, still dressed for the sea: tight olive-green trousers and a loose white blouse, her hands in her fingerless gloves and her long, oil-black braid resting over one shoulder. She was beautiful and commanding and alive, and it made his heart ache.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was softer now; she’d exchanged her light-hearted ribbing now that Kaz was no longer a gasping mess.

Kaz rubbed at his eyes. His mind was a fog, every thought spread out in disarray. He could only say the first thing that bubbled to the surface.

“You deserve so much more than this.”

“An admirable deflection, but that’s not it.” Inej slit her eyes at him, reading him like a book. Annoying. This wasn’t something he’d considered when she’d told him to take off the armor. He’d wanted to get laid; he didn’t want a damn mind reader.

That wasn’t exactly true, though, was it? But maybe it was a necessary lie. He was too attached, and this loss would not be one he could survive.

“You’re being a fool, Wraith,” Dirtyhands rasped.

INEJ

“Am I?” Well, well, well. So, this is how it was going to be, was it? Inej knew Dirtyhands when she saw him. She could tussle with this bastard all day. Sometimes she even liked it. “How so?”

Kaz’s pale face was set in a glare; he wanted a fight. And if he hadn’t tried this before, it may have even rattled Inej.

If anyone had seen their first kisses, they might have mistaken Kaz and Inej for an old married couple. The only kind of kiss either of them could handle was merely a brief peck on the cheek or the lips, as chaste as a greeting between relatives. Their bodies wouldn’t even brush. It had to look ridiculous, but Inej told herself it was good practice. Someday, they could have something like a real kiss, she told herself. For now, this was enough.

The last night before Inej was to set sail again, they sat opposite each other on the windowsill of The Slat, propped up against the frame, while Inej coaxed crows with breadcrumbs and made sure Kaz didn’t fall out the window. He’d had a couple drinks too many with Jesper and was more than a little amusing.

“I have a secret,” he slurred. He leaned his head back against the open window frame, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.  

“Just one?” Inej quirked an eyebrow. Kaz gave a drunken chortle.  

“Good point.” He pointed at her. “Clever, clever Wraith.”

“What’s your secret?” Inej asked, with an amused smirk. Kaz gave a sloppy nod.

“It is terrifying to me that you live on a boat,” he confessed with a slow blink. Inej frowned.

“You bought me the boat,” she said. Kaz kept nodding, wide-eyed.

“I did,” he said. “A whole damn boat. And it looks so good on you, Inej. So good.”

“Thank you.” Inej tried to hide a laugh.  

“But I spend every day trying to convince myself that you’re not drowning. It’s – it’s not fun, Inej. It’s the opposite of fun – what’s the word?”  

“There are many to choose from,” Inej shrugged. “Is this fear because of…?” She wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. The night he’d told her about nearly drowning, of using his brother’s body to swim to shore from Reaper’s Barge, had been the first time she’d ever seen tears in his eyes. She wasn’t proud of it, but it had startled her. It had thrown the balance of her world off so harshly that she’d tracked down Pekka Rollins that very night and carved his skin until she felt the scales tip again.  

“Probably,” was all Kaz would admit, and he rested one cheek against a gloved fist.

Inej considered this while she threw crumbs to the crows. She cared for him, so very much. And any time she thought of him as that abandoned little boy in the harbor, her insides crumbled.

“You should come out on the water with me,” she told him. “Let me show you it’s not what you remember.”

“Pass,” Kaz announced, a little too loudly.

“We could start small,” Inej persisted. “Take a little skiff on the canals.”

“The canals are disgusting.” Kaz practically looked petulant, like she was forcing vegetables on him. “Do you have any idea how many drunks piss in those canals? I’ve taken a piss in those canals.”  

Inej grimaced with a groan, but she wasn’t giving up on this idea now that it had seized her.

“I’m a sea captain, Kaz,” she said. “I’ve got you. You will not fall into the canals unless I decide you’re going to fall into the canals. And I haven’t decided yet; it depends on how nice you are to me.” She gave a prim little tilt of her chin as she shot him a coy glance. He was smiling like a silly fool.

“I want to kiss you,” he declared, and even though she knew he was drunk, her face still burned.

“Maybe you should,” she dared.

And for a moment, he sat still and stiff against the window frame, and she thought he would change the subject. But then, he swung his legs back inside the room and limped to where she sat. He towered over her, leaning against the window frame as he gazed over her face, and Inej watched the darkness in his eyes, holding her breath, praying that this time it could go differently.  

Then, slowly, he lifted one gloved hand to her chin, tilting her face up just slightly. She shivered at the brush of leather, missing the warmth of his hands but conceding this for now. And it hardly mattered considering the way he looked at her, his eyes like languid pools of chocolate, melting her.

He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing her bottom lip, and she drew in a breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and she hardly dared to move as he slowly bent down, the tip of his nose brushing hers for a brief moment, before he brought his lips to touch hers.

And Inej wanted to pull him closer, to taste his mouth, to know that he burned for her just as she burned for him, but instead she waited, terrified this time that she could spook him with any sudden movements. And for a moment, it seemed to work.

For a moment, his eyes slid closed. For a moment, he held her there, brushing his lips over hers, dipping in to meet her mouth completely. Thank the Saints, she thought, her eyes closing, giving in. Thank you, thank you.

But only for a moment.

Because a moment later, his whole body went rigid, and he startled the crows away when he wrenched away with a gasp. Inej had to grab the window frame to keep from falling and really destroying the evening. And Kaz staggered backwards, crushing his eyes closed tight with a hand clamped over his mouth. Inej leapt after him before he could tip backwards, as unsteady as he was with drink.  

“Don’t,” he growled, pushing her back instead as he swayed and regained his balance. “Stay back.”

And as harsh as it sounded, it was still improvement. It was more than they’d ever had before, and he wasn’t vomiting or fainting, even with a fair amount of kvas in him. The kiss, as small as it was, left Inej dazzled. She stepped back from him, holding her hands out so he knew he had his space.

But Kaz wasn’t as satisfied. Far from it. In fact, he gave a frustrated roar and then turned and put his fist through the wall.

Inej barely had time to give a startled yelp. If he hadn’t have been wearing his gloves, Kaz surely would have torn his hand to shreds. As it was, he was holding it gingerly in the other hand, and Inej couldn’t be sure if he’d broken fingers or not.  

“Why do you come back here?” Kaz shouted when he whirled back at her, his teeth bared in fury. Inej clenched her fists.

“We have a deal,” she said, coldly. It was the language Dirtyhands understood.  

Kaz scoffed as he tried to move his injured fingers.

“To what end?” he spat, and ground his teeth in pain. “How long will it take you to realize there is nothing here for you to save?”  

“If you weren’t interested in being saved, you wouldn’t have struck the deal in the first place,” Inej shot back. If he was trying to push her away to save face, she wasn’t going quietly.  

“I have nothing to offer you,” Kaz gritted. “I can’t even--” but he couldn’t look at her.

Inej held out her hands toward him, offering to take his injured fingers in hers. He hesitated, the muscle in his jaw ticking.  

“All I have ever asked of you was your honesty and your time,” Inej said. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to try.”  

And slowly Kaz turned, shuffling his weight off his bad leg, and put his wounded hand in hers, the leather dusted in plaster. She slowly started to pull back the leather to inspect the damage, and Kaz sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  

“I’m very drunk,” he complained.  

“I know you are.”

“This hurts.”  

“Don’t punch walls next time.”  

His knuckles were already swollen and bruised, but nothing looked broken. Nothing ice and a good bandage couldn’t fix.  

“Mati en sheva yelu,” he slurred in Suli. This action will have no echo. And the sincere, painful look he was giving her when she looked up at him in surprise made her want to kiss him all over again. “You know—you say it,” he tried to wave off her adoration.

“I do. I didn’t know you were listening.”  

“I’m always listening, Inej. Inej.” He sighed hard, looking longing at her lips. “It’s going to hurt so much worse than this when this is over.”

Inej looked up at him in surprise.

“Why would you say that?” she frowned.

“You wanted honesty.” Kaz swayed a little on his feet. “I’m giving you honesty. Nothing survives the Barrel. Not even me. Not even you. And now look at me--” He squared his wide shoulders, taking a shuffling step closer, close enough that she could feel his body warmth, smell the tang of wine on his breath. She found herself staring up at the painful depths of his dark eyes, the ache he let her see. “No armor now,” he said, his voice low.

For a moment, Inej’s knees felt weak beneath him, but it was that smell of the red wine that brought her back.

“You’re drunk,” she reminded him. He gave a petulant frown, and maybe that was the reason she found the courage to say the rest. “And if you’re trying to blame me for some unforeseen pain that may or may not even happen, in some misguided attempt to protect yourself from actually feeling something, well, then you’re far crueler than I took you for. And I will not tolerate your cruelty, Kaz Brekker.”  

And so she knew this strategy Kaz Brekker’s demons employed. And she stared him down on the bathroom floor, daring him to go on.

“How so?” she said again.

KAZ

Jordie would have been twenty-five. Jordie never got to dream, to build a name for himself, to live comfortably. Jordie never got to have a girl, to know what it was like to be adored, to wake up next to the same face you dreamt of.

Because of the firepox.

Why did I live? Why did I live?

Kaz was pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jordie was there, bloated, covered in sores, his vacant eyes glassy.

“How so?”

“The ship was your ticket out,” he rasped, finally, looking up at her. “I gave you the ship. I gave you your family. You were supposed to get far away from here before this happened again. You were supposed to leave.”

“I don’t believe you.” Inej shook her head.

“What do you want from me?” his voice strained, savagely. “Is it not enough to know that I love you and want you to live? You have to keep coming around here, endangering yourself and my crew--”

“Your crew?” Inej raised an angry, skeptical eyebrow.

“Look at me.” Somewhere under the fog of paranoia and haunted memory, Kaz knew he was nearing hysterics. “You are my weakness, a liability--”

But at that, Inej shot to her feet, and the very real threat of actually losing her was enough to shut even Dirtyhands up. She stared down at him, a glare laced with ice and pain and empathy all at once.

“I know you are hurting,” she said, “and I know this isn’t the reason. I know how impossible it can feel to find the source when the pain is all-encompassing. But that gives you no right speak to me this way. We have fought too long and come too far for this.”

The wash of guilt that followed crushed his chest, and Kaz sunk into the heels of his palms once again. She asked only for honesty, came a reminder from somewhere in his frenetic thoughts. Find the source, find the source. She was turning to leave the bathroom, and the dread of not having her voice, pulling him out of the dark, was far worse than any other horror his imagination could conjure up.

“Inej,” he said in a harsh scratch. His throat felt thick. She turned at the broken bathroom door, leaning her head against the frame. Waiting. Expecting.

He had to try.

“I can’t,” he started, and there it was. The source. His mind been twisting it all around in the fog, fumbling with it like a lock in the dark, when it was simple, really. “I can’t do this again,” he said at last, his voice breaking.

“Do what again,” said Inej, though she seemed to understand. She was going to make him say it.

He swallowed hard, his throat constricting.

“I can’t,” he pushed again, “I can’t lose everything to this again. I can’t do it.”

“You are not going to lose everything, Kaz,” Inej said, firmly, and she began to cross the tile back to him again.

