#and then the leader mask sliding over his face in the second panel it's how he's going to go on

[hekateinhell]

I love, love that tiny little passage that has Nicolas and Armand together in Lestat's old dressing room as the last time Lestat ever sees Nicki (and Armand until the events of IWTV):

I'd found him [Armand] earlier closeted in my old dressing room with Nicolas in the midst of a strange conversation dominated by Nicki's sarcasm and peculiar fire. He wore a wig and a somber red frock coat, and it seemed to me that he had already acquired a new opacity, as if every waking moment since the death of the old coven was giving him greater substance and strength. ~ Lestat, TVL

@eosphoroz requested Armand wearing a wig as was mentioned in TVL, so here's him being very fashionable in the 1700s!

I've seen so much history of the Habsburgs ect. but I know nothing about the finer details of Baroque era fashion. Armand is confused too. Somebody teach him!

[ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog]

The Crows

Modern au i wrote that i may or may not add more to later

Inej works at a cafe (she didn't always but she did now)

Jesper used to work in a casino but now he only gambles there

Kaz works for himself

And who knows how much trouble they still manage to get themselves into?

Snippet:

“Inej?” said Jesper, leaning against the elevator doors. “You good up there?”

The doors squeaked open, and Jesper tipped over onto the floor.

“I’m fine, Jesper. Thank you,” she shot Kaz a look, “for asking.”

“This,” said Inej, “is a bad idea. What sort of-”

“Idiot,” said Jesper into the pause. "Idiot works great here."

“Thank you, Jesper.” she turned back to Kaz. “What sort of idiot makes a plan so profoundly stupid that we all end up stuck in an elevator at two in the morning?”

“Only one made on the-

Inej cut him off. “-on the streets. Yes, Kaz, we know. We grew up on the streets too, and you don’t see us-”

Kaz’s lips twitched. “Stuck in an elevator? Funny, I could swear you said you were stuck in one only a moment ago.”

“You’re stuck,” said Inej. She pulled herself up the wall of the elevator and pushed one of the ceiling panels away. “I’m not.”

Jesper sighed. “She works in a cafe, where did she learn to climb like that?”

“It’s a temporary job,” Inej called down the shaft. “It’s not my favorite line of work, and it's not the only one I've done.”

Jesper raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to work in a place where all you do is walk around and give people things either. Sounds boring.”

“First of all, Jesper, that is not my reason. Second of all, I think if you ever actually tried being a waiter, you’d find it a lot harder-”

“Quiet. Someone’s coming.” Kaz turned to the door, holding his cane.

“How can he hear that? We’re stuck in an elevator, and he can-”

“Quiet, Jesper,” said Inej and Kaz at the same time.

“Fine. But only for a bit.”

No one spoke for five minutes, and Inej was too good at silence for either Kaz or Jesper to tell if she was still climbing the elevator shaft.

“Inej?” said Jesper, leaning against the elevator doors. “You good up there?”

The doors squeaked open, and Jesper tipped over onto the floor.

“I’m fine, Jesper. Thank you,” she shot Kaz a look, “for asking.”

“Come on, Jesper. We don’t have all night.”

“Of course not.” Jesper pushed himself to his feet. “And a special thank you for everyone who asked about my well-being. I only fell a few feet onto the floor. Not to worry.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Jesper,” called Inej, turning to face him from the other end of the hallway. “If you had been hurt, we would have been worried. You’re just being dramatic.”

Kaz sighed through his nose. “Hurry.”

Jesper ignored him. “I quite like being dramatic, thank you.”

“So does Kaz, but at least he’s not slowing us down.”

Jesper gasped in horror. “He just got us stuck in an elevator, and I’m the one slowing you down?”

“At the moment, Jesper, the answer is yes. If you walk any faster, that might change.”

“Shut up, Kaz. You’re the reason we got stuck in an elevator in the first place.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Both of you, quiet. There’s someone around the corner. Silent feet don’t do me any good when you two are making such a racket.”

Jesper opened his mouth to respond, but Kaz cut him off with a look before he could.

A moment later, Kaz and Jesper turned the corner to find Inej sliding an unconscious guard’s body against the wall. She didn’t glance back at them as she spoke. “We’ll have to hurry. There’s no place to put him, and out in the open, someone will find him soon.”

Kaz shook his head. “What did I tell you? Both of you,” he added once he saw Jesper jokingly imitating his head-shaking. “Walk faster.”

Something clattered to the floor behind them, the trio turning as the object echoed. It was the guard’s spare set of keys; they had fallen from his pocket to the floor.

Kaz turned to Jesper and Inej. “Hurry faster.”

They hurried faster.

----

Twenty minutes later, Inej was carefully lifting a large section of window away from the rest. Jesper was out standing guard, and Kaz was in the main office, flipping through files and ledgers.

Another moment and the glass was on the floor underneath the window, hidden from the view of anyone getting inside.

The sound of Kaz’s cane as he walked, and Kaz himself appeared around the corner. “Positions, everyone. They’re on their way.”

Inej, using the cracked brick of the walls as footholds, pulled herself up to the ceiling and held herself there while Jesper - who had been right behind Kaz - hid in the next room. He was followed by Kaz, who gave her a single, solemn nod before shutting the door and using a magnet to slide the lock shut from inside. It wasn’t a complicated lock - or a complicated trick - but it would be enough to fool anyone else.

A moment of quiet breathing, and the sounds of a small group of people climbing the rooftops feet away grew in volume.

“Hey, look,” one of them said. “They were really so stupid as to leave their way in open.”

Another one laughed. “Makes it easier for us, so I’m not complaining.”

Inej smiled as they climbed in. So far, so good. But she still needed them further inside.

“What’s this?” said a third, staring at the floor. He looked up as his companion stepped through the window after him. “Wait, hold on-”

But it was too late. The glass shattered on the floor, scattering in all directions like they had kicked it in.

She glanced at the window itself, eyes passing over the jagged edges that would complete the illusion of them shattering the glass. She had to admire Kaz’s plan, even if it had gotten them stuck in an elevator earlier. Tricking their rival crew into walking into a trap like it was their salvation made for an interesting night.

The crew muttered and complained quietly, but they moved on. They had all worn sturdy boots and thick gloves - one for the climb, one for the cold - so they hadn’t cut themselves. That was fine. She didn’t need them to.

They walked past her, trying the door to the room Kaz and Jesper were in once before they discovered it locked. “They could be hiding in there,” said one.

The others laughed. One said, “Of course, of course. Dirtyhands locked himself in a room to hide? He’s smart, not an idiot.”

Her smile, which had faded, returned grimly. Kaz Brekker was no idiot; he just knew when other people were.

She dropped down behind them. None of them turned as she did. Silently - quickly - she slipped into a corridor they had passed a moment before and raced through it. She needed to get to the office before they did to make sure the trap was set properly. While she monitored them, Kaz and Jesper would be slipping into the auxiliary office - also known as the records department - and stealing the goods they were here for before climbing out the window to meet her at the rendezvous point.

But first, she needed to spring the trap.

The walls blurred around her as she sprinted past them. She reached an intersection and pushed off the floor, foot landing on the wall and pushing again to keep her momentum going. The office wasn’t far, but she needed to get there enough in advance to climb to the ceiling.

The office door loomed in front of her and she sped in, slowing enough to turn and climb the wall above the door. The office had been designed extravagantly, with tall ceilings accenting the lavish furniture. She thought it looked lovely, but in the end it was a waste. That wealth could be going to better places than to double-cushion one man’s chair.

She reached the ceiling just as the rival crew walked in. She could tell they were trying to mask their footsteps, but they were doing a poor job of it. A poorer job at it than her, anyway.

Don’t get full of yourself, Inej. Arrogance is as good as a death sentence.

If she wanted to make it out of here in one piece, she’d need to listen to that voice. For weeks they had been pitted against this same crew. Job after job they’d ended up chasing after them, watching as they grew to be known the “Better of the Crows.” It didn’t win them fame, necessarily. But it won them respect, and cost her, Jesper, and Kaz, some as well.

So Kaz had hatched this plan. He’d designed a trap within a job they’d been offered hours before, intending to teach their rival crew a lesson. So here they were - here she was - waiting from the shadows.

The crew reached the far side of the room, coming close to where the desk was located. She held her breath, praying the - literal - trap would work as planned.

It did. The crew huddled around the desk, watching as one of them - their leader - pulled open the largest drawer. As he did, a loud snap echoed throughout the room as the pulley system built on the ceiling activated, throwing a weighted net over them.

While they struggled with that, Inej took a deep breath and held it, dropping a small canister onto the floor below here. The room filled with smoke, and her arms shook as she dropped to the floor. She grabbed the robe at her waist and used one of her knives to cut it into pieces large enough to tie them up with.

Still holding her breath, she bound their hands and feet together tightly, tying one rope around the lot of them to make it harder for them to move.

The smoke finished dissipating just as she finished, and she ducked out the door - setting a small piece of paper on the desk as she did - while they were still coughing the smoke from their lungs. She hoped they had been too busy for them to have gotten a good look at her.

She ran through the halls once again, using the walls to keep her momentum going around corners. Kaz and Jesper should be done by now. They were supposed to have finished grabbing what they needed ten minutes earlier, but that meant they would still be on their way to the rendezvous point.

She slid on the floor at the sharp sound of gunfire, turned her nose at the scent of smoke in the air. She glanced behind her, then up, but no one was there. No bullet hole, either.

That meant Kaz and Jesper had gotten themselves into trouble of their own.

Saints, she thought. What would it take for one plan to go right?

She turned the next corner slowly, drawing two knives as she did. Standing in back to her at the far end of the corridor was an unfamiliar form - dressed in black - holding a gun. On the other side of them was Jesper and Kaz, with their weapons drawn too.

Kaz was frowning; she knew it was because of the gunshot. She was sure he had been expecting something to go wrong, but the idea was to be as discreet as possible. That, and no witnesses. They’d already failed at achieving two of those goals tonight.

She stepped forward to deal with the person, but a voice from behind said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, girl. Not unless you feel like getting rid of your head.”

She turned slowly and found another unfamiliar face staring back at her, a gun pointed at her head. She looked to Kaz, finding him already staring at her. He nodded, just once, and she moved at the same time Jesper did.

She ducked and reached up with her arm, aiming the gun at the ceiling before hitting the person hard enough to knock them out. She turned to find the other unfamiliar face unconscious as well, Jesper standing over him and grinning like a fool.

He caught her watching him, gave her a wink, and turned back to Kaz. “I like them much better when they’re unconscious.”

Kaz stared at them for a moment. “I share the sentiment, but you know what we have to do.”

Jesper nodded grimly. “No witnesses, else the entire plan fails.”

Inej pressed her lips into a line, but she nodded. She had her reasons for being here, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy everything about the jobs.

They dragged the bodies over to the window, doing their best to make it look like they had encountered the other crew when they had “broken in.” When Kaz - who had been standing off to the side while Jesper and Inej dragged the bodies - was satisfied with the arrangement, he raised his eyebrows and gestured at the window.

“Why can’t he speak like a normal person? There’s no need for it, so why does he do it?”

“He says he does everything only as he needs to,” muttered Inej, loud enough for Kaz to hear. “But really he loves the dramatic flare as much as you, Jesper.”

“I do not,” said Kaz.

Jesper grinned. “There goes Dirtyhands, lying again.”

They reached the edge of the rooftop terrace outside the window, and they looked at each other in farewell before heading their own ways.

"No mourners," said Inej.

"No Funerals."

----

The next morning, notorious gambler Jesper Fahey and mysterious businessman Kaz Brekker met for coffee at a quiet cafe on the outskirts of the city. They paid a little extra to let Inej Ghafa’s boss allow her to have a cup with them while they read the paper.

“Failed break-in,” read Kaz. “Two dead, thieves responsible were caught but claim innocence.”

“Did they wonder why two random people were on the scene?” asked Inej.

Kaz looked at her. “Random people?”

“The two- Kaz Brekker, I will steal Jesper’s guns and shoot you in the face. They were guards?”

“Off-duty, but yes. There was a plausible reason for them to have been on the scene.”

Jesper grinned. “Brilliant. Now read the next one. The second one is always the best.”

“Criminal pests finally caught. Torment of city over.”

They looked at each other, and even Kaz couldn’t help a quick grin.

“What do you think,” said Jesper. “Is this city’s torment over yet?”

Inej thought of her family, desperate to escape a war that had taken over their home across the sea. Thought of the cost of the travel, of the wealth held by so few who used it for nothing but their own gain.

No. This city’s torment wasn’t over just yet.

[sserpente]

A/N: May the Forth be with you, my lovelies! Kylo isn’t exactly nice in this one and I have no idea why it got so dark. Definitely no fluff. Well. Dark side and cookies and stuff. 🍪 Requests from @mitsuhkai (I changed it up just a tiny little bit so it made sense for the story) and two anons.

Words: 3989 Warnings: violence, abuse (somewhat) and lack of aftercare, smut, angst

“Can I get you anything? Some water? Food?”

You shook your head mutely, hugging yourself in an attempt to stay warm. It was the adrenaline in your veins that was slowly wearing off. You wanted nothing. Nothing but to go home—you did not want to be in the middle of a war.

“I’ll go get you a blanket.” His name was Poe Dameron. He was nice—considerate. He had been among the group that had saved you before the planet evaporated, turned into a pile of dust floating in the galaxy. You had known it would happen sooner or later. Living in this place had been worse than trading garbage on Jakku. Now, at long last, someone had taken revenge. You only wished it could have happened without countless innocent lives being taken. You had been lucky to survive and now you wanted nothing more than to find your way back to your own home planet.

“So… who are they?” You asked with a quiet and exhausted voice when Poe returned, wrapping a dark red wool blanket around you. “The people who blew up the planet?”

“You really don’t know?”

You shook your head.

“They call themselves the First Order. They are a radical group aiming to bring the entire galaxy under their control. Their leader is called Kylo Ren, he is… was Leia’s son.”

Your lips parted. You had met Leia earlier. You could hardly believe she was fighting her own flesh and blood.

“How… how would they accomplish that? Rule everything? That is impossible.” And ridiculous, you added mutely. This entire war was ridiculous. You wanted to go home so bad it physically ached.

“He is looking for force-sensitives. The more of them he succeeds in pulling to the dark side, the more dangerous the First Order gets for us. We are looking for them too, we’re bringing them to Leia before he can find them.”

“When can I go home?”

Poe smiled weakly. “Soon. We needed a device that is called a wayfinder. It will take you and the other survivors straight to your home planet.” It was lightyears away—in a world where Kylo Ren, the First Order and the Resistance did not exist. A world where the Force was but a peaceful companion to those who wielded it. Nothing was just black and white but at least, no one had started a war over control and power.

“Poe! They’re here.” It was a young woman, a redhead with blue eyes. Undoubtedly another member of the Resistance. A blaster was dangling from her brown belt. She was carrying a tiny black box.

“What?!” The pilot jumped up from his seat opposite you, alarmed and ready to attack. “How many ships?”

“Just one, Poe. Look at us. There’s only a handful of us left. I don’t think they came to kill us. Leia said they are searching for the wayfinder too.”

The wayfinder you need to get home. Your face fell as it went white, just when the redhead turned to you.

“Will you stay here and watch this?” She said, holding up the box. “We can barricade the doors to give you as much protection as possible.”

With an eager nod, you took it, the blanket sliding from your shoulders and to the ground. If necessary, you would protect this wayfinder—however it worked—with your life if only it meant you would be home again soon. You should have never left in the first place, looking for adventure. It seemed so absurd to you for now, adventure had found you.

Poe and his friend left, the metal doors sliding shut, locked. If you didn’t know better, it would have felt like being trapped. Nothing prepared you for when the ship you were on was shook by some massive impact and sent its construction shattering to pieces. You screamed when the room began to collapse in on itself, a large chunk of debris burying you underneath it. The box fell from your grasp in but a second, clattering to the ground a few feet away from you.

Panting, you came up for fresh air, coughing when you accidentally inhaled the dust practically steaming up from the broken furniture like moist fog. Your right leg was jammed. You winced when you looked down and attempted to pull yourself free only to draw blood scraping against the sharp end of whatever kept you glued to the ground. It hurt. Overwhelmed by the burning pain, you lied back down, taking a deep breath.

It was then somebody entered whatever was left of this control room full of panels and buttons broken beyond repair now—your breath caught in your throat. A tall figure, male judging by his frame, wearing a black cloak and a terrifying mask scanned the destruction around him with clenched fists. Your eyes widened. A lightsaber was dangling from his black belt. Was this Kylo Ren?

He strutted further into the room, his gaze—entirely hidden by the mask—presumably catching sight of the small box. Your heart skipped a beat, unsure of what was more horrifying. Being alone with a very dangerous man who sought to control the galaxy or the fact he was about to steal from you the only way to return home. He had not noticed you yet. It was likely that to him, you were no more than an unconscious body, a victim of his triumph over the Resistance. Right until your instinct sealed your fate forever.

“No!” You screamed when his gloved fingers reached for the box, stretching your arm out in a desperate attempt to prevent him from bringing it into his possession, willing it to be flung out of his reach—when suddenly, the box bid your will. It practically flew away from him, landing on the ground and slithering across the metal tiles. In shock, you looked down at your shaking hands. What had you done? Was this… had you used the Force?

Kylo Ren’s head turned in your direction so fast your blood ran cold. Breathing heavily, you gaped at his expressionless mask, struggling to break free from your prison of debris. The throbbing pain in your leg was still excruciating and yet you could not even begin with comparing it to the ice cold fear washing over your helpless form on the ground when he stood, tilted his head slightly and marched over to you. You could already feel the heat of his lightsaber singeing your skin, the hot blade slashing through your guts, killing you fast.

A strike which would spell doom for you, however, never came. Instead, when you dared look up at him again, Kylo Ren was offering you his hand. He was using the Force to move the metal from your leg, finally freeing it and providing you instant relief. Carefully, you moved your ankle. It hurt—but nothing appeared to be broken.

“(Y/N)!” The last thing you remembered was falling unconscious, right into somebody’s arms.

-

The room in which you awoke was dark and intimidating. Another ship, you figured. More panels, more metal, this room, however, resembled a medical station. Drowsily, you sat up to find a handful of droids moving back and forth on wheels. Your leg had been bandaged.

“Ah, Miss. You are awake. We will alert the Supreme Leader at once.” You flinched when one of them addressed you, its silver body reflecting the dim light.

“No, wait!” But the droid was already wandering off. Where were you? What was happening? What had happened already? You remembered using the Force. The Force! This was impossible. Another flinch when the metal doors slid open and revealed lights coming from the hallway. You shielded yourself from the sudden brightness—and it was then you discovered the blaster on a shelf next to a white helmet. It must have belonged to one of their soldiers and been deposited here during his treatment. Without any hesitation, you took it. You had been defenceless the first time you had met the First Order. You would not be so again now.

Kylo Ren’s gloved fists were clenched again when he entered the medical station, straight towards you. He had offered you his hand… but for what? Surely, he was hostile! You did not think. All you did was aim at him. Next thing you knew you were already being flung through the air, smashing against the wall. You sank to the ground with a groan. Wherever the blaster had landed, it was now out of your reach.

“What do you want from me?” You screamed at him before you could even see him. Kylo Ren did not utter a word until he was hovering above you like a giant, forcing you to tilt your head back to face his mask. “I’m not with the Resistance!” You continued helplessly. “If that is why you took me you might as well let me go again!”

“Let you go?” He finally spoke a little amused, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice was being modulated behind that mask. You swallowed thickly. “I don’t think so. You are force-sensitive. I am not letting one of the most powerful individuals off of my ship.”

It occurred to you only then. Force-sensitive. If you had truly used the Force and Kylo Ren had seen it, you were done for. The dark side… well, you didn’t even know that the light side was all about!

You snorted indignantly. “Powerful? I… I didn’t even get to pull the trigger before you threw me against the wall, which hurt by the way!”

“You tried to shoot me.” He stated matter-of-factly, bending down further to study your face.

“Well… how would you feel if a man in a mask and that… that lightsaber started at you like a berserker?”

Kylo simply ignored your protest. “I will train you. You will learn to control your powers, and use them.”

Desperately, you shook your head. “No. Please, just let me go home. I don’t want to be part of any of this.” You paused. “What happened to Poe?” He had yelled your name before you passed out, you remembered this much. It had been his voice.

“Poe Dameron, the Resistance pilot? I have no idea. I will not let you go. You need a teacher.”

“I don’t need anything except for that wayfinder.”

Kylo coldly ignored you. “The droids will show you to your new living quarters.” And just like that, he stood again, turned on his heel and left you.

-

The living quarters Kylo Ren had provided you with were impressive, to say the least—or perhaps you were merely used to worse back on your home planet. They were spacious, equipped with a double bed and your own attached washing room. If only you were here by your own free will.

Nearly two months had passed since your arrival on the Finalizer and you had no idea where Kylo had hidden the wayfinder. He was intimidating you for sure but over the last weeks… something had changed.

First off, he had showed you his face. Then, he had showed you emotions.

Focused, you brought your stick—a lame excuse for a weapon, for Ren did not trust you with a real lightsaber just yet—against the Stormtrooper armour before you, swirling around in a lightheaded manner. You were a natural. He would never admit it but he admired the way you fought, watching you in awe, hands clasped behind his back. You made it look like art. Your body was passionate—only your mind was not. He could feel it. You were shielding yourself from the Force even after all of his endeavours and to be truly honest, it was driving him crazy.

“You could be so much stronger. You should have smashed that dummy to pieces by now. You are hardly using any of what I have taught you.” His words stung all the more without the modulation of his mask. You sighed. “You are weak.”

“I am not weak.” You spat, glaring at him with dismay and disappointment. What did he expect? You had never wanted this. The fact you were starting to develop feelings for him did not help. Kylo Ren was not the monster the Resistance had made him out to be—not to you. Besides, he was still here as opposed to them. Were they even trying to find you? Had they given up on you, would they risk for you to become a Sith?

Well, you did not want to become a Sith, or a Jedi. Kylo had forced you into the middle of a war that was not yours to fight. He did not see it. He did not want to see it.

“Yes, you are.”

You growled. “Well, have you ever considered why?! You would have killed me had I refused to become your stupid student!”

Kylo’s eye twitched. He did not object—of course not. It was the truth. The only reason you stayed with him was that you had no one else left. So far away from home, you were alone. Kylo Ren was the only one who took care of you, albeit in his very own way. You should despise him for making you so dependent on him.

Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you dropped the stupid stick and fled out of the room. You knew the ship well by now and as long as you were as far away from him as possible, you would be content with sulking away in a quiet corner where nobody could see you, to take some time wrangling with your own emotions.

What were you even doing here? You should have done anything in your power to flee, steal a ship or an emergency capsule. Instead, you had let him web you into his schemes like a spider its dinner. Why did part of him have to be so… human? So vulnerable even? It made despising him all the harder.

Sobbing quietly, you wiped your tears away. But it was only then you realised that you were not alone anymore. Somebody was watching you. Great. From smoke to smother. It was Hux. The General had a thing for you. At first, you had been certain he only meant to provoke Kylo here and then but there seemed to be more, much more. He was usually there first whenever the two of you fought and you ran from him, almost as if he was downright waiting for you to argue so he could be your shoulder to lean on. At least that felt nice from time to time.

“Did he hurt you?” When you said nothing, Hux pressed his lips together to a thin line. Well yes, all the time. It felt like being in an abusive relationship when in reality, you hadn’t even kissed. Not that you wouldn’t want to. Kylo was a handsome man, you… growling, you stopped your thoughts from escalating.

“You deserve better, (Y/N). Unlike him, I would treat you with respect.” You smiled bitterly. You liked his accent. Everything he said sounded so graceful and yet… Hux would never be more to you than another good-looking and powerful man with a passion for the First Order. “If you truly think that, find me that wayfinder. I want to go home.”

He was taken aback, without a doubt. Blinking, he took a moment to reply.

“You are not leaving this ship, (Y/N).”

You snorted. “Of course not…”

Silence spread between you. Hux was not one for showing a lot of emotion—yet you tensed when his hand came up in a hesitant attempt to touch you and provide comfort.

“Is there a problem, General?” Kylo’s voice, without the helmet this time, buzzed through your ears like the bass of a guitar. You closed your eyes. Here we go—acting like a jealous boyfriend after a dramatic breakup.

Hux gulped. He was afraid of him now that Kylo was the Supreme Leader, ever since he almost choked him to death. You scoffed. His cowardice was one of the reasons you two could never work out. Kylo Ren on the other hand… no, stop.

He spoke up before Hux was out of sight, hurrying away with a murderous expression on his face. “If you ever speak to him again, I will make you regret it.”

“Excuse me? He is the General, what do you expect me to do, ignore him?”

“He has no authority over you. The only one you will take orders from is me.”

“I beg to differ.”

Kylo’s head snapped in your direction so fast you almost flinched. Now you had made him angry. He hated it when you questioned his abilities as a leader.

“What are you doing?” You spat. “You’ve said enough. I’m done.”

“Get back to the training room.”

“No! Did you listen to a word I just said? You just don’t get it, do you? I will never be as determined as you because I don’t care! I don’t care about the Force, I don’t care about this stupid war and I hate you! I bloody hate you!” You did not hate him but you ought to. That was the problem. You were not even in a relationship. The Stormtroopers as well as every other damned employee on this godforsaken ship all shared their theories, of course… but they were all lies, nonsense. So why did it feel like you were breaking up? Was it because he was providing for you when no one else did all the while forbidding you to leave his custody?

“Good! Let your anger out finally! Let it consume you! I know you can feel the Force pulsing through your veins, I can feel it pulsing inside of you!” He hissed, a few drops of his saliva landing on your face.

Screaming bloody murder, you lunged at him, determined to thrash him with the only weapon you had—in this case, your bare fists. You were too caught up in your rage to realise you actually hit him repeatedly until he waved his hand and snatched your wrists to immobilise you, pressing you against the metal column. You grunted in pain as it shot up your spine, pairing with hot desire pulsing through your veins.

You knew the moment his lips came crashing down on yours and your force-sensitivity melted together like molten silver and gold, cracking the pillar he had smashed you against that he had defeated you. His gloved fingers were forcing their way under your skirt, tearing your underwear in two only to elicit an indignant scream from you. His only response was his tongue sliding into your mouth and claiming it for a passionate kiss knocking all air from your lungs yet again. The pain in your back had subsided to a dull throbbing by the time he had freed his already hard cock from layers and layers of dark fabric, the pink tip leaking precum pressing against your bare folds and his lips still devouring yours in a most dominant manner.

Your own body was betraying you, arousal running down your inner thighs and staining his black coat as he bucked his hips and lifted you up effortlessly, making you feel tiny and fragile in his grasp. There would have been no time to protest even if you had wanted to, the most depraved parts of your mind struggling against the rational one as he sheathed himself deep inside of you without a warning and began thrusting into you frantically without granting you even a chance of getting used to his intrusion, or his girth.

Finally, Kylo released your mouth and instead tended to your neck. He was nibbling on your sensitive skin gently first before sinking his teeth into your flesh so hard he drew blood and you screamed, digging your fingernails into his clothed shoulders as he rutted into you like a wild wolf whose mind had been taken by rabies.

Perhaps he had. Perhaps he had forgotten in this very moment that he was your master and that you were his apprentice and he would instead realise that he couldn’t cage you like a female lioness just waiting to scratch her captors’ eyes out.

But against all reason, having him fuck you against the metal pillar felt amazing, liberating even—almost as if all the aggressive tension between had finally found a vent to escape through and make mindless prey out of you—prey which enjoyed being taken thoroughly by him.

Kylo growled, picking up his pace. His cock grazed your g-spot with every powerful thrust, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. It was not quite enough to toss you over that delicious edge taking your thoughts miles away from the Finalizer, if only for a few moments; and yet you moaned when he retreated almost entirely and pumped into you one last time, as deep as he possibly could, to fill you up with his warm seed. You could feel ropes of his cum like an endless stream coating your tight walls as he throbbed and pulsed, riding out his orgasm all the while you fought back your tears of exhaustion… and disappointment.

No emotion, no love. Passion, maybe, though not the kind you were so desperate for.

Kylo Ren might have needed you—but not in the way you needed him. You gasped when he pulled out, the proof of his strong climax slowly dribbling down your naked thighs. Without a single word but shaking digits nonetheless, he tucked his softening member back into his black trousers and watched you lean against the pillar in fear your knees would cease to support you.

“I’m leaving.” You said breathlessly, a wet stream of hot tears rolling down your cheeks and worsening your sight.

He scoffed in response. “You’re dismissed for the night. Get some rest for tomorrow. I want to see if your technique has improved.”

In his very own twisted and inexplicable way, he did not want you to leave him. It came to you only then. He could have killed you the moment you had admitted you would never truly commit to the dark side, must have felt it even, your imbalance, your indecisiveness, your lack of ambition and yet… you were still here. You were alive—and just a moment ago, his dick had been inside of you.

“It’s over, Kylo. I said I’m leaving.”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Oh yes, I am.” You retorted bitterly.

“I said you’re not leaving!” His command echoed through the entire hallway, about as loud as his fist colliding with the metal wall next to your head to leave a dent. “You’re mine!” Sparks erupted from it as he yelled, leading to the assumption he had broken some mechanism.

“S-Supreme Leader?”

“What?!” He spun around to face an officer, likely aware of the fact his last hour had struck in this very moment.

“We… we’re under attack. The Resistance, they have—“ An explosion interrupted him, followed by the entire ship shaken by what felt like a merciless earthquake. Kylo gave you a brief look. For just a second, you thought to be seeing remorse in his brown eyes—remorse, along with a silent plead not to leave.

It was gone so fast you regretted considering to miss this chance. Your way out of here. Your way back home, with or without the wayfinder. The Resistance might have abandoned you all those weeks ago but at least, they would pose as your means to escape, for you to return to your life.

“Supreme Leader, please, we need you in the control room now!”

You sobbed—and then you turned around and fled, his hot gaze seemingly burning holes into your back; without looking behind. And just this once, you did not feel the Force stopping you.

-

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my  first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would  appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[chelsfic]

Self-Defense with the Supreme Leader - Kylo Ren x Female Reader  Oneshot

A/N: Wow, an Anon really blessed me by asking for some Kylo smut. This entire fic is based on that gif of Adam Driver practicing a fight scene.

Summary: You’re a mechanic on Kylo Ren’s Star Destroyer and somehow you’ve ended up becoming his regular workout partner. Kylo is determined to teach you self defense, but you’re not the most promising student. When he senses your lusty thoughts during a sparring session he decides to finally give you what you really want.

Warnings: Smut (clearly), light dom/sub, oral sex, mind reading

---

“Again.”

You let out a huff of exhaustion and frustration from your position, sprawled on your back on the training mat. You’re still recovering from the blow to your chest that knocked the air from your lungs and caused you to collapse to your knees in capitulation. You’ve long ago given up any semblance of pride or embarrassment when it comes to being bested by the Supreme Leader in your workout sessions. Still the fact that you know he’s only using a tiny percentage of his actual strength to spar with you is... slightly annoying. Kriff, he’s relentless!

“Or...you know, we could rest?” you suggest breathlessly with a lilt of hope in your soprano voice.

His lips twitch upward and he leans down to offer you his hand. You feel a secret thrill at the sight of his long fingers wrapping around your smaller hand. Kylo Ren lets out a breath that could be a sigh but sounds suspiciously like suppressed laughter and you feel your face flush. Stupid mind reader.

“You need to learn to defend yourself,” he admonishes, hoisting you to your feet and holding your hand for just a beat longer than necessary as you find your balance. 

You roll your eyes, “I’m a mechanic. I’m not going into battle.”

He watches you for a long moment, something flickering behind those impenetrable dark eyes. When he looks at you like this, nothing between you but sweat and the humidity of your heavy breathing, it makes you feel naked and vulnerable. For one moment you’re confronted with the fact that you’re standing here casually sparring with the most dangerous man in the galaxy. 

Your eyes move of their own volition, flicking over his long, broad-shouldered form. His muscles stand out beneath the sleeveless shirt and his sweat-slick hair is haloed around his head. The power of his frame takes your breath away all over again. 

“Fine!” you snap, breaking the nervous tension before you do something you can’t take back. Like climbing up his ridiculously tall body and smashing your lips into his.

For example.

“Let’s try the arm lock again,” he suggests, his deep voice short circuiting some basic function inside your brain. The one that’s supposed to protect you from bad decisions like fantasizing about your force sensitive sparring partner while his sweaty, muscle-bound body is pressed up against you.

You shrug, not meeting his sparkling gaze as you loosen your stance and approach him warily. He knows this is your weak point. You’ve never managed to escape an arm lock in all the months you’ve trained together. 

If someone had come to you a year ago and told you you’d soon be spending your evenings fitness training with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren you would have called them delusional. A lowly TIE fighter mechanic and the terrifying leader of the First Order? But when you wandered into the training room late one night to find only one other occupant, a man you didn’t recognize without his faceless mask, your life diverged from its ordinary, sane path.

In a move too quick for your eyes to parse he grabs your arm, twisting it behind your back and forcing your body to bend to his strength. He holds your arm at an angle that isn’t painful, just deeply uncomfortable. You squirm against his grip, trying to pull away and only managing to hurt yourself in the process.

“Stop struggling! Relax your body. Take deep breaths,” he instructs you, flexing his huge hands against the crook of your elbow and your closed fist. “Remember what you’ve learned. You know how to escape this.”

You exhale through your nose, stomping your feet like a petulant child as you answer, “Knowing isn’t doing, Supreme Leader! You’re stronger than me.”

“You’re not even trying,” he responds in that infuriatingly calm tone of his. 

Fine. You move your free hand behind your back, cupping it around Kylo’s and pressing downward with all of your might. It’s like trying to move a stone wall. After a minute you drop your hand to your side in a huff of annoyance.

“Try again,” he urges. 

“I think you just like to feel big and strong,” you accuse with a laugh to show you’re only joking. Even after all this time you still feel his authority over you and you don’t want to risk displeasing him. “Er, Supreme Leader. Sir.”

He laughs at your awkwardness. The sound rumbles through his chest and into your body making you shiver. 

“Just shut up and try again,” he says.

You sigh, once again moving your arm into place and pressing downward to try to free yourself. He’s so close you can feel his breath puff against your skin, disturbing the flyaways at the base of your neck. You squirm in his grip once more, relishing the way his hips cradle you from behind. If you were braver you could thrust yourself backward, grinding your ass against him and finally feeling all of him pressed up against you…

The resistance you’ve been fighting suddenly lessens and your arm sinks downward. Without a second thought you spin your torso, bringing up the elbow of your free arm to shove it into his side and flying free from him. 

You stand there staring and gasping for breath, a grin slowly spreading over your lips.

“I did it!” you shout, jumping up and down a little and punching the air in victory. “I finally did it!”

Kylo looks just as surprised as you. His usual stoic, dignified expression is twisted in shock. After a few seconds he regains his composure and his full lips quirk into a sly smirk.

“You had an unfair advantage,” he accuses, stalking forward and crowding you with his body. He brings his hands up to wrap around your upper arms and you’re reminded again that this man is dangerous and powerful. But when you crane your neck back to meet his eyes he doesn’t look angry. He looks amused and...hungry.

“I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, your mind already flashing back to the thoughts you’d been enjoying seconds before Kylo’s grip on you loosened. 

He licks his lips, keeping his eyes on you as he slowly nods his head. He knows what you’re thinking. Stars! This is. This is bad. This can’t happen. He’s your... superior. Far. Far. Far your superior. And he’s dangerous. He executes people who displease him in the smallest ways. What if--

“Don’t be afraid,” his voice is like thunder in the distance. Pleasing and frightening at the same time. “You could never displease me.”

“O-okay,” you whisper, your eyes trained on his mouth as he lowers his head until you’re sharing the same breath. His lips hover over yours and you bump noses as he nuzzles your face, his eyes flicking closed. 

“I know you’ve wanted this,” he sighs, running his hands down your arms and moving to settle them on the curve of your hips.  “You’ve thought about this every night for a long time, haven’t you? When you go back to your bunk after our sessions…”

You inhale sharply, your words coming out as a squeak, “You can-- you know…?”

He laughs and drags his lips over your cheek and along the edge of your jaw, nipping playfully at the tender flesh of your neck before answering, “I always feel you, Y/N. Don’t you feel me? On the edge of your mind while you’re working on the flight deck? While you’re eating your evening meal, lonely...and looking forward to the next time you’ll see me? While you’re lying in your bunk...thinking about my body...wishing it were my hands touching you instead of your own…?”

His words have you burning with humiliation but your body melts under his touch. You bring your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks and tracing his plump lower lip with your thumb. You’ve wanted this for so long. Every time he’s defeated you on the training mat you’ve quivered with repressed longing, wishing he were conquering you in bed instead.

With a sudden, feral growl he plunges forward, finally pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and panting and fingernails dragging over flushed skin. He holds his hand outstretched towards the doorway. With a startling crash the door to the training room slides shut, sealing you inside with this man whose whims govern the lives and deaths of so many. 

He draws back from the ferocious kiss and stares down at you, his eyes are dark, fathomless pools. 

“On the mat,” he breathes, licking his lips and dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Now.”

You sink to the floor automatically, your body recognizing the authority of your commander, even if he is currently kiss drunk and shaking with lust. He follows you onto the floor, crawling over you and trapping your body beneath his. His lips catch yours in another rough kiss, greedy hands reaching down and shoving your shirt up to your neck. He palms your breasts through the fabric of your sports bra, squeezing his fingers viciously and eliciting a squeak from you that he swallows gratefully. 

His tongue plunders into your mouth, pressing and thrusting and rolling against yours. Everything about this is greedy, impatient and needy. So different from the calm task master you’ve come to know in your training sessions. This is the Kylo Ren who destroys control panels with his light saber and permanently disables storm troopers for minor infractions. You should be terrified. You should be resisting. But all you want is to be consumed by him.

He pulls back, looking down his nose at you as he shoves his fingers under the edge of your bra and snaps the fabric impatiently, “Take. This. Off.”

You quail under his gaze, the easy dominance in his tone going straight to the pooling arousal in your lower belly. It’s terribly awkward wiggling out of your shirt and bra while he’s leaning over you and caging you with his strong arms, but you manage. Once you’re free Kylo Ren continues to undress you, pulling your leggings and panties down your legs and tossing them away until you’re lying there naked for him. 

Kylo is still fully clothed, his eyes dragging over your vulnerable form. You move your arms to cover yourself, feeling the instinct of modesty even through your lust-muddled mind. 

“Look at you,” Kylo murmurs, grazing his fingertips along the undersides of your plump breasts, trailing over your soft belly and hovering just over the apex of your thighs. He speaks without expecting an answer, wandering through the fog of your thoughts with ease. “My little weakling. So ready for me. Yet still afraid. What are you afraid of? I’m not going to hurt you. I want to make you feel good. Do you want me to make you feel good, Y/N?”

You can feel him now. The slight pressure of him on the edge of your psyche. In the months you’ve spent in his presence you’d simply forgotten what it felt like not to have him always there. But now that you’re paying attention it feels like his signature is scrawled on your soul, he’s so inside your head. You are afraid. Afraid to submit to this attraction that you’ve always thought of as one-sided. Afraid of the implications of this once it’s done. You can never go back now. But you want to believe him. All this time he hasn’t hurt you. He’s been a friend to you. You want to trust him. To give yourself to him and let him keep you.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word coming out high-pitched and pitiful to your ears. “Yes, please, Kylo.”

It’s the first time you’ve failed to address him by his proper title but the spike of fear in your stomach is quickly smothered when he dives his fingers into the curls between your legs, sliding them through your slick wetness and finding the secret place, the soft pearl that sends waves of aching pleasure washing through your pelvis. Your hips thrust wildly upwards at the first touch, a wail falling from your lips. It’s been so long. 

He smirks at his effect on you, taking his hand away so he can grip both your hips and press them down firmly onto the mat.

“Don’t move,” he orders. And then he’s spreading your legs open, revealing your wet cunt to his hungry gaze. He shifts off of his knees, lying on his stomach between your legs and letting his breath ghost over your aching, tender flesh as he repeats himself, “Don’t. Move.”

His flattened tongue runs up the length of your slit, pulsing and pressing onto your clitoris, causing your whole body to shiver with the need to thrust against him. He smiles at the little mewling pleas that fall from your lips, murmuring his approval into your sensitive skin. He draws his face back and spits, bringing his fingers up to mix the saliva with your own moisture and then plunging two elegant fingers inside you as he reclaims your clit with his lips and teeth. He keeps his other palm pressed firmly to your belly, fingers splayed, holding you still beneath his ministrations. 

“Stars, Kylo, please! I’m gonna come...oh, please!” you moan, your mind lost in a storm of lust. You don’t even know what you’re begging him for. 

He thrusts his fingers into you faster, dragging the calloused digits along your inner walls as his tongue continues to stroke your clit. He rumbles a laugh against you sending a stuttering spark through your pelvis and into your bloodstream. 

“Do it,” he commands. “Come for me.”

He moves his hand from your stomach, finally allowing you to writhe and quiver with the intensity of the orgasm that sweeps through you. He crawls up your body, lascivious eyes drinking in your trembling form. In a swift movement he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and finally letting you set your eyes on his naked torso. His chest is broad and well-defined, you reach up automatically, trailing your delicate hands over his pale skin, tracing the lines of his muscles down to the trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts. Your eyes flick up to his and he grins down at you. His smile is boyish and unrestrained and something tells you you’re one of very few people who’s ever seen it. 

He brings himself down on his elbows, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and breathing you in.

“You’re so open to me,” he marvels, his breath hot on your skin. “Like an open book. I can sense every thought, every emotion, every...sensation.”

His voice shudders with the last word and he grinds his hips against you so you can feel the hard length of his shaft through his gym shorts. 

He keeps talking to himself, rolling his hips against you in a gentle rhythm that has you panting and mewling as you listen to his words, “All this time I’ve been searching for...for a twin in the force. Someone like me. And you were here all along. Perfectly...mundane and normal. But maybe that’s what I need...someone to ground me.”

You’re not sure exactly what he’s talking about nor are you sure you take being called “mundane” as a compliment, but you’re delighted with the stuttering pace of Kylo’s hips as his breath quickens and his hands move down to palm your ass and press you harder against his cock. You wrap your arms around his massive shoulders, loving the feeling of being utterly enveloped by this huge man.

You turn your head, laying a kiss on his cheek and whispering, “I want you, Kylo.”

He lets out a broken groan and reaches down to shove his gym shorts down just far enough to free his straining erection. You feel it pressing against you, large and intimidating like the rest of him. Kylo senses your momentary unease and he reaches up to your face, drawing his fingertips down the edge of your jaw and burying them in your hair. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you, his lips just brushing over yours as he rolls his hips, letting his cock sweep through your wet folds before catching and pushing into you. He is big and your breath stutters in your throat as he slowly edges inside of you. All the while Kylo hums into your kiss, whispering little shushing sounds and praises. When he’s finally fully seated inside of you he stops and presses his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes with burning intensity as you adjust to the stretch of him.

“I know,” he whispers, responding to your overwhelming feeling of being so full and stimulated and out of your depth. “You’re doing so well.”

You let out a breathy little moan and roll your hips up, urging him to keep going. He gasps and lets his mouth hang open as he draws back and thrusts forward again, moving his hands to your hips to angle them just right. He starts rolling into you, slowly, carefully, like he’s making love to you instead of fucking you on a gym mat. 

“Oh!” he chuckles, catching the thread of your thought. He leans down to catch your gaze, “There’ll be time for making love, Y/N. Is that what you want? You want to be my consort? You want me to raise you up and keep you by my side? I’ll dress you in silk and jewels and no one will ever give you an order or make you hurt ever again. Is that what you want?”

His pace edges toward chaotic as he works himself up with the fantasy. You feel his fingers dig into your fleshy thighs, probably leaving bruises, as he reaches a crescendo, shaking and hissing through his teeth as he comes. He leans back on his heels, looking down at you with dazed eyes, reaching between your sweat slicked bodies to find your clit once more. His touch on your overstimulated skin is near painful as he rubs you to another finish. You’re almost crying with the relief of it when he finally pulls away from you, collapsing to his side beside you and letting his heavy arm weigh you down. 

“I don’t need all that, Supreme Leader,” you finally answer him, straining to catch your breath. “I just want you.”

[user-name-not-found5]

Interrogation Techniques pt.7

Previous: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6

Kylo Ren is determined to get the map out of the Resistance Pilot. By any. Means. Necessary.

Even if that means exploring new ways to sexually psychologically manipulate his victims into getting what he wants.

