#and cal has so much to learn about the force still and he’s spent the last 5 years of his life on bracca

[apricotsandcandles]

personally i’d be pretty disappointed if cal and merrin have a romantic storyline in jedi survivor, bc even though they have an interesting dynamic together as both being some of the last of their people, i just can’t imagine them as anything more than friends. and i know that a lot of people like them as a couple and i wouldn’t be surprised if it did happen, but i just don’t want it to😩

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 2

Astarion x gn!reader (Upcoming NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: During your honeymoon, you learn that the prince is much more than meets the eye.

Warnings: Blood drinking, brief mentions of nausea, neglected parenting. Brief, non-graphic descriptions of injuries. Insinuations of abuse.

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on the first chapter! This idea has taken over my life and I'm so happy to see that you all feel the same way about the concept of Prince Astarion. All the comments truly made my day and inspired me so much, so thank you! Without further ado, enjoy chapter two!

You’ve been infected by this place from the very first day.

You hadn’t realized it then, standing in front of Erelin with shaking hands, swallowing down a feeling that you couldn’t quite describe. It was nothing as simple as loss, or raw as grief; not large, or sharp, or invasive. Just a small, quiet numbness that you couldn’t pinpoint the cause of. Not at the time, at least. 

You certainly hadn’t known that it would spread through you like a disease. Little pieces of aching, eating you away from the inside out until you became one big, empty thing. And yet, now that the feeling is whole, it’s become all too clear. Now, as you lay in a warm bed with a stranger at your side, you can finally place it. 

Your own life is being robbed from you. 

One by one, experiences that should be yours, that should be special, are stolen away. They’re replaced by memories that are boring, or empty, or tainted. Occasions that come without an ounce of substance. Your wedding… gods, it was meant to mean something. It was supposed to be a day shared with someone you care about, not someone you barely tolerate. 

And now, here you are, about to be dragged off for your honeymoon, and it feels more like an extended form of torture than time spent with a loved one.

Granted, none of this is Astarion’s fault. He’s lost just as much as you have from this whole affair, if not more. Still, that knowledge doesn’t stop the sensation of loss. It’s bad enough to not be in control, but it’s so much worse knowing what could have been. 

Even before the sun rises, the thought disrupts your sleep, keeps you awake in the early silence. Perhaps you should let it go, but you can’t bear to discard the pieces of your old life so easily. If you’d had your way, your wedding would have been fun. Dancing, singing, laughing - real laughing, that is. Cal would have given a toast, and you wouldn’t have had to lie about being in love. It would have been the truth. You would have just been allowed to be. You and whoever it would have been, that is.

Gods, the only time you’d really even felt anything of substance yesterday was during the kiss. And you hadn’t meant to. It had just… happened. His hand on your jaw, your hand fixed tight to his shirt. It’s not even been a day, but you already know one thing for certain: that small, sweet taste of something real is going to drive you mad for the rest of your life.

You’re almost grateful when a knock comes at the door, even though you don’t move. You’re warm and entirely comfortable, and getting up means talking and feeling used and a number of other things that you can’t quite force yourself to face yet. Then another knock comes, louder this time, and the person next to you stirs.

From his side of the bed, Astarion sits up, swearing under his breath. “Yes, we’re up!” he calls, his voice tinged with sleep.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, and despite his promise of being up, Astarion slumps right back into bed. He looks… peaceful, almost. Mussed hair. A completely relaxed face. You’d like to join him in sleeping, but you don’t dare. He may not be afraid of his mother, but you certainly are.

When you finally get to your feet, you find that the servants have left you an outfit in the nearby closet. You’re halfway through getting dressed when - from the sound of it - Astarion finally gets out of bed, letting out another round of curses. When you emerge from the curtain, he’s combing his hair, not bothering to use the mirror. 

The mirror that… isn’t there, you realize. There’s not one to be found in the entire room, not even on the vanity. Do they want you to go out looking like a mess?

Astarion doesn’t seem concerned in the least. He grabs a change of clothes, slips behind the curtain, and looks as pristine as ever when he comes out. You envy him and despise him all at once.

After a short while, another knock sounds at the door before it flies open, revealing a very tired Erelin. Dark circles rim her eyes again. She moves slowly, grimacing - as if the very act of having her eyes open brings her pain. “Good. You’re dressed,” she says. “Come along now, you’d better eat. The carriage will be here soon.”

Once you get to the kitchens, you start shoveling food in your mouth to get out in time. Astarion, meanwhile, disappears. You’re not sure where he goes, but he doesn’t return until after you’ve eaten. When he gets back, he says nothing to you, and you suppose it’s not any of your business. Which doesn’t stop you from wondering where he’d gone.

After being shoved into the carriage along with some pre-packed suitcases, you and Astarion mostly sit in silence. He looks deep in thought, and you have no idea what to talk to him about. You’re not sure if you even want to talk to him. After a while, he pulls out a book and begins reading, and you curse yourself for not thinking to bring anything to keep yourself entertained.

You haven’t the faintest clue where you’re going. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if you knew? Is Astarion in the dark just as much as you are, or has his mother been giving him the privilege of actually knowing what his life will look like? 

A sudden flare of anger tears through your chest like a heated dagger, and you have to clench your hands into fists to avoid doing something you regret. 

You hate this. All of it. How powerless you are to it, the loss of the control you’d once had. Two months ago, you were waking up in your own home, going wherever you pleased, never being told what to wear or how to act. Now you’re stuck in this world, being used, ignored, or having your skin practically scrubbed off, and for what? A selfish political move? A kingdom you’ve never even seen? 

These rebels - they’re putting their lives on the line with their displays, but can the kingdom of Calthir really represent something worth that much risk? You don’t even have a clue. Perhaps if you’d been raised with a better knowledge of it, but no, Cal had taken special measures to keep you in the dark . You’re really only certain of one thing: if the queen had wanted you to marry her only son, then she must have been scared. These can’t have been miniscule protests. There must be something larger at hand; a movement, or uprising. 

You’re curious about what these people are like, but you’re far more interested to see what they would think of you. Would you disappoint them? Do they despise you for having taken the safe route - for choosing this life over torture, or dying for a kingdom you’ve never known?

Yet… Erelin hadn’t wanted to kill you. She’d still had a use for you then. What would happen if that use suddenly went away, now that it’s been put into motion? You hadn’t considered it when you were in front of her, honestly. You’d thought only of survival, because that’s all you’ve ever really known. How to take care of yourself.

So what would happen if you were to swing open the door of the carriage and jump? To run as fast as your feet could carry you, hiding among the woods until finding shelter?

You have nothing with you but the clothes on your back - the ridiculously heavy ones. Not exactly an ideal for sprinting through the woods, and that’s not even mentioning all the other factors. No weapons, no supplies. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that it’s been set up that way. 

Still, you do know your way around plants, and you can track and hunt. You could probably pick up some meals here or there. You doubt Astarion would really care if you left. He’d probably be delighted, in fact.

But would it be enough to get by? Could you outrun her men, hide your tracks well enough to get away? Would you live a life of freedom, or would she drag you right back? And for the love of the gods, why hadn’t you thought about this before getting married? 

It’s like you’ve been sleeping for the last month. You’re finally awake, finally aware of what a full life of this will mean and just how suffocating it is. You want nothing more than to jump out and never return, but the side of you that wants you to survive rather than live is holding on by its nails.

For a long while, you consider it - adding up your skills in your mind as if they’ll reach a threshold that says, alright, jump, you’ll make it through. But the threshold doesn’t exist. There is no ‘right’ number of skills that will tell you whether or not you’ll get away, or if you’ll make it out there and find your freedom again.

“You shouldn’t do it, you know,” Astarion tells you, stirring you from your thoughts. His book has been set on his thigh, and he’s watching you intently. He couldn’t possibly know what you’re thinking. Could he?

You force your expression into something nonchalant. “Do what?” you ask.

“Run.” He tilts his head, analyzing your expression as he drums his fingers on the book’s cover. “You are thinking of it, aren’t you? She’d never let you get away.”

You don’t have to ask who he’s referring to - though, part of you wonders whether he’s trying to scare you. His loyalties surely would lie with his mother over you. He could be trying to get you to stay, knowing that your disappearance will cause her a massive headache. Or… knowing that you actually have a chance to get away.

When you say nothing, he shakes his head. “Don’t be a fool, darling. She took your blood. It’ll be used to track you, and she won’t be so polite when you get dragged back. She can’t stand when something of hers gets taken away.”

You’re so repulsed by being described as something of hers that your nails dig into your palms, stinging at the already-raw flesh. Erelin doesn’t own you. You aren’t… some trinket of hers. Gods. Can you even believe a word Astarion is saying? Your head is telling you that he’s lying for her, but… for some reason, your gut is telling you it’s the truth.

Then, a horrific thought crosses your mind.

“Will she hurt you if I go?” you ask.

He scoffs. “Her cherished heir?” he asks mockingly. “She wouldn’t dream of it. It’s you she’ll hurt, dearest, not me.”

A million questions run through your mind as you stare at him, trying desperately to decipher his motives. “Then why say anything? You don’t care what happens to me.”

He tilts his head. “How very true - I don’t! So glad we’ve gotten that out of the way.” He pauses. “That being said, this carriage ride is incredibly long, and if you jump out and run, it’ll take even longer. We’ll have to stop the carriage, the guards will have to get off and find you - oh, and they will find you, by the way. In the meantime, I’ll have to sit here, waiting even longer for your ridiculous debacle to end. So, pretty please, spare me your little escape, and just keep put, hm?”

His words sink in slowly, seeping through you like poison. Spite has never been so potent. It floods your senses, settles on your tongue with a strangely metallic aftertaste, washes over your vision in a sheen of red. Your hand places itself on the door handle of the carriage and almost, almost, tugs it open, wanting nothing more than to make him sit and wait. 

Gods, he’s intolerable. 

Still, you have the feeling that your opening to escape has come and gone. You’re not exactly keen on getting tortured, so... another time, maybe. When you have a better chance at survival. For now, you don’t dare to speak to Astarion again, lest you bite off your tongue in anger - or worse. 

When the two of you finally arrive at your destination, a guard opens the door for you. Behind him, a cool breeze floods into the stuffy carriage, and you’re more than happy to jump out and follow as long as it means getting away from Astarion. 

This place is so large you can hardly believe it exists. Thick stone pillars form the foundations of a giant building, looming in the midst of thick brush. There are trees as far as the eye can see, and birds sing in the distance. You can hear a stream somewhere near - you’ll have to take a look around, if they let you. You have to admit, this place really isn’t so bad. 

If only Astarion wasn’t here. 

The next few days pass by quickly, half decent and half miserable. The guards let you take walks as long as you’re in clear sight, and you spend most of the time in an open clearing with your feet dipped into the nearby stream, reveling in the plant life around you. You start sneaking things, too - foods that’ll keep for a while, a silver necklace, a knife from dinner. It’s not very sharp, but it’s better than nothing. 

The miserable bit comes any time you’re forced to spend with Astarion, which - unfortunately - is a large amount of time. The guards take you both into town, and the two of you walk through the shops arm in arm, pretending that you don’t hate each other. His pet names become more pointed. You often fantasize about digging an elbow into his ribs. You go to bed at an early hour to avoid speaking to him, and you ignore each other in the mornings. It’s better that way.

A few days into this schedule, something strange pulls you from your sleep. Half-awake, you just manage to register the soft, nearly imperceptible sound of Astarion slipping from the bed. You keep your eyes closed and remain silent, listening to the whisper-quiet sound of his footsteps before the door creaks open and clicks shut. 

And where are you going, Astarion? you think to yourself. It’s much too late for any remotely normal activities to be taking place out there, but you aren’t in much of a mood to move. For a few minutes, you lay in bed, waiting for him to return, but when your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open, you decide that it really isn’t that important to you. 

He’s back in the morning, and you don’t mention his absence.

The next night, though, your growing curiosity demands an experiment: staying up to see if he’ll leave again. It takes hours of waiting in silence, trying to keep your mind active so you don’t drift off. You think about everything you possibly can: Astarion, Cal, your home. Erelin, the wedding, Astarion. Damn him. If only you could wipe your mind clear of him and be done with it. 

Just as you’re about to give into sleep, he finally stirs. 

He slips out of bed like a ghost, nothing but the whisper of sheets and soft, cautious steps. Has he been doing this every night? Is it a form of strange royal ritual? You wouldn’t put it above him or Erelin to be bathing in blood to keep forever young, honestly. But when the door creaks shut behind him, you shoot up, wide awake and heart pounding like a drum.

You really shouldn’t follow him. Gods - of course you shouldn’t. Who knows what the hells he’s up to, or what he’d do if he catches you. Still… the image of him in the gardens, bloody and imperfect, hasn’t left your mind for even a moment since you’d met him. Not fully. 

The unsaid question churns like an itch in your mind, never finding any relief and never, ever waning. If what he’s doing now is any explanation for that, then you need to know. Your feet are on the floor before you know it - you’re following after him like someone possessed, gingerly shutting the door behind you. Well, if nothing else, this should be interesting.

Astarion is already much further down the hall, stepping quickly and lightly, and within moments you’re trailing him - which is not an easy task. He’s surprisingly stealthy and you have to keep a healthy distance, ducked into the shadows and desperately trying to keep quiet. The air is so cold that your teeth nearly start chattering, and all the moving around you’re doing barely helps.

What is he up to at this hour, sneaking around like this? And where in the hells are all the guards? They’d been there earlier, staring at you as if warning you not to try anything. Now, they’re all missing. Or… posted somewhere else.

When you realize he’s headed straight into the forest, your suspicions triple. You even pause a moment, frozen as you take in the dark shadows of the trees. There could be any number of things in those woods, and you’re not dressed for any of the possible occasions. Then again, neither is he, and you don’t want to have come all this way only to turn back now. 

Apparently, your self-preservation is particularly lacking tonight. You keep following.

Astarion treks through the woods with velvet tread, slipping nimbly across the branches and roots. Your feet mirror his movements as best as you can, but it really is a marvel how he moves like that. When he comes to a sudden stop, you’re forced to shield yourself behind a tree and wait it out, praying you won’t lose him. 

For a moment, there’s only the faint howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves. Then, a sharp squeal. Your hands start trembling. Your mouth goes dry.

As you finally find it in yourself to look, it takes a moment to find Astarion among the shadows, the silver veil of moonlight that streams through the leaves. When you do, you just about bite off your tongue trying not to make a noise.

Below him is a dead boar, and - well, he’s drinking from it. Or, to be more specific, drinking its blood. 

Something in you gives way. Your ears ring, and your body shudders - a dark realization churning deep in your gut. Something else, too. A strange sort of heat, coursing through your veins. You have to lean against the tree just to avoid slumping to the ground. 

As soon as you’ve gained an ounce of sense again, you hide yourself completely, press your forehead against the dry, rough bark, and try to gather your thoughts. 

Astarion. A vampire. Well… it’s one thing. But he also happens to be the prince and heir to the throne, and that’s what’s making this realization so impactful. If people got word about this - if they found out what he really was - gods, there would be… riots. An amount of protest you can’t even fathom. No wonder Erelin’s been hiding him away. No wonder the wedding was full of pompous idiots - people who wouldn’t even consider putting two and two together. 

Really, when you think about it, this answers a lot of your questions: why he never eats with you, why he’s so cold to the touch all the time. Why his shirt collars are so high and stiff on his neck, and no mirrors ever seem to be in your room. Gods. You’re pathetic. All this time you’ve been thinking about him, studying him from the sidelines, so how could you have not connected it sooner? Gods.

Still… it’s insane. Absolutely insane. And there are several things which don’t add up, frankly. For one, he’s able to stand in the sunlight without burning up. You’ve seen that with your own eyes. If he’s really a vampire, then how does that work? 

But who knows - all those tales might be myths. After all, you’ve never actually met someone who could verify their truth. Maybe… maybe you’ve got it all wrong. Or, maybe, you’re simply dreaming.

You decide to chance another glance around the tree, but when the forest comes into focus, Astarion isn’t there. The only thing that remains is the sudden, bleeding silence, the boar’s corpse, and the moonlight. 

Well, shit.

As you stare at the empty space, wondering if he’d noticed you, a strange sensation trickles down your neck - one you can only just place the feeling of. 

You’re not alone. 

Without another thought, you take off running. The wind whips past your cheeks, as stinging as ice in the forest’s chill. Adrenaline floods through you, fiery and restless in your veins, dulling down the rest of the world. The outside world and the inside of you are brutal contrasts - fire and ice, melding into your skin. You’re just thinking you’ll make it out when something locks around you from behind, knocking you off balance. 

You hit the ground hard, tumbling against the dirt and dry roots, scraping your knees and drawing a vicious sting, and immediately push yourself back up. Something in your leg twinges, but it fades. Then, a pair of hands grab you, and despite the incredible show you make of punching, kicking, and squirming, Astarion has you pinned against a tree within moments, breathing heavily. 

“Enjoying the show, were you?” he asks.

You attempt to kick him again, and quickly find your leg pinned against the tree, too. “Settle down,” he instructs.

Once it’s clear that he has you completely trapped, you relent into his grasp and try to calm yourself. “You’re a vampire,” you say breathlessly.

“Guilty as charged,” he purrs. “Any other obvious statements to make, darling?”

You struggle to get away once again and he presses harder against you, his face inches from yours. “Careful,” he murmurs, leaning toward your ear. “I bite.”

You can smell the fragrance on him. Bergamot. Rosemary. You hate him. 

“Let me go,” you demand, struggling again in vain.

He tilts his head, studying your face in the darkness. “No, I don’t think I will,” he says. “I want to know what that pretty little head of yours is up to.”

You take in a deep breath, attempting to slow your thoughts into something coherent. “Does your mother know?”

He scoffs. “Of course she does. She’s the one keeping my… ‘condition’ hidden.”

“Who else?”

“Oh, her advisor. A few servants. The guards. Why?”

“But… you can walk in sunlight. How?”

“So funny you should ask,” he says. “You see, I went to bed one night, cozy as can be, and woke up the next day unable to move and in blinding pain. Turns out, my mother had some form of magical object placed in my head. But now, I can go in the sun, cross thresholds all I please, and break all sorts of other vampire rules. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You stare at him in horror. “I thought you said she would never hurt you.”

Something flickers across his face for a moment before he’s back to scowling. “Yes, well,” he says. “That depends on your definition of hurt, doesn’t it? To her, she’s doing me a favour. Making me… ‘normal’ again.”

Anger coils in your gut, hot and dark - but for the first time, it’s not directed at him. “And to you?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he says. “Not to her, and not to anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you respond.

“Of course it is. All that matters is that she gets what she wants.”

Your jaw clenches. “I… I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you run from her, then? The guards don’t follow you around like they do with me.”

“Run?” he asks incredulously. “Gods. Didn’t you hear what I was telling you earlier? She can’t stand having something of hers taken away. And I, darling, just like you, happen to be on that list.” His weight on you loosens a little. “Besides. I’ve had quite enough of running for my tastes, thank you.”

So he has run. That must have been how he knew what you were thinking about. But if he’d run, and it wasn’t from his mother… “Then who did you run from?” you ask. “And - your mother clearly isn’t a vampire. Who turned you?”

His hold on you tightens almost imperceptibly. “That,” he says, “happens to be none of your business.”

He finally releases you, analyzing you for a moment as he steps back. His exhale comes out in a sharp rush of air. “You should go back to the room,” he says. “I wouldn’t run if I were you, but… you already know that, don’t you?”

There’s a long beat as you try to decide how to answer him. 

All thoughts of running have faded to the back of your mind. You’re intrigued, horrified, and who knows what else, and with the way your mind is spinning, you barely know how to speak, much less pick yourself up and make a break for it.

“Alright,” you finally reply. You hesitate for a moment, turning to look back at him, and he doesn’t meet your eyes. “Astarion…”

“Yes?” 

“I… I’m sorry for what happened to you. Really, I am.”

He doesn’t react, even though you’re watching for it like a hawk. “The way you’re shivering, you’re going to catch something, you know,” he replies. “I’d rather not have to explain to my mother why you died of hypothermia.”

He’s right. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you’re shaking like a leaf. And… you have no idea what else to say. Without another word, you trek back to your room as if in a trance, and find yourself asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Astarion is absent the next morning when you wake, but you find him on your usual visit to the clearing, basking in the sun. His head is tilted back, his eyes are closed, and he looks, frankly, like a sleeping cat sunbathing under a patch of sunlight.

How long had he gone without feeling the sun on his skin? You can’t even imagine it. It sounds completely miserable. No promises of life-long youth or power could ever get you to sign that away - though, for some reason, you get the feeling he hadn’t had much of a choice.

“Nice place, isn’t it?” you ask, taking a seat a few feet away from him.

With a sigh, he opens his eyes and straightens up, propping his arms over his knees. “You know, my sweet, following people around is typically considered to be rude.”

“You’re in my spot, actually,” you inform him. “Ask the guards. I come here all the time.”

“Is that so?” he asks. “In that case, deepest apologies. I’ll only intrude a little longer.” 

He goes back to sunbathing, and the two of you sit in silence for a while. You take to your usual habit of dipping your feet in the stream, running your hands over the soft ferns nearby. When you glance back at Astarion, you find him watching you.

“I wondered what the hells you were doing in the gardens that night,” he muses. “Fond of nature?”

You give a light shrug. “I’m fond of anything that gets me away from that castle. I couldn’t sleep that night.” You hesitate for a moment, hands going still among the ferns. “As for here, well… it’s the same thing. I can’t stand being cooped up in there, so I come out here and sit.”

“And what a charming little spot you’ve found,” Astarion replies. “I suppose I’ll have to be faster next time around.”