“I can’t lose you to this.” He dared to look at her as she sat next to him, their backs against the wall. “Any of you. Jesper. Wylan. I can’t. I have so much more to lose this time.”

“You are not going to lose us.” Inej remained adamant, but Kaz gave a bitter, crooked smile even as he felt hot tears like pinpricks in his eyes. Jordie had made similar promises once. Jordie would have liked Inej.

“You can’t promise that.” His rasp was becoming a whisper. “You can’t promise any of that.”

And to her credit, Inej didn’t try to fight. It was firepox. It wasn’t a rival gang. There was no strategy. There was only the gamble. Outlast. Outlive. That’s all you could do.

Inej set her hand on his knee. He knew she would have liked to have done more, but he was grateful she didn’t try. This was enough.

“Then for tonight,” she said, “we’ll be scared. And we’ll be sad. And then tomorrow, we’ll pick up the pistols and the knives again. We’ll fight again another day.”

We. He didn’t deserve to be a We, but he feared the loss far more. And with a deep breath to summon his courage, he put his hand over hers. He had to wait a moment to allow the shudder to pass through him, but then he gave her fingers a squeeze in agreement. When he looked over at her, her big, brown eyes were glassy with tears.

“Kaz,” she said, softly, “tell me about Jordie.”

Kaz rested his head against the bathroom wall. There was so much to say about Jordie. He could have told her about the games he made up or the jokes he liked to tell or the useless toys he bought Kaz, just to see his little brother grin. He could have told her about his dangerous optimism or his blind ambition or his stupid hubris. He wanted to tell her how riding on Jordie’s shoulders had made him feel like an invincible giant, and what good were gods or Saints or Grisha if they couldn’t even protect a boy as deserving of life as Jordie?

Instead, Kaz Rietveld broke down and wept.

INEJ  

It was a long night, the first of many long nights. Inej wasn’t sure when Kaz finally fell asleep, but she awoke first and shuffled out of the attic in Kaz’s nightshirt, down to the empty kitchen of The Slat to percolate a kettle of strong black coffee. When she brought up cups, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed and disheveled. He couldn’t have slept more than two or three hours.

She handed him a cup of coffee without a word and noticed he avoided touching her fingers when he took the mug. She understood all too well how the tide of war against the demons of memory could shift dramatically with so little warning, and she was ready to tell him so when he let out a small, defeated sigh and leaned to rest his head against her stomach.

Had anyone ever seen the Bastard of the Barrel so broken? No one would ever know, the Wraith determined. She ran her fingers through the thick, soft hair at the top of his head, avoiding his scalp, and held him there against her. He gave no protest.

“I thought I had defeated this,” he said, after a long silence.

“The past can be tricky like that,” Inej replied. The dawn was golden over the tile rooftops of Ketterdam. “It has teeth, and sometimes it demands attention.”

“Suli proverb?”

“No.” Inej sighed. “Just the story of my life.”

Kaz was silent a moment as they both sat with their demons at the door. He lifted a hand like he wanted to hold her closer, but ended up tugging absentmindedly on the rolled-up sleeve of her nightshirt instead.

“You were ready.” The self-loathing in Kaz’s voice was palpable and twisted in Inej’s gut. “Yesterday, you wanted me to--”

“Kaz.” Inej stopped him and gave the back of his head a little tug so he’d look up at her. “Are you forgetting the terms of our deal? I want you. Mind, body, and soul. Those were your exact words. This,” she brushed back his sleep-disheveled hair with tender fingers and he closed his eyes, “this is all part of the deal. Your past, your memories, your fears – they are all a part of the man I love. I wouldn’t have you without them.”

Kaz was still beneath her fingers in his hair, but after a moment, his chest rose and fell with a sigh and he gave a little nod.

With the streets outside silent and abandoned, they spent the rest of the day in bed, sometimes sleeping, sometimes talking, always a safe distance from each other. When night fell, however, Inej woke up briefly to find Kaz’s bare hand fitted to her the slope of her waist as he slept, curled on his side. She smiled to herself in the dark.

KAZ

The plague bells continued to toll every day, a regular reminder of the reaper that spread like wildfire through the streets. The first three days were near-constant torment. Inej did her best to try to distract him with card games and books. She even got desperate and showed him knife tricks that made even him feel uneasy that she was going to hurt herself.

“Seriously, that’s enough,” he finally told her at one point. “I can’t go out and bring back a Tailor for you if you lose a finger today.”

“I am not going to lose a finger.” But she stopped anyway. He was grateful. Every moment of the day, his heart was pounding and his mind was racing while he watched for telltale signs. She’d grow tired first, then lose her appetite when the fever began to rise, and then would come the sores that would erupt all across her perfect body. It would rot her beautiful face. Sometimes, lying in bed, eyes closed, was all he could manage to do to keep himself from losing it completely.

But as the end of the first week drew near, they were both still healthy, and Kaz found he could go an hour without imagining her death. Each day grew a little more normal, and each day brought a little more freedom. He could show her card tricks and live entirely in the moment her face lit up in delighted wonder, no fear of the future. Each night, Inej would flit across the rooftops of Ketterdam to the Van Eck mansion, returning to The Slat with news that Jesper and Wylan were well and bored and sent their regards, and Kaz’s unease settled a bit more. By the second week, he could lie across from Inej at night, and his mind would fill with tender memories instead of horrors. Instead of her dying face, he thought of the sun shimmering on her golden brown skin, the harbor winds in her black hair, the rose petal-softness of her lips against his cheek.

How she convinced him to let her paddle him through the canals of Ketterdam, he’ll never know. Maybe it was partially his own fault. He was growing desperate to make progress, to hold her how he wanted to hold her, and it was becoming apparent to him that he had to confront what the waters brought up in him.

She’d stashed away her own money and bought herself a skiff, the first boat she’d purchased on her own, and her eyes dazzled when she spoke of it, and Kaz knew he wanted to see her captain it. He’d walked the decks of The Wraith with her, his heart soaring with pride as he watched her in her element. Kaz loved to see Inej happy. He loved nothing more.

But all of that couldn’t prevent him from sitting in the exact center of the skiff with his arms crossed in defense – against what? – and his body so rigid, the first harsh jostle of the skiff could snap him in two.

“You hate this,” Inej observed. She’d stopped rowing and came to sit next to him, facing the opposite direction. The canal waters were still as the skiff drifted forward. They were in a quiet part of town where the narrow streets were largely ignored. A shopkeeper swept the cobblestones in front of their shop; an old man smoked a pipe on the steps of a pub.  

“I never said that,” but Kaz didn’t look at her.  

“You didn’t have to.” Inej raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take us home.”

“No--”

“I’m glad you tried. That means a lot--”

“Inej.” He touched her wrist, his hands bare, and looked up at her face as she was about to move back to steer the boat. Her skin shone in the sunlight as the breeze swept strands of her hair across her face. Her eyes in the sunshine were like caramels. Kaz didn’t want to go back. That was the last thing he wanted.  

“I need new memories of the water,” he rasped. “That’s all.”

“Better memories,” Inej agreed, and she turned her hand, fitting her fingers through his. He closed his eyes while he took in the warmth of her palm against his, alive and perfect.  

And then it happened. His eyes still closed, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his cheek. His heart stuttered and warmed. It hadn’t felt revolting at all. It had surprised him, and he’d liked it. He’d actually liked it. He opened his eyes to her sweet smile, and he wanted more.

This was what he would always consider their first real kiss. He turned his body and wrapped one hand at her waist, holding her close. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink back. No, she leaned in. She wanted. He tilted his head to meet the slant of her lips and lost himself in her sweetness, with the sun bright overhead and the lazy lapping of canal water against the sides of the skiff.  

INEJ

“They’re lifting some quarantine measures,” Kaz told her over coffee one morning. Inej looked up at him, eager, as he scanned the headlines of the Ketterdam Ledger. The days had become routine in the microcosm of their world, and she desperately needed to tend to The Wraith.

“The harbors?” she asked.

“They’re not opening the harbors yet,” Kaz shook his head, then shot a glance at her, catching her frustration. “Not that that should stop us,” he said, folding up the paper.

A smile began to creep along Inej’s lips.

“Are you sure?” she questioned. In the first days of the quarantine, Kaz didn’t even want to leave the room. He’d laid rest to many demons since then, but his exhaustion was still fresh in her mind.

But the smile he gave back to her was a Dirtyhands smirk, and her stomach fluttered pleasantly.

“Figure out the quarantine guard shift change at the harbor,” he told her. “We’ll go tonight.”

The Wraith threw back the last of her coffee and made a mad dash for the rooftops, like a bat out of hell.

That night, they dressed the part. It was a little silly, Inej realized, strapping on her knives over her leggings, when this wasn’t anything like a real job. But a forbidden midnight dash into the cordoned harbor was far more entertaining than the same old card games, and Inej was mad for some excitement. As she watched Kaz suit up out of the corner of her eye, she suspected he felt much the same way. They were both ready for some semblance of normality.

They tied makeshift masks over their faces before slipping into the abandoned shadows of Ketterdam’s alleys. Kaz’s limp was more pronounced after weeks of being holed up in The Slat, and while Inej didn’t point it out, she still kept to the darkness so he didn’t have to rush. After a few blocks, his muscles loosened, and their pace quickened, and when they neared the harbor, Inej stopped them, her back against the brick wall of a building, and held out a hand for Kaz’s pocket watch. The chain clinked as he handed it to her, and she checked the time.

She pulled the mask down to her neck as she handed the watch back.

“We’re early,” she whispered up at him. “Few minutes still.”

Kaz nodded beneath his mask as he pocketed the watch. Suddenly, Inej’s heart thudded as she looked him over. It had been weeks since he’d worn one of his tailored black suits, and the thrill of seeing him looking like himselfagain overtook her.

When her eyes traveled up to his face, she saw that he’d noticed her staring, and he lifted his dark eyebrows.

“See something you like?” he asked, his rasping voice muffled behind mask. Inej pressed back a smirk.

“Cheeky bastard,” she shot back.

“You’re the one who likes cheeky bastards,” said Kaz, and took two shuffling steps closer, leaning on his crow’s head cane, so close their bodies were nearly touching.

“Just this one,” Inej replied, and gave a little tug on his mask to reveal his crooked half smile.

Inej drew in a breath as Kaz took one more step and she felt the brace of his body against her. She’d never say it, but she had ached for him all these weeks – so close to her, and yet so out of reach. To her delight, he leaned his cane against the wall and wrapped both gloved hands around her waist. She held on to his shoulders as he pressed against her, taking her lips, softly at first, and then with insistence.

Thank the Saints, Inej thought, not for the first time, and let herself melt into him.

She ran her hands up his shoulders and around his neck, crossing her wrists behind his head, and let him press her back against the wall. It was as if he was making up for lost time, and his touch drove her mad, in the best way possible. He parted her lips with his tongue, and a soft moan escaped her throat as his fingers twisted in the fabric of her vest.

“Gods, I’ve missed this,” Kaz rasped when they broke apart finally, lungs aching. His chest was heaving, breathless, as Inej dragged her fingers under the lapels of his jacket, over the hard muscle beneath, pulling him closer.

And she gasped as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the soft bit of skin just below her ear, and she was ready to forget the world entirely when his teeth grazed her neck, his hands roaming her hips, except at the last minute, she remembered the time. While he cupped her ass, she slipped her fingers into his waistcoat pocket.

