#finally there will be any regulation of these so called 'retreats' . I wish they all got shut down

[flourescencia]

regularly being hit with news like this about my country week after week is so fucking disillusioning. I need spiritual colonialism to DIE

[ygreczed-3]

Kamski the magician Connor on the spirit’s seal Hank and Connor Gavin and Nines

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6  - Part 7

Connor arrives into the hall of the castle without encountering anyone. He sees the darkness war spirit's seal engraved in the ground, and runs towards it to hit it with an ice spear but is stopped by a voice piercing through the gigantic hall. He freezes as his spear shatters in his hand, evaporating into thin mist.

??? : Well… It's been long since the last time I've seen an intruder in my house.

Connor looks up to see… Kamski.

Connor : … Please sir, my companions are fighting your monsters and… They won't last long… Can you call the monsters back ?

Kamski : Why exactly do you think those monsters are here ? They're made to defend this citadel. It's a miracle that you made it here.

Connor falls on his knees : I beg you, sir… Please order your monsters to retreat…

Kamski : Hm…

Kamski walks slowly to the middle of the room, towards the symbol on the floor, not deigning looking at Connor. He finally uses his magic stick to hit the seal and Connor sighs in relief as he can hear the darkness war spirit roars vanish, echoing in the silent hall. The Golem can't even stand up, his legs feeling numb as cotton threads. He slowly realizes he's facing his creator, his God, people would say. After a moment, Kamski speaks again.

Kamski : So… you're a Golem… You've come a long way, don't you… Who are your companions ?

Connor : Nines, the closest thing to a brother I have, Gavin and Hank, two human companions form the Red Guard.

Kamski : You came here with humans ? And you call them your companions ? Interesting.

Connor : We're here because we…

Kamski : Let me guess. Your species is on the decline, and humans are hungry. Did I get it good ?

Connor : ...you know about it ? Then why… didn't you help us ?

Kamski : I helped you already. I helped Golems by creating them to be sentient beings, able to feel and think, able to want. I gave you the key to freedom. I helped Humans by giving them magic creatures, able to cultivate the lands and mix in with them on a social and emotional level.

What did you all do ? Humans enslaved your people, and Golems turned their back to those they morally had to protect : now you're killing each other like animals.

Humans treated you as their creations, and instead of establishing a dialogue, you rioted, killed many of them, and condemned the survivors to die slowly from never ending famines. Humans could have treated you as their equals, but instead of that, they made you their slaves, and thus created their own fate.

I already helped you, but it was nothing more than a waste of time.

Connor : … But… we're dying…

Kamski : And you're just standing there, thinking I was going to save you all ?

What if I gave you everything I could already ? What if you had to save yourselves, now ?

Connor blinks.

Connor : "The key to our prosperity..."

Kamski : You know the answer. You wish I could give you a simpler solution, but I won't. Tell me, what's the key, Connor ?

Connor : … "The key to our prosperity lies in…"... symbiosis.

Kamski : Symbiosis. Funny how simple the solution is, and how everybody just overlooked it. Humans and Golems are enclosed in interdependency : the only way to save your peoples, is to unite them.

Connor : But how ? We… we're fighting for decades ! Killing each other ! How can we just… forget and step forward together ?

Kamski : I don't have all the answers, young one.

Connor : … I… I thought… you would come up with something… and save us all…To me, you were like a god… Now… How can I tell my friends we came this far for… nothing ?

Kamski : Oh no, Connor, you're smarter than this. Look at your partners, fighting for you to get here, and dare say again that you all came for nothing.

Connor is lost and disappointed.

Kamski : I'm sorry to disappoint you. There are no such things as Gods here below. All we have is willpower, determination and patience. If you all want to save your peoples, then do it by yourselves.

X

Connor finds Hank, resting against a column in the tunnel. The man gets up seeing the Golem, wincing a bit and holding his abdomen. All the monsters are gone.

Hank : So ? What happened ?

Connor just closes his eyes and hugs Hank tight. The warrior is surprised at first, but then sighs, realizing Connor's crying against him.

Hank : Let's find Gavin and Nines, you'll tell us later, okay ?

Connor helps Hank walk down the rock since he got hurt again fighting the monsters. They join Nines, who is taking care of Gavin's wounds. Connor can't help but notice his brother's fingers, delicately curled around the human's. Surprisingly, none of them ask anything about Kamski : they can already feel that something went wrong. Connor feels grateful when Gavin reaches for his shoulder, giving him an awkward yet comforting pat.

X

They get back to Nestlepeek, and sit down in an inn. Connor finally explains everything Kamski told him, staring at his hands, feeling on his shoulders the weight of his responsibility in the situation.

Connor : I know it's all my fault. I thought we were going to find a simple answer to all our problems… I took you on a quest I had invented because I was certain Kamski was going to help us.

I'm sorry for the trouble, I'm sorry we still don't have any solution… it's- it's all my fault.

Hank : … A few months ago… I'd have said it was just an illusion… that we couldn't bring peace between our two peoples. But now I… I want to try. 

Connor looks up, eyes shining wet, surprised. Hank blushes, scratching his cheek in embarrassment as he keeps going:

Hank : I'm not optimistic, you know that. But we… I can't give up. You said we would save our people … and we're going to do exactly this. It ain't gonna be easy, I know, but we can do it. Right, Nines ?

Nines remains silent for a few seconds, his arms crossed in a reflective attitude. His stare wanders on the table, before it meets Gavin's profile for a fleeting moment. Connor waits nervously, ready to hear Nines say they should have stayed at Jericho, that maybe there was nothing left to save now. His breath fastens suddenly, but he tries to regulate it by himself, closing his eyes while Hank's large warm palm covers the back of his hand in a soothing gesture. Their eyes meet and Connor smiles faintly.

Nines : I learned to appreciate Hank and Gavin during our journey. I'm ready to plead for the Humans' cause with our people when we will be back home. Markus should listen to us… But we will have to convince the rest of them.

Hank : What about you Gavin ? Would you help me talk to Fowler, then the Queen ?

Gavin : I'd do anything to not have to fight Golems again. I can't do that anymore…

Nines smiles discreetly at Gavin's words. Connor can't help but to be touched by how close his brother and the youngest warrior are : Kamski knew it, they didn't come for nothing, after all. They had all found each other.

Connor : You guys really want to go back to Detroit and Jericho, tell our leaders we have to unite our forces to survive ? What if… what if they refuse ?

Gavin : Why would they ? We're living together or dying together. Even I know there is no better choice.

Hank : Diplomacy, this is our last resort : Kamski was right…We have willpower, determination and patience. 

Connor meets Nines, Gavin, then finally Hank's loving eyes.

Connor : Alright then... Let's go back home.

I’m finally posting the last part lmao

So yep, they’re going back, and will solve the problem by themselves... I think it’s important that they try to make the world a better place by themselves, and not with only Kamski’s deus ex machina.

Hope you liked that last part, see you later for the Operation Cyberlife update ;)

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

If My Kingdom Falls, I’ll Lose it All

A birthday gift to the lovely @aidensm8. Ty so much @dramaticsnakes for beta-reading <33333

Cws: minor angst, feeling of not being good enough, implied overworking, neglecting self-care

Summary: "A good king takes care of himself."

"I'm not a king yet."

---

Roman was a prince. A prince who would soon become a king. There were too many things to do and the golden-eyed guard kept on getting in his way.

AO3

The Sanders Kingdom received the provocative letter that detailed the new laws set for their neighboring kingdoms that would soon fit their own as well. The King had discussed the arrangement, focusing on the inflation or artisan goods and rations provided to the people. The meetings took place over several months with no changes made in favor of the Sanders Kingdom. The nation soon declared war, providing that regulations were detrimental to-

“-no no, you should have seen him last night. He was a complete mess.”

Roman let out an exhale. The guards were socializing by his door again. When would they learn that they were getting paid to stand there and not go around pretending the castle was the local pub? He harshly stood up from his chair, not minding how it made a semi-loud sound as it moved across the floor. He made a few quick steps to open the door, glaring with the first guard he saw. 

A walking stereotype. Muscles, dark hair, and a straightened-up posture once he saw Roman’s presence. Roman took in a small breath. Kings were polite with their people. He had to be kind and civil. He slipped a small smile on his face, making the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly, “Gentlemen.”

The guard looked at Roman’s eyes for a moment, but the eye contact seemed uncomfortable for the man. The guard slipped on a smile but it was filled with apprehension and hesitation.  “Prince- Prince Roman. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

Well, you did, he bitterly thought. He let a small chuckle escape him, one that wasn’t out of personal enjoyment but to rather relieve the tension. “You didn’t, but could you two tell the guards by hallway C to rotate their positions with you?” He didn’t know which guards he was swapping out, but they must have been better than these two. 

He looked over at the other guard, almost forgetting he existed. His eyes were slightly narrowed as a tight smile rested on his face. His eyes were peculiar. Roman barely had time to dissect the distaste painted over the man’s face as he noticed a golden eye staring back at him. It seemed to stare through his soul and assert that he was the royal one there. 

Roman swallowed the feeling down his throat as the original guard spoke, “As you wish, Prince Roman.” The guard made a few steps away from the door, the armor clinking quietly around him. He took a look back, noticing that the guard positioned next to him hadn’t moved. 

“Sir Deceit?” The guard with the golden eye- who was apparently Sir Deceit- looked away from Roman and to the other guard. 

He took a quiet exhale as he nodded at Roman. “As you wish, Prince Roman.” There might have been another moment where Sir Deceit lingered there for a second longer than he should have, but the time flew by Roman as the guard soon walked away. 

Deceit. It was an odd name for a guard. A guard that’s supposed to be honest and truthful to his kingdom was going by Deceit. Roman momentarily wondered what Sir Deceit’s real name was before he shook his head to himself and retreated back into his room. Names were kept secret out of safety. Something about how it lowered assassination attempts or perhaps just general threats.

A part of his mind kept returning back to the guard as he sat down and tried to continue reading about their foreign affairs. He shouldn’t care about the guard, he just had a weird eye and name and that was the end of it. He had a kingdom that would fall into his hands within a matter of months. He didn’t have time to focus on the insignificant details of his workers.

---

Roman moved his hands around as the book suggested. One around an imaginary waist and the other holding an invisible hand. He slowly stepped forward while holding the pose, then moving to the right as he turned around to end up in the starting position. He took a small breath as he proceeded to widen his stance. The book reminded him how important it was, but he kept on forgetting.

A warm voice called out from behind him. “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

Roman turned around. He was about to decline the permission to the guard when he noticed his eyes. Golden-eyed boy was guarding him again. He wished the guard’s name didn’t feel familiar on his mind. “Permission granted.”

“You’re doing horribly.”

Roman felt his body become tense as he forced his posture to vaguely loosen up, but the confusion on his face was evidence of his initial reaction. Rule one- a guard should never insult royalty. Roman felt any confidence he could’ve had leave him as he turned away from him. “I’m still learning, Sir Deceit.”

Footsteps made their way behind him as warm hands gently fell onto his body. Sir Deceit’s chest was pressed against his back as he slowly pushed Roman’s arms to be more curved and open. He whispered into his ear, “You can’t learn such a fluid dance from a book. The pages are so rigid, it’s practically incorrect to learn that way.”

Before Roman could’ve made any comment, Sir Deceit walked around him, interlocking their fingers in his left hand and placing Roman’s other hand onto his waist. Roman looked Sir Deceit up and down. The guard seemed to know what he was doing with how calmly he looked up at Roman. Warmness was present on him, gently reminding him that he needed to do something. “S- Sir Deceit, this is quite unprofessional of you. I’ll have to ask you to remove your hands from me.”

Roman almost wished that they stayed together a bit longer, but they were separated as soon as they were joined. “As you wish, my prince.”

He could feel the phantom warmth on his skin. He looked away from Sir Deceit and to the book. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

Sir Deceit let out a small hum. It was one of approval, but it was so… wrong. There wasn’t a witty remark that Roman knew was in the back of his mind or a protest to stay. There wasn’t even a statement of agreement. Just a small noise.

But what was Roman doing? His coronation was coming close and he had to know the kingdom’s traditional dances by heart to not look a fool. Yet, he somehow felt like one already. With warmness tingling on his waist and hand, he repositioned his body into the starting position.

---

Roman faced the mirror, critically eyeing the man he saw in it. While it was him in the mirror, it wasn’t him. He wore a newer outfit, but it was still in the same style as his wardrobe. He carefully moved a few hairs to lay slightly on his face. Enough to look casual, but not enough to look messy. 

He tensed at the muffled snicker behind him. He turned around, almost expecting his brother there but he only saw a gua- Sir Deceit. The man held a hand to his mouth, but Roman could still see how his eyes crinkled. Roman raised an eyebrow, “Is something funny?”

Sir Deceit shook his head before he dropped his hand to reveal the smile on his face, “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

Roman let out a short breath as he held a tensed smile. The words were too light-hearted. As if he wasn’t a guard who worked for him and instead as if they were friends for many years. “Permission granted.”

Sir Deceit took a few small steps towards him. Roman found himself looking away and towards the mirror, but even that still held his the guard’s reflection. He could luckily see that the man’s eyes lingered on his outfit instead of him. “It’s ridiculous,” Sir Deceit quietly said, almost as if it was to himself. “You spend so much time on everything that’s already perfect that you fail to acknowledge what actually needs to be fixed.”

Roman scoffed, “If you’re so fashionably gifted then please let me know what needs to be ‘fixed.’” The last word was sarcastic as Roman resisted rolling his eyes.

“Your collar,” Sir Deceit responded without hesitation. “It’s a bit crooked.”

Roman looked into the mirror. His collar seemed normal to him- perfect even. Perhaps Sir Deceit was just a liar trying to get a rise out of Roman to finally prove that he shouldn’t be king. Maybe even point out that learning what kings should know shouldn’t be so difficult for him. “My collar is fine.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Roman took his gaze away from his collar and towards Sir Deceit. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

Sir Deceit stood there for a moment before he took the smallest step towards Roman. He gently grabbed Roman’s collar, making a few tugs that Roman caught in the mirror before the guard pulled away. “I didn’t hear you, what did you say?” There was a hidden smugness behind the words that made Roman smile.

“My collar was fine, but-” thank you. He shouldn’t thank a guard, he was simply doing his job. Guards didn't get thanked for the bare minimum, only if they saved a life or did something else heroic. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

Janus nodded once, apparently pleased with Roman’s response. “As you wish, my prince.”

---

Roman let out a long breath as he tried to read over the words again. They only seemed blurrier as more tears filled his vision. It was simple, he shouldn’t be acting so stupid about it. Although the laws contradicted each other, he was sure they made sense. He just wasn’t trying hard enough. 

He let out a slow, shaky breath, as he leaned back in his chair. He gently blinked the tears out, willing himself not to sob in the library. He carefully wiped the shed tears away, making sure not to rub them so his face wouldn’t be splotchy. A good king didn't cry over something so easy.

A moment too long passed with only more emotion brewing inside him. He looked down at his book again, his gaze momentarily catching a guard’s, but he quickly focused his mind on the book. 

The words were still blurry, but he tried to make himself focus on the content. Perhaps he wasn’t even reading the words anymore, only scanning the page in case it would randomly start to make sense. Somewhere between seconds and minutes, he felt a warm presence on his shoulder that made him want to curl up in hopes that it surrounded him. Through a quick glance, he spotted a gloved hand resting there. “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

It was Sir Deceit. He didn’t remember that the man wore gloves. Roman nodded to the guard’s question, not trusting his voice with a confident answer.

“You should rest, my prince.” The sympathetic voice dripped into Roman’s ears, filling them with pity and kind-hearted melancholy.

Roman weakly shook his head. He didn’t need a break. He needed to understand. He blinked as a tear slid down his face and silently fell onto the page. He shouldn’t be this pathetic, it was simple. All the other kings understood it with ease- perhaps he didn’t deserve the role so graciously given to him.

Sir Deceit gave a gentle squeeze to Roman’s shoulder. The direct action made him wilt, any confidence he held fading away. When the book was removed from him, he followed it with his vision. He saw gloves holding it, dabbing the part of the page wetted by Roman’s tear.

Roman let out a quiet sigh as Sir Deceit closed the book. “You won’t get anywhere tonight and it’ll be here tomorrow.” The words were too gentle to reject, turning painfully in Roman’s chest. He stood up, but the feeling still lingered when he turned away. He took a step away from Sir Deceit, feeling the hand slowly slip off him. 

“You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.” He couldn’t find himself to care that his voice broke or how he felt a sob breaking through him that he managed to quiet at the last moment. There was something hesitant said to him. Perhaps a farewell, goodbye, or another phrase for departure.

Or perhaps it was confirmation that he shouldn’t be king.

---

Roman stood in the mirror as he adjusted his collar. He cringed at the sight of himself as he tried to focus on anything else, but it all seemed so wrong. Flat hair accompanied with too-pale skin didn’t compliment the slight frown on his face. He tried to flash himself a smile, but it seemed far too flimsy. A small breath left him. He didn’t have anything to do, so he might just keep himself in the library. 

Not for long of course. Only an hour or two to refresh his mind. The steps there were easy after all. Sir Deceit trailed close behind. Roman would’ve complained about his constant presence, but a small part of him liked the familiarity of the golden eye accompanied by a warm voice. There was nothing personal about the attachment. The traits would have been nice on anyone.

The library brought a vague feeling of dread that he pushed down as he inhaled the calm scent of books. He walked to a table and sat down. A pile of books rested next to the chair. He quietly picked one up as he opened it to where he last was. 

The pages seemed kinder to him today. There was still minor frustration embedded into the words, but he still turned the page after a minute or two of processing what he read. He sat straight up, leaning to the side as he heard a few cracks from his back as he stretched. After a moment of letting his body move, he refocused his eyes onto the book. 

A warm voice welcomed him away from the text, “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

Roman looked up from the book and to Sir Deceit. “Of course.” A soft smile found a way onto his face, but it felt the slightest bit strained. 

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

Roman frowned as he noticed an appetite that had appeared at random. He shook his head.

Sir Deceit continued where he didn’t, “Do you plan to eat soon?”

Roman shrugged. “I’m not sure how you view ‘soon,’ but I’ll eat eventually.”

The conversation quieted in a way Roman found himself comfortable with. He settled back into his book, only making it a few pages before Sir Deceit spoke again, “I can bring you something from the kitchen.” The words dipped into a concern that made Roman shift slightly in his chair. 

“Food isn’t allowed into the library.” It was odd that Sir Deceit apparently seemed to not know the rules of the castle, speaking so casually and making improper requests. 

“There’s more than rules in life, my prince.”

Roman tensed as he looked away from his book and up at Sir Deceit. He didn’t spend months if not years learning what the rules were for himself and the kingdom just for a guard to say that they weren’t important. “Rules define who a person is, Sir Deceit.” His voice was laced with bitterness he didn’t have the patience to apologize for.

Yet, Sir Deceit seemed oblivious to it as he shook his head. “They might define social norms and common courtesy, but they don’t do much more than that.”

Roman looked down at his book. He didn’t have time for this. Janus quietly sighed. “Would you like me to bring you something from the kitchen, Prince Roman?”

Roman didn’t bother to look up at the guard. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

---

The uprising was ineluctable yet unscrupulous. Their power contended the sovereignty of their time with the insistence of their previous-

The sound of the plate in front of him brought him out of the pages and into the library. He blinked up at the food as his stomach let out a quiet growl. “I’m-” fine. His sentence was cut off by the sight of a yellow glove gently hanging at the side of the plate. He looked up, spotting Sir Deceit himself standing there. “I didn’t request this.”

Sir Deceit nodded once, the action too quick and smug for any possible hesitance to slip through. “I’m aware of that, Prince Roman.”

Roman let his shoulders drop slightly as he fiddled with one of the pages. “You can take that back to the kitchen,” he said through an exhale.

“A good king takes care of himself.”

Then I won’t be a good king. “I’m not king yet.”

“You’re practicing to become one, no?” Roman rolled his eyes. Even through his practices, most of the time he failed at the simplest traditions and memorization. “Roman, you have to take care of yourself. Even if you’re excited about your new position, you’re still… human.”

“I’m not excited about any of this,” the words were his own, but they left him without permission, only weighing heavily as he continued to talk, “I never asked to be a prince. I- I know I should be grateful, but…” He let his voice drift off with a long exhale picking up its place. His eyes drifted back to the book.

“Stand up.”

Roman chuckled as he looked up at Sir Deceit. “You’re a guard, you’re in no position to command a prince.”

Sir Deceit rolled his eyes with a faux smile on his face. “I would like to request you to stand up, my prince.” He held out a gloved hand out to Roman. Hesitation shined from the interaction, but Roman gently held Sir Deceit’s hand as he stood up.

Sir Deceit began walking as Roman followed along. They wandered through the old library, the silence stretching between them finding a comfortable place through their echoing footsteps. The guard turned around corners and hallways Roman had never seen, leading him to a wooden door that Sir Deceit opened with ease. 

Roman quietly gasped at the cold air that hit him. It was a door that led outside. Sir Deceit gently tugged for him to go further, but Roman stood where he was. “I’m not allowed to go outside after dark.” He looked through the door with admiration. The sky was dark as he saw glimpses of tall spruce trees and small specks of stars. 

Sir Deceit turned to him, a gentle smile on his face. Not one tinted with compassion, but one of adventure. “There’s more to life than social boundaries.”

And with a tug of his hand, Roman started slowly walking outside with his guard. The grass moved underneath his shoes. It would have done that in the day too, but it seemed so different with the quiet secretiveness.

It only took a few steps for Roman to stare at the stars. He saw them in old books and paintings hung across the walls, but he never saw them before. “What would have happened if I never brought you out here?” The question was quiet in a way that seemed rhetorical but it didn’t stop Roman from wondering. 

He looked down from the stars and into Sir Deceit’s eyes. The golden one seemed to oddly glow. “I would’ve stayed in the library.”

“No, I mean long-term.” Roman found himself taking glances away from Sir Deceit’s eyes and towards the stars behind him. “You would’ve missed this.”

Roman shook his head. “I would’ve eventually seen them.”

Sir Deceit shrugged. “I’ve looked through the rules. You’re only allowed out this late a few times a year.”

“So you do know what the rules are.”

Sir Deceit shook his head slightly, a silent laugh of sorts. “I’m well aware of what they are. I just know they aren’t worth paying attention to. Especially compared to moments like this.”

Roman found himself nodding to the words as he looked at his fingers interlocked with Sir Deceit’s. He tested the waters, giving the hand a small squeeze. He received one in return without a response.

He barely thought before he pressed his lips onto Sir Deceit’s. His eyes closed, but he could still feel the stars. He took his free hand to cup Sir Deceit’s cheek, keeping him close into the kiss. A slow moment passed before he pulled away with a smile. “You’re something different, Sir Deceit.”

“It’s Janus.”

Roman’s smile faltered for a brief moment. “You aren’t supposed to say your real name. You could be permanently dismissed- if not exiled for such a thing.” Something set uncomfortably in his chest at the idea of not seeing Sir Dec- Janus’ golden eye again. Or to hear how a question dripped in sarcasm and politeness at the same time.

Janus pressed a quick kiss onto Roman’s lips. “Maybe I don’t care anymore, prince Roman.”

“Just Roman.”

A small smile fell onto Janus. “Your name reveal was a little less dramatic.”

Roman let a chuckle escape him. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t given a secret name.”

Janus gave Roman’s hand a light squeeze. “You don’t need one, I’ll just call you mine.”

[solarwonux]

Crop Tops and Tattoos || Wonwoo

soccer player!Wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, shower sex, wonwoo soft!dom, oral sex (female receiving), friends with benefits, friends to lovers, public sex (kinda) I think that’s all. 

note: another repost I’m sorry lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, honestly I literally have like a bunch of works that literally take place in the same soccer!svt/college!svt universe but really have nothing to do with one another except for like 3 and they’re all spicy lol. Let me know if you’d want them and also enjoy this one and lmk your thoughts hehehe :)

masterlist

“W-What?”

“Come to my practice tonight.” You rubbed the sleep from your afternoon nap out of your eyes, listening to Wonwoo’s soft voice through the receiver. “I miss you, come to my practice tonight, we can hang out after.” Wonwoo all but begged, and you can almost picture the pout that was on his face.

“Woo, I can’t I have to finish my half of the group research project.”

“Perfect, I’ll help you. You’re my partner anyway. Please love, I just want to see you it’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days Woo.” You rolled your eyes sitting up on your couch, retreating your phone from your ear, checking the time, 7:30PM it read. So much for a thirty-minute nap, you sighed.