You shrug. “I might consider sharing it if you behave, you know.”

He quirks a brow. “Oh? And what does this ‘behaving’ involve, exactly?”

You lean forward, gesturing loosely. “Not being a… how should I put this. Devious bastard?”

He smiles, flashing a hint of his fangs. “Darling, that happens to be my best feature.”

Have you never seen his fangs before, or had he never smiled with his teeth? You can’t quite recall, but it must be the latter. 

You huff in response, skimming your fingers along the surface of the stream. You doubt he really cares about this place, but he had looked very comfortable sunbathing. Is it something he does often? If you were in his position, you’d be in the light as much as you could.

“The first time you went in the sun again - was it strange?” you ask him. “I… can’t imagine what it must be like. Only knowing darkness.”

He tilts his head, mulling over the thought for a moment. “Well. I was rather afraid I’d be burned into a crisp at the start, but - once that’d passed, it was…” He pauses, measuring his words, and his expression softens, as if he’s reliving the feeling of it now. “It was nice. I hadn’t felt warmth on my skin in years... I could scarcely believe it. Sometimes, I still think I’m going to be burned alive.”

Something deep in your chest aches for him, locked in the dark for who knows how long. Had his mother forced him out into the sun? Had they even known if the object in his brain would actually protect him?

“Can I ask you something else?”

He gives you an amused look. “You already have, but do carry on.”

You go back to running your hands through the ferns, gently tugging the plants against your fingers. “Do you ever wish they hadn’t put that thing in your head?”

His brows rise, and that softness briefly runs over his features again. A flash of genuinity. “I…” He shakes his head. “You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you? No. Of course I don’t. Being in the dark, having to be invited in… it was miserable. I’ve never felt better. Naturally, I wish they’d asked first.”

“Then why didn’t they? It benefits you more than them, doesn’t it?”

He fixes you with a pointed look. “Asking is not something my mother is used to.”

Before you can formulate a response, Astarion sighs, getting to his feet and dusting away stray flecks of grass and dirt on his trousers. “On that note, I suppose I’ll see you later. I’m sure they’ll be driving us into town and parading us around again.”

“Wonderful,” you reply dully. “I can’t wait.”

He smiles again. “My dear, neither can I.”

It’s only a few days later that the two of you wind up in the carriage ‘home’ again, waiting out the long journey back. Once again, you have no entertainment for yourself, but your thoughts occupy you. Astarion naps and reads, mostly.

Until the carriage comes to a sudden stop, much too early. He opens his eyes and sits up, looking out the window with sudden interest.

“Is it too much to hope that we’re already there?” you ask.

“No, we can’t be there yet. Something’s happening,” he replies. He leans closer to the glass to see, and clicks his tongue. “Well, my sweet - looks like we’re taking a detour.”

“A detour?” you echo. The view outside your window shows absolutely nothing, and you’re itching to know what’s happening. You prop yourself up to your feet, hunched over in the tiny box, and just as you lean over him, the carriage suddenly jolts - sending you tumbling straight down into Astarion’s lap.

Then, the horses start running like the gods themselves are chasing them, and everything turns into a state of sheer chaos. You’re trying to push yourself off of him, he isn’t helping you at all, and every sharp curve of the road sends you straight back where you started. 

“You know, darling, if you wanted to sit in my lap, you could have just asked,” Astarion tells you. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you tell him, grimacing with effort as you try to push off of him again. “Astarion, will you help me?” 

His hands finally grip your waist, and you can feel their chill even through the fabric of your clothes. Then, as you leverage your arm on the side of the carriage to push away from him, he lifts you off - neatly placing you on the seat. Only, the carriage tilts again, and this time you find yourself smushed into his shoulder.

Astarion curses under his breath, bracing against the carriage wall. “Really, you’d think they were trying to kill us!”

You shut your eyes, letting out a huff. “How do we know they aren’t?”

“Because if they do, my mother will most certainly kill them.”

The wheels are rattling now, bouncing along what must be cobblestone. Acid churns in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance - but, if you are determined of one thing, you will not throw up on Astarion.

“What if we got kidnapped?” you ask, swallowing hard. “What if the guards are dead?”

“Trust me,” Astarion says. “I would have smelled their blood.”

It isn’t very reassuring, but it’s something. 

It seems like hours that this goes on, but it can’t be more than a few minutes before the carriage finally slows and rolls to a stop. You fling the door open and stumble out, gasping in fresh air and trying to settle your stomach.

“Apologies for the, er, rough ride. We had a change of plans,” the guard says. “Urgent orders from the queen. We’re to keep you here until further notice.”

You only see where here is when you straighten up, looking around. This place could not be more of the opposite from where the two of you had just come from - no trees, no greenery. It’s a small stone building in the middle of a deserted alleyway. You’re somewhere in the city.

“Did she happen to say why?” Astarion asks.

The guard shrugs. “Confidential information, I’m afraid.”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Of course. What else did I expect?”

With a sweep of the guard’s arm, the two of you are ushered inside. And so begins the worst part of your honeymoon. 

For the next several days, the two of you are locked inside with the guards. The building is hot and stuffy, and there’s no reprieve in any of the rooms. You’re not allowed to leave, not even momentarily, and there is nothing to do.

Most times, you find yourself pacing around, wanting to rip your hair out in frustration. Astarion seems to feel the same, although he keeps his distance from you. The loneliness only makes the suffocation worse.

At night, you toss and turn, aching for any amount of freedom. It’s bordering on unbearable. If the guards weren’t on such high alert, you’d make a break for it, but there’s no doubt you’d end up skewered rather than free. The only good thing about being here is that you end up adding two things to your little bag of stolen objects: another knife (a good sharp one, this time), and a small flask of whiskey for the unbearable moments.

The food they serve is bland and stale, but you’re at least being fed. Astarion, as you come to realize, is not so lucky. There’s not a living creature to be found in this place that he could feed on. Even the rats stay away. 

You only notice it a few days in - the restlessness in him, the way he can’t seem to stand being around you. The dark circles under his eyes, and his unusually quick temper. He’s starving. And, if the guards have noticed, they’ve done nothing.

Had Erelin even thought of how this would affect her son? Does she even care? What kind of a mother is she, leaving him like this, keeping him like a prisoner? The thought of her lounging around in silk robes, any food she wants at the tip of her fingers, is enough to have you scathing. 

Well, if she won’t do anything, you will. You just have to figure out how, considering that Astarion avoids you like the plague as of late. In the meantime, you’ll think of what to say.

For the next few days, you two dance around each other. You don’t want to overstep or press his boundaries, but he seamlessly spends as much time away from you as he possibly can. He even sleeps in a different room. When he is with you, it’s in front of the guards - which is most certainly not how you’d like the conversation to go. So you wait.

Until, one night, in one of the empty bedrooms, you finally manage to corner him. Or, at least, you enter it without him immediately leaving. It’s progress, at least. You shut the door behind you and try to ease the shaking of your hands.

You’d had a whole spiel planned out about how he shouldn’t be treated like this, how you would like to give his mother a piece of your mind, about how you’re happy to give him some of your blood, but the sight of him wipes it clear from your mind. What instead comes out is this: 

“Astarion, I… um. Are you hungry?” 

As soon as the words are out, you find yourself cringing. Gods, of course he’s hungry. That’s why you’re here!

Astarion turns to look at you, wearing an expression that’s incredibly unimpressed. “Why?” he asks sharply. “Planning to bake me a treat?”

You fold your arms over your chest, fighting the urge to sigh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Astarion, but I do happen to have blood.”

For a moment, he actually looks… stunned. His brows raise, and his expression softens up as he stares at you, as if he’s somehow imagined the words. “Hm? I - of course I know that.” He scowls at you, then, after a moment of hesitation, softens again. “It’s just that… well, people aren’t usually keen on me taking that blood.”

“You could have asked me,” you point out. “We are married.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Darling, I honestly didn’t think you’d agree,” he says, taking a step toward you. His gaze is inquisitive, intrigued, and most of all, slowly growing dark with hunger. “Need I remind you - you did run from me in the forest.”

Your cheeks burn, but you manage to spit out the words. “I ran because you caught me spying on you, Astarion, not because you’re a vampire.”

He tilts his head, suddenly looking incredibly smug. “Oh, so you admit it? That you were spying on me?”

Gods, this is not going well.

You bury your face in your hands for a moment and take in a deep breath, collecting yourself. “Alright. Yes, I was spying on you. I woke up when you were leaving one night, and I was curious. Are you satisfied?”

“I think I am,” Astarion answers, smirking as he looks at you - the cat who ate the canary. “You were saying?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I was saying that - that I have blood, and… gods, Astarion! You know what I was saying.”

“I do,” he replies, stepping closer again. Close enough to wonder if he can hear your heart racing. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he continues, his eyes lingering on your neck before moving up to your face. “Volunteering like this. But if you’re sure…?”

Despite the slight shiver that runs through you, you keep his gaze. “I’m sure.” It’s all you’ve thought about for the last few days, after all. You’d much rather go through a short little bite than watch him suffer any longer.

“Well then,” he murmurs, and his tone has turned smoother, deeper. Almost… sensual, you realize, suddenly feeling like you might melt away into nothingness. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions to the bed in the corner, and you slink over to it like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You really, really shouldn’t be affected by this. By him. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn’t work at all with you. For some reason, he’s different.

Or, just very, very good at it.

The bed is soft when you stretch out on it, trying your best to relax as the silky sheets slide against your fingers. Astarion sits next to you, leaning onto his side and propping himself over you.

Your heart starts pounding even harder.

“Don’t worry,” he says in that same sultry tone, skimming his knuckles over your jaw. “I’ll be gentle.”

As if that’s supposed to help you relax.

He leans in, and you barely have time to register the ghost of his breath against your skin before his fangs sink into your neck.

The pain is sharp, stinging, and cold - spreading through your skin like a shard of ice. It fades away after a moment, leaving nothing but the slight pull of your blood leaving your body, and - more noticeably - the feeling of Astarion over you. However intimate you’d imagined this would be, it’s a hundred times more. Every little sensation is intensified to the point that you can barely breathe.

He’s all you can think of. You’re acutely aware of the hand that lightly grips your shoulder, then slowly slides up to support the back of your head. The smell of him is everywhere now, heady and enticing as he leans further into you. And… there’s the knowledge that the taste of you is on his tongue.

Gods, you almost don’t want it to stop.

Almost.

Because beyond everything else, there’s a growing numbness that frightens you. A… coldness. Like something in you is slowly being stolen away. You’re just about to ask him to stop when a loud metallic crashing rings out just outside of the closed door and sends you flinching into his teeth. Astarion comes back to himself and gently pulls away, breathing heavily.

Slowly, he sits up. For a moment, there’s only silence, and you’re worried that - well… You’re worried about a thousand things. That something had gone wrong. That it hadn’t been enough. Or, maybe, that something is so very wrong with you that it’s seeped deep into your blood and tainted the taste. 

When you push yourself upright, a faint wave of dizziness washes over you, blurring your vision over as your head swims. The sensation passes quickly, leaving behind only a slight throbbing in your skull. You’ve felt much worse in your life. 

“Are you alright?” you ask Astarion, your gaze sweeping over him as if it might help you read his thoughts.

“Alright?” he repeats breathlessly. He swipes his thumb over the corner of his lip, letting out a light, airy laugh. “I - I’m more than alright. That was… amazing. I feel strong. Happy.” He pauses a moment, catching his breath. “Gods, I… I don’t know the last time I felt like this.”

His cheeks have the faintest bit of flush when he comes out of his euphoria, finally seeming to actually see you. You like that flush, but not as much as you like the way he’s looking at you. He regards you in a way you haven’t seen before - almost admirable, if you didn’t know better.

His head tilts, and he leans back, resting a hand on the bed to support him. “I have to admit… you’re full of surprises.”

For some reason, your cheeks turn as hot as the hells. Was this room always this stuffy? You can’t even remember. All you can recall is Astarion’s cool, soothing touch against your skin. Fingers skimming over your jaw. His teeth in your neck. 

Gods, you’re done for.

“Am I?” you manage to ask. “Good ones, I hope.”

“That,” he says teasingly, “remains to be seen.” He glances at the door, frowning, then slowly gets to his feet. “Well. I’d better go see what that noise was. We wouldn’t want our guards in danger, after all.” He hesitates for a moment, his back facing you, and when he speaks again, his tone is soft. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

And with that, he leaves the room.

It’s only about ten minutes later that you’re finally able to move.

tags: @awesomebabyyoda

[tf-lover]