“Now,” she said, pulling back, suddenly. “We have to go now.”

“Did you just pick my pocket?” Kaz realized, a little dazed, as Inej replaced his pocket watch. But she was already soundlessly running for the docks.

The Wraith waited at Fifth Harbor, looking no worse for wear, as they scaled its sides in the dark and leapt aboard. Inej walked its decks in the moonlight, shining full beyond the tall masts. She knew that weeks in the water with no maintenance, the list of chores that needed to be taken care of had grown long. For one thing, the decks were covered in bird shit. There were sails that needed mending, hulls that needed shucked of their barnacles, cannons that needed cleaning. She at least needed to take stock of the work ahead, so she could quickly divvy up the load among her crew when the quarantine was lifted.

She could sense Kaz’s eyes on her, almost hungry since their exchange in the alley. And now that they had evaded the quarantine guards, she found she liked it. She gave him a provocative glance the next time she noticed his predatory gaze.

“You picked my pocket,” he repeated, slitting his eyes. His dark eyes in the silver moonlight made her heart skip. She turned to face him at the base of the mizzenmast.

“And whatever will you do about it, Brekker,” she challenged.

He tapped his cane against the wood of the deck three times.

“I have some ideas,” he rasped, a quirk of a smile on his lips, and Saints she wanted him to press up against her again.

It was as if he read her mind. He let his cane drop with a clatter as he took her in his arms, pressing her back against the wood of the mizzenmast, and she lifted onto her toes to hungrily take his lips with hers.

He wasn’t slow and methodical now. He was like a drowning man gasping his first breath of air. He was kissing her as much as he could, her lips, her cheeks, her throat, his hands digging into the back of her shirt, nearly lifting her off her toes. She brought her hands to either side of his face to hold him still, to kiss him deeper, to breathe in his scent like she hadn’t in weeks. Her Kaz. He wasn’t gone. He could fight his way out of any hole, no matter how black. And how she loved him for it.

One of his hands slid from her back, raking up her rib cage to cup her breast, and she gasped into his mouth as he kneaded it with his long fingers. There was warmth pooling between her legs, desire like a steady tide rising in her veins. She pressed her hips against his and found he was already hard. Her cheeks warmed. More, she needed more.

“I want you,” she gasped. She’d let go of his face, running her hands over his shoulders, as he left a train of kisses down her neck.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he groaned. And it was all the permission she needed: she started pulling at the buttons of his waistcoat, his white shirt, tearing some, pushing her fingers through to his hot skin and muscles underneath.

He wasn’t running. He tore at her shirt, his lithe fingers dancing through buttonholes as her blouse fell open to him, and he bent his head, pulling at the center of her back, to bring his mouth to her cleavage.

“Take those damn gloves off,” she demanded, and, as he did, she threw off her shirt and the useless mask from her neck and undid the bindings that held in her breasts. Kaz’s shirt was still hanging open, his hair he’d finally worked hard to put in place now falling in his eyes, as he stepped back to her, running his bare hands up her back, over her neck, to caress her breast.

She nipped at his earlobe, raking her hands down his torso, to that fine line of hair at his beltline. And as he kissed her again and again, she undid the black leather belt. He drew back with in a sharp breath as she pushed past his wiry curls and wrapped her fingers around his hard length.

“Is this what you want?” he rasped, as she began to stroke him. He released a low breath and leaned a little harder against the mast at her back.

“I want everything,” she told him in a husky voice, and he looked at her with those half-starved black eyes, lips slightly parted, before slipping his own careful fingers into her leggings.

Her head fell back against the mast and she tightened her grip on his cock as she felt his clever lockpick fingers slid over her clit. Her breasts heaved with a deep sigh, and Kaz let out a stuttering breath when she did, his eyelids fluttering.

“Careful,” he groaned with a gasp. “I don’t know if I can – shit, Inej, really, you could end this too soon.”

“I want you to feel what you make me feel,” she breathed, slowing her strokes.

“But I don’t want this to end,” Kaz gritted out, and looped his spare hand around her wrist, pulling her hand back. And just as she was about to protest, he slid both hands beneath her leggings at her waist. He wanted her bare again, she realized, and she was desperate for release.

She helped him slid her leggings to the deck, and before she could wonder what he was going to do next, he knelt before her, one hand on either thigh. With his careful eyes watching her always, he took one of her legs over his shoulder, bringing his soft lips to kiss her folds.

His breath was hot against her, and Inej raised her arms over her head to grab the mast behind her to keep her knees from crumbling under her.

“Where did you learn this?” she gasped, her heart racing. She shivered as he ran a hand over her core and her navel, stroking her tense muscles.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Kaz mumbled against her cunt, and the harsh rasp of his voice sent a wave of pleasure through her.

“I have to know--” Inej could hardly finish her sentence as he stroked his tongue slowly up the strip of her pussy. She would know, but it certainly didn’t matter now. Her legs were giving out under her, and he wrapped his strong arms under her thighs as she held onto the mast, his hair, anything to ground her.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, and he certainly seemed to have no intention to. He used one thumb to caress her clit as he sucked and stroked her folds, and her whole body was alight at his touch. The tension was building low in her abdomen, and she couldn’t hardly believe this was happening right here on her own ship. She gazed down at her Kaz, his perceptive eyes trained on her, the eyes that saw her and saved her and endlessly loved her, and she brushed his hair back as she felt the wave of orgasm nearing.

The trapped girl she’d been in the Menagerie could never have dreamed this could be her life. The trapped girl in the Menagerie might have slept easier knowing this day was coming.

“Kaz,” she breathed out his name in a soft moan as she came, wave after wave of sensation rolling through her core. “Thank you,” she was whispering, again and again. “Thank you.”

She was catching her breath as he straightened himself to his feet, kissing her softly while she came down from her high. His belt buckle was still undone, and she ran her fingers around the bare skin at his waist.

“How did you learn how to do that?” she asked him as she looked up at him, dreamily. He just shook his head with that sneaking, crooked smile. Well, fine. She could get him to talk.

She looped her hands through his belt and turned him so that his back now pressed against the mast, and then dropped to her knees.

“Fuck,” she heard Kaz whisper, and she quickly undid his trousers, dropping them to his ankles.

She’d seen him naked many times before, but this was the first time she’d decided to do something about it. His length stiffened just from her proximity, and when she glanced up at him, he looked like he was hardly daring to breathe.

She slowly brought the tip to her lips. Kaz drew in a breath.

“Tell me where you learned how to do that thing with your mouth,” she whispered with a smirk.

“Oh, that’s how this is going to be?” Kaz looked confident, but she saw how he already gripped the mast behind him. She dragged her tongue up his length, and he cursed again.

“You should tell me.”

“Holy fuck, Inej.”

This was going to be fun. Inej wrapped her lips around him, and he let out a low sound she’d never heard from him before. She worked her mouth up and down his length, relishing the pleasure she brought him, how she could turn this dangerous man into a gasping mess.

His thighs were already tensing as he struggled to hold himself upright. He’d been right; this wasn’t going to last long. He’d leaned his head back against the mast, chest heaving, and once he looked like he was going to cry out something, but instead he came with a grunt and a shudder, his fingers curling in her hair. She swallowed the heat that filled her throat, watching him quake and moan as she did, and only then did she release him.

“Nina told me.” Kaz was gasping, eyelashes fluttering as Inej stood up. “I wrote Nina for advice, and she told me about the thing I could do with my mouth. Holy shit, Inej.”

“You wrote Nina?” Inej wasn’t sure if she should be horrified or laugh. “I wrote Nina.”

Kaz opened his eyes at last, looking unconcerned.

“Well, I wasn’t about to ask Jesper for advice. And Wylan’s never even seen a vagina.”

“We will never hear the end of this.”

“She’ll raise us from the dead just to talk about it again.”

Inej thought for a moment before concluding: “Worth it.”

And because they were bored of The Slat, they curled up for the night in Inej’s captain’s quarters, the full moon filling the porthole window and lighting up the night. Sometime in the night, Inej awoke, caught a glimpse of the sea from the window, and poked Kaz in the side until he woke up.

KAZ

“What is it?” he whispered.

“The sea,” she told him.

He wanted to whine. He rarely slept soundly, and had she really just woke him up to look at the damn sea?

Of course she had.

She brought him above deck and shimmied down the ropes to The Wraith’s rowboat, gesturing for him to follow. Kaz felt like he was moving through a dream, but even in dreams, he would follow his girl to the end of the world.

She took the oars of the boat and told him to lie down in the center of the little craft. Kaz gave a relinquished sigh and did as he was told, letting her row them out into the dark harbor, slipping past guards’ watch lanterns, and out into the still waters of the open sea.

He’d long past given up on worrying about Inej’s decisions. If there was a reason she wanted them out in open waters in the middle of the night, it had to be a good one. He closed his eyes and listened to the lapping of the water, willing back old memories and thinking of Inej. His sea captain. He wouldn’t fall to the waters as long as she had him.

Eventually, she stopped rowing, dropped an anchor, and came to lie beside him in the center of the boat.

“It seems like I’m supposed to understand what’s happening,” Kaz said, their shoulders next to each other.

“I wanted you to have a new memory,” Inej said. “Just be still and look around.”

And Kaz raised himself up onto his elbows to look at the sea around him. It was at that moment he understood her love of the sea.

The black sky wrapped around them as far as the eye could reach, glittering with countless stars from horizon to horizon. The surface of the water stretched out all around, a perfect mirror of the sparkling lights in the heavens. Kaz drew in a breath in wonder, suddenly without words. If there was ever magic in the world, this was it.

He looked down at Inej, her hands under her head, as she gazed up at the sky, the picture of contentment.

“Maybe now you’ll think of this, too, when you remember the firepox,” she said, as she gazed softly up at him.

He would. Oh, he would.

He bent over, cupping her cheek, and kissed her fully. His girl. His Inej. His magic. His whole heart. She turned to him on her side, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his chest, unbound beneath her thin shirt. Desire coursed through him as he felt the puckered drag of her nipples across his body. His fingers slid through her loose hair, deepening the kiss, and blood rushed to his cock for the second time that night. What surprised him more was her hand dipping down, pressing against it through his trousers, as if she could coax it out.

“Again?” he wondered aloud, and kicked himself for it immediately. But Inej smiled against his lips and touched her nose to his.

“Better memories,” she whispered.

She slipped off her leggings while giving him a pointed glance at his tented trousers. It took a moment to understand her meaning. She wanted him to take them off.

He slid out of his trousers and then the rest of his clothes as Inej did the same, the cool night air brushing against her nipples and hardening them. He wanted to lose himself in them again, kiss them and taste them and –

Just as he was imagining the many things he was about to do to her breasts, Inej pushed him down again onto his back at the center of the rowboat. Slowly, she crawled on top of him, and his cock throbbed, begging, pleading.

This had to be a dream. Surely this was a dream. He only ever had dreams this good.

But the sigh she let out when their bodies connected was very real. And her tight heat sliding over his cock had never felt so good in his sleep. She guided herself down slowly, her hands on his torso, and Kaz released a shaky moan.

He’d convinced himself for years that this was impossible. The angry monster he’d been had locked every fantasy of this away. The broken boy he’d been was sure he’d never deserve this.

Here he was anyway.