“Precisely why you should come to my practice…hold on a sec,” Wonwoo pulled the phone away from his ear and gave the lost student instructions to where the art history section of the library was located at. “Please, it will be worth it, I promise.” He whispered, cupping his mouth over the receiver, muffling his words a little making you laugh.

“I’ll think about it, get back to work.”

“Okay see you tonight.” He said a little too excited and hung up the phone, a wide smile appearing on your face, making your stomach perform a whole gymnastics routine in the process.

The relationship you and Wonwoo had was interesting, it had started off as mindlessly flirty with one another, graduated to ghost touches and during a hot summer’s day. Where the air conditioning in the library had leaked and instead of Joshua calling everyone to tell them to stay home, he had made sure everyone showed up. Or else. His exact words.

The touches and flirting had escalated to the point that Wonwoo had dragged you to the forgotten encyclopedia section of the library and pinned you against the dusty bookshelves.

Since then your relationship grew more to just sleeping with one another to let off some steam. He would hold your hand underneath the reception desk at the library, mindlessly drawing patterns and phrases onto your skin. He would walk you to class when he could, sometimes with a bubble tea in his hand, other times empty handed. If you were scheduled to close on days, he had an earlier shift, he would wait and walk you home holding you close while the two of you talked about your day. And as of recently, after sex he had started to spend the night, claiming he slept better with you by his side.

In your head Wonwoo was your boyfriend just without the label. It was also a conversation the two of you needed to have, but it was also one you feared because you didn’t want it to ruin it.

You ran through the gates of the soccer field and started up the steps of the aluminum bleachers, earning weird stares from the guys and girls that decided to attend SVT’s first soccer practice of the season. You sat down, out of breath, holding your bag close to your body as you tried your best to regulating your breathing. A reminder that maybe hitting the gym every once in a while, wasn’t such a bad idea, because clearly having mind blowing sex with Wonwoo wasn’t helping with building your stamina.

“Woo your girl’s here now you can finally start playing.”

“Get your head out of your ass Jun.” Wonwoo scoffed shoving Jun lightly, earning a laugh from the other boy. Wonwoo gazed over at you a knowing smile evident on his face and waved at you. You felt your cheeks heat up and your eyes grew wide as you took in his appearance.

Wonwoo had sworn to you that he would never wear his old jersey again, especially since Seungcheol and Jeonghan had deviously cut it up after their last game last season. Yet, here he was in all his glory. The shirt stopping just above his belly button, the sliver of his toned stomach peeking through and you felt the beat of your heart start to raise. You warily waved back, before placing your cold palm against your forehead trying to cool yourself down.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, lifting his hand up and threaded it through his dark locks. His shirt riding up, exposing himself more and you felt the air leave your lungs. It was stupid, you have been seeing him in a lot less clothing for months and in every angle. But for some reason now as he stood boring his soft eyes into yours as Jihoon shouted commands to his teammates. The sweat dripping down the sides of his face, his glasses fogged up slightly due to the humidity and a knowing smirk adorning his face, teasing you. And you felt like you were about to burst.

“Hey, Woo, stop ogling at your girlfriend and get into position.”

“I like your shirt.”

“Hmm, yeah?” A devilish snicker fell from his lips as he pushed up against the cool tile wall. You nodded dragging your nails across the sliver of teasing skin, leaving red marks behind in their wake making Wonwoo shudder. “So sexy.” He groaned lowly pressing his lips onto yours forcefully, his hands snaking around your waist down to your ass giving it a squeeze making you gasp. He pulled away from your lips and trailed them down your neck. He swiped his tongue over your sweet spot earning him a whimper from you.

“You gonna let me fuck you in the locker room showers?”

“If you ask nicely.” You breathed out playing with the elastic waist band of his shorts. Wonwoo laughed against your neck and bit down before pulling away. “Can I fuck you in the locker room showers please?” He pouted playfully, grabbing your thigh and wrapping it around his waist.

“God Woo, yes.” You wrapped your arms around his waist pulling him closer to you feeling his growing cock against your aroused pussy. “As you wish darling.” He mumbled pecking your lips repeatedly before pulling away from your body, making you whine at the loss of his body heat.

Wonwoo chuckled sinking down to his knees, your eyes hooded with pleasure, feeling the wetness between your legs grow. He left teasing kisses down your clothed thighs, his thumbs hooking underneath the waist band of your leggings dragging them along with him. “Woo my shoes.”

“I was getting there, you’re so impatient sometimes.” He mumbled sitting back on his knees tapping your calf silently telling you to raise your leg. “It’s your fault…how am I supposed to be patient when you always look so good.” You obliged watching as he slowly took of your shoe and throwing it outside of the shower stall along with your sock. He repeated the process with your other leg before attaching his lips against your clothed thigh and left gentle open-mouthed kisses up your leg.

“I guess it’s time I teach you how to be patient.” He smirked pulling down your leggings along with your panties in one go. He threw them aside, placing a kiss against your hip bone, where the small stick and poke infinity sign tattoo he had made after a long night of immoral rendezvous. “Still can’t believe you let me talk you into giving you this.” He mumbled giving it another kiss and stood up.

“I wanted a tattoo but didn’t want to experience the pain.”

“It still hurt you, I had to stop, that’s why it’s all crooked and unfinished.”

“But it’s my favorite.” You whispered, his dark lust filled eyes boring into yours as he slowly started to take off his shorts and underwear, exposing himself to you. No matter how many times the two of you slept together, the sight of his body always had your heart beating out of time. He was perfect, an Adonis carved out of marble and to your surprise he was all yours.

“Don’t take off your shirt.” You whispered reaching and grabbing a fistful of the cloth and pulling him to you. “I want you to fuck me with it on.” You eyed him, a teasing finger running down his chest. “You’re so naughty today.” He laughed grabbing your hand and moved it up to his lips kissing each of your knuckles his sensual gaze lingering on yours. You felt your breathing pick up, the heat trailing down your thighs. “Please touch me.” You whimpered pulling your hand away and taking your shirt of throwing it behind him.

“Not yet I need to shower, I’m all sweaty from practice.” He winked, his hand finding the shower handle and turning it. A gasp left your lips as you felt the cold start to coat your heated bodies. “Now behave princess.” He kissed you hard, running his tongue over your bottom lip asking for entrance in which you granted. His hips flirting with yours and all you wanted to do was get down on your knees and beg him to use you in any and every single way possible. He pulled away detaching the shower head sending you a wink before putting it against your clit. The harsh water jets sending a sweet wave of pleasure up your spine.

“You’re going to cum like this and then I’ll fuck you.” He mumbled, before sinking down on to his knees again. He kept the shower head in place and alternated in kissing your thighs. Desperate whimpers falling out of your mouth. Wonwoo hooked one of your legs on top of his shoulder and bit down on your thigh, sucking making you yelp. “Your body reacts so well to me.” He kissed up your thigh sucking another love bite next to your tattoo before pulling away, shifting the shower head slightly. The sensation sending a new wave of pleasure up your body making you moan.

“W-Wonwoo, mmm, please.”

“Please what?” He teased the sound of a smirk evident in his voice and you’ve never wanted to hit someone so badly before. “I-I need you please.” You cried out, the tip of his index finger teasing the entrance of your pussy. “Yeah…you need me baby?” He chuckled moving your arousal around coating his finger with it before pulling away and bringing it up to his mouth, moaning sinfully as he licked it clean

“Y-Yes need your fingers, or mouth anything p-please W-Woo.” You raised your hips trying to grind yourself against the water, searching for a release in every way you could. “I’ll give you what you want but you can’t touch me.” He tsked giving you a pointed look. You whined nodding your head grabbing onto the smoothness of the shower wall. He ran his hot tongue against the lips of your pussy, the sensation mixing with the coldness of the water sent shivers up your spine.

“You always taste so sweet.” He mumbled against you flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. Your mouth hanging open as your fingers itched to touch him and push him against you even further. “L-Let me touch you?” You breathed out your nails digging themselves into the skin of your stomach. He nodded against you repeatedly licking strides up your lips before attaching his mouth on your clit. By now the shower head was long forgotten as it fell from his hand, hitting the shower wall with a loud clank making you jump.

You threaded your fingers in his short hair tugging at the roots making him moan against you. He wrapped his arms around your ass pulling you closer as he lost himself eating you out like a starved man. “B-Baby I’m close.” You moaned arching your back against the wall as he lightly bit down on your clit and pulled away. He licked his lips savoring you and adjusted his round glasses earning a lighthearted laugh from you. “Don’t laugh or I won’t help you cum.” He grumbled pressing his index and middle fingers against your entrance and slowly sinking them into you immediately curling them up in search for your g-spot. A satisfied smile etching across his face as you moaned out the second he found it.

Wonwoo attached his lips onto your clit again, this time wasting no time and sucking on it roughly, his fingers moving inside you at a fast pace. The coil forming at the pit of your stomach, your hands tugging on his hair, your hips bucking against his mouth and fingers. He moaned feeling your clench around his fingers, giving him the motivation to pick of his pace, the pleasure getting too much for your body to handle and before you knew you came undone screaming out his name. He helped you ride out your orgasm, desperately licking up your release making your body twitch from the oversensitivity.

“You did so well baby.” He mumbled before pulling away, licking his lips moaning in approval as the remnants of your arousal hit his taste buds. He thrusted his fingers a few more times before pulling them out making you whine, missing the way they felt inside of you. He chuckled licking them clean before standing up.

“Think you can give me one more?” He asked giving your lips multiple pecks and then your cheeks. You laughed pushing his face away resting your tired body against the wall of the shower.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you something?” You crossed your arms in front of you holding up the towel Wonwoo had wrapped around your body. Wonwoo hummed handing you his extra t-shirt as well as the sweatpants you had left at his place weeks ago. How he knew to bring them along with him was beyond you, but you decided to save that question for another day.

“Why do the guys call me your girl.” You emphasized standing up from the bench and started getting dressed. Wonwoo closed his locker resting his back against it drinking you in slowly, making you feel a little insecure. “Jeonghan saw you leave my apartment one day and texted the group chat to share the tea.” He rolled his eyes using quotations around the last word of his sentence before pushing himself away from the locker. “Now the guys think we’re dating.”

“But you never corrected them?” You tugged his shirt over your head gathering your semi dry clothes and folded them. “Do you want me to correct them?” He placed his hand on your cheek moving your head gently to meet his eyes.

“I-I mean yeah, we aren’t dating you made it very clear that you weren’t looking for a relationship when this started.”

“I wish I could eat my words.” He whispered running his thumb over your swollen lips. “I think I’m past just wanting to fuck you; I want more.”

You felt the air leave your lungs; your cheeks heated up and you desperately searched for a new point of focus because the intensity evident in his gaze was overwhelming. “We should go, I need to finish my half of the project.” You picked up your drying clothes and your bag and rounded the corner of the bench you had been sitting at.

“You don’t want to be more?” Wonwoo caught up with you grabbing your free hand to stop you from walking and held it close to his chest. “I do, I’m just scared you’ll end up regretting it if we ever do try to be more.” You confessed trailing your eyes down his body and stopping at your interlocked hands.

“I won’t, you make me feel so good an—”

“Exactly, I make you feel good. All you’ve ever known is how it feels like to be with me naked. You don’t know what it’s like to actually be with me.” You pulled your hand away. A frustrated sigh spiraling out of his lungs as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Your worst habit is jumping to conclusions.” He mumbled lowly tugging at the roots of his hair. It didn’t feel nearly as good as it felt when you would do it to him, but that was something he would ever confess out loud. “I want to be with you in every way possible, I know what I said before and if I would take back my words I would because that was before I found myself falling for you.” Wonwoo closed the gap between the two of you holding you tightly. His confession had your mind running nonstop, the weight of his words making their way into your heart and finding a home. You hugged him tightly, burying your face into his chest. “Is that a yes?” Wonwoo asked confusion laced in his voice as he hugged you back running his hands down your back soothingly. You hummed nodding your head taking a whiff of his lavender body wash and somehow it felt like home.

“You can’t just say things like that so casually.” You groaned raising your head from his chest placing a kiss on his chin. “Give me a warning next time.”

“Would you have preferred reading the essay I wrote about it instead.”

“Wonwoo stop fucking around you didn’t do that.” You scoffed pushing away from him and started down the hallway to entrance of the locker room. “Yes, I did it’s fifteen pages long, I even used citations.” He yelled following you a few steps behind, the teasing tone in his voice made you doubt his word. But he did once write a whole essay on how Soonyoung was the worst co-captain in the history of co-captains because he had beat him in Mario Kart.

“You have two options I can read it for you tonight after you’re done with your half of the project or I can read it for you on your wedding day.” You choked on your saliva making him laugh. He patted your back gently before pushing open the door to the locker room.

“What the fuck Woo, our weddi—”

“Finally, we’ve been waiting out here for hours. I’m starving.” Hoshi exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air before starting down hallway. “I told you guys to leave.” Wonwoo sighed rolling his eyes and extended his hand for you to take.

“Half of us did once they heard you guys fucking.” Vernon shrugged shoving his hands in his pockets. Your cheeks started to heat up, you prayed to every god out there to do you a solid and open the ground up and have it swallow you whole. “And you guys didn’t?”

“Nah, you’re paying for dinner remember, plus we made a bet while we waited.” Vernon took two long strides over and placed his hand on top of Wonwoo’s shoulder. “I never expected you to have a daddy kink and now I lost fifty bucks to Jeonghan and Dino each, that’s a hundred in total.” He shook his head and walked away running to catch up with Hoshi.

“I don’t have a dad—”

“You know bathrooms have echoes right?” Dino pushed himself way from the wall and started walking away. “We heard the two of you loud and clear, so you can’t deny it, Jeonghan even took a voice note just in case you wanted to deny it.”

“Baby you’re going to have to visit me in jail cause I’m about to commit homicide.” Wonwoo placed a chaste kiss against your head and let go of your hand and charged over to Dino. He turned around laughing before running down the hallway leaving you behind with a smirking Jeonghan.

“Honestly, I just hope you guys disinfected the stall the two of you used.”

[elderbwrry]

Girls' Night

tags: the knights of ren, All Women Knights of Ren, Girl's night, Girl's Knight, haha please like me, Fluff and Humor, Adversarial Kylux, Very much a WIP, Kylux, although fair warning it might not be that relationshippy

Read it on ao3

Summary: Hux is surprised by what the Knights of Ren get up to in their free time - it's strangely humanising. Unfortunately, Ren is still being the Lord of all Assholes. Hux needs a way to get back at him. It gives him an idea.

Hux marched down the corridor in the Finalizer's quarters deck, the section dedicated to command personnel. The immaculately tiled and polished floors glinted as he whipped past them. He was walking a little faster than usual, he noticed with distaste, but it wasn't surprising; this was his last task before he could officially count his shift as “over” and, instead of standing stiffly on the bridge checking reports, he could settle down to checking them in the comfort of his quarters. His sofa beckoned, along with another three hours of beloved admin, then five necessary hours of sleep before his next shift.

Moments ticked by as he had to pause and wait for a security door to open, and he felt his frustration manifesting itself in his brow. He was currently delaying himself by heading approximately six minutes out of the way of his own quarters, all to give Ren little more than a telling off. This wasn't the first time the glorified poser had caused him this kind of issue – trust Ren to get in the way, he excelled at it – but it was the first time Hux was personally carrying the message round to his quarters that he needed to file a report for the mission he returned from over a week ago.

Hux had tried the usual ways of getting hold of Ren; on his return to the ship, Hux had informed him a report was due; an automated reminder had been sent; a follow-up reminder had been sent; Hux sent a reminder himself. Today, when his agenda noted that Ren still remained unresponsive, Hux hailed him over internal comms. No reply. He called Mitaka in, intending to send him to Ren's quarters, but the poor man had paled at the knight's very name. So, Hux had dismissed him, and undertaken to deliver the message himself.

Hux didn't bother to wonder the reason why Ren wasn't completing the report – undoubtedly it was because he was irresponsible, disrespectful, possibly illiterate – he only amused himself to wonder what foolish excuse would be employed this time. “Meditation,” Hux's mind supplied in a mocking approximation of Ren's voice without that ostentatious helmet, “important Force matters,” “training,” “I was just really tired and forgot :(”

He was just shaking his head disapprovingly at the imagined pout as he drew up outside the door itself. He pressed the button to request entry, pushing it harder than necessary until his thumb joint hurt, as if somehow that would convey through the automated, equalized buzz sound how annoyed he was with Ren taking up his time like this.

The door puffed open, and Hux's mouth was already opened to give Ren a piece of his mind when he realised that the person in front of him was not, in fact, Ren. Instead, stood before him was a woman nearly a head shorter than himself, her long, black hair piled on her head in a decidedly non-regulation messy bun, drawn away from her face, on which was slathered some kind of light pink paste. She was wrapped in a fluffy, pink dressing gown, under which appeared to be heart patterned pink pyjamas.

Hux's planned rebuke of Ren fell away into an, “Uh.” Usually, he had time to prepare himself for any kind of non-work-related interactions, but he had planned to go into this with a clipped, righteous annoyance and come out of it with a self-indulgent bit of riling Ren up, and now that Ren was not available for that, he had nothing.

“Yes?” she said, about as neutrally as Hux supposed anyone would, when called upon while attired as she was.

“I must have the wrong quarters,” was what he managed to reply.

“These aren't mine,” she explained, pointing behind her, around a corner which Hux couldn't see, “You looking for Kylo?”

“Yes,” Hux said stiffly, “is Ren here?”

The woman leaned back inside the door, around the corner Hux still couldn't see. “Kyle!” she called, “visitor.”

“He's not getting up, wet nails!” someone called back, another female sounding voice.

Just what was happening in there? How many women were there, and what were they doing in Ren's quarters, of all places, clad in such unofficial wear? Hux shuddered to think. Was he also going to have to remind Ren of the rules against fraternisation with inferior officers? That was sure to be a fun conversation of Ren not giving a kriff and Hux being able to do little but barb his words and maybe mention the situation to Snoke. Odd, though – Hux had never thought Ren had showed any preference for women... or perhaps that had just been wishful thinking.

The woman before him remained still for a moment, her brown eyes glazing over just slightly in a way which made Hux think she wasn't entirely mentally present. Then the look was gone as soon as it had come, and she frowned, annoyed. “He wants you to leave,” she informed him, “but he wasn't very nice about it, so you're coming in.” She turned and retreated back inside, beckoning casually for him to follow.

After a moment, once Hux's brain had caught up – Ren had just communicated with the woman through the Force, and now he was being invited in against those wishes. He slipped through the door, letting it puff closed behind him.

The first fact of the place was that Ren's quarters were larger than Hux's. Hux had known this, of course – he'd scoffed over the confirmation for the allocation when Ren had first transferred over, perfectly happy to take moderately sized quarters himself – but, as he walked down the grandly inlaid corridor from the entrance antechamber to what was presumably a living space, it contributed to the sense of an impending mystery as to what, exactly, he was about to discover. He hoped it was nothing too debauched.

“You're that General, aren't you?” the woman a step in front of him asked over her shoulder. “Hanks? Hugs?”

“Hux,” he corrected. He disliked intensely when people got his name wrong. He was the General of the ship they were all currently hurtling through space on, he was the General Starkiller – how could she not know who he was? “Who are you?”

“Ushar,” she replied easily. No rank, no designation of any sort, no actual deference to him as a General; all things Hux made a mental note of for later, when he could check the ship manifest.

“Might I ask what you're...”

Hux had begun to speak with an acerbic self-confidence – it was his ship, and he demanded to know what was happening on it – but it all became clear when Ushar opened the door to the central living area and the situation was revealed. It was the second time Hux had been caused to falter in his words in the last five minutes, and he didn't appreciate it. “What is this?” he asked, minorly horrified, as he took in the scene before him.

Ushar shrugged. “Girls' night.”

The room looked like some kind of stereotypical, tacky imitation of a Zeltronian spa had taken over. There were tall glasses of something bubbly scattered around, half-drunk, the bottle chilling in a bucket of ice on the coffee table, which was scattered with cosmetic items. A holo-romance was playing off to the side. Boxes of chocolates fountained forth crunched up wrappers. There were four women – two humans, a zabrak and a twi'lek – lounging around in the pit of cushions the room had been turned into. The cushions were allpink to match the identical pink bath robes and headbands and fluffy slippers the room's inhabitants were sporting. And, at the centre of it all; Ren.

“You...” Hux started, under his breath just enough that no-one would take notice of the stammering. He had certainly not expected this. “I...”

Ren, clad too in pink fluffy bath robe, seemingly with nothingunder it this time, finally took notice that Ushar had led Hux in, as he sat up quickly and angrily, removing slices of some green vegetable from over his eyes. The woman who had been painting his toenails – black, possibly the only thing that could reconcile the Ren Hux was used to with this strange, pink perversion before him – protested, but he ignored her, instead hurrying to his feet and wading his way out of the pillows.

“I told you to make him leave,” Ren growled at Ushar, but the effect was considerably diminished thanks to his appearance. The bathrobe he wore was the short, fun kind of style which only came to his knees; the pink headband kept all his hair back from his face gave him a kooky sort of bird's nest; his face was slathered with a light green version of what Ushar had on, all except for comical spaces around his eyes and lips.

Ushar glared at him. “You shouldn't have ordered me like that, then,” she said, going over to sit next to the zabraki woman, shuffling in closer than was strictly platonic and picking up one of the glasses. “I'm not some stormtrooper.”

“You're ruining the night,” Ren brandished the vegetable slice at her. It wobbled.

“You'reruining the night!” the woman Ushar was sat next to shot back. “He's here after you!”

“Yeah, Kyle,” the twi'lek said from the sofa in a tone that was very much mocking, but still friendly, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Who were these people, that they could speak to Kylo Ren like this and get away with it?

Ren turned back to Hux, glowering. The face paste made him look like a clown. The outside finally reflects the inside, Hux thought to himself while wondering if Ren had waxed his legs or if they were just like that naturally, and had to force himself not to laugh. He obviously didn't mask his expressions quite as well as he should have, however, because Ren seemed to sense that Hux was amusing himself at his expense. Seizing Hux's upper arm in a grip to rival that of a hangar-bay droid, Ren manhandled Hux back to the door of the room, away from the group.

“Unhand me, you oaf,” Hux admonished, shaking Ren off him and lowering his tone a little so as not to disturb the ladies, who, in their disregard of Ren's plumped-up edginess, had endeared themselves to him.

“Why are you here?” Ren demanded before he'd even finished speaking, also at subdued pitch.

“Why are you here?” Hux returned, hissingly. “Who are these people? Why are you not completing the mission report which you have had no fewer than five requests for? Why the hells are your quarters this gods-awful colour?”

Ren took a moment to glare at Hux.

Hux interpreted this as having the upper hand. “Well?”

“I'm not completing any more of your stupid kriffing reports,” he said as if it were obvious. “I told you that already.”

Hux cycled through his memory quickly. He remembered Ren slamming down the last report onto his desk and threatening something similar, but he'd disregarded it, because reports were Necessary, and it was not a possibility for anyone to simply not do them.

“You will do the report,” Hux replied.

“No.”

“You'll do it now.”

Ren snorted. “No.”

Hux bristled. “Ren, I have been forced to come down here – well out of my way – to extract this report from you, only to find you sitting around like some... pampered princess, when I could be-”

“Good point actually, let's return to it. What are you doing down here?” Ren frowned and crossed his arms, but his lips curled cruelly, ready, Hux was sure, to make some insult about his doing such menial work.

“That brings me to the next matter,” Hux plucked the opportunity of throwing in this additional argument, squaring up. “You have intimidated my administrative staff to the point where it is necessary that I waste my time in a way which is thoroughly unacceptable to me.”

Ren widened his eyes in mock sympathy. “Did you forget how to use a comm?”

This only pissed Hux off more, because something about the movement was ridiculously attractive. He wasn't sure whether it was the slight shrug which emphasised Ren's muscular arms, the fact that the pink really brought out the rich shade of his hair, or even the cruelty behind the act itself, but it could not stand.

“I'm quite familiar with the comms system,” he spat, “it seems that you are the one having trouble, since you failed to reply to my hails. As my co-commander,” (Hux had practised in his bathroom mirror not grimacing as he said this) “you are expected to answer your comms when I call. It is highly unprofessional of you to shirk your duty like this.”

Ren momentarily pursed his lips. His next words were caustic. “I don't intend to waste my life away at work like you do, slaving over a tablet until I look like the living dead. At least I know how to relax.”

Hux's eye twitched. “I know how to relax.” An imagined image of himself on his icy blue sofa in his black and red robe, his cat to one side, his data-pad in hand, appeared in his mind. That was relaxing.

“No you don't,” Ren scoffed. “You should see the bags under your eyes. You look more drawn out than all the Starkiller blueprints put together.”