Agent Lyons Saga: Mission 2 - Culture Shock

Mission 1 - Mission 3

~~~

Killian had long learned not to question the missions he was given sometimes. There were people far higher up than him that made those decisions, people with plans he couldn't begin to understand and could see the huge ripple effects caused by comparatively small things like this mission.

"You get the shot bro?" Calvin said said as he stopped flexing and took a breath.

Killian nodded. "Yeah I got it! That'll be perfect for the post later alongside the underwear promotion." He forced a fake smile as he handed the phone back to his target.

He'd been slipped in as this dudes personal assistant to get close enough. Some unassuming dark haired, glasses wearing nerd wasn't his favourite choice of bodies, but he had to match the real personal assistant who they'd conveniently made disappear for a couple of days.

The jock swiped his phone back and gave a half smile. "Sick man, that'll be killer."

Calvin started down at his phone and basically then proceeded to ignore Killian's very existence as he headed off towards his bedroom. It was part of the reason the personal assistant was chosen; from all their research into his life this was the best opportunity to get in close unsuspected to do what he needed to. He wasn't the happiest about what this mission entailed, but it wasn't exactly his decision. "Better this dude than me." He had kept reminding himself whenever the thought came up.

With Calvin headed off to do whatever, now was the perfect time to get things going. He'd been trailing around with this guy all day and never found the right moment, until now. He slipped the small, pen looking device out of his pocket and clicked the end twice in rapid succession. The tip pulled back inside and a short needle extended out in its place. It was hard to believe this little thing, which worked as an actual pen, contained such a powerful little drug that was going to change this unsuspecting dude so much. Nevertheless, this was the mission he'd been assigned and he was going to carry it out regardless of his opinions of it. He was paid more than enough to not care about his superiors plans or what unfortunate fates might befall his targets.

Agent Lyons made his way quietly into the bedroom. Calvin was nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door was slightly ajar so he headed quieter still in that direction. Sure enough, there was Calvin with a towel around his waist, admiring himself in his bathroom mirror.

"That you Danny? Better be fucking urgent." Calvin said when the bathroom door creaked open, but didn't look up.

Agent Lyons smiled and held the pen turned syringe behind his back. "Just wanted you to know that post has been scheduled, and you've got dinner plans with those investors tonight. They've just sent a message through to say they've moved the reservation up by an hour, so you'll have to get ready sooner."

Calvin swore under his breath and strode out of the bathroom. He switched his towel for a light robe on the way past Killian; the lack of modesty didn't surprise him for a guy that spent his whole life posting almost naked pictures of himself flexing online. That was his moment. Killian stepped forwards just as Calvin paused in the door and stuck the tiny needle in the jock's shoulder whilst he pretended to bump into him.

"Shit, sorry Cal. Didn't expect you to stop." Killian hastily apologised and stepped back whilst he quietly slipped the pen/syringe back in his pocket. Calvin didn't seem to have noticed. Perfect.

Calvin waved it off as he walked around through his bedroom into the massive walk in wardrobe he had curtained off on one side of the room. "Don't sweat it man, all good." He said as Killian followed after him. He'd rather leave now, but part of the mission was to ensure the transformation about to occur went smoothly, and to check the mental adjustments went off without a hitch.

"Fuck... What is up..." Calvin mumbled to himself after he'd sat down on the bench he kept in the middle of the massive clothes storage area.

What happened next was both fascinating and unpleasant all at the same time. He'd gone through many transformation experiences of his own over his time in this job, but this was the first time he'd been given a mission to change someone else.

Calvin fell back and groaned in discomfort as the changes began to roll through his body. The first sign was his skin as it lost its golden tan from hours in the bright sun and instead took on a slightly paler, warmer tone. His muscles stayed just as massive as they currently were, but lost a touch of the vascular look in favour of a slightly softer, bulkier shape in some places.

The final, and worst in Killian's opinion, changes were to Calvin's face. His short blond hair grew rapidly darker to a rich black as his eyes slimmed out a little to a distinctly more Asian style. There were a few more minor adjustments; his jaw reshaping, his cheekbones shifting, even his nose had a few little changes. All to leave him looking like a Chinese jock instead of the white one he'd been moments ago.

"Waste of a perfectly fine white dude..." Killian muttered as he watched Calvin finish becoming the East Asian jock he'd turned the stranger into.

Why Calvin's race mattered for whatever the agency he worked for was trying to enact or prevent he didn't know, but he wasn't going to question it. He was going to let himself be pissed at being the one assigned to actually do it, but he couldn't knock them since he was the best actor of all the agents around. Undercover was his specialty, so he'd do it over desk work even if it meant having to deal with certain types of people he'd rather not be around.

When Calvin started coming to, that was Killian's cue to jump back into the worried nerdy assistant act. He came over and crouched down next to the jock and shook his shoulder carefully.

"Sir? Are you alright? You blacked out for a moment there." He said in a fake worried voice.

Calvin groaned and rubbed his head. "Fuck... What happened?" He said, not noticing the thick accented voice the English came out in.

Agent Lyons stood up and "I'm not sure, but I've booked a doctor's appointment for you tomorrow if you feel you need it."

Calvin smiled. "Thank you. What'd I do without you around here huh? Forget to shower probably, which I should really go and do before I head out..."

Killian smiled and stepped back. His work was done now, he'd checked all the boxes necessary to keep his bosses happy. That and he was itching to get out of here and away from this shitty mission. He much preferred the missions where he got to be a stud and didn't have to deal with foreigners, instead of a nerd that had to make a guy into one. But it was all over now.

He stepped out of the room and spent several minutes inputting data into his mission briefing before he left. He had to pose as the nerdy assistant until it was clear Calvin was settled and he wasn't needed anymore; disappearing out of nowhere would raise concerns. After 10 minutes had passed the new Calvin came out of the shower and told him it was fine to leave as he was headed out to the balcony, which was all the excuse Agent Lyons needed to bolt out of the apartment.

Mission success.

[novaonhere]

A Future, A Home

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: You, Cal, and the crew on the Mantis are about to leave Jedah to go to Koboh after figuring out about the last intact compass. Cere asks you to stay and help with the archives. You both wake up and have a rough time leaving each other.

Word Count: 870

Warnings: Cal leaving again 😭 how dare, cute BD alarm clock

A/N: I can’t get over all the custom features Survivor offers like omggggggg the stubble???

Prompt: “You’ll stay, this time, right? You won’t go off again. You won’t disappear.”

(gif not mine)

————————————————————————

The small window in the corner of the room shines just enough light on your eyes. You slowly blink, groggy from starting to wake up. The room is cool, unlike the vast landscape outside. The dark orange-brown rock around you creates a pleasant cave sensation, protecting you from the outside world. A pair of freckles hands wrap around your waist, pulling you in. You smile softly, knowing your partner is still fast asleep, in his own little world.

You don’t mind, actually, you’re more than happy he is sleeping so soundly. You know for a fact his bed on the Mantis is rock hard and he can barley sleep anyway with so much turbulence and rocking about. With the “go-go-go” mentality, he can never bring himself to even sit down at times. The fact that he asked you to bed first was shocking, but you were extremely glad to show him to your room, where he instantly laid down on the fluffy sheets and knocked out.

The memory made you smile. While you’ve been on Jedah with Cere and Merrin, you’ve just now learned what Cal has been up to the past few months. You take your hand and stroke his arm, tracing each freckle like a game of connect the dots.

Missing him would be an understatement. In this world, your kind were being hunted constantly. Jedis needed to be eliminated, according to the Empire. You’ve spent your lives running, fighting, looking past your shoulders. To experience pure bliss and safety in each others arms was a luxury, a luxury you never wanted to let go of.

Cal shifted in his sleep, gripping onto you tighter. You chuckled, letting your eyes slowly blink back to rest.

BD-1 chirps at the door, acting as your own personal alarm clock. Sighing, you slink out of your boyfriend’s embrace, who grumbles in protest. You open the door a crack, crouching down to the adorable droid, cocking his head up at you.

“Good morning, buddy.” You smile, the droid bouncing with joy. “We’ll be out in a few, I’ll send Cal to the Mantis straight away. Meet him there?” With that, BD-1 scampers away.

“Five more minutes,” Cal complains, Force grabbing your pillow and sending it your way. On instinct, you catch the pillow, a sad smile on your face as you close the door.

You slowly make your way towards the bed, sitting down besides his curled up frame. He looks peaceful, being able to not worry and rest. You know once he wakes up fully, the worry and anxiety of the day will come crashing. His hand reaches out to yours, interlocking your fingers together as he straightens up.

“Good morning,” You smile. Cal reciprocates, bringing your hands up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You looked so peaceful,” He smile, brushing a strand of red hair away from his eyes. “I wish you could…” You trail off as he starts to shift, moving his legs off the bed. You stand, making room for him to get up. He sits next to you, placing a kiss to your temple. You faintly smile, worry still painted on your face.

“After all of this…” You start.

“We’ll have Tanalorr, (Y/N). A place where we can sleep next to one another every night.” He states, sounding leveled headed and very much like he rehearsed that statement. You nod, watching him slip on his everyday clothes, freshly washed thanks to the kind droids helping out with the Hidden Path.

“But you’ve never known that. Who says you’ll stay? You’ll stay, this time, right? You won’t go off again. You won’t disappear, right?” Your worries and doubts melt from your mouth. You were ready to settle and help out with those you can. After traveling with Cal and the Mantis for years, it became too much. Cere asked for you to aid her in helping with the Hidden Path, which was definitely more your style.

“(Y/N)…” Cal breathes out, slipping his saber to his side. He turns around, facing your concerned face. “This is it. My last fight for now. Of course we will help those and train those who want to go back out and fight. But my job will to be protect and teach.” He walks up to you, taking your hands into his freckled ones. He places a sweet, gentle kiss to your cheek. “We’re so close, and I’ll come back to you. Every time.”

“A Future.” You smile.

“A Home.” He grins.

You look up into his eyes, shinning, knowing his said his truth. You smile, pecking him on the lips. He reaches his hand behind your head, pulling you back in for a longer, much needed, kiss. You grasp onto his collar, wanting to hold yourself there for as long as possible. Unfortunately, he just had to pull away, giving you a goofy smile.

“Go kick ass, Cal Kestis.” You smile, letting go of his hands. He chuckles, making his way towards the door.

“Anything to come back to you.” He responds, smiling over his shoulder. With that, he leaves you in your room. The sun coming from that small window now blinds you.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's fic is for @garbria, who requested 'Gardening is good for the soul' 🌱

The distant sound of clipping drags Cal out of his meditation. Opening his eyes, he finds himself alone in the engine room. BD has taken off. Cal’s not surprised. They’re tucked up on Bogano before they head back to Dathomir, so he’s probably checking in with his bogling friends.

Standing, Cal stretches out, shakes off a few lingering aches, and heads out. He finds Greez alone, tidying up the terrarium.

“You’re finally looking thawed out,” Greez says without looking up.

“Thanks. I guess.” It is nice that Cal can feel his toes again. That’ll teach him to go plunging into an icy pool on a frozen planet.

“You’ve got caf in the pot and a spice cake I saved ‘specially for you,” Greez continues. “Cere and BD will be back later. They’ve gone exploring. Guess Cere wanted to find some of this Cordova guy’s stuff. She wants you to stay here, rest up before we head to Dathomir.”

Cal glances wistfully out of the hatch. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m saying it’s alright to stay put for once.”

He’d spent five years staying put. Now that he’s free, he wants to roam…

…although he doesn’t have his boots on right now, and he is still tired, like Ilum’s cold ate into all his reserves and left him with nothing. He feels better than before, and ready for what he must do next, but a nap would really –

“Gimmie a hand here once you’re fed and watered,” Greez orders. “You planted all of these, so you should learn how to take care of them.”

Cal drinks his caf. It’s about as bitter as the stuff Prauf used to make on Bracca, strong enough to wipe the heat scarring off a hull. Cere made this pot for sure. Greez usually sneaks a syrup in when he makes it. Thankfully the spice cake takes the caf’s bitter edge off. He plods over to Greez and looks at where he’s trimming a tiny green puff of grass, complete with little purple flowers. “What’s that?” Cal asks. “I don’t remember seeing something like that.”

“It’s a weed,” Greez says. “Must’ve snuck in with the other seeds.”

“You can’t get rid of it,” Cal protests. “It’s pretty!”

“It is a weed,” Greez spells out. “It could kill the other flowers.”

Cal scoffs. “Flowers are just weeds with better propaganda. Let it stay.”

Greez sighs. “Go down to the lower deck, open the supply locker, and dig out another flowerpot. Grab the extra compost too. If we’re keeping it, it’s going in another container. I’m not risking the others. Weeds could choke the roots or – ”

“I’ll get it!” Cal rushes off and collects everything he needs. He hurries back and follows Greez’s instructions about filling the spare pot with compost, making a hole in it for the plant.

“Weed,” Greez repeats.

“Flowers,” Cal shoots back.

“Fine, whatever. You can keep it back there in the engine room. Decorate your workbench with it.”

“My workbench?”

“Cal, buddy, I haven’t gone near that thing since we picked you up. It’s yours, trust me. Now, let’s get this thing replanted.”

It’s his? The workbench is his? Cal’s never had a workbench of his own before.

“…hear me?”

Cal shakes himself. “Yeah, sorry. Show me what to do.”

Between them, Greez and Cal moved the so-called ‘weed’ out of the terrarium and into the new pot. The green grass and little flowers spill over in a cascade of life. Cal holds it up, poking at it with the Force. He can feel it settling into its new home, roots digging in. He’d never spent much time on botany, but he remembers learning about the Jedi who could encourage plants to grow and thrive. Maybe he could learn how.

“Put that one aside for now and help me with these vines. Next time you find plants on Dathomir, leave them there.”

“You needed the challenge,” Cal says, grabbing a pair of clippers and following Greez’s lead by dead-heading the plant. “Everything else was easy.”

“Nothing wrong with things being easy.” Greez heads off to fill the watering can.

“If you say so.” Cal reaches out to the Force, senses the difference between each plant. He can feel the different worlds in their leaves and flowers. The Force does live in them, as it does in all living things. It’s not as complex as it is in sentient life, but the flowers pulse and glow with their own energy and power. Some are pretty proud of their blooms too, and Cal smiles with them.

A chuckle and pat on the back from Greez pulls Cal’s attention back.

“Yeah, I knew it,” Greez says, handing over the watering can.

“What did you know?” Cal asks, watering the plants he can feel need it.

“Gardening’s good for the soul,” Greez explains.

“Oh.” Cal looks at his ‘weed’. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

[lesbianrobin]

I know it was a while ago and that tumblr ate your post about it, but why do you think cal uses his real name?

hii sorry it took me a minute to reply ANYWAY.

cal spent five years hiding on bracca without really knowing how many jedi survived or if any did at all. as far as he knew, he could have been the literal only one left in the entire galaxy. he knew that revealing himself meant near certain death. but when prauf fell, he used the force, because above all cal is the kind of person who is incapable of watching something when he could be Doing something. he cares about people and he's never gonna actively choose his own wellbeing over helping others, especially the ones he loves. so he saves prauf at his own risk.

then trilla shows up asking about the jedi. as he has for the past five years, cal stays quiet, and his friend is killed because of it. of course there probably wasn't much of anything cal could have done in that moment, but all the same he learned the lesson that keeping his head down can only go so far, and that he'd rather go down fighting than sit back and watch injustice.

as soon as he meets cere and realizes that he's not alone, he joins her cause almost immediately with few reservations. he and cere explicitly Say that they're done hiding at the start of fallen order, and as survivor shows, while cere has reconsidered things a few years on, cal has stuck steadfast to that philosophy. i think that cal introduces himself with his real name and doesn't try hiding that he's a jedi because, for essentially all of his adolescence, he was alone. he couldn't be honest with anybody about who he was. he didn't know if there were any jedi left. by making himself the empire's most wanted and making no effort to hide his identity or the fact that he's a jedi, cal is doing what he can to let others know that they aren't alone, that people are still fighting, that all is not lost. they don't need to give up and accept their fate. i think cal has decided that the relative safety that comes with laying low or trying to stay incognito just isn't worth the risk that somebody in need may not know that he can help them, or the emotional pain that comes with hiding himself.

on a more personal and subconscious level, i also think that cal needs to be recognized as Cal Kestis Jedi Terrorist because he isn't sure who he is outside of that identity. this is a guy who spent his childhood years as a soldier, his adolescence as a nameless scrapper, and the remainder of his life as a terrorist on the run. all of these distinct phases drilled a need for efficiency into him, because indulgence and slacking off mean death. he clearly has interests in things like machinery and gardening, but he has no real personal goals or desires. he needs to take down the empire. that's all. in survivor, he's driven to compromising his own morals and dipping into the dark side because of bode's betrayal, and i don't think that's even like. because of the betrayal necessarily. so much as the fact that cal has built his whole life around rebellion against the empire, and seeing a fellow jedi who chose to cooperate with the empire breaks something in him. he has this rigid good vs evil dichotomy set up in his head, and everything with dagan and bode and cere in survivor is making him question the path he's chosen in his own life. i think cal was convinced that he's just been Doing What He Must As A Jedi and seeing people take these other paths makes him angry because he feels like. everybody is abandoning him. why is he fighting in the name of the jedi if the jedi keep on letting him down? if the jedi are imperfect? if everyone who hunts him, hurts him, and kills the ones he love used to call themselves jedi, too?

idk sorry i'm going so off topic i just think that cal being a kid during order 66 is So interesting and it places him in such a fascinating relationship with Being A Jedi and like his perspective on the world. i could go on and on about him forever i think dnckdchdn sorry. also this is all my own opinion yknow obviously everyone's interpretations differ <3

TL;DR i think cal made the choice that he would stop hiding at age like seventeen or whatever and never looked back because he's got a fucked up little head from years of psychological trauma and he regrets not stepping up before trilla killed prauf.

[starrbee]

I have some questions

1. How did your elemental powers come into existence/was made?

2. Does Lloyd have any of your oc's elemental powers?

The next ones ate for all of your Oc's if you are willing

3. 🖊

4. 💖

5. ❗

6. 🗡

7. 🌪

8. 🖤

My personal HC is that the FSM was gifted from the Source Dragons, then gifted to the Elemental Masters

When he had his golden powers yes! but my OCs powers aren't directly connected to him :)

(emoji Q's found here )

🖊- What season would they be introduced into the story? If not directly introduced in a season, when in the timeline are they introduced?

Cal- Season 12, their being forced to work with the mechanic! they are there so Zane wouldnt die quickly when plugged into the portal.

Silver- They have their own fanseason, probably set out after S2 of dragons rising

Oberon- S4! They take part in the Tournament!

Cirris- S1 of Dragons Rising! They get an episode like Euphrasia (Also Vania is there. Give me back my girl DR writers-)

💖- Do they have a crush or significant other?

Silver/Cirris- Nope!

Cal - They meet a Starlike being from Mysterium during DR which their in a QPR with!

Oberon- They have a bit of a thing with Griffin Turner, They both know of each others feelings, and act like a couple, but have never actually said anything. Skylar is so done with them.

❗-Could they beat any of the ninja in a fight?

Silver/Cirris- No, their both still in training.

Cal - With EP, probably all but maybe Zane because... Humans can only take so much heat. But without, they wouldn't be able to beat anyone, but would put up a good fight.

Oberon- In a fight of pure strength and skill, They could probably beat like Lloyd, Jay or Kai? With EP, probably could beat the same people, but Cole and Zane? their both either strong or highly intelligent, so it would be harder?. They would probably lose against Nya's pure drive to win.

🗡-How good are they in a fight? Do they have a preferred weapon?

Silver- Dual wielding swords/knives. Can hold their own with or without magic.

Cirris- Wields a Glaive or spear. Has slight military training, so is good in a fight if they have time to plan.

Cal- Gun :) But yea they can hold their own and would probably win in a fight.

Oberon-Battleaxe! They can hold their own in a fight, but relies on their EP a bit too much.

🌪-Do they know spinjitzu?

Silver- No, and doesn't plan on it.

Cirris- Is learning, but isn't great at it

Cal- Nah, they didn't bother learning

Oberon- Yes, but by DR its a bit rusty

🖤-What’s their opinion on the ninja?

Silver- During their fanseason Arin isn't feeling great about his training, so Silver feels that they're a bit untrustworthy, but understands his awe towards them.

Cirris- Likes them! They grew up in ninjago, so thinks their really cool and respects them greatly.

Cal- Respects them and sees them as good friends, but is generally closer to PIXAL, Zane and Nya

Oberon- They're good friends, and from the small time they spent helping out at the monastery, sees them almist like younger siblings!

[seraphseye]

glass sword , chapters one thru seventeen thoughts n highlights. ( spoilers under cut )

starting off strong ok ! ! the trust issues this has given them both is so insane bc maven really said if i can't have her i will make sure she doesn't trust another soul ever again but especially u

it is all hers now , just like he always was . . ouch. u didn't have to say all that but u did. no matter how many times i read this i will always be devasted by mare realizing the boy she loved was never real and never hers

she's in her believing she is unworthy of literally anything era and it makes me so sad like

i rly do feel like sometimes ppl be forgetting just how Bad this was on cal , too , and on such a deeper level than Just maven betraying him. plus mare betraying him too. it's that ofc paired with elara forcing him to kill his father w his own hands , and made him still be present in his mind while he did so. like the way he later has to remind himself that she Forced Him ? ? that he had no control over it ? ? ? plus learning that she was responsible for his mother’s death all along bc he had never wanted to believe it. everyone he has ever known , cared for , grew up w , etc. turns on him all bc maven plays this forgotten son act. everything he has ever been trained and taught is ripped away from him , his future that he has spent his entire life preparing for just gone like that. his world is in ruins in like thirty different ways and the only thing keeping him alive is his desire for vengeance

" letting her tuck me in like she never has before " bitch i'll cry about it tf ? ? ?

the trust issues going CRAZY ! ! not that i blame her but damn girl

cal is so funny for dragging her taste in men i cannot lie. but also me forgetting so much of what happened in this series was extra bad bc the way i forgot kilorn's betrayal was like fake ? shit had me seething i was abt to be a menace in the worst way possible

touches pool.

mare barrow u will always mean the world to me ( this made me so mfin sad god bless )

" he is real again " girl no he isn't ! ! but her just wanting back the maven she thought she knew . . cal just wanting his brother back from before elara ruined him. i will literally cry

" and i said i would save you " , " he will save me , in his own twisted way " . stares at wall

i am so sorry for not appreciating marecal as much when i first read these books but damn y'all got me in a chokehold tn

HIS MOTHER HOLDS HIS LEASH BUT NOT HIS HEART ! ! i am absolutely not prepared for king's cage w this shit gyat damn i am so emotionally devastated

these lines absolutely eat every time but perhaps this is also a fitting place for me to leave off for the night

[calumxkisses]

Sweet Creature | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: i think implied smut?

summary: request - Heeyyy, can you do one, where they have a big fight and they are in quarentine, and they stop talking to each other, and the sleep in different rooms, with cal... kiss from brazil 🇧🇷

a/n: this is one of my favorite song! let me know what you think about it! i hope you enjoyed it ;)

you should read this imagine while listening to: sweet creature

➳

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a scream comes out of your lungs. Your face has turned red, your head hurts and you feel your heart pounding. Your throat is now dry and you feel your nails sticking into the palm of your hand.

What Calum notices, however, are the tears running down your face and the pain behind your eyes. What hurts him the most, though, is knowing he is the cause of your pain. He would like to hug you, tell you that he is sorry, that he loves you and that he doesn't even remember why you are fighting, but his pride prevents him from being the person he would like to be. The person you are in love with.

“All you do is whine.” he screams out, rolling his eyes and letting out a snort.

This discussion was the straw that broke the camel's back, filled by being forced to stay at home, by a canceled tour and canceled parties but, above all, by the concern of a world that is in chaos, with a fatal virus that spreads like wildfire.

He is worried, he feels the burden of not having to disappoint anyone, of being a good person who says the right things, of being a child who cares about their parents who live on the other side of the world and cannot go to visit, reassure, and that he can only see through a mobile phone screen.