Inej rocked over his length above him, taking her time, leaving slow, languid kisses on his mouth. He fitted his hand to the curve of her waist, her long hair brushing over his fingers. The desperation he’d felt on the decks of the ship had passed, and now he could float among the stars, his mind blank, giving his body wholly to the girl who loved him.

Every grim eventuality Kaz had conjured in his mind about the future seemed to dissipate there beneath the stars. He could be wrong. They would have time. They could live like this for years. There was nothing in their way. He had time. He had time.

When Inej quickened her pace, she was as slippery and wet as a minnow, and soon Kaz couldn't help writhing beneath her, arching, exulting, her name on his lips, his heart in her hands. He loved her; he’d love her til the end of time, and he said so, and he was nothing if not true to his word. And when he crumbled beneath her, he was unaware of anything but her her her, and when the wave subsided, there were stars all around her.

She kissed him again and again before lying beside him and mussing up his disheveled hair, grinning up at him with eyes that glittered in starlight.

“That was unexpected,” he panted, and looked over at her. “You’re not worried about – you know--” He gestured at her womb, fumbling for words.

“Nina told me how to prevent it, don’t worry.” Inej was breathing hard, too.

“We have got to stop talking about Nina when we’re naked. It’s getting weird.”

“Agreed.”

And though they knew they’d have to return to the ship before first light, Kaz tucked her close to his body anyway, tracing her curves with his fingertips, watching the stars above them. As he did, he thought of the future once more, only this time, he didn’t see death.

He saw an expanse as limitless as the infinite, starry horizon, as open to him as the sea.

[rightsockjin]

Summary:  Jimin spent all of his time practicing for the performance at roller rink on skates. And he means ALL of his time. He was a little frustrated to say the least. Won’t someone lend him a hand? Or possibly... a mouth?

Rating:M

Genre:SMUT! Tiny fluff if you squint.

Warnings: HARD BLOWJOB YALL! Female oral receieveing and giving. Partially public. Slight Exsobitonist. Sexual activities in a public bathroom. Loud Jimin! Slight soft Dom. Mentions of “ruining” reader. Little experiences reader. Panty theif! Gagging. Oppa!

Word count:4,444

Author’s notes: I’m so soft for Jimin:( This turned out much sweeter than I intended but I'm not at all mad at it.  Its kinda cute and I'm down for it.

 Jimin’s pants were long and wide at the bottom so that his skates would be partially covered by the fabric. It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t like his boss was harping him about wearing bell bottoms. On the contrary, he usually got reprimanded for his choice in pants because it was out of uniform, but Jimin thought that it gave him a little umph! It made him look like he was gliding across the roller rink. He looked ethereal. At least that’s what they had told him. Duh its jimin

        But, he thought as he looked at you as your mouth bobbed up and down on his shaft and soft moans caught in your throat, there was no way he looked anywhere near as majestic and ethereal as you did under the fluorescent lights of the food stand.

        His toned thigh muscles clenched as you sucked your cheeks in and pushed your head even farther down on his shaft. A high pitched moan was ripped out of his plush lips. A little bit of drool embarrassingly dripping from the corner of his mouth. His thick hand was placed gingerly in your blown out hair, every once in a while tightening and guiding you up or down.

        A little bit of saliva dribbled down from your mouth. You noisily slurped it up. Normally, you would try to keep it down in a place so public but after Jimin had performed his elaborate routine, the entire place emptied and the cameras couldn’t see behind the counter and had no sound, so you weren’t worried.

        “Fuck!” And it seemed that neither was Jimin.

        His feet were covered completely by the dark jeans, his green and white bomber jacket hung on the back of the metal chair that squeaked every time he jolted against your hold. And Jimin was one of those men that like to thrust up into your throat. You gagged as he thrust particularly hard into the soft part of your throat. The muscles constricted around its more than average length.

        “Yes baby right there,” he groaned, forcing past your reaction. His hips flush against your lips. You squeezed your thumb in your hand, a hail mary that you had read about somewhere on the internet that was supposed to stop you from gagging too harshly but Jimin’s erection was too hard and too thick for it to work.

        Slightly disappointed, you tapped his thigh so he would let you up for air. Jimin held you for only a second longer. Then his hand let go of your head and he situated his ass back on the squeaky chair effectively pulling a good amount of his erection out of your mouth. You pulled your head up the rest of the way. He slipped out of you ungracefully, coated in your spit, gleaming with the purple and blue of the lights.

        Not wanting to pause his rising pleasure, you wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave a few experimental pumps. It was slick. Despite how much your throat hurt after how deep he’d pushed his member in your throat, you couldn’t help but salivate at the sight, wanting to take him back in and make him make those pretty noises again.

        “uhgnh, damn it, Y/N that’s it. How are you this fucking good at this? Even your cute hands feel better than anything I’ve ever had before…ngh…yes fuck.”

        Jimin panted, his chest rising and falling exaggeratedly. Like he’d just finished one of his four hour long rehearsals and the song he’d chosen was fast and his choreography was  extremely difficult. You had been there before, your mouth watering and your panties soaking through. There was a sort of allure that Jimin had when he was dancing on his skates. A grace you could never hope to replicate and damn it all to hell if it wasn’t the sexiest thing you had ever witnessed.

        Now you got the chance to do all of the nasty things that you had dreamed of. The fantasies you had on those numerous days watching from the side lines. Park Jimin was wasted on a place like this. If only he would audition for a company of some sort. But that was a conversation for another time.

        “Don’t stop,” he breathed, his eyes closed slightly, his lips hanging open.

        “Jimin,” you whimpered, collecting the precum from his tip on your thumb.

        “Yes baby?”

        With what looked like a great deal of effort, he raised his head and looked down at you. Your smirk was confident. Ready to please. And who could blame you when you had Park Jimin in your hands?

        Your eyes locked on his, you made a show of sucking the precum off your finger. It was salty, like the popcorn that sat behind you under a lightbulb to be kept warm even though no one ever bought any. Who wanted salt when they were sweating?

        “Are you teasing me?” He asked, his smirk mirroring your own.

        You shrug, tightening your hold slightly on his penis. It twitched in your hold and he bit his lip, holding back what looked to be a painful moan. You planted a soft kiss on the underside, letting your tongue roll on the same little section before you popped off of it.

        Then, with a cheeky smile you said, “Maybe.”

        Jimin laughed deep in his chest. His whole body convulsed. You jerked your wrist and twisted slightly as he chuckled. Almost instantly, he choked on his own laughter, his muscles once again tightening. His dick twitched in your hand. What you would give to ride him right then and there on the loud ass chair, but as it was, you were kneeling so the cameras couldn’t see you. It would be too suspicious if they caught you on tape.

        “If you would have told me you were this good, I would have fucked you months ago,” Jimin said through clenched teeth as you experimentally licked the tip of his dick like the Lollipops that you always bought from the snack stand so you could have a brief conversation with the sexy roller skater when he wasn’t on the rink.

        “I’ve had lots of practice,” you joke, your lips partially on his member.

        Jimin opened his mouth to say something but suddenly, he straightened, his back ridged and his eyes wide. Without hesitation, he yanked his green and white bomber jacket and threw it over both yourself and his exposed sex.

        Your heart began to race as you heard heavy footsteps walking up to the candy counter. You were caught. There were no if’s and’s or but’s about it. Would you get arrested? Would Jimin lose his job?

        You didn’t dare move. You forced all of your consciousness to your hearing, hoping you could hear anything that would tell you in how much trouble you both were, but what you heard made your blood run cold.

        “Great job today Jiminie,” a nasally voice that you would recognize anywhere said. It dripped with honey that to you felt tainted with what could only be described as bitterness.

        “Hey! Jess! I uh…you too,” he said, moving the chair farther under the counter. You shuffled back on your knees awkwardly, careful not to hit anything and give away your position.

        Jess. So that was her name. The many practices that you’d attended had been plagued with her as well. She was Jimin’s partner after all and, to your dismay, his ex-girlfriend.

        “Well we do make a good team,” she gushed. You scrunched your nose at that. Sure, she was a graceful dancer but she was a shit person. Any time you had tried to politely compliment her on anything she did, she’d shut you down by simply ignoring you and you had noticed that she tended to do this to any girl that spoke to her.

        “But then again, we have a,” she paused and you imagined her biting her lip and pushing her boobs together in that knotted crop top with the flouncy sleeves she’s worn for the day to entice Jimin, “special understanding of how our bodies function together right…Jimin?”

        You growled under your breath, Jimin shifted uncomfortably also understanding what Jess had meant.

        “Y-yeah, ri-right,” he laughed trying to defuse the tension he clearly felt. Just then, you realized that you still had his very much erect member in your grasp. This was your chance. She had hers and whatever the reason be, you were not going to let it slip through your hands.

        You gave his erection a solid tug. His reaction was instantaneous. He jumped in his seat, the chair scraped against the concrete floor. His legs began to shake. You imagined his pretty lips formed into a surprised ‘o’. His puffy eyes wide.

        “Got you thinking, huh?” Jess said, her voice smug. You rolled your eyes knowing that no one could see you.

        Jimin’s member hardened even more. Rock hard, maybe even painfully so. A smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in and blew softly on the sensitive skin.

        A hand found its way to your head once again but this time, he was pushing you away from his sex instead of onto it but you weren’t going to give up. The material of the jacket slipped over your hair smoothly letting you get closer towards your goal.

        “Ha, yeah uh Jess so you think we could-ah,” you licked a thick wet stripe from the base of his dick up to the tip. He was leaking like crazy. Begging you, basically, to suck him off.

        “Wow Jimin,” Jess breathed clearly thinking that his reaction was for her and not for your skilled tongue, “I didn’t realize you missed me that much. Hey,” she said conspiratorially as you licked another strip up his shaft, “why don’t you and I take off of work for a bit. No one’s around…I can take care of you if you are…up to it.”

        Without even giving him time to think over her suggestion, you opened your mouth wide and let his penis fall back in where it should have been this whole time.

        Jimin hissed from above you. A tiny, almost inaudible moan, vibrated in your throat as you closed the seal and sucked wantonly. A vein in his cock pulsed against your tongue. Jimin’s legs fell apart as if to give you more room. He’d already started to buck his hips slightly into your open mouth but this time you were determined to see it through to the end.

        “Sound like a good idea? You don’t have to say it Park Jimin. I can read you like a magazine. Meet me in the men’s room in five. I have some naughty things planned for you.”

        You let go of his erection and grabbed onto his thighs so that you could pull the last inch of his length into your mouth. Jimin tensed so violently as your gag reflex kicked off once again. It convulsed around the sensitive tip.

        “Shit,” he nearly yelled. From the annoyingly sweet giggles, Jess thought that was for her as well. You found solace in knowing that it wasn’t. Knowing that the reactions he was having were solely for you and the things you were doing to him.

        It was only when the footsteps had faded and in the distance you heard a door close a little too loudly that Jimin pulled his jacket off your head. The sight he was met with was nothing more than what he considered pure heaven. Your nose was flush against his hips. Your hands wrapped loosely on his thighs. He pulled your hair out of your face so he could more clearly see your features and were it not for his experience and many a night masturbating, he might have cum right then and there.

        Determined to keep his mind on you and not on the quick fuck he could have in the bathroom if he chose to, you began to bob your head again, this time making sure that his tip hit the soft part of your throat every time. Jimin opened his legs wider still, nearly flat to the back of the chair, to give you more room to work.