Mentally, Hux's self-image adjusted so that his porcelain skin turned grey, the lines of his face more prominent, the room dark until only he was visible by the harsh light of the data-pad. It could not have been more different than his current surroundings of pink and fluffiness and companionship and soft lighting.

“Get out of my head, Ren,” he said, putting the warping of his imagined scene down to some Force meddling.

“I'm not in your head,” Ren replied, “you're just sad and lonely and jealous that you have to go do a report while I have a nice night with my knights – my friends. You,” he pointed sassily, “could never have this,” he pointed back to the ladies. “Now kriff off, I'm not doing the report. Maybe you should do it yourself, since you have such a boner for that kind of thing.” The door far behind Hux puffed open, presumably manipulated by the Force.

“I expect the report before the end of my shift tomorrow,” Hux said, voice dangerous and low. How dare Ren speak to him like that. How dare he judge what Hux did to relax, while he was being a layabout with these random, cool ladies... doing... fun things like... painting nails and getting tipsy... and watching holo-dramas... and... he wasn't jealous.

“Leave,” Kylo told him.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “You will regret this, Ren.” He turned on his heel and marched from the room, commenting to himself once more as the door puffed closed behind him, “You will regret this.”

[line break]

Kylo watched Hux retreat from the room, waiting until the door had closed to turn and make his way back to his knights. He flopped himself back down onto the floor, jostling Ap'lek's sofa cushions in the process.

“Ah kriff,” he complained as he saw his black-smudged toes stretched out in front of him, “he made me ruin my nail paint.”

“I'm not doing them again,” Trudgen said, tossing the little black bottle at him, shifting around to watch the holo and grabbing a chocolate. “You shoulda been more careful when you got up instead of rushing off to be a bitch.”

Kylo sighed over-dramatically and called out, “Cardo!” She and Kuruk were in the kitchen, probably making an unsightly mess of the place, but Kylo knew only she would be willing to finish the paint for him. Of course, he would have to take the chance that the stuff would end up even more smudged than it already was, and, now he was thinking about it, he would probably be better off just dipping his entire feet in nail polish.

A chocolate wrapper hit the side of his head. He turned to see Ushar had thrown it. “Just do it yourself,” she told him, “it's not like it's hard.”

But he wanted to feel spoiled, that was the whole point of this spa evening anyway. He called Cardo's name again, whinier this time.

“What?!” came the shouted reply, “We're making mug muffins!”

Vicrul frowned, straightening up a little where her arm was thrown around Ushar's shoulders. “In the microwave?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh,” Vicrul shrugged, settling back down again. “Good luck cleaning that.”

Kylo groaned, letting his head fall back onto the sofa cushion behind him. First Hux was on him about a report, then none of his knights would do his nails for him, now Cardo was splattering his lovely microwave with chocolate batter. This was all Hux's fault. Kylo wasn't sure how yet, but it was.

He opened his eyes to see Ap'lek looking down at him, where his head rested by her left elbow. “What's this about a report then?” she asked flatly. Kylo just groaned again and re-closed his eyes.

“You can't be procrastinating this stuff again,” Ushar nagged him over the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a smell of chocolate, and a thunk-clink of a tray with spoons being set down on the table as the cooks brought the muffins through. “Your job is important, here, Kylo. Snoke wants you to do well.”

“To hell with Snoke,” Kylo mumbled, hoping the crusty fart wasn't spying on his thoughts as they spoke. Paperwork was a fate worse than a fate worse than all the Sith hells combined.

“Then we want you to do well,” she continued.

“Plus we blew up so much shit on that mission,” Vicrul added, and Kylo opened his eyes to glare at her as she accepted a mug from Kuruk.

“You have to tell the General about that some time, why not put it in a report? You'd save him lots of time, probably. I bet he'd be so appreciative.”

Kylo accepted a mug proffered by Kuruk and waved it about a bit. “Since when do we care about saving Hux time? I meant what I said, he loves paperwork so much he probably,” he picked up a spoon and stabbed it into the fluffy top of the muffin, watching steam come out as he tried to pick a suitably ridiculous image of Hux. “He probably sleeps with all the files strewn over his bed and like,” he made a face, “rubs them on his body, gets all cozy with them at night. I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure he does paperwork on his data-pad,” Ap'lek said, and she was right, though Kylo resented that she'd killed his roll.

“Just do the kriffing report, Kyle.” Trudgen hadn't pulled her attention away from the holo enough to face him as she'd said it, but apparently had been paying enough attention to comment, “Anything to stop him showing up and interrupting us. Girls' night is a no-business zone.”

Cardo chose that moment to vault over the back of the sofa and land heavily on the cushions. “Ooh, General Hux came over?” she asked cheerfully. Her hands were, predictably, still coated in chocolate powder. “I can't believe I missed him, I want to see if his hair is gelled that solid from close up.” She grabbed her mug and dug into the muffin.

“The General shouts too much,” Kuruk said, sitting cross legged on a cushion by the coffee table. “He should check his blood pressure, it can't be good for him.”

“Hey, a bit like you!” Cardo added, “You must call me through next time. He's cute.”

Kylo opened his mouth – partly to gape at what had just been said, and partly because the muffin was too hot and he hadn't had the impulse control to prevent eating a large spoonful. “Hey!” he started a few times, mouth full and burning. Finally, he was able to swallow. “He is not cute, and there will be no,” he wobbled his mug and spoon in a no-fingered version of quotation marks, “next time.”

“Then do the report,” Ushar shot back.

Kylo made a loud complaint noise.

“He's not gonna do it because he wants the General to come over again,” Ap'lek teased, and, to Kylo's horror, all his knights laughed. Traitors. He didn't want Hux to come over again.

“I don't,” he replied vehemently, “I want him to kriff off and stop annoying me.”

“I think that's against his job description,” Kuruk said, prompting further laughs.

“You should just do it,” Ushar said, getting to her feet after a moment more.

“Hey, where you going?” Vicrul asked sadly, not letting go of Ushar's hand.

“Babe, I gotta peel my face.”

“Wait, let me come with, it's really satisfying.”

The two disappeared off, and Kylo had to add 'his knights screwing in his bathroom' to his list of sub-par things to happen this evening. He wasn't going to do the report. He couldn't be bothered, he didn't want to, he hated writing things and making them sound 'formal'. No, tonight he was going to finish his mug muffin, paint his nails and fall asleep with his knights in front of a trashy holo-romance. Hux would get the hell in eventually and do the report himself. Give it a few more days, and Kylo was sure Hux would drop the issue.

[legoshi-plz]

Pretenses Part 4 (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Part 4. Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine!Dog! Reader.

Warning: Slight NSFW +18 Themes ahead

//////////

Over the next few weeks, you and Legoshi struck up a perculiar yet inevitable friendship. You would love to say it was of natural causes but it wasn’t. The two of you were similar in so many aspects, it would be odd if you two didn’t find kinship in one another.

He was the royal body guard to Princess Azuki and, much like yourself, he was hardly ever allowed a moment of peace. She liked to keep him by her side at all times, which he explained was very stressful because her life was essentially in his hands, leaving no room for error.

“I’m actually glad there’s so many rules and regulations at this palace. Finally there’s some separation and I’m not working at all times.” Legoshi told you one night as the two of you ate together. Whenever neither of you were on duty, he tended to gravitate towards you to try and learn the ways of this land, hoping to fit in. Well, fit in as much as a 6’5 massive Grey Wolf could.

The small number of other Carnivores that Princess Azuki had brought with her were not acclimating quite as well as Legoshi and you could tell they were not fond of the place Carnivores had in this society, mainly with them not being able to be in the castle during the day. You could tell just by your fellow kitchen coworkers that the Herbivore staff was growing antsy as well.

“She never lets you take breaks back in your old land?” You asked.

“No, I have to be at her beck and call almost nonstop. Sometimes it’s like I’m there more for her entertainment than actual protection. Can get a bit tiresome,” Legoshi said in that soft tone of his which was almost an oxymoron compared to how deep his voice was. It was as if whenever he spoke, he was trying to put the person he was talking to at ease. You hated to admit it, but it worked on you every time.

/////////

The more time you spent away from Louis and his bizarre behavior, the more he began to fade from your mind. With how busy you were in the kitchen day and night, you barely gave the Prince a second thought. You also had a new distraction in your life that undoubtedly kept your mind preoccupied.

You and Legoshi quickly became as thick as thieves. You found yourself looking forward to seeing him during any spare moment of the day, even for just a little bit. Which brought you to where you were today, walking with Legoshi around the grounds while you took the too short lunch break you were allotted.

“Shouldn’t you be using your lunch break to actually eat?” Legoshi asked, tugging at your tail as the two of you walked by the garden. You waved to the Carnivores maintaining it, promising to bring them some iced water as soon as you headed back to the kitchens.

“I’m surrounded by food all day and night, I like to savor every moment I can away from it. What about you? Don’t you have a princess to guard?” You teased, playfully swatting his hand away.

“I’m dismissed for the evening. She’s with her fiancé. He doesn’t like me hanging around,” Legoshi smiles fondly, obviously enjoying the indirect free time Louis had granted him. You could see Louis not wanting him around, he did hate Carnivores after all.

‘Especially you...’ a tiny voice reminded you. You brushed it off.

“An entire evening off, I might have to utilize your time for my own gain then,” you smiled as his hand latched back onto your tail.

“Anything you need, just put me to work.” Legoshi smirked as he tugged you closer by your tail. It was incredibly familiar, and some might even say intimate, for one Canine to play with another’s tail yet Legoshi could never leave yours alone.

“Having fun back there? You know it’s not that interesting, you’ve got one too,” you teased.

“Yeah but not like yours. It’s so soft and shiny, it almost reminds me of a-“

“Y/N!” You and Legoshi turned to see the Prince approaching with his fiancé by his side. She looked just as infuriated as he did.

“What do you two think you’re doing out here?” Louis sneered, his eyes trained on you.

“My apologies my liege, but Carnivores are mandated to be outside during the day. We were simply walking the grounds outside. We.... we weren’t breaking any rules...” you said awkwardly. Louis knew the rules because his family had been the one to put them in place so why was he so upset?

“You’re supposed to be in the kitchen doing your duties, not frolicking in the gardens with some mutt,” Louis bellowed and you felt your tail slip from Legoshi’s grip as it tucked between your legs.

“My apologies, my liege. I was on my lunch break-

“I don’t care, nor did I ask. Now get out of my sight.” The usual humiliation came in but this time was accompanied by a bitter anger that you weren’t sure how to place. No matter where you were or what you were doing, the Prince always found a way to demean you simply for existing.

You turned to return to your position and Legoshi followed beside you.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“No, you won’t,” Princess Azuki said in an ice cold tone causing Legoshi to freeze. “You’ll stay here and guard us during the rest of our stroll.”

“Ma’am, I was given the afternoon off. By him.” Legoshi said glancing at Louis.

“Well I’m taking it away. Now assume your position.” She snapped and he reluctantly let you go as you resumed your trek up to the kitchen.

You fought your emotions the entire way there until you finally felt calm enough to work.

//////////////

The next morning you found yourself once again with Legoshi. He had come to visit you in your quarters last night after you were done with your duties and hadn’t left since. You’d usually be asleep at this time but you much preferred his company to the inevitable swirling of your thoughts that would have kept you from slumber anyway.

You were sitting inbetween his legs with your back pressed to his chest. Neither of you had said much to one another since the ‘incident’ from earlier that day. It still made your blood boil just thinking about it but having him here with his tail wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on top of your head did make you feel immensely better. It was the first time you’d felt such comfort from another Canine and you were beginning to wonder how you never sought out this type of intimacy amongst your own kind before.

“You smell different, you know,” Legoshi commented suddenly. You could feel the vibrations of his voice rumbling against his chest despite his low volume.

“Different how? Bad different?” You sighed, looking out the window. You maybe had half an hour before sunrise when you’d have to report to the kitchen.

“Not bad, really, just different. When I first got here, you didn’t smell like a Carnivore. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was but now I can. You smelled like the Prince,” Your ears shot up at the statement. It wasn’t that strange to smell like him, you supposed, seeing as how you worked for him personally, however the fact you were taking naps in his bed probably wasn’t exactly deemed appropriate.

Or him kissing you on the balcony either...

“I guess so. Before you guys arrived, he used to make me watch him eat every meal,” you chuckled darkly.

“That... probably explains why you only smell like you now,” Legoshi hummed but you got the feeling he had more to say.

“Something wrong with smelling like myself?” You laughed, elbowing him playfully.

“Of course not, there’s nothing wrong with your scent but uh....” Legoshi was hesitating again, his tail unconsciously wrapping tighter around you.

“H-how would you like to smell like me instead?” Legoshi asked and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Legoshi was asking you to let him.... scent you?

“You...? You mean like-”

“Yeah,” Legoshi answered quickly.

“Wow, had no idea you liked little ole me so much,” you giggled, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

“I don’t see how you couldn’t, I uh thought it was pretty obvious,” Legoshi muttered and now it was your time to feel embarrassed. A boy had never confessed to you before but then again there weren’t many domesticated male animals that worked in the palace and even then they were usually kept far away, doing more labor intensive work. You had never imagined that someone so high in the Canine class like a grey wolf would ever have interest in a common, lowly dog like yourself.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt the cool temperature of Legoshi’s nose burrowing softly along your scent gland.

“Is this okay?” Legoshi’s voice rumbled, his long arms wrapping around your abdomen to join his tail.

“It’s more than okay,” you sighed, leaning into him. You wished you had more time with him. It was like you could never get enough of being around him, could never get tired of his presence.

When you were with Legoshi, everything seemed to just fall into place.

//////////////

“Here ya go,” One of the Gazelles from your station, handed a platter of assorted cheese, veggies, and spreads.

“Where’s this going?” You asked taking it off her hands.

“Where d’ya think it’s going? Straight to the Prince. Apparently the food we serve in the dining hall isn’t good enough for ‘em,” she rolled her eyes before walking off. You huffed, preparing yourself for the inevitable trek to his quarters.

You knocked on the door of his study and entered, wordlessly setting down the tray in its usual spot on a side table by the window. You were about to make a silent exit but Louis was not having that in the slightest.

“And where do you think you’re going. I didn’t dismiss you nor did I give you any proper instructions. Now pick up that tray and set it in front of me,” Louis sneered.

God you were so sick of his mind games.

You did as you were told, setting the tray in front of him only for him to grab your arm as you tried to retreat. He stood suddenly at full height, his towering figure intimidating, even to a Carnivore such as yourself. You tried to shrink away from him but he had your arm in a deathgrip.

“Why do you....?” He leaned forward, his face nearly in your neck as he inhaled deeply. His face took on a look of horror as he leaned back. “Y-you’ve been scented!”

“My Prince, this isn’t appro-”

“Cut the bullshit, Y/N!” Louis snapped and you cringed away from him. “It was Azuki’s fucking lapdog, wasn’t it?”

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed. Louis’s grip on your arm had turned from uncomfortable to down right painful. His eyes were lit with rage and you had honestly never seen the Royal this decomposed. Usually his anger was tactical, reserved yet percise. The state he was in now could be described as nothing less than a blind fury.

He didn’t waste a second as he dragged you out of his study and to his personal bed chambers. He kicked the door close behind him and then proceeded to throw you into his bed. Before you could even get your bearings, he was ripping off your uniform.

“My liege, my liege please! Don’t do this, I-”

“Shut up! Has he had you? I have to know if he’s had you!” Louis had completely ruined the lower half of your uniform and was about to rip your underwear off in the same fashion before he seemed to think better of it. He then grabbed you by the thighs and dragged you closer to the edge before getting down on his knees. He brought his snout to your core and inhaled deeply.

You were humiliated beyond belief and shocked into silence at his bizarre actions. Your mind struggled to keep up with whatever the hell it was he was doing.

“He hasn’t defiled you yet, at least not recently.” Louis huffed, his anger still simmering but not as erratic as before.

“I’m going to ask you this only once and if you lie to me, you and every single Carnivore in this vicinity will pay the price,” Louis said darkly, “Has he fucked you?”

“N-no,”

“Did you let him touch you?”

“P-prince Lou-”

“Answer the question!”

“Y-Yes,”

“Where? Be percise.” Louis was fuming but there was another emotion bubbling to the surface: desperation.

“M-my tail. My neck. H-hands...” you trailed off awkwardly.

“Has he kissed you?”

“No, never,” you could see the tension physically leaving Louis’ body as he gazed down upon you.

“So he hasn’t touched you here?” Louis asked, his hands sliding up to fondle your chest lightly through the ruined uniform.

“N-no, sire,” you could feel your lower abdomen flutter at his touch.

“What about here?” His hands trailed down to your exposed thighs. You shook your head.

“And here?” He asked, his voice thick with lust. His fingers brushed against your clothed entrance, the thin fabric of your panties offering no resistance to his intentional administrations. You choked on a moan as he applied pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“N-no, my prince,” you gasped, attempting to clench your thighs together but he wasn’t allowing that at all.

“So you’re still my good girl?” Louis urged, increasing the pace of his hand.

“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip trying to hold back more embarrassing moans.

“Then say it,” Louis taunted, pinching your clit in slight pain.

“I-I’m your good girl,” you panted, eyes fluttering close.

Louis leaned over and kissed you right as he pulled your panties to the side and slid one long finger inside you. You gasped at the intrusion allowing him to shove his tongue down your throat with ease. He added another finger inside of you as he proceeded to give you the sloppiest, most erotic kiss of you life (not that you really had anything to compare it to other than the time he kissed you on the balcony.)

You were grinding against his hand while openly moaning into his mouth, beyond the point of trying to mask how turned on you were. Louis finally broke the kiss so that the two of you could catch your breath. He slid his fingers out of you, causing you to whimper in protest at their removal. He then stuck the glistening digits in his mouth, licking them clean of your juices. You looked down to see the Prince was straining with his own sense of control, his pants tenting with his own unsatisfied member.

“I’m forbidding you from seeing him,” Louis declared, adjusting his uncomfortable ‘visitor’ so that it wasn’t so noticeable.

“W-what?”

“You’re forbidden from seeing him. Or any Carnivore male for that matter. I won’t have them deflower you and that’s final,” Louis said, turning to walk away.

“You can’t do that, sire! I’m a Carnivore! I’m supposed to be with my own kind! I’m not your personal pet you can torment just because you’re bored!” You huffed, standing up from his bed.

“Exactly, but you’re too stupid to realize you’re so much more than that.” Louis scoffed, cutting his eyes back at you.

“I’m not stupid! And I’m not going to just sit here and let you just continue to humiliate me day in and day out. Not anymore. I quit,” you adjusted your uniform as best you could but Louis stood in front of the door that served as the only exit and he seemed to have no intention of moving.

“You can’t quit. I won’t allow it,”

“I don’t care what you allo-

“Let me rephrase this in a way you’ll understand then. You’re not to leave this room under any circumstance. And if you do, I’ll have you arrested for treason against the royal court and you can spend the rest of your days in the dungeons with the murderers and theives,” Louis apprehended you for a moment in case you were going to try and make a run for it but you were stunned into silence. He then turned and left his quarters, a loud resounding click ringing through the air next signified that he had indeed locked you in.

You were trapped in every sense of the word.

///////

[nikkywrites]

hand in marriage prompt

Prompt: “Explain how you eldest child of the kingdom’s rulers, disguised yourself as a suitor and fought for your own hand in marriage in a competition, and won” by @writing-prompt-s

Minor spelling/grammar edits.

*****

Your father’s hands shake behind the podium when he announces the competition. It is an age old custom, one that has fallen out of practice but one that is being revived in an attempt to win back the people’s favor.

They are on the verge of a revolution, a coup. Granting people a chance at the throne is the only way to settle them, keep peace.

Disaster will strike if any of them take the throne.

You’re sitting pretty at his side, smiling demurely at the crowds before you like your mother taught you. Heat swells in your palms as you listen to the barely-even tone of your father’s voice.

The crowd cheers jovially, each hoping that they will be the one to take the throne. His speech ends and you all retreat back to the castle, your youngest brother tugging at your skirts with wide-eyes, wondering why your father’s shoulders collapsed down as soon as he was out of sight of the public.

“It’s all right, John,” you soothe him, a burning determination taking root in your chest. “I’ll fix this.”

You pry his fingers off and pass him to his caregiver, and he goes off to change out of the stifling clothes. You jog up your father with skirt bunched in your fists.

“Father,” you speak conversationally, ever wary of prying ears and slowing to match his pace. “Would it be all right if I entered a person of my choosing into the competition?”

His eyes spark like lightning when he looks at you, frowns. “That defeats the purpose,” he says, although you recognize careful royal-bound wording when you hear it. “You cannot choose your groom. It is too risky.”

“I won’t be choosing anyone,” you reply, nodding. “Stack the odds against them, if you must, but the others will be invigorated knowing that they are not the one in my favor.”

He mulls over your words, eyes running over the expansive halls. “I do not choose who makes it in,” his eyes settle forwards and he avoids looking at you. “But the Gamemaker will be having a luncheon with us the day after next.”

Being royal has taught you many things — the order of silverware, how to smile in the face of political ruin, how to word insults like compliments and how to decode the unspoken.

You stumble a step and fan your face. “I’ve been feeling a little warm, lately.” Your stride falters and fails to match his, dragging you behind as you tug at the tight wrap of your corset. “Must I be present at the luncheon?”

“I’ll make the servants aware that you’ll be retired to your rooms.”

He continues on to whatever he’s going — most likely to plan out the competition stages, speak with the Gamemaker to begin choosing eligible men. You turn and walk to your rooms, gait long and even.

There’s a hidden drawer in your closet. Hidden behind the puffiest of your dresses, there is a shelf of plainer clothes, borish pants and loose-fitting shirts. Peasant clothes. Boy clothes. A stack of caps that hide the length of your hair and the pristine golden sheen of it.

They’re not the clothes you go to change into, instead sliding into your riding clothes and tying your hair away from your face in an updo the public would gasp at the messiness of.

For appearances, you’re supposed to be regulated to your room, playing sick. You sneak into the stables and to a young guard you’ve sort of befriended who works there. He has his own horse, a gangly mare named Sandy that doesn’t compare to the royal-bred horses, but she’s sweet and she’s fast and that’s enough for her to stay.

She’s the horse you practice hard riding on. You’re taught proper side saddle riding from your tutor, but the guard has taught you how to gallop across a field while making yourself a small target. He teaches you how men ride horses.

Men like the ones who will compete for your hand in a week’s time.

After riding, you practice archery. You’re strained, and your fingers shake, but if you can hit a bullseye like this, it’ll be easier when you have a steady hand.

During luncheon, you sneak out of your room and switch a name from the jar. It’s a boy’s name, completely ambiguous and too common to pinpoint to a specific house on a week’s notice. It is one that’s carefully picked, and when they are announced at the end of the week, you don’t smile any more or less for that name than you do the others.

Thankfully, you’re not obligated to be present, and, even if you were, you have a loyal maid who is similar in feature, enough to fool anyone at a distance. You keep up your charade of sickness, while you slip on your boyish clothes, dusted brown from when you had a maid rub it in the dirt. Only those who lived in the palace had pristine white on their clothes. The leather covers it up quite well, though.

There are three legs to the completion. Riding, and mounted archery in the first, to emulate a hunt, although the targets stand still. The second leg is battle tactics, a game to test one’s strategic thinking, how they would manage armies in the face of war. The third is a fight among those who remain.

The competition is hard.

It’s supposed to be, of course, they’re competing for your hand and your father’s crown. That doesn’t make it any easier, but you have an advantage they don’t. You’ve been training, and that guard is a good teacher, or maybe you’re just a fast learner.

But you outrace and outshoot them in the first leg, grinning cockily and fighting the urge to blow a kiss to the losers.

Of the twenty men who joined, you among them, sixteen pass the first test. The war game is where many fail, underestimating a threat or losing too many troops. That one is easy for you, effortless. The number of men left is halved.

In the final part, most of them want your head. You realize that you should have held back some, in previous matches, to not make yourself such a large target, but it is too late now. It’s a bracket system where only the winners proceed and the peasants pay a week’s wage to watch (and bet on) who will become their next King.

You all fight in turns until only one is left. The sword you are given is steel, heavy and too long, unbalanced in your hand. Your first opponent — you will beat him, at the very least — seems happy to see how you struggle.

You’re the third pair to square off, and though he is bigger, you are faster. Your blades clash and you twist so your blade swings around to rest against his neck. It is over quickly.

You eye the other matches, your opponents and how you can defeat them. The one you had faced in your first match appears to not have been one of the more skilled ones. Pity.

As you step back into the ring for your second match, you become aware of the throb in your wrist. Using the wrong blade and swinging it a little too swiftly, making so you had to abruptly pull back so you didn’t chop off your opponent’s head had taken it’s toll.