AU where the map leads to Luke’s new Jedi Temple, where he is training the next generation of Jedi. Poe is a Resistance pilot, who General Leia Organa has put in charge of running the transport routes in order to bring force-sensitive younglings to the temple where they belong. The First Order is headed by Kylo Ren, a fallen Jedi just as Count Dooku was, and he is determined to end the Jedi for good.

Warnings overall: non-con, torture, violence, manipulation, smut, absolutely filthy smut, degrading language, abuse

Warnings for this chapter: parental pain, parental separation, mild violence, some smut, degrading language, references to drugging, references to noncon

Leia’s eyes flicked over the transmission again. She could sense the tension in the room as she replayed the transmission, listening to the drone of Ren’s voice.

“This is a message to the leaders of the Resistance, and Master Luke Skywalker of the Jedi Order.”

Every time the intro ran through, she could feel her brother and his students tense up instinctively. Rey gripped Luke’s shoulder as they listened to the transmission a third time.

“Before me, I have Resistance pilot Poe Dameron. He is alive, for now.”

Poe’s body lay on the floor in front of Ren’s feet. His hands appeared to be bound behind his back, and he was covered in bruises. The entire right side of his face was swollen, his lip and forehead still bleeding slightly as the Sith continued.

“I have shot down several of your pilots. I have taken their ships. I will find the locations of your base, and Jedi temple, and I will destroy them.”

Ren gave the unconscious pilot a rough kick in the ribs, eliciting a groan of pain. Leia tried not to wince again.

“I will get the map from him. I will get the map from one of the captured ships. I will fly across the galaxy and wrench it from another rebel’s cold, dead hands. There is no escaping it. I will find you, and I will kill. You. All.” He pressed his boot into Poe’s ribs, and the pilot squirmed in pain.

“Perhaps if you value his life, I will trade him for the map. You still stand to gain something. Whether you take advantage of that is up to you. In the meantime,” Poe was forced to his feet, some troopers moving in to drag him up. His body dangled in between them, his head rolling to the side. “He is mine.”

The transmission cut there. Leia rubbed a hand over her face, planting her elbows on the panel in front of her. She felt the eyes of the room on her again, felt the familiar tension in her shoulders. This was the first time she’d shown the transmission to the rest of the base.

When it came in, it was through the old channel. Ben’s channel. She’d returned to her quarters to rest, get food. Another mission had turned up empty, and she hadn’t heard anything from Poe or any member of the Green Squadron.

She was ashamed how much her heart still swelled with hope when she’d seen the transmission message on that channel. She was ashamed how her son’s voice, distorted by the mask but still his, had sunk into some part of her mind, some desperate faction that still hoped and prayed every night that he would come home.

The second time she’d watched it, she’d sent for the Jedi. She’d called in Luke and Rey, searched their faces for an answer. Luke remained stoic as always, while Rey’s eyes betrayed her horror as she watched one of her best friends writhe under the boot of the enemy. She wished Luke hadn’t brought her.

The third time, she stood in the command center of their base, watching her son kick the man she’d come to treat as her own. The murmurs around her were drowned out by the roar of Han’s heart beside her. She could feel every muscle in his body stiffen, could hear his thoughts racing a million parsecs an hour as he struggled to come to terms with what he was seeing. What they were both feeling.

She cleared her throat, finally.

“We will not be giving up the map.”

There were some sounds of protest; she raised a hand. “I have spoken with Master Luke, and Jedi Knight Rey. They have a plan.” She waved Rey forward.

The young woman’s confidence had grown as she’d studied with Luke. With their resources so thin, it was difficult to reach everyone who needed his guidance. But that meant that the ones they were able to save all that much more precious. Rey steeled her shoulders, speaking to the group.

“I received a… I received a vision, shortly after we believe Dameron’s ship was captured.” The holoscreen flickered as she brought up an image of the Saleucami system. “He was travelling with another youngling. I…” She looked over her shoulder at Luke for confirmation, who nodded in approval. “I believe that the vision came from her when they were captured.”

A small ship flickered into view on the screen. “According to the last transmission received, Poe would have been in the Saleucami system, here. But, the vision I saw would mean that Poe’s ship had to be further out, placing them here,” The screen zoomed out, revealing a map of the surrounding area. Saluecami became a small sphere as the screen displayed the entire Suolriep sector, and the diagram of the ship moved farther out, closer to the edges of the sector. The group murmured, and Rey glanced at her mentor before someone chimed in.

“How can you be certain?”

Rey rolled her shoulders back. “Because in the vision I saw, the child was looking out the window of Dameron’s ship. Saleucami was too far in the distance, too small, to indicate that they were as close to the planet as we previously believed.”

The murmurs became ones of agreement. Luke stepped forward, placing a hand on Rey’s shoulder, and offering her a smile of approval. “I trust my apprentice. In times of distress, the Force is there to guide us. Even untrained, it is not unreasonable that the child would have been able to reach out.”

One of the other officers, a young Kel Dor man, spoke up. “Indeed. Which would then place them moving out of the sector when they were captured.”

Leia nodded. “Yes, Tris. Poe was piloting a freighter- it would have needed to be a cruiser, at least, to pull them in. If Poe is alive, they couldn’t have been shot down. There were no escape pods on the vessel.”

Tris Gano spoke again. “The only intelligence we have of nearby cruisers would put them well outside of the system.”

“Our intelligence is so often wrong, these days,” Leia sighed. Han put his hand on her shoulder, and she returned the gesture. “Regardless, that means that they were either patrolling nearby, passing through, or they were seeking our ships in the area specifically.”

“Any word from our allies then?” Han’s voice was rough, the pain in his heart bared for everyone to hear. Leia’s fingers tightened over his.

“None. Which leads me to believe they were seeking our ships.” She inhaled, sharing a glance with her brother. 

“We may have a leak.”

Poe groaned, rolling onto his side. His ribs ached, his wrists burned, and his head was pounding, like his heart had crawled its way up his throat and into his skull, beating against the sides, screaming at him to get up, to run, to do something. Anything. It was too loud for him to focus, and he drew ragged breaths, trying to calm himself. He could feel the dried sweat on his skin, along with… he shuddered, burying his face into the mattress. He didn’t want to think about that. 

There was a mechanical whirring, and he forced himself to remain still as he heard the door hiss before sliding open. Boots clicked across the polished floor, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. He didn’t move.

“Are you going to lay there pathetically for the rest of the evening, or would you like to get up and wash yourself.”

Poe didn’t move, keeping his face pressed into the sheets. Any reaction would be used against him in some way, and no matter how much he wanted to leave the room, go scrub his skin red and raw to try and forget everything, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of needing that. Needing anything from him, actually. 

Ren sighed. “I’ve already seen everything, you don’t need to hide.”

Poe’s fists tightened in the sheets, and he turned his head. “You drugged me.”

“Yes, we’ve been over this.”

Poe rolled onto his back, keeping his eyes trained at the ceiling. It was plain and white, just like the rest of Ren’s quarters. Funny. He would have thought the head edge-lord would lock himself in a dark room to brood.

“Answer me when I speak to you, pilot.”

Ren hissed, and Poe closed his eyes. “Can’t say I cared to listen. What do you want from me.”

There was a minute of silence. Poe cracked his eyes open, glancing towards the foot of the bed and pushing himself up onto his elbows. Ren was watching him, a blank expression on his face.

“I’m not giving you the map. The Resistance is too smart to trade me for it. Why don’t you just kill me?” Poe moved himself back against the wall, the chain around his neck shifting uncomfortably. He pulled at it. “You just like the view?”

Ren chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Poe cocked an eyebrow. “An actual reply. Who would’ve thought.”

His eyebrows shot up as Ren actually smiled at him. Moving around the other side of the bed, Poe fought the urge to flinch away as he sat down. Ren’s back was to him, staring out the window. The uncomfortable silence drew out, and Poe caught himself watching the rise and fall of Ren’s chest as he set his helmet aside. 

Poe cleared his throat. “I’m not going to fall for the stockholm syndrome play, either. No matter what you do, or say, I’m not staying with you. I’ll die before I betray the Resistance.” The silence was agony. Normally Ren took every opportunity to monologue about how powerful he was, or how evil his plans were, or some stupid other villainous trope that Poe had seen in every Imp bastard he’d come across. Poe shifted, the chain clinking again. 

“You’re not staying with me.” Ren’s voice was cold. “You’re my prisoner. I don’t need to manipulate you.” He cast half a glance over his shoulder. “I have what I want.”

“You don’t have the damn map, the one thing that you-”

Darkness closed in, and he slumped back against the headboard. Ren sighed, lowering his hand, and unlocking the collar around his neck, lifting him into his arms. Brushing a curl from his forehead, he stared down at the pilot.

“You never learn, do you Dameron?”

[raisonroux]

OTAS: Ch. 5

The Getaway

By the time the lift mechanic reaches the scene, there is far more damage to the elevator and surrounding hall than just the reported call button. A chill runs down his spine as he is greeted by the ominous sway of flickering lights, unbound from their place in the ceiling. The strong stench of burning rubber assaults his nostrils. Setting down his bag, he takes out his data pad to assess the situation; his peripheral view alerting him to the Commander's presence. There across the data pad screen are two flashing prompts: “ERROR / “DAMAGE”.

“No shit,” he whispers under his breath as he stares at the door currently still smoking from the searing attack. He knows that in order to fully understand the severity of the issues, he needs to connect directly to the elevator computer system. This means two things: finding a working panel and restarting the halted car.

On the other side of the hall, Kylo stands… waiting. “How long until it is ready?” he questions. The chilling, robotic voice raises the hairs on the back of the worker's neck.

If it were any other person, the mechanic would laugh from the ridiculousness of it. The cosmetic repair alone will take days, not minutes. The mechanic prides himself on the speed of his repairs, perhaps the fastest in the Order (aside from Rose Tico, who was unavailable to take the call). But he doubts that even she could fix this fast enough for the Commander.

“I am still assessing, Commander Ren. I will need to move to another floor to access a working panel. I will return when I have news.” The mechanic is grateful for the chance to distance himself from the sinister leader.

“No, I will go too,” Kylo states. The news drains the blood from the mechanic's face.

“Very well, Sir,” replies the man trying to hide his growing panic. Still frozen in place, he watches as Kylo turns the wrong way down the hall. It hits him that this is a common floor, typically unused by anyone above a Captain’s rank. Despite the assurance in his walk, Kylo did not know where he was going. Seeing his Commander in a rare moment of vulnerability, the mechanic chooses his next words carefully. “Excuse me, Sir.” Kylo stops, but does not turn around. “If you don't mind, I know of a lesser known staircase this way. It will be faster.” He holds his breath, hoping the his Commander accepts the white lie. Kylo turns on his heal and gives a subtle nod, the relieved man leads the way.

With his bag of tools on the floor, the mechanic begins his work and connects his data pad to the intact panel. A restless Kylo peers down the hallway at a congregated stormtrooper group standing at attention, most likely receiving orders. At that moment, the soft rolling of a BB-9E droid passes by his boots. Smirking behind his mask, he jerks his wrist and the droid flies through the air - striking the white armored group, collapsing upon impact. “Direct hit,” Kylo murmurs to himself as the pile of discombobulated troops attempt to regain composure.

As the mechanic works, the man’s tedious thoughts drone on in Kylo's brain. For months he has struggled with sleep, but now he feels as though he could sleep standing up from sheer boredom. But then there is an abrupt pause in the stream of consciousness.

“That’s strange...” the man considers, and Kylo’s interest immediately piques. “So it wasn’t from the damage…huh. No, it was a forced reboot. But how? Nothing was scheduled in the system.”

Within one long stride, Kylo closes the distance between he and the man; grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him up to eye level.

“What do you mean, forced reboot!?”

“I…uh… I’m not sure. Someone would have to be at the mainframe computer to put in the order,” admits the man now convinced his life would end right here in this hallway.

“Where is the elevator now?!” Kylo booms.

Trembling the man looks down at his data pad and gulps, “R6.”

Kylo drops the mechanic to the floor as he thinks aloud, “The cell block. The trooper.” Looking down at the crumpled man, “I need this lift to move NOW!”

“I’m so sorry, Sir, but... but the system will not restart until it completes the cycle. It’s impossible for me to call the car until it finishes the restart.”

“THEN WHEN?!” Kylo bellows as he uses the force to pick up the mechanics bag. Throwing it across the hall, tools fly out and crash to the floor.

The man, his body twitching in fear, grabs his data pad, “Six minutes, Sir.”

“Six minutes and not a second more,” Kylo warns.

***

Your brain is still reeling from the events with the pilot. As you retrace your steps back to the elevator you recall his firm chest, his satisfied groans, and the skill of his mouth. Oh that mouth. In all your years alone, you had never experienced the thorough sensation of shared desire. Typically you are the one emoting pleasure outward, but his ability to pour it back into you left your body craving more. Although you know better, you consider turning around and making the most of the last few minutes alone.

Suddenly the deafening hum of the machine restarting snaps you from your daydream. Your body freezes as you realize that the elevator is no longer a getaway option, it was never an option. Of all the planning to reach the cell, you didn't consider how you would escape without the elevator. Running into Kylo Ren wasn’t part of the plan. With the whirring elevator back in service and the numbers noted above getting lower, Kylo would be arriving at any moment. There is no way you could face him again, your energy is too spent to try and control any more emotions. No, your only way out is to run and hide until the coast is clear. You turn towards a nearby hall and a patrol guard instantly detects you.

“Explain yourself,” states the suspicious guard. As he marches closer, the remnants of your escapades with Poe waft off of you, weakening his knees with each step. “Wow… I… ummm…,” he babbles incoherently. Once face to face, he falls to the floor with a thud.

“STAIRS! Where are the stairs?!” you yelp at the convulsing man below you.

He ignores your request and continues his vulgar moans as his mind swirls with pleasure. He raises a hand, and you barely make out a finger pointing to a door on the far side of the corridor.

Attempting to run, your muscles seize in fatigue. You feel as though your body will give out at any moment.

"It's too much, I'll never make it... No! Stay positive!" You will yourself to keep moving, knowing any damning thought may cripple you. As the door opens your heart sinks. There, on the other side of the door is darkness, not even a glimmer of light. This can't be right. Backing away from the door you hear the elevator ding open and the mumble of voices. You throw yourself across the threshold and pray the zip of the closing door goes unnoticed.

You are now inside the void. Hands stretched outward in hopes of feeling a staircase, you press on. The blinding darkness makes it impossible for your eyes to adjust. The rustle of heavy armor clamors loudly, alerting anyone within earshot of your location. Stripping the dead weight, you continue slinking through the dark hall in your black unitard. Suddenly, the feeling of slick steel on your hand gives way into an opening, you turn and collide at once with rusty bars. It dawns on you. This isn't the way to stairwell, this is the dungeon. These are the cells where forgotten people wait out their last moments. Fear strikes you, and you keel over in weariness. Rest, you need rest. You consider hiding in the empty cell to regain your strength, but decide against it since it would only make capturing you that much easier if you are found. You must keep going.

As you trudge down the black passageway, you hear the swoosh of the door you escaped through. Flinging your body against the wall, you clutch your chest to slow your breathing to a stop. You watch as a tall, back lit figure steps through the doorway, your eyes unable to make out any details except for the outline of a helmet. The door shuts, shrouding the room in darkness once again. Your pounding heart echoes in your ears, until the sound is abruptly eclipsed by the thud of heavy footsteps. The stomping grows louder, nearer, and you decide to make peace with your fate. This is the end, there is no where to run, and you allow your defeated body to slide down the wall in surrender. Right before you reach the floor a cold, powerful hand snatches your arm.

Into the darkness you cry, “Please! Please understand… I was just trying to help!”

“Hello Master Y/N. *Beep Beep Current status - satisfactory. No need for service,” informs the Security droid, recognizing you.

Crying with relief you pull the humanoid-shaped droid into a hug. Your heart swells with gratitude and before you can calm your already spent emotions, your unconscious body collapses into the robotic arms.

[caiminnent]

your hand, my knife [kylux, rated T]

Prompt: insomnia (@badthingshappenbingo​, 4/25)

Summary: On the nights his skin feels stretched thin over his bones and the voices in his head sound truer than his own, Kylo comes to Hux for comfort. It will be the downfall of them both.

Fandom: Star Wars

Tags: Post-The Last Jedi, Non-TROS Compliant, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Non-Sexual Intimacy

3K || Also on AO3.

On the nights his skin feels stretched thin over his bones and the voices in his head sound truer than his own, he wanders.

Technically, there’s no night on a ship. It’s all cycles this and shifts that, systems built strictly to make the well-oiled machine that is the First Order even more efficient. Even the layout is designed specifically to direct rotations through the routes where they would be most valuable, not a square inch left unmanned in any given moment.

Not a square inch to fucking breathe is what that truly means.

He doesn’t realize there was purpose in his stride until he finds himself at that door. Third time this week—Hux will revoke his access again. This time for good. His palms are already sweating in his gloves at the thought of being locked out here with half a dozen officers still mulling around, their consciousnesses threatening to seep in through the cracks of his failing mental barrier—

That’s absurd. He’s the Supreme Leader. He has nothing to fear from an access panel; he could blast it into a million pieces if he so wished.

Ripping his glove off, he presses a thumb on the panel. It beeps, blinking green once before the locks disengage with a hiss that hides his sigh.

Past the narrow entrance hiding the rooms from the immediate gaze, Hux is—

Hux is sprawled across that awful couch in his robe with a datapad in hand, petting a sleeping Millicent on his lap with his other, strands of damp hair framing his face. The sight is… soft, almost, impossible to reconcile with the vicious, ruthless face of the First Order prowling the bridge. General Hux wouldn’t be caught dead looking halfway human, let alone at home.

Armitage might, though.

Unease rolls off Hux, a low wave that sends Kylo’s skin crawling. His fingers tingle with the need to soothe it away—he’s not here to leech off Hux’s comfort, only to find some of his own—but Hux would sooner throw him out than accept the peace offering. The marks around his neck, down his side that he wore like a fuck you for weeks were proof enough.

Kylo hates everything. Especially himself.

Hux lowers the datapad and slowly sits up, keeping a hand on Millicent. “Supreme Leader,” he says smoothly, nothing in his tone betraying his anxiety. “Pardon my state of undress; I wasn’t expecting company at this hour.”

Of course he wasn’t. No one dares disturb the General for anything short of an emergency during his off time—no one but Kylo.

“Don’t call me that,” he rasps, heart high in his throat. “Not here.” He never comes here as the Supreme Leader. He doesn’t even look supreme right now—in a single glove and the first clothes he’d found on his floor, cape forgotten in his hurry to get out, he feels more like a giant shit stain on the pristine rugs.

Hux’s assessing glance says as much as he scans Kylo from head to toe, trying to pinpoint what broke him this time. “Very well,” he says with a small dip of his head. “Ghosts?”

“Yes,” Kylo lies. Ghosts. Demons. Nightmares. All good reasons to excuse away why his feet won’t stop carrying him here. Simple. Dismissible.

He’s worn them thin by now, though. Hux must not be looking closely to miss how see-through they’ve become. Maybe he stopped caring about it, for all he still asks; what does the reason matter when they all mean Kylo is here to ruin his night?

Releasing a put-upon sigh, Hux glances at his datapad like it pains him to part with it. “I used to get so much work done during rest cycles.”

The knot in his stomach unfolds. “Sorry.”

Hux only rolls his eyes, stretching to the side table to put the datapad away—nearly tips his caf over before Kylo steadies the half-full mug with the Force.

Millicent jerks her head up, tail and ears prickling up as she scans the area. Hux smiles at her—a warm, lopsided little thing that takes ten years out of him, a new gleam to his eyes. Kylo is struck by an image he’s never seen: Hux half-naked in his bed, blinking sleep out of soft, blue-green eyes, his lips curling into that sweet smile for Kylo.

Pathetic.

Scratching between Millicent’s ears, who settled on Kylo as the source of curiosity, “Stop staring and go get cleaned up,” Hux says, a note of amusement lingering in his tone. He turns to Kylo and it disappears. “I’ll be a moment.”

------------

Cleaning up is the part Kylo dislikes the most.

He’s not a beast, like Hux likes to insinuate often; he knows how to clean himself—but Hux has him wash with scented soaps until his skin is red and his scalp is hurting before allowing him into the bed. Punishment for all that he’s done to Hux on Crait—or power play, Hux exerting his will where he’s allowed to.

Or maybe, whispers that voice at the back of his head, he simply doesn’t want your smell on his sheets. He doesn’t want to remember that you’ve been there.

The thought cuts deeper than it has any right to.

Once he’s up to Hux’s standards, he steps out and into his old clothes—on second thought, takes the shirt off again and hides it at the bottom of the hamper for a cleaning droid to find. Hux will have a fit when he finds it neatly folded among his uniforms.

Part of him hopes Hux has already fallen asleep, so that Kylo can skip to the comfort of lying next to someone already, but the energy in the dim space is too off for that. He follows it to the bedroom, where Hux is enjoying a cigarra on the steps leading down to the full-height viewport, the pretentious bastard. The smoke detectors overhead are conspicuously passive.

Watching Hux watch the galaxy out there is far from a new experience. Kylo has seen that particular shine of red against the backdrop of stars a thousand times by now; the novelty has long worn off. The weight in his chest, the aching desire to card his fingers through that silky hair and slip the shoulder of the robe just that much lower have no place between Hux and him.

None at all.

Too tired for more games, he drops his gloves on the dresser and gets into the bed without waiting for express permission, burying himself under the plush duvet. The shower wasn’t enough to stave off the chill in his bones, nor is the wasteful warmth of Hux’s rooms. Nor will the duvet be, but Hux makes no move to even acknowledge him, let alone join him, so it will have to do.

Sleep hasn’t been a part of Kylo’s nights for quite some time. He stopped expecting it to be, trying to be content with drifting on the edge long enough to keep his head during the day. Still, irritation spikes in him when he’s drawn back from his rest, Hux’s barely considerable weight shifting the mattress underneath.

“Oh, hush,” Hux says even though Kylo didn’t make a sound, sliding under the covers. He’s dressed again, in a dark shirt that looks too big on him and matching pants. Kylo is already missing the robe. “Turn around.”

Kylo faces the viewport and closes his eyes, his body already growing lax in anticipation. No matter his words, Hux’s touch is always gentle as he combs the strands falling on Kylo’s face away, the lingering reek of smoke on his fingers sharp enough to sting.

Kylo grimaces. “Did you have to smoke the entire pack?”

The grip in his hair tightens in warning, not enough to hurt. “Do you or do you not want this, Ren?”

Kylo presses closer in answer.