        You would have smiled had your mouth not been preoccupied. Quiet, delighted sighs rang in the air with the sound of a song that you hadn’t heard before. The lights in the roller rink dimmed slightly and a disco ball dropped down. This, you only knew because you’d seen it happen enough times in a day.

        You reached under your chin and cupped his balls in your small hand, steadily massaging them. Instantly, you felt them constrict in your grasp and Jimin’s hips, which had been lightly bobbing in time with your head, stopped entirely. You had little to no warning as he pushed your head down onto his disco stick and hardened more in your mouth. You hadn’t even thought it possible but his length fell heavy on your tongue and the inside of your cheeks. Your eyes watered as a shot of cum was pushed down your esophagus, then another and another and possibly one more. You weren’t sure. You’d zoned out so that you could stop yourself from fully barfing on him and weirdly enough, it had worked. As the last stripe of hot cum hit your throat, you pulled your head off of him and sat back on your heels, your mouth full.

        You waited patiently for Jimin to catch his breath. He was sweating slightly. The heady scent of his cum and sweat was doing wonders for your libido. Finally, with heavy lids, he looked down at you and without hesitation, you opened your mouth. Filled with his white seed, you displayed your mouth full before you winked, closed your mouth and audibly swallowed it whole.

        “You’ve got to be joking,” he groaned, covering his pretty face with his ring clad fingers, “fuck you’re so hot. Get up.” He instructed.

        You tilted your head to the side like a lost dog but he gave you no further explanation. He took one of the hands resting on your jean clad legs and gently pulled you out from under the concession stand. Now that you were out in the open, you felt a little bit self-conscious about what you had done.

        Quickly, Jimin tucked himself into his underwear, still as hard as could be, and buttoned his pants. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder, his hand firmly grasping yours as he led you towards the bathrooms. Panic took over as he neared the separate restrooms, thinking he might make you have a threesome with that awful girl Jess, but with a quick wink in your direction and a shrug, he b-lined for the women’s restroom and locked the door behind him.

        Your heart calmed slightly, glad that neither you nor him were going to go to the men’s room. That is, until he turned to look at you with lust dripping from his eyes. His bulge strained against his tight jeans. All for you. The white of his shirt had become slightly patchy in some areas due to sweat. The chain around his neck hung between his pecs, his nipples clearly erect. He was sex incarnate.

        “What are we doing in the bathroom Jimin?” You asked innocently, hoping for what could only be described as the opposite of such.

        “Fuck, Angel,” he laughed taking a couple of steps towards you, his heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor, “we’re here for your turn.”

        Your doe eyes widened. Heat flushed your cheeks and excitement filled your veins. When you had propositioned Jimin earlier that day, you hadn’t thought it would lead to anything. You weren’t even expecting him to reciprocate or to even remember your name, but life was full of surprises and you had clearly done something really great in a past life to be standing there, in a roller rink bathroom with the king of sex himself, offering you a chance to fall apart at his tongue.

        “I’m going to ruin you, Angel,” he whispered, taking your cheeks in his hands and rolling your head on your shoulders. You let him maneuver you, too weak to think for yourself. He pushed your back onto the sink which had a barney purple rim around the outside that served as a table. Before you could sit yourself though, Jimin took his jacket from his shoulders and set it down as a barrier between what would soon be your bare ass and the sink table.

        “What a gentleman,” you joked, placing your hand over your heart and blinking rapidly at him.

        “Always,” he joked, squatting down so he was face to face with your jean button. He glanced up at you, making sure that you were okay with what was about to happen. You nodded eagerly, his hands working of what seemed to be their own accord to unbutton and unzip your bell bottoms. He grabbed onto the part of the jeans that began to fan out then tugged roughly.

        You held onto his shoulders and let him maneuver your pants off of you. Your heeled boots didn’t put up much of a fight. He neatly folded them and placed on the baby changing station for safekeeping and again you were struck at his thoughtfulness.

        It was when he turned around that you froze realizing that you had picked the most unsexy pair of underwear you owned. They were pure white, and high waisted like the pants you had been wearing. A tiny little bow sat right at the center of the elastic that was holding it in place. You blushed, wishing you could go back in time and tell yourself to choose literally anything other than these granny panties.

        Jimin stared at your choice of undergarments for what felt like years. His expression was blank, like he couldn’t quite make up his mind about what he wanted to do or say. You sighed, dejectedly pointing at the door. Your head down so you didn’t have to see the lust melt away from his body.

        “If you want to go with Jess instead, I understand.” She was more experienced than you were, and she had been right about one thing. She knew how Jimin’s body worked and while you had found your way around him fairly well earlier, you felt he might have more fun with someone who knew what they were doing.

        “Are you kidding me? And miss unwrapping this pretty little present? Angel, did you wear this just for me?”

        In one step, Jimin was before you, his thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes. A devious look present in his brown irises that you couldn’t place.

        “You don’t think they’re…”

        “Not even a little bit. I told you, Angel,” Jimin began, his hand traveling slowly down the valley of your breasts until it reached the elastic of your panties, “I’m going to ruin you.”

        Then he bent down, wrapping his arms around your thighs and carrying you up and onto his bomber jacket. He positioned you so that you were close to the edge to make it easier for him when he kneeled down.

        Without warning, he leaned in and took a deep whiff of your core. Humiliation thrummed through your muscles. You fought your instinct to close your legs, wanting to enjoy what he was doing.

        “Shit you smell good… and you’re so wet,” he said, more to himself than to you but the praise made you feel a little less self-conscious about the situation, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

        His lips pulled over his white teeth. He planted soft, open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs as he hooked two fingers on the elastic of your underwear. On pure instinct, you pushed yourself up off your butt, holding your weight on your palms so he could slip them off your body. He balled them up and tucked them into his pants pocket with a cheeky smirk.

        “Ready for me, Angel?”

        You barely nodded before he’d leaned in, and with his eyes locked on yours, licked a thin line up from your entrance all the way to your clit. Maybe it was all the tension from before or the fact that you were inexperienced but his tongue felt like a mixture of all the good and bad things in the world. It was wet and warm and shot a spark of something equally pleasurable and painful into your stomach.

        “Eugh, fuck you taste just like honey,” he commented, diving in once again, this time flattening his tongue so it covered more surface area. Your legs convulsed at the sensation. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was smooth and yet somehow rough. Wet but not unpleasant. He did it again, pushing it harder against your folds as It got closer to your clit which you could feel pulsating with the need to be stimulated.

        “How does that feel, baby? Good? Is Jimin oppa making you feel good?”

        You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as he flicked his tongue a couple of times over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your muscles burned with need. You wanted -no- you needed more.

        Jimin sucked the top section of your lower lips into his mouth and a loud kiss noise echoed in the restroom.

        “Answer me, angel. I need to know that what I’m doing feels good.”

        “Ngh- yes,” you whimpered, trying to keep your legs open as he rubbed the middle of his tongue on your clit over and over again. The pressure was building quickly. You wouldn’t last like this. And maybe that’s what he wanted because next thing you knew, he chuckled against your pearl then clamped his plump lips around it. You felt him pull your legs over his shoulders rather than saw him because the pleasure was too strong, too pure for you to keep your eyes open.

        You locked your heels behind his head as an obnoxiously loud moan was ripped from your throat. You felt two of his fingers push your slit open only to circle your sopping wet entrance. The anticipation was killing you. You needed to be filled.

        “Please Jimin oppa,” you begged in a high pitched breathy moan, “please touch me.”

        A guttural groan vibrated against your clit. You saw stars behind your eyes as Jimin plunged two fingers into your wet opening. He worked you open slowly, his tongue and lips never letting up. Your toes began to curl and uncurl in your boots. Your thighs were shaking on his shoulders as you got closer and closer.

        “Oppa,” you gasped, “I’m about to- ah,” and it happened. You could only see white behind your closed eyelids. You could feel Jimin’s fingers relentlessly pushing in and out of you at a good pace to help you ride out your orgasm. Over stimulation set in so quickly that your head spun and your body twitched. Your legs flew open trying to push him off of you with blind gestures and groans and moans.

        Jimin got the message and pulled his lips off your sensitive skin and slowly pulled his fingers out of your entrance. He stood, towering over you. He brought his fingers up so that you could see them and spread them wide like your legs had. Thick strings of your arousal clung to them, falling into his rings.

        “Wanna share?” He asked, sucking his index finger into his mouth and licking it clean. He moaned erotically, like it was the best dish he had ever had, then held out his middle finger to you. Hesitantly, you opened your mouth wide enough for him to slip his finger in between your lips.

        To your surprise, he had been right. You did taste sweet, almost like honey with a little bit of musk or something you couldn’t place. You greedily sucked all of your essence from his finger before you let him pull it out of your mouth.    

        “That’s a good girl,” he praised turning the fossette on and quickly washing his hands, “did you like it, Angel?”

        “Mhm,” was all you could manage as he turned over and grabbed your pants. He began to slip them on each of your legs when you realized that he hadn’t put your underwear back on. You pointed this out to him, with curious confusion and he only laughed.

        “Those are mine now. What am I supposed to do the next time I need some help and you’re not around? Be a good girl and pull your pants up for me.”

        You weren’t exactly happy about having to forgo your undergarments, but a part of you found it incredibly hot that he wanted them so you sucked up your pride and stood, pulling your pants up and buttoning them. It was slightly uncomfortable, especially since you were still a little sensitive from your orgasm but when Jimin placed his bomber over your shoulder followed by his hand, you didn’t remember to care.

        You smiled up at him, and he smiled down at you. A gleam in his puffy eyes, made you want to ravage him again.

        “Next time,” he whispered in your ear, “I’ll show you what I can really do.”

        Next time. There would be a next time! Jimin unlocked the bathroom door and opened it at the exact same time as the door to the men’s room opened. Out came a very confused looking Jess, her shirt unknotted and her hair seemingly disheveled. When her eyes landed on Jimin’s arm around you, her features turned to anger.

        In a burst of confidence, you reached into Jimin’s pocket and pulled out your white panties. You waved them around like a flag, smirked at her shocked expression, then tucked them back into his pocket so that they hung out slightly. You wrapped an arm around Jimin’s waist before you sent a wink her way.

        Jimin only chuckled as he walked you back to the main lobby. People were starting to come back to the roller rink. Jimin sighed, pushed the underwear farther into his pocket and clicked on the giant outdoor sign as it had started to get dark.

        “I’ll call you later, okay, Angel?”

        “You better,” you confirmed, turning to leave as the first customer opened the door.

        Jimin greeted them with his usual greeting as you walked out into the night, “Welcome to Dynamite Roller Rink, what size skates can I get you?”

Read the rest here!

[kerra-and-company]

spiral

The first three months after Zhaitan’s defeat. (Or, the story of how the person widely considered “the best at emotions” was once absolutely horrible at managing her own.)

Warnings: depression, self-harm (in a very Kerra-specific way), feeling worthless, cognitive distortions (Kerra gets an idea into her head that is just...inaccurate)

Word count: 4466

I’ve been trying to work on this fic for a while, and it’s been really hard because Kerra’s my OC whose mental health issues are closest to my own. But it’s done now, and I’m sure it’s not perfect, but I’m proud of it, and it means a lot to me. So, here you go; hopefully this speaks to someone else, too.