You ignore the subtle pain and clench your jaw, doubling as a means to focus and a way to harden out the shape of it. You will not lose, no matter which stops you have to pull.

Even if you must rely on your family secret to save you.

It would be a dirty move to pull, knowing that they have no such talent and that if they did, they would have strategically dropped out in one of the earlier matches. It would be impossible for them to hide their non-humanness from their wife for the rest of their lives.

No. The only ones left were those who wished to take the throne of the King and you, who wanted that seat to remain empty until you decide otherwise.

You will not bow to tradition.

Invigorated, you meet your next opponent in the middle of the ring, spotting how his veins run thick in his hands, weathered from fighting. You narrow your eyes and lift your chin — needless, as you’re not much shorter than any of them there, and you were actually taller than some, something that’s a bane to a girl.

The start is called and you move swiftly. You take careful care to watch your energy levels, making sure to conserve some for your fight, the final one. The man before you, red-faced and ruddy, is merely another obstacle for you to overcome.

His cockiness becomes his weakness, him taking too-big swings that you easily dodge, sneaking in to press your blade to his throat, pressing so drops of blood swell over the edge and drip. Injuries were only frowned upon if major, this was nothing, a scratch that would quickly heal. A measure to remove doubt as you’d left your last opponent spotless.

When Kings were brought to war, when they got so desperate, there was no choice but to spill blood.

The last fight is where things go wrong.

This man is tall, corded with muscle and comfortable with the blade in his hand. His breath comes easily and he appears not to be at all winded, but he must for he won against two others.

Your flaw in this fight is underestimating him and not ducking far enough. He swipes the cap from your head and your hair is visible.

That is the moment that the winner is decided.

Rage leaps up in your throat, pushed by the fear that you’ll be disqualified, and fire rages from your hands and travels the length of your sword to meet your opposer’s arm.

He screams as he loses, dropping the heated blade in his hand, patting at the melting flesh of his arm. You stare at referee stoically, hair hanging in your face, giving him your best glare as he stutters out his results.

“The winner of the princess’ hand...” he shakes, still looking at you and hoping his words won’t cost him his head, watching crowd silent at the new turn, breaths held, “is the princess.”

There is no cheering, no booing, just echoing silence.

You match into the throne room after, loosely circled by guards and the referee. You don’t bother to change into a dress, barely bother to comb your hair out of your face.

Your father needs to hear what you’ve done.

By tradition, you wait outside the door. The referee stutters something about unprecedention, a surprise, what they should do. You can feel your father’s worry through the door.

He recognizes you when you step into the room, still boyish with your clenched jaw and narrow eyes, daring anyone to say anything about your current state of dress.

His face breaks out in relief.

Your family secret is still safe. Your bloodline not to be sullied by mortal blood. Later, your partner will be of your choosing and of your species. You won that right squarely and you will fight again if anyone challenges it.

You are coronated a moon’s phase later. You wear your hair long, some loose and some intricately braided, following tradition in every way but one. When the time comes for the crown to be upon your head, you don’t wear the crown of Queen.

The pastor coronates you with your father’s crown.

You are both Queen and King, until you decide to bequest one of the titles to another.

Until than, your kingdom is yours and no one else’s.

*****

I remember having a hard time keeping this a prompt. Still kind have the urge to do something bigger on this premise, specifically with the inhuman ruling family twist, but I don’t know if it’ll happen.

This is a good run down of how it would be, though. Still good as a prompt.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

the red queen [1/1]

to @profdanglaisstuff​ for the suggestion; to @katie-dub​ for the gut-check and encouragement; to @thisonesatellite​ for existing.

happy (belated) birthday to a beloved friend.  i feel so lucky that we have found each other.

this is a continuation of my space pirates AU, sanguine, adj. ‘hopeful’.  (it also means bloody).  if the earlier parts were a premise pilot...think of this as a procedural.  shamelessly inspired by “the train job” (firefly 1x02) and “the three-card monte job” (leverage 3x09), because i think i am hilarious (sometimes) and i have a writing crush on john rogers.

proximity alert cell block 1138 a good day

AO3

The man was tall and dark. Broody type, scruffy-looking, but he walked into the bar like he owned it. Slid onto a barstool, let the length of his battered greatcoat hang behind him and looked around with piercing blue eyes that missed nothing. Within two seconds he was followed by a woman, tall and broad, beautiful with black hair that curled and hung nearly to her waist, just above the gun she kept holstered there. Their movements had the ease of old reflex: he walked ahead, ready to encounter whatever might come at them first. She stayed close, but behind, ready to watch his back.

The bartender eyed them warily, watched the man’s gaze take in everything. He turned to the woman and asked, “What’ll you have?”

“Whisky,” she said. “Straight.”

He turned to the man and repeated the question.

“Actually, mate,” the man said, with a wink directed not at the bartender but squarely at the vidcam placed over the bartender’s shoulder. “Is it okay if I just sit here until a gorgeous blonde walks in?”

Will Scarlet spit out his drink, drops splattering on the commscreen in front of him.

Where he was watching them, of course. No way was he letting that cheeky asshole off coms or off cams again. Ever.

Ursula snorted.

The bartender rolled his eyes. “Whatever you want, mate,” he said, pulling a bottle from the counter to pour Ursula’s drink. She threw an extra couple of credits on the bartop and shook her head in commiseration.

But the door opened and in walked an objectively good-looking blonde woman. Her hair was shorter than Ursula’s, a bit awkward really, not that Will knew anything about women’s hair, but it was still closer to Federation regulation-length than anything else and it was tied back in the sort of tight tail that the Feds encouraged for anyone with long hair.

She had green eyes and she stopped when the man’s landed on her, cocking her head and smirking.

“You’re kidding me,” Will muttered, taking another sip of his drink. “Smug bastard.”

“Hello, beautiful,” the man said. The woman stepped up to the bar and the man took her hand in his, bending over it to place a kiss in her palm. “Captain Killian Jones, at your service. Can I offer you a drink?”

The bartender’s jaw dropped.

Ursula shook her head and took another sip of whisky, ignoring the scene playing out next to her.

The woman’s eyes glittered. “Listen, Jones--”

“I prefer ‘Captain’,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I bet you do,” she murmured, leaning closer to him until her head was just above his ear. “Touch me again, Captain, and I’ll have you arrested for assault.”

“Is that a threat?”

The woman brushed her red leather jacket so the flash of metal at her hip gleamed and Will saw the bartender take notice. “It’s a promise.”

So did every other patron of the bar.

“Dammit, Killian,” Will groused.

Emma Swan turned and, with a wink of her own, nodded at Will in the camera. The bartender poured her a shot and turned back to the Captain.

Emma drank off the shot and left.

Will exhaled.

“How’s it going?” Robin Locksley walked up behind him, taking a seat in the co-pilot’s chair of the cockpit.

“You know, the usual,” Will muttered.

“Oh god, oh god, we’re all gonna die?” Robin smiled.

“Not yet,” Will said. “Give it time.”

Killian Jones, Captain, looked at the bartender. “A shot of rum, if you please,” he said, and the bartender sighed. Killian was fiddling with something in his hand as he fumbled for the requisite credits and then all of the blood seemed to drain from his face as he went very still, and very pale.

Next to him, Ursula tensed. Reflex.

She looked quickly to the camera and shook her head and Will drew in a deep breath.

“What’s up?” Rob asked, leaning toward him.

“Dunno.” Will shrugged. “Nothing good. You had to go and jinx it.”

From the end of the bar there was a sound.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

It was slow. It was the dripping water of a faucet.

Killian’s jaw muscle twitched and he turned.

The man had long hair, down to his chin in waves, run through with silver. His moustache and beard framed his mouth and tapered off at the sides.

He had piercing blue eyes.

“Hello, Dad,” Killian said.

Will was silent, his mouth hanging open. Next to him, Robin was still.

Emma’s voice crackled over the comm. “Did he just say--”

“Fuck,” Will said.

--

“Hello, dad,” Killian said, keeping his voice calm but feeling the twitch in his jaw and the itch in his fingers. He willed himself to be still, to look the man square in the eye for the first time in--

“I got a out, you know,” Brennan Jones said. “A while ago, in fact.”

Twenty years.

That’s how long it had been since his father left.

“Didn’t see you, though, at the prison colony spaceport waiting to pick me up in that fancy ship of yours,” Brennan said.

Twenty years since Brennan had left, twelve years since he had got caught running cons and games on rich marks on the central planets. The Federation, as Killian knew only two well, did not take kindly to larceny and thieving unless they were the ones doing both and Brennan had been caught, tried--and shipped off to ‘Neverland’.

They said it was a place where time stood still for its inmates, stuck while the world passed them by.

Twenty years.

“Yeah,” Killian said. “Yeah, I was kind of busy. Visiting my mother’s grave, you know. Visiting Liam’s grave.”

Brennan clucked his tongue in a noise that made Killian cringe. A noise that haunted his dreams on his bad nights, of his father’s disapproval, his indifference. Killian hated that noise and hated even more that it still held sway over him.

“All your life,” Brennan said, “you thought you were better than me. Never showed any respect.”

“What, exactly, did you do to deserve respect?” Killian said.

Twenty years, but Brennan still knew about the Jolly Roger, knew where to find him, knew exactly what buttons to push and strings to pull to make Captain Killian Jones feel like an angry child.

What else did he know?

Brennan turned to Ursula and said, with a tip of his head in affected gallantry, “Would you give us a moment? I’d like to talk to my son, here. My good-form, never-break-the-rules-son. Look at him now, yeah? Nothing but his own personal balls-and-bayonets brigade, living off the raggedy edge on the wrong side of the law. Nothing but a pirate, a criminal like his old man.”

Ursula ignored him, looked at Killian. Killian nodded. “Head back. We still have a job to do.”

His hand tightened around the crinkled piece of paper Emma had passed him.

The one with the name of their contact on this job.

Brennan Jones.

He thought of her and he tried to summon the feel of her fingers against his skin as if it would give him strength or hope or succor.

Maybe it did. Ursula’s eyes were black stones of judgment as Killian ran his hand through his hair and met her gaze and then, finally, she nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you,” Brennan called to her retreating back. “Now, about that job--”

--

“Run it,” Killian growled, his voice low and weary.

Emma looked around the cockpit, from Will to Robin to Nemo to Ursula and even to Ariel, who fidgeted visibly, more uncomfortable than Emma had ever seen her.

Whale stood off to the side, his arms crossed, shaking his head.

“Maybe we should discuss it first,” Emma said. “I know I feel a little weird--”

It was more than weird. It was downright uncomfortable. For the first time since she’d stayed with Killian, with the Jolly Roger and its crew, she was unsettled.

(Former) Federation Operative Emma Swan did not do unsettled.

“I don’t.” Killian bit down on the consonants, hard, each one clipped and harsh and as if they were spoken by a stranger. “Come on, Scarlet.”

“Sir--”

“Killian, sometimes you just need to stop and question--” Emma and Will spoke at the same time but then he stopped and looked at her. Emma took a breath and said, “Sometimes you just need to stop and think for a minute--”

“What is this, mutiny? An insurrection?” His eyes hardened. “Don’t ever tell me what to do on my--” Emma hissed, a warning, and Killian took a deep breath. “It’s a job like any other.”

If keystrokes could have emotions, Will’s were angry.

“Stop looking at him as my father,” Killian said.

“Can you?” Emma asked, walking up to him and putting her hand on his cheek.

He jerked away.

“But this isn’t, as you say, a ‘job like any other’,” Nemo pointed out. He was the only one in the galley who looked relaxed, his posture upright as always but with an air of ease that Emma desperately wished she felt. “And not because of who he is. Because of why he’s here.” Nemo gestured at the screen Will had projected on the wall and turned toward Emma. “What’s your professional opinion here, Operative Swan?”

Will had brought up a list of the charges against Brennan Jones: theft, fraud, bribery, smuggling, all across multiple systems.

Child endangerment.

Child abandonment.

Emma looked at Killian.

Killian looked away.

“No way he’s out of Neverland after only twelve years,” Emma said. “So--” her eyes were still on Killian “--trap?”

“Aye,” he said. His eyes flashed with relief and his jaw muscle relaxed. “Set up by someone else to do the dirty work. Blackmail, maybe. That’s how a lot of the big syndicates do things now. Quasi-government entities, some of them. Don’t want the dirty work putting them on the Feds’ radar and interfering with their legit scams. Keeps the blood off their hands.”

“So what’s Brennan’s game here, Captain?” Ursula asked.

Robin scrubbed a hand down his face and drew in a deep breath. “I imagine he’s got a chess board set up just like yours, sir.”

Killian’s answering look was murderous. “More like three-card monte. Keep the cards moving until he’s ready for you to see the queen.”

“Nah, he’s the one on the move.” Will turned around in his chair.

“How in the bloody hell do you know that?” Killian snapped.

“Facial scan, sir.” Will glared. “I tagged him and put my web-crawlers to work on the Cortex. And he just got a call. Sounds like he’s got sources planted across the world, and this one’s tapped into a Fed outpost. Core access across the entire sector, including SOS, maintenance, alarms. Brennan’s pushing him to tamper with it, cross the signals or some such.” Will squinted at his screen and crossed his hands behind his neck. “Your dad, he is not a nice man, is he? Must run in the family.”

The galley was, for one interminable moment, silent.

Robin smacked Will across the back of his head.

“Captain? What’s our play?” Ursula asked.

“Um, I have a question?” Ariel raised her hand. Emma stifled a laugh, and Ursula sighed. “If Brennan did all of these terrible things, blackmail and the like, why did he come here and hire us? If he’s so bad--”

“--what are they using against him,” Emma finished. “Against us. You.” Everything Killian cared about--was here. On the ship.

It was Nemo who answered. “This is about Liam?”

“Isn’t he--” Robin started to say, but stopped.

Dead. Liam Jones was dead, killed in the operation that Killian had fled with the Jewel of the Realm.

Slowly, minutely, Killian nodded.

“You think someone has your little brother?” Nemo spoke slowly in a soothing tone, as if for a small child.

Whale nearly fell over. “The hell--?”

Emma felt her mouth open. She closed it.

Unsettled. She did not like it. She did not like not having all of the information queued up and ready for her and this was something she should have known.

Something Killian should have told her.

A quick glance around the galley suggested that she was not the only one for whom this news was a revelation. She looked at Ursula, who blinked in surprise and looked at Will, who shrugged and looked at Robin, who shook his head. In unison, they all turned to look at Nemo.

“Younger,” Killian corrected him softly, almost as a reflex. “Aye.”

Nemo had eyes only for Killian, his eyes full of care and concern and quiet authority.

“Killian,” Nemo said. “It’s not your job to take down your own father.”

Emma took two steps across the galley and reached for Killian again.

This time, he did not pull away.

“You’re right about that,” Killian said. “It’s my gorram pleasure.”

His fingers tightened around Emma’s until she couldn’t feel them anymore.

--

“Killian, I don’t think we have enough information on your fa--on this guy. Not yet,” Emma said.

There were other things she could say. Maybe too many other things.

How Brennan had found them.

Killian’s younger brother, Liam Jones.

What Nemo knew that she didn’t.

But she didn’t say any of them. Not yet.

They stood out on the pavement in the middle of the city, or near enough--a city that was just big enough to boast the kind of multi-level skyscraper that was normally more prevalent across the Core worlds, but not so big that any of the buildings were in particularly good repair. They stood in the middle of a fair bit of traffic--pedestrians, land speeders, even personal shuttles buzzing in the sky for the gentry who wanted to show off, but not so much or so little that the five of them and their two Mules were memorable.

Emma, Killian, Ursula, Ariel and Robin stood in front of a building rendered completely invisible by virtue of its resemblance to every other building.

“We don’t even know if this is the right place,” Emma said.

Will’s snort made the earpiece crackle and Emma winced.

“I’m sure,” Will said. There was a beep in the background and Will’s voice was serious this time. “Okay, I think I may have an ID on a potential bad guy.”

“We’ve got the bad guy, Scarlet,” Killian said.

Which was part of the problem, as far as Emma was concerned. Brennan had backup and Killian’s instincts seemed to come from a pretty deep gene pool and that made Brennan one very dangerous guy with potentially more dangerous allies. Emma looked at Ursula, who shrugged.

Ursula was always going to back Killian’s play; well, so would Emma.

“Whatever you say, sir, but this guy Jefferson Chepalier has an interesting story to tell. They say he’s some kind of magician, just making things disappear from one place and appear in another. Weapons, credits, pharmaceuticals--you name it, he’s moved it.”

Nemo’s voice chimed in. “I’ve heard of him. Even the Federation is one of his clients.”

Robin’s eyebrows went up in silent admiration and Emma sighed. “I’ve heard of him, too,” she said. “He knows a lot of the right people in a lot of the right places.”

What did Nemo know?

Why hadn’t Killian told them?

Why hadn’t Killian told her?

“Well, seems like they had a bit of an ugly breakup,” Will said. “Busted last month and lost twenty million in merchandise.”

“Sounds like the kind of guy who could get someone out of Neverland,” Emma said.

“Sounds like the kind of guy who needs a big score,” Robin said. “Guys that desperate--”

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Emma agreed.

“Speaking of bad,” Will said. “Here’s some bad news: the system here is old-school. Too antiquated for me to tunnel in and hack.”

Emma rolled her shoulders and moved her neck from one side to the other. But this was nothing they hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t know some of these specs even existed anymore.” Will sounded offended, as though he expected more from his adversaries. “Getting into this would be like hacking a museum exhibit.”

“Which you’ve done,” Robin said.

“Nothing you can prove,” Will said. “In fact--”

Ariel giggled.

“In fact,” Killian interrupted, “it means we’re not going to able to stop him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It means we’re going to have to help him. Just like he planned.”

“We’re on it,” Ursula said as Emma pulled a pair of cuffs out of her inner jacket pocket and stepped toward Robin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Will said. “You just--happened to have those on you?”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Do you always have those on you?” Will asked. “Because--” he paused, presumably watching Emma put the cuffs on Robin “--you are weirdly comfortable doing that.”

“Don’t I know it,” Killian muttered.

Ariel’s mouth dropped open.

“Ariel.” Ursula brought her back to focus. “You’re going in the back. Hook us in manually.”

“And Scarlet,” Emma said, “you keep your mouth shut unless you want me giving Belle pointers when she gets back from Persephone.”

There was an intake of breath over the comm and Killian said, “Shut up, Scarlet.”

“Okay, but--” Robin was resigned as the cuffs clinked into place “--what are we doing here, exactly?”

“All the alarms for the entire Andromache system run through this building,” Will said. “Banks. Private homes. Government systems. Transpo networks. Everything. My guess, Brennan wants to control which alarms get through and which don’t.”

“It’s what I would do,” Killian said. He did not look happy about it.

“It isn’t,” Emma said. “You wouldn’t have gotten us here in the first place.” She wanted to reach for him, to take his hand, to press a soothing palm against his cheek. But she had Robin Locksley in her handcuffs and, apparently, the fate of Killian’s heretofore-unknown younger brother in their hands.

Killian didn’t answer. Didn’t look at any of them, just stared upward at the facade of the building they were about to infiltrate.

“Sir?” Ursula prompted. “We don’t have to do this.”

“We’re the only ones who can,” he said. “Anchors aweigh.”

Emma looked at Ursula, who nodded and gave Robin a shove as they went through the doors.

--

Not only was (former) Federation Operative Emma Swan weirdly comfortable using handcuffs, Robin Locksley was weirdly okay about being cuffed. The whole thing was really weird, Will decided.

At least until--

“Can we hurry up? Being handcuffed in a Fed outpost is a recurring bloody nightmare of mine.”

Never mind, Will thought.

“Scarlet,” Ursula said. “How do we look?”

Will tapped a few keys and leaned forward to peer at the screen. “We will rule over all of this land,” he said. “And we will call it--’This Land’.”

Ariel chirped, “That’s a good thing, right? We’re shiny?” She was breathing slightly heavily from inside a crawlspace, where she had physically tapped the network while Emma, Ursula and Robin distracted the Feds.

“Means we’re tapped into every piece of wire and tech running through that place. We can block alarms, we can set alarms, we can track alarms, all through our own comms network. Nice work--very shiny.”

Ariel clapped her hands in glee.

“Now get the bloody hell out of there--”

The comms broke squelch with a burst of feedback so sharp Will had to shut down the system for eighty-three seconds.

And Killian, that rat bastard, did it on purpose.

Urusla’s voice was the first to break through when he got them back online. “Scarlet?” She was, as ever, sharp and focused. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone,” Emma said, sounding certain.

“Seriously?” Robin said.

“He’s gone,” Will confirmed.

--

“So,” Killian said, “let me tell you what I did.”

He was back in the bar, where Brennan Jones did not seem at all surprised to see him. Papers were spread out across a table in the corner and the bartender kept deliberately not looking their way.

Brennan smirked. “Oh, I already know what you did,” he said. “You let my repairman loose, fine. You think I don’t have another contact? You really think you can beat me? You’re not tough enough. You’re not ruthless enough. You don’t have what it takes, even with your interference--”

“Using a civilian was a dumb brute-force move.” Killian pulled his earpiece out of his ear and a small black box out of his pocket and held them up. “Rigged to the Fed systems. I control it now. I can destroy it. You were saying?”

“Well.” Brennan looked, for the first time, surprised. “That’s--well.”

“You’ve done your homework. You know that I stole the fastest ship in the fleet right out from under the Federation’s nose, so you should also know that I broke into Robert Gold’s space station and broke back out again. Severed his hold on the Federation council. Walked away after he tortured me. If I can do that, imagine what I could to you.”

All of that was true and yet--it had been easier to be tough in front of Gold than it was in front of his own father. He’d been doing that for Emma.

He wished she was here.

They were better as a team.

But she didn’t need to be a part of this. Not this. Killian didn’t want Brennan Jones even looking at her. More importantly, he didn’t want Brennan’s allies--whomever they were--knowing who she was.

“I did my homework too, dad. Where’s Liam?”

Brennan cleared his throat. “You’re being a wise guy with me?”

“What was it you used to say? ‘You’re too much of a planner, Killian. You have to be tougher to survive’. You’re so tough, prove it.”

Besides, Killian Jones always had a plan.

Behind him, Killian heard the sound of an old-fashioned revolver being cocked. He was, for a second, disappointed.

So predictable.

He looked around, started to turn--

Was stopped by an elbow to the back of his head.

After that, blackness.

--

“How long until we hit Paradiso?” Killian asked.

The train whipped through the countryside on the mag-lev track and Emma checked the map on her screen. “Another twenty minutes,” she said. “You should be at the foothills in five.”

“You’re sure?” Robin asked for the twentieth time. “You’re sure this was the plan?”

“He’s sure,” Emma and Ursula spoke at the same time, for all that Ursula was down on the train with Killian and Emma was in the cockpit of the Jolly Roger.

She wanted to be with him.

They were better as a team.

But that wasn’t the plan, and she was part of something now--part of a crew.

“Saw the maps,” Killian reminded them. “Had blueprints laid out for house party on Boros--some gentry have got a Lassiter there.”

“I’ve always wanted one of those,” Ariel said wistfully.

“Next time,” Killian said. For the first time in days Emma thought she detected a smile in his words. “And then there was a set for a hospital on Athens,” Killian said.

“Too much work. Not enough payoff,” Nemo murmured.

“Exactly,” Killian said.

“Three-card monte,” Emma said. “He wanted you to see.”

“Exactly,” Killian said again, and smiled this time.

“What’s the cargo?” Ursula wanted to know.

“No clue,” Killian said. “But since Chepelier was there--save the speech for later, Scarlet--I’d reckon it’s something that will get him his twenty mil back. And I’ll have some words for him about hitting me when we meet.”

“Something that requires an entire Fedsquad sitting on this train,” Ursula said.

“Not an entire squad, Ursula,” Killian said. “Just a few. Just enough to make it fun.”

“When those alarms go off,” Emma said, “it’s gonna be Armageddon.”

“That’s the idea, love,” Killian reminded her.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Only I think you have a bit of a problem with your brain being missing.” She paused for a beat and then said, seriously, “Killian, it’s not too late to sit this one out.”

Behind her, Emma felt Nemo’s hand on her shoulder. He squeezed.

Killian didn’t answer. He said, “Start flying with the hatch open. Keep her steady, Locksley.”

There were no guards in the train car, just stacks of crates and baggage. Killian went in first and Urusla followed, sliding the door mostly shut behind them but leaving it slightly ajar as Ursula turned to fiddle with a canister she pulled from her satchel and the wires hidden in the door panel. Killian moved toward the center of the car, waiting for Ursula to hand him the screw gun.