“I have a right to be angry, you know that, right?” Your voice calms down a bit, but anger still runs through your veins. You walk up and down the room, with one hand on your forehead and being careful not to step on the broken glass of the fallen vase.

Calum has spent the last few weeks in the studio, out in the garden practicing, or locked in a room, anywhere but with you. He preferred to wake up early and go to sleep late, feel cold instead of holding you and skipping meals to avoid being with you.

For the first time in days, you get a good look at him: his hair has grown, as has the beard surrounding his face, he has terrible dark circles and the vein on his neck comes out prosperous, underlining how much he is screaming.

You felt abandoned, alone, left on the sidelines, and your feelings were amplified by the impossibility of going to someone, just to escape from that situation, to be held by someone else or just to talk over a coffee with a friend.

The only thing you could have done, was to ask him why, what you had done to deserve such treatment, and to spend some time together. And that’s where the scream started.

Tears roll down your face and you run your hand under your eyes to wipe them away. If you didn't notice them before, now the pinch caused by their wake has become hard to ignore.

“Are you going to cry now? God, you’re making me regret being with you. I really wish you weren’t born.”

Calum feels the pain it caused you before even reading the expression on your face. He puts his hand in front of his mouth in hopes of being able to block the words, but they have already left his lips and have come straight into your ears, getting stuck under your skin and breaking even the last pieces of the broken heart you have left.

His words hit you like a bolt from the blue. Arguing often leads to saying unthinkable words and among all the things you've been yelling at each other in the last hour, some bad words have certainly escaped, but nothing so terrible.

You feel a pain in your chest never felt before, deep and intense, and even the tears stop flowing. You inhale deeply, seeking relief in a breath of air and waiting for your body to react in any way, all is better than feeling full of pain. The room starts spinning, your head feels full and empty at the same time, and your legs struggle to bear the weight of your body.

Calum carefully scans your face, looking for any reaction from you to understand how much your mind has absorbed his words. His stress, his worries have led him to be a different person and the fear that you may leave him has terrified him, but his insecurities have done the opposite of what one expects, making he walk away from you and treating you coldly, and now he fears that he is really on the verge of being alone, with his broken heart in his hands, ready to mend every wound himself.

You didn’t deserve this.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.” You whisper, lifting your face and looking him straight in the eye. The words he used, the coldness of his tones and the loneliness in which he left you have piled on top of each other on your chest, making it difficult for you to even breathe. You need time, space, whatever helps you figure out what to do.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a shaky voice. His eyes are glossy, his hands are shaking and his face has lost color. His heart carries so much goodness and you know it wasn't his intention to hurt you, but his words were like stab wounds and you need to take care of them now.

You don't want to leave, and not because you can't take a plane, but because Calum means too much to you and leaving is not an option to consider. If it ever ends up between you, after all you've been through, it should be in a more dignified way and not because of a stupid fight and insincere words.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room for a while and then we’ll see what to do.” Is all you can say and all you can do.

“So you’re not leaving?”

“I don’t think so, at least not now.”

Silence.

And that silence means everything and nothing.

You pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and, after casting one last look at the boy in front of you, you take refuge in a room that doesn't belong to you. The air in the guest room is different, you can't breathe the love that characterizes every corner of yours and Calum's and even the sheets seem different, cold, painful. You put a hand through your hair and lean on the door, slowly sliding towards the floor and letting go of your frustration.

Calum closes his eyes and puts his hands to his face as his body slumps onto the sofa behind him. The house reigns in silence, the only audible sound is your sobs in another room and, before he knows it, he starts crying too. He doesn't care about wiping his face or stopping the moans that come out of his mouth, he deserves to feel awful and humiliate himself like that, the guilt is devouring him and he just thinks about how he wishes he could disappear, to make your life easier.

When you first met, he knew you were the right person from the first look you gave him. Behind your eyes, deep in the irises, there was a whole world, made of kindness, love and joy. You had your demons, but the strength you emanated made it clear that you were able to overcome them, even without knowing it. A world that he wanted to discover, with delicacy and patience, and in which he wanted to live.

But what he feared most was bringing darkness into the light you emanated, turning your smiles into tears and your heart into a mass of sharp pieces.

He had told you, while you were eating some heated pizza on a rainy morning, your legs were on his and your face on his shoulder. And you had caressed his face, wiping away the dirt on his lip with your thumb, assuring him that you would have love him anyway and that you would have happily shared some of your light, and then you had kissed him, and that kiss tasted like tomato sauce and love, a combination you still love with all your heart.

And now, the only thing he can do, besides pitying himself, is wondering if you're regretting sharing your joy with him, if you'd rather stay full of light instead of welcoming his demons. And he fears your answer is yes.

Duke rubs his face on his leg, asking for scratches but also showing his affection. He doesn't know what happened and Calum wonders if the dog, who loves you more than any other person has crossed the threshold of your home, would look at him differently knowing that he broke the heart of the person he loves most.

If so, as his mind is trying to convince him, he couldn't handle it. He would not be able to live knowing that he has let down another being he cares about. Because he cares about you, but it is difficult for him to show it, the fear of rejection is stronger than he would like.

So, he lowers himself a little and gently strokes the dog, hoping to be able to receive that affection he is so afraid of losing.

As Calum's world shatters before his eyes, you take care to gently reassemble what's left of yours. You're still on the floor, getting up takes too much energy and a motivation that you can't find.

How you feel about the guy down the hall cannot be described in words, there is no way to describe what his gaze makes you feel, the way his words reassure you or how his love warms your heart up. It just works like this. Your love does not need big gestures or difficult words and never like now, it is better to absorb the silence and be lulled by the air.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain silent, let the cold of his words slip on you and learn to live in the loneliness in which he left you, but you couldn't go on like this. Not fighting would have meant not caring about him or your relationship and that's exactly the opposite of how things are. He had to know how you felt and what you were missing.

The sweet sound of his voice or the warmth of his skin are essential for you, not only on a love level, but in the daily routine of your life. A routine that had changed, which was no longer full of joy and smiles, light and perfume, but of demons that wandered undeterred around the walls of your home, ready to bring the cold into your souls.

And that routine, once full of love, was now non-existent. No more words had been said between you, no meal had been eaten together and your bed had forgotten what love meant. The stars, ever present witnesses of the passion that surrounded your bodies, were now always absent, covered by gray clouds and black skies. Even the moon, which guards all lovers, shone with a paler and more blurred light.

The moon gave way to the sun, the grass grew and the days alternated on the calendar. And yet, it seemed to you that you were still still that afternoon. Sure, breathing had become less difficult and the tears had stopped flowing on your face, but even in the middle of spring the coldness brought chills on your body.

You have no idea what he is doing, occasionally you see the shadow of his shoes behind the door of the guest room or you hear broken melodies coming from the studio, but his face becomes more and more unknown.

You spend your days studying, working, playing with Duke or reading your favorite books. You wake up late and go to sleep early, hoping to feel less lonely.

The truth, however, is that you miss him immensely, like water in the desert or milk after eating spicy food. You need to be able to get lost in his eyes or just hold his hand. The headache meds don't work like his kisses on your forehead, and no number of blankets could bring you the same warmth that a hug from him gives off.

You feel so pathetic to need him by your side, but after so many years of loneliness, he was able to convince you that you were worthy of being loved just like everyone else and, specifically, that he would love you more than anyone else. And he had done it, always and anyway, for the sake of the joyful news and the bad of your depression, he had always been there, ready to show you that you were worth it.

He wants to do it, he wants to continue to hold you and to tell you how beautiful you are, how honored he feels to be the keeper of your heart and the champion of your love, but he believes that no apology would bring serenity to your sky.

What is he supposed to do? No words would express the humiliation he feels whenever he thinks back to your fight and his behavior, no hug or kiss would bring love into your broken heart.

He spent his nights awake, the insomnia caused by his thoughts was making it impossible for him to live. The table seemed too big and the bed too uncomfortable, the bass was always out of tune even as he spent hours adjusting its strings and no melody seemed catchy enough to lift your mood in the other room. He knew that when you were sick, listening to him play brought some peace to your troubled world, but now no sound would chase the bad weather away.

None of his gestures would be enough to show how bad he feels. Nothing can express the pain he feels and the regret of his words.

However, 3 years of relationship is enough for him to know what makes you smile. There is one song in particular, in the immense repertoire that is your music library, that you love to hum and listen to when the silence is too loud.

So, wearing his best shirt and trying to fix the clump of his hair, he sits down at the piano in the living room and, after taking a deep breath, he tries to voice his thoughts.

Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

As you put down your favorite book after reading it again, Calum's sweet, broken voice spreads throughout the house, bringing a sense of comfort to your heart. You can hear the pain behind his voice, and even though you know your wounds will take some time to heal, the words he screamed at you lose their value. One part of you is still angry but the other, curious and in love, wastes no time getting you out of bed and walking towards the room.

The piano overlooks the garden, the sun shines above and illuminates all the plants. Duke is chasing a butterfly, its tail wags quickly and some leaves are stuck in its fur. Calum has his back to you, his back leaning slightly forward as he looks outward, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

You lean on the door jamb that separates the two rooms and close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the music and breathing regularly, giving your body respite from all the accumulated stress.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

Calum watches the garden as the lyrics of the song automatically come out of his mouth. He was never good at playing the piano but, during the nights spent away from you over the years, he promised himself to learn all your favorite songs so he could sing them to you whenever you needed them.

And while Duke rolls around in the grass, he can't help but think about the thousand picnics you had on that same lawn, the laughter you shared and all those moments when he always fell in love a little more looking at you.

And even if the song doesn't belong to him, he can still feel every single word and a small tear falls down his face.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You take a few steps forward and, after taking a deep sigh, sit next to him. Calum winces at the contact but his face turns into a big smile after seeing you. He doesn't know if you're still mad at him or if his singing worked, but being able to see you again after so many days spent in agony brings a sense of peace to his messed up world. He knows that this song is not enough, that he will have to prove a lot more to you - even if you will probably forbid it - but knowing that he has you there, frees him from a weight that he carried inside.

And as usual, there is no need for words, he just needs to feel your head resting on his shoulder to know that you have come back to him. And when your hands touch his, he feels at home again.

Almost automatically, your hands begin to move to the rhythm of the music and your fingers touch the keys of the piano, accompanying Calum in the melody, just as he taught you.

Duke is rolling in the grass, the butterfly now forgotten, and his happy face is illuminated by the sun. It seems that the sky has returned to shine too, not just your eyes, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly again.

I know when we started

Just two hearts in one home

It gets harder when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You'll bring me home

There was no need to talk to him, or to explain, risking losing you was necessary for him to understand that something was wrong, that he had to find the right path, that you can risk skidding, the important thing is getting back on track.

“I am grateful to your mother for bringing you into the world, but even more grateful to you for being a part of my life. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. I love you and I always will.” He whispers, placing his hands on his thighs, as soon as he finishes singing the last words. His words are sincere, you can perceive the displeasure behind his tone and you know he believes what he says.

He kisses you on the forehead and, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, he rests his face on your head, closing his eyes and absorbing the silence, a cautious silence, full of peace and fresh air.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, closing your eyes in turn and letting yourself be lulled by the peace and serenity found. You know that everything will be fine, that even if you’ll have other fights, you will always find a way to get back to each other.

-

[constilationn]

Changing The Sheets || Part 2 🥀

A/N: Hey guys, I wrote a part two of this because I really like the direction it was going in. Anyway, I’m really really proud of this one and I loved writing it. Please do give any and all feedback, I love it. Much love guys. 

Rating: T?

Warning: naughty words, that's about it. 

Summary: You think you’re doing okay, Ashton shows up and you realise you might not be. But time can mend and you know that. 

Part 1

At the end of three weeks, crisis mode ends for everyone but you. Calum stops coming by every day, understandable because he has his own life to live but it hurts all the same. Luke and Michael still come around occasionally but everything goes back to normal. You’ve accepted Ashton isn’t coming back anytime soon, you’ve accepted that he’s probably with her now and it’s time to move on but it still hurts. It hurts so much that your heart seemingly twists with every breath you take and a pain lingers in your gut that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try. Still, you think it might be time to fix the bedroom, throw out all of Ashton’s old stuff and start fresh. You think you can do that, think after weeks of shutting the world out, you can drag yourself down to the department store and buy replacements for all the stuff you broke. You can drag yourself out of bed, put your goddamn clothes on and start putting yourself back together like you promised you would.

And so you do.

Two days after changing the sheets for the first time, you kick the comforter back off and let it land on the floor. You drag yourself up, throw the pillows from the bed and strip the sheet from the mattress. It’s different now, this isn’t anger anymore or at least you don’t think it is, you think its acceptance, think it’s the determination to pick up the pieces of yourself and slot them back into place no matter what you have to do. Because you can’t stay in this apartment with all the things you shared and the shards of the promises he made to you. You can’t stay in this house with fragments of his cologne and toothbrush and his record collection that stares mockingly at you every time you sit on the couch and try to forget everything he destroyed when he left you. You think ... you think you need to make this place your own, fill it with your own love and your own light and everything you know you can be with him. Because you’ll be okay, you know you’ll be okay but it’ll take time, and you know that too.

The first thing you do when you finally force yourself away from the bedroom and away from the pile of sheets you’ve pulled from the cupboard, is grab a trash bag from the cupboard under the sink and head back into the bathroom. You don’t spare the broken glass another look as you sweep it into the bag, try not to touch the bristles of the toothbrush as you throw the fragments of the life you had before into the bag. In fact, you clear out every single thing in that room that belongs to him and make a note in your mind to buy your favourite bath salts and bath bombs and replace everything he said he loved with what you like because this is your home now, and you intend to make it a place filled with love instead of betrayal and regret.

The trash bag is full by the time you reach the closet in your bedroom, all traces of Ashton gone from the bathroom and the kitchen. You left the living room, can’t bring yourself to touch his record collection that he spent weeks organizing or the stack of books with his scribbled post it notes on top. You loved reading almost as much as he did. You’ve always been a sucker for getting lost in a story, mostly Jane Austen, and her talent for writing a romance you could only dream about. You’ve fantasied about meeting your Prince Charming on more than one occasion. You thought you’d found that when you’d met Ashton. Turns out you were wrong.

It takes you a minute. It takes you a minute because everything hits you, suddenly and all at once, and you have to stop yourself from falling back into the chaos you’re so determined to leave behind. You take a breath, shaking, then another and turn back into the bedroom without giving that stupid coffee table another glance. You might have to buy another one, fuck, you might have to refurnish your entire apartment until you can learn to love and breath in here again.

Crescent moons appear on your palms as you dig you nails into your skin in an attempt to stop your hands shaking. It feels stupid, like you should be able to shake and cry and scream all you want in your own apartment but you feel Ashton lingering in everything you do. You have to be strong, you have to be able to throw these things out without a second glance because you’ll destroy yourself if you keep them here for much longer. You’re torn, torn between keeping his things because you know you still love him, or getting rid of them because you know you have to move on. But there’s something in the pit of your stomach, something that feels suspiciously like hope, that he’ll realize his mistake and come back.

You tear his clothes off the hangars and stuff them into the trash bag without another thought.

You leave the stripped bed, bare pillows and duvet on the floor and drag the trash bag back through the apartment. You spare a glance to the clock that hangs in your kitchen and you’re surprised to see it’s almost eleven at night. It means you’ve spent the better part of three hours throwing every trace of Ashton out of your apartment without shedding a tear. It’s an accomplishment, of sorts, something to be proud of and you know in that moment, you’ll be able to make this apartment a beautiful home for yourself.

You grab the bag, pull the door just as someone pushes from the other side and you stumble, fall back and drop the bag as Calum stands on the other side of the door with his hand still on the door handle and a stunned expression on his face.

“Calum?” You scramble to shove Ashton’s stuff back into the trash bag as Calum watches with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” It’s the first time he’s been back in a few days and you weren’t expecting one of Ashton's best friends to open the door just as you were throwing out everything he owned. Calum’s voice is thick with amusement as he speaks. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m cleansing.” You fumble for the ties at the top of the trash bag and pull them tightly. “Getting my shit together.”

“Getting rid of shit, you mean.”

“No,” you sigh, run a hand through your hair and realizing you haven’t brushed it in the same breath you realise you probably smell awful. “I’m creating something.”

“You don’t have to get rid of his stuff right away, you know. Just like you don’t have to stop loving him right away.” Calum takes the bag from you, fingers gently brushing yours, and you know by your lack of resistance that he’s right. “Let me take this.” He pauses, glances at your face for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none and instead is met with a soft smile, he continues. “You’ll regret it if you dump this right now. Trust me.”

“I do,” you reply, relinquishing the bag. “I do trust you.” You pause, watching Calum as he smiles. A deep breath leaves your lips without you meaning it to and Calum raises an eyebrow like he knows there’s something you want to ask him. He waits, he’s patient because he knows how hard this is for you. “How is he?” You finally ask, voice no more than a breath.

“Luke says he’s heartbroken.”

“Luke? You haven’t seen him?”

Calum shakes his head. “I’m here for you, not him. He’s my best friend but I can’t support what he did.”

It takes a lot of strength for you not to cry then, and you blink back tears, sniffle and disguise it with a laugh as Calum wraps you in his arms. You almost deflate against him, like you can finally breath, like you’ve got the validation that Ashton is in the wrong, not you. “Thank you.” You whisper, fighting to keep your voice even. “Thank you.”

Calum pulls away after a minute, “Give me this shit,” he laughs, waiting as you grab your purse and jacket and lock the door. “You want me to drive you?”

“You don’t even know where I’m going.” You chuckle, following him down the stairs and outside to his car as you struggle to keep your gaze away from the trash bag he holds in his hand. You whole life is in there, well, your old life. You dig for your keys, push the thought away and head to your car. “I love you Cal, but we’re going different ways and you’re not the best driver.”

“I’m a great driver!” He insists as you duck into your car and give him a wave. He flips you off with a grin and you shake your head as you pull out of the lot ahead of Calum and take the turn to the department store.

You’re ready, you know you’re ready and you’ve already got a list in your head of what you can buy now that Ashton’s gone. You’ll fill the bathroom shelves with wicker baskets full of bath salts. You’ll buy new sheets, ones alive with colour and you’ll replace the cushion covers with the ones you wanted to get all along. You’ll buy plants and put them in every nook and cranny of your apartment and you’ll stock the fridge with your favourite food and forget how it used to be crammed with beer. It’s the next step for you, the next chapter.

But the thing is, you didn’t want to turn the page at all.

You pull into a space outside the store, grab a basket and head inside in high spirits because this is the first time you’ve felt confident with a decision since Ashton left. You dressed in something other than pajamas, you threw on some makeup and you hauled your ass out of the apartment because you’re so determined to make a life for yourself.

And you’re so confident in this decision, so unbelievably proud of yourself as you turn down the aisle to pick out your plants, that you think you might be having some sort of mental break when you see Ashton standing at the other end of aisle with a plant in hand.

And you freeze, your blood turns cold and you fucking freeze on the floor of that department store because every emotion that you’ve felt in the last few weeks hit you like a slap to the face and you fail to pick your jaw up off the floor, fail to turn around and leave despite the amount of fear and hate and adrenaline that’s racing through your veins. So, when he turns and meets your eyes and the plant he’s holding falls to the floor and the pot shatters, your heart fucking explodes.

And yet, you still can’t fucking move.

Your name on his lips for the first time in weeks makes your stomach turn and bile rise in your throat. Your heart races, thunders in your chest and you can hear blood pounding in your head as you try to figure out what to do before he reaches you. But you can’t leave now because he’s seen you and as much as you want to show him that he means nothing to you, you can’t bring yourself to destroy the last little piece of your relationship that has survive. So you take a breath, steady yourself because you refuse to be afraid of this anymore and turn to Ashton as he stops in front of you.

“Hi.” You wait for him to speak first and when he does, you’re surprised to find there’s anger in the pit of your stomach instead of the grief you expected to feel.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Hi.”

Ashton hesitates, “How are you?”

“How do you think?”

“I— “

“You what?” You’re aware you don’t give him the chance to finish but the rage that seems to have consumed you in the time that he’s walked from one end of the aisle to the other is the thing that guides you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You scoff, “I bet you are,” you glance down to the basket in his hands. “So what, you’re already shopping for your new place? For your new girl?”

You’re not sure Ashton’s eyes can widen anymore. He’s always known you were feisty, knew exactly what he was getting into but he’s never seen you like this, driven by blinding anger. “No. No, I... I’m staying with Luke. Thought I could get him something to say thank you.”

“Not staying at your new girls house then?” You haven’t unfolded your arms, eyes glaring at Ashton as he focuses on anything other than your face.

Ashton’s eyes fall to your shoes. “I haven’t seen her since that night.”

You laugh, short and bitter. “Don’t be shy, Ash. Since the night you fucked her.”

Ashton shakes his head, “Please, please let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” And despite yourself, you take a step closer to him. “You don’t love me anymore, remember.”

Ashton seems close to tears, frustration and exasperation driving him towards the edge. “Just give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’re silent for a moment watching Ashton as he watches you before you let go of your cart, raise an eyebrow and turn to leave the store. You’re not sure if Ashton picked up that you want him to follow but then you head into the parking lot and hear his footsteps behind you as he follows you to your car.

“Get in.” Is the only thing you say as you open the door to your car and watch Ashton slide into the passenger seat. He doesn’t have to say yes. All he does is wait.

🥀

A silver Honda passes you as you and Ashton sit side by side on the hood of the car. You’ve been here for seven minutes and twelve seconds, you know because you’ve been watching the seconds pass you by on the clock on the dashboard.

“We haven’t talked in a while.” You finally say, remembering every single might where you pushed the call button on Ashton’s contact on your phone.

“No,” Ashton replies, quiet as ever, “No we haven’t talked at all.”