(and @mystery-salad because forever ago you mentioned that you’d be interested in seeing this fic concept if I ever wrote it!)

It happened in the span of a single moment.

Trahearne had finally, finally joined the party. Rel had gotten his lute from who knows where and was taking song requests. Destiny’s Edge was talking and laughing, and she even saw Caithe smile. Everywhere Kerra looked, her friends and the rest of the Pact were drinking, chatting, relaxing, or dancing.

And, for once, no one was watching her.

So she tilted her head back, letting the sun and confetti (who brought confetti?) cover her face, giggling at the unfamiliar touch of colorful paper scraps. She spun around, arms outstretched and eyes closed and, miraculously, managing not to hit anyone.

It was pure, utter joy combined with I’m done, I did what I was made for, I’m done and I can just be me—

Kill the dragon.

Kerra stumbled. That couldn’t be right. Zhaitan was dead, and her Hunt was—

Kill the dragon, her mind insisted.

The world didn’t stop. It would have been easier if it had. Instead, the celebration continued, with laughter and Rel’s music as omnipresent noise.

It took everything in her not to scream.

****

The Pact wanted to lift her up on a pedestal for what she’d done. And she didn’t deserve it, so she had to leave.

She wrote notes to each of her friends and left them near their things, going mostly unnoticed as she slipped out of the party. Thank you for everything you’ve done, she said. I am going to where I can help the most, and that’s not here right now. I’ll come back.

I love you.

****

Her first stop was Caledon.

Cern was pleased to see her and told her stories of his new recruits taking down a particularly large troll in the swamps. Tatli and Cueyatl welcomed her into the Hazupl camp, and a few sylvari were there, too, talking to the hylek young. Llew gave her updates on Astorea—the defenses were holding, though Nightmare Court attacks had increased of late.

The only place she stayed overnight, though, was the Weeping Isle. Eona hugged her, congratulated her, and asked after Rel. She gave bare-bones information, took care of some wave riders, and fell asleep in the same guest room she’d taken earlier that year.

In her dreams, she walked a bloody battlefield, utterly alone. She saw so many dead faces, along with the living who mourned their losses. With each one she spotted, a memory flashed. Minei and Cio screaming and fighting to get back into the fortress on Claw Island. Ceera calling her “Commander of death.” Elli’s expression as she tore into the Risen marksman. Tybalt imploring her to trust him. Trahearne asking the Pale Tree for forgiveness as they closed the gate to Fort Trinity. The hate in Tiachren’s eyes slowly turning to fear as he died.

And above it all, the incessant drumbeat of this is your fault, your fault, your fault. You were Commander and this wasn’t what you were meant for and so every death is on your head and yours alone because you made a mistake. You pursued the wrong Hunt, and you will look at what you’ve done.

The land and the bodies went up in smoke, and she welcomed the flames even as she burned, too.

Come morning, Eona found Kerra’s bed neatly made and the Commander herself long gone.

****

In Kessex, the bandits put a price on her head.

In Sparkfly, the krait learned to flee from her on sight.

In Brisban, the Inquest cursed her as their labs exploded.

Sometimes, those she helped asked for her name. She began introducing herself as Lin. It felt…maybe not right, but right-adjacent, and it gave her a sense of distance.

Sometimes, they asked her to stay—an asuran krewe who appreciated her particular brand of dragon expertise, a rough-edged gladium who saw a kindred spirit, and a small human boy who watched her train the Claypool militia with wide eyes, to name a few.

She never stayed more than a few days. It tore her apart each time.

She slept less and less.

****

Felix worried more about her with every passing day.

Kerra could feel it, and she wished he wouldn’t, but she didn’t have the words to calm him.

“You can leave, dearheart, if this is too much,” she said once, softly. “You can leave if…if I’m too much.”

Not too much, never, Felix insisted, bumping his head into her thigh and letting out a deep purr. But you’re hurt. I want to help.

“You can’t.” It came out too sharp, and they both winced. “It’s…I’m not scratched, or stabbed, or corrupted. I didn’t break a bone.” I wish I had. I wish this pain was visible. I wish I had scars for all of them.

Some nights, she considered giving herself those scars.

That doesn’t make you not hurt, Felix insisted.

Kerra had nothing to say except but I deserve it, and she knew Felix wouldn’t want to hear that. So, she just pulled him onto her lap and against her chest, burying her face in his fur, eyes dry.

****

Her thoughts wouldn’t stop chasing each other in circles. Her Wyld Hunt pulsed at the back of her mind constantly, like the beginning of a headache.

Kill the dragon.

WHICH dragon? she’d scream back. It never answered, no matter how many times she asked.

But she could function on two hours of sleep a night. She could fight. She could help.

That’s all that mattered.

****

She stopped at the Black Citadel for provisions. She’d intended to avoid Rytlock, but one of his subordinates spotted her at a vendor’s stall and (as politely as possible) dragged her to his office.

“Commander!” Rytlock said, happily standing up and pushing his paperwork to the side. “Thought you were back at Fort Trinity.”

“I was,” Kerra said, just a little too shortly. “I’m on my way to Hoelbrak.” Not entirely false; she was indeed heading in that general direction.

“On foot?” Confusion. “You didn’t waypoint or take an airship?”

“I wanted to take the scenic route.” A small smirk, and, again, not entirely a lie.

“Fine by me.” Rytlock grinned, his smile very full of teeth. “Don’t suppose you’d care to help me take out a Flame Legion post before you leave?”

“I’d be happy to,” Kerra said, smiling back and inclining her head before turning on her heel and walking out the door. Felix followed close behind.

“Commander!” Rytlock shouted after her. He muttered something about “I was saying we’d go together,” but Kerra was halfway down the stairs by then and barely heard him.

The outpost was empty within three hours. Kerra was gone in four.

****

She’d stopped shielding her mind somewhere along the line. She couldn’t remember exactly when.

Emotions swirled through her, positive and negative and in-between. Most of them left, but their imprints remained.

She kept fighting. She kept killing, when necessary, and the pain grew and grew and grew. Her burden. Hers. Deserved, she thought.

She racked up invisible scars by the thousands.

****

As much as she told herself the pain was necessary, it also was exhausting—which is how she got her first serious injury since leaving Orr, forcibly bringing her spiral to a halt.

She was at Victor’s Point with a man named Gareth and his three children. Said children had performed some sort of ritual to summon a bear. The ritual instead managed to summon several dozen bears, and soon the homestead was overrun.

While Felix helped Gareth take down a particularly large bear, Kerra heard a scream from the nearby shed and whipped around, running as fast as her legs would carry her across the snow.

A child she hadn’t met yet, a small one with short white-blond hair, was cowering under a workbench. They held a pen in their right hand like a dagger, jabbing it in the direction of yet another bear trying to stick its head under the table. It growled at them, showcasing its set of sharp teeth.

Not wanting to risk hitting the child, Kerra unsheathed her dagger and leaped on top of the bear. But she’d underestimated its ferocity and overestimated her remaining strength, and it threw her off, slamming her into the stones of the nearby fireplace.

Holding her head, she tried to get up, but its claws gauged deep marks across her chest, and she dropped her dagger at the sudden spasm of pain. She scrambled backwards, shielding the child with her own body as they screamed. Felix roared somewhere in the distance.

She struggled to stay conscious as the bear reared up on its hind legs, trying to figure out if she could muster up enough energy to kick it in the stomach. But she didn’t have to.

A blue shield appeared around her—guardian magic, she thought deliriously. Logan? The mace that whacked the bear in the head was decidedly not Logan’s, though, and Logan wasn’t that tall, and his skin wasn’t that dark. But whoever this was, the child was safe.

“Hey, stay awake!” a voice called out urgently as her eyes slid shut. She heard a distinct crack in it and felt the owner’s concern for her. Funny, she thought in an unappreciated moment of irony, for them to care so much about someone they’ve never met.

****

Kerra must have dreamed, then, but all she remembered was what woke her up—yet another whisper of kill the dragondeep in the back of her mind.

She sat up with a jolt, nearly whacking her head on the beams above her.

Her savior was talking in hushed tones to Gareth nearby, but whatever they were saying was immediately drowned out by Felix, who meowed loudly and started purring at the top of his lungs. He gently butted his head against her shoulder. Thank you for staying. Don’t leave.

“I’m—” she coughed, clearing her throat and trying to ignore what felt like the worst headache of her life. “I’m okay, ‘Lix, I’m okay, I’m still here.” She gently laid a hand on his flank, and he turned his head and licked it with his rough tongue, making her laugh weakly and then wince as the action sent a flare of pain through her body.

“You sure you’re okay?” her mysterious savior said, approaching her bedside. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

“I heal fast,” Kerra said, meeting their eyes. They were tall, but their face was young. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem,” the tall child said. “I’m Braham, he/him. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lin. She/her is fine. It’s nice to meet you, too.” A memory slotted into place, and she gasped, frantically looking around for her weapons. “Are the children all right? How long was I unconscious?”

“Easy!” Gareth said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture as he approached. “Yes, all the children are safe, and you were only out for about an hour or so.” He coughed meaningfully, and a snow-blond head peeked out from around his legs. “Mikkel is a bit shy, but he wanted me to thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mikkel,” Kerra said, her eyes softening as they met the child’s. “You were very brave, you know.”

The boy squeaked and hid again behind his father’s legs. Gareth just laughed. “I daresay he was! But that thanks comes from me as well, young one. We were lucky to have you with us today.”

“The thanks is appreciated, but unnecessary, Gareth,” Kerra replied, dipping her head a few inches. When she lifted it back up—slowly, struggling against the pounding in her head—she found Braham looking at her curiously. But he shook his head, seemingly dislodging whatever thought he’d had, and nodded.

“I’m glad you’re okay and that I could help, but I gotta get going,” he said, standing up.

“Where are you headed?” Kerra asked, leaning back slightly against the pillows.

“Hoelbrak,” Braham answered, frowning. “I need someone to help me defend my hometown, Craigstead—it’s been invaded by some group calling themselves the Molten Alliance. I figured asking Knut Whitebear was worth a shot.”

Kerra frowned, too, both at Braham’s words and at the implication of his tension and fear. “Who else did you ask?” And why didn’t you try Hoelbrak first?

“Tribune Brimstone. He didn’t believe me.”

“What didn’t he believe?”

Braham’s face closed, but she could feel his flare of anger; it wasn’t directed at her, though, not really. “With all due respect, sylvari, it’s not really your business—”

“I know Rytlock,” Kerra interrupted, ignoring Gareth’s shock and the way Mikkel’s eyes lit up. And though the last thing she wanted was to go back to Rytlock or any of her friends and hurt them again… “I can help; I’ve convinced him to get off his…behind…before. Let me help. What didn’t he believe? That your town was under attack?”

She could tell Braham wasn’t quite convinced that she was being honest, but he sighed and shrugged. “That, and the fact that my full name is Braham Eirsson. My mother—” He said the word with a disgust Kerra didn’t understand. “—is Eir Stegalkin.”

Kerra blinked. “Your mother is who?”

Braham crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

“No, I did, and I believe you—sorry. I just…” She trailed off, took a breath, and continued. “I know your mother, too, then. And I’m aware that I can’t move much at the moment, but if Whitebear doesn’t agree to help you, come back and find me. Either I’ll convince someone to help you, or I’ll do it myself.”