He stopped and examined a particular stack of crates and then began to climb them, gently, stopping when he could reach the ceiling. Three corrugated iron panels stood between them and the open sky and soon there was not even that, as Killian put the gun to one of the rivets in the center panel and triggered it.

It made a sickening noise and Killian winced.

“Find the cargo,” he said.

“Thanks for the reminder, sir,” Ursula said.

Killian smirked and pulled the gun down, removing the rivet stuck in it before starting on the next, moving methodically from one to another until the last one is free and he lowered the panel as gently as the could.

It made a bit of a clatter, and Killian winced.

“Sir--” Ursula called, pointing at a stack of boxes.

“Shiny,” Killian whispered. “Brilliant. Get it over here.”

He had barely finished speaking when the net dropped into the hole in the roof of the train.

“Fifteen seconds,” Emma said.

The canister popped just when the wire pulled.

Immediately, there was a ringing noise that echoed through the train car.

“Alarms are set,” Scarlet said, his voice grim. “Feds on your door and Brennan--”

“I’ll worry about Brennan,” Killian said as the door opened fully and the gas released by Ursula’s canister blinded the Fed sent to investigate. With movements both precise and brutal, Killian disarmed him and had him on the ground, unconscious, in seconds.

He and Ursula closed the door behind them just as the comm started blaring and the train began to slow as they pulled into Paradiso.

--

Brennan Jones walked up to the makeshift processing site outside of Paradiso.

It was utter chaos.

Every person around him was screaming into a comm. “What do you mean, we’ve got another alarm call--a third one?!!--multiple code ones at the following sites--roll out--send backup--every available unit!”

It was the house party full of gentry on Boros that sweetened the deal. Feds wouldn’t normally roll out for a bunch of hicks coming in from Hancock. Alarms going off on Boros, on Athens, across Regina--that was a different story.

All hail the might Federation, though it was a shame about the Lassiter. That would fetch a tidy fortune on the black market.

Next time.

--

(Former) Federation Operative Emma Swan walked into the makeshift processing site the locals had set up outside Paradiso.

Where the train had stopped.

After some thieves put a hole in the roof.

It was utter chaos, every person around her screaming into a comm, Feds literally walking in circles--

Except for the poor, understaffed local constabulary, who had been left to deal with the passengers.

Killian and Ursula were off to the side, cuffed and under the watchful eyes of someone who looked like a local sheriff. He looked tired, and frustrated--was likely both of those things, now the Feds were off the train and in his backyard--and did not manage to keep his sigh inaudible as she approached.

Emma flashed her badge fast enough that the lawman wouldn’t be able to get a good look at the code designation that was now invalid. She gave him a half-grin as she did so, carefully calculated.

Empathetic. Brisk. Efficient.

Not here to ruin his day.

She was here to save it, in fact, but he had no way of knowing that.

“You Nolan?” she asked, and he gave her a wan smile. “I’m Swan.”

--

Brennan watched the scene playing out before him.

“No, I can’t send confirmation,” a particularly harried ensign snapped. “This is an all-network alert! Cargo theft--”

Brennan hovered genially near the harried-looking ensign, a petite woman with her hair tied in a regulation-style knot, and smile the kind of smile that was warm enough but completely unmemorable as he waved a datapad in the air with a kind of ‘what can you do’ shrug.

The ensign barely spared him a glance before waving him away, his presence already accounted for and forgotten, and Brennan inched closer to the train, where he was met by a tall blonde man in a uniform who asked, bored, “Status?”

Brennan handed the datasheet over, a transfer order flickering across its surface.

“You’re expecting me,” Brennan said. “Evidence transfer.”

“That’s right, you bastard,” Will muttered at his tablet. “Captain, are you sure--”

“You know the plan, Will.”

“We could just tell the Feds--”

“Oh, I’ve got him,” Killian said. “Gonna look him in the eye when he goes down.”

“Evidence transfer,” the blonde man said, frowning as he looked at the datasheet. “About that--”

He stopped as Ariel, her hair out of its knot, came up behind Brennan Jones, tapped him on the shoulder, and punched him.

Victor Whale pulled off his uniform cap and winced. Ariel was tiny, but she packed a right hook like a freight train.

“Ooooooof,” Will murmured.

--

Emma thought she heard the sheriff mutter about gorram time but not loud enough she had to acknowledge it. “You know there’s a whole spate of robberies across the system today,” she said casually. “Alarms going off anywhere.”

Implied: you’re lucky I showed up at all.

“Rumor has it they were after millions,” Nolan said. “You here for evidence holding?”

Emma only just managed to keep the sneer off of her face.

“Evidence holding”. That’s what the Feds were calling it now.

Emma shrugged. “Above my paygrade. I’m just here for those two.” She nodded with her chin at Ursula and Killian.

“I knew something about his story smelled,” he said, shaking his head and checking his datapad for the passenger manifest.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Emma said, sending a surreptitious wink toward Killian. “It’s not the only thing about him that does.”

In her earpiece she heard him chuckle.

“They’ve been bound?”

“Not yet,” Nolan said. “I--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma said. “You just get the rest of these citizens back on this train and on their way. I’ll take care of them.”

--

Ariel shrugged and ducked as Brennan made a pass at Whale and she pulled out a tranq gun--

“That’s enough, Ariel,” Killian said, walking up behind them, a cuff dangling from one wrist while he worked the other free. “It’s going to end right here, dad. You ready? Let me tell you what I did.”

“How did you know?” Brennan looked--bemused.

Almost impressed.

Killian reached into his greatcoat pocket and removed a small black box wired to an earpiece.

“Let’s try this one more time, shall we?”

--

“What’s the trick to three-card monte?” Killian asked, advancing on his father. “The red queen’s never even on the table. But it was a nice move, dad, knocking me out. Letting me deduce your plan. I didn’t even need this--” he held up the black box, pulled from his pocket “--to get inside your head. And all the time, you’re playing me. Playing my crew.”

Ursula, Ariel and Whale stood behind him and Will laughed at the screen. Big damn heroes.

“You tried to make me a pawn in your game. You tried to make Liam a pawn in your game. But here’s the thing, dad: you’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played. And I always know. You taught me that.”

“Twenty million is a lot of money, Killian,” Brennan said.

Killian exhaled a laugh through his nostrils. “It’s not about the money. It never was. You’re not working for Jefferson Chepelier. You’re working around him, trying to get the bigger score. Get his merchandise to a better buyer, the kind of buyer who will pay top dollar and let you sail off into the black forever. A buyer like Cora Hart.”

Brennan stilled and Killian smiled.

“My people are going to take down Chepelier and Cora Hart. We have your cargo. What was it you always used to say?” Killian’s mouth contorted as he imitated his father’s voice. “‘You’re too much of a planner, son.’”

Killian leaned forward, his hands resting on his belt.

“The cargo is already on the way to a contact of ours,” he said. “Because if you’d done your planning, father, you’d have known that I have certain understandings in place between my crew and the Federation Council. And Regina Mills. You’ve heard of her, right? Cora Hart’s daughter? She was thrilled to get her hands on this kind of leverage against Cora.”

“What about your brother?”

“What about him? He was never in danger, not from you, and not from Chepelier,” Killian said. “Just another jack being shuffled--a distraction--but he’s safe. Far away from you and now with the protection of a pirate--” Killian bit the word “--and a Federation Councillor. You’re never getting near him again, and any minute now, the Feds are gonna come and--”

“--arrest both of us,” Brennan said.

“What for?” Killian held up his still-cuffed wrist. “I’ve sent the cargo on already and I have an alibi.”

“I’m not going back to Neverland,” Brennan said.

“That’s fine.” KIllian pulled a gun from his jacket pocket. Ariel made a sound like a sad cat, mewl. Whale swore under his breath.

“You can’t do this,” Brennan said, and chuckled. “I could, but you’re your mother’s son.”

Killian cocked the gun at the exact second Ursula said, simply, “Sir?”

And he looked at her.

Looked at Ariel, at Whale.

Looked up into the camera and Will sighed.

“Let him go, Killian,” he heard Emma whisper. “I’ve got your back. We’ve got your back.”

Killian hesitated; his hand shook and Emma wished so desperately she could take it in hers, put her thumb against his wrist and press a gentle, calming circle there.

“Killian,” Emma said, “be a better man than your father.”

--

Brennan Jones stood at the edge of the station along the train tracks but the train had, literally, already left the station.

Emma Swan walked toward him with Nemo keeping stride, Sheriff Nolan walking ahead of them both.

“Brennan Jones,” Nolan drawled, “you are bound by law.”

Brennan’s eyes widened in startled recognition as he looked at Emma and he smiled.

“Am I though?” he laughed. “Am I really? Check your codes again, Sheriff. She’s not a Fed, or whatever she says she is--she’s a thief.”

“Ran it twice,” Nolan said. “She’s clear.”

“Go ahead, Sheriff,” Nemo said. “One more time. We don’t mind. Authorization code one-zero-two-six. Scorpio.”

With a put-upon shrug Nolan swiped across the datapad and held it up. Federation Operative Emma Swan flashed across the screen with a photo and an arrest warrant. Emma enjoyed watching him as it hit him, the blood draining from his face and his tongue darting out to lick his lip. Brennan ran a hand through his hair in a gesture uncannily like Killian.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in quite the robbery, Mr. Jones,” Sheriff Nolan said. “I’ve got orders here to put you in custody and send you back to--” his eyes widened and he clucked his tongue against his teeth as he shook his head “--Neverland. Well.”

“I didn’t do it,” Brennan said, pointing a finger at Emma. “I’m innocent.”

Emma rolled her eyes dramatically and shared a smirk with the sheriff. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Everyone’s innocent in Neverland.”

“Sheriff,” Brennan was pleading. “She’s not who she says she is. She’s a--”

Nemo grabbed his arm and twisted it, making Brennan wince.

“My own son,” Brennan said. “More ruthless than me. Crueler than me.” His eyes hardened and something unpleasant glittered in his irises. “You tell my son,” he muttered. “You tell my him--”

Emma turned away, waving at Nolan to step forward with the cuffs.

“--tell him I’m proud of him.”

Emma turned back. “Enjoy Neverland.”

--

Killian exhaled as he turned the ship’s wheel, piloting the Jolly Roger out of orbit and closer to the surface of Persephone. Emma stood behind him, looking out the cockpit windshield. The sun was setting and it refracted through the atmo.

“Well, that’s a joyful sight,” Killian muttered, looking up at Emma.

“Gotta love a sunset,” she sighed.

“That too,” he said. And winked.

“Almost like coming home,” Emma said, her fingers scratching and lazy at the back of his neck. He shivered.

Home.

She was his home. This was his family.

“We sniff the air,” he reminded her. “We don’t kiss the dirt.”

“Noted, Captain,” she said. “But I wasn’t planning on the dirt-kissing. Sir.”

“I wouldn’t stand for it anyways,” Killian said. He locked the wheel into place and pushed back in his seat, smiling up at her the entire time as lightness rushed through his body. “Jealous man like me.”

“Hey--eyes front, please,” Robin said, walking in and making a face. “Planet’s coming up a mite fast. You’re coming down too quick. Likely gonna crash and kill us all.”

Killian stood up and pulled Emma’s hand into his. His eyes never left hers.

“That happens,” he said to Robin, “let me know.”

--

“Hey,” Emma whispered, pushing the fringe off of Killian’s forehead as he opened one bleary, sleepy eye and stared at her. They were a tangle of limbs and sheets in the berth. “You were some kind of hero today, Jones.”

He nuzzled into her hand and wrapped her more tightly against him. “Mmmmm.”

It was not agreement.

“Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column,” Emma said, bending so her lips brushed against his ear. “Killian?”

“Mmmm?”

“Will you tell me about him, someday?” Killian’s eyes opened, both of them, and he stared at her in surprise. “Your younger brother?”

He stilled and then exhaled, a brush of warmth against her palm. “Aye, love. Someday. But not today, yeah?”

Emma snuggled herself against him, dropping her head to his shoulder. “Someday,” she agreed.

They had all the time in the world.

--30--

@quirkykayleetam​

[golden-deer-dear]

Into Light - Claudeleth Fanfic for fatcatsarecats

Summary: There was a freedom in this Byleth had never known before. She had thought once, the night that Mahtab took her vows and laid her bare, that she was not meant for peace. She had thought she could never be content with such a thing. But Khalid had given her his heart, and she in turn had reclaimed her own unbeating one.

or

Byleth runs away with Khalid, fleeing from his father, and attempts to carve out her own bit of happiness for them.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Family, Pregnancy, Fugitives

Notes: For @fatcatsarecats! Thank you so much for the commission! I hope you enjoy it!

If you would like to commission me, please check out my info here.

Previous work - From Shadows AO3

Into Light

“We need to go now, before your father is told. He won’t let me leave his side once he knows.”

“You’re going to fall asleep at the reins again if you don’t sleep.”

His lips tugged at the soft voice, the smile still strange even when they had come so often these past few months, as she gently roused him from his memories. Khalid bent his head, kissing dyed blue locks, and held Byleth tighter to his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have infinite stamina.”

“Mmm,” Byleth hummed. Despite the tone of disapproval, he felt her own lips smiling as she pressed a kiss against his jaw. “The stars are bright out.”

“I was watching them,” Khalid explained, his fingers lazily running through Byleth’s hair. 

Byleth shifted in his arms, resettling herself so she could better gaze with him. Together with her, in the back of their travel cart, under the guise of a traveling merchant and his wife with all their royal trapping stripped away, Khalid felt rich and fulfilled.

“That is Shamil, the first wyvern,” he said, arm raised as his finger traced out the constellation’s pattern.

Byleth hummed again, retracing the stars and pulling more into the pattern. “It's the Immaculate One,” she countered.

This was not the first time they had this discussion, Khalid knew exactly how it would go, but he longed for the gentleness, the playfulness that brought a smile to her face, and so he would repeat it over and over again.

/

“What did you think you were going to accomplish?”

Any hopes Mahtab had of this being a happy reunion were instantly torn asunder. He turned his gaze away from Tiana, squeezing his eyes shut as he rested his head in his hands. “Did you really travel hundreds of miles just to berate me, my love?” He knew he sounded defeated, but he was too tired to hash out old arguments that had led him and Tiana to this point.

Her movements smooth and regal, Tiana sank onto the lounge with him, her knees close enough that Mahtab could feel the phantom touch of them. He longed to reach out and hold her in his arms the way he had when they were first married, whispering sweet nothings and sharing secrets with her long into the night. 

But that was years ago. They had grown distant since, and Mahtab could not pinpoint the change. “When did we become strangers, Tiana?”

Tiana went stiff, her fingers clenching fistfuls of her dress. He could see her jaw work, fighting to hold back that hot temper of hers. “Do you really not know?”

Mahtab sighed heavily and looked up into her face. There was a storm in her eyes, those emerald orbs she had given to their son, anger and sorrow battling for dominance. “I don’t,” he was forced to admit.

Tiana echoed his sigh and forced her fingers to uncurl. “You stopped fighting for us.” Mahtab remained silent, knowing there was more to come. It seemed there were still parts of Tiana that she would show him, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide from the rest of the world. “After Khalid’s....incident, you stopped fighting. Khalid could not take the throne, I understood this, but I could not understand why you regulated him to a shadow. Why you withdrew from me when I needed you most. I left behind all I knew for you, but you left me.”

Mahtab opened his mouth to protest, to offer some form of defense, but Tiana held up a scarred hand. He could remember how she received each and every one of them, recounting the battles with terrifying clarity. “I did not come here to discuss us. I came here to discuss our son.”

“He is not my son anymore,” Mahtab spat out. The quill had quivered in his hands as he signed the decree disowning Khalid, but Mahtab was left with little choice. He could not let the theft of one of his wives, one who was considered a goddess reborn at that, go unpunished. “Khalid is a fugitive now. Nader will bring him back to face justice.”

Tiana turned on him, and Mahtab braced himself, recognizing as the wall cracked around her temper. “Nader? You would truly do that to them? To ask the man who is more of a father to Khalid than you have ever been to bring him back for execution?”

Mahtab stood, his own temper flaring at Tiana’s words, but while she burned like the sun, his was winter’s chill. “I chose Nader because I know he will remain loyal to me, unlike the son you gave me.”

Tiana held herself tighter, back going rigid, as the harsh words swept over her. “No.” Those emerald eyes bore into Mahtab, the only ones that would not flinch away from his rage. “As much as I wish you to be a fool, I know you are not. You are testing them.” She spun on her heel and headed for the door.

Mahtab did not even think when he reached up to grab her arm, halting her retreat. Never before in his life had he begged, but then, Tiana’s departure from his life had never seemed so final. “Tiana,” he whispered, the word dragged out of a ragged throat, “I would fix this if I could.”

There was a long pause as Tiana’s eyes slowly traveled from where his arm held her back up to his face. The brightness, that clever spark of wit she had passed to their son, was no longer there. “Mahtab,” she finally sighed. Her hand raised to his cheek, and he leaned into her savage warmth. The kiss she pressed against his lips was one of finality and departure. “I failed your test years ago. If it means saving Khalid, I will fail it again.”

She had chosen, and so Mahtab let her go.

Losing Byleth was a political embarrassment. Losing Tiana was equivalent to a mortal blow.

And Mahtab had not held onto his kingdom for so long by simply rolling over and accepting a situation that was not to his benefit. 

A moment later found the fearsome King of Almyra racing for his guard, ordering them to halt Tiana at the gates. Curse that stoic goddess for making him complacent. And curse the fallen star his son had become. He was a war lord, a conqueror. He would not let go of what he wanted without a fight.

/

“By.”

Byleth turned as Khalid called her name, the shortened version he had taken to calling her when they were out in public now. She blinked at him, the only show of her surprise, when Khalid pressed something against her lips. Byleth opened her mouth and Khalid happily fed her the fruit he had acquired, the richness of the ripened strawberry bursting over her tongue.

Khalid smiled when she hummed happily, turning back to the merchant to buy an entire bundle. “Claude,” she said, using the strange new name he had chosen for himself. “The strawberries are not a necessity.”

“No,” Khalid agreed, settling their purchase with the rest of the foodstuffs they had already acquired. “But they make you happy, and that’s all the reason I need.” He leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek. 

Byleth relented, knowing this was not a battle she would win, nor one she particularly felt strongly about fighting. She slid her arm in his, ignoring the star struck gazes that followed them throughout the market. She was not fond of the attention their romance attracted, but it seemed to do Khalid good to dote on her. 

There was a part of her that missed the open cart, the simple life they had tried as merchants themselves. But as her belly swelled, it became necessary to find someplace stationary. This pregnancy sapped her energy, and there were many days when Byleth was left with little ability to do much more than amble around the abandoned hunting lodge Khalid had claimed as their own. 

Today, however, was a good day. Byleth had assuaged Khalid’s worry, promising she would tell him the instant she felt tired. And so Khalid had brought her along, making a day of the simple market trip. 

There was a freedom in this Byleth had never known before. She had thought once, the night that Mahtab took her vows and laid her bare, that she was not meant for peace. She had thought she could never be content with such a thing. 

But Khalid had given her his heart, and she in turn had reclaimed her own unbeating one. When he smiled at her, when she curled up in his lap at night and he read to her from whatever book he had gotten his hands on, that was a kind of quiet Byleth could accept. 

“By, how do you feel about salmon?” Khalid asked, breaking Byleth out of her thoughts. 

As soon as he said the word, Byleth’s mouth began to water. “Yes. And some candied almonds.”

Khalid stared at her before sighing and shaking his head. “By, those two things do not go together.”

Byleth simply pointed to her round belly, the source of all her sudden strange cravings. 

“You know, soon you aren’t going to be able to use that as an excuse.”

“Then I had best take advantage of it while I can,” Byleth countered, her soft smile matching the one tugging at Khalid’s lips.

“All right, you love birds,” the merchant joked good naturedly. “Take the show elsewhere if you aren’t going to buy anything.”

Byleth stepped back and Khalid bantered with the fisherman, standing content with her hand resting on her stomach. The market bustled around them, but it was nowhere near as large as the one at Garreg Mach. They could wander aimlessly without fear of being jostled by the crowd. 

But it also made it harder to hide. Her breath caught sharply in her throat at the sight of a man staring at them, his brown eyes hard. Muscular arms were folded over a broad chest, a heavy axe strapped to his back. Byleth knew she had seen him before, his presence large even as he fell in step behind Mahtab. 

After a moment, the man turned from them, his eyes continuing to search the market. Byleth could only hope that with Khalid’s back to him and her own hair dyed, body changed from her pregnancy, the man had not recognized them. But she could have sworn his eyes had lingered, and she did not wish to take that chance. 

“Claude,” she called softly.

Khalid turned to her, presenting the now wrapped fish up like an offering, but his face fell when his eyes met hers. “What’s wrong, By?”

She shook her head, not wishing to alert any of the populace around them. “Can we go home? I’m feeling a bit tired.”

Khalid immediately placed his arm around her, letting her lean her weight against him. Byleth tried not to, she knew how much his leg still pained him at times, but she was so comfortable against him that it was hard not to snuggle closer. 

She would tell him as soon as they reached the town’s limits, but for this last brief moment, Byleth wanted her moment of peace.

/

“By, you’re looking a bit tired. Get some rest. I’m just going to grab a few more supplies so we won’t have to worry about it for a bit after the baby is born. I’ll be back before you know it, love.”

“Liar,” Byleth spat through gritted teeth. More than a day had passed since he had spoken those words, but still Khalid had not returned. If the pains gripping her were not so powerful, Byleth would have gone out to find him. She had warned him of the man she saw in the market, and he promised to be careful, yet he had not returned to her. 

She had tried not to worry the moment he walked out the door, but her nerves were frayed, leaving her restless and discontent. She never should have let him distract her. Byleth had no doubt that Khalid had done something stupid to draw attention away from her and the hunting lodge, and now she was in no condition to go save him. 

No, she was stuck in their reclaimed home. It was a clever place to hide, already ransacked by thieves and forgotten by the commoners. Khalid had busied himself over the last few months making it a home for them, and Byleth had thought perhaps they could finally be happy here.

She should have known. 

Byleth paced the length of the atrium, chewing on her thumb nail and throwing desperate glances at the door. She wanted desperately to go after him, but the babe within her was taking too much of her energy. Her entire body hurt, and every time Byleth reached for the door, she was left gasping in pain. 

Another circle of the hallway, past forgotten paintings, the broken statues and cobwebs the first things to go when they moved in, but it only brought Byleth right back to the unopened door. She turned to make another circuit, but a rush of water soaked her legs.

Byleth hastily pulled at her nightdress, fearing for a moment that the liquid was blood, but her hand came away clean. A terrible pain gripped her, worse than the last, leaving her shaking. 

Byleth had known fear. She was terrified when the Almyrans invaded the monastery, when she learned Rhea had swallowed a vial of poison, the first night Mahtab took her into his bed. She had feared for herself and Khalid when they had run, abandoning everything in their haste to flee before Mahtab could learn the news of her condition. But it had never felt like this. Those were moments she knew she could weather, facing down whatever storm would greet her.

This...this was something she could not face with the same certainty. 

Byleth stumbled her way back to the bedroom she had shared with Khalid for months now, as if they were some proper married couple, and allowed herself to collapse upon the mattress. She curled into the cool sheets, suddenly realizing how hot she had become.

“Khalid,” she breathed out, gasping as another contraction gripped her. “Khalid, please come home.”

/

“Hey, kiddo.”

Khalid barely looked up at the voice, instead shoving the second tankard of ale he had ordered at the man. 

Nader settled his broad frame into the seat across from Khalid, throwing his head back as he swallowed half the mug immediately. “Guess I should have asked if you poisoned it before I did that!” Nader said with a laugh, seemingly unconcerned if Khalid had actually done just that. 

Khalid took a sip of his own drink, truly nothing more than water. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Nader,” he answered softly. “Not without reason. Are you about to give me one?”

Nader sighed heavily, his chair groaning in protest as he leaned back. “I should.” He took a long pause, turning the mug absentmindedly in circles on the table as he thought. “What were you thinking, kiddo?” he finally asked.

He knew what Nader wanted to hear, that he was not, and that he would hand Byleth back over. But he was not about to do either of those things. So he remained silent, slowly sipping on his not ale until Nader sighed again.

“He disowned you, you know?”

Khalid nodded. “I heard the proclamation. It was scandalous enough to lead the market gossip for an entire week.”

Nader chuckled again, even his softest volume drawing stares from the tavern’s other patrons. “You always did know how to get the whole world talking.”

Khalid answered him with a scowl. “I was a shadow, Nader, nothing more. Drawing attention like this was not my intent.”