The freeway’s almost empty but some traffic zooms by the two of you as you stare past Ashton and into the inky blue of the sky. It’s fourteen minutes past one, all you know is that you drove the freeway for two hours and then pulled over to the an emergency bay on the side of the road. But you don’t know much else because your head is spinning and Ashton is sitting the closet to you that he has in weeks.

You can’t avoid this forever, you suppose, which is a shame because you've done a good job trying.

So you sigh, slide off the hood of the car as you wipe your hands on your jeans. Ashton looks like he wants to follow but the glare you cast his way tells him to stay put. “This is how this is going to work. You’re going to answer every fucking question I ask you and I might not shove you in front of an oncoming vehicle.”

Ashton nods, barely breaths as he says “yes.” Probably because he doesn’t want to be thrown in front of a car, you suppose. But still, it’s a start.

“Who bought you your shit?” It’s no mystery to you that some of Ashton’s stuff disappeared from your apartment before you started to break everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to care back then. You do now, though.

“Luke and Michael.”

“You saw them a lot?”

“A bit, yeah.”  

You nod, run your tongue over your teeth. “Calum?” Because despite what he said to you, your trust has been shattered and you want to see if Ashton will lie to you even now.

“He hasn’t returned my calls,” Ashton says quietly. “I don’t know.”

Okay, you think, two questions in and you don’t want to snap yourself in half. You take a few steps away from the car, then walk back and stare Ashton straight in the face as another car growls past.

“How’ve you been? Really? Don’t sugar coat it.”

Ashton gives a sad sort of smile as he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. “Fucking...terrible. Maybe worse. Haven’t been getting out of bed a lot.”

“Good.” You snap, can’t stop yourself because he should hurt just as much as you did. He shouldn’t be able to get out of fucking bed either. You breathe in the crisp night air and try to calm yourself.

“How’ve you been?” You stop pacing across the gravel of the freeway and look up at him.

“You already asked me that. I already answered.” God, your voice is vicious, prowls across the cool night air and bites at him. But you feel satisfied, knowing you can give Ashton little cuts like this.

Ashton bites his lip and looks down. He looks out of breath, like he’s run miles and you can’t help but think god, because he deserves every bit of pain you felt. “I know. But it’s all I think about.”

Cry me a fucking river. You want to scream. You couldn’t handle one fucking day of this.

Fuck, you love him so much.

And even though he hasn’t talked over you once you can’t help but snap, “Interrupt me one more time and you can fucking walk home.” And then before you can stop yourself, before you can falter, “Now, why’d you do it?”

Ashton stops moving then, stops fiddling, stops breathing, so quickly that you’re almost worried. But then Ashton opens his mouth and you realise you’re not ready for this answer so you cover your fear with malice. “Don’t hesitate” you say, “Don’t fucking um and ah. And don’t bullshit me, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Okay.”

“So why’d you fucking do it, you selfish prick.” You say and when your voice finally cracks, Ashton looks away.

Good, you think, fucking let him hurt. Let him feel half of what I have.

“Baby— “

“Why did you fucking do it?” You yell, veering straight past the nickname because you can’t handle that right now, not on top of everything else. You voice makes Ashton’s head snap up. “Don’t fucking look away from me. Just tell me!” And then softer, because your voice has cracked and you can’t do this anymore, “Just say it. Please.”

Ashton nods, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Okay...okay, but you can’t...it’s not logic. It’s not.”

“Just say it.” Four cars go past before Ashton speaks again and you fight to keep yourself steady on your feet.

“I got scared,” he says finally and you’ve never heard Ashton’s voice so small. “I got scared and you didn’t. I got scared and I panicked and I drank too much and you were a million miles away and I fucked up.”

“Not enough,” you shake your head. “That’s not enough. You don’t get to fuck someone and tell me you don’t love me and get away with it in a single sentence. That’s not fucking good enough.”

Ashton slides from the hood of the car then and you’re so scared he’s going to end this conversation and get back in the car and leave you again. So, you say the first thing you can think of. “You wanted it too, though, didn’t you? You wanted me?” And, fuck, you can barely stomach how stupid your question sounds but you need to know. You need to know.

“Of course I wanted you.” Ashton says, polar opposite to the venom that coats your voice. “Of course I did.”

“Then what the fuck?” You ask angrily because you don’t understand, you don’t. “What the fuck was all of it for. I don’t understand.”

“We weren’t supposed to make it.” Ashton whispers and the distance you’ve put between the two of you, you quickly close because you can’t miss this. “We were twenty-one and twenty fucking three something and we weren’t supposed to make it. It wasn’t...it wasn’t supposed to go anywhere because I was leaving for tour and you wanted that degree and wanted to leave this stupid goddamn city. And we didn’t have a chance in hell of making it.”

Your inches away from him now.

“And then by some fucking miracle, we did make it.” Ashton says, “and then you’re talking about a future with a house and a family and fucking colour schemes and shit and it scared me. I was fucking scared and so out of my depth and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You croak out, “Why didn’t...you could’ve told me.”

Ashton snorts and makes the two of you seem impossibly closer. “Do you know what kind of person you are to let down?” He asks, “I couldn’t do that to you and so I got scared and I tried to avoid it and I fucked up.”

“So you went and stuck your dick in someone else?” You spit, “like that wasn’t going to raise anymore fucking issues, like that wasn’t going to cause a bit of a problem, like— “

“You asked me why.” Ashton says and his voice raises for the first time. “You asked me why. I’m not saying it makes sense but...that’s it.”

You thought knowing would make you feel better. You really did, but now you know just how mistaken you’ve been. “I should’ve known,” you say, face white, “I should’ve known, I was right there and I just...I did nothing.”

You could deal with not knowing, you realise, you could deal with that but now there’s a pressure on your chest saying it’s on you, saying it’s your fault. You think you might throw up and brace yourself against the hood of the car.

“It’s not your fault,” Ashton says from behind you and you’ve forgotten how much you miss his comfort, his safety. “It’ll never be your fault. You have to know that.”

“But it is.” You say, snapping back around to face Ashton. “Because you couldn’t tell me. You couldn’t tell me and you couldn’t touch me a and so you had to find someone else.” And it’s so overwhelming, so fucking overwhelming and it hits you all at once and you don’t realise Ashton holding you until your legs are about to give out.

You want to push him away, want to throw yourself off, want to barrel into traffic for all you care but you’re not strong enough. Because you’re so fucking tired and sad and so, so in love with the boy in front of you that it feels like if you let go of him you’ll forget how to breath.

“I hate you.” You sob but pull Ashton closer and you shudder as he kisses the top of your hair. “I love you. I can’t fucking do this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ashton whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry I did it and I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m so so sorry I fucked it all up.”

“No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to say sorry and have yourself feel better and leave me here like this. You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m— “

“I fucking love you,” You yell and somewhere, someone sounds their horn as they pass you and you kick up a cloud of dust. “God, I love you so much but I can’t fucking trust you and I hate you a lot but I still love you too. And I don’t understand how you can say you feel the same when you did all this.”

Ashton stops in his tracks then, freezes just like you did in the department store. “No one picked up the phone for me, you know that? No one picked up for the longest time and when Luke finally did, he gave me a fucking earful.” Ashton pauses, lowers his voice. “And I didn’t care.”

Everything in your head snaps quiet.

“What?”

“I didn’t care,” Ashton says, “because all I could think about was getting you back. I knocked on Luke’s door that first fucking night and said I want to go home.”

“But that can’t be true,” you whispered, “because you fucked someone else.”

You see the way that rips through Ashton, see the way it absolutely breaks him but you don’t feel satisfied. You just feel so, so tired.

“Yeah,” Ashton says and it’s the first time you’ve heard him own up to that. “Yeah and it only took me a fucking second to realise I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

You don’t say anything, watch the moon and the sky and a red car that growls past before you finally look back to Ashton.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton says. “But tell me what it is and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want. You’re so...” he trails off, bites his lip. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. You’re my favourite person in the world and I want to make you believe that again, if you’d let me.”

It’s too much, it’s all too much and suddenly all you need to do is go home and go to bed.

“Yeah. Well. I think you’ve done enough for today. Let’s go.” And the car is silent for the two hours back to the city.

You let Ashton walk you to the door for no other reason than you’re too tired to stop him. He casts a hopeful look at the door but you remember everything you’ve thrown out, what the apartment looks like now and the anger and emptiness still between those walls and you know you can’t let him in.

“You should go, Ash.” You say finally.

“Please,” is all he says. “Please, baby.” His voice is miserable and cracked and hoarse.

“I’ll call you.” You murmur. “I promise. I just...I just need a couple days.”

Ashton nods, presses a kiss to your cheek and leaves without another word.

You open the door and fall straight onto your bare bed. You’ve driven for hours, had the life drained out of you and all you need now is to sleep.

🥀

You get yourself a coffee the next morning, enjoy the sun for just a little while before you head back inside and sit and stare at your phone for a good couple of minutes. You know who to call, know what you want to say but you’re not sure if you’re ready for the conversation.

But you suppose that if you don’t do it now, you’ll have to do it later.

So, you pick up the phone, dial and it only takes a couple of seconds before Calum picks up on the other end.

“Hey,” you can already hear the concern in his voice, already know he’s straight back into panic mode. You can’t let it phase you though and so you take a breath and begin. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think,” you start, closing your eyes. “Do you think it’s stupid or, I don’t know, weak if I take him back?”

Calum doesn’t say anything for a long time, although you can hear him drumming his fingernails on the table top.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that as long as you’re in this for you and not him...then I think forgiving him is the strongest thing you can do.”

“I haven’t forgiven him yet.” You mumble.

“I know.” He says, waits for you to speak again.

“Thank you,” you say because you need him to know how much he’s meant to you throughout this. “I do love you Cal, really.” And of course, it’s not in the same way you love Ashton, you doubt you’ll ever love someone the way you love Ashton, but you need him to know nonetheless.

“You know,” he pauses and when he speaks again you can hear his smile down the phone. “You changed the sheets, not me.”

You laugh and cry at the same time.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Calum murmurs gently. “Go get him.”

And so you do.

🥀

The first couple months are difficult to say the least.

You walk on eggshells for the first while, walk around each other and every touch, every brush of your skin against Ashton is uncertain. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to Ashton breathing softly next to you and it’ll get too much and you’ll pad to the living room and sleep on the couch and wake to Ashton staring at you from the kitchen with guilt in the pit of your stomach.

When you come home and Ashton isn’t there, there’s an initial wave of nausea that hits you so hard you can’t do anything but sit and stare at the TV without turning it on. You know that he’ll be getting groceries or having a beer with the boys but all you’ll be able to think is that he’s back out with her and he won’t be coming back to you.

There are days when you think you can’t do it and nights when you can’t be in the same bed with him. The uncertainty lingers for a while but in the midst of that, there’s so much more. You start dating each other again and Ashton looks at you like you’re his whole world. You eat takeout and watch cheesy movies and take stupid photos and there are nights when you stay up until three in the morning and talking about everything that’s happened. There are nights when neither of you say anything either too, you don’t need to, because you know you’re going to be okay.

Everything mends, slowly. There comes a day when you don’t find broken bits of glass in the drawer in the bathroom. There comes a day when you’re on the couch with Ashton and you think that, somehow, it’s exactly how it used to be.

“Baby,” Ash murmurs one night, knowing that you’re okay with the nickname now. “You awake?”

You leave it for a second and then reply. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.” Ashton says and you roll your eyes in the dark.

“Dangerous.” You grin into his chest. “What about?”

Ashton’s quiet for just a little too long before you realise this isn’t just going to be a goodnight.

“I just,” he says, “I lie here and I think about you. And I just...I just want you to know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather fall asleep than right here. That’s what I think every night before I go to sleep.” Ashton pulls you closer as you stay silent. “I just need you to know that I love you.” And he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you murmur and you kiss his jaw and then his lips with heavy eyes. “I know. I love you too, if you hadn’t realized.”

Ashton seems happy with that but you stay awake a little longer. You brush your hand over his skin until you’re calm enough to fall asleep next to him, next to the love of your life. And when you wake the next morning, it’s to the smell of Ashton cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

Everything mends, slowly.

The two of you mend last, but you think that’s okay. Because back before this, back when it all began, you were the one to change the sheets. And, you suppose, if changing the sheets wasn’t so bad, the rest won’t be either.

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 11)

Hello Darlings, it’s been a long time coming, but here is the next part of The Chain. (: Please know that there is a little bit of forcing in this chapter to make things work, but its called a plot hole, not a plot no (((: Also, she is nice and long for you guys since it has been sometime since she got some TLC. 

I’ve got two words for you all: Time Travel.

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. Stupidity ensues.

Enjoy

Find the rest of the fic here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

tag list:  @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @... the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

The barge glides through the murky water of the river and beyond the polished silver railing I rest my hand on, the shore of the Stilts rolls by like a faded oil painting. Ahead of me, hanging over the water, is an old tree Bree once dared me to crawl out on. The branches skim the water like skeletal fingers. I curl my own fingers around the railing in response to the memory of Bree’s laugh. I hope I get to hear it again, echoing in my parent’s town home. 

           The footsteps behind me are too light to be Cal. Even with all the work he has done to learn subterfuge, he is still a large human being. He’ll never be very good at sneaking up on anyone. I force an inhale when warm air washes over my side though. 

           Maven rests his forearms on the railing to watch the Stilts with me, his jaw tight and his eyes dark. I didn’t see him earlier today before we cast off, and I made sure he had no reason to speak with me now. I left nothing in those cells when I rescued Farley, not even a dusting of blood for Elara to use against me. Whatever he has come to discuss, it will define every point from now until the end.

           “Have you heard of the chess move known as the King’s Snare?” His voice is softer than I thought it would be, given how hard the planes of his face are.

           I glance at him warily, chewing on a response. I don’t want to talk to him about chess. I know he’s a master of it, that in all the years they played, Cal never beat him. Cal, the future general and war strategist who could throw together a plan in minutes with nothing but a handful of Reds, Ardents, and Silvers, never beat the boy before me. I don’t know why I think I have a hope of beat him or Elara.

           “No. I don’t play chess.” I murmur letting the wind shift the loose hairs hanging by my cheeks. It plays in his curls too, tussling them like a loving hand.

           The corner of his lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile before he turns to face me. He doesn’t flinch from my gaze, but that smile does fall. Pressing off the railing to stand at his full height, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought. “It’s a complex maneuver, and requires turns upon turns of preparation. It is the only strategy you can play once you initiate it. In each step, you make it appear as if you are losing. You let your opponent think they have won, and in the final step of preparation, you let your queen be taken and your king be cornered in a check mate.”

He shrugs before looking back onto the bank. His eyes sweep along the shacks on their tottering stilts. “Then, you take the opposing king with the only piece you have left. A pawn.”

           I raise a brow at it before saying, “sounds complicated. I don’t have the patience for playing the long game, and I especially don’t like playing with people’s lives like they are pieces in my game.”

           A fire lights in his eyes as he drags them over me, his expression hardening again. “I’m not so sure that’s the truth.”

           His words are a warning in and of themselves. Squaring my shoulders to him and stabbing my nails into my palms, I purse my lips in a line to swallow my retort. We stand in a stalemate for a moment before he reaches a finger out to let a strand of my hair curl around it. His expression crumbles for just a moment before that mask slides up and hides the wounded boy underneath.

           “Let’s not play this game Mare.” He bows his head and his lips almost ghost over my brow. I turn my head to the side to avoid the touch.

           “I just told you I’m not playing games.”

           His chuckle is humorless. With a quick step he closes the space between us completely and I have to crane my neck to meet his eye. 

           “You’re still useful to me and mother, but Cal has overstayed his welcome by a few years. His whole life actually, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

           No more dancing around it then, we are going full in with the truth. I twist my lips to the side, letting my sneer finally grace my features. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you two get away with what you did a second time, you’re wrong.”

           “Even if it means you lose everything you have coming?” He asks me that as if he actually cares. It makes me reel back while he smiles like a wolf. “We know Mare, and while it’s adorable watching you attempt to play against us, you played your final card last night.”

           My lightning dances on my fingertips. What I wouldn’t give for Tyton’s brain lightning, so that I could turn Maven’s insides into jelly and leave him on this deck before going after Elara. I should have ended all of this weeks ago. I could have, I know that for a fact. 

           “I haven’t played any of my cards yet.” I warm Maven with a raised chin. I let the mask of Mareena disappear and I let him see Mare Barrow, the girl who bested two kings, the woman who has seen more than enough front lines, and who was born in a storm on top of a mountain. She has been broken and put back together so many times that she knows every piece of herself better than she ever did before. She thrives in storms and turns them to her will like this boy turns words to his.

           “You haven’t seen anything Maven. Don’t for one second think you have cornered me.” My lips curl into a small smile as I look him over with a critical eye. “Besides, while you’re playing chess, I am playing another game entirely.”

           A muscle in his jaw flutters when I speak, and his eyes darken further.

           Pressing to my toes, I let my next words caress his lips like a kiss. “And if you two do know everything, I’m surprised you haven’t removed any and all letter openers from my reach while we’ve been together.”

           His face pales in a flush, and the air around us climbs in temperature so quickly beads of sweat begin to prickle on my brow. Ignoring the monster I’ve obviously poked awake, I set my hand on his chest right above his pounding heart and drop my eyes to his lips before looking back up to meet those icy blue eyes.

           “And as for your mother, I think I killed her too quickly the first time.”

           His tongue darts across his teeth for a second before disappearing as his lips pull back in a sneer. There is a flash of something akin to uncertainty in his eyes though. A thrill rushes through me. She didn’t tell him that part, and she might have even kept his own death from him. Interesting.

           Sliding back away from him and dropping my hand, I take in his flittering emotions he desperately tries to keep under control. I can’t image what is passing through his mind. If Elara didn’t tell him about their deaths, what else has she kept from him? It might be worth it to poke a little more and find out.

           Even as the thought of prying him open and exposing his hollow insides thrills me, I can’t help thinking of how he spent hours near my bedside after Samson had turned me inside out and left me a bleeding corpse. Nor can I ignore that once upon a time, a part of him had loved me.

           “Oh Maven,” I breathe, my chest aching once more as I look him over. “You could have been something wonderful if you had been anyone else’s.”

           His inhale is sharp, and the heat around us vanishes as he sucks it in to fuel the furnace of his emotions. The next words that leave me are as much a truth as they are a weapon that I use against him.

           “I might have loved you too, you know. I might have been happy with you.”

           His entire body goes taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. I can’t imagine what those words have done to him, I know what they do to me. They relive the ache and chase away the cold bite from the autumn breeze that cuts through my loose shirt. I have known for years that he would never truly leave me, that I will always love him in a strange way. But seeing all of this, and discovering that even when I might have had a chance to save him, there was no chance so long as Elara loved him too.

           “The game is beginning. Line up your pieces if you want to play chess.” I murmur to him before stepping around him and heading for the viewing deck. I pause long enough to glance at him over my shoulder though and say, “but just know, it’s hard to beat an opponent that knows every move you will make.”

(/Cal/)

           Mare finds me between meetings. Her dark hair is swept up in an elaborate hairstyle she picks at nervously, drawing strands out to frame her face. Glancing over my shoulder at the remainder of the council as they pass, I pause before her long enough to say colorlessly, “Is something wrong Lady Titanos?”

           The few sets of eyes that watch us look away with shrugs. Their ears are probably still tuned in, but as far as they are concerned, she is probably looking for Maven and happened to find me first.

           “Farley made contact. The Hexaprin Theater just like before.”

           She’s been gone most of the day with Maven, making appearances and smiling like the dutiful princess she is. I’m not sure how Farley could have possibly made contact with her during all of that, but it’s a relief she didn’t contact Maven first. Meanwhile, I’ve been locked up in Whitefire. My father has hardly let me out of his sight, which I suppose should be understandable. The attempt on my life shook him to his core. Even though I push back, insisting they wouldn’t try again, he refuses to let me leave the castle walls. I don’t know how I will get out to join Mare in this endeavor like she wants with the Sentinels that trail me almost everywhere I go. I guess it now truly understand how Mare felt during her time with us. I don’t blame her for constantly being irritable now. 

Still, my brow rises as the name of the theater. I know it well. When I was younger Julian used to take me to plays and tried to pique my interest in the art form. I had squirmed in my seat the whole time, eager to get out of the dark space and run outside. He gave up once I turned ten, realizing I didn’t have much love for the arts. I knew it saddened him, that he had hoped I shared the same soft spot for them that my mother did. 

My chest tightens at the thought of my uncle. I got him out of Archeon earlier than before, helping him and Sara smuggle away in the dead of night after he got Farley and Kilorn out of the cells. I sent him to Montfort with instructions to speak with Dane Davidson as soon as possible. To try and get him in contact with Guard. There’s no telling if they made it. I can only hope they managed to cross the border.

“It’ll be tough for me to get out.”

“This will only work if you come with me.” Mare insists, her eyes darting past my elbow to the doors of the council chamber. I know who she’s looking for, but she won’t find him.

“He’s seeing to something with his mother.” I instruct, even as I glance around just to be certain. Only a servant passes in a flutter of skirts. She curtsies to me and Mare before hurrying along, obviously loath to be around us any longer than necessary.

“The bloodbase.” Mare’s voice drops to a worried waver as she sets her hand on her pocket. I know she has the book hidden in the pocket of her jacket, the one Julian gifted her with the name of every Ardent he found within Norta’s borders. She sleeps with it under her pillow, her fingers curled around the faded cover as if Maven will creep into her room at night and steal it away.

Shaking my head, I grab her elbow and pull her into an alcove when I hear the sound of more steps approaching. I squeeze into the space between the pillars with her until our bodies almost have to become one to fit. Her hands rest on my chest as she evens out her breathing, recognizing a hiding place when she sees it.

A group of nobles pass us, Osanos and Iral judging by the colors of their clothes. I purse my lips and wait until they leave the hall to look back down at her and whisper. “I took care of it. I printed out all their names and wiped them from the database. They’re safe.”

“Unless Maven is already going after them.” Mare mutters bitterly.

“He hasn’t. I checked last known whereabouts too. Everyone is accounted for.”

“People lie on those stupid records Cal.”

“Not when you’re the first person in years to click on the page.” I let my lips curl into a knowing smile. She can think I’m stupid and hardheaded all she wants, but I do know my way around my own world. “There is a clicker at the bottom of each record to indicate the last time it was opened. I am the first one to look at them in years. You can’t lie to that program.”

           She expels a breath, before look up at me through her lashes. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. We’re meddling too much now.”

           “At this point, does it really matter?” I ask, repeating words I spoke to Julian in the dead of night when he questioned my decision to send him to Ascendent.

           Her lips draw into a tight line that pales her already painted lips. “No.” She agrees before sliding out of the alcove so I can follow her.