Confusion and surprise rise in Hux like dust kicked off the ground, leaving a bitter taste in Kylo’s mouth. So Kylo is needy tonight, big deal. He’s not about to apologize for it. Shouldn’t Hux be glad to have more to throw in his face?

Hux carefully, almost experimentally, runs his fingers over Kylo’s scalp, through his hair, down a shoulder blade—pulls away at the shiver that elicits. Shame spreads through him, sudden and burning. Hux’s hands never really warm up, no matter the temperature of his surroundings or how long he keeps them under hot water. Poor circulation. Can’t do even that right. Weak, thin, useless—

It’s not Kylo’s thought.

Heart hammering in his chest, Kylo rolls over. Startled, Hux scuttles away, fear flashing over his face before his expression shutters into a guarded mask. The shame that coats Kylo’s insides is all his own this time.

Doing his best to pitch his voice low and soothing, “Give me your hands,” Kylo asks, extending his own with the palms up. Trustful. Open.

Hux frowns, eyes flitting down at Kylo’s hands on the duvet. “What—”

“Your hands,” Kylo repeats, trying to hold onto the thin threads of patience he’s never had for anything. He has to comfort Hux—doesn’t know why, doesn’t know how, but all his instincts are screaming at him to do something and by stars, he will. “Please.”

He doesn’t need the Force to sense the mix of distrust and curiosity oozing out of Hux as Hux cautiously places his hands on Kylo’s, allowing him to take them under the covers. Kylo tucks them against his chest and starts rubbing Hux’s wrists, palms, each finger—moving back up.

There are easier ways to do this. He could use the Force to help redirect Hux’s blood flow, no touching necessary unless Hux wanted it. He won’t ask, though. The trust Hux is—has been—placing in him is still fragile, tentative; it wouldn’t do to risk it by stirring up bad memories.

Hux’s eyes are trained where he can’t see their hands under the duvet. “What are you doing?” he asks on a low, bemused laugh.

“Warming you up,” Kylo says simply, starting on Hux’s forearms under the sleeves. The skin is smoother here, not calloused or scarred like his palms or fingertips, save for where his blade usually sits. “I hear I’m a human furnace. Might as well put it to good use.”

“Right. Can’t let your security blanket become an ice block.”

A security blanket. That’s what Hux believes himself to be. A kriffing child’s kriffing comfort toy.

Which one of them does Hux intend to insult?

Either way, Kylo’s not going to rise to the bait. “Something like that,” he says, shrugging his free shoulder. Humor drains from Hux’s face.

He makes his way down from Hux’s elbows, following the long, angular marks with his thumbs—Hux takes his hands away before he can get to the wrists. Kylo lets him, feeling oddly emptied in his guts—robbed of something he doesn’t even own.

“That’s quite enough,” Hux bites out, pulling his sleeves down sharply. “Let’s put your good work to test, shall we?”

Kylo grudgingly turns again, not bothering with the duvet. The backs of Hux’s fingers are only marginally warmer, but Kylo manages to suppress the shiver this time as they slide down his nape, between his shoulder blades, to the middle of his back and back up—like soothing an agitated animal. Soon enough, his eyes are drooping low despite himself, tension he hadn’t realized he carried slipping from his shoulders, his forehead.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” he mumbles, too boneless for more—stiffens again when his brain catches up to his mouth. Pillow talk. He’s trying to have pillow talk with Hux. As if Hux would ever tolerate that.

The hand has stilled on the curve of his spine. Kylo bites his tongue to keep from saying never mind. Hux might run this show, but he doesn’t call all the shots; Kylo can ask a stupid question without wanting to kick himself for it. He’s allowed to.

Hux takes a long breath, his touch caressing up Kylo’s body again. “Medbay,” he says on the exhale. Kylo wills himself into a statue, lest he do anything that makes Hux reconsider. “During my first years on the Finalizer—before I made it into High Command—I often had… causes, for extended stays. I couldn’t fall asleep in such an exposed, accessible place, however, nor would I accept sleeping aid for fear that I might grow dependent on them.  This was a… tolerable solution, at the time.”

Kylo’s head is buzzing. Why had Hux had to spend so much time in the medbay? Do any of the personnel at the time remain on board, so that he can reward them and then banish them to a backwater planet for having touched Hux so intimately? Does Hux ever think back on those nights when he can’t sleep and wish for someone to soothe him like that?

Might Hux ever consider Kylo for the task?

The questions are like beetles in his lungs, scratching at him to get out—Hux radiating anticipation and regret behind him. Before, Kylo would push on regardless, stealing the answers from Hux’s mind if he has to, the urge to sate his curiosity winning over the risk of having Hux retreat back into his shell.

He doesn’t even remember when before was.

Swallowing hard against the words trying to crawl up, “Thank you for telling me,” he whispers. Maybe, in some far, unlikely future, Hux will tell him the full story—willingly. Maybe Hux will want to share things with him.

Until then, Kylo will hold his tongue.

------------

He’s fallen asleep without intending to, he finds when he wakes up to an arm circling his waist and warm breath tickling his nape, Millicent at their feet.

He’s never felt safer in his entire life.

Closing his eyes, he allows himself to pretend, just for a bit. To imagine that this is just a regular morning in their shared quarters, nothing he hasn’t experienced before, nothing out of the ordinary. That Hux won’t be displeased to see Kylo has lingered past his welcome.

The alarm blaring from the side table shatters the dream.

For all his no-nonsense efficiency in everything, Hux wakes up slowly. Kylo can feel every shift against his back as Hux’s body resists wakefulness—sends a prayer to every deity he can think of that Hux can’t feel his heartbeat in return, evening out his breathing to feign deep sleep.

Hux’s whole body stiffens against his, that chalk-dust feeling rising again.

Instead of jerking back in horror, Hux pauses as he takes in the situation, the gears in his head turning almost audibly. He’s probably making that face, with the pinched mouth and lines cutting across his forehead. Kylo’s memorized it over countless simulations and battle plans, strategy meetings he only attended to appease the General.

Hux tends to radiate murderous intent by the end of those, though, not—not fucking contentment.

The thought sinks into his stomach like a hot stone.

The temptation to look into Hux’s mind and see for himself is overwhelming. He must be wrong. There’s no other explanation; he must be reading things wrong or—or the Force must have anchored on someone else passing in the hallway, in other quarters—hell, Millicent. Hux isn’t capable of feeling anything but contempt and dissatisfaction.

A thumb brushes against Kylo’s stomach and his heart skips a beat.

Hux pulls away. The alarm shuts off a moment later, followed by the refresher door.

Kylo rolls onto his back as if pulled in by gravity, staring at the ceiling. The room looks exactly the same as last night. As it should. He’s the one thrown off-kilter between then and now—the one with stupid, dangerous desires that will only see him dethroned, if not killed. The one that gets undone by a stray brush of skin.

Swallowing against the lump at the base of his throat, he pushes himself up and out of the bed, reaching for his boots in the corner. He doesn’t know what Hux’s morning routine entails, but Hux must want some alone time for it, to put on his uniform and his general face and the stick up his ass. Kylo’s already pushing his luck; he should leave before Hux comes back and kicks him out.

Hux appears before Kylo can get to the second boot. Kylo keeps his eyes on the task, not eager to face the General’s displeasure full-on.

Pausing in the doorway, “Oh,” Hux says mildly. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” Kylo says, trying to tug the boot up. He should’ve just used the Force and be done with it, but that would have woken Millicent up again. “I was just leaving.”

“Don’t.”

Kylo looks up sharply enough to hurt his neck—catches only a flash of Hux’s expression before Hux moves briskly past to the closet. Nothing but rows and rows of regulation clothing, jackets hanging without a speck of dust visible on them.

“Everyone is already awake,” Hux points out as he pulls out his clothes. “You will only raise heads in your… current state. My job is difficult enough without having to snuff out rumors that I’m fucking you for my position.”

Right. This is where they stand: Supreme Leader and his devious pet general. General Hux and the attack dog he’s trying to keep on a leash. Two monsters vying for power—nothing more, nothing less.

Kylo would do well to remember that.

Hux glances over his shoulder with the stack of clothes in his hands, raising a brow. “Some privacy, if you will.”

“Yeah.” Kylo nods, already picking up his gloves and the boot he’s knocked over. “Sure, of course.”

Hux watches as Kylo limps back into the main area to wait out the morning crowd, closing the door behind Kylo. All surfaces are cleared out of anything remotely personal again, the robe nowhere to be seen. If it weren’t for that ice blue couch, Kylo could have been in anyone’s rooms.

The door opens again. “And Ren?”

Kylo turns, almost tripping over his feet in his hurry.

“I’m keeping my end of the bargain,” General Hux says, nodding at the unmade bed. “Make sure to keep yours.”

[ultsoobins]

and so we march on - CBG

requested:

if you're taking requests, can you do something with beomgyu? maybe he just realizes how much he loves the reader please? thank u ilysm !!

notes:

zombie apocalypse au! some angst, mostly fluff and friendship and love. there’s swearing. got kinda carried away writing it, it’s way longer than i originally meant! i hope y’all like it, i had fun writing it.

summary:

five boys, you, and a bus. also there’s dead people.

“shit,” beomgyu hisses from up above, and your hands still at his tone. you stop tinkering with the radio in your hands just long enough to look up. he rapidly retreats back into the broken-down school bus you’ve all been living in for the past few weeks, closing the emergency exit hatch fluidly as he does.

“what is it?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper, trying your best to keep the tremor in your voice masked. taehyun echoes you, his words sounding even lower.

“there’s a couple stragglers out by the big tree. they’re a ways off, but there’s no telling if and when they’ll realize there’s breathers here.” beomgyu settles into the bus seat in front of you, wincing as he does so. he stretches his arms out, letting out a grateful groan at the small relief his muscles feel. it’s understandable - his four hour watch shift had extended itself into five, six hours as he’d decided to take over for you to let you keep fiddling with the radio.

“should we shoot ‘em?” yeonjun pipes up from the front, his card game with kai momentarily forgotten. while the elder is distracted, kai switches out some of his cards with the main deck. you disguise your giggle at this as a cough.

“we barely have any bullets left, and we currently only have one of our two guns with properly working silencers.” taehyun responds, wringing his hands. his voice may be stable, void of nervousness, but his actions never are - a byproduct, you suppose, of living during an apocalypse.

the space where your unofficial leader would typically interject is empty, and you realize that you’re all thinking the same thing.

“soobin will get back fine, right?” you question, tugging at the bracelet around your wrist anxiously. “he’s got a good eye, he’s a good shot, and he’s smart as hell.”

“plus, he’s coming in from a different direction than where the zombies are.” kai responds, moments before yeonjun flicks him in the forehead.

“i have peripheral vision, idiot. give me your cards, i’m reshuffling. also, zombie is such a vulgar term. try undead, or something.”

beomgyu mutters an agreement before letting his face get even more serious. you reach over the bus seat, holding your hand out for him to grab. once he does, you squeeze it in an attempt at comforting him.

“he’s also 6’2” and built like a kangaroo. if the zombies -” yeonjun shoots him a look. “the undead are going to spot anyone, it’ll be him.”

“don’t speak it into existence,” you sigh. “he’ll get the gas, and we’ll get the fuck out of here. you just see.”

this time, he squeezes your palm.

“in the meantime,” taehyun diverges. “how’s the radio coming?”

“i’m sure you all heard the static - which means it’s now picking up some signals, at least, but i also fixed the power source. rewired the whole thing to use solar energy.”

“guess those panel bits i found last week worked wonders, huh?” beomgyu grins, and you smile back. you draw your hand back from his, trying your best not to reel from the loss of his warmth. you look around the bus - your current home, you suppose - for a brief moment, taking in the lack of true light in it.

you all have flashlights, sure, and the occasional ray of sunshine will seep through the boards that the six of you fixed over the windows and the black paint you’d swiped over the door. the majority of your light intake comes from whenever the hatch is open and some one’s on watch, and that’s sporadic as it is.

it’s the days that light seeps in, by some miracle, under an entire row of windows that you’ve already come to love.

funny how the sun shines through the end of the world.

you blink, drawing yourself out of your thoughts.

“with a solar panel radio, though, i’m suddenly not a fan of the fact that we have everything boarded up and blacked out.” you point out, and yeonjun groans slightly at the truth in your words. “i think i only need to tweak it a bare amount more for it to catch any signals that are findable, but it isn’t going to work without semi-steady light source.”

“we can probably do something about it, i mean - “ beomgyu is interrupted by a graceless banging against the back door. kai, the only one with his feet in the aisle, gets up, ready to rush towards it.

taehyun quickly juts an arm out, effectively stopping the younger boy.

“we don’t know who it is,” he whispers harshly, and kai steps back. before any of you can open your mouth and ask your safety question, the banging resumes.

“open up!” soobin’s voice calls. none of you move. “fuck, fine,” he pauses. “bang opened his music academy in 2013, that’s where we all met!”

you rush over immediately, swinging the door open. soobin stumbles in, one arm wrapped around a canister of gasoline. the hand attached to the same arm is toting two others. he pulls the door shut with his free hand, making sure that it holds. as he does so, you pull the gun from his makeshift holster, setting it gently with the rest of the weapons stockpile you all have.

“didn’t even wait for me to ask,” the words fall out of your mouth to try and lighten the situation, and soobin lets out a dry chuckle. he shakes his head, taking a moment to gather his thought and his breaths. he’s very evidently been running from something. you move back, settling into the seat beomgyu happens to be in.

before you can apologize and sit back in your own space, he wraps his arms around you. seems like you could both use some comfort right now.

“two undead were out there - one was by the tree and the other was way far out by the tire. the second one was on my ass the moment i came in sight, so i had to put a bullet in its head. i don’t know if the other saw me or not - i booked it.” soobin’s story comes out in pants and is short and sweet and to the point. still, you find yourself tensing. beomgyu’s arms wrap tighter around your body.

“you got the gas though,” taehyun responds, trying to find optimism in the situation. “that’s something.”

kai nods, gesturing vaguely to the canisters before speaking, his words directed towards soobin. “i jump started the battery and all of the systems the moment you left - there’s a bare minimum of gas in the tank now, but it isn’t enough to even get out of this lot. once we pour it in, we should be home free.”

you knock on a wooden window board at his words, just in case.

“who’s going to do it, then?” yeonjun asks, nervousness laced in his words like a poison. it’s obvious that nobody wants to be the one, but it’s obvious that nobody wants any of the others to do it either.

you sigh.

“i will.”

“no-” beomgyu is quick to speak, but you’re quick to quiet him, too.

“i’ll be fine, beom,” you say, shooting him a smile you hope is bright enough to mask your growing fear. after all, the second zombie is still out there.

waiting.

“listen -” he tries again, but you disentangle yourself from his arms in favor of starting the walk out the back door. on your way out, you pick up one of the fuller canisters.

“i’ll be out and in in no time,” you say, and with that you’re out the door and into the day.

or, as it turns out to be, the night. when had the sun set? you aren’t sure. still, you make your way quickly to the fuel tank’s opening, ignoring the weight of the canister and the grimness of the night that envelopes you. it’s once you open the valve and put the mouth of the gas can to the mouth of the tank that you realize you’ve forgotten a weapon.

“shit,” you whisper under your breath.

it’s just as the can empties and you drop it that, suddenly, you feel the hairs on your neck stand up. you whirl around, and upon your eyes meeting another pair you can’t stop the scream that rips out of your throat.

it’s within five meters of you, and, no matter how slow the undead can be, you know that you almost have no time.

that, and your fear is paralyzing you.

its flesh is rotting, and the foul smell overtakes your senses before anything else. as it drags towards you in slow motion, chunks of skin and hair fall off of it, tainting the ground underneath it. one of its eyes has been gauged out, and it barely has any fingers left.

another scream escapes you as your fingers twitch in the air, searching for the weapon that isn’t at your hip. your panic has your senses so dampened that you don’t notice the sound of the emergency escape hatch clicking open, nor do you hear the back door clanging.

even the call of your name, distinctly from beomgyu, is lost on your deaf ears. the zombie drags closer. you close your eyes on instinct, the grotesque creature becoming too much for your senses.

suddenly, a shot rings out, just as a hand tightens around your arm. you jump, screaming once more as you open your eyes to see yeonjun’s fingers pressing into your bicep, and the undead being dead on the ground in front of you.

you glance up.

there, a revolver in his hands and relief in his eyes, leaning out over the emergency exit hatch, stands beomgyu. he lowers the gun only once you make eye contact with him, and doesn’t hesitate at all to hand the gun off to whoever is underneath him, climb out onto the roof, and slide down to meet you on the ground.

the moment he lands, yeonjun lets go of you, stepping back to watch you embrace your savior. as beomgyu wraps his arms around you, feels your tears stain the collar of his worn, torn-up old shirt, he realizes something.

he loves you, and he can’t live without you.

“don’t ever,” he starts, voice breaking at the thought of what could have happened. “don’t ever pull shit like that again, you hear me?” he presses his lips to the crown of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. you clutch at the back of his shirt like a lifeline, your sobs dying down after eons, soaking instead into beomgyu’s clothes.

you eventually step back, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands.

“thank you,” you whisper, and beomgyu shakes his head, letting his hands rest on your hips still. his grip tightens suddenly, and he pulls you back into his arms.

“i love you,” he mumbles, lips right above your ears.

“i love you.” you whisper into his neck.

before either of you can lean in, your lips mere centimeters from his, a voice interrupts.

“can you guys finish this on the bus? soobin’s driving, so we’re dying today anyways. just a little later rather than sooner.”

soobin’s voice follows as you start giggling.

“kai, i swear -”

“what? I’m just telling the - put that board down!”

beomgyu smooths down your hair before moving away from  you, opting to lace his fingers with yours instead as he pulls you back onto the bus. you lean into him unconsciously once you both settle into a seat.

“we lived another day,” you say, quietly enough so only he can hear. he grins.

“and we’ll live another tomorrow.”

bonus:

you turn the dial one last time, ignoring the bumps as taehyun drives. it’s been three days on the road, and you’re getting tired of all the false signals and dead ends you’ve been hitting.

before you can dismiss this try as well, however, a distinct noise echoes through the bus.

everyone stops.

“for anyone listening, we repeat, an army base is just outside of south bend off of the interstate near the old local clothing store. we have food, water, clothing, shelter healthcare, and protection. today is april 21st, 2019. for anyone listening, we repeat, an army base is -”

yeonjun is the first to let out a yell of pure happiness, and the rest of you follow soon after. you’re safe. you’ll be safe. all will be well.

in the heat of the moment your best friend - your boyfriend - pulls you close, kissing you with all of the emotion in his body. before you can pull away, he whispers against your lips.

“we’ll live for forever,” he says. you smile, eyes shining with happiness.

“and forever continues tomorrow.”

[solohux]

I have an ask. This ask serves as a request to hear about whatever idea you might have that you're waiting to find an excuse to talk about. Send this ask on to other writers. Let the ideas run free!

It’san all-out battle between the First Order and the Resistance. Both sides areexhausted but the red grassy plain that they’re fighting on hides the amount ofblood spilled in this battle alone.

SupremeLeader Ren is leading their forces from the front whilst his Grand Marshalflanks him, taking down any approaching foe with his twin blasters, firingrapidly at Resistance fighters who dare come near his beloved Kylo Ren. Theydefend each other, fighting back-to-back, ensuring that, whatever the outcomeof the battle, they’ll be together.

Thebattle rages on, Kylo is challenged by Rey who now wields a double-bladed greenlightsaber. Hux is distracted by Kylo’s fight and calls out to him as FN-2187is approaching from the rear with a blue lightsaber of his own, wanting to warnKylo about the danger but as a result, his own guard is dropped and aResistance fighter takes the shot. The kill shot.

Kylowhirls around just in time to block Finn’s attack but feels Hux’s pain throughthe Force, feels the very moment that his life force is severed. Kylo screams,sending a blast of wind outwards, knocking Rey and Finn on their backs andgiving Kylo enough time to run over to where Hux has fallen.

It’stoo late. Hux is already struggling, unable to stand, chest bleeding. Kylo begshim to hold on but Hux shakes his head, breathing in heavy but shallow gasps ashe tries to get words to come out.

“Deck39-X,” Hux chokes, staring into Kylo’s eyes as though trying to project ontohim. He struggles to pull his dog tags from around his neck but Kylo helps him,holding them in his palm. “Go. F-find–”

Kylosobs, burying his face in Hux’s shoulder as the remaining stormtroopers chargepast them to form a protective line to shield them from the Resistance, givingtheir all for their fallen Grand Marshal. Kylo screams to the heavens to giveHux back to him, that he’ll do anything; give up his power, take Hux’s place,anything. But there’s no answer, just the fading gunfire of the retreatingResistance fighters and the victorious stormtroopers.

Kyloholds onto Hux until the troopers come to him and recommend that they leave,that the Grand Marshal be prepped to be laid to rest. Kylo knows that he can’thold onto his lost lover forever to he eventually lets go, cradling Hux’s dogtags close to his chest as Hux’s body is gently ushered onto the shuttle.

It’sdays after Hux’s funeral that Kylo remembers Hux’s last words. Deck 39-X. Go,find. Another enigma of Armitage Hux, Kylo thinks. The Finalizer has no Deck39-X. Still, he walks anyway, long cape swishing behind him. Troopers andofficers alike bow to him as they pass him, and he’s almost overwhelmed bytheir feelings of grief.

Uponhis second lap of the lower decks, something catches Kylo’s eyes. Between decks39 and 40, there’s an anomaly on the wall panel, just before the turbolift atthe end of Deck 39, and it’s the exact shape of Hux’s dog tag. Kylo slots it inand the entire panel opens, revealing an extra, hidden hallway with light atthe end and chatter coming from it.

Kylolooks around before entering, making sure no one is around, and steps into thesecret passageway, finding that the door–wall–slides silently shut behind himjust as he’s through. Curious. He pads down the hallway slowly, fingerstwitching in preparation to grab his lightsaber should he need it but all wordsand thoughts fall away when he gets to the secret room.

Theroom is similar to that of the medbay; white and sterile. A few medics anddroids bustle around but it’s mostly silent, save for the sound of breathingapparatus.

Inthe centre of the room is a bacta tank–a stasis chamber–and suspended in thetank’s transparent liquid, looking like a sleeping angel, is Armitage Hux.