Nader raised a brow in mock surprise. “Really? They still whisper your name in bedtime stories to children. And then you go and deliver an entire goddess to your father, followed shortly by stealing away said goddess for yourself.”

Khalid’s scowl deepened. He did not like that expression, and yet that was the prevailing sentiment every time the story was told. “I’m not going to give her back,” he said, cutting to the chase even as he realized he was playing into the hated story.

A barmaid was quick to refill Nader’s drink when he motioned for her, silent until the girl was done with her task and had left them alone once more. “Kiddo, see reason here. Mahtab isn’t going to let you go. Give the girl back and you can escape on your own. You’re clever enough you can make a life for yourself somewhere else. Find yourself some other pretty girl to warm your bed, one who isn’t married to your father.”

“No,” Khalid answered sharply.

Nader sucked in a breath, eyes going wide with realization. His instructor always could read him, almost as easily as his mother. “You stubborn fool,” Nader breathed out. “You’re in love with her.”

When Khalid did not answer, Nader threw back the entire tankard in one large gulp. “You fool,” he repeated with a huff. “Khalid, I can’t go back empty handed. I will be disgraced.”

“And Byleth?” Khalid countered. “You’ll sentence her to a life she doesn’t want? You’ll return her to my father’s bed when she doesn’t want to be there? And what life will her child have, being half Fódlani? You can see what happened to me.” Khalid emphasized his point by touching the scar across his cheek. Stars, how many times had Byleth traced it with her own small hands, her warmth washing away the pain that clung to him? Certainly more than he could count, but not enough. Not yet.

“And Kidra?” Nader countered. “What happens to my daughter when I can no longer show my face in Almyra, and your father gives away all of my lands? She’ll be destitute.” 

“Kidra started winning her own glory years ago. She doesn’t define herself by you anymore,” Khalid pointed out. He knew how shallow and selfish it sounded, because while Kidra would be fine, Nader would never be able to see her again. Stars, this would damn him, but thinking of Byleth tucked away, raising a child by herself and wondering what had happened to him, it tore at his heart. “Nader…” he started, trepidation slipping into his voice.

Nader waved him off. “Eh, enough of that, kiddo. I already knew I wasn’t going to take you back before I even got here. I just didn’t realize you were actually in love with that girl.” He paused, shaking his head as he leaned forward, propping his elbows onto the table. “Earth below, Khalid, you couldn’t have chosen another woman?”

Khalid laughed, halfway between a chuckle and a scoff, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. “If I had a choice at all I would choose her all over again, Nader.”

Nader groaned and slapped a hand over his face, but Khalid could still see his smile. “You’ve got it bad, boy.”

“I know,” Khalid agreed. 

He took another sip of water before nodding his head to the group of cloaked soldiers entering the tavern, the bottom half of their faces covered in black cloth. His father’s stealth warriors. “Now what do we do about them?”

Nader looked over his shoulder. His sigh this time was more world weary than the previous few. “Should have known Mahtab would have me followed. Well, kiddo, time to see if you’ve forgotten how to use that axe of yours or not.” He grabbed the handle of the large battle axe on his back, patrons scurrying away as the soldiers pulled their own weapons. 

“We’ll have to kill them if you want to keep this secret,” Khalid pointed out. But more than that, he needed to make sure they would not give away his location to his father. He wanted somewhere safe for Byleth to give birth, somewhere where they could at least spend the first few months of the child’s life before having to flee again.

Nader grunted in acknowledgement, bringing his axe up to block the first attack. 

Khalid pulled his own axe off his belt, ducking around Nader to join the fray. Only one soldier broke off to engage him, but his strikes were swift, leaving Khalid on the defensive. He gave Khalid no quarter, clearly intending to take the fallen prince’s head back to the king. 

Even as Khalid hooked the blade of his axe with the soldier’s sword, he was forced back, bending over a table that was abandoned in the center of the room. The soldier leaned with him, brown eyes flashing with hate. There was something there more than duty, something personal within those eyes that looked so very similar to his father’s.

Khalid had always wondered if he would be able to kill one of his many half siblings if necessary. It seemed the answer was yes, if the price to pay was his own life and Byleth’s. 

He hissed in pain as his brother’s knee crashed against his side. Khalid used the momentum of the attack to roll off the table and onto the stained tavern floor, struggling to gain the upper hand. His axe was no longer trapped the sword, but it cost him a swift headbutt to the face, white hot pain making him cry out as his nose crunched. 

“Enough!” 

All movement stopped as the order was issued. It was impossible to disobey when the fury of a queen was directed at them. Khalid could only gap as his mother strode into the tavern, all regality and grace, with her own special blend of authority. “Enough of that,” she repeated in Almyran. “Lay down your arms.”

Khalid’s brother growled low, brandishing his blade once more. That was a bad idea. Tiana would put him in the ground. “He is a traitor, to be -”

Tiana raised a hand, a letter in her grip. The heavy vellum was stamped with the king’s own seal, an order that could not be ignored. His brother cast one last glare at Khalid before moving forward to grab the letter. The room held its breath as his eyes scanned the page, turning his glare to Tiana after a moment. She held it without blinking, not even when the prince growled again. 

With a tilt of his head, he summoned his men, and just like that the fight was over. Khalid’s body still hummed with adrenaline, his axe tight in his grip wanting a target. But there was none to be found, only Nader blinking in the aftermath of the short chaos and his mother’s tight smile.

“Mother?” he whispered, breaking from his trace when she took a step to him. “What happened?”

Tiana pressed a hand to his cheek, her thumb gently tracing over his scar. “You’re safe, little sun. Your father decided to fight for us one last time.” 

/

Sweat soaked her brow as Byleth strained against another contraction. She tried to remember the advice she and Khalid had sought from the town’s midwife, but it was hard to make her mind focus on anything besides the burning pain of her lower half splitting open.

It had gone on for hours now, her only concept of time passing the moon rising in the window. She could have sworn the sun was still high in the sky when it had all started. 

She was going to die. This child was going to kill her, and then it would die too without anyone to care for it. Byleth gritted her teeth, pushing again. It was a constant hurt now, leaving her only able to guess when she should actually be pushing as the midwife instructed. Goddess, this could not be how it ended. It would not be how it ended. Byleth took the thoughts and mentally throttled them into submission, screaming through clenched teeth. She refused to let this be her grave. She was going to see Khalid again, and she was going to throttle him just as thoroughly. 

“Byleth!” 

Despite her thought a moment before, Byleth’s chest tightened as Khalid’s voice rang through the lodge. Her breath released in a sigh of relief, answering him with a scream as her mouth opened. 

“Byleth!” Khalid called again. She could hear his pounding footsteps through the halls, and a moment later he was falling into the room. He raced to her, wrapping her in his arms and placing a kiss on her soaked forehead. “Byleth, are you all right?”

Byleth managed to glare at him before attempting to push again. She gripped Khalid tightly, feeling the bones in his hand move, but he did not pull away.

“Enough of that, girl,” another voice demanded. Byleth was vaguely aware of another person entering the room, clad in riding leathers and holding herself as if the world should bow to her. “Khalid, hot water and towels. Now.” 

He pressed his lips against her forehead again before making to move, but Byleth held him back. No! she wanted to scream. He had only just arrived, she did not want to let him go. 

The new arrival clicked her tongue and took Byleth’s hands, freeing Khalid. “Go,” she ordered again. “And you, pay attention. Push only when I tell you to. Now, deep breath.”

As annoyed as she was with the voice, it gave Byleth something to focus on. It talked her through the pain, instructing her as each new wave of pain attacked. At some point Khalid returned, holding her in his arms as she struggled. He did not make the pain disappear, but he certainly made it better.

As the first rays of dawn shone through her window, Byleth’s child came screaming into the world. Byleth let loose one brief sob, thankful that her fear her child would be like her, expressionless and stoic for so many years, was so swiftly pushed aside. 

He was placed in her arms, his small face scrunched in displeasure. His skin was the same shade as Khalid’s, eyes chocolate brown, the same color as the few wisps of hair upon his head. But Byleth could see herself in the shape of his tiny nose and the curve of his jaw. He was perfect and beautiful, and he was hers.

/

Tiana was smiling at him when Khalid stepped out of the room. Her smiles were never kind, always more along the lines of a spider looking at the prey trapped within its web, but he had learned to interpret them through the years. She was pleased with him, but there was a touch of sorrow there as well.

“She’s resting,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb Byleth or the newborn child that slept in the crib beside her. “Thank you, Mother.”

Tiana nodded, almost absentmindedly. “Good. She’ll need it.” She took her son’s hand within both of her smaller ones, callouses from her axe catching against his own. “Will you be happy like this? You were always so ambitious, I worry for you, hidden away out here. There will be no glory for you.”

Khalid looked back at the door to their bedroom, knowing there was a dopey grin on his face. “I don’t know about that,” he answered, surprised by the honesty in his answer. It was something that had come more easily in the past months. “There is plenty for me here.”

His mother studied him with those critical eyes that had made even the most ardent chieftains kneel before her, before softening into something gentle Khalid had never seen before. “That girl has you wrapped around her finger, and it seems you are all too happy to be there, you lovestruck fool.”

That was exactly what he was, and Khalid was all too happy to embrace it. 

He squeezed Tiana’s hands, silently reassuring her that he was precisely where he wanted to be. “And you, Mother? What will you do now? You are welcome to stay with us.”

Tiana sighed and shook her head. “No, this life you have chosen for yourself I fear would be too confining for me. I shall return to your father. I suppose I owe him after what he did.”

Khalid’s smile fell and he held onto her tighter. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t,” Tiana agreed. “But I once risked everything on your father, and it paid off well. I feel it might be time to take that risk again.” She untangled her hands from his, placing them upon his shoulders to push him down enough that she could brush her lips against his forehead. “Live well, my little sun. I hope you are happy.”

“You as well, Mother.”

/

“Papa!”

Khalid turned his head up as his son tugged at his hair, heart tightening in his chest at the sight of dark wings in the sky above them. He reached back and removed Jeralt from his shoulders, placing the young boy back on his own feet. “Go inside to your mother,” he instructed.

Jeralt’s eyes narrowed, a clear reflection of his mother’s stare when she was displeased. Usually the sight of it made him laugh, but Khalid shook his head and pointed. “Go,” he ordered again, not to be disobeyed in this.

Jeralt left on silent feet, another of his mother’s inherited habits. Once the front door of the lodge shut behind him, Khalid turned his attention back to the wyvern that had settled in his front yard. A large man, his hair streaked with more silver than Khalid remembered, dismounted the creature, but made no move to come further toward the house.

“Do you have any food or drink for a lonely traveler?” Mahtab’s voice boomed out over the lawn.

Khalid shook his head, not taking his eyes from his father as he slowly approached. “We both know that isn’t even close to what you are.” He stopped close enough that they would not have to shout, but well out of reach of the tavern's bite. "What would the King of Almyra want with a humble merchant?"

Mahtab snorted, the sound ugly and rough, making his wyvern shake its head, unsure of its master's intent. "Your own answer applies to your question as much as it did mine." 

"Enough games then," Khalid relented. "Why would you come here?"

He heard the sound of the front door opening, quickly glancing over his shoulder as Mahtab's eyes followed. Byleth stood there in a simple black shirt and shorts, hair dyed its unnatural blue. Jeralt, with his ageless gaze that did not belong in a child's face, held onto her hand. Byleth's grip on him was tight, refusing to allow him outside. Her other arm was wrapped just as tightly around a swaddled bundle, their daughter's chubby hands reaching up to pull at Byleth's hair.

Mahtab breathed out in a rush, drawing Khalid's attention back. There was a longing in his father's eyes, a flicker of lust, overruled by a sadness Khalid had only seen after the assassination attempt. His eyes dropped to Jeralt, desperately drinking in the only sight of his youngest child he would ever take. "I would have given her to you," he whispered, voice breaking and harsh. "If it could have kept you in my life, I would have given her to you in a heartbeat."

Khalid crossed his arms, unable to keep a small smile from his lips. "I prefer it like this. I would have her love freely given, not taken by force."

Mahtab barked a laugh, and reached over to wyvern's saddle. He came back with an intricately lacquered box. Khalid recognized it immediately and knew what it held. He had received an almost identical one on his fourth birthday, his first weapon, a beautiful bow, given as per tradition. It was the only weapon an Almyran prince would be freely gifted with, every subsequent one taken by force or rewarded for some glorious deed. 

Mahtab was the one to move forward to meet him, relinquishing the box to Khalid. He placed his hands on Khalid's shoulders, Khalid dipping his head to recieve his father's blessing. The king leaned in, brushing chapped lips against Khalid's forehead before stepping back. 

"Claude," Mahtab raised his voice, loud enough for Byleth to hear, "know you have the friendship of the King of Almyra."

The warmth of his hands lingered, even after the beat of the wyvern's wings took Mahtab back into the sky. It was only then that Byleth released Jeralt, his footfalls soft as they announced the approach of the rest of the family.

"For you," Khalid said, depositing the box into Jeralt's small arms. The boy almost toppled under its weight, his eyes going wide in a sudden show of surprise. 

"Claude," Byleth interjected. She never used his real name in front of the children, only when they were alone at night, followed by whispered I love you’s. 

Khalid leaned in, kissing away her frown. He untangled his daughter's tiny grip from Byleth's hair, his finger becoming trapped in the process. "I love you, By."

Byleth frowned again, her lips occupied with another kiss. She relented with a sigh, kissing him back with all the love and trust she possessed in her unbeating heart, which Khalid had come to learn was immeasurable. 

It seemed so anticlimactic, all their fears and worries coming to an end. Peace was a strange thing, itching at his old wounds, but the warmth of Byleth's touch eased it away. Her kiss grounded him in reality.  

And between Jeralt's gasp of surprise and his daughter's happy gurgles, Khalid found himself content.

[redrobinhoods]

illicit affairs | Chapter 1, Buzzcut Season

AO3 Link | 4,000 words (approx) | Chapter 2

Story Summary: Commander Fox thought that his only love would be the Republic. He certainly never thought that a small blue senator would change that. But if the Republic wants to make him a martyr, it should be for something he believes in.

“They can’t do that.”

“I’m afraid they can.”

“I won’t let them.” Fox shook his head incredulously and Thire bit back a laugh.

“I don’t think you have the authority to do that, sir.” The Chancellor had made the request himself.

“We have a perfectly fine atrium here-”

“Sir, there’s still blast marks on the wall from the bounty hunters.”

“- I don’t know why we need to host it in the Galactic Museum. Do you know how many sniper perches there are in just the main hall?”

Thire thought back to the holomap he had been looking at five minutes prior, before Fox had commed him in practical hysterics. “Last I checked it was seventeen.”

“Seventeen.” Fox slammed his hand down on the device before him and a holomap of the Galactic Museum flicked to life before them. Thire noted that some light renovations had been done in one of the exhibition rooms, he would have to adjust his current plan. “Seventeen perches in one hall and they want to take over the entire museum.”

“I’m sure that the 501st would donate some of their ARCs to our cause if you asked.”

“Thire, I’m considering it.” Fox groaned and leaned into his hands. “At this point we may as well comm Cody’s Bad Batch.” He’d heard that they’d ended up with one of the 501st’s ARC Troopers and had an expert marksman on the team. But any of them would have different uniforms than the Guard and the Chancellor had been prioritizing the Guard’s visual conformity as of late.

“You two do remember that we have authority over both the Senate Guard and the Red Guard, right?” Commander Stone walked in without knocking, carrying three mugs of caf. “Spread out the Senate Guard and our boys equally around the rooms and have a detachment of Red Guard at each of the entrances and around the Chancellor.”

“Yes, but the Senate Guard is incompetent and corrupt at best.” Thire gratefully accepted a mug from Stone.

“So are the senators.” Fox scoffed as he accepted the other mug from Stone. “Name an honest senator off the top of your head that’s not part of the Delegation of the Two-thousand, not that all of them are honest either.”

“Representative Jar Jar Binks of course.” Stone grinned as he leaned against the back of Fox’s chair.

“First, he’s not a senator. Second, don’t get me started, Stone.” Fox sighed and took a long sip of his caf, looking into it as if the answers would swirl to the surface. “We’ll mobilize the Blue and Red Guards. Thire, get me the optimal force placement by tomorrow morning. Stone, prep the bomb squad and get Sergeant Hound up to date. I want him on site. I’ll inform the Chancellor.”

“Another thing, Fox.” Stone brought out a holopad that he’d had tucked under his arm. “Chairman Papanoida has requested an additional security detail for the Pantoran Senator at this event.”

“Senator Chuchi, again?” Thire shook his head in amazement. “She’s going to give Amidala a run for her credits. Have you met the senator, Fox?”

“I’m about to. I’ll take three of the men and lead the security detail myself.” Fox took the holopad from Stone and placed it by his helmet on the desk.

“You’ll like her, she’s the one that dropped off those sweets last month.” Stone said, rising from the back of Fox’s chair. “Brilliant young woman, prime target for assassination.”

“I’m familiar with her file, Stone.” Fox closed the holomap and rose from his chair, followed shortly by Thire. “Let’s get this shit-show on the road.”

“Don’t let the Chancellor hear you call his gala a shit-show.” Thire said.

Fox shrugged. “Fine. Poodoo-parade.”

---

The members of the Coruscant Guard were fond of Senator Riyo Chuchi. She had always been nice to them, looked at them-not past them- when walking in the Senate halls, and took the time to remember their names and greet them. Commander Thorn had spoken very highly of her to Fox. But Thorn wasn’t here anymore. While Thire had risen to the occasion of his promotion, Fox was still grieving Thorn’s loss. The entire Guard was grieving all the brothers they had lost on Scipio. An entire squad, all because of one man. But that was how Fox ended up running the senatorial detail for Senator Chuchi. Thorn had usually been the one running the show on all protection details, but while Thire was adjusting to his heightened responsibility Fox had taken over some of Thorn’s duties.

Few senators would’ve been able to pick out the commander of the Coruscant Guard out of a line-up. Impressive, given that his was now the only truly unique armor in the Guard. Of course they’d heard about him, how could they have not? He was the most highly decorated clone trooper in the GAR. But the names and faces of clone troopers didn’t come easily to non-clones. That is why Commander Fox was surprised to be approached by an unfamiliar face as he walked from the offices of the Coruscant Guard to that of the Chancellor.

“Commander Fox?”

Fox looked up from the holopad that he used to avoid eye contact with the senators. “Ma’am?”

“Senator Riyo Chuchi, Commander.” She held out her hand and he took it. “I heard that you will be leading my security detail this weekend.”

“You heard correctly, Senator. Though very quickly.” Did he need to check his office for bugs? It had been two days since the last scan. Perhaps that was too long.

“I just passed Commander Stone.” She smiled softly and Fox understood why all of his guardsmen were charmed by her. He had been told that his and many of his brother’s eyes were golden in the right light, but her eyes were downright gold. He felt his breath catch in his throat and was glad that she couldn’t see his look of wonder through the mask. Fortunately, his training prepared him for high-stress situations, and he was able to regain his composure quickly.

“Of course, our local chatterbox.”

She chuckled. “Really?”

“No.” He smiled, and though she couldn’t see it he felt that his body language probably conveyed it to her. If she could remember the names of his men, then surely she could read their body language through the helmets.

She laughed again, then turned her eyes down. “I’m very sorry, but I must be on my way.” She looked up into the black visor of his helmet. “I look forward to seeing you this weekend, Commander Fox.” Then she was off before Fox could respond. Suddenly, the gala was not entirely a poodoo-parade, but a rather enticing event. It was Fox’s job to protect the citizens of Coruscant, but he had never really wanted to protect someone until now. He suddenly understood why beings owned pets or had children. He had now only known Senator Chuchi for a few fleeting moments, but he would give anything to ensure her safety. He didn’t set off again until her retreating figure was no longer visible in the crowd.

---

“How’s the crap-carnival going, Commander?” Jek asked as soon as the door closed behind Fox.

“It’s going well, Jek. Thank you very much for volunteering for Senator Chuchi’s security detail.”

“You ran into her didn’t you, Fox?” Thire was where he had been when Fox left. In the corner of the main office-space in front of a holomap of the Galactic Museum. Fox noted that it was now the updated one.

“Are you also volunteering, Commander Thire?”

“What did you think?” Thire leaned forward onto the table before him, eyes on Fox. Every guardsman in the room turned to look at their commanding officer. Fox look around at them and said nothing. “So, you too would throw yourself in front of a blaster bolt for her.” A light laugh, quickly stifled, broke out across the room. One of the men couldn’t muffle his laughter in time and found himself fixed by the blank stare of Fox’s helmet.

“Shut up, Thire. And thank you, Impulse, for volunteering. Thire you may surrender your position to another volunteer at any time if your presence is required elsewhere.”

“With all due respect, sir. I wouldn’t miss this for the galaxy.” Fox knew that it would be something that Thire was more comfortable with. Thire had yet to command event security and starting off with the entire Senate body was a little too much. Two commanders for a single senator’s security detail may have been overkill, but at least it would put them both on the floor.

The next few days were a blur. Commander Stone was placed in charge of event security, and while Commander Thire was part of Senator Chuchi’s detail he was also placed in charge of watching the floor. The Guard was rearranged, with more senior members being moved to the gala detail and more junior members being shuffled to fill the vacant positions for the time being. This was one of the upsides of the Chancellor’s new uniform rules. With an identical body they could rearrange themselves however they wished, and no one would know the difference. Thire, who had stuck with his regulation uniform despite the promotion, found it to be very convenient. He was becoming a fast favorite of the Chancellor, and the ability to swap himself in and out with his men as he pleased was agreeable to him. He still found it so even as he lined up with Jek and Impulse as they waited for Fox to finalize the Chancellor’s final security briefing. Without knowing his name or CT number, he looked like just another trooper in the detail. Tonight, it would allow him to run security on the senator and get a better feeling for the room than Fox would be able to, considering how his inverted armor would stand out from the trio of white. Though Fox would have a greater intimidation factor than he would. Altogether, Thire doubted that something could go wrong in the next few hours.

---

Riyo stepped back from the mirror to cast a final look over her appearance. Padme had been the one to pick out her dress, a full length light blue gown that fell over her skin in soft pillows of fabric. The folds that appeared to be formfitting concealed thick plates of body armor that covered her torso. Very practical, very Padme. Riyo tucked a stray hair back behind her ear, not that it would matter after the speeder ride to the gala, and ensured that she’d grabbed the right tube of dark purple lipstick for her purse. She felt very regal.

Her doorbell chimed.

Checking over the contents of her purse one last time, she nearly ran to answer the door. Opening it she found four clones standing before her.

“Commander Fox, Commander Thire, Impulse, and I’m not sure I’ve ever caught your name.”

“Jek, ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Jek.” She stepped out of the door, closing it behind her before setting off towards the apartment complex landing platform. “Thank you all for your protection. I believe that Chairman Papanoida is merely being paranoid, but I feel much safer with you here.”

“Always a pleasure, Senator.” Said Thire, falling behind her in the escort. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look stunning tonight.”

She giggled. “Thank you, Commander. I didn’t know that clones ever considered looks.”

“You wouldn’t know if you only knew Fox, ma’am.” Jek said, looking to the right at his commander. “He’s regulation cut, a good boy. No tattoos or fancy hair.”

Fox looked left at Jek. “Tattoos are the mark of a clone with too much spare time. Are you trying to tell me you’re bored, Jek? I can pass that on to the janitorial staff if you like.  You wouldn’t imagine the things that they find in bathrooms. Could be useful to have a Guard member on the team.”

“With all due respect, sir. I’d rather lick the ground of the Undercity.”

From behind Riyo, Impulse spoke up. “I’m sure the commander could arrange that too! He could prepare your medical papers ahead of time.”

Riyo shuddered, though she was still grinning. Maybe having an escort for the night wouldn’t be as boring as she thought. “I’m sure medical would be preferable to cleaning up after one of Senator Orn Free Taa’s parties.”

Fox scoffed. “No comment.”

When they reached the speeder, Jek was the first one in. He held out his hand to Riyo and she took it, accepting the boost up into the vehicle. Impulse immediately followed her and the two clones took a seat on each side of her in the middle row. Thire and Fox still stood next to the speeder, and she watched Fox take off his helmet and hand it over to Thire before he ducked under the vehicle.

Thire caught her stare. “Additional anti-theft devices, ma’am. Makes placing undercarriage bombs harder, but you also have to turn the damn thing off.”

“Does the benefit outweigh the trouble, Commander?”