           When we step into the light, I watch the shifting sunbeams as they cut across her face. She crosses her arms before looking down the hallway and saying, “We need to get into the afternoon showing. Can you do that?”

           I grimace thinking about my father and the hawk like eyes he has kept on me recently. “It’ll be difficult, but nothing I can’t handle.”

           “Do you want to rehearse with me?” She teases, eyes lighting with laughter when she notices how I chew on my lower lip.

           “I think I’ll tell my father that I’ve decided Evangeline can take a long walk off a short pier and that I much prefer you and I plan to make heirs with you as soon as we enter than theater box.”

           Her eye widen and a blush paints her cheeks. It’s so ferocious the makeup almost can’t hide it. It makes me chuckle before reaching a hand out to cup her jaw and stroke a thumb along that warm puddle of red staining her skin. “Kidding love. Although I think that he’ll be so surprised and horrified that he lets me go just to see if I’m serious.”

           “Mess up my nice skirts Tiberias and I will take your hands for it.” She snorts before pulling away and throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “Get us tickets to the show and be there with me. Also, it might be a good idea to assign Walsh to a... different part of Whitefire.”

           I grimace, remembering the last time I saw her foaming at the mouth while I tried to close her throat to keep the poison from spreading. I sent her for Mare, trusted her with the secret that I met a Red girl in the Stilts and cared. Regardless of what Mare might have thought of me before when that moment passed, I did care. A part of me had been horrified to watch the light leave Walsh’s eyes.

           “I’ll make sure of it.” I whisper.

(/Mare/)

           The theater darkens, and I sink back into my chair, keeping an eye on the Sentinels standing in the doorway. They are here to protect Cal. Allowances had to be made so that he could leave Whitefire, but its an allowance that may cost us our meeting with Farley. There are more of them than before, but they’re simply a hinderance, one that will have to be dealt with at some point very soon.

           Honestly, Maven and Elara trying to kill him has simply become an annoyance now. If they hadn’t, it would be so much easier to sneak around with Cal.

           “They have to go.” I murmur, letting my eyes flint to them as I edge a little closer to the railing of the box and glance over it into the crowd below.

           With a quick nod, Cal leans back in his seat. Before Maven gave the secretary that came with us a mischievous smile and quick order to get rid of our tail. Cal can do no such thing without raising suspicion. It’s already gotten out that I am the one that shouted his name and stopped the bleeding during the Sun Shooting long enough for Sara Skonos to get to him and save him. But Cal spread a faster rumor behind it, his words burning like wildfire through the High Houses, erasing the rumor I know Elara started about us. My shout hadn’t been in fear according to his account, it had sounded like nerves. Maybe I’d lost Maven in the crowd and gotten overwhelmed by the proceedings, and when I had seen Cal I called to him for help. Because of that, I had been close enough to stop the bleeding when the gun went off.

           I had been shocked at the lie he told with an abandon to his father and the court, and how well he crafted it on a moment’s notice. Perhaps he needed to stop spending so much time around Dane. I had noticed that crafty man spending a suspicious amount of time trying to craft Cal into a better Statesman in the recent years.

           “Sentinel Osanos, if you could take the others into the antechamber.” He nods over his shoulder to the small sitting room attached to the box. “I doubt you and the others have any interest in this show and your presence is unfortunately ruining Lady Mareena’s first impressions of it too.”

           “I have my orders, sir.” The Sentinel warns, his eyes darting between the two of us.

           “I can handle anything that comes.” Cal lets his lips quirk into an arrogant smile. I haven’t seen it in a long time, but it’s one of the few soldiers masks in his arsenal. It still makes my stomach flutter. “Besides, Lady Mareena has proven herself quite capable of saving my life if need be.”

           Osanos debates it for a very long second as the murmurs below us quiet and the curtain rustles with the start of the performance. During that second, my heart pounds. I don’t dare look up at the grating above out heads where I know Will Whistle will appear.

           “Of course, Your Highness.” The Sentinel bows his head and then nods to bring the others with him into the room. The door clicks shut, and the lock engages. I grab Cal’s hand and squeeze it in silent praise, before glancing at him side on.

           “Impressive.”

           His smile falls as he looks away from the door and forward again. “We’ll have to be silent. We’re lucky my father didn’t send an Eagrie with us.”

           Unfolding from his position in the chair to relax further, he turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. The touch sends waves of reassurance through me. Now we just have to keep him hidden long enough that Will doesn’t recognize him and gets us to Farley. After that, I’m not quite sure what we will do.

           “Farley won’t let you on the Undertrain without a fight.” I murmur, glancing at our joined hands. He sweeps his thumb along my skin in a soothing motion even as his eyes stay forward on the stage as it comes to life.

Gentle touches in the dark, so very like how our relationship started. It almost makes me snicker. I suppose things never really did change between us.

He doesn’t reply to my comment, but I know he’s thinking about it all the same. His palm heats with his frustration, but he doesn’t show it on his face.

I let my eyes wander to the stage where I finally get a look at the play I never watched before. Brightly colored costumes dance across the stage and I tilt my head to look at them, trying to understand the story. “We never went to any of the plays in Ascendent.” I murmur to him.

There were plenty of playhouses, and I know for a fact Julian got us tickets to one he loved. We never got the chance to go, but now I wish we had.

“I’ve never been a fan of theater.” He chuckles and finally turns to look at me. He traded his finer regalia for a more toned down jacket and black shirt today. With the aid of the darkness, I can almost imagine we are in Ascendent, that it’s just another weekend and we decided to do something we’ve never done.

“Then when you annoy me, I am going to drag you to shows when we get back and tie you to a chair so you can’t leave.” I say with a smirk.

The ceiling panel above our heads slides away, and his eyes dart up at the same time as mine. We’re both accustomed to how the Guard functions. The sudden disappearance of the tile doesn’t surprise him like it did Maven.

“Show time.” I whisper to him before dropping his hand and stepping on the seat of my chair. Grasping the edge of the hole I haul myself up into the darkness. When I glance down to help him though, he is already half-way into the crawl space with me. The panel slides into place as soon as Cal vanishes in the shadows. I wait half a second for Will to sound an alarm to notice that I don’t have the right prince with me.

He does no such thing, simply speaks into the darkness the same words he did before. “Be quick and quiet. I’ll take you from here.”

I reach for Cal’s wrist in the dark and grip it tightly with a reassuring squeeze. Will turns and begins to climb through the space, not waiting for us to follow.

“Watch your head,” I instruct as I skirt the edge of the ceiling panel. “It gets low in a few places.”

Cal grunts in understanding but follows at a pace that surprises me. It was a tight squeeze for Maven, so I don’t really know how Cal manages but he does. I’m sure he has Farley’s work with him to thank for that. He crawled through enough sewer tunnels and drains with us while we were at the Notch after all. I’m sure while I was locked away with Maven he was doing the same thing too.

The sounds of the play overhead mask our movements as we drop down ladders and steps and through little trapdoors. Cal only smacks his head once, and I flip around to grab his head to check for blood when he curses soundly in the dark. I grimace when I feel the nasty knot already taking shape on his forehead near his hairline. That will have to be explained away when we get back, but we really truly don’t have time to assess it too much. Will sets grueling pace, and Cal practically shoves me forward when the Whistle almost disappears around a turn.  

It takes only minutes for us to drop into the access tunnels that connect to the Undertrain platform. The damp chill of the space presses through my thin jacket and pants, reminding me of the march we did into Archeon to save Cal and everyone from the Lakelander invasion. Cal drops lightly down behind me though, and instantly the space warms and the memory fades. It’s still too dark to see his features clearly which is only to our advantage. I can’t have Will trying to stop us now.

That cover does not last long though. The platform is haunted by a lone torch, and when Will turns around with a sharp smile, ready to bask in our surprise, his eyes widen as he takes in Cal behind me. I set my hand on Cal’s chest in response, trying to push him back into the shadows while I light my hand with lightning.

Will never gets a chance to act though, the furious screech of the Undertrain as it rushes into the station shakes the walls and announces Farley’s arrival. As it coasts to a stop in front of us, Will spins to the doors and waves his arms while trying to shout over the screeching of the brakes to give a signal to not stop. The train grinds to a halt though, and the doors still open to spill more light onto the platform.

Farley unfolds from the chair like a spring let loose. Her hand flies to the gun at her hip, and I spin to face her with my lightning at the same time. Even with my ears ringing from the sound of the brakes engaging, I can hear the click of her turning the safety off as she draws the gun.

“Farley—” I try to shout, but Cal beats me to speaking, his voice a dangerous warning echoing in the tunnel as he glares Farley down.

“Diana, stop.”

He would have gotten the same reaction if he burned her alive. Farley’s eyes widen at the usage of her birthname, and her fingers wavers on the trigger long enough for me to speak.

“He’s with us.” I urge as I drop my hand, but I don’t dismiss the lightning bouncing between my fingers like webbing. It’s my own warning to her. She knows what I can do, and like her, I don’t miss anymore.

Her laugh is unexpected, and I almost jump at the sharp bite of it. She keeps the gun raised, but her fingers slides from the trigger to rest alongside the barrel. It’s the only sign she is still listening to us. “The little prince was right. He’s whispered his way into your head.”

“The only ones whispering into anyone’s heads is Maven and Elara .” Cal speaks quietly, his eyes scanning the track and the platform for any more Scarlet Guard operatives. There are none to be seen though.

Farley tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing to diamond colored slits. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull the trigger or even move her finger in the direction of it.

I expel a slow sigh of relief and take a step forward. I can feel the burn of electricity in the train, screaming like an upset toddler to be released. Gritting my teeth against the heachache forming because of it, I murmur, “you trusted me to get you out of that cell, trust me in this Farley. Hear us out.”

Her eyes moves past my shoulder to Cal who staggers his stance to move in either direction if he has to avoid her bullet. Her jaw ticks, and the electricity reaches an all time high pitch that stands my hairs on end. I haven’t felt anything like it weeks, not since the shield during Queenstrial exploded around me and tried to contain me.

“Make your decision, the Undertrain won’t wait.” I grimace as I reach up to press my fingers to my temple where the ache is strongest. If she notices my use of the train’s name, she doesn’t say anything.

Cal takes a step forward, stealing ground, only for Farley train that gun on him again and rest her finger on the trigger. 

“Not another step, Your Highness.” She squeezes gently, putting enough pressure on that trigger that even the slightest movment on her part will fire the gun. I side step to put myself in front of Cal should she overestimate her abilities, but Cal simply pushes me to the side again.

With quick movements he unclasps the bracelets around his wrists and holds them up to the light for Farley to see. “Incentive,” he murmurs before tossing them in her direction. She lowers the gun to catch them one handed, almost dropping them due to their weight. I inch forward, my hand extended for them in surprise. I trust Cal to make a tactical decision, but he just threw his own tactical advantage five feet away from him.

The metal bands glint dully in the odd florescent lights of the Undertrain, but Farley glances down at them, unimpressed. With a quirked brow she raises the gun again, although its much more hesitant this time.

“I’m nothing without them.” Cal instructs while he sweeps his arms out from his sides as if to accentuate his point. “Keep them until we finish talking if it pleases you. But we do have to talk.”

“I know.” Farley reasons, her eyes narrowing before darting between the two of us. Even if I didn’t know her as well as I do, I could see the distrust and unease in her eyes. I can’t imagine what Maven has told her, but I know that he hasn’t spoken to her since before the Sun Shooting. It is our only advantage right now, that and the fact that Julian and I were the ones to get her and Kilorn out of the cells below the palace. It doesn’t hurt either that by the time we got down to the cells, the king was more concerned with his son almost dying than the rebels trapped in the cell before him. There had been no time for the interrogation that I know almost cost Farley her arm. She got off easy, too easy, because of us.

Whatever battle she is fighting with herself ends, and she steps to the side to let us pass.

(////)

Narcery is more disheveled than I remember. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already seen most of it repaired and turned into a decent city again years from now. Or maybe it’s because I’ve truly forgotten how downtrodden the world was before we began to right it. Either way, it’s hard not to grimace as we slink through the streets toward the café Farley stomps toward.

The Reds in the doorwards gasp and whisper as Cal passes, and I reach down to grip his hand. None of them are New Blood that I know of, but if someone gets it in their head to finish was Farley started, they won’t make it more than two steps.

He gives me a reassuring squeeze as we pass through the crumbling doorway of the café and into the dimly lit space. In his little booth, Kilorn practically almost leaps to his feet, his eyes wide while his hand flies to the gun on his belt.

“Stand down.” Farley orders smoothly, earning a frown from my friend. He doesn’t immediately listen, but his fingers eventually relax and drop back to his side. I release the tension in my shoulders in response. The air in the room shifts with the change in heat and static that Cal and I bring, but the ice in Kilorn’s gaze might as well be tangible too.

“And why haven’t we shot him?” He asks Farley as she drops into the booth.

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him and glares in our direction. Cal’s bracelets clink against the dusty table as she sets them out in the open. With a tilt of her head, her expression relaxes and the nasty scar cutting through her lip softens. It never ceases to amaze me how young she really was when this all started. We were all still just children, playing games we never should have.

“They want to speak,” she says, her eyes dropping to our entwined hands. “And I have to admit I am curious what excuse Mare will give to explain blowing our entire operation to pieces.”

“We hardly blew it to pieces, you were almost completely successful.” Cal huffs behind me, and I dig my elbow into his side in response. No use pissing off Farley, or enticing her to pull that gun out again. We both know she will too.

Glaring at Cal for his comment, I address the other two sitting in the booth. “Maven gave you Cal’s name, but he was not the original target.”

“No,” Farley agrees, “he wasn’t.”

“It was Ptolemus Samos.” I turn my eyes back to her, and am rewards with a quirked brow, the only sign she is surprised by my knowledge. Kilorn is not as good at hiding his emotions. His brows dart up towards his hair line as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You missed that meeting, the one where he gave us the original names! He told us that he never told you them... you can’t possibly have known—”

“I know because I’ve already been through that shooting before. You don’t get Ptolemus that time either.” I step forward and leave Cal behind me, safely in the line of my body. If Farley wants to shoot him at any point in time, she’ll have to shoot me first. “The Sun Shooting was a disaster that time, and it was a disaster this time.”

Kilorn blinks at me, confusion sweeping over his face now. Farley is simply more skeptical, and rightfully so. I didn’t exactly explain anything, just created more questions and puzzling conclusions for her.

“What are you getting at Barrow?” She murmurs as her eyes dart to the broken window behind me. I don’t dare look at who might be there. If its Shade, I will never be able to leave these ruins.

“You have to promise to listen to us, to let us explain as quickly as possible.” Cal speaks for me and the heat that rolls off of him washes over me as he steps closer, soothing tense muscles I bunch in preparation to run. His hand presses into my lower back only a second later. “We don’t have much time.”

Farley’s eyes narrow even further as she takes in how we stand next to each other, and how we remain close enough to protect the other at all times. Even if Maven told her that I was slowly teetering toward Cal, our body language suggests a deeper relationship and understanding of each other than could ever be established in a few weeks. Not to mention Cal knew her name, her real name. There’s no way in hell he could have found that out on his own.

“Who are you?” She asks quietly after a moment, earning a worried glance from Kilorn.

My lips curl into a slow smile as I take in her uncertainty. I can’t remember the last time Farley was on the backfoot. She has always been so headstrong and driven, but she reels back now, like a horse seeing a snake under its hooves. “We’ve all met before, and known each other for years.”

“Bullshit.” She says, pushing to her feet and advancing on me. Cal’s fingers curl around my arm to pull me behind him. I stand my ground though and raise my chin as she stand over me.

“How’s your dad? The Colonel? Has that eye healed up yet?” I ask with a quirked brow. Her breathing fluctuates at the mention of him while she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes dart to Cal as if to assess how much he reacts to my words. He does nothing but glance down at me and drop my arm, catching on to what I’m doing. Farley won’t be bought over with a cute story like what we told Julian and Sara. She will need cold hard evidence, painful evidence if need be.

“It’s kind of cute that you decided your code name would be lamb, since his is ram.” I tilt my head to the side, earning an strangled inhale as she backpaddles. “Even more so given how infuriating he can be for you.”

Her whole face goes red, and tips of her ears tinge pink immediately. Kilorn opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes it again. I don’t blame him, the fury in Farley’s eyes is enough to burn me to the ground.

With her lips pressed into a firm line, she presses her shoulders back to stand to her full height. “Are you Command?” She asks stiffly, her eyes roaming over me and settling on Cal when he barks out a dry laugh.

I elbow him again and shoot a glare, but he laughs at my expression. Turning his amusement on Farley, he says, “no. I’m not even on the list of people they would open a position for.”

“We know those in Command though.” I shoot a single spark into Cal’s arm to shut him up, making him snap back and rub the spot.

“I don’t believe you. Its not possible.” Farley growls setting her hand on her gun.

“I would appreciate you not drawing that gun Diana.” Cal warns his amusement dying as fast as my comfort with the situation.

“Who told you my name.”

“I know it from previous experience.”

“Don’t see how that’s possible.” Kilorn grumbles before rising from the booth as well. His eyes dart between the two of us, and as he starts to form his own opinon the curiosity in his eyes bleeds away into brittle resentment.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other for years.” I push past my locked jaw. This is starting to look next to impossible but if we have any hope of saving ourselves from the disaster to come, then we have to get them to listen to us.

“To be more clear, we will know each other for years someday.” I correct my previous statement quietly, letting the words hang in the too heavy air for a few seconds. Farley quirks a brow, realization crossing her features as she starts to put things together. She’s always been quick as a whip, and that works to our advantage.

Right when I think she’s about to say something though, she laughs. Kilorn blinks at her, taking a hesitant step away. I doubt he’s ever heard the sound, but I know it well. It still cracks on the edges the same way it does in the future. Honestly, it always sounds like she never laughs, even though I know for a fact she does that more than anything someday.

“Barrow, I have seen what you can do. And while it turned everything I knew about the world upside down… you cannot expect me to also factor some form of time travel into this whole mess.” She shakes her head, and dismisses me with a wave. Still laughing to herself she sinks down into the booth, and takes to fiddling with Cal’s bracelets. There is a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes though, and I know exactly who and what she is thinking about.

“There are hundreds—thousands like me Farley. You haven’t met all of them yet, but there are abilities far stranger than mine. My brother’s for instance.”

Her expression pulls tight for a heartbeat before she smoothers the emotion. I pull on that line though, and step forward, pointedly ignoring Kilorn who is still gapping like a fish and trying to come to the same conclusion as Farley. “I know he’s alive, and that he’s here with you. He jumps, appearing in different places in seconds. I make lightning. There will be a New Town girl who becomes our friend that can kill you with a thought and silence Silvers in the same way. There are three other Reds just like me in Montfort. There is a girl who can bathe everyone in a bubble of silence so no one outside of it can hear you. Another woman can remember every single thing she reads or that is said to her. Another older woman can change her face to be whoever you need her to be.” My heart squeezes at the memory of all the Ardents I rescued and then sent to their deaths. I promised them safety, security, and then pulled all of that away from them. All because one man told me I had to do it. “Is it so hard to believe then that there is someone years from now who can send people back in time?”

Those diamond eyes snap to me and look me over before Farley’s lips twist into a half sneer. “Your brother is dead Barrow, he was executed for—”

“Farley, please.” I whisper, coming to stand over her. Even sitting she is almost as tall as me, but I channel every ounce of military prowess she tried to teach me as I glare down at her. “If I walk out of this room, I will find him in less than an hour, and you will feel incredibly stupid when I do.”

Her lips pale as she pushes them together, tighter than ever before. Her eyes dance to Cal beyond me again, who has thankfully kept his mouth shut this whole time and has decided to simply sit on the edge of a table to watch us.

“He came with me.” I soften my tone and slowly sink down into the seat opposite her. Her eyes follow me like a rabbit would a wolf. Her fingers are cold when I take them, even with how warm it is in the room. She doesn’t pull away though, and I wonder if somewhere, her future self recognizes my touch. “I need you to trust us. I know how hard that is with everything that has happened, but Farley you have to.”

“Do we win?” She asks the question so quietly, I almost miss it while I’m speaking. Every muscle in body tenses against the truth that wants to escape though. I glance at Cal, wondering if he heard the same thing as me. He simply looks down at his boots, unable to offer any aid.

Swallowing past the rock in my throat, I look down at the table top. It’s dusty and cracked in some places. But it has no answers either. We have already done so much to destroy the path we were supposed to be on, what was one more change? “Yes,” I whisper and her eyes flash bright and wide.

“But we pay may terrible prices for it.” The last part almost doesn’t make it out. Shade’s death tries to claw that statement to ribbons, Archeon burning, and all the people we lost in the Harbor Bay siege and the final Archeon siege weigh heavy against my chest. The silence stretches to the breaking point around us as those memories consume me. I wish I could take back those words, swallow them and refrain from admitting to what I’m sure she suspects. She must read the memories as they pass across my face because her expression softens a hint.

“Its war Barrow,” the Farley I know so well comes to the surface when she switches her grip to grab my hands instead. “I never expected to win for free.”

She narrows her eyes at Cal then, who simply gives her a tight nod she doesn’t return. “I still don’t like you.” She announces a second later. “And I hope I never do.”

“You give me a hard time for years, I promise you that much.” He teases, some of the light returning to his eyes. I crack a weak smile at their banter, even though I ache at the reminder of the future relationship they share. Farley never does let him off the hook, and every chance she has to remind him of his past, she does. I don’t blame her though, she never lets herself get too congenial with anyone.

“We trust him… just like that?” Kilorn tries to burn a hole between Cal’s eyes with his glare. He doesn’t succeed, especially when Cal smirks at him and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s the picture of ease, and I know that drives Kilorn insane.

“Relax Kilorn,” I tease, and then beckon Cal over to me. “He knows that if he steps out of line I won’t hesitate to put him back in his place.”

Farley glances between the two of us before saying, “So the second prince wasn’t lying. You two are…”

“In this together.” Cal finishes for her. His eyes narrow at what Maven might have inferred even as he looks down at me for confirmation.

“We don’t have time to get into details,” I add, making room for him in the booth as I lean forward to start drawing a map of Archeon in the dust on the table. “Maven and his mother know what we know. Which means they have been pulling the strings and trying to sabotage any advantage we have. They will not hesitate to wipe the Scarlet Guard off the map this time around.”

“I don’t understand.” Kilorn grumbles and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. “I thought we trusted that prince?”

“Maven is the one we have to worry about.” I finish drawing the bridge and narrow my eyes at the crude drawing. “He was always going to betray us.”

“How?” Farley sneers, obviously not happy with me inferring that she made a mistake in judgement. Maven was her recruit after all. “He’s given us names, information.”

“All fed to him by his mother, who is counting on us tomorrow night staging a coup and failing so that she can murder the king and remove you and any true Scarlet Guard opposition.” I murmur and watch as Farley’s fury melts into horrible understanding. My stomach drops but Cal speaks before I can.

“He’s already spoken with you and made the plan.” His voice is cold, even while the space around us starts to burn with the heat he releases. My own lightning wants to be unleashed as well. It takes more effort than I like to reign it in. I was wrong. He did speak with her, about more than just me and Cal. 

“He said Barrow would try to come to me and change my mind, that I had to know she was in collusion with you and planned to stand by your side when the time came. That she would ultimately betray me.” Farley breathes, her eyes widening. “He said that the coup was the only way we would win, remove you two in one swoop.”