Kylois rooted to the ground, unable to move, eventually finding strength to staggerforwards but falls to his knees in front of the tank, reaching up to put hisgloved palm on the glass, wishing he could feel him–

Wiresare attached to Hux’s body, a pair of black shorts cover his modesty and a maskis secured over his mouth and nose. His pale eyelashes grace the tops of hischeeks, his red hair floats around his head like a halo. Kylo is speechless.

“SupremeLeader,” one of the medics greets. “We were beginning to wonder whether you’dshow up. Please, if you’d like to follow me, there’s something you must see.”

Kylodoesn’t want to leave Hux’s side but he does, standing on trembling legs tofollow the medic into a back room where there’s a monitor and chair. The medicgestures for Kylo to sit and he does, and the screen brightens to show animagine of Hux, pristine and handsome in his Grand Marshal’s uniform, but hiseyes are sad.

“Mydearest Kylo Ren,” the Hux on the screen says. “If you are watching this videothen I am dead. My condolences, I suppose. But I do hope you aren’t wastingtime grieving over me when your attention should be on annihilating theResistance and raising the First Order to complete dominance.”

Kylosmiles, letting his tears fall.

“Alas.I am sorry that our time together has been cut short. But I must answer yourquestions. My passing is something that has always troubled me since I was very young. Leaving toosoon before my–our–work was complete. Deck 39-X is the facility I build inorder to solve my issue. What you’ve just seen is not my original body but aclone of myself, grown from fetus to adolescent to the young man.Though we attempted to speed the growing process along, my clone is a number ofyears behind me. At the recording of this video, my clone sits at 20 years oldwhilst I, myself, am 45.”

Kylopauses. He thought the other Hux looked a little younger; brighter hair, stillsoft around the middle and yet to be defined. With there only being 5 yearsbetween Hux and himself, Kylo feels a little daunted at there now being such alarge gap between himself and the clone.

“Ihave tried my best to upload my memories to his conscious so that, upon hiswaking, he will be an exact copy of me not only in physicality but in cognitionand in memory too. This process is still fairly new so I am unsure of how muchmy clone will know of my past and my present.”

“So, mytime here has come to an end. But Kylo. Oh, my beloved Ren. Know that I’venever been happier as when I was with you. I hoped we’d even marrysomeday, perhaps when we’d brought order to the galaxy. Take care of yourself,my darling. I don’t want to see you again too soon. I love you more than the stars themselves. Goodbye, Ren. Or rather,hello. My clone is waiting to meet you. Love him like you loved me and you& him will be kings forever. Farewell.”

Thevideo cuts off, leaving Kylo in the darkness. He turns around, looking to wherethe bacta tank sits in the adjoining room and hesitates in standing up. Hedoesn’t want a clone, he wants the real thing. He wants his greying GrandMarshal back, not a young Lieutenant who possibly won’t know who he is.

Themedic comes back in and informs Kylo that their subject has been taken out ofthe tank and is being woken slowly. Only when he wakes will they know if Hux’smemories have taken or whether the clone is a blank slate.

Kylostands in the clone’s room, lurking in the dark corner, watching him sleep,analysing every one of his smooth features and compares it to HIS Hux. He can’thelp but feel unnerved by all of this; this clone is not his beautiful lover.

Theclone wakes up eventually and his vitals are assessed by the medics and droidsand deemed as fit and healthy to come out of stasis. They ask him if he knowswho the man in the corner is.

Theclone hesitates.

“No,”Armitage says, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Kylo’sworld crashes down for the second time that week.

Theclone only has Hux’s memories from his childhood; the most recent ones of Hux’shaven’t taken, leaving the last 20 years of Hux’s life out of the clone’s mind. The clone knows nothing of Kylo Ren; who is he, why he’s here,why he stares at him like he’s the most precious thing in the galaxy. It breaks Kylo’s heart but he won’t walk away, he won’t lose Hux again,not again.

CueKylo trying to befriend Armitage all over again, trying to help him rediscoverhimself whilst trying not to let his own feelings get in the way of Armitage’sdevelopment into the fierce strategist he was before he was killed.

YoungArmitage is almost cold towards Kylo but Kylo doesn’t blame him; Armitage’smost recent memories are graduating the Acadmey and becoming the youngestGeneral in Galactic history by stepping over the dead bodies of his peers. He’s yetto be warmed by the love of Kylo Ren, a relationship that only began afterSnoke’s death when Hux was 35.

TheFirst Order needs their Grand Marshal to win the war, but Kylo Ren needs his lover.It’s a battle between head and heart for Kylo; does he take a step back andallow Armitage to flourish as he once did, rising from General to GrandMarshal, a cold machine with a hard exterior, or does he nurture and loveArmitage and distract him from his destiny and possibly lose the war becausehe’s too busy trying to get young Armitage to fall in love with him again? Isit possible to do both?

Staytuned for the fic that I’ll never write.

[nekonoenpitsu-blog]

it’s a lie (but it feels real)

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3 -- READ IT HERE

“So why do you wanna go back to this musty ol’ room again?”

The loud groan of the Exisal hangar’s door is the first noise to greet the small boy’s question. Shuichi watches that typical lackadaisical smile stretched across his face, like there isn’t a care in this world, as the two of them step into the hangar together. If he’s bothered by this place, he’s showing no signs of it — but by now Shuichi knows that him showing nothing means nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

“I just…want to see something,” Shuichi says to him. “We won’t be long.”

It’s with a hum that Kokichi responds to him, arms laced behind his head as he waltzes into the room like he owns the place. Such a gait is only disturbed by the slight stumble that he takes upon approaching one of the deactivated Exisals, now no longer in danger of being used… Permanently. He doesn’t look directly at him, and while Shuichi doesn’t understand everything about him, he knows enough to know that the normally confident Ultimate Supreme Leader not making eye contact always meant something. It helps that the files that he’d seen and the whiteboard continued to play at the back of his mind; and while he’s never asked, he’s sure it’s doing the same for Kokichi, too.

Ghosts linger through every corner that Shuichi looks, despite the fact that he knows it’d never been real. The stench punctuates his nose anew, making his throat clog up in a way arteries should have, but couldn’t. Metallic and coppery as if he could taste it on his tongue for himself, and he just barely prevents himself from gagging on it; but when he glances at the press again, there’s no bright red that he sees. Instead, the day light reveals nothing between the slide and bed, as if nothing had ever been there in the first place. He blinks, tempted even to rub his eyes because despite the visual feedback telling him otherwise, it’s as if he’s drinking in something thick, with such a tiny body producing almost a lake right in the middle of the hangar, so loud and so obvious that even if Shuichi hadn’t been looking at the time he would have noticed. He feels it trickling down his airways and yet he knows that his eyes expose the truth, even if, when he closes them, red becomes the first color that he sees.

‘It’s a lie,’ rings in his ears.

“What?”

Kokichi lifts a brow at him. “I didn’t say anything, Shuichi.”

“Oh.”

There’s something about that, the way that Kokichi looks back at him with those wide, intense eyes that brings Shuichi back to the present, now. His lips still remain upturned, head slightly tilted, and he’s so solid here that it’s any wonder that Shuichi might have thought differently, just for a moment. The mustiness that Kokichi commented on before becomes apparent to him now, overshadowing everything else, as if this place had long been abandoned, as if they hadn’t been walking here a month ago.

The patient expanding and contracting of his chest draws Shuichi’s attention especially, as an idle thought tells him that there’s still a beating heart inside there.

There’s no doubt in Shuichi’s mind that Kokichi notices him staring, but he says nothing about it. “So,” he draws out the ‘o’, “what’s this something, anyway? You never said, and you know how I hate it when you don’t tell me things.”

“Oh. Right.” It’s not like him, is it? To be so spacey — but his skin prickles as the thought comes back to mind of what he’s actually here for, and of what his companion might think of it, or of him, for it. And that trepidation only worsens when he (reluctantly) draws his gaze away from Kokichi back to the press itself, back to the daunting machine that could be sprouting legitimate jaws at any moment, no matter how ridiculous the notion. Shuichi would believe it, after what he’s seen. “Um, come with me.”

Another raised brow, and that casual demeanor… It’s comforting. Shuichi won’t say so out loud, not yet, but he doesn’t really need to, if he has to guess the reason that Kokichi is putting it on in the first place. “Did you lay a trap here for me? Is that what’s going on?” Kokichi’s grin turns more sinister. “Wow, that’s cruel of you, Shuichi! Especially with what you know about this room, huh?”

You know what I’m thinking about, don’t you?

It’s an ‘of course not’ that never comes, but Kokichi continues as if it had, anyway. “No, that can’t be it. You wouldn’t be clever enough to do something like that.” The stumble, again, Shuichi notices it and it sends a surge of electricity through him, fingers twitching uncontrollably. “C’mon, Shuichi,” and that distinct whine in his voice sounds genuine, “you’re keeping me in suspense! I don’t like that!”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” Kokichi roughly cuts him off, the smile faltering. It fixes itself, stitching itself like it’s a mask growing upon his face, as if it hadn’t stumbled like his gait had in the first place. “Don’t start with that stupid shit, okay? It’s annoying. I’m only kidding, anyway.”

You don’t want to be here. And the realization makes his heart pound against his ribcage. You’re telling me to get it over with. And…you don’t even know why I wanted to come here. Maybe Kokichi didn’t mean it when he said it, but Shuichi’s inflicting an act of selfish cruelty on him right now.

“Right. Okay.” It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that Kokichi’s the same age; he portrays himself as seeming younger, has the composure of someone older, but there’s something tight in his face and he’s pretty sure Kokichi himself is aware of it, too. And that’s why he’s here, too; that’s why he’s here, and Kokichi will come to see that. Sucking in a shaky breath, working in his nerve as he can tell his companion is, he barely even notices his own stumble as his feet glide over to the edge. His stomach tightens as the expectation arises, subconsciously, that his shoes will brush along liquid, barely fresh and rising to lap along the soles.

Fingers glide along the press’s bed, a hitch of a breath ringing in the air. It takes Shuichi a second to realize it’s not his own.

The slide stares dauntingly from above Shuichi’s head, and the control panel taunts him from his peripheral vision. The layout of the buttons projects within his brain, the texture of the button tingling his fingertips, despite them currently pressing against metal. Metal, and metal alone, he sharply reminds himself, it’s metal he’s feeling at the moment.

“Shuichi?”

It presses past water that somehow leaked into Shuichi’s ears with how distilled it is, and he releases a tense breath between teeth to clear it. He doesn’t look back at him. “Can you…go to the control panel?”

“But…why?”

“Please, just do it, Kokichi. I promise it will make sense.”

He doesn’t need to look back to feel the hesitation in Kokichi’s body. Fingertips skitter along his back before they’re removed, before he hears the tap, tap, tap of the staircase. He spots white within his peripheral vision, contrasting greatly with the musty yellow. Eyebrows nestled together give Shuichi a surprisingly plain view of what he must be thinking.

His stomach rolls as he focuses on the flat surface in front of him, but all that follows it is a swallow. He’s not about to back out of this now, not after he dragged him into it.

He sidles his rear over the side of the bed, palms pressing beneath them as he uses them as leverage to take his legs along him. Shadows cross all over his body, the green neon lights’ rays no longer reaching him as he’s swallowed beneath the slide. As he twists to follow along with the bed, what was in the corner of his eye is now much of what he can see if he doesn’t want to stare up into deep, plain gray. His eyes follow the humps of the staircase until they arrive straight at the Ultimate Supreme Leader himself, where Shuichi told him to go.

He’s rimrod stiff.

“Shuichi?” he says it again, and now that Shuichi’s really listening he can hear the note that he’d missed before: fear. Kokichi’s eyes are wide on him, and his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the railing. The podium hides Kokichi’s legs but from the way he’s struggling to stay upright, Shuichi’s sure those are shaking, too.

Despite the pinch in his chest, Shuichi doesn’t answer him, not yet. Instead, he begins to adjust himself as he presses his back against the bed, feeling the cool metal seep in like tiny tendrils willing to snuff out the remainder of his warmth. He points his head upward rather than to the side, despite a part of him wanting to gauge Kokichi’s expression now, wanting to drink in everything about how he feels watching this for himself. Eyes light upon the plating that hovers above him, just waiting to come down upon him. He’s locked in place, almost, mesmerized by the fact that this harbinger of destruction is just hanging there, and there’s nothing that will make it move unless it’s told to. That such a power would lie at any human being’s fingertips… He’d witnessed it before, both on video tape and through his own volition, but it’s different being underneath it.

Nothing warm cradles his back, and in a way that’s more comforting than if there had been.

He swallows again, fingers splaying out near his sides, and toes being unable to decide where they want to go. It’s almost as if he’s subconsciously attempting to flatten himself against the bed, as if that will avoid whatever fate awaits him.

It’s so quiet in here.

Did they talk a lot, before it happened? Did Kokichi?

He can imagine it, the boy cracking a few jokes or ridiculous comments, as if the longer he speaks, the more he can delay reality.

“… Can you press the button, please?”

Of course, upon speaking himself, he can’t imagine how tense breaking that silence must be, considering how loud it sounds to him, despite the fact that Shuichi is always quiet.

“What?”

Shuichi winces. He’d expected this.

“Is — is this a joke, Shuichi? ‘cause if it is, it’s not fucking funny—”

“No.” Shuichi licks his lips. “I’m being serious. I want you to press the button.”

Shuichi doesn’t think he can bear looking at him, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what the pause that follows means, but it becomes so quiet that if a pin dropped from across the room, he could hear it. Despite that, it’s a strain that Shuichi needs to pull when Kokichi speaks again, his voice cracking, “Why?”

Why? It’s the question that Shuichi never asked enough. Why would Kokichi do this, why would Kokichi do that? Why did Shuichi not bother to listen to him? Why did Kokichi not trust them with this? Why, why, why? He’d done it in the beginning, trying his best to understand him, but he’d given up then. Given up like he’d given up for a while on the hope that they would ever get out of here, on the hope that he would be able to find the mastermind, on the hope that he would ever be able to undo any of his mistakes. And it’s strange, because even to the end, Shuichi knows Kokichi never gave up. He never gave up asking, he never gave up changing his plans — to the end, even when his veins coursed with poison, he still did his best to make the best of the situation. Did his best to point them all in the right direction, and maybe they would have earlier, if they’d just listened.

And that might be the worst realization of all to have here, within the hydraulic press, knowing that Kokichi is still listening, despite everything.

“I want to see what you saw,” he says candidly.

That’s clearly not enough to convince him to press the button for him. “Yeah?” But it is clearly enough to get to him. Shuichi hears it in his voice, a shake that’s not been present during the killing game and a shake that Shuichi sometimes wonders he’s the only one who’s ever picked up on. “Well, that’s fucking stupid. You’re fucking stupid. And crazy! Don’t forget that!” His voice rises, and Shuichi’s chest constricts. He… He understands, he knows what Kokichi is actually saying, and it’s taken him this long to hear it. “You’re gonna get—”

“I won’t.” Shuichi won’t let him entertain whatever dark fantasies are running about within Kokichi’s brain. Not again. “It has an emergency stop. I’m — I’m not…” Suicidal. “I just…want to understand.”

The lack of noise is so loud Shuichi’s sure his eardrums will explode.

“I trust you.”

It expands further, and Shuichi fears that before Kokichi even gets to press it his heart will burst forth from his chest and wreck his ribcage, tearing him apart with how frantically it bangs against it. Fingers curl up more tightly and the tenseness threatens to suffocate him. His back aches as the cool metal that was before comforting becomes almost claustrophobic in the way that it grips him—

The humming of the hydraulic press hits his ears.

It’s happening. The thought hits him harder than the tennis ball that Ryoma knocked back into him. This is really happening right now.

And maybe it’s even worse, then, that he’d heard it before he saw it, because he knows immediately what it means when the slide begins to fall closer toward him. Before it hovered effortlessly, as if nothing could move it, and now heavy metal accelerates toward him. It’s almost poetic how fluid the movement is, with no jerkiness or disruptions or anything that could stop it, like a train whose brakes no longer function. There’s no loud screech like every big blockbuster out there, nor a spark or a fire that would indicate immediate apparent danger to the body; just something solid coming straight for him, and in a way that allows him enough time to consider the inevitable, to imagine the way that it would feel as it pressed against his skin and made certain work of the bones that lie beneath.

Every movie shows this moment the same. Life, flashing behind one’s eyelids, considering the friends and family that a person has made, especially about a significant other that that person may be leaving behind… Of memories colored in sepia tones with a swelling, dramatic piece playing within the background on repeat. The climax rises as the death becomes all the more certain, as escape becomes a far-off dream, but there’s always a smile on the person’s face because they leave without regrets, because the life they’re leaving behind is the one they created, is the one they used to save everyone else. It’s always a hero’s death, and when the inevitable does occur and Disney doesn’t bring them back, it’s something of a triumphant score that greets the aftermath. The death brings pain, it brings grief, but it also brings happiness at the end.

But when Kokichi’s swallowed by the machine to the point that Shuichi can no longer pick him out, even in his peripheral vision, he knows immediately that’s not what Kokichi saw or heard. He’s no expert in understanding this, in understanding Kokichi, hell, Shuichi would argue in understanding anything — but he doesn’t need to, to know it never worked out like the movies portray.

As his surroundings begin to disappear one by one, even the neon lights no longer being able to creep underneath and join him, it’s one thought alone that stands out the most:

He was alone.

He shared this room with Kaito at the time. Kaito could have spoken to him then, Shuichi doesn’t know. But it doesn’t matter if he had, because for all Kokichi knew, Kaito was there to help him carry out a plan… Nothing more, nothing less.

‘Pathetic? Look at yourself, Kokichi. Kaito always has us by his side, see? But no one wants to be around you. You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.’

Kokichi died thinking Shuichi hated him.

It doesn’t matter if they all turned out to be alive in the end, that it all turned out to be fake. It doesn’t matter, because to Kokichi, that death was real for him.

Those words played on repeat in Kokichi’s brain. Shuichi’s sure of that. They are in his, and he’s the one who said them. He’s not the one who had to receive them. He bought into all of Kokichi’s bullshit, all of it. He saw cracks of someone he wanted to trust, but he never tried to dig any deeper, because Kaito’s simple and easy to understand and so is Kaede, but Kokichi isn’t. Kokichi says he wanted them to think this way.

Shuichi…was tired. He’d been tired at the time, that’s the excuse he goes by. But does it really matter what reason he had for saying it?

And Shuichi knows, too. He knows that everyone relied on his word, he knows that everyone trusted him and looked at him as a bringer of the truth. He knows it’s not just Kokichi who heard those words.

It’s coming closer to him, now. He can almost feel the metal up against his skin, and an anticipatory pain, as if his body is ready for something to happen to it, ready to pump in the endorphins, readying a fight-or-flight response so he can get out of there alive, and yet he has to fight the instinct with everything he has. He can’t run. He can’t run because there’s nowhere to run.

Shuichi gets himself to think what Kokichi must have thought.

I can’t run from this. If I do, Maki will be made the blackened, and this’ll have been for nothing.

But…

Shuichi’s throat tightens.

I’m scared.

A creak shakes him to his very core, running through his entire body despite the fact he’s nowhere near it. When an alarm sounds, it hits him then: the hydraulic press must’ve stopped.

Shuichi’s breath is shaking badly when he does manage to hear it again. He shuts his eyes tight.

He wasn’t suicidal. He wasn’t looking at the slide like a brave hero would in some movie. He didn’t regard his own actions as heroic…

This wasn’t peace for him. It was just inevitable. He had to do it. He had to.

“Shuichi?”

Kokichi’s voice ends the alarm. The machine moves again, but it’s the slide moving back up. Shuichi’s veins still pump with adrenaline, with his body’s need to protect him, and he has to continue breathing, remind himself to continue breathing.

Metallic footsteps sound in a room in which all other noise has faded. Shuichi doesn’t rise to his feet yet, so he knows it’s Kokichi, despite his eyes being closed. In a way, the repetitive noise is comforting… It’s different from the hydraulic press. It contains some kind of life to it.

They eventually stop, and Shuichi can tell by the distance that Kokichi isn’t far from him. In fact, he’s likely up against the bed itself, and it makes him wonder if Kokichi fears it a little. Even if he does, here he is—

Here he is, for Shuichi.

“I’m sorry,” Shuichi chokes out, after a moment. Fear has his heart leap into his throat, but he forces his eyes open anyway and looks at Kokichi, really looks at him.

Kokichi’s eyes are the same wide as they were before he went into the press, but there’s something softer to them that wasn’t there before. “You’re crying,” he tells Shuichi.

Shuichi hadn’t even noticed until Kokichi pointed it out.

Kokichi’s head turns, slightly. “You look stupid and ugly when you cry.”

And somehow, some way, that gets a laugh out of Shuichi. A soft, broken laugh, but it’s a laugh nevertheless. Did you say something like that to yourself? But Shuichi won’t ask that question, nor will he ask any of the others, at least not now. They’ll…have plenty of time now, to talk about it. That’s what he will make sure of, anyway. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, idiot.”

“Sorry—”

“Ughhh,” Kokichi groans, but Shuichi sees it — he’s smiling. And it’s different from the smile of before, from when they first entered the hangar. It’s something real, as if there’s a latch of understanding between the two of them that wasn’t there before, and it has Shuichi’s heart lurch to see it. To know that Kokichi would smile like that, at him, after everything that happened. After the pain that he caused him. “You’re so dumb, y’know? And really transparent, too. I know what you’re thinking right now.”

“What am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking I’m totally a crybaby like you.” Kokichi waves a hand. Shuichi opens his mouth to ask what he means by that, but— “You’ll figure it out, Mister Detective. But as lovely as this place is, I don’t wanna be in it for another minute more… So…if you’re done…?”

The feeling is definitely mutual. Shaking palms press against the edge of the bed, legs swinging over it, but he can feel the shake within them. He can feel the shake within everything. It’s as if he really was about to die, back there, under the hydraulic press; that if the emergency stop hadn’t gone off…

He glances at Kokichi, who despite sounding impatient before, is waiting for him easily, albeit while looking at his fingernails. No, he thinks to himself. Kokichi was manning the controls. If the emergency stop didn’t go off, Kokichi would have stopped it instead.

‘I trust you.’

Shuichi had meant that. It wasn’t a lie.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

He reaches out for Kokichi’s hand.

Kokichi eyes it and he hesitates. “What, you want help out? Is crying tuckering you out that much?”

Shuichi raises an eyebrow at him. Kokichi seems to understand, then, as he takes his hand.

And then it occurs to Shuichi right then what Kokichi meant.

I forgive you, so don’t worry about it anymore.