Fox popped back up, running a hand through his regulation hair, loosening a few curls. “Not at all, Senator.” She took in his face. As Jek had said, he had no tattoos, visible ones at least, but a few white lines of scar tissue crossed his throat. He looked tired. Fox took his helmet back from Thire and vaulted over the speeder door into the driver’s seat, taking a drink of water from a small canteen at his hip before putting his helmet back on. Thire sat behind her, facing backwards. Shielded on all sides, she relaxed. She had a feeling that the commander of the Coruscant Guard was what many beings called a ‘defensive driver’.

“Buckle up or be bucked.” Jek kicked the back of Fox’s chair lightly.

“That was one time.” Fox mumbled, pulling off the landing pad to join the lanes of air traffic.

“One time?” Riyo exclaimed.

“I saw our target and went for him, Senator. I assumed that any of my men would have the good mind to buckle up before going on a high-speed chase for a bounty hunter.”

“I almost died, Fox.”

“But you didn’t.” Fox made a sound as if he was going to say more, then turned his attention back to the traffic.

“Commander Thorn saved me, grabbed my ankle just in time.” Jek mumbled, the helmet vocabulator barely picking up the sound.

“I heard about Scipio, I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.” Riyo remembered him as the man who had once fully taken over her apartment with troopers after a threat on her life and personally installed security sensors on all her windows and doors. She’d ended up sleeping on the couch that night while he secured her bedroom. Afterwards, she had run into him often in the Senate halls, and always with a crack about how her window frame had never been the same.

Fox sighed. “He was the best of us.”

Thire was the first one out of the vehicle when they arrived at the Galactic Museum, followed shortly by Impulse and Riyo. She gratefully accepted his hand as she exited the speeder, heels and speeders never seemed to get along, and was followed shortly afterwards by Jek and Fox.

“You know the drill, Senator Chuchi. Enjoy your evening and pretend that we’re not watching your every move.”

“Thank you, Commander. I have enjoyed and will continue to enjoy your company tonight.”

The gala was a beautiful event. Held in honor of the founding of the Republic, all of the Senators and well-to-do of the city had been invited. Riyo spotted many beings who she knew only by name or by reputation amongst the crowd. She was not the only one with an escort, and she found a little comfort in that she wouldn’t stand out for being accompanied by the clones. Though the clones themselves stood out. She caught more than one being staring at the red-armor commander at her right side, and she couldn’t help a small twinge of jealousy. She wondered if she could convince one of the boys to dance with her. Perhaps not Thire or Impulse, they seemed busy scanning the floor for threats, but she was sure that Jek wouldn’t mind and she wondered if she could even convince Commander Fox to take her out on the floor. Then she realized how much she would stand out for dancing with a clone, red or white, and how that could negatively impact their positions in the Coruscant Guard. Many of the beings here were the type that didn’t like to be reminded of the humanity of the clones and she didn’t want to bring their outbursts down on her companions. She stuck to the edges of the rooms instead, where she could find many more senators who were not comfortable with mingling with the rich in the middle of the floor. Here she found solace in discussing some of the exhibits with those she considered to be her allies in the Senate, and occasionally with the clones if she noticed something intriguing in passing. They wouldn’t speak to her unprompted but would gladly respond when spoken to.

Towards the end of the night the crowds thinned out and she and her escort walked freely through even the middle of the rooms.

“There was an exhibit on the ice formations of Hoth that I would like to see again. Would that be suitable, Commander Fox?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you take a right before the mock mythosaur there is a shortcut that we can take if it pleases you.” Of course he knew the layout.

She weaved her way through the remaining guests, noting that it was mostly senators in this room, and passed through the small passage that Fox had recommended. This hall, Natural Formations of Wonder, was mostly empty save for a small crowd gathering around the volcanic glass from Mustafar. Across the room, there was a temperature-controlled case containing the formations she wanted to see.

“I didn’t see ice until I was thirteen, you know.” She spoke as they crossed the room. “Pantora is marshy by nature. My father took me to Scipio with him when he served as the Pantoran Senator. I’d never seen anything like it before.”

“We can relate, Senator.” Thire spoke up. “Kamino, our homeworld, is oceanic. Fox thought that the Kaminii were lying about trees for the longest time.”

A huff of air that could have been part of a laugh escaped Fox’s vocabulator. “I’m still not too sure about forests.”

“You need to get out more.” Jek reached over Riyo to give Fox’s shoulder a light shove. “Breathe the fresh air.”

“Never heard of it.” Fox shook his head lightly and went back to scanning the room. Riyo felt a stab of pity for the commander and made a note that she would have to find a way to get him off-world with her somehow, if only so he could experience fresh air.

“Do you miss Kamino?” She ventured, keeping her gaze on the ice crystals before her so that none of the men felt that they were being put on the spot.

There was silence around her until Impulse spoke. “I don’t think any of us have that option, Senator.”

“Well, if you could be on any planet in the galaxy right now, which one would you choose?” More silence greeted her question.

“Naboo.” Thire said, breaking the tension. “It’s nice there. I don’t think that we clones view Kamino as you view Pantora, Senator Chuchi. It’s the closest thing we have to a home, but it’s not ours. Personally speaking, my home is my brothers. It’s not tied to a place. I don’t miss my homeworld because my home is always with me, waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

Riyo laughed, turning away from the ice. “I believe I am ready to depart, before dawn finds us here instead of in our beds.”

“As you wish, Senator.”

They started back across the room the same way they had spent the evening, Fox and Jek at her side, Thire and Impulse behind her. But now there was no crowd to push through, and no chance of one as the group admiring the Mustafarian glass had departed. Riyo let her gaze wander around the room, taking in the natural marvels one last time. Her attention was grabbed by the sudden turn of Fox’s helmet as he looked up into the catwalks of the vaulted ceiling. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing.

“Senator!” Fox stepped back, grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her to the ground. The force brought her to her knees, and her head was pushed down as Fox covered her body with his own. He pulled her in with his left arm so that she was pressed against him, fully shielded from behind. Jek knelt in front of them, rifle drawn over Fox’s shoulder as he scanned the room around them. It was silent. Riyo watched Fox slowly bring a pistol out from its holster with his right hand. Thire and Impulse swept through the room, with the former going up into the catwalks. They gave the all clear minutes later as Thire rejoined the group. Fox and Jek eased away from Riyo, and she sat up straight. Fox didn’t move from behind her, and she stayed put as the four guards continued to visually scan the room. Then there was a flash of movement on her right. The sniper was fast, but Fox was faster. His hand had never left her side, and now he brought her close to himself as he twisted his body down to shield her.

The was a whistle and a crack. Fox’s grip around Riyo’s waist faltered and the two crashed into the ground. Riyo couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips, and Fox pulled her closer to his body to continue to shield her, curling around and over her tiny form. Another shot rang out and Fox clutched her even tighter to his chest. Her hands clung to his arm as if the touch would save her life. Perhaps it would. Two of the men, she couldn’t tell their boots apart, moved to stand over her and Fox, rifles raised towards where the shots had come from. There wasn’t a third shot.

One of the men standing above them raised his comm. “This is Commander Thire requesting a medic in Natural Formations, Commander Fox is down. Activate Contingency Theta.”

“Get her out of here.” Fox mumbled. She could feel the vibrations in his chest against the back of her head as he spoke. His grip on her waist relaxed. Riyo realized that he had been hit.

“Yes, sir.” Jek said. With Impulse and Thire standing guard Jek reached down and pulled Riyo from Fox’s grip.

“No, we can’t leave him!” She protested. She tried to pull away, but Jek’s grip on her arm was strong and soon she was surrounded by plastoid as she was taken away. Between Thire and Impulse she could see the motionless form of Commander Fox behind them, a black hole burning between his shoulder blades, another at his waist. She let out a quiet sob at the sight.

“He did his duty, Senator; you must do yours.” Thire said as the three men swept her away from the room.

[eddiesasspbrak]

Carnival Games

Eddie sneaks out to attend the annual carnival with his friends and meets someone he hadn't been expecting.

A request from @caleigh-rayne hope this is what you were looking for!

Requests currently open for most IT ships

Read on AO3

4k+ words

Throughout Eddie’s life, he’d been denied the enjoyment of many things. He’d never been to a classmate’s birthday party. He’d ridden a bike once and when he fell off one time his mom sold it. He’d never been roller skating, skateboarding, ice skating or climbed a tree. He’d had chances to do many things in secret, but his mother’s warnings were drilled so far into his brain that her voice would come out every time he even thought about it. One thing he was definitely not allowed to do, was attend the annual fair.

He’d always wanted to go. They’d drive by it every year and he’d see the rides, the games and the food that smelled sinfully delicious when he’d roll his window down just a bit. He’d see the other kids running around, playing and lining up with their friends, excitement on their faces and practically vibrating off of them. Every year he asked his mom to let him go, and every year it was, “no son of mine will associate with carnies.” Or, “those rides are dangerous and the people who run them don’t care if they’re up to safety regulations.” Or his personal favorite, “they skewer dead rats on a stick, dunk them in batter and then deep fry them and sell them as food. Is that what you want Eddie? To eat a rat?”

Eddie knew it was all bullshit. His friends went every year, and nothing ever happened to them. Other than a stomachache from eating too much or Ben puking after riding a roller coaster. Eddie would love to experience it all - the good and the bad. Bev would always bring back a stuffed toy she’d won for him and Mike would sneak him a soft pretzel when they’d stop by afterward to check on him.

The summer of their seventeenth year, when the heat was at its peak and the haze of summer was setting in, the fair came the town once more. Eddie sat on his porch with his three friends, watching families with young children go by headed to the fair when it was more child friendly. All the kids he saw were excited, bouncing along holding their parents’ hands and smiling brighter than the sun. It just made Eddie sad.

“Come on, Eddie. Sneak out and come with this year.” Bev was saying in a hushed voice in case his mother was close by. The windows that lined the front porch sat open to let any gentle breeze pass through the sweltering house.

“I can’t. If she finds my bed empty, she’ll call the police. She’s done it before, and I was just in the bathroom.”

“Slip her a sleeping pill.”

“I’m not going to drug my mother so I can go to a fair.”

Bev shrugged and instinctively reached for her pocket, stopping herself when she remembered where she was and wiping her hand down over her denim jeans instead. All of her friends knew she smoked, but if Sonia got even a whiff of smoke, she’d ban Eddie from seeing his friends ever again and would search every inch of his room for cigarettes. The one time Bev had shown up smelling of smoke she’d had to quickly come up with a lie about a group of unruly teens that she’d had to walk by. Sonia hated them all and looked for any excuse to banish them, but she’d bought it anyway.

“Can’t you say your staying at my place tonight?” Ben asked, his eyes leaving Bev for the first time in ten minutes.

“She’ll suspect something. She knows the fair is in town.” Eddie sighed.

“What about mine? The farm is far enough away from the fair that it should be ok, right?” Mike asked.

“Nah, she’ll just come up with a reason to keep me away from farm animals. It’s useless guys. One more year until I’m free and then I can go to as many fairs as I want.”

All of his friends could practically see into the future, his rebellious phase an inevitable as soon as he was out from under Sonia’s constant supervision. They often wondered if Eddie would continue to talk to his mother at all when he was eighteen and away from home. He’d learned long ago that she didn’t have his best interest at heart. She just wanted to control him, keep him from enjoying life and getting a taste of what life could be without her. It was going to happen, and that day was approaching fast, so her hold got even tighter.

Eddie’s friends left when Sonia called him inside to help with dinner. He waved goodbye and watched them head down the street. They’d go to Ben’s and wait for it to get dark before heading to the fair. He wished with all of his being to go with them. Inside, his mother was in the kitchen, listening to the radio and cutting up vegetables for a stir-fry. Eddie joined her, stirring the bit of chicken in the pan on the stove. The rice cooker sat on the countertop, steam coming from the lid and making the air just a little bit hotter.

As soon as the food was done, Sonia made her way to the living room with her plate, where she liked to eat in front of the TV. Sometimes Eddie joined her, but he didn’t much want to be in her presence at the moment. If it weren’t for her, he’d be going to have fun with his friends. The sun was just barely beginning to dip in the sky, casting purple across the clouds. They wouldn’t have left yet.

“Eddiebear, will you fetch me a scoop of ice cream?” Sonia called from the living room when she’d finished her meal.

Reluctantly, Eddie mumbled back a “sure” and dumped his plate in the sink on his way to the freezer. The blast of cold from inside was enough to cool Eddie down for a second. He reached up into a cabinet to grab a bowl and his eyes fell to the cabinet door beside him. The cabinet that held all of their combined medication, fake and real. “Slip her a sleeping pill.” Bev’s voice echoed in his head.

It wouldn’t be so bad, right? She took sleeping pills all the time. Just one wouldn’t hurt her. Peeking over his shoulder, into the living room, he could see her slipper covered feet dangling off the recliner but knew she couldn’t see him. Slowly as he could, careful to not make any sound, he opened the cabinet and pulled down the little orange bottle. He shook out one, putting the bottle back in its place exactly as he’d found it. He went about scooping the ice cream like normal, topping it with the sprinkles she liked to mask any grittiness. Using the back of the spoon, he pressed on the pill until it broke in half. The sound of the TV masked the little click it made as it broke. From there he kept pressing it with the spoon into smaller and smaller pieces.

When it resembled a powder, Eddie scrapped it off the counter and into the spoon, sprinkling it on top and then mixing it and the sprinkles into the cold dessert. For a final touch, he added whipped cream and a single maraschino cherry. He quickly cleaned the counter, wiping away any evidence, and put everything back where it belonged.

She smiled at him as he carried the bowl in. “Oh, Eddiebear you spoil me!” She gushed.

He forced a smile and made up an excuse about it being too hot and wanting to go to bed early. He said goodnight and ran to his room, shutting the door behind him. He changed his clothes into something more fair appropriate. Denim shorts that went halfway down his thigh, a t-shirt with blue and white stripes and a small breast pocket, a pair of tennis shoes and a sweatshirt tied around his waist incase it got cold. He waited anxiously for forty minutes. Enough time for her to finish her dessert and the pills to make her tired.

As quietly as he possibly could, he snuck down the stairs and peeked into the living room. Sonia was still in her chair, the TV playing but she was fast asleep. He knew they worked quick on her, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. But the sun was rapidly setting, and his friends would head out soon. Making sure he had his keys and wallet he locked the door behind him and dashed down the street. The air was hot, but the wind going past his face as he ran felt like freedom. He wasn’t supposed to run because of his supposed asthma, but he could run fast and for long distances and never have a problem. Besides, he was breaking the rules tonight.

When he arrived at Ben’s house, he could see the retreating shapes of his friends just a little ways away. Smile on his face, he called out to them, earning a startled reaction.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?” Mike asked.

“I’m going to the fair with you guys.” He said between heavy breathing, catching his breath from the run.

“No fucking way!” Bev beamed. “We finally get to pop your carnival cherry. How did you get your mom to agree?”

“She didn’t…exactly…”

“Oh Eddie, you didn’t.” Ben frowned.

“I wasn’t thinking and before I knew it, she was eating ice cream with a sleeping pill in it.” He confessed.

“Ignore him. I’m proud of you.” Bev said, nudging Bens’ side with her elbow.

“She’ll be ok, right?” Eddie asked nervously.

“How many did you give her?”

“One. The dosage on the prescription she has is one and she hadn’t taken any before that.”

“Then she’ll be fine.” Bev reassured, grabbing his hand and then Ben’s. “Come on, let’s go.”

Being dragged along, Eddie reached out and grabbed hold of Mike’s hand as well, grounding himself to reality, his friends like a tether tied to his wrists. Everything would be ok. He just had to keep walking. Tonight, he was free.

It wasn’t a long walk to the fairgrounds given how small the town was. By the time they got there, the sun was all but gone beyond the horizon, orange and yellow painting the sky at the edges. Soon it would be dark. They passed by the fence around the edge of the grounds and immediately they were engulfed in the festivities.

Eddie felt a bit overwhelmed by the lights, sounds and smells but the excitement was buzzing off of him in waves. Bev’s hand is his seemed to keep him calm as she dragged him through the crowd and toward the ticket booth. Every year they saved up for months so they could go on the rides as often as they wanted, eat as much fried food as their stomachs could fit and play enough games to go home with at least one cheap, useless bobble.

With enough tickets to satisfy their adrenaline cravings, they set off to a slow ride to ease Eddie into it. He’d never been on a Ferris wheel and it was the slowest ride they offered, aside from the rides meant for small children. The line was short and mostly full of couples. Eddie offered to ride alone with Mike so Beverly and Ben could ride together, but they insisted they wanted to be there for his first ride. When it was their turn, all four crammed into the seat, the bar coming down over their laps. Eddie sat in the middle with Bev, Mike on his other side. Mike mentioned to the operator that it was his first ride and the guy winked at him. Eddie looked at Mike, wondering what kind of exchange he’d just witnessed.

As the ride started up, Eddie’s stomach did a little flip. He wouldn’t get sick. He wouldn’t freak out or be afraid. He was going to enjoy this if it was the last thing he did. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his mother’s voice from his head and looked out at the world in front of him as they began to rise into the air. Beverly reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers.

Eddie’s eyes were fixed on the view in front of him. Everything looked so small below him and he could see all the way to the edge of the town, or at least close to it. When they reached the top, the ride came to a stop, their seat rocking back and forth. His friends all looked at his face, smiling expectantly.

“What do you think?” Ben asked, looking across Bev to see him.

“The town looks so small from up here.” He said.

“The town is small.” Bev reminded him.

“Yea but I mean…even smaller than that. It’s pretty though. All the lights.”

“This is just the beginning.” Mike grinned, putting an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing.

After the Ferris wheel, they took him on the bumper cars and then the spinning apples. Every ride getting faster and preparing him for the rollercoaster. He was nervous in line, staring up at the little cars speeding over the tracks, but as soon as they were seated and things started moving, he was all excitement. Cheering and whooping loudly, laughing and throwing his hands in the air alongside Bev. All these years, this is what he’d been missing. He really did feel free.

After a few more rides, they took a break for food. Fried Oreos were disgusting and amazing at the same time. Eddie had never had a hotdog that tasted so good, covered in ketchup, mustard and onions. The elephant ear was sweet enough to rot his teeth and he loved it. He never knew before that cotton candy actually melted on your tongue. Full of food and needing a break before tackling anymore rides, they dragged him to the games. Balloon pop, basketball, shooting cans with a toy rifle, spraying water into a plastic clown’s mouth to fill the balloon on top of its head. Eddie was terrible at all of them, but he was having fun trying. Bev told him they were rigged anyway, making them hard to win.

Mike and Ben had separated to find a bathroom, leaving Bev and Eddie to walk arm in arm around the fairgrounds that used to be a church parking lot. They avoided classmates they recognized, watched others play the games and talked about the potential danger he was in for drugging his mom. As long as she didn’t realize he’d done it and gone to the fair, it would be ok. Bev was preparing to break him out if he was caught and locked in his room indefinitely.

They were joking about hiding him in the clubhouse Ben built when they were younger, when a ruckus over by one of the games caught their attention. A boy who they both recognized from school was sat up on the seat above the water in swim trunks and shirtless. A boy they knew from the soccer team, Chet, was lined up in front of the target, a baseball in his hand. He seemed to be concentrating and wound up to throw only for the boy above the tank to call you “Oh yea, look at that form!” When the ball left his fingers, he flinched, missing the target entirely.

“Better luck next time Chet, my boy! I guess this is why you’re on the soccer team and not the baseball team!” He yelled as Chet angrily walked away, flipping him off.

Bev and Eddie would know that smart mouth anywhere. Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier was known in the school for his fantastic academics but his horrible ability to keep his mouth shut. He’d gotten in trouble for talking in class and making jokes more than anyone else in the history of the school. They didn’t know him personally, but it was hard not to know who he was.

The next guy stepped up, Nicholas Monroe, most popular boy in school and number one Richie Tozier anti-fan. His girlfriend, Missy Jones, was on his arm and both were smiling and looking confident. Everyone watching could tell that he was determined to sink Richie. To sink the Trashmouth and use it as material to make fun of him for weeks, maybe months.

“If it isn’t Nick.” Richie grinned. “Come to show off your skills at handling balls?”

“Shut the fuck up Tozier.” He said, winding up with the first ball and throwing it as hard as he could. It smacked the tarp hanging behind it, missing the target by a few inches.

“Oh, nice try Nicky but you need to hit that big red circle over there.”

“I said shut up, Trashmouth!” He angrily threw the second, missing again.

“Getting a little feisty there aren’t we. Bet that’s why you like him, huh Missy?”

She giggled, her cheeks coloring pink, but stopped as soon as Nick looked at her angrily, a shy smile still lingering. With the last ball he’d paid for in hand, he gripped it tight and squinted his eyes as if trying to focus his sight only on the target. Once more, he threw the ball, this one coming the closest but still hitting above the target instead of on it. He cursed, balling his hands into fists.

“Sorry Nick, you can’t make me wet. You’re just not my type.” Richie winked.

“I’m gonna kick your ass the next time I see you, Trashmouth.” Nick put his arm around Missy and dragged her away, though she looked over his shoulder at Richie as they left.

Eddie and Bev were laughing, enjoying the way Richie made these boys feel stupid with just a few words. Of course, he was likely to pay for it later. He wasn’t a stranger to being beat up for saying the wrong things. He still had the remnants of a healing black eye behind his glasses. It didn’t help that every girl in school seemed to be attracted to him, taken or not. Except maybe Bev who only had eyes for Ben.

Eddie could understand why. He’d had his sexual awakening years ago and Richie was definitely a part of realizing his sexuality. He’d always been too afraid to talk to him. Bev kind of knew him because he was a smoker as well and hung around the bleachers by the field between classes. He’d wanted to ask Bev to take him with her on a smoke break so he could at least stare at him for a bit, but he never did.

With the line momentarily empty, Richie looked around at the crowd, hoping to goad someone else into trying to sink him. His eyes landed on Bev and Eddie, whispering to one another and laughing and his face lit up with a smile.

“Well, well, Ms. Marsh I see you’ve dumped Benny boy for a new piece of arm candy. This one isn’t as buff but definitely cuter.” Richie called out to them.

Eddie felt warmth wash over him but wasn’t sure if it was from the hot summer air or Richie’s words. With their arms still linked, Bev dragged Eddie close to the dunk tank so she could talk to Richie.

“Hey there, Trashmouth. Didn’t know you were working here.” Bev greeted him, leaning against the top of the tank.

“Picking up some extra summer cash. It’s an easy gig and only a few people actually manage to hit the target. I’m starting to wish they would. It's hot as hell out here.”

“Seems you're enjoying yourself. We’ve been watching for a while. Aren’t you worried you’ll get your ass kicked?”

Richie shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He looked from Bev to Eddie, who had been looking up at him since they walked over. “Gonna introduce me to your friend?”

Bev pulled her arm from Eddie’s and placed her hand on top of his head. “This cutie pie is Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie, Richie.” She introduced them.

“Hey Eddie. Wanna take a chance at getting me wet?” Richie asked, tilting his chin up.

If Eddie wasn’t already blushing, he was now. “I don’t think I’ll be any good.” He said in a small voice, hoping Richie could still hear him.

“You sure? You’re small but I bet you’ve got power in those arms.”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Come on, Eddie. Give it a go.” Bev nudged him. “It’s only a dollar a ball.”

Eddie chewed his bottom lip. He wanted to try but he also didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Richie. Leaning down, Richie put his elbow on his knee and lowered his voice.

“Tell you what, we’ll make it interesting. If you win, I’ll do one thing just for you. Anything you want.”

“And if I lose?”

“You have to give me your number.”

“What? W-why would you want my number?” Eddie stuttered, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’ll tell you if you win.” He winked.

Feeling like his skin was abuzz, Eddie paid the three dollars and took the baseballs from the attendant. He could feel Richie’s eyes burning into him as he stepped up to the line. His hands were sweating, and he tried not to drop the ball before even throwing it. His first throw missed, hitting too low.

“Oh, so close Eds. Two more to go!” Richie called.

Eddie’s breath hitched at the nickname, making him throw the second ball too far to the right. Bev patted him on the shoulder, giving him some encouragement. Taking a deep breath, he rolled the last ball between his hands. He kept his eyes on the target as he threw it, hitting the target right in the center. The seat beneath Richie collapsed, dropping him into the cold water below. Water splashed out over the edge and Bev whooped and hollered, wrapping her arms around Eddie’s shoulders. The attendant handed him a small purple bunny.

Turning back to the tank, they saw Richie coming up from under the water at the edge closest to them, his glasses in his hand. He ran his other hand over his face to remove the water, before pushing his hair back out of his face. Eddie thought his heart might burst out of his chest at the sight of his long, curly tendrils hanging in his face and dripping water down his neck. His mouth was suddenly full of saliva and he swallowed it down, hoping no one else noticed.

“Guess you win.” Richie said, putting his arms over the edge of the tank, letting water drip from his fingers. “That means I’ve got to grant you one wish.”