“He and Elara were counting you believing him wholly and me not bringing Cal.” I growl, and swipe my hand through the map on the table to erase it. The plan is useless at this point. Maven already took it and molded it to his needs. I should have never spoken to him on the barge, maybe I should have just continued to pretend I was some stupid girl that didn’t know how to play the game. I may have destroyed any hope we had of beating him and Elara now.

“They also aren’t counting on us having any other plan. Or my support.” Cal murmurs before drawing his own map in the dirt. The angle is far different from what I drew. “They don’t know that I know the future or that I am with you all. They think Mare is the only one.” His finger moves through the dust and Kilorn finally edges closer to see what he draws.

“So we play into their hands.” He murmurs as he glances at me for my support.

“What?” I wheeze as I watch him draw the same offensive we instigated last time. “Cal, if we do that—”

“Then it all goes the way it did before, with the added benefit that when you get captured this time, we can stop Elara. We know what’s coming and we can plan for it.” Cal finishes drawing his map before drawing a second more detailed map of the Whitefire next to it. “This time, we won’t be alone in that room.”

I struggle to keep up with his thought process, trying to determine exactly how he plans to make this work. The only way Farley and the other Scarlet Guard members will make it into that room is in shackles like me. Elara will slaughter us all like pigs then. 

“The tunnels run under Whitefire right?” He asks Farley who hesitates for a second before nodding tersely. He etches a few makeshifts ones into the picture and then sits back to say, “when I take Mare captive for treason, you and a small unit will move through the tunnels and get to the throne room. From there, you wait for a signal Mare and I will give. When that happens, we take Elara and Maven.”

“Bold.” Farley murmurs as she glances over the plan. “And suicidal. We’ll never make it in.”

“You will if I don’t station anyone at a specific entrance. Name it, and I will keep the regiments away from it.” Cal waves his hand over the picture and glances forlornly in my direction. “If it fails, we still go to the Bowl of Bones, but this time we’ll know what to expect.”

My heart pounds in my chest as the memory of the too thin sand shifting beneath my feet almost overtakes me. Even though it is years behind me and days ahead of me, the heat of Cal’s fire trying to catch on the sand still burns my cheeks and my stomach twists at the echoing sound of the bar punching through Arven’s chest.

“In the meantime, you need to evacuate Tuck.” I whisper forcing the bile down as I look up at Farley. She blanches at the command, but I narrow my eyes to silence her. “Elara has seen in my mind. She knows about Tuck, she knows about a number of other Scarlet Guard strongholds like Narcery too. Did you not find it strange that Maven was not afraid to travel to a supposed heavily radiated place?”

She opens her mouth to argue with me, only to shut it like a trap and narrow her eyes. The thought never occurred to her, and I understand why. He probably got on the Undertrain and immediately started spilling honey and poison in her ear until she couldn’t even hear herself think. I can’t blame her for anything, he did the same to me, and I lapped at it like a starving child.

“Where will we go?” Kilorn whispers anxiously, his eyes darting to the street outside, as if a regiment might come marching down it right now. I don’t blame him. My friend is brave, always has been and always will be, but a Silver regiment is no laughing matter to him yet.

Cal stiffens next to me and says, “Irabella is the only safe haven. Mare was never there, but I was.”

“Why—”

“I doesn’t matter.” I interrupt Kilorn, and lean forward to speak again. “You just have to trust us. Tell the Colonel you have reason to believe Tuck and a number of other bases have been compromised. That an informate you have high up in the palace you trust explicitly told you that. The Notch is not safe either.”

Farley’s eyes widen, and it is then I realize that the mention of that safe haven is what finally secures her trust. The Notch was her hiding hole. Not one her father came up with. Command might not have even known about it. If what Cal and I said was true, and we were her allies in the future, she may have taken us there at some point. I wish I would have been smart enough to start with the mention of it. We could have saved time.

“And you need to start finding the others like me.” I whisper, as I pull the book out of my jacket pocket and set it on the table. The cover gleams against the dusty surface of the table, and I almost can’t pull my fingers off of it. The fates of so many reside inside of it. Cameron’s furious expression flashes through my mind as I ordered her taken onto the Blackrun. I will not force her into anything this time though. I only hope I don’t have to rescue her from a prison though.

I slide the book to Farley and trail my fingers off the cover as I whisper, “Maven and Elara might already be on the hunt for the Ardents in here, but I circled the names of the people that we rescued together. He will target them first if he is going after them, so you have to beat him to it.”

She picks up the book gingerly before looking between us and saying, “you mentioned the Bowl of Bones.”

Cal smiles wearily but leans back with the poise of a general to say, “we won’t have to worry about it. We’re going to avoid that point all together.”

Farley’s fears are not soothed by Cal’s confidence, and I can almost see the spikes she wants to drive through his eyes. At least she nods though, agreeing with him for the time being. I can’t even begin to express the relief that courses through me as she puts the book in her own pocket and nods once more.

“Then we will go with your signal.”

[harvestdew]

More cleo / haley (cley? Halo?) Headcanons pleaseeee <3

idk i'm obsessed with cley it sounds so funny. THANK U FOR ASKING THO ask and you shall receive

haley + cleo headcanons

cleo is taller than (my version) of haley but they don't have that massive of a height difference. i get 5'5-5'6 energy from haley and cleo's around 5'8 (which was kinda pushing it for a runway model). but w/ boots cleo is 2 inches taller. actually kinda pisses haley off when cleo calls her tiny to be a little shit and uses her as an elbow rest

anyone else remember nohra's cal because we established that cleo and cal hate each other even though haley and alex are good friends. haley forces cleo to go on double dates with them once in a while knowing it'll make cleo miserable but it never ends well. can't take either of them anywhere

cleo would never get back into modeling but feels comfortable enough to model for haley so she can practice her photography u_u i hc that haley and emily start a small clothing shop and use cleo to model some of their stuff for their website and cleo is happy to do it for free

cleo actually likes pda but only with haley. she's really smug abt it too bc after dealing with coming to terms with her lesbianism she has a lot of pride in how much she loves her gf. haley also likes being shown off because cleo just likes going LOOK HOW FUCKING PERFECT MY GIRLFRIEND IS. she has selfies or pictures of haley as her lock and home screens' wallpaper

already mentioned this but haley and cleo pretended to date first since i loved this to all the boys i've ever loved AU with her and took some snippets of it. basically they got together bc haley doesn't wanna make her friendship with alex awkward even though he actually has no interest in her. but then cleo did write a sort of break up song about haley bc they break up during their fake relationship (because cleo can't really fathom having real feelings for the person she likes since she's spent her whole life dating men she disliked). haley rightfully gets upset since they have a huge falling out over it but cleo takes it pretty bad and writes the song out of spite. i wasn't going to add a breakup arc until i heard the song woke up by marceline and did a double take. and to be honest sometimes she still performs it while they're dating cuz she was like "sorry this was a banger idk." she wrote haley a love song after to make up for it though </3

cleo realized she had genuine feelings for haley (sorry for being predictable) during her 8 heart event. something abt seeing haley go from being like "ew you smell like fish you're disgusting" to not caring about falling in the mud since she's having a good time gave her a heart attack. but her opinion about haley first changed drastically during her 6 heart event when she helped haley find her bracelet and haley thanks her where she thinks "oh she's not that bad"

after everything settles though and their feelings are pretty clear haley is the one who gives cleo the bouquet instead of the typical farmer gives bachelorette a bouquet. it inspired cleo to eventually take up basic gardening so she could grow sunflowers for haley all by herself and give them to her in the summer

haley sometimes begs cleo to let her do her makeup and dress her. their styles are so different that cleo would never be caught wearing anything haley does but she loves haley too much to say no sometimes so she just gives up on fighting it. haley tries to dress her in stuff that does fit her style but likes testing cleo's patience with cutesy clothing (which always ends with "if you weren't my girlfriend i'd blow my lid rn because this outfit's so ugly"). it's okay though because haley lets cleo play around with her hair

cleo didn't come to pelican town with her bass from her previous band since she smashed it into pieces. she didn't play for a while out of insecurity but when haley learned about it she ended up pitching the idea to sam to get cleo a bass she pointed out liking when they were hanging out. it was her feast of the winter star gift and cleo almost cried u_u. so basically we can thank sam but more importantly haley for helping her get her groove back

speaking of which tho haley is sam's band's biggest fan only cuz her gf is in it. she acts like a groupie and attends all their events and even wears the merch. cheers loudest at every single concert and is always at the front of the venue so she gets the best view even if she fucking hates seeing sebastian on the keyboard (my haley also hates him LOL)

i honestly feel like there's more but i'm forgetting it... BUT THAT'S ALL THAT I COULD REMEMBER and this post got really long. ty for the ask tho it makes me happy to see ppl interested in my disaster lesbians <:]

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

I didn’t remember the exact words I used in the request😂, but I thank for not deleting the translator’s history (I always use it to check that my sentence makes sense) 😅🤦 I wrote: “Ok, as I love the angst even though it hurts, after the end of the Onyx season I need drama. He could request that Vinca seriously injure MC to force her to kneel and Onyx arrives at that moment and sees her injured bleeding. Thank you” Thanks again❤

Warning: Mentions of injury.

…

You’re alone, again. Alone with Vinca, right after she dragged you away. Her expression is, for once, carefully blank. A far cry from her cocky smirk, dangerous edge, and intimidating presence. She still towers over you, nails digging into the skin of your arm, keeping you in place. Her gaze is still intense and powerful, hard like ice, too cold, too sharp, too deep. But it doesn’t have the same effect it usually does, like it’s muffled, like you are facing not the almighty Pride but the shadow she casts.

She almost seems resigned. Tired.

“You really think you’re something special, don’t you?” She murmurs. The knifes adorning her dress glint under the lights, blinding you this close to her. Her voice falls over you like a heavy blanket and you find yourself incapable of ignoring her. “That you can swoop in and save Onyx, just like that? As if this is a fairytale and you are its heroine?” Her lips peel back into a silent snarl. Every word courses through your body like lighting, and you take a second to wonder how you ended up like this, slumped in her hands as if you were a broken marionette. You should be doing more than this. You should be fighting the very universe for Onyx.

Instead you gaze up at Vinca’s eyes, and feel miserable.

“Do you seriously think you matter that much?” She continues. “Don’t be ridiculous… the only one who knows what Onyx really needs is me, her sister. And believe me when I say… she’d be better off without you.”

Green eyes as clear and pure as life itself. A smile as sweet as your favorite dessert. Her melodic voice and its alluring accent, ringing inside your dreams and hopes and future. Her warm touch and comforting embrace.

You scowl up at Vinca, still miserable, hurt by her words, but refusing to back down. So what if you were in over your head? What if you were tricked in the beginning? What if you had to endure demons and magic and mind-reading? Your emotions and feelings were still true. You should – no, you would fight the very universe for Onyx. You shouldn’t hesitate.

So Vinca knows what’s best? You can only think of one thing in response to that, after recalling long nights with Onyx, her nostalgic whispers of a better time: bullshit.

“Say what you will, Vinca, but I won’t kneel.”

Vinca grumbles. Pierces you with another half-hearted glare. “All this fighting makes me sick. Doesn’t it tire you, too? Don’t you want it to be over?” She urges, tightening her grip over your arm, pushing you down, down, down. “Don’t you want her to be free?”

“She will, but not because of you.”

She dodges your punch with barely any effort, expression tight with fury. She doesn’t retaliate when you pounce on her, attempting to knock her down, to land a single kick, to show her how wrong she is.

She groans with frustration with every attempt you make, bristling.

“You can’t say I didn’t try.” She hisses, and suddenly Pride is back at the next blink. Her gaze burns your very soul with its sudden intensity, and she dances out of your reach. She’s clearly toying with you, like a cat with its prey, knowing it has the upper-hand and allowing the prey to believe it has a chance at all.

It feels like that when Vinca suddenly switches to offense and you see you never had a chance at all, no matter how good you’ve gotten at fighting. It’s the same overwhelming feeling of helplessness that convinced you to leave med school, only a hundred times stronger.  You can’t land a punch, straining to keep up with her, while Vinca has enough time to flick several knifes at you, each drawing blood. You must have a dozen or so wounds at this point, if not more, and they only increase with each passing second. Eventually, your defenses fall – you are too tired – and Vinca manages to grab a handful of your hair, a sick, almost maniac smirk on her face. She smashes your head against the nearest wall at the next second. Pain explodes inside your skull, throbbing, overpowering everything else. Dazed, you try to recover, try to defend yourself, but a knee collides against your side with the strength of a raging bull and you can’t help but double over, trying not to fall. Vinca finishes your pitiable attempt with a clean hit to your exposed nape. You collapse at her feet with a groan.

“I’ll make you regret everything, Victoria.” You can barely make out her voice thanks to the ringing in your ears. You can barely see how she drops down in front of you, everything is too blurry. There’s something glinting by her hand… one of her knifes?

You shudder, trying to escape, but you’re still too disoriented and Vinca is too fast. She hums a lazy tune, as if she’s in no hurry, and you hiss when you feel how she grabs your shirt – the shirt Onyx spent so long working on – and pulls you upwards, moving your body as she pleases. You try to wriggle out, try to fight how she bends your knees and forces your gaze downwards, but she’s stronger.

You choke out a strangled gasp. Try to push her away with increasing desperation, then cry out thanks to a sudden, sharp, stinging pain in your arm… there’s no doubt Vinca just cut you, and deep. Warmth floods your arm as blood flows out. You blink down at it, trying to get your eyes to focus, to assess the wound.

But it’s over. You’re kneeling.

“How does it feel, Victoria? Still think you’re the heroine?” Vinca asks, toying with yet another knife. It hovers just over your exposed stomach.

You push her away, trembling. “Leave me alone.”

Vinca looks at you with disgust. “You need to learn.”

But before she can get any closer, there’s a blur of golden. Vinca lets out a surprised yelp, and suddenly Onyx is there, standing where Vinca had been, green eyes wide with worry as she takes you in.

“Your arm – Victoria, your arm.” She whispers, hands hovering over your skin as if she’s afraid to touch. “B-breathe, Victoria. I’m here. I’m here.”

“About time you showed up.” Vinca snorts somewhere to your right, sounding vaguely amused. Onyx barely gives her a glare. “Looks like your oh so wonderful girlfriend failed, Onyx. How does that make you feel?”

Onyx grits her teeth. Continues to ignore her in favor of reaping some of her clothes, trying to tend to your wound. Your senses are returning.

“That’s enough, Vinca!” Someone – Wrath, you realize with a relieved smile – barks. “Don’t move.”

“You just like making everything more difficult, don’t you?”

There’s a growl. Demons pour out of the shadows like rabid dogs, snapping to attention at Vinca’s command. You see Cal drawing closer to you, giving you a worried glance that barely lasts a second.

“We need to go.” He informs you, shooting and kicking any demon that gets close enough.

“Right! Right.” Onyx replies, but she’s pale. Her hands are shaking over your arm, taking in the hundred cuts you are sporting. “Don’t leave me, Victoria.” She murmurs. “Please, don’t close your eyes.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I didn’t… I didn’t lose too much blood.” But you definitely have a concussion. Your ears are still ringing, and the world spins when Onyx carefully helps you up. Seeing how pained she is makes you want to scream. This wasn’t supposed to happen – maybe Vinca was right, you do want to be some kind of heroine and save Onyx from everything that ever burdened her. You should have stalled. Done something else.

And Onyx looks so scared. God, so, so scared. It’s not fair to her.

Not for the first time, you curse Vinca, Dorran, and every single demon you’ve ever come across.

[ahsoka-lives]

Apprentice Part Two InquisitorCalxReader Soulmate AU

A/N :This plot is a ton of fun to write and a real stress reliever. I hope you all enjoy very much and I always enjoy feedback, I’ve especially loved reading the tags!! gif by @witch​

Warnings: Swear word(s), angst?

Word Count:2k

The transport ship was frigid and humming with electricity. You sat in silence next to a couple of troopers while Kestis was in the cockpit co-piloting. Your hands were still trembling from the adrenaline and every subtle whisper made you flinch.

“We have to stop for fuel sometime, do you think they’ll let us get something to eat?” A trooper asked his partner beside you.

“Our only stop is the hangar, try to find an MRE in there.” His partner grunted without turning to face him.

There was only four of them, you could probably slip past them when the ship landed. You quickly shook that idea out of your head when you remembered that you probably couldn’t outrun Kestis. You had no idea why you were even trying to plot an escape, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it? There was no way for you to know what lies ahead of you with Kestis or with your newly discovered ability and it made you feel restless.

Kestis barely spoke to you before boarding the transport and that didn’t help. You wanted so badly to make him explain what his plans were or what their plans were. From your knowledge, the Empire isn’t exactly friendly to Force-sensitives.

The ship jerked forward as it landed in the massive Imperial hangar. Troopers were at attention surrounding the ship as they awaited the arrival of the Inquisitor on board. Kestis was standing in the doorway of the bay with his helmet secured onto his head. The troopers next to you sprung to their feet and raised their hands to salute him while you watched from your place on the bench.

No way you were saluting anyone.

He strode over to you and gestured for you to stand. His helmet may have shielded his eyes but you could feel his eyes burning into you. Not wanting to show any amount of intimidation, you stared back into the mask with a blank expression.

“Hold out your wrists.” He said plainly through his modulator. You hesitantly raised your wrists up together for only a moment before you saw what was in his hands.

“Why do I need those?” You jerked your hands away from the metal cuffs in his grasp.

“Security has to determine you as non-threatening before you’re permitted to walk around without them. Wrists. Out.” He opened to cuffs expectantly.

“Fine.” You grumbled and allowed him to handcuff your wrists in front of you. The troopers formed a line in front of the main door with space in the back for you and Kestis to stand. One hand gently grabbed your forearm and the other rested on the small of your back. His head lowered slightly to sit near your ear.

“For the record, I don’t think you're threatening to a fly.” He chuckled quietly before straightening out his posture to lead you down the ramp. You had yet to see his face but you were sure there was a smirk on it. 

You stood in awe at how many troopers were ahead of you. They lined up on either side of the ship, perfectly still as you passed. At the end of the line was a man who was dressed in all black. He was dressed in fine clothing that you’d rarely seen on Bracca. He must’ve been a man of power.

“General.” Kestis nodded to the man.

“Master Kestis, well done once again. Take the girl to interrogation, they’re expecting her.” He instructed without even offering you a glance. The grip on your forearm tightened as he led you away from the General and toward the elevators. “And Master Kestis?”

Kestis stopped abruptly and turned his head to meet the General’s eyes. “Yes, General?”

“Congratulations.”

-

The Inquisitor stood on the other side of the two way glass as you laid strapped in the cold metal chair. You were tugging on the restraints and huffing in frustration, your eyes scanned the room for any details that would clue you in on what was to come. He was looking forward to hearing the information they got out of you, there was so much to learn about his newly acquired apprentice. 

“State your name for the record.” The man started while glancing at you.

“Y/n.” You didn’t meet his eyes instead, you were staring straight ahead with that same blank expression.

“Y/n what? I need your full name.” 

“It’s just Y/n. I could give you the name of my adoptive mother but I doubt that would be of use to you.” Your expression faltered and a hint of something came over your face, the Inquisitor took note of this.

“And why is that?” He continued with an eyebrow raised.

“Because she’s dead.” You revealed, your eyes flickered to his quickly before returning straight ahead of you.

The man only nodded in response and typed on his datapad. 

“How long have you been aware of your Force-sensitivity?”

“6 hours maybe, give or take a few.” You sighed and let your head fall back onto the thin cushion. These questions continued on for another 30 minutes, each one more tedious than the last.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” This question left the interrogator with an urgency you didn’t quite understand. It left a thick fog of tension in the room and those behind the glass were feeling it too. 

“I- I only know the Empire outlawed them but I don’t even know what for. Why does any of that matter?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you leaned forward in the chair. 

“We have what we need.” He all but ignored your question before leaving you alone again. You let your body fall back into the chair, you wanted answers too. You screwed your eyes shut and took in a shaky breath, what the fuck were they planning? This is not how you wanted any of this to go. Meeting your soulmate was supposed to be the best moment of your life. It wasn’t supposed to involve government interrogation and helping your soulmate murder someone. Tears started to form at your waterline and you choked back a sob. 

The sound of the door opening again made your eyes fly open, you blink away the tears and look at the Inquisitor standing in front of you. 

“What’s the point of all of this?” You asked in a tired voice. 

He stood there motionless for far longer than you would have liked. You opened your mouth to ask him to say anything, to do anything but stopped short when his hands hesitantly lifted the armor from his head and finally revealed his face to you. 

He had a small smile on his pink lips. Red hair flopped back with a few loose strands falling over his pale face. There were a few scars that had completely healed on his face but he looked far too young to have as many as he did. ‘Good looking’ was an understatement and you took a mental note to thank the maker that he didn’t look like a monster under that helmet. 

“You did well, Y/n.” His now unfiltered voice praised. “You won’t need the cuffs on our way out.” 

“You mind taking these ones off?” You asked and tugged lightly on the restraints.

He only nodded before kneeling down on one knee in front of you. He removed the ankle restraints first before making quick work of the ones on your wrists, it was obviously not his first time. Once freed, your wrist was quickly taken in his hand, his eyes taking in the words on your skin, his words. His thumb rubbed over it gently and the smirk on his lips persisted. Your chemical compatibility made this comforting but the reality of the situation put you on edge.

“Kestis?” You broke the silence first. 

“Cal, you call me Cal.” He cleared his throat and took a step back to give you room to stand. 

“Why did he ask those things, Cal?” You were almost afraid to ask and your fear was reflected in your eyes. Cal recognized that fear, he’d seen it a thousand times in other eyes.

“To find out who’s side you’re on, which I told them was unnecessary because of our relation.” He explained simply. “It was also to determine if you’re in need of conditioning.”

His blatant arrogance and confidence in your loyalty while impressive was not unfounded. Every minute spent next to your soulmate strengthened the bond between one another. Soon being separated would have negative effects on them in many ways and there was nothing either of them could do to prevent it.  Your upbringing didn’t allow such insight but Cal was more than aware of this, he was even looking forward to it. 

“Conditioning? For what?” Your voice was panicked and you took a step away from him.

“It’s common practice for when we get any new recruits but you’re not just a recruit. You’ll be my apprentice, y/n.” His words were sinking deep into your skin and your brain felt like it was taking in too much at once. “I’m going to teach you how to properly wield the Force. You showed real promise with the strength you exhibited on that boy. In fact, if you hadn’t scared yourself off I’m sure you could’ve brought him to the ground.”

“I could have saved him?” You murmured with disbelief washing over you. 

“Save him? Gods no, he was dead the second he decided to play savior.” He assured and secured the helmet in his hands.

“What did he do to get a death sentence?” You weren’t sure why you were pushing the subject but Cal seemed to find it funny. He chuckled lightly and ran his fingers through his hair, the helmet was put back onto the table. His eyes scanned your face with an unclear intent and his legs moved to close the distance between you. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he towered over you with a suspiciously gentle smile. His hands cupped either side of your face tenderly and your hands reflexively gripped his forearms, the contact brought a strange sense of relief to your tense body. 

“All of this will make sense soon, I’ll show you, I’ll teach you.” His thumb gently swiped over your cheekbone as you fought the desire to close your eyes and melt into his warmth. “But if you keep talking like that, I’ll put you through conditioning myself, sweetheart.”

-

“Transport is here to take us up to the ship, Sir” The trooper reported to Cal who nodded in response. His helmet had returned to his head as did his intimidating demeanor.

“Come on, the sooner we get up there, the sooner you can get some rest.” His distorted voice instructed and an arm extended to lead the way. You walked side by side, your poncho enveloped you making you feel shielded from the onlookers.

They probably wanted to know why someone in Cal’s position was hanging around some scapper from the yards of Bracca. You felt the distaste for their eyes on you growing the more bold their chatter got and Cal could feel it. Part of him wanted to tell you to cool off, some of these people were your superior officers now but, the other part of him knew that if he was right about you, they wouldn’t be your superiors for long. He knew that the Force gave you to him for a reason.