[jellybean531]

Meeting Request

This is my plus-size reader back again. She has heard of the incredible military leader, M’Baku, but he has some unexpected attributes that take her by surprise. Who knew a meeting could bring so much...more?

I pull a lot of this from my life and being bored in meetings. Have you every fully day-dreamed in a meeting? What if....well, just keep reading. 

If you want to check out my other fiction, it’s all on my M’Baku Masterlist.  I hope you enjoy. 

Client Engagement 

She was bored in the conference room, awaiting her next meeting, clicking her pen against her pad of paper. She had prepared all of her notes and was convinced she could impress this new client with ease. She became smarter in tough situations. 

For today’s occasion, she wore her cutest suit that accentuated her curves and a pair of heels that showed off her long shapely legs. It was a winning combination. With her cute cat-eye glasses and flawless makeup, she was ready. She had the “cute, curvy black girl” look down. She knew she needed to land this client or her promotion was in danger. She knew she was good, but hooking this client was a big deal. She brought her somewhat goofy male assistant along to take notes. He was charming and she was always surprised when clients thought he was the decision-maker, not her. He had an Associates and she had two Masters’ degrees. 

As head of the defense ministry in Wakanda, her next client was a formidable soldier. She knew that he would ask her questions to ensure that she was prepared; a challenge she anxiously awaited. She was very smart, her long braids pulled back into a smart bun. Her years of analysis had taught her that she had to look the part twice as much to be respected by a man, likely 4 times for a Jabari man- a masculine culture that she was curious about. She was often thought to be a cheeky, outspoken American woman, but didn’t mind the challenge. She had her corporate armor on and was ready for the outspoken, Jabari General-turned statesman.

As she sipped on her cool glass of water, she visualized the end of the meeting, full handshake, and all smiles. She reassured herself again that she had this down. She looked at her watch one more time, wondering where this man could be and silently judged his lateness. “Another man using his power to get what he wants,” she thought.

She was jolted out of her thoughts quickly. 

“Please rise for the Honorable M’Baku, Great Gorilla, undefeated in battle, father to the Jabari,” a breathy female voice said. Then, 3 large-shouldered men in tailored black suits entered the room. They had earpieces and sunglasses and were unsmiling. “If this is the appetizer, then what is the main course?” she thought silently, with the briefest of smiles breaking on her full lips.

“Please rise for Lord M’Baku.” You stood up and tapped your assistant on the shoulder. In his notes, you could see that he had written “so many snacks” at the top. You glared at him briefly and he rose with a half grin, bashfully. 

You kicked yourself for not looking at pictures of the Jabari lord beforehand. He was tall and entered the room with an Obama-like swagger, but modified for his large, imposing (exciting) form. His warm smile and tall stature overwhelmed you for a moment. You had to catch your breath. Lord M’baku was a sight to behold. He was in a military uniform, black suit with the Jabari symbol on one arm. The pin of a Gorilla mask was small on his lapel, signifying his tribal rank. His 6′5″ frame was framed perfectly in his suit, accentuating his broad shoulders (that you wanted to squeeze) and he smelled...just good. Your biggest challenge would be overcoming his easy grin and the fact that he was your type...in every way. 

“Please sit down.” All of this formality for nothing. If the lady would please sit first, I would be so honored.” He smiled at you, his deep baritone voice music in your ears and he held out his hand for you to sit. You hated taking orders but found yourself in a chair quickly face-to-face with the leader. Your defenses were completely down. 

“Have we taken good care of you?” He asked. “Oh yes,” you smiled, thinking of the many other ways he could take care of you, but you were here for business...and only business.

He leaned back in the big executive chair right across from you. “So, you are the smart businesswoman I’ve heard so much about. How short can we make this meeting?”

“Well, I have a comprehensive deck.” 

He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “How about this? Your reputation is impeccable and I like you. Pitch me in 5 minutes. That’s all the time that I need.”

“Ok. This deal is a win for you. Here’s one slide outlining everything.” as you slid it across the table “I have a 95% record of success and land huge profits for all my clients.”

“I don’t know why I like you or trust you, but the deal is done. Have your assistant work up the specifics and let’s get moving. I just have one condition, he said..making clear eye contact with you. “Clear the room.” “I said ‘clear it.” he bellowed.

His bodyguards moved with lightning speed, noteworthy for men of their size. One of them motioned towards your assistant and you gave the go-ahead. Before you knew it, you were face to face with the Jabari lord-alone, your nose full of his alluring scent, your eyes beholding his glory, and your ears listening intently to him. You were clutching the chair with all your might to not melt into a puddle. 

“Two conditions: first, I want to be your only client. Can that happen? I’m selfish, and I don’t like to share.”

“Can you afford my entire team?” you asked.

“Yes. Money is no object.”

“What’s in it for me?” you peered over your glasses

“The chance to make me a lot of money.”

“I may be sold, but I’m not sure.”

“Look. Other firms would kill for this.” He leaned in and put his hands on the table his imposing form towering over you. 

“I’m not other firms I’ll try it for 6 months. After that, I’ll open-source my secrets -it’s all risk for you.”

“Second, have dinner with me tonight.” Your face flushed. You knew you looked good, but you also knew the Jabari lord drove the women crazy. You wanted to be known for your skills at work, not your other skills (of which you had many).

“I’m afraid I...”

“Look. I don’t bite. It’s just dinner.” He said with a wide, beautiful smile. 

You looked at him bashfully and but your lip. “I can do dinner, but what about...”

“I’ll have my assistant cancel your appointments. I’m sure they will understand.”

A deal and a date, you thought to yourself. This turned out much better than you had planned.

“Meet me at the Ritz-Carlton in 2 hours.”

Best Intentions

You arrived at the Ritz Carlton in a little black dress- you always packed one, and a pair of heels with leopard trim. You added a scarf for a little glam, but no cleavage as you didn’t want to sell more than your business skills. You took a deep breath -you knew this dress hugged in all the right places. 

When you arrived at the front desk, the bellman recognized you. “Are you the dinner guest of Lord M’Baku? “Yes, I am.” “Great. Go to the desk at the far end.

When you went to the standalone desk, you gave your name, and the woman at the desk smiled. “We’re so glad you’re here.” Please follow me.

She took you to a private elevator on the other side of the extensive lobby. We’re thrilled you could join us this evening. “Do I need to push a button?” “No. This elevator is penthouse only. “What did you get yourself into?” you thought

You were nervous in the glass-paneled elevator, but it went to the 23rd floor of the hotel. When you stepped off of the elevator, you couldn’t believe your eyes. This was the entire 27th floor of the hotel, with their very own concierge, who greeted you. “Welcome. We’ve been expecting you. Please follow me.” a concierge beckoned, smiling knowingly at you. 

You walked through the lobby to another door and she unlocked a room. You were a little nervous, but when the door opened, you were in an expansive dining room. The Gorilla pin that M’Baku had worn earlier had life-size replicas in the dining room, and a round, wooden table greeted you. “Please be seated while we inform him that his guest has arrived.”

Wow. His very own floor? suite? dining room? You looked at the pictures on the wall and assumed they were of Jabari-land. The table was set with an ornate arrangement and red and white bottles of wine were on the table as well. 

You stood as Lord M’Baku entered, again, smelling amazing. “Please sit, dear.” He flashed that brilliant smile at you again and you awkwardly sat. “Did you find everything ok?” 

“I did. This is so nice.” I really appreciate the invitation.

“The pleasure is all mine. “I’m so fortunate to have a nice young woman such as yourself join me for dinner.” I’m so impressed by you, and I’m glad we’ll be working together. Enough about work. Tell me about you. He leaned in and you wanted him to come closer, but you caught yourself, just in time.

How will I ever close this deal, you asked yourself, as the door closed behind you. 

M’Baku looked at you in your adorable black dress. “You look very nice,” he said somewhat bashfully. “Thank you. I clean up well.” He didn’t respond, but the twinkle in his eye suggested that he agreed.

You slowly sipped your white wine and appreciated M’Baku’s form. “Thank you for the invitation,” you said. “I’m always happy to entertain guests. You were a formidable negotiator today. Your reputation preceded you, but I was impressed.”

“I’m not usually this informal with my clients,” you said. M’Baku chuckled “You haven’t seen the might of the Jabari firsthand, then.” You knew that was a famous Jabari tagline and laughed lightly. 

Your were feeling slightly flushed and your eyes became lidded. You felt your shoulders loosen and you took down your hair. You engaged in conversation with M’Baku and felt yourself start to relax.

He smelled so good. Although M’Baku had started across the table, he was suddenly sitting next to you. You chuckled at him a little too much and he was right there. His body and broad chest were within striking distance. You started to laugh too hard at his jokes and touch him too much. It felt so lovely. 

“Is this how your close deals, in that black dress”? He asked. “Not at all. You would have worked with me regardless.” “How can you be so sure?” “There’s no one better.” It’s that simple.

M’Baku bit his lip, impressed with your confidence. “You know why I invited you here, right?” “I’m not sure, actually.” “Well, I want all of you.”

“That’s not for sale, sir.” you said, indignant.

“It’s ok.” he moved closer, brushing your cheek. “You are a very beautiful woman. Why are you single?”

This question irritated you more than most. “I’m not sure.” It was the truth. Somehow, you were too awkward, too nerdy, always too something.

“Let me tell you something.” “What is that?” “In my country, you would be a queen. You’re one of the smartest people -man or woman -that I’ve ever met.” I’d be lucky to have someone like you.

“Really”? You said softly. All of your confidence in the boardroom was inverted around men.

“Jabari men don’t stutter.” With that, M’Baku closed the distance between you and kissed you. It was a long, lingering kiss -the kind of kiss that was an invitation and a warning at the same time. It was sweet, but with a hint of danger. You wanted it so much.

Just then a server entered the room, interrupting you two mid-embrace. “I’m sorry, Lord M’Baku.” He waved the waiter away and whispered in your ear, “This is going to be a very successful partnership.”You looked him in the eye and said, “are you sure you’re ready?” “A Jabari man is always ready. Be prepared.”

He was your only client now and about to be so much more.

Tag List: @therevolution-willbelive  @mbakuwifey  @muse-of-mbaku @great-neckpectations @thiccdaddy-mbaku @jackburtonsays @unholyxcumbucket @sweettea-and-honeybutter @6lackraconteur

Want More? Check out “Working Lunch”

[roggling]

For the kiss prompt can you do 10 or 11 with kallura and plance please ? ( happy you started to write again!!!! )

#9 and #11 coming right up! (happy to be back!)

#9: “War’s End” Kiss

#11: “I almost lost you” Kiss

Read it under the cut!

Send me a kiss prompt and a pairing!

Four of the beaten and battered Lions crashed onto the barren Earth field in heavy heaps of metal. Their mouths hung open long enough to let the Paladins crawl out before shutting closed. Four Paladins joined together, all of them looking up at the sky, their eyes watching a blast expand bigger and bigger to engulf its powerful opponent.

“Is it over?” Lance murmured, his tanned skin illuminated by the pink and teal color of the explosions above. 

His question was answered when chunks of Honerva’s ultimate robeast crashed down, the robot now incapacitated for good. The four of them smiled in relief and Lance, Pidge, and Hunk began celebrating. Keith, however, noticed something.

“Where’s Allura?”

The three stopped and their eyes widened when they realized that the princess was missing. A sudden groan and wail of metal caught their attention when they see the ship’s central command falling out of the cloud of debris. Latched onto it was the Blue Lion.

“Princess!” All four grounded Paladins called out desperately when they saw a speck of white running on the surface of the crashing central command.

Without thought, Keith sprinted for the Black Lion, his feet carrying him at a speed that Pidge nor Hunk thought was possible. He crashed his shoulder against the mouth of the lion, hoping that his force would somehow open the Lion’s mouth.

“Black, open! Please! Allura’s in danger, we have to save her!”

The Lion, however, was spent. It wouldn’t open it’s jaw.

Keith pounded even harder, “Black! Open your mouth!”

“Keith!” 

Keith turned around and looked at the spot Lance was pointing at, his eyes widening and his pupils narrowing ever-so-slightly as his anger and desperation reached at an all-time high. The Blue Lion was spent as well and had already crashed. Allura was still on the crashing debris, holding a ragged figure in her arms.

Keith turned to face the Black Lion’s unresponsive form and he pounded it again, his fists actually causing a slight dent, “OPEN! What the hell is wrong with you!”

Keith turned towards the direction of the crash again when he heard a loud hum and he froze in horror and his blood ran cold as he watched the whole chunk of central command crash into a fiery explosion.

The four stood in complete silence, their eyes widened and their jaws hanging open, waiting to see if there was any sign of the Princess.

However, one wasn’t as patient.

“Allura!” Keith’s guttural scream echoed into the empty air behind them and was swallowed by the roaring fire in front of them. Keith turned on his jetpack and leaped into the direction of the blazing fire, later resolving to sprinting into the fire when his jetpack ran out of juice.

He could faintly hear the calls of his comrades behind him, but the crackle and hiss of the fire in front of him was louder than anything else. It called out to him and in the back of his mind, Keith is reminded of his father and how much this situation reminds him of his father’s last moment.

However, he shakes it off, reminding himself that he isn’t his father and how this isn’t a house fire and he sprints in deeper into the blaze. When the smoke became too thick, he ripped a piece of black fabric off his suit and places it against his nose and mouth, exhaling and inhaling the somewhat filtered oxygen as he desperately searched every nook and cranny of the debris for any evidence of the Princess’s survival of the crash.

“Allura!” Keith yelled. No response. “Allura!”

Almost immediately after that second call, he hears a faint cry, “Keith!”

Keith immediately ran in that direction, jumping over and sliding under debris to get there quickly, “Allura!”

“Keith!”

With that final cry, Keith took a left by what looked to be a control panel and he was met face to face with a pink particle barrier surrounding Allura and an unconscious body under her.

A heavy metal beam was crushing down on them and has already caused a few cracks already on the barrier Allura had put up. Keith evaluated the situation quickly and kneeled beside the barrier. He threw the black fabric of his under armor on the grown and tried to lift the metal beam.

Keith strained, feeling his head grow hot and his veins pop. He heard the faintest of whispers, “Keith.”

Suddenly the pink glow of the particle barrier faded and the metal beam dipped slightly. Keith looked down, his squinted eyes watering by the smoke, but he could see Allura collapse on the ground on top of the other unconscious body under her.

Keith let out almost an inhuman growl and his pupils narrowed and his eyes got a yellow tint to it. He roared, his canine teeth almost becoming like fangs and strained harder, the metal beam being lifted above his head and he threw it behind him.

He immediately kneeled beside Allura’s unconscious form and ripped off another piece of fabric from his under armor, this one big enough for him to tie around her head like some sort of mask. He did the same for the person under Allura, hesitating when he sees that it was Honerva; however, the thought of Allura in danger pushed him forward and tied the fabric around her head.

He then did the same for himself, that last action getting rid of the last of the fabric covering his thighs, and stood up. First, he threw Honerva over his shoulder and lifted Allura by her abdomen.

“Keith,” he heard her cough, her voice muffled by the fabric on her mouth.

Keith froze and he sat her down, Honerva still dangling from his shoulder as he kneels beside Allura, “Allura! Are you okay?”

Allura, however, pushed him away, “Go.”

Keith furrowed his brows but then heard Allura finish, “The…robeast…will…self…destruct…”

When Allura couldn’t speak anymore she pointed at the control panel he passed by earlier and he sees a faint light bulb flashing every tick. Keith’s eyes widened, recognizing Altean numbers counting down and he tried turned back to Allura.

Surprisingly, her hand was already lifted and she grabbed his jaw as he turned his face to face her. Her cheeks turned upwards and he assumed she was smiling under the black fabric covering her mouth.

“Go, Keith, please,” Allura’s voice rasped, her exhausted body growing limper and her hand dragging down his face and down his chest and abdomen as she sleeps back into unconsciousness.

“Not a chance,” Keith assured.

He pulled Allura close to him and bent her over his shoulder. Keith took a deep breath before bracing himself for the strain on his body as he tried to get back up. 

He stumbled on his feet as he tried to gain his balance, once he did, however, he sprinted towards the direction he came from. Ablazed pieces of the surrounding structures from the destroyed robeast started crumbling down all around them.

He dodged them, though he felt the black fabric of his uniform that covered his mouth slip off and he was inhaling the smoke again. His eyes watered more and more with each second smoke was exposed to him. 

“Keith!” The combined yells of the comrades led Keith towards them.

“Allura!” Keith looked in front of him and blinked away the tears in his eyes to see a huge chunk of melting metal blocking his path and, by the sound of their voices, the paladins are right behind that.

Keith roared, his feet carrying him faster and faster and, by some sort of miracle, he leaped and cleared the fallen debris.

His landing, however, wasn’t so graceful. His legs gave up on him when they hit the floor and he tumbled on the floor and landed on top of Allura, Honerva landing a few feet away.

Keith could hear the footsteps of his teammates running towards them, but he wasn’t able to greet them properly once he started coughing violently, black mucus falling on the ground in front of him.

“Ew, man. Listen, I’m glad you’re alive but it looks like you crawled out of hell,” Lance commented.

Keith rolled his eyes and was about to retort when he sees that Allura’s chest wasn’t rising nor falling, “No.”

Keith laid his head down in between Allura’s breasts on her chest plate and listened for the rhythmic beating of a heart. Instead, he found nothing. His eyes widened and he quickly lifted Allura into a sitting position, desperately throwing her chest plate off of her. 

“Keith?” Hunk asked, the three of them watching with concern.

“She isn’t breathing!” Once he got it off, he did the same again and his eyes widened when he heard nothing again.

“That final blow must have been too much for her! She may have run out of quintessence!” Pidge hypothesized as she knelt beside Keith, fear creeping up into everyone’s hearts as they see Allura grow paler with each second.

“Pidge! Call Shiro! Get him over here with the medics!” Keith ordered, wiping his face clean of the soot with his uniform and taking off his chest plate.

“I can’t,” Pidge admitted solemnly, “Honerva cut off our communication link with the Garrison during our fight.”

“No, no, no!” Keith mumbles as he interlaces his hands together and pushes down in the middle of Allura’s chest, hoping human CPR is the same as Altean CPR.

As Keith pumped, the three Paladins sat in fear, their eyes watering and wide as they watch their leader desperately revive their already dead friend.

Lance, tears dribbling down his cheeks, placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, “Keith, she’s-”

“Allura!” Keith’s scream shoved Lance’s consolation down his throat and he stepped away from Keith.

Keith continued pumping, but nothing was happening and tears started pouring down his cheeks. This sight, a soot-covered, unresponsive body dying in his arms, was exactly like how his father died and he was having none of it.

Keith moved on to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but nothing was working.

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were all silently crying now. Their shoulders shaking and their tears freely falling down their cheeks and the three of them held on to one of her hands; the very same hands that saved them from Honerva’s wrath.

“Allura, please,” Keith’s broken plea tumbled off his lips like a prayer.

“Allura.” This time, his voice sounded stern, as if it were a sort of command.

“Allura!” Keith’s desperate scream drowned out the dying roar of the flames behind them and echoed into the distance, his cry resonating deep within the other three Paladins.

Keith finally let go, resigning his feeble attempts to save her and he bowed his head, allowing the hot tears to escape and pour down his cheeks, “Allura.”

His broken whisper had no more energy, it was a tired, desperate utterance of a name owned by a person he loves.

“Keith.”

For a moment, Keith thought it was her. It sounded just like her; heck, it even held the same softness only she’s used. 

“Keith.”

Keith’s eyes shot open. Now he was sure that it was her. He was right. He wasn’t kneeling on the ground in the burning battlefield anymore, he stood in the middle of a green field surrounded by faraway mountains. Pink flowers surrounded him and a sweet scent that reminded him of Allura filled his nostrils.

Warmth embraced him once he laid eyes upon her. It was her. She stood before him, wearing an elegant, blue dress accented with teal and gold, not the one she wore when they all first met. A shining crown sat atop her head, a gorgeous crystal beaming down on him as it reflected the bright light of the sun. Her hair was down again, a sight he hasn’t seen in a year, and her wavy, silver tresses came tumbling down by her waist.

His mouth fell open at her beauty, his eyes shining and his tears drying. He was at peace. She was alive.

“Allura,” the word seemed almost like a name too angelic to say. She was alive.

Allura beamed, the smile doing more to Keith than it ever has before, and she chuckled, “Now, don’t make that face, Keith. It’s alright, I’m home.”

At those words, two figures appeared behind her. King Alfor and a woman who Allura resembled closely. Countless other Alteans materialized behind the trio, all of them beaming brightly at their princess.

Keith’s jaw fell open, speechless, and he whispered, “Home?”

Allura nodded, though her smile wavered, “Well, all I’m missing is you, Pidge, Lance, Hunk, Shiro…”

“And Coran and everyone in the Voltron Coalition!” Keith insisted, his voice raising up a bit at the end.

Allura faltered, doubt evident in her eyes and her smile. Keith took this as a cue to continue and took a step closer, “What about us? You told us we were your new family.”

Allura gasped as people materialized behind Keith. Coran, Shiro and the rest of the Paladins were first, all standing directly behind Keith and smiling. Allura’s jaw opened and her tears began pooling at her eyes. Keith took another step towards her, “Do you really think your death won’t be mourned? Allura the world would mourn you: our savior.”

Allura turned her face away from Keith and her tears poured down her cheeks. Suddenly, a gloved hand lifted her chin and forced her to look at him in the eyes, “I’ve never really been good at words. So I can’t exactly make a moving speech to convince you to stay. But I know what you’re thinking, Allura. If I was in your position a few years ago, I would have given up and gone with my dad.”

Allura’s eyes widened when she sees a tall man materialize behind Keith before immediately fading away, the warm look in his eyes the same as Keith’s. 

“But now, the thought wouldn’t even come to mind. All my experiences as a Paladin of Voltron changed my life completely, that I am almost the complete opposite of who I was before I met you guys.”

Allura smiled as orbs of memories floated around them, the people behind them fading away. She laughed as she saw the memory of their first training day when they all had a food fight, cried when she sees all of them sync together to form Voltron, smiles when she sees all of them standing triumphantly overlooking a sunset after one of their battles. 

She gasps when she sees her hug Keith after her apology.

“You changed me, Allura,” Keith whispered. He extended his hands towards her and pleaded, “Please come back to us.”

Allura paused, the people behind them reappearing, and turned around to face her parents. They no longer wore a smiling face, but rather an understanding face and they gave her an approving smile.

With a smile and wiping away her tears, Allura chuckled and nodded, “Okay.”