Surprise mixed with persistent disbelief and gratitude. “Okay, then. You’re an odd one, Lin.”

She laughed, dry and short, absorbing the flicker of pain that came with it. “So I’ve heard.” As he headed to the door, she added, “You better come back and at least let me know how things go, okay?”

It was Braham’s turn to laugh, though his was more sincere. He did a goofy half-bow-half-salute and said lightly, “You’ll be on my way, so sure thing, boss.”

****

Kerra wanted to leave. Gareth and his wife and his children were absolutely lovely, and she didn’t deserve any of it. But she was trapped in bed, healing. Careless.

She slept most of the time, waking up only to eat and pet Felix and thank Mikkel for bringing her water. Part of her wished she could just stay asleep, and part of her was absolutely desperate to move, to get out, to go anywhere but here where she was a burden and could do nothing. Always, constantly, back and forth.

I need to move.

You can’t.

I need to help.

You can’t do that, either.

I need to be worth something.

But you’re not.

I need you to shut up.

But I won’t.

I…I need my friends. And I need Trahearne and Caithe.

But you left them. They’re probably all angry with you.

You don’t know that.

And even if they’re not, you don’t deserve them.

…

Am I wrong?

****

On her fourth day at Victor’s Point, Kerra received a visitor.

Raised voices outside woke her. She rolled over to face the door, bringing her knees closer to her chest under the blankets.

“—asked you to state your business, sylvari.” Gareth’s voice. He was on edge and slightly angry.

“And I told you, I’m looking for Kerra. Is she here or not?”

Kerra’s eyes flew open in shock and recognition.

“There is no one by that name staying here,” Gareth replied. “I strongly suggest you try the next homestead.” A feeling of preparedness, as if his hand was on the hilt of his weapon.

Before she could think it through, Kerra called out, “Nisha?”

A brief scuffle and a shout, and the door banged open. Nisha’s clothes looked wrinkled, though still passably clean, and xe stood as tall as ever. And xe was scared and upset and relieved and so many other things that Kerra didn’t have the brainspace to work through.

Felix, however, didn’t have that problem. He leapt forward, and a very startled Nisha caught him in xyr arms. Xe stumbled backward into Gareth, who burst out laughing, animosity gone.

“Well, all right then! Lin, I see you know this person. Is it fine if I leave you two…” He glanced at a very loudly purring Felix, eyes twinkling. “Or you three to catch up?”

Nisha’s gaze caught hers and locked in, like the sight on one of xyr rifles.

Say yes.

Say no.

Say yes.

Say no. Say NO.

“Yes,” Kerra choked out, quiet but audible.

“Wonderful! I’ll be outside if you need me.” The door softly clicked shut behind him.

Silence for a few beats. Three, two, one.

Kerra took a deep breath and straightened, sitting up fully. “Hey,” she said tentatively.

Nisha gently set Felix down, a fierce edge in xyr eyes. Felix curled up next to the bed, eyes darting between the two.

“Hey?” Nisha repeated incredulously. “Hey?!”

Kerra flinched, and Nisha snapped xyr mouth shut with an audible click. When xe spoke next, xyr tone was flat. “Where have you been, exactly?”

“Helping people,” was all Kerra could say.

Nisha exhaled, frustration seeping off xem in waves. “My apologies. I should have phrased that better. Why did you leave Fort Trinity?”

“To help people,” Kerra repeated, helplessly.

“Why couldn’t you help people there?! I-I—” Nisha’s face twisted, though Kerra could see xem struggling to hide it. “You left us! And you didn’t say where you were going, not even to Trahearne or Caithe or my brother.” Xyr hand clenched into a fist, gripping and bunching up the fabric of xyr pants.

She had let them down. They were mad—at least Nisha was, and if xe was, probably everyone else was, too. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she started, “I’m s—”

“Do you have ANY idea how SCARED we were?!” Nisha shouted.

Kerra’s world screeched to a halt.

Wait. What?

“We could have lost you, and we would have had no way of knowing! You could have died, or disappeared, and none of us would have been able to do anything to stop it! We were terrified for you! And not because you’re not capable,” xe added hastily, brushing away tears on xyr own cheeks, and she’d made Nisha cry, she’d done that to xem, she’d hurt xem— “You are perhaps the best fighter I’ve ever met. That doesn’t mean you can’t die.”

Something cracked in Kerra’s heart.

“Why do you—what about all the people who died because of me?” she shouted back, her voice breaking. She threw herself out of bed and onto her feet, the blankets falling in a disorganized tangle behind her. “What about them?”

“What—we were fighting an Elder Dragon! People were going to die!” Both of Nisha’s fists were clenched now. “And I hate that, but it’s the truth! If you’re saying that you think we could have made it all the way to Zhaitan with no casualties—”

“No, no, I’m not, I—all their deaths are my fault!” Kerra’s tone made Felix’s ears flatten, and she ignored Nisha’s rush of utter shock. “I don’t understand why you’d want to find me!”

“Why in Tyria would they all be your fault?” Xyr brow furrowed, and xe took one step towards her. “I disagree with the basic principle, but even if the deaths were entirely on the Pact leadership, shouldn’t they also be Trahearne’s—”

“NO!”

“Why not?!”

“BECAUSE I WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE THE COMMANDER!”

The room went dead silent. Kerra abruptly realized she was breathing hard and sat down on the edge of her bed.

“I was given a Wyld Hunt to fight and kill a dragon, Nisha,” she said, staring down at her hands. “The Pale Mother and Caithe both told me that the dragon was Zhaitan, but it clearly wasn’t, because Zhaitan is dead, and my Wyld Hunt is very much still there. Which makes this the wrong path for me, and therefore every action I’ve taken that’s led to where we are, with so many dead, is my fault. I should have figured out I was targeting the wrong dragon, I should have done better, I should have…” She trailed off, overwhelmed.

Silence again. When Kerra looked up, she met Nisha’s eyes, staring directly into hers. Sadness. Anger. Frustration.

Xe cleared xyr throat twice before speaking. “You write your own future, Ker. You’re not beholden to that one.”

“But Mother told me—”

“Mothers can be WRONG!” The fabric of Nisha’s coat tore with a soft ripping sound. But just like with Braham, the anger wasn’t directed at Kerra.

“I was given this Hunt by the Dream!”

“Shoots and thorns!” Nisha yelled, xyr voice cracking. “Why are you so certain you chose wrong, that you made some sort of mistake? You can still complete your Hunt! You can go after all the dragons! And you know why you have that option?” Desperation. Determination. “Because of everything you’ve done, because you’re the Commander, whether or not your Mother and the Dream originally thought you should be! You took down Zhaitan! You proved that Elder Dragons can be defeated, and now you don’t have to fight them alone!”

Xe took a deep breath. “Yes, people died, and it’s horrible.” New tears pooled in xyr eyes. “I…I still miss Sieran. But their deaths are not all your fault, and you saved so many lives, too, and…and I brought these.”

Xe shrugged off xyr pack and fiddled around inside it, pulling out a stack of papers and dropping them on Kerra’s lap. She just blinked.

Nisha sighed, more out of frustration with xemself than with Kerra. “Can you just look at them, please?”

Kerra spread out the papers, making sure to catch a few stray sheets before they fell to the floor.

They were notes, every single one of them written in a different hand. In a quick scan, Kerra saw Caithe’s graceful but clear cursive, Elli’s “i's” dotted with little hearts, and Minei’s deliberately blocky print. She looked back up at Nisha.

“What…what are these?”

“It was Rel’s idea,” xe said, now looking anywhere but Kerra. She could feel xem trying to rein in xyr emotions, though it was a bit late for that. “You gave us all some, so he thought that, if I could find you, I should give you some from all of us.”

Words upon words upon words. Her eyes were drawn to them as if by a magnet.

From Demmi: Thanks for believing in me.

From Cio: You saw past the fire, and you’re one of the few.

From Trahearne: You are the reason I didn’t give up, little sister.

From Shashoo: Quaggan believes in you, Commander!

From Riel: You do good work, agent. Keep it up.

From Elli: Keep fighting, Kerry. You’re damn good at it.

From Minei: They’re not saying why we’re writing these, but you better come back so I can thank you in person.

From Caithe: You showed me new purpose, Valiant. Thank you.

From Rel: You’re my best friend, Ker, and I love you. Stay safe.

And there were more, from soldiers she’d talked to once or sparred with or comforted, and some from people she’d never met. They said thank you and you led us to victory and you saved me and you were a friend when I needed one and many, many variations.

Nisha coughed, and when xe spoke, xyr voice was thick. “I didn’t write one. I’m not a writer. But thank you, Kerra. You’re the third friend I’ve ever made, and I’m so glad I met you.”

“Can I hug you?” Kerra blurted, nearly cutting xem off. She didn’t expect xem to say yes, but she desperately hoped—and then the notes were being carefully placed on the desk, and Nisha was next to her on the bed with xyr arms around her, and Felix was purring loudly from his spot on the floor as he told her I love you, too.

Kerra hugged xem back tightly, hiding her face in xyr shoulder, and they stayed that way until both their shirts were soaked with tears.

****

An indeterminable amount of time later, Kerra pulled away, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I can’t do this on my own, you know,” she said, the corner of her mouth pulling upwards. I can’t go back alone. I won’t feel better if I’m alone. I need help, and I need my friends, and maybe that’s okay for me, too, just like it’s okay for everyone else. She met Nisha’s eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

“I just found you,” Nisha said, quiet but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Kerra smiled in earnest, then. “Good. Because you can’t do this alone, either.”

“I beg your pardon?” Nisha said, eyebrows raising. Surprise. Indignance. Acceptance.

“Neither of us are okay,” Kerra said, thinking of Nisha shouting about mothers (and Nisha shouting at all, when xe always stayed so composed). “And we have other people—other friends, our siblings—but…” She felt her glow flare, warming her face. “I’ll help you, when you need it, and you’ll help me when I need it. That’s the deal.”

“I wasn’t aware we were making a deal.” Amusement. Warmth.

Kerra dipped her head slightly, never breaking eye contact. “We are.” Her smile grew. “You know,” she said cheekily, “you really shouldn’t question your Commander—”

“You are aware that I’m not technically part of the Pact, right?” Nisha interrupted.

It was barely even a joke, but it shattered whatever tension remained. Kerra burst into slightly broken (but still genuine) laughter, the calm after the storm. She felt Nisha’s happiness and saw xyr grin, and it pushed back the flood farther.

It was just enough. For the first time in weeks, she pulled up her shields, shutting the world’s emotions out. It was a relief and a letting go, and she almost started crying again, but Nisha’s presence held her together.

She was far from okay—the drumbeat of it’s all your fault and the Hunt’s repetition of kill the dragon were still very much there in her head. But people cared about her. She had proof of that, though she still didn’t understand it. She was important to them, so she had to keep herself safe.

Maybe someday she’d be able to do that just for herself.

For now, she’d take the help, and she’d start to heal. And when Braham came back, she’d leave, with Nisha.

But it was all right to stay here, just for now. She was safe, and she was loved.

And she felt like she was home.

[stormkrigeren]

Whumptober Day 1!