“That anger you feel, I felt it when I first came into the ranks, too.” He said in a hushed tone. “If you play your cards right, they’ll be bowing to you in no time.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up at his words. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or fear of the idea. How could you know? After spending your entire life in one spot, you didn’t know what you wanted besides the obvious.

“I’m not sure I want them to bow, just have some respect for me.” You sigh and step onto the wide platform of the transport ship.

“You might not think that now, y/n...” His masked face was mere inches from yours as he spoke. “...once you get a taste for this life and the power that come with it, you’ll never have enough.”

You wanted to deny it and tell him that power wasn’t something you wanted. And this was partially true, power isn’t something you craved but a small part of you recognized that you couldn’t dismiss the notion entirely. Was he pushing you down a path you didn’t want for yourself? You’ve spent your life waiting for your prince charming to come and sweep you off your feet and take you away from Bracca. It was going to take a lot more for you to run away from him now. 

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 1)

@lilyharvord hope you like it!

Masterlist

Words: 2391

It’s a universally recognized truth that a bachelor in possessing of a large fortune should need a wife. However little you may know about the feelings or points of view of such a man on his first appearance in the neighborhood, this truth is so firmly fixed in the minds of the district’s families that he was considered the legitimate property of one or the other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Barrow,” his lady told him one day, “did you know that finally the Hall of the Sun has been rented?” 

Mr. Barrow replied no and although his lack of interest was evident, his wife continued with her speech anyway, until, impatient at the absence of an answer, she asked him if he wasn’t interested in knowing who possessed enough fortune to be able to afford it. 

"You want to tell me, and I have nothing against listening,” he replied, enigmatic as always. He had always been a bizarre man, but the war accident that forced him into a wheelchair had somehow accentuated his wit and sarcasm, and despite twenty-three years had passed, his wife, a woman with a simple mind, of low intelligence and even less culture, still struggled to understand him, but somehow it seemed enough for the man, and he loved her dearly. 

“Well, my dear,” she continued, “you must know that Mrs. Long says the Hall of the Sun was rented by a young man who arrived Monday to see the place, and was so delighted that he will send his servants toward the end of the week.”

"And what’s his name, may I ask?” 

“Samos,” replied the woman, innocently. Mr. Barrow knew that name well, as it was that of the family who owned the largest mines in the kingdom, but he didn’t know if their son was a bachelor or not, an answer that soon came from his wife.

“Oh! Bachelor, my dear, you can be sure! What a beautiful thing for our girls! ”

“Why on earth? What do they have to do with it?” he asked, even though he had already guessed his wife’s plan to marry him to one of their daughters. What his spouse didn’t take into consideration was that this might not be the primary interest of the young heir to an industry that seemed to be making him richer and richer: after all, they weren’t a rich nor noble family, and all they had was earned from their work in the textile industry and his and his three sons’ military career.

“Since he’s young, it’s very likely that he can fall in love with one of our girls, and so you must visit him as soon as he arrives,” replied his wife, as if she had not understood that the flow of his thoughts had gone far beyond. 

“I see no reason to do that. You and the girls can go without me, or you can send them alone, which maybe will be better, since you’re as beautiful as they are and Mr. Samos could consider you the best of the bunch.” 

"My dear, you flatter me. Sure, I had my share of beauty, but now I don’t claim to be anything extraordinary, but don’t try to distract me: you really must go.”

 "It’s more than I can commit to doing, I assure you.”

“But think of your daughters. Just think of what arrangement it would be for one of them. The Skonos are determined to go just for this reason, and you know that they generally don’t visit newcomers. You have to go, because if you don’t, it would be impossible for us to visit him.” 

"Surely you have too many scruples: I really think that Mr. Samos will be delighted to meet you, and I’ll send through you my cordial consent to his marriage to whichever girl he prefers, although I’ll have to put in a good word for my little Mare.” 

"Do me the pleasure of not doing such a thing. Mare is nothing better than Gisa and I’m sure she isn’t half as beautiful or half as jovial as her, but you always prefer her over your other daughter.” 

"That’s because I have to balance your obvious preference for Gisa,” the man replied, and not knowing how to win that argument, Mrs. Barrow appealed to her most famous excuse, her feeble nerves.

“Ah, you don’t know how much I suffer.” 

“But I hope you will be able to heal, and live to see many young men with four thousand a year arrive in the neighborhood. ” 

“It wouldn’t do any good even if twenty came, seen that you are not going to visit them,” she replied, angrily. 

“Count on it, my dear, that when they will be twenty, I’ll go and visit every one!” he exclaimed, and walked away, leaving her to wonder if he would go or not, an answer she received the next week, during a conversation that occupied the whole family, in which her husband threw a few clues about his secret visit to Mr. Samos that morning. 

 “I’m tired of Mr. Samos!” exclaimed his wife, after a while.

“I’m sorry, but why didn’t you tell me before? If I had at least known it this morning, I certainly wouldn’t have gone to visit him. It’s really unfortunate, but since I did indeed visited him, now we can no longer avoid him,” he replied, although it really was exactly what he would’ve wanted; even if he was handsome, with an elegant appearance and formal manners, everything in him seemed forced and his expression wasn’t very nice. Even Shade, his third son, who had accompanied him in his visit, didn’t liked him that much, and it was a very strange event, given his character. Anyway, the two had decided not to spoil the enthusiasm of the women and not to instill in them any bad judgment, so, thanks to the general excitement, they retired ahead of time, followed by Bree, who had no interest in dances and social events of that kind, and which would shortly be called back to serve in the army. 

"What an excellent father you have!” exclaimed Mrs. Barrow, as soon as she was left alone with Tramy, her favorite son, and the two youngest. 

“I don’t know how you can ever repay his kindness; or mine too, for that matter. At our age, I tell you, it’s not so pleasant to make new acquaintances every day; but for your sake we would do anything. Gisa, my darling, even if you are the youngest, I really believe that Mr. Samos will be your knight at the next ball.”

Mare was used to that kind of preference, and she spent the rest of the evening speculating about when Mr. Samos would return Mr. Barrow’s visit, and deciding when they should’ve invited him to lunch. The visit was returned within a few days, but although Mr. Samos had hoped of being admitted to the presence of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard a lot, he saw only their father. The ladies were a little luckier, as they had the advantage of ascertaining, from a window upstairs, that he was wearing a black jacket and was riding a wonderful thoroughbred stallion. Immediately afterwards an invitation to dinner was sent, and Mrs. Barrow had already planned the dishes that would do her honor when a postponing reply arrived: Mr. Samos was forced to be in town the following day, and consequently was unable to accept the honor of their invitation. Mrs. Barrow was utterly shocked: she couldn’t imagine what he could do so shortly after his arrival that requested his presence at Archeon and she began to fear that he might pass quickly from one place to the other without ever stopping at the Hall of the Sun for the time due. Lady Skonos calmed her fears a little by saying that perhaps he had gone to the capital only to gather a large party for the ball, and soon afterwards news came that Mr. Samos would take twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the party. The girls worried about the number of ladies, but the day before the dance they consoled themselves by learning that, instead of twelve, he would take only six with him, the sister, a dear friend and four cousins, but when the party arrived, he made his entry into the ballroom with just four people, being them his sister, a beautiful woman with an undeniable elegance, this mysterious friend, a noble lady with the appearance of a princess, a cousin and another young man., General Calore, who immediately attracted the attention of the room for his tall and refined figure, his beautiful features and his noble bearing : the gentlemen thought him a refined-looking man, the ladies proclaimed that he was far more attractive than Mr. Samos, and he was object of great admiration for about half of the evening, up when his manner aroused a disapproval that reversed the course of his popularity; it turned out that he was proud, that he thought himself above the company and did nothing to make himself pleasant, and not even his vast estate in Harbor Bay could save him from having a hostile and unpleasant face, not to be worthy of comparison with the other guest, who had immediately made acquaintance with more people and was lively and expansive, danced every round and regretted it was over so soon. These amiable qualities spoke for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! General Calore, on his part, danced once with Miss Samos and once with Lady Haven, refused to be introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening wandering around the room, occasionally talking to someone from his group. He was the most haughty man in the world and everyone hoped he would never show up again, more than anyone else Mrs. Barrow, whose disapproval of his behavior was sharpened by a particular resentment, given he had snubbed one of her daughters: Mare Barrow had been forced by the shortage of men to remain seated for two rounds of dance, and during one of these moments, General Calore found himself standing close enough to allow her to hear unseen a conversation between him and Mr. Samos, who had stopped dancing for a few minutes and approached his friend to persuade him to join him. 

"Come on, Cal,” he said, “I have to make you dance. I hate seeing you standing there alone in such a stupid way. ” 

“I won’t do it for sure. You know how much I hate it, unless I know my lady well. In a place like this it would be unbearable. Your sisters are busy, and in the hall there’s no other woman with whom for me to dance with wouldn’t be one punishment.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be as picky as you are,” exclaimed Mr. Samos, “for all the gold in the world!” 

“You’re dancing with the only attractive girl in the room,” said General Calore, looking at Lady Skonos, “at the moment the least of your interests is gold, be it in your coffers or in the rest of the world! “ 

"There’s a friend of hers sitting right behind you: let me ask my lady to introduce you. ” 

“Who are you talking about?” asked General Calore, and turning, he looked for a moment at Mare, until, having met her gaze, he averted his and said coldly she was passable, but not pretty enough to tempt him. 

“I’m not in the mood to take care of young ladies neglected by other men, so you better go back to your lady and enjoy her smiles, because with me, you’re wasting your time.” 

Mr. Samos followed his advice, and General Calore walked away, leaving Mare with far from cordial feelings towards him. However, she told the story to her friends with great wit since she enjoyed seeing the comic side in everything and didn’t wanted to completely ruin a evening that passed pleasantly for the whole family: Gisa had been greatly admired by Lady Elane Haven and she had danced twice with Mr. Samos’ cousin, which made her as happy as her mother, albeit in a quieter way, and Mare shared the sentiment too; Tramy had never been without a lady, and that was all he cared about in a dance, and when they all returned in good spirits to the village where they lived, they found Bree and Shade still up, both very curious about the events of an evening that had raised such amazing expectations. Somehow, Shade had hoped that his sisters’ expectations on the stranger and his retinue were disappointed, but soon he found he had to hear an entirely different story, at least from Gisa’s side. 

“It was an absolutely delightful evening,” she was already telling, as soon as she had crossed the threshold of the house, “a magnificent dance. I wish you had been there too.” 

“Gisa was so admired that she couldn’t have been more,” explained their mother. “All they talked about was how beautiful her dress was, and Miss Samos’s friend said she would be honored to introduce her to her brother! Also, Mr. Samos’ cousin danced twice with her, just thinking about it makes me shiver with joy; she was the only one in the room that he asked for a second dance! Mr. Samos, on the other hand, invited Miss Skonos and although I was annoyed at first, I must say that I am relieved that a much older man doesn’t think at our youngest in that way. Oh! My dear!“ Mrs. Barrow went on, "I am really thrilled with his family! His sister is so beautiful and charming, I have never in my life seen anything more elegant than her dress. I really think the lace…” 

But before she could start rambling about clothing, Mare interrupted her to inform her brothers about the General rudeness. 

“But I can assure you,” added Mrs. Barrow, “that Mare hasn’t lost much for not having tickled his fancy, since he’s the most unpleasant man that exists, absolutely unworthy and unbearable. I wish your father had been there, he would’ve made him regret such an attitude bitterly! ”

[spacemilkies]

gateau→  ; part i of iii

pairing: cal kestis x reader

word count: 2.5k+

summary: “So you had a Jedi as a roommate … that wont be a problem in the future or anything.”

a/n:  a bunch of new things to get me writing. all written at some ungoldly hour. this will probably be a three part series. something short and simple, based off the prologue with some background. hey, no song fic for once. i spent all day in this fandom. i feel ready. put me in coach.

                                                                    _______

“C’mon just this once, please.”

“Oh ho, no no. This is definitely not the first time.”

There was never a good reason for your roommate to visit you on the job. Not only were you stationed on opposite side of the station, you differing positions also lessened the opportunity for you to meet up without explicit reason. 

He was a rigger and you were a builder, simple as that. 

You refrained from lifting your mask, maintaining a sense of distance from the conversation as you continued to weld the two pieces of metal together. Maybe if you did your job hard enough he would eventually give up out of respect of your workload….

Who were you kidding.

A fiery shock of red hair crouched down next to you, apparently uncaring for the wayward sparks emitting from your torch. It was only when he dared to lean closer that you reluctantly cut the power out of concern for basic occupational safety. 

Flipping the hood of your mask, you gave him your sharpest glare to which he combatted easily with a killer smile. If only it was as effective on his conquests as he seemed to think the same applies to you. 

“You’re all just going to melt it down any.”

Any metals and ores that made it up here were better than the average scraps found in the lower sectors and certainly worth a pretty sum of credits. It was your roommate's favorite way to exploit your job and threaten your only means of survival in the same breath. 

 Darting your gaze around, you found that for once your colleges were rather forgiving of personal space. Though it didn’t mean that your supervisors wouldn’t have watchful eyes on your every move. Hence why these daring favors tended to have more impact than meaningless valve. 

You weren’t agreeing. Definitely were not going to get drawn into to those pleading baby blues. You were just curious. 

“And what exactly do two upstanding individuals as yourselves need with my fine metals?”

Cal’s smirk was shallow but no where lacking in its killer properties,” I’d bend your fine metals anyway.”

With a huff, you nudged him away with your shoulder. Practice allowing you to ignore the faint flush it brought to your cheeks. 

“You’re wasting time, Cal.”

“Just something nice. I’ll pay you back.”

You were not going to fall for it Totally, explicitly would not lose resolve on your promise to not give in like last time. You were strong and resilient and Cal was a big boy with his own means of survival and-

“I swear to all above, Cal if you-”

The force of his lips against your cheek nearly knocked you over and you were left momentarily stunned as nimble fingers searched knowingly against your body. Before you knew it, he was drawing away, your access card in hand. 

You should be happy with how quickly he scrambled to his feet, prepared for a hasty departure. It wouldn’t be long before your superiors began making their rounds and the last thing they wanted to see was a scrapper hunting around their stores. 

Gesturing with two fingers against his temple, Cal waved off before he disappeared around the corner. 

“Why are you not working? Your pay is based on your progress, not your time.”

Swallowing down a retort, you merely smiled shallowly in response to the haughty order as you tugged back down your face mask, Cal’s phantom touch still lingering against your form.

“Of course, sir.”

                                                                    _______

It should be said that Cal wasn’t a terrible roommate. In fact, when he first responded to your advertisement you had a feeling that he would actually be a helpful one.

That was a lie.

You knew that he would be a cute one. Someone that you would have to try /really hard to keep your hands off of. Fortunately for you, at the beginning he felt more like a brother than a bachelor. His boyish habits cutting into some of his charm.

It didn’t take much longer than that before the two of you fell into a rhythm of sorts. 

Having another human around was kind of nice too. 

Not to say you preached xenophobia. Some of your closer friends on this desolate planet were part of varying species. But in a way it aided in building a familiar quality of home even as you reside on the opposite side of the galaxy. 

Cal was moderately fair roommate. He wasn’t spotty with rent and you split the amenities, as scarce as they were, fairly. He was a little messy but not in the obnoxious unhygienic way. 

Everything was balanced. 

And you couldn’t really complain. 

He was a great guy. His humor and antics proving to raise your mood after a long day. Just the way he spoke about his own day bringing tears to your eyes and curling your stomach with laughter. 

You were a capable engineer, even though your talents were wasted on rebuilding the same schematics over and over again. At home, you are able to hone your own skills. Working on various knick knacks and gadgets. It was nice to have a second opinion as well. 

The two of you had spent many nights huddled around the living room surrounded by scattered parts and various prototypes. Only to have to separate the more advanced ones in fear of being caught. 

It was nice. 

                                                                    _______

“Damn, I didn’t think the boss would ever let you off.”

With less finesse and not a care in the world, you dropped haggeded into the seat offered by your friends. After another long week it was nice to finally load off with a few drinks and company chatter. 

For some reason the quota skyrocketed in the past few weeks. The recycling of old metal into new vessels becoming an unrelenting force on your crew. 

It turned out to be one of the worst moments to find yourself promoted. 

To think just three weeks ago you were throwing around drinks in celebration and now you were ready to drown out the accomplishment with whatever was on tap. 

“Apparently they’re bringing in a huge freighter soon,” you called out solemnly. Your supervisor had shown you the schematics of the parts that would be salvaged and what they wanted to accomplish with its predecessor. 

After another long shift all you could really make out was work and more work. 

But at least the same would be said for the riggers. 

To your right Reif, a Rodian, spoke crudely over a mouthful of food,” Yeah, been hearing about that one for sometime now. Suppose to be a Separist ship. Going to be quite the project.”

Slouching idly in your seat, you played lazily with the handle of the mug offered to you. Just another long project to keep you stranded on this planet. Not to say you had any plans otherwise. 

If anything you should really thank them for giving you something to focus on. 

Garnering everyone’s attention with a slam of her glass against the table, Enisa a pretty pale blue Rylothian, slurs loudly,” Enough of all this work talk. Let’s focus on something else.”

Then she’s sliding sharply into you, leaving you to fumble with your own glass,” Like your roommate. Why didn’t you tell me he was available.”

Because you weren’t in the market providing companions?

Your furrowed burrow must have voiced your thoughts because she was rolling her eyes without your verbal response. 

“Oh don’t play dumb. You’re harboring one of the few attractive souls on this god forsaken planet. And you’re not even bumping uglies with him, what a shame.”

You were stuck between defending your own choices and wondering when she learned such a human phrase. It was hardly worth the effort of explaining how the two of you just weren't like that. Your inventory of excuses were running dry.

“Stop making it awkward for her, she has to live with the guy.”

Catching Reif’s gaze over the rim of your glass, you give him a thankful nod. The rest of your group takes the initiative to fill the silence and progresses the conversation further into the night. Unlike most outings, neither of you are able to keep up with one another past a few extra hours. The weight of the day taking more out of you as it came to a close. 

You’re not the only one grateful when Reif brings the outing to a close. 

There is just enough alcohol in your system to make you stumble through the threshold of your home, groaning quietly as you try to stabilize yourself. More likely than not Cal was already asleep and you didn’t want to disrupt that. 

Now with the evening settling into your bones, there wasn't a part of your body that didn't ache and the incoming headache didn't make any part of it better. 

Right now the couch was looking a lot more inviting than it should be. You’d deal with the consequences it would leave on your body in the morning. 

Rounding the edge, you collapsed back into the cushions.

“What the hell?”

“Shit, Cal! What the fuck?”

A sharp hiss escapes him when your elbow jabs unkindly into the softness of his side. Before you could try to remedy it, his hand is gripping your upper arm and settling you more safely in the available space rather than on top of him. 

For a moment it's just your mixed breaths as you come down from the unexpected surprise. With more care, you twist more comfortably mindful of your limbs this time. 

It's hardly necessary but you whisper anyway. 

“Why are you here?”

You feel his arm wiggling behind your head and you raise your neck obediently to allow it to rest beneath you. As a reward, the same hand curls inward to comb through your hair lazily. He works his fingers across your nape and back up to your scalp finding just the right spot and drew small circles. 

“Dunno, just came home and ended up here. Kind of like you but less dramatically.”

You snort, “Sorry, wasn’t expecting a party of two.”

He hums to himself, the pad of his thumb pressing inward in a way the manages to reset your whole mindframe and you nearly white out from the release. 

There is more that could be said but the words escape you both as you settle for the night. If you weren't already going to regret this before, you were definitely were going to more now for an entirely different reason. But there was no chance of you altering the flow of what it was now. 

You would just have to lay there and try not to think too hard about the natural slot of your body to Lance’s despite the finite space. It was much easier to count the staccato of his dull thumping heartbeat as it lulled you off to sleep. 

                                                                     _______

“Goddammit, Meeka. You’re going to wake up your mom.”

Too late. 

Though in the defense of your mischievous loth-cat, the warm smell of breakfast permeating from the kitchen was just one waft away from rousing you. Stretching out your arms, you used the length of them to hook around the back of the couch to drag you up. 

Questionably burnt but you recognize the scent of some of your favorites.You has not caught a glimpse of what he was wearing last night but Cal appears to be wearing some fresh clothes. The way the collar of his shirt is damp in the back hints towards a shower. 

Part of you wonders if breakfast is a preemptive apology towards a cold shower you would be expecting later. 

“Where do you have to go so early?”

If you startle him, he doesn't show. He slides a bit of food onto a plate, giving Meeka more than gracious portion before bringing the plate to you. You take it gratefully, balancing it on the spine of the couch.

Alert to your presence and no doubt ready to beg for more scraps, you watch unimpressed as the feline-like creature slinks against you. She gets what's expected anyway as you part with a strip of meat.

Leaning against the counter within view, Cal scolds you playfully. “And you said I spoil her.”

“You start it,” you retort without any bite.

You blame the queasiness on residue alcohol when he laughs warmly. 

“Oh. “ You look up and Cal has a fork pointed at you. ‘’Your access card is on the table there.”

You’d already forgotten about that.

“Get anything good?” Safely, is weighted on your tongue but it seems like a waste to add it. Cal has always been mindful of his self, actions and footsteps in a way that makes you wonder how long he’s been watching his own back. 

In the few years you’ve known him, things like the past rarely came up. No one really came to Bracca chasing a future. It was just a means to an end until you could find something better if you could manage to get out. 

You hard already stopped trying when Cal stumbled into your life. But now it hardly seemed like a bad thing. 

The clank of dishes brings you out of your thoughts. His back is to you now as he cleans his mess.

“It will be a nice personal pay raise, that’s for sure. Prauf sends his thanks too.”

Cal surprises you again when he comes to collect your empty plate. Rather than comment it on it, you lounge comfortably in the domesticity of it all. 

“What’s your plan for the day?”

That was a good question. 

Your body had an obvious vote towards rest but responsibilities made a greater bid on your time. A bit of shopping would unfortunately be necessary but your savings would have to survive. Between the recent raise and this upcoming project, you should survive to hit. 

Replenish resources it would be then. At least if you start early enough it would allow you to relax for the remainder of the day. 

Cal’s gaze follows as you stretch and eventually slink off the couch. Meeka happy to have the entire furniture to herself doesn’t waste a moment to snuggle into your lingering warmth. 

“Down to the Bazaar first, then after that we’ll see.”

But first to see how much hot water you were going to be working with. Yawning loudly, you get to work with untangling the mess of your hair. Just before you can round the corner, Cal calls out to you.

“Want to make it a date?”

It’s an innocent play of words. One’s he’s used in the past without acting on it. 

‘And you’re not even bumping uglies with him, what a shame.’

And just when you finally stopped overthinking it.

Peeking over your shoulder, you found Cal waiting expectantly yet so unaware of the winds of the storm picking up in your mind. Was it even worth it to wonder if similar thoughts ever troubled him?

-nah, it was just easier to smile.

“Yeah, it’s a date.”