Keith exhaled a breath of relief when Allura placed her small hands into his and he squeezed it. 

Suddenly, a bright light surrounded them and they both looked around in surprise. “What’s happening?” Allura asked. Keith stayed quiet, but he felt the same. 

Suddenly, the light became so bright they were blinded and forced them to close their eyes.

Keith opened his eyes again and found himself kneeling beside Allura again, his hands on her temple and a red aura around them dissolving. He slowly removed his hands from Allura’s head and sat still, watching her with heavy anticipation.

“What the cheese? Did Keith just glow red or was that just me?” Lance questioned glancing between Allura and Keith.

The team stayed quiet, however, and watched the princess carefully. Suddenly, Allura shot up and hit Keith square in the nose, causing him to fall back clutching his nose. 

“Allura!” Lance, Pidge, and Hunk yelled simultaneously, their mouths hanging open when Allura looked back at them with relief in her eyes.

“Pidge, Hunk, Lance!” Allura yelled, throwing herself on top of the three and embracing them in a bear crushing hug, “I’m alive!”

“You’re alive!” Hunk cheered, quickly freeing his arms enough so he could hug them all.

Allura was laughing cheerfully until she noticed that the one who saved her wasn’t in the group hug. She let go of the team and turned around to see Keith groaning and clutching his nose.

“Keith!”

Allura quickly crawled over to him, worry etched on her face, “I’m sorry did I hurt you badly?”

Keith shook his head, “No, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Allura exclaimed as she hugged Keith tight and straddled him and whispered, “Thank you.”

Keith returned the hug, “Thank you for coming back with me.”

The spectators watched the scene happily but confused. Lance leaned into Pidge, “Uh, what’s going on, Pidge?”

Pidge shrugged, “I'm not sure, but I think Keith did something similar to what Allura did for Shiro.”

Hunk nodded at the hypothesis and the trio resumed to watching their fellow Paladins embrace.

Allura pulled away from the hug and joined their foreheads, a small giggle surfacing from her lips. Her hands placed themselves on his face and her thumbs began to wipe away the smudges of soot on Keith’s cheeks, “You’re so dirty.”

Keith didn’t have words. He was just relieved that she was alive and was breathless that she was so close to him.

Allura however, took advantage of his silence and moved her thumbs to wipe away the soot from his lips. In an instant, she closed her eyes and closed the gap between them. Keith immediately responded, his hands placing themselves on her waist and closing his eyes, ignoring the confused cries of his teammates.

Their kiss was soft and lasted for a few seconds before Allura pulled away. However, she didn't get much of a breather when Keith pulled her in again and ravished her mouth, tilting his head to the right to get a better angle as he sucked on her bottom lip.

“I thought I lost you,” Keith whispered against her lips. Allura could taste someone’s tears, but she’s sure it both of theirs. She grabbed Keith’s hair and pulled him closer to close the distance between them even more, “I’m here, now. Thanks to you.”

Keith pulled away and joined their foreheads, biting his lips in such a way that Allura was going to swoon in his arms. Allura breathed and chuckled, “It’s over.”

Keith nodded and chuckled too, “The war’s over.”

Allura looked down at Keith and looked down at his kiss-swollen, red lips before giving them one last kiss. This one was long and languid, both of them taking their time with each other and exploring each other’s mouths with their curious tongues.

“Listen, as glad as we are to see you two got together-”

“-We’re really not.”

“Shut up, Lance. There are lots of Garrison trucks coming over here and I’m pretty sure that two prominent leaders of the war effort shouldn’t be seen making out.”

Send me a kiss prompt and a pairing!

[aclamclriver]

cravings ii

part:  2/6 rating:  r summary:  desire is a  weakness,  but even so  …  kylo has a taste for you he just can’t ignore. prologue | part one

it takes you only a little while to realize you’re being watched.

you’re used to scrutiny,  of course.  from the moment you stepped on board this ship,  eyes have followed your every move.  in the beginning,  you nearly cracked under the pressure       how could anyone live with such glares on them,  every day,  every single second?  scrutinized for the faintest hint of rebellion,  resistance,  treachery.  the air is thick with suspicion,  and the weak turn on each other,  weeding themselves out       and you are so afraid of being weak.

but slowly,  you find your way through the intrigue.  you grit your teeth and straighten your back,  unflinchingly perfect for an order that demands absolute perfection in every action;  you leave no room for complaint.  hostility is replaced with grudging approval,  and then hard-won  respect.  thrown into the fire,  you only came out stronger       and if that’s not always how you feel,  it’s certainly the only image you present.

as a lieutenant,  you are impeccable,  and there is some reward in finally reaching so far.  though the pressure is as intense as always,  you’ve demonstrated your loyalty enough to be given some room to breathe.  there’s no room for personality in the first order,  but some of yours shines through nonetheless.  perhaps you’ve grown cocky with your success,  or mischievous in your rise,  but all the same       you get the job done,  and you get it done  well  ( and with  far  less damage than the famously temperamental commander ).

you don’t pay much mind to the aforementiond’s presence if it can be helped.  he is a frightening figure at the best of time,  and his violence when angered has struck down more than one of your comrades.  since he hardly ever interacts with anyone besides his knights,  and  ( on furious occasions ),  hux,  you’ve never had to speak with him directly;  when he arrives on the bridge,  you’re usually engaged in your own work as it is.

though his interactions with hux are almost always volatile,  you’ve learned to tune them out as best you can;  you’re not sure what draws your attention to them that particular day.  their voices are muted       commander ren’s is garbled through his mask,  and hux’s is barely above a hiss,  his face growing red with his annoyance.  as you watch,  the general makes an expansive gesture with his arm,  as if sweeping something away,  and you quickly look down to your work,  lest he catch you staring.  when you chance a look once more,  hux is gone,  but ren is looking directly at you.

your breath catches in your throat.  though ren’s eyes are invisible behind his mask,  there is no doubt in your mind that you are directly in his gaze.  you dearly want to slide your eyes past him,  pretend that he has not caught you staring,  but you know better than to try.  instead,  you offer him a tight-lipped nod,  your fingers curled into the fabric of your jacket,  and squeezing tight.

“lieutenant [l/n],”  crackles out of the modulator,  and your gut nearly contracts itself in half;  beside you,  your fellow officers have done their best to blend into the control panel.  “to me.”

now is the time for your magic trick       though your legs want to quake,  and your heart is doing flips inside your chest,  you rise steadily to your feet and walk,  seemingly unperturbed,  to the commander.  your face is impassive,  your entire form held at attention for his orders;  no one need know that you are thinking how easy it would be,  for that lightsaber of his to cut through your torso like a soft stick of butter.

“i’ve been informed that you are compiling the logistics and launching the assault on deusen 9,”  he says without preamble,  and you try to hide your surprise.  you’ve never known kylo ren to inquire about the missions;  if he’s involved at all,  it usually involves just showing up.  

“yes,  sir.  i am project leader.”

“myself and two of my fellow knights will be joining in,”  the hiss of air coming from the module whenever ren speaks is distracting;  it’s impossible to tell by tone where he’s leading you.  “i’ll be coordinating with you on the point of attack.”

“of course,  sir.”  you lift your holopad with all the air of professional indifference,  mind scrambling.  deusen 9 is a guarded planet,  to be sure,  but it’s hardly worth the efforts of  one  knight of ren,  let alone three  ...  and its leader,  at that.  there’s no jedi activity,  and your storm troopers are more than qualified to handle any retaliatory action.  “is there any additional information you will need me to process?”

“no.  show me the entry point.”

all of this through the blank face of his mask,  which remains directed at your face.  you wonder if he blinks back there.

“of course,  sir.”  you flick your fingers over the controls before you,  bringing up the map of deusen 9 you’ve compiled from weeks of painstaking research.  weeks of reconnaissance mission,  data scavenging,  endless reaffirmation trips       you’re fairly certain you could remake the map in your sleep.

“the entry point will be through the sector outlined here,  sir.”  as you lean forward,  a loose tendril of hair slips from your bun,  curling over your cheek;  you absentmindedly tuck it behind your ear,  unaware of the way ren’s mask seems to follow the movement.  “as we enter orbit,  we expect that aerial bombardment will breach the upper atmosphere.  our ships are well equipped to deal with the barrage,  so it’s only a matter of holding up the shield generators long enough to deploy our first wave of attackers.  from there,  we can shut down their defense system,  and take control of their mining operations.  it’s not the resistance’s only supplier,  but it’ll hit them hard enough to feel,  and it’ll be a boon for our own operations.”

“good.”  from him,  the word is high praise indeed,  and you bite back a smile that threatens to slip across your face.  “see to it that operations are ready to go within 48 hours.”

“of course.  am i dismissed,  sir?”

for some reason,  ren does not answer immediately.  you look into the blank eyes of his mask,  waiting for the permission that rules the lives of you and your fellow officers,  and find yourself in silence.  have you somehow broken rank?  disrespected him?  what is he waiting for?

“you are,”  he says at last,  and you could almost melt with relief.  with a smart salute,  you turn on your heel,  resisting the urge to power-walk through the bridge until you’re far away from that blank expression,  that wheezing crackle of static.  there is something deeply unsettling about kylo ren at the best of times       you aren’t eager to find out what he’s like at the worst.

though you can’t tell through the mask,  you are certain he watches you leave.

he shouldn’t have done that.

the refresher overhead squeals with the sudden pressure of pouring water,  and kylo hisses as the ice-cold stream hits his skin.  he had only meant to observe you,  as usual       to watch you work,  to catch perhaps another snippet of your laughter.  just for a moment,  nothing more       and then you had looked directly at him.

his stomach had  lurched.  like a child with his first crush,  he had felt himself falter under your gaze,  exposed,  even with the safety of his mask.  so calm,  so cooly collected       you looked perfectly polished and impeccably unperturbed,  and it was only when he had called you over that he could hear the scattered thoughts bouncing wild in your mind.  

he frightened you.  he  intimidated  you.  he had absolute power over you,  and you knew it.

he hadn’t meant to drag it out,  but your presence was intoxicating,  your whir of thoughts exhilarating.  you were close enough that he could smell the faint scent of detergent and something soft,  decidedly feminine;  your hair was impeccably presented,  but that one strand       and even as he watched you tuck it back,  he had thought,  irresistibly,  of how it would look spread out across his pillows,  tangled in his hands as you gasped out his name. 

this was getting to be a problem.

his cock is hard,  and no amount of cold water is helping.  with a grunt,  kylo drags his hand down his length,  thinking of the way your eyes had darted to meet his,  even through the coverings of his mask.  the line of your throat had been exposed by the cut of your jacket,  and kylo thinks how brilliantly it would show a bruise,  how  easy  it would be to kiss you there,  and leave a mark.  

more,  his body demands.  

his knees bend slightly,  one hand braced against the wall as he pumps his cock.  it’s not enough       he wants to feel the warmth of your mouth,  the scrape of your teeth on his skin.  he wants to splatter his cum on your face,  watch you clean it up with your tongue;  he wants to bend you over the technician's table,  and  fuck you.  the way your voice sounds,  so perfectly controlled,  so easily modulated       to have you scream his name,  to see you claw at the surface of his desk as he slams inside you.  to have his cum drip down your legs,  to bite your lips until they’re red and raw and your eyes are hazy with lust.  to have you marked as  his.

he twists his hand and cums with a shout,  chest heaving with the exertion.  the water is freezing cold,  but he makes no move stop it.

you had smiled,  he remembered.  quick,  gone in a flash,  but still       you had smiled.  

he wonders how he can make you smile again.

[larkwinters-a]

It was a nightmare that woke him up. 

There was, however, no jerking up, no screaming. He was simply forced awake by the images he had seen, the actions he’d seen himself carry out, and it’d been too much, so much so that he had to force himself back into consciousness too soon. 

It couldn’t have been more than three or four hours since they had settled into the too big bed, the events from that day heavy on their minds, but they had gone about ignoring it for as long as they possibly could. It’d worked, because they had both managed to fall asleep, their room was only illuminated by a sliver of light, from where the heavy curtains weren’t fully closed.

Right now, however, the room was dark. Fear struck his chest in a way Lark didn’t want to think about and one thought rang in his mind; you’re back there. 

And he might have believed it, if it were not for the bed beneath his back and the girl sharing said bed with him.

Ruby was still asleep, would still be asleep four another three hours or so, and was something solid against him. He’d forgotten what it was like to share a bed with someone and it was something he had sorely missed. Their tangled bodies might not have been tangled like they had been before, with them both changed in different ways -- he could see the light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks -- and how only his left arm was tucked around her, holding her close to his chest. She was breathing softly, sleep rendering her features soft and neutral. 

He moved his arm from around her and lifted it to her face. His fingers barely touched her hair as he brushed them through it. His hand came to a rest at her cheek, his thumb stroked along her cheekbone. They were small gestures that would have meant nothing had this just been another day of them waking up in one of their dorm rooms, with them having crashed there because it had been too hard to separate even for a few necessary hours of sleep. 

The kids they had been back then would have had no idea what they would have to go through. The Lark he was then had no idea the pain he would cause her, despite how hard he had tried not to. The Lark he was now understood the pain he had caused her as much as he could and he couldn’t -- wouldn’t think about how she still had chosen him. If he thought about that, he would take himself down on a spiral he wouldn’t be able to get back up from. 

As much as Lark was scared of her seeing the parts of him he was trying so hard to keep hidden, he knew he would never have been able to live without her. Especially now, when he needed her more than he could care to admit. More than he was able to admit. In all of the bad things that had happened over the past year, the things he had forgotten and the things he could remember in vivid detail, there had only been one person he had wanted, one thing he had wanted, and that had been her and her embrace. He wouldn’t have chased that away, no matter how badly he was pushing his feelings down, sealing them into a bottle that was already spilling over. 

He needed her around, he couldn’t live without her.

But right now, he had to. 

He was quiet and careful as he slipped out of the bed. His bare feet padded softly against the marble floor as he crossed the room and pulled open one of the wardrobes that were built into the wall of the room. There was nothing inside and he wasn’t exactly in the mood, or right activity, to put on his sweater again. A plan formed in his mind.

With one last glance in Ruby’s direction, to where she was still sleeping in bed, he slipped out of the room. The door closed with a soft hiss and Lark quietly made his way down the corridor. No lights were on and he could see that each door of the four rooms they had been given were tightly shut. The rest of their group were still sound asleep and he knew it’d stay that way. They had just travelled light years in a day, they had just spent the day collecting their lions and having their time filled with non stop action. It was only natural that they would need plenty of sleep.

Lark should have needed plenty of sleep too but he had been conditioned so thoroughly to run on only three hours of sleep, that getting any more felt like it would have been an act of destruction. Why should he sleep any longer than he needed when his mind could be alert and functioning on only three hours?

The joke here was, that he was never alert or functioning on only three hours of sleep, he was always running on fumes, always mere moments from his engine giving out. It was something that needed hidden, because he had already been stripped back to his shell. He was nothing but a bare structure and mechanics that had been badly duct taped together in a vain attempt to make him resemble a human being. 

Lark wasn’t sure what he was anymore. 

A pilot or a leader or a friend or a boyfriend? None of the titles seemed to fit him correctly anymore, they were masks, strapped onto his face, to hide the cracked and torn apart mess underneath it. If he let one slip, they would see his true self, they would look through his skin like it was transparent. They would see right into his inner organs and they would see bruises and scars and injuries he couldn’t explain without wanting to puke. 

And perhaps, the worst part of this, was that his question was answered when he stumbled upon his destination. 

He moved into the gym. It was a large white room that was a few meters big, large enough to rival the gym at the Garrison. On the far side of the room, there was a observation centre, for people to observe those who trained in here and that made Lark feel sick. He decided not to dwell on it and he crossed the room, dust swirling around his feet as he walked across the mats. They were squishy yet cracked under his weight, they hadn’t been used in years. 

On the same wall that held the window for the observation centre, there was two large double doors. One the side, there was a plaque that was written in an alien language, but Lark guessed it said equipment. The other door in the gym wasn’t nearly big enough. He yanked one door open and walked into a cupboard the size of a room. There was many shelves, a sort of translucent blue in colour, and Lark walked along it until he found the two things he needed. 

The first of which was the work out gear. Official Altean training uniforms that he plucked a t-shirt from. It was supposed to be his typical size but he found out fairly quickly that he has grown in the past year. His muscles were bigger, his scarred chest and stomach were more firm, firmer than he’d ever been. The t-shirt was tight, stretching over his chest and one wrong move would allow anyone who looked at him to see his stomach muscles. His arms were left exposed, the t-shirt was sleeveless. He didn’t have many qualms about that in the moment, no one else was awake. They wouldn’t find him in here and they wouldn’t stare.

The second item he had retrieved was athletic tape. He idly wrapped it around his left hand and wrist as he left the cupboard, making his way back into the gym. The once dark room lit up then, the artificial lights flickering on. The wall across from him remained dark, panels closed over it. Lark squinted and walked over to it. He pressed his newly wrapped hand -- the right one didn’t need it now -- to one of the panels and they shuddered and creaked before opening.

Lark took a few steps back and watched for the few seconds it took for the panels to recede completely. What he was now looking at was a wall made up completely of arched windows. There was a meter or so of brick at the top, meeting where the windows curved. Lark sucked in a sharp breath, it’d been a long time since he’d last seen a view like this. His eyes flitted over the view of the new planet, the green horizon and the trees that lined it. It was beautiful and he was about to tear his gaze away, when he saw it. 

The sun had begun to poke it’s way out, slowly rising up in the sky. It was a sunrise. He hadn’t seen one in a year.

The sky was a spread of colours; a pale yellow where the sun was rising that mingled in with the pinks and oranges that spread through, tinged towards the top with purple were the darkness of night was receding into a pale blue. It looked surreal, it looked just like how he could vaguely remember the ones on earth looking and he felt his heart begin to race. He couldn’t breathe. 

Lark took a step and then another two back. It was overwhelming, it was too much all at once. He had seen the sky, a pale blue outlined by the rocky perches of the Arizona desert, when he had stepped outside of Ruby’s cabin, he had seen the sheet of blue, barely marked with a cloud, and that had been fine; he was used to a monochromatic sky, one colour covering the entire base. But this, this was colourful and vibrant and full of life and it reminded him just how much he had lost and missed in a year. 

His lungs squeezed painfully; tears pooled in the corner of his eyes and then --

“Please select a training method.”

Lark spun, his hands instinctively curling into fists and they were held up, ready to attack. With wide eyes, he searched for the enemy but there was no one in the room with him. It was just himself, with the sunset behind him, casting shades of pink and orange on his pale skin. 

Seconds passed and Lark didn’t budge, he waited for a sign that someone was about to attack, perhaps they were hidden, when the message repeated itself. Robotic and lacking life, Lark realised it was an AI. His hands dropped to his sides and he felt foolish for reacting in such a manner. He shook his head, the momentum brushing his hair from his eyes. 

“Just uh, --” His voice was hoarse, a result of the sleep. “-- I just wanna hit something.”

“Training method 002 selected.” The AI responded.

A moment later, the wall on the far end of the room shifted, a door sliding open and Lark tilted his head to the side. It was too dark to see inside but a moment later a _ appeared. A small huh left him as it shuddered to a stop two feet in front of him. The energy holding it up was a beam of blue light, that looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t pin point why, and he walked over, pressing his wrapped hand against it. He pushed the it and it shook but the beam didn’t budge. It was some kind of alien technology. 

A small smile twitched at his lips. “Oh, that’s cool.”

“There are different ways in which the Altean training routines can help improve your physique.” The AI said. “May we suggest --”

“I’m good,” he said. “Thanks.”

The AI fell silent and Lark’s fist shot out and hit the bag. It swung back at him and he met it with another hit. And then another, the sounds of skin and metal hitting the vinyl in a rain of pent up emotions. He didn’t break a sweat, it would take more than some physical exertion to make him do that now. It was almost funny to him just how much he had changed, both mentally and physically. Almost. 

He hit it for what seemed like a while, truthfully, he still had no idea how time passed, he had no idea what time it was save for it being early. He didn’t know if this planet had a different way of calculating time. It threw him through a loop or two. Maybe it was a good thing he was back in space, now he wouldn’t have to bother people with his inability to readjust to natural gravity and oxygen and a time scale. He was less of a burden in space.

His first struck the bag again and it rattled in place, swinging wildly and he had to step to the side, to avoid being hit by it. It was back and forth a couple of time and when it began to slow down, he got it with his hand, his black fingers digging into the vinyl in an vain attempt to rip it apart. He was still trying to suppress those urges, he had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t expected to fight here. At least, not in the way he had previously. 

“You seem like a great fighter,” The distinct accent filled the room. “How long have you been training for?”

Lark slid his gaze over to Hunter. His fingertips dug deeper into the bag. “Garrison. Combat Training. It was mandatory.”

Hunter nodded and a smirk toyed at his lips. “I was a Military Combatant for many years back on Altea. I would have been a great Troop leader, if I hadn’t become King Alfor’s right hand man.”

“You must miss Altea a great deal.” Lark said.

Hunter shrugged. His eyes flicked down, to the scars on Lark’s arm and then back up, like he had remembered it was impolite to stare. “Ten thousand years goes by like that,” he clicked his fingers. “I’m focusing on the present. Do you miss Earth?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t dwell on the notion that Earth was still there, that he hadn’t been there for a year and when he had been, it’d only caused him to be treated like Patient Zero in an outbreak, it had only been for a few hours. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to see his family. That hurt more than he wanted it to.

“You must have people you miss, though?” Lark asked. “Friends, a family?”

“I found friends and a family with the royals.” Hunter said. “I do remember the day Maia was born, it was such a big celebration. I got far too drunk. There was a lot of brawling. I mostly won.”

Lark raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He didn’t answer, but someone else did.

“As I recall,” Maia’s soft voice said. “You were punched a dozen or, was it, a hundred times that day?”

“It was a celebration.” Hunter scoffed. “I was celebrating!”

“Mhm.” Maia nodded, a sly grin on her face.

Lark looked between them for a moment and felt a burst of concern. “What are you guys doing up so early?”

“It’s only 9am.” Hunter said, incredulously. He didn’t realise how glad Lark was to have the time. “Us Alteans don’t require as much sleep.”

“We went to bed early.” Maia said. “Yesterday was a long day for all of us and I got up early to start scanning for the Red lion. Hunter got up because he’s, well, Hunter.”

Lark nodded, slowly. “You shouldn’t sacrifice your sleep for that. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself.” Maia said. “I’ll be fine. I just want to have all of the lions here, to be able to have Voltron once more.”