Link to the Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210837/chapters/85120435

Title: Bound - Lois

Prompt: No. 1 ‘All Trussed Up And Still Nowhere To Go’ - “You have to let go”, barbed wire, bound

Word Count: 2475

Lois preferred rope over handcuffs, and duct tape over rope. Duct tape was best because it was surprisingly easy to break, but she was rarely lucky enough to be tied up with it. Lois could tell that today wasn’t her lucky day the moment the goon wrapped a length of plastic boating rope around her wrists and yanked it tight.

She loved her job. The title of ‘investigative reporter’ practically gave her a free pass to be as nosy as she liked (and Lois was admittedly quite nosy) while also revealing the truth on a variety of issues, affairs, and dealings. No one would blink twice if she walked into a warzone or gang territory or some crooked mogul’s office with a pen handy and far too many questions in her head, and no one was surprised when her life was threatened only for her to diffuse the situation a few minutes later. That was just how Lois worked, and she loved it.

The one and only issue with her job was the fact that if her life wasn’t being threatened, her freedom probably was. Sometimes it would just be a threat to get her so discredited that no one would ever publish her works again, removing her freedom of speech, but Lois was good at her job and no one ever found anything to discredit her on. So more often than not whatever fraudulent idiot she had revealed that day would instead tie her up and leave her in a warehouse somewhere until either the police or her boss showed up with a ransom because investigative reporters, especially ones named Lois Lane, were surprisingly valuable (the highest number she’d ever heard was close to a million, which of course didn’t pan out, but it was interesting to think about).

Today had started out pretty normally - Lois had woken up, gotten ready for the day, and taken the subway to work like she usually did. Upon arriving at the Daily Planet’s Head Offices in the Upper East Side of the city, she had clocked in and gotten to her desk with the intention of kicking off the work day with a little bit of research and note-taking in preparation for her interview with some S.T.A.R Labs higher-ups that afternoon. The company had received a contract from the Department of Defense to investigate and research the Kryptonian scout ship that had crashed in downtown Metropolis and was now in government custody. Any Kryptonian 'artifacts’ found in or around the ship were catalogued by S.T.A.R Labs before being transferred to various labs and other research companies around the nation for studying, the biggest transfers usually being made to the S.T.A.R facilities in Central City and Metropolis, and third-party contractors such as Kord Industries, LexCorp, and WayneTech. The distribution of findings for individual research was all well and good, but a whistleblower had recently come to Lois with some disturbing finds: some of the artifacts, especially alien weapons, were disappearing from large shipments without a trace.

When the time of the interview drew near, Lois checked in with Perry before catching a taxi to the S.T.A.R Labs headquarters downtown. Her appointment was with a few scientists from the company’s board of directors that worked with the Kryptonian scout ship the most, and luckily for them, all three of them had enough tact to not back out of the meeting when they realized that the reporter the Daily Planet had sent over was in fact a lady on the high road to a Pulitzer Prize. A board room was procured for their usage, and Lois, being well-familiar with the drill, started her recording app, pulled out her notes, and started doing what comprised the bulk of her job as an investigative journalist: asking questions.

How was work on the Kryptonian scout ship progressing? Had any significant discoveries or breakthroughs been made so far? What sort of artifacts were they dealing with, and how did they decide which ones to distribute for outside research? Were the scout ship’s contents primarily weapons, or other items? What was the company’s response to rumors about misplaced shipments?

The scientists happily answered her questions, occasionally going off on a tangent about some discovery or the supposed usage of some unknown object but otherwise provided Lois with some pretty good fuel for her next article up until she came to the final question. All three of the researchers shifted uncomfortably in their seats and exchanged the briefest of nervous glances before Dr. Rhems, the head consultant for their Kryptonian armaments division, launched into a spiel about how their cataloguing system was infallible and they had not seen any evidence that items were missing, the rumors had to be false or else they would have known. To solidify his claim, he even offered to show her their records and prove that whatever data people were basing their opinions off of had to be wrong. Lois immediately took him up on the offer.

Taking his fellow scientists’ leave, Dr. Rhems led her through the building before finally stopping outside a door that supposedly led to where the Labs kept their records pertaining to the Kryptonian artifact research program.

“You have to understand, Miss Lane, that S.T.A.R Labs is not the only facility performing research on Kryptonian weaponry,” he explained as he fished a key card out of his pocket, nearly dropped it, and finally managed to tap it against the scanner beside the door, “It’s quite possible that one of the other contractors involved in the program may simply not be cataloguing their artifacts correctly-”

“They are,” Lois snapped back as she followed him through the doorway, “The issue is within your own company. The records available to the public show that half of the missing items disappear while still in your system. I know this seems a little far-fetched, Dr. Rhems, but it's looking like there are some shady dealings going on within your facility to steal Kryptonian weapons, and possibly other items, without your knowledge.”

“That’s impossible! This is one of the most secure facilities in the state, and every one of our employees has undergone rigorous background examinations. Surely this must be some sort of journalistic ploy to discredit S.T.A.R Labs, Miss Lane-”

“With all due respect, Dr. Rhems, please stop trying to dissuade me before I’ve seen your evidence against the so-called ‘rumors’. I’ll make my decision on what to tell the public once you can prove to me that the accusations aren’t true.”

Dr. Rhems paused at that, stopped in front of a laboratory workstation and glanced quickly between Lois and the racks of Kryptonian armaments on the far side of the room - apparently this lab was where they were stored for cataloging and documentation.

“Well,” the doctor said finally, “if you’re so sure you cannot be persuaded...”

The scientist tapped a button on the workstation’s keyboard and Lois distinctly heard the door behind her lock shut with a hydraulic hiss and low shunking sound. Before she even had time to turn around, Dr. Rhems was pulling what looked too much like a genuine Kryptonian sidearm for comfort out of his labcoat and levelling it at her head. There was no doubt in her mind that it was real, and Lois should know - she had used one.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Miss Lane,” Dr. Rhems confessed, “But I am going to have to ask you to comply while Caleb ties you up - don’t want you getting away before we’ve come to an agreement, you see.”

At his behest, mostly because she was unable to do otherwise with a Kryptonian sidearm pointed at her, Lois took a seat in the chair the scientist pointed to and waited in silence to see what he would do next. Dr. Rhems typed another command into the workstation console and the door unlocked to slide open just enough for a nervous-looking intern to slip inside before the door locked shut again. The young man had apparently been given orders to follow them and wait outside the lab until his boss let him in, and after a brief, curious glance in the reporter’s direction, he immediately got to the task assigned by fetching a length of plastic rope - the kind typically used for camping due to its lightweight nature - from a desk drawer and using it to tie Lois’ hands behind her back. Under Dr. Rhems supervision, he tied the knots as tight as he could before proceeding to tie her ankles to the chair legs, and though Lois hated to admit it, she was thoroughly stuck where she was.

“You can’t keep me here for long,” Lois reminded Dr. Rhems, holding back a wince when the uncomfortable cordage bit into her ankles and resisting the urge to give Caleb a solid kick to the nose went he bent down to adjust the rope, “My editor will wonder where I am if I don’t check in soon, not to mention the fact that I’m legally under the protection of both the US government and the Kryptonian remnant. I just have to scream ‘Superman’ and someone will be here within ten seconds.”

If she stated that last sentence a little louder than necessary, Dr. Rhems didn’t notice and simply cocked the blaster (improperly, Lois noted) as Caleb finished tying her up, “You won’t scream. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I will,” Lois answered, resisting the urge to smirk. Dr. Rhems apparently had enough confidence to do so himself, and shook his head self-assuredly.

“As you said earlier, Miss Lane, you should wait to hear my side of the story before forming an opinion,” he stated calmly, “Let’s start with a simple fact: alien artifacts created in and designed to be used in an environment different from Earth are a little difficult, and expensive, to maintain. Sure, the technology works here, but until we can fully understand it, we have to ensure that it does not deteriorate or lose function when not used properly. I would read you a few excerpts from my paper on the apparent bio-technological advancements in Kryptonian technology that make their mechanism borderline-organic, so simultaneously holding some level of innate intelligence or purpose but also being susceptible to deterioration if not maintained, but we don’t have time for that now.

“Without going into too much detail, S.T.A.R Labs is not getting the funding it needs from the Department of Defense. No significant advances or research is able to be done without money, Miss Lane, and we don’t have a lot of it,” Dr. Rhems continued, “The solution? Getting rid of artifacts we do not have the facilities to maintain while also making a little bit of cash - in short we’ve been selling Kryptonian technology to foreign buyers.”

“You mean stealing and profiting off of property of the US government, not to mention that the UN is currently trying to rule both artifacts and the scout ship itself as property of the Kryptonian remnant,” Lois corrected him. Damn, she was pretty sure she was losing feeling in her hands considering how tightly the intern had bound her, but if she could just slip one hand out of the rope…

“Everyone knows the UN won’t succeed in the ruling - that technology is far too valuable to belong to a couple of do-gooder extraterrestrials,” Dr. Rhems answered, “And before you ask what I’m going to do with you or why I’ve decided to tell you all this, the answers are simple: I’m going to ransom you and get a bit of extra ‘funding’ out of it, and once your ransom has been paid and you are released, you are going to write me an article about the corruption going on in our own Department of Defense that has led to the gross underfunding of essential research facilities such as S.T.A.R Labs.”

“And just who do you think is going to pay my ransom?” Lois asked. Her plan was to keep him talking, keep his focus off her and the fact that after rubbing the skin raw and nearly spraining her wrist, she had just about managed to get her right hand out of Caleb’s tightly-but-poorly-tied attempt at binding her up. Poor kid - he hadn’t done too bad of a job considering that typing would be a pain-in-the-ass tomorrow, but it wasn’t enough to keep Lois off her game. Dr. Rhems was still going off about who he was going to call for the money for her release when she got both hands free, and right on time the thick laboratory door crumpled beneath a hand strong enough to bend steel as Superman himself stepped into the room. Lois wasted no time when the two S.T.A.R Lab scientists were distracted by his arrival, and she lunged at Dr. Rhems to knock the blaster out of his distracted grip, cock it for firing (properly, she noted), and point it at the bastard’s head.

“Well, Dr. Rhems,” she couldn’t help but announce with a smirk, “It looks like I was right about those missing shipments.”

V*V*V*V*V*V*V

It was Perry who picked her up from the S.T.A.R Labs facility after Lois was done giving her account to the police - part of her wished it had been Superman who flew her back to the Daily Planet offices, but he was still busy talking with an officer about the two scientists who had been holding Miss Lane hostage - and after a short drive back to the familiar newspaper building, it was Clark who first noticed the blisters covering her wrists and insisted on getting the first aid kit to treat them. Still, Lois ended up looking after the injuries herself, mostly because Clark, despite his kindness, strength, and adorable handsomeness, was a bit on the squeamish side and still had work to do. It wasn’t the worst she had ever dealt with - her wrists only required some antibacterial cream and bandages, whereas her left ankle had nearly been sprained when she lunged at Dr. Rhems with her feet still tied to the chair and required a bit more care in the form of an ice pack. Despite her injuries, Lois was having a pretty damn fine day - her typing skills weren’t as affected as she had imagined, her phone had still been recording throughout the whole hostage situation, and she had enough evidence pieced together to make the leading story of the evening edition. A sprained ankle and wrists that were raw as fuck after trying to wriggle her way out of plastic boating rope of all things were a small price to pay for the front page.