Lark licked his lips. He hadn’t given much thought to the lions since he had woken up. He couldn’t, not without fearing the inevitable. The Black lion has been described as everything Lark wanted to be, the things his heart wanted him to be. But he wasn’t those things and he couldn’t pretend that he was. And everyone would find out, they would see when they got their lions and he presented himself to Black. She would reject him. She wouldn’t want a monster piloting her. 

“Voltron back in the playing field?” Hunter asked and then barked a laugh. “The Galra won’t stand a chance.”

“It won’t be that simple.” Maia reminded him. “This isn’t a bar fight during the Juniper berry celebrations.”

“And I did great in those bars fights!” Hunter protested. “You should have seen my mean right hook.”

Maia glanced to Lark. She rolled her eyes and he flashed her a false, small smile before casting his gaze elsewhere. To anyone else it would have been extremely fascinating to hear two aliens talk about their lives, about their culture, but Lark had heard it before, so many times within the past year. And usually, they were arguing about his life. 

“My father wasn’t too happy about you getting into those fights,” Maia told him. “You were a joke.”

She began to leave, making her way out of the room. Hunter turned around to look at her, his hands on his hips.

“I’ll have you know I was a champion bar fighter!” he called after her. “Everyone wanted a piece of me!”

A sharp, involuntary gasp left Lark then. His gaze snapped to Hunter. It was too late to say or do anything, however, because he was scurrying after Maia, no doubt arguing his case. Lark, in the meantime, felt like someone had just punched him in the chest. And he knew exactly what that felt like. He took a step back and the mat squished under his footsteps. 

One simple word shouldn’t have gotten to him like that, he knew it. He felt pathetic, for being so weak that he was taken out like that. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the panic and memories to leave him alone. A voice in his head told him what he needed but instead of listening to it, he balled his hands into fists and then lashed out.

His right fist hung where the bag hand, where it had hovered from it’s previously thought unbreakable hold, and it was gone, swallowed up by the ground -- which, what the fuck? -- and Lark let out another breath. 

A second later, he fled the room. 

He walked quickly back down the route he had come down hours previously, tugging the tape from his hand and he was back at their room quicker than he had left. The door slid open, he walked in, and dumped the tape on the floor. He shook his hand out as he crossed the room, going back to their bed.

Ruby was still there, still asleep and the sight was enough to calm him down. The panic fled from his mind and he slid back into the bed with her. And unlike when he had first woken up, he couldn’t wait for her to do so. He reached out, with his left hand, and gently shook her, stirring her from her sleep. He should have and did feel bad for it. She needed sleep, she was accustom to the short time he was, and it was selfish of him to put his needs before hers. 

“Hey,” he said, when she turned to look at him, brown eyes deep and clouded with sleep. She’d still be groggy. “I missed you.” 

I need you, he didn’t say, I need you to tell me it’s okay.

He slid down onto the bed then, his right arm tucked under his head and his left wrapped around her once more, bringing her to his chest. For a moment, he did nothing. He felt his nerves continue to burn and so, he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, softly. “Looks like we’re not on Earth anymore, Roo.”

[solo-trio]

The Fate of the Empress

Kylo x Reader ( Ch. 1)

A/N: This is the start of a story I hope to continue in the future. This story does and will contain STAR WARS THE LAST JEDI SPOILERS so please don’t read if you’re trying to avoid them.

Words: 1.5 K

Warnings: Spoilers, none

Draw near, the dread does- Ch. 1

You lounged on Kylo’s couch, waiting for him to return. Your fingertips mindlessly scrolled through different news sites while your eyes retained nothing they read. It was minutes now before the man you had come to adore so much would return. The events that had recently transpired had him on a more dangerous ledge than you ever thought he’d reach. Due to the defeat to the scavenger and the destruction of Starkiller Base, your significant other was weighed down by more negative energy than any being should endure. His explosive personality damaged more than just control panels these days. Half driven by a selfish need to be near him and a want to do everything in your power for him, you had placed yourself at his convenience every moment you could. More times than not you were grateful to be there to stop him from whatever his mind had convinced him was the only way to recover from the sting of snokes words. You found today to be another example of how abused Kylo Ren was at the hands of his so called master. 

Your neck snapped up, eyes bright, to greet Kylo as you heard the door to the chambers slide open. His completely obliterated mask was the first thing you noticed. It shed pieces with each of his heavy steps. This was the last thing you’d expected to see. You knew how much Kylo had relied on his mask and the shambles of metal it was presently spoke volumes to you about how Kylo must be feeling on the inside. You recalled all the beautiful memories between you two that the mask had appeared in. It was similar to a security blanket for him. Wanting the brooding prince to feel as comfortable as possible you had welcomed the cold menacing mask. Knowing you would never see him proudly wear it again saddened you. 

Worried for your lover, you rushed up to him. The holopad falling to the floor rung out, echoing across the silent room. A message you fully intended to ignore binged through the speakers. Kylo had stopped himself in the middle of the room,halfway to you. His eyes looked down but not at the mask. His exhaling was even and his face appeared unwrinkled by any signs of distress. The only thing giving him away was the hummingbird speed of which his empty hand was shaking. You stood close to him, but far enough so he could breath. “What happened”, you looked up at him, whispering, hoping to coax an explanation rather than suffocate him with a demand for an answer. You inhaled a deep breath scared of what may erupt from him. With this breath, your nose tickled at the slight smell of smoke, something charred. You peered from his face to his clothing and ran your hand over the fabric on his chest feeling slightly crisp material. “That fucking-“ you turned and went to kill Snoke. Your fury burning your throat with every puff of your chest. Your fierce instinct had you out for blood for anyone who dare harm your commander. Snoke had recently been abusing Kylo far more than before and you were sick and tired of watching the love of your life endure it. You would’ve traded anything to take the pain for him, instead of him. Before you could even take two steps Kylo grabbed your arm. 

“Don’t be stupid” he advised from behind you. You couldn’t kill Snoke. You had no power and no plan but you knew in that second, that if you could have had your way, you would’ve enjoyed watching Snoke tortured in the most horrid ways possible. Realizing Kylo was right and there was nothing you could do against the powerful force user, you fell back to the reality where you did have power. You pulled Kylo into a tight hug. Tears fell from your eyes for him.

 “I’m so sorry. It’s not right. You should never have to- I should’ve “ your thoughts sputtered out of your mouth incoherently. In that moment, Kylo enveloped you with his arms and shared your hug. He had never had anyone feel so much for him. While he barely spoke four words you had already shown your weakness for him and Kylo never felt more complete. You never assumed Kylo was in the wrong and you fought for him, against all the things he endured. He held your shaking frame as all the emotions he had bottled up inside were illustrated by you, felt by you. He never once thought of you as disposable but it was moments like these he would only think of you as his soulmate and nothing less. “It has to be soon. I can’t take seeing Snoke treat you this way any longer” you reached up to caress Kylo’s unscarred cheek. He smiled sadly upon you, reassuring you that the time was soon for the future to begin. He dropped his mask and it crumpled into itself as it hit the solid, shiny, black ground. The urge to bring up hurrying the plan pushed at your mind strongly, but Kylo had endured enough today. There would be tomorrow to address it. You and your knight deserved a night of unwinding while intertwined together. After you brushed back his hair trying to make light, you let a hint of your playfulness reveal itself. “Well at least now I can see your face all the time” you rose to your tiptoes. Kylo furthered your journey towards his lips by lifting you gently at the waist and holding you tightly to him while chuckling at your joke. After your heartbeat went crazy and Kylo had gifted you with a another show of affection, He broke from the kiss. 

“Supreme leader is planning something. I can’t tell but I feel it may give me an edge against him” Kylo divulged. Watching him, you saw his gaze far off and searching. You deduced he was looking for a string to hint at this plan he mentioned. While this news should have propelled you on towards the hope of success, your stomach plummeted. You couldn’t explain the acid sloshing in your stomach or the bile rising in your throat but the moment he said those words you were pulled into shackles of hesitation and fear.

 “No” you said, suddenly out of breath. At this he set you down and stepped back moving to go about undressing and getting ready for bed. 

“What’s wrong? My connection to the force tells me it will be the change we need to reign” he asked, eyebrows arching while his hands slid his cape from his shoulders. You agreed with him in your mind but everything in your body felt leaded down by his optimism. 

“Kylo… Snoke planning something… that’ll help us? That doesn’t sound right at all.” you stood in the middle of the room trying to make sense of your bodies reaction. Kylo approached you agreeing with how odd it sounded but he asked you to trust him. Once those words poured from his lips, you forced all negative feelings away and welcomed a soothing calm to your veins. You trusted him. His tie with the force you always believed was strong. You supported him. So you smiled and expressed relief, which in turn, encouraged him. 

You lived out the night. Kylo in a much better mood than during his arrival to your chambers. You laughed, talked, and cuddled with him until he fell asleep. You looked over his features lovingly, praying no more harm would come to him. You placed your lips against his cool freckled skin. Recalling your ignored message on the holopad, you got up. Kylo mumbled, reaching for you as your warmth deserted him. You squeezed his hand, promising a quick return. Scooping up the tech, you sat on the couch briefly. The message was from your best friend. He never messaged you this late or when he knew you were happily stuck to Kylo’s side. The message was delivered and a notification appeared on your screen though. You clicked open the message from General Hux. The words didn’t signal any distress but the existence of the message confirmed to you the need of your presence. You laid down as close to Kylo as possible to try to warn away your stress. Despite your intent to sleep, Your lover’s words echoed through you. “Supreme leader is planning something” your minds voice repeated until a familiar dread had reappeared deep in your soul prolonging your sleeplessness to the level that Kylo experienced.

 He woke up after two hours while you were still coherent. He clung to you as if your form would soon turn to sand and slip through his grasp. “I’ll make everything right I promise” he whispered to you, struggling with the reality that he had not yet made your world perfect. 

“I’ve never believed anything else” you comforted him, knowing how often he doubted himself. You both sat silent, staring lovingly at the other. Your fingers brushed softly against every reachable inch of the others skin into the hours of the approaching dawn. 

[ashinan]

again I went the sappy soft route because Keith’s birthday deserves soft, that boy deserves all the soft, so please enjoy this offering to the Voltron fandom. happy bday, space sweetheart.

home isn’t a place

The mission had gone well for once; Keith had slipped under the radar and planted the bug before the sentries had completed their second rotation. All information was being forwarded to the Blade. The trip back to the base was equally quiet, Keith settling in his seat as he set the flyer to autopilot. Another day, another mission, another stretch of time where Keith was left alone with his thoughts. Biting his lip, he flicked on the console, feeding it through a proxy before selecting the Voltron Coalition promotional videos.

The volume was muted, but Keith knew the words anyway. He’d watched the vids near obsessively, though it did little to fill the ache in his chest at acknowledging his team moving on without him. Shiro leapt into frame, striking a silly pose, and Allura followed after. The sequence was one well known: they would soon pick up the boxed forms of the Voltron Lions and defeat a papier-mâché Zarkon. Flashes of light flared across the screen. Keith tucked his feet up on the seat, chin resting on his knees as he took in his team. Exuberant. Content. Hilarious.

He scrubbed at his eyes.

The ship docked with a quiet hum and Keith shut everything down, wiping the consoles and tugging up his hood. As he swung down, Vrei was waiting for him, leaning against the far wall. Her hood was down, the sharp contours of her face cast primarily in shadow and elongating her nose. She’d decided on a slick salt and pepper Mohawk apparently. She perked up when Keith approached her.

“How’d it go, shortstuff?” she asked, reaching out for the data stick Keith handed her. “Injuries? Fatalities? Vex was surprised when everything remained quiet on the emergency comms.”

“Ha ha,” Keith deadpanned, smiling beneath his mask. Vrei ran her claws under Keith’s hood, scratching at the crown of his head, and Keith leaned into it. “Everything was fine. That should be enough data to tide Kolivan over for at least a few days.”

Vrei chuckled, tapping Keith’s hidden nose. “Have you learned nothing, kit? Leader is never satisfied. He’s always finding ways to make us more miserable.”

Tugging Keith along with her, Vrei led him further into the base. Other Blades wandered by, greeting them both with soft words or nonverbal nods. Vrei kept up a one-sided conversation, her voice low and calming, enough that Keith swayed more than once as fatigue settled in. Vrei caught him by the back of the neck, tucking him close to her side as she continued to talk, the rumble of her voice settling over Keith like a blanket.

The Blade sleeping quarters were close by. Vrei steered them toward it, even as Keith protested over missing the briefing. She scoffed at him, cuffing him gently, before offering to take the information to Kolivan herself. It wasn’t often that Keith was grateful for a break, too afraid of his own thoughts to truly want for quiet, but he leaned against Vrei in thanks. She laughed, pleased and purring.

Pausing at Keith’s assigned quarters, Vrei tugged the hood down and tapped at Keith’s forehead. The mask dematerialized. “Let’s get a look at that pretty face.” She tilted his chin up, glowing eyes scanning his features for anything damaged. Keith allowed it, clenching his jaw to stifle a yawn. Satisfied, Vrei nodded. “Now, there’s a comm and package in there for you, came in on the wire while you were undercover. Get some sleep, and for star’s sake take a shower. We’ll see you at meal prep.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, smiling when Vrei dropped her nose to Keith’s forehead before shoving him gently toward the door. It swished open, the dark interior fuzzily lit, before sliding closed behind him.

The Blade had provided him with quarters fit for Galra, not for humans. Well, not the human that Keith pretended to be. In the far corner was a makeshift ‘bed’, a collection of blankets and stuffed pillows that Keith had assembled into something comfortable. The Blade slept with small comforts, though Vrei and Vex had actively collected blankets and pillows from the other Blade members to gift to Keith when he’d first arrived. The gesture had endeared Keith to the both of them.  

Along the side wall near the refreshing room were a series of buttons and sliding panels, housing multiple Blade suits, the soft training outfits, and the only remaining clothes Keith had brought with him. Placed on one of the haphazardly arranged pillows was a comm unit, and beside it a sizeable metal container, tall enough that Keith would have to hop to sit on it.  

Sighing, Keith flopped down onto the bed, picking up the comm unit. If it was Kolivan sending him out again, then there was no point changing just yet. Swiping through to the messages, he scrolled by the general reports from other Blade, searching for anything from Kolivan. Instead, his fingers froze over a message from Voltron.

Sitting up, Keith opened it and tilted the comm unit down, allowing the holo projection to appear in front of him. Hunk and Pidge appeared first, faces too close and squished side by side, before Pidge shoved at Hunk’s cheek and the two of them stepped back. Lance squirmed his way into view. Shiro rolled his eyes behind the three of them, Allura at his side, and Coran yelled from somewhere off frame. With a sigh, Shiro yanked everyone into place, enough that the screen was viewing them all.

Keith scrubbed at his eyes again, balancing the comm unit on his knees as Coran slipped in beside Allura and they all shouted a greeting. Keith smiled, giddy warmth blooming beneath his breastbone. They talked over each other, voices a cacophonous mess that rang in Keith’s ears and settled his muddy thoughts, kicking his heart up. Pidge leapt forward, grabbing the camera and swinging it to her face.

“Listen, Keith, you have to tell Lance that he can’t keep running Red into asteroid fields. She’s going to eject him.”

“She is not!” Lance snapped, shoving Pidge down and out of sight. Her squawk of rage was muffled. “She loves me just as much as Blue does, thank you very much. But dude, dude, she is fast as hell. How you keep up is beyond me.”

Keith laughed, pulling the screen closer. His friends talked over each other, run on sentences bumping into fractured name calling coalescing into everyone just babbling about what Keith had missed. Shiro stood behind them all, a soft smile on his face as his gaze bounced from the group to meet Keith’s eyes, giving a slight wink when Hunk and Lance argued over the finer points of Lion tailgating. Keith reached up and touched the hologram, exhaling sharply when his fingers slid through and the image wavered. It distorted further as his gaze blurred; he dropped his head, hiding his eyes as he listened.

“We’ve sent you a package,” Allura said, talking over the squabble of Pidge, Lance, and Hunk. Keith glanced up. “Apologies, a ‘care’ package. We hope you enjoy it.”

“I threw in some puzzles and baked you some things. Hopefully, they’ve kept.” Hunk lifted a hand, counting off. “Cookies, a cake of some sort, those weird veggie stalks you’re into – oh! I found some seasoning and oils and managed to make some chip like combination. They’re killer.”

Pidge popped up. “Video games. Hunk and I finagled together a portable system with some of the older Earth games. It should keep you from getting too bored between missions and help keep you from becoming all work, no play. We know how you get.”

“General care products,” Lance drawled, hanging between Pidge and Hunk. “You’re stupid bad at actually taking breaks, my dude, but you gotta try the stuff I sent you. It will change your life, I promise.”

Shiro stepped forward, placing a hand on Pidge’s head. “There are a few extra items in there from all of us, just things to show we’re still thinking of you. We hope your missions are going all right.” Shiro’s voice dropped, soft and wistful. “We miss you around here. Come visit when you can, okay? You’re always welcome home.”

Ducking his face down, Keith thumbed over the hologram, uncaring as it wobbled. Home. The image froze on all their faces, open and earnest and loving, tinged blue and smiling for Keith. He smiled back, wiping at his wet cheeks as he laughed. His chest was warm, the hollow ache filled and covered completely.

Hitting replay, he balanced the comm unit on a pillow and stood, poking at the metal container. As Lance and Hunk went into the particulars about a move they used on a Galra fleet that caused a chain reaction, the container opened with a hiss of displaced air. Wrenching the top off, Keith removed the bumper sheet.

Quietly, reverently, Keith unpacked the box. When the recording stopped, he restarted it, drowning in the humming cadence of his friends’ voices. Inside, he found Hunk’s gifts, puzzles of various colours and sizes, containers filled to the brim with fresh baked goods and recipe cards in case Keith wanted to recreate them. He popped a chip into his mouth, groaning in surprise as barbeque exploded over his tongue. He shoved three more into his mouth before wiping his fingers off on his suit.

The console Pidge talked about was tucked into an incredibly soft towel, its pattern a vibrant red slashed with black accents. The console was palm sized and compact, but when unfolded amounted to a screen about the size of a small TV with a holographic keyboard. Pidge hadn’t been kidding about the games: there were over six hundred and thirteen titles. Each game was completed with a high score and Pidge’s name. Keith grinned. Challenge accepted.

Lance’s gift was wrapped up in an elegant gift basket, tied with a ribbon and crinkly tissue paper. Rolling his eyes, Keith sliced through the thin paper with his knife, startling at the flood of scent that immediately rushed him: trees after rain, fruity bubble bath, a woodfire crackling. Breathing in deep, Keith dropped the basket on the bed and dug out the rest of Lance’s items. A robe made of silken fabrics and brilliant red, a strange device that Lance had scribbled ‘FEET’ on, and a small shaving and haircut kit.

Beneath, blankets pillowed the bottom. When Keith yanked them free, he was startled into recognizing his own blanket from his room back on the Castle. A single pillow, fluffy and slightly indented, rolled out onto the bed. His pillow. His favourite one. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, Keith arranged the pillow into his makeshift bed, squishing his fist into the material and laughing dizzily.  

Once satisfied, Keith peered into the bottom of the container. There were a series of smaller boxes, arranged carefully. Unpacking each was an adventure, Keith nearly toppling into the crate as he unearthed each one. The packages were tied off with different coloured ribbons, likely symbolizing each Paladin. There was another box, thing and long, at the very bottom. Deciding ‘fuck it’, he leapt into the container and tossed it out, snickering at the image he likely made. Shiro would get a kick out of it for sure.

Climbing out of the container, he settled back on the bed, tucking his blanket beneath his thighs as he collected the gifts. He started with the green one, tearing into it and finding a small earpiece placed delicately upon foam material. A note was attached to it from Pidge, scrawled instructions that Keith glanced over before fitting the ear piece in. A thin holographic appeared over his right eye, frequencies scrolling by. She’d gifted him an encrypted space cell phone.

The yellow gift was heavy and tall, enough that Keith had to rise to his knees just to rip it open. Inside were holopads upon holopads, and a small machine with a note from Hunk attached to it. Glancing over it, Keith raised a brow and removed his knife from its sheath, dropping it into the machine with aplomb. It beeped, the top closing, and hummed quietly while Keith waited. When it was complete, the machine beeped again, top opening. The blade was pristine. Only Hunk would develop a blade cleaning machine. Keith chuckled.

The blue and pink ribboned gift was smaller, though no less bulging. When Keith opened it, blankets popped out, spilling over his lap. The fabric was ridiculously warm, thick and comfortable. The note was a mixture of Allura and Lance’s style, sentences running over each other, but the sentiment was the same: space was cold and Keith needed proper insulation. His heart warmed.

The final gift, the thin, black box, Keith unwrapped carefully. Inside was a smaller box and a shimmering blade made of silver hued metal. The sword was double edged and gleaming, ending in a wicked tip. Gold accents burnished the metal; purple and gold fabric twined around the handle. Keith’s mouth went dry. Gently, he drew his fingers over the side of the blade, expecting the cut but only finding a dull edge. Decorative, likely, but could be used if sharpened. Excited, Keith hefted the blade, dazed by the balance and ease with which it settled in his palm. He settled it in the cushy blanket and picked up the smaller box, shaking it slightly.

When he pulled the black ribbon aside, Shiro’s note was the first thing he saw. Beneath it were a series of packages, all garbled with alien languages. Glancing over the note, he laughed at Shiro’s rambling excitement about alien rations that didn’t taste like sawdust bound with Elmer’s glue, as well as the second request for Keith to come home. As he dug through the package, eyebrow raised at some of the pictures on the labels, his fingers brushed hard glass. Tossing most of the ration packages beside him, he unearthed four small glass frames.

Frames with pictures.

Gently, Keith ran his fingers over the edges of the glass. Each picture was of him with another Paladin: caught between Lance and Hunk hugging him, Pidge on his back demanding rides, Allura pushing his mouth up to make him smile. Shiro with his arm wrapped around Keith’s neck, tugged close and head thrown back in laughter. His fingers shook. Stars above, he missed them. His friends. His family.   

Sucking in a breath and shoving his palms against his eyes to halt the tears, Keith collected himself. Once he was certain of his composure, he reached for the comm unit. Clicking over to a reply vid, he set it up so that his face was no longer in shadow, the blanket clear on his shoulder. Contentment softened the bruises beneath his eyes. With his gifts around him, he hit record and smiled.

“Thanks for the message and the presents, guys. I miss you all too.”