Eddie stared up at him, his mouth now going bone dry. He’d agreed to the terms but didn’t actually expect to win. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask of him. Before he got the chance to properly think it over, Mike and Ben were calling out to them, Stan and Bill in tow.

“Hey, look who we found!” Mike said, his arm around Stan’s shoulders.

Stan’s face was flushed, a happy little smile on his lips.

“Bill wants to ride the roller coaster. You guys up for another go?” Ben asked.

“Hell yea.” Bev grinned, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him to follow the others.

Eddie looked back over his shoulder at Richie in time to see him waving goodbye. More rides on the rollercoaster, a few rides on the tilt-a-whirl, and another round of bumper cars with all six of them and they were beat. Bev wanted to get another snack before the fair closed down for the night and Mike wanted to play a few games with Bill and Stan. Eddie stuck with them while B3 went to satisfy Bev’s cravings.

He watched Stan and Mike at the basketball hoops, each attempting to outdo the other. It was obvious to everyone except Mike that Stan was crazy about him and would do anything to get his attention. Eddie couldn’t help laughing at their back and forth, neither one making a single basket. He and his friends were known for being the most athletic. Except perhaps Ben.

When a hand gentle came to rest on his shoulder, Eddie just about jumped out of his skin. His first thought was Beverly, Ben or Bill coming to join them, but when he turned, he found Richie standing there. He was smiling, apologetic for startling him.

“Hey, it’s Eddie, right?” Richie asked.

Eddie nodded his head, suddenly feeling nervous because wow he was ever cuter up close. He was fully clothed now in long cargo shorts, a graphic t-shirt covered by a hideous short sleeve button up and sneakers. His hair was still wet, slicked back and out of his face. Eddie felt a shiver go through him despite the heat.

“Glad I found you. I still owe you one wish for winning earlier.”

Eddie help up the little purple rabbit for him to see. “I already won this from it.”

“Yes, but the rabbit wasn’t a part of the deal. I said I’d do anything you want. So, name your price. Can’t have unfulfilled debts lingering over me now, can I?” His smile was crooked and so charming it made Eddie want to melt.

He searched his brain for anything he could make Richie do. Maybe buy him a soda or a pretzel. But his mind was sinful and suddenly he knew what he wanted; he just couldn’t ask for it. More than anything, he wanted to be kissed by a beautiful boy and Richie was ideal. He’d been kissed before during games of truth or dare and by Jenna Newman in the 6th grade. But he’d never been kissed and at that moment, that was precisely what he wanted.

Feeling brave, the rush of adrenaline that had been pumping through him all night taking over he muttered a “follow me” and took off. Mike and Stan didn’t notice the two boys leaving them, headed toward the edge of the fairgrounds where things were beginning to shut down for the night. It was nearly deserted, only a few people walking by on their way to leave or get one last ride in. Eddie lead Richie behind a stand that had already closed down, leaving the area around it dark.

Cast in shadow, Richie looked down at Eddie curiously, the smile never fully leaving his face.

“What are we doing back here?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Instead of answering with words, Eddie took a step closer, placing his hands on Richie’s chest and looking up at him with half lidded eyes. Richie breathed out a single “Oh” before Eddie was standing on his toes and pressing his lips to Richie’s. Leaning down to meet him halfway, Richie pulled his hands back out from his pocket and cradled the back of Eddie’s head with one, the other trailing down the bac of his neck to his back. Eddie shivered, tilting his head back for a better angle and parting his lips. He didn’t fully know what he was doing, but he knew what he wanted when he licked at Richie’s bottom lip.

Richie opened his mouth slightly, sucking Eddie’s bottom lip between his teeth before diving his tongue into the wet heat of his mouth. Eddie’s head was spinning, the feel of Richie’s tongue, teeth and hands sending him out of his body. He was vaguely aware of the little moans coming from deep in his throat, but he was too far gone to be embarrassed. If he’d known just kissing someone, he was attracted to felt this good, he would have done it a long time ago. Did every kiss feel this good, or was it because it was Richie?

When Richie pulled away, sliding his hand to gently cup Eddie’s cheek, his eyes were shining behind his thick glasses. For the first time, Eddie wondered if maybe he did have asthma as he struggled to catch his breath. Deep down, he somehow knew it was because of Richie.

“I wasn’t expecting that, but I think we both won.” Richie said in a low voice.

“Still want my number?” Eddie asked.

When Eddie and Richie rejoined his friends, who had been looking for him, he apologized for disappearing. He made up a lie about going to get a soda with Richie and sitting to chat for a bit. All six left the fair together, walking home and splitting off one by one. Mike was staying at Stan’s, too tired to drive back to the farm. Richie walked Eddie all the way to his doorstep and said goodnight with a chaste kiss and ruffle of his hair. Eddie watched him leave, leaning against the door and feeling dreamy.

When he snuck back in, his mom was still fast asleep in her chair. Eddie tiptoed up the stairs and kicked off his shoes before collapsing on his best, hugging the little purple bunny close to his chest. He’d gone out wanting freedom and found so much more on the tongue of a Trashmouth.

[thetailorofenbizaka]

Chapter 1–The Tale of the Scissors, Act 3: Reunion; Scene 2

The Tailor of Enbizaka, pages 74-82

I don’t know why Kayo would say things like that. I had thought perhaps that you might have pulled some trick on her mind, but I still haven’t reached a conclusion at that.

The only thing I’m certain of is the event that spurred her on to start talking like her husband was alive.

--That was hardly any time at all after the two of you had swapped bodies.

That day, Kayo was going for an aimless walk outside for the first time in a while, without any work to do.

She had likely wanted to go around and see the sights of Enbizaka after it had recovered from the fire.

.

Enbizaka was erected along a long hill in the center of Onigashima, and a lot of the people who worked as merchants in Onigashima had shops set up along this hill neighborhood.

Almost all of the people who lived here were foreigners, or else mixed-race people who had foreign and Jakokuan genes.

What was more, there were not a lot of people among those who were walking along the road who had the Jakokuan feature of black hair. People with hair of various colors and shades like red, brown, green, and even white, passed through as though it was normal.

And so, Kayo’s newly pink hair was not something that turned a lot of heads.

The most conspicuous sign of Enbizaka’s foreigner culture were the foreign trading houses that stood at the top of the hill.

Starting with those of Freezis and Yarera, there were many representatives for firms doing business with Jakoku who had taken up residence in Enbizaka.

A little way away from the trading houses there was the Enbizaka execution site.

It’s said that this place was created as a sort of warning, as the crimes being committed by foreigners in Onigashima were rapidly increasing around the time the island was first established. Even now criminals would sometimes be taken there from the mainland to be executed, but for Kayo this place had very little to do with her.

As she walked down the hill, Kayo gazed at the neighborhood that had regained the same liveliness that it had held four years before, and wore a peaceful expression on her face.

When she reached the bottom of the hill, there was Soukyou bridge.

Once you passed over this curved bridge made of stone and headed down the middle road from there, there was the Miroku shop that sat just along the street. This was the only bridge that connected Enbizaka to the middle road, and as such there were always a lot of people passing through.

It was right after she’d set foot on Soukyou bridge.

Kayo suddenly came to a stop.

Her eyes were opened wide, and she was fixedly staring at a blue haired man on the far end of the bridge.

At that moment, he was leaning on the handrail and looking at the river dreamily, not appearing to notice that Kayo was staring.

“Ah…Aaah…”

Kayo stood there for a time, open-mouthed.

And as she did so the man started to quickly walk in the opposite direction from where she was.

Kayo flusteredly moved to chase after him, but his form was soon buried in the throng of people, and eventually she could no longer see him,

Mournfully coming to a halt, Kayo then murmured, “He’s—alive.”

Kayo must have seen a trace of her dead husband in this man that she’d never met before—that was what I thought at the time.

Because it was after this event had happened that Kayo started to speak to everyone as though her husband had survived.

However…from what I could see, that blue haired man looked hardly anything like Kayo’s husband.

If I had to come up with any similarities, I suppose I could say that his left hand had burn scars on it that were similar to those on Kayo’s husband.

.

I became curious about that man, and started to search for his whereabouts.

While being inside the scissors I am able to see all of Enbizaka, and as such it wasn’t that difficult for me to locate him.

--When I first found him, he was inside that Freezis Trading House.

He was in the middle of having some conversation with the house’s owner, Perrier, sitting opposite her at the table.

“It’s rare to SEE YOU come here YOURSELF,” Perrier laughed, offering him some tea.

“Oh no, it’s really quite embarrassing...I usually leave all outside matters to my wife, staying cooped up at home with work, you see. Today she’s been a little under the weather, so I’ve come to deliver our goods in her stead,” the man replied, smiling.

From the way he carried himself, I could tell that he was a merchant of some kind.

“She SICK? You must WORRY.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing terribly major. My wife’s father works as a doctor, so he examined her and told us it was just a cold. She should be better by tomorrow.”

“Thank GOODNESS for THAT!” As she spoke, Perrier set out a bundle of koban coins before him. “…RIGHT, well, HERE’S PAY.”

“Thank you kindly. I’ve already placed the textiles and kimono you ordered in your cellar. –I hope for your continued patronage.”

“Jakoku kiminos are having BOOM in Maistia RIGHT NOW! And you REALLY HELP OUT by bringing us such GOOD PRODUCT all the time, MIROKU SHOP-SAN! …Though wish you could increase amount you DEAL with us...” Perrier groused, resting her chin on her hands.

“…Even this amount has been a bit much for us. Understand that with our national isolation policies, the amount of resources we’re allowed to send to foreign countries like this is harshly regulated.”

“The shogunate should stop being so STUBBORN and OPEN COUNTRY already! I SAYING THAT for YEARS but they NOT LISTEN!”

In contrast to Perrier’s excitement, the man replied with a warm smile, “I know your feelings, Perrier-sama…But foreigner though you are, calling for this country to ‘open its borders’…I wonder if that’s wise.”

“…? WHY?”

“There is an extremist group in Jakoku called the ‘Crimson Robed Masses’.” The man launched into an explanation of this group with a quiet countenance. “They engage in all kinds of harassment for those that call for open borders and the foreigners that live in Jakoku, and I’ve heard that from time to time they’ve even gathered together and committed raids. If you were to attract the attention of such a crew—”

“Oh, I KNOW about THEM. Been sent LOTS of threats. …BUT! I IGNORE them! A Freezis does not YIELD to mere THREATS!”

“I see—well, I’m not too far removed from the issue myself, as my wife and I have foreign ancestry…But in any case, I hope to be able to maintain good business dealings with the Freezis Foundation Firm in the future. If you have any requests, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Perrier appeared to think for a moment at the man’s offer, and then returned, “If there nothing to do about not raising textile and kimino export number...As for request, we NEED craftsman who can tailor clothes to kimono locally, and repair tattered and torn kimono. We have tailors in Maistia, but they don’t know ANYTHING about Jakoku kimono, and all FUMBLING at everything.”

“Regarding tailors…ours is just a family-run shop, so it would be a bit beyond us to send someone of those talents to Maistia--

“…I hear THERE other GOOD TAILORS in ENBIZAKA. I met one MYSELF a bit ago—I THINK my MAID called her SUDOU.”

The man appeared to think for a moment, and then finally replied, “Ah, yes, the Sudou wi—”

“You know HER?”

“Oh no, apparently my parent and her parent were once good friends long ago, but the two of them got into some sort of feud…The connection between our families has been severed since then, publicly. My wife doesn’t know about all this, and will sometimes ask her to do work, but I’ve never actually met her myself.”

“I SEE.”

“Well, a dispute between our parents has little to do with me, of course. I myself am a homebody by nature, so it’s more that I just haven’t had the opportunity to meet her.”

“I thought MAYBE if you GOOD FRIENDS you could introduce us, but from SOUND OF THINGS that be hard.”

“I believe she gets along fairly well with my wife, so you ought to ask her about it next time she comes up here—oop, look at the time,” the man said, taking a glance at an ostentatious clock of foreign make that had been hung up on the wall. “I should head back before long.”

“RIGHT. I SHOULD head to PORT soon too.”

“Are you sailing off again? It’s awfully late…”

“It’s MERMAID! I go CATCH MERMAID!”

“…Oh, a mermaid, hm? I suppose I have heard legends that there is a mermaid living in the seas around Onigashima, but—”

“I HEAR that you EAT MERMAID and become IMMORTAL! If we CATCH AND RAISE IT, it’ll make killing on mainland! I not let such DRAMATIC business chance SLIP AWAY!” Perrier shouted, having at some point gotten an enormous harpoon around and in her hand.

“…Well then, good luck with that. I’ll see myself out.”

The man left the trading house, a faintly amazed expression on his face.

.

From there the man headed down the hill. At that point I had already pretty much figured out who he was, but I continued to observe him.

After he had descended the hill and crossed Soukyou Bridge, he advanced through the middle road—and then walked inside the Miroku shop.

“Welcome home, Daddy.”

Rin was the one to greet him.

“Good to see you, Rin. How is Mommy?”

“She’s still resting, but I think she’s got a lot better.”

“I see…Where has Miku gone?”

“Mnn…She’s still at Kiji-san’s, I think.”

The moment he heard that, the man’s face rapidly grew stern. “That disgusting foreigner…I expressly forbid you from ever interacting with that brute!”

“Yelling at me’s not gonna help…And I don’t think Kiji-san is that bad a guy?”

“No means no!”

As he yelled in anger, the man retreated further into the shop.

.

The man’s name was Miroku Kai.

He was the head of the Miroku household.

That meant that Kayo had become convinced that a man with a wife and children was her husband—

But I had no way of telling Kayo that she was mistaken.

The only thing I could do was continue to watch over her.

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[bedbellyandbeyond]

Lore 100

That’s right. This is the 100th chapter in Bed, Belly, and Beyond. This is not including flashbacks however, so we’re a little further than that. I figured, I’d do a bit of a ‘Where are they now’ type thing, and visit most of our characters for one night. I didn’t create any art for it as too many circumstances and characters are involved. I hope you like it. That night, all was well. Dari and Fay had another Happy Day. But this one was a little different with Rheni around. As soon as Fay explained the situation, the Arrhenius man insisted on taking care of the kids that day. He solicited Milo's help with the ins and outs of a Happy Day, but mostly took on the responsibility himself. Fay was able to spend the entire day alone with Dari and they mostly just hung out in the bedroom watching movies and eating food Milo brought up for them. While he loved being with the kids, Fay really did miss these kinds of days alone with his husband. It felt like Dari was the only person he had to worry about and he had been so lonely before without him. Dari had expanded his world they had so much to look forward to together.

Lino and Vi went to a club for date night. Fay had informed his friend of a club that had just opened up run by and for non-humans. It wasn't exclusive, Lino was still allowed in, but it was like being straight at a gay bar. Vi was nervous about it, but Lino insisted they should try it since they'd hardly ever been to any outings like that. When they'd first met, the idea of a club like this seemed impossible. Everything about Vi's very existence was completely clandestine. They spent three weeks talking online before agreeing to meet and Fay had to give him clearance into APID, which involved a lot of security measures, and after descending what felt like a mile into the ground, Vi still tried to hide his true face under the human one he'd been working on. He wasn't very good at it yet though and Lino saw through it immediately, insisting on seeing his real self before they even started talking. He wasn't one for fairytales, but when spikes and horns grew from his dates face, Lino fell in love immediately. To think several years later, they'd be sitting at a club downtown, bopping their heads to a synth tune from Proxima Centauri, surrounded by unmasked extraterrestrials, like Han and Greedo at the Mos Eisley Cantina; they would've never thought it possible. Lino invited a young Pelavian to their booth. His name was Derris. Vi and Derris danced. Lino bought a round of drinks. Derris had a hotel room. Lino bought room service.

Dante watched Kidd while they were out. He didn't have Grey that day, so it was just the triplets and their cousin. Ruben and Yori did some Hanukkah shopping during the day, so Dante took the kids out to a movie so they had time to hide the presents. It was late when everyone got home so it was straight to bed. Dante called Dusty to say goodnight to Grey. In bed, Yori complained about how he wouldn't be able to transform once his pregnancy progressed further. Dante and Ruben were less sympathetic, considering he'd done it to himself. But they couldn’t help but give him belly rubs anyway.

After getting the herd to bed, Rheni started texting Camilo to see how he was doing. Camilo was awake and studying for his exams, but he welcomed the distraction and called Rheni to talk. He asked if Rheni was still keeping up with his online courses and if he was getting any work. The slime man admitted he’d fell behind work and learning for about a month after Camilo had left. He was working now though, and thankfully he was freelance and picked up a new project, he was just a little bit broke at the moment. More than anything, after Camilo, Rheni wanted to know how the baby was doing. Anything Camilo knew about her, he wanted to know it too. Camilo shared, but he didn’t think there was much to say. He sent over his ultrasound pictures, talked about how healthy she was every time he got checked up at the doctor. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be getting health care for his pregnancy from APID, since none of the parties involved were non-human, so he’d been seeing his family doctor for check ups, but he still occasionally was seen by an APID doctor, Dr Gardi before and now Syd, just to continue the research into Rheni’s paternity. One annoying thing he learned was that in pregnancy communities online, if he searched ‘ftm pregnancy’ in any forum, it didn’t mean ‘female to male’ like he’d assumed, but instead ‘first time mom’. It didn’t do well to help him feel welcome, but he’d manage to find some information on other media, like YouTube and blogs, where pregnant transmen had done their own documentation, as if just for him. He couldn’t imagine being that open about it with the world, so he was very thankful for them and even reached out to them if he had any questions. After a bit, they got bored of chit chat and decided to stream the same movie together. Camilo loved sci-fi so they watched Spaceballs and went back to messaging while it ran. After the credits rolled, they were both very tired, so they said goodnight and got to sleep.

Dusty took Grey that day to visit Sydryn. It had been a couple months since Grey had seen the dragon and he was very excited when he saw them again. Syd had assisted in the delivery of Grey in their home and had helped Dusty (although very reluctantly) to raise the child for his first three years of life. In a way, Syd was like a third parent, and they made sure he was fed and cared for properly, despite their constant desire to be completely child free. They didn’t like children and they liked babies even less, but they were good with them and the only thing they had been particularly strict about was colour coordination and noise regulation. This was likely how Grey had become so quiet; Syd hadn’t encouraged speech development and questions as much as they probably should have. But they’d come to realise this now, and apologised to Dusty for it. Dusty forgave them and assured them that Grey’s time with Dante and the triplets had really done good to help him open up. Dusty was of the mind that Sydryn should consider raising their own children when they came because he was sure they’d be a good parent, but Sydryn banished the thought, reaffirming that they preferred to be alone, and even preferred the company of humans more than that of dragons, the latter of which their children would obviously be. In fact, they said, they’d rather raise one hundred children of any other species, than seven dragon hatchlings. They wished they’d never said that though since Dusty was able to use it to trap Sydryn into babysitting for him in the future. They stayed over at Syd’s for the night, eating a smorgasbord of meat cold cuts and fruit, before watching Pretty in Pink to get to sleep.

Dr Reid Gardi was recovering, but he still needed a lot of rest and without Köbi’s assistance, he was not able to wake up. When he was awake, he was delirious and didn’t think straight. He muttered things about faces and angels and dreams, but getting him to answer basic questions was difficult. The strangest thing was that his heartbeat had slowed to no more than a single beat per minute. He shouldn’t have been alive. But he lived. Sydryn considered he might’ve been like a vampire, but Nari was consulted and he assured them that this was not the case. Reid was never bitten, and those this state he was in was similar to the transition to a vampire, it was taking too long. He would’ve died already if he was turning into a vampire. He hadn’t gained any of the characteristics either, save for the paleness. It was still beyond them what was happening to him.

Nathan and Dax took the night slowly. Nathan prepared like he usually would for his transformation; he locked all his most important belongings away in the steel cabinets he’d been provided, ate as much as he could beforehand to help sate the wolf’s appetite, and used a hook to remove the lens caps from the surveillance cameras in the corners. Dax was a bit apprehensive about being surveilled at night, but he understood that Nathan gave consent to be observed while he was the wolf so that APID could intervene in case anything did go wrong during his transformation. Sydryn provided him the paperwork to sign to give his consent as well, and he just tried to ignore the cameras’ existences. The transformation occurred slowly that night. Nathan and Dax were talking about classes and how Dax was restructuring the French immersion programs for students with parents from off planet who might not be able to vocalise the same as a human. It started off as excessive hair growth and once he realised it was starting, Nathan asked Dax to help him undress then get as far away as possible. Dax obeyed and retreated to a corner of the room to watch. When the transformation was done, Dax was simply in awe, thankful to finally see the beautiful animal he'd roomed once before. The wolf was weary of him at first but he knelt down before the creature and stayed still. The wolf approached, sniffing and nudging at his clothes. Finally, the wolf laid down before him and lowered its head. Dax smiled, slowly offering a hand and placing it gently on the wolf's head. The animal whined and let Dax pet them gently. The pregnancy was less noticeable in this form, but the swell was there and the wolf allowed Dax to rub their stomach gently. Whether it was Nathan in control or a spirit of some kind, Dax didn’t know, but he knew that they were going to be alright that night.

[zenithlux]

Cadence  Update - CH 23

In which Roxy and Vergil finally figure something out.

Catch up with the story on AO3 here!

I just think of you and everything you do You’re my one, my from now on… My first love song.

My First Love Song - Luke Bryan

It took Vergil a mere two weeks to not only feel his tail, but learn to control it. By the end of the summer he had a suitable attack pattern down with perfect precision. He could pierce enemies at his feet with a single stab. Swipe enemies away for Roxy to shoot down. The only downside were the extra scales that manifested along his cheek and chin whenever he used it for too long, but Vergil saw that as a promising sign. With more practice, he was certain he could phase different pieces of his devil trigger without a full transformation. He’d be faster, more efficient, and more prepared even without Yamato by his side. 

Once again, Kuro was not impressed. 

“If Sparda had had a tail,” The dragon huffed. “He would have learned all that in a quarter of the time.”

“My father was a more impressive demon than you’ll ever be.”

“I don’t deny that.”

Vergil scowled. “Regardless,”

“You have managed to learn something at least,” Kuro said. “I‘ll give you credit for that.”

And that marked the first time Vergil had ever wanted to strangle a demon rather than tear it to pieces. 

“Alright, alright,” Roxy said as she tossed her bow into the sky. “Stop antagonizing each other.” Aki landed on her shoulder with a distinct chirp of agreement, and purred when she scratched behind his ears. “Let Mori know the demons here are taken care of.”

‘Mori’ was Roxy’s new name for Morrison who she’d met two weeks ago before Nico and Nero left for Fortuna. Since Dante could only take so many jobs (and Vergil had a feeling he was “donating” a few to the other devil hunters in the area), there was an influx of tasks around Roxy’s hometown. Unfortunately for Dante, who wasn’t about to trample on “Vergil’s domain” as he called it, the people in Fallen West Abbey paid significantly more, as there were less devil hunters. They were, therefore, valued much higher. 

It was a lucrative market if Vergil were honest. One he was happy to exploit as much as possible. 

“Is that enough for you?” Vergil said as he sent his tail away. Kuro retreated back into Roxy alongside Aki who gave a soft coo of good-bye. 

“Yep,” She said. “Feeling better than ever.”

“No stasis then.”

She shook her head. “Kuro says his magic is holding stronger than before, so I might get half a year out of it.” She grinned. “All thanks to you.” 

Vergil didn’t bother trying to hide the blush. It would have been futile anyway, one thing he’d come to accept since his promise. She’d teased him about it a single time, but he’d argued that he’d been redder because of the heat (false- his demon regulated his temperature perfectly) and not because he’d just held her for far too long after a sudden demon attack (he’d never admit that). “You’ve been taking better care of yourself.”

That time, it was her turn to blush. “It helps to have someone I want to impress around.”

Vergil blinked. “Impress?”

Her face brightened even more. “Isn’t it strange how many portals have been opening lately?”

Vergil scowled but didn’t press the issue. She was just stubborn enough that the conversation would never go back in that direction. “Considering the current location of Yamato, yes.”

“You don’t think Mundus is behind it… do you?”

“He would have crossed over already if he were.”

Her voice went quiet. “I’m surprised he hasn’t yet.”

As much as he wanted to, Vergil couldn’t disagree. Both Dante and Nero had reported increased portal sightings, but all of them had been small. Most closed after only a few demons crossed, and even fewer could support something as large as Mundus himself. The demon’s voice had, for the most part, quieted in Vergil’s mind. He’d had a few nightmares since the loss of Yamato, but they’d been less… real. Now, instead of being dragged under into an endless, almost inescapable pit, he was aware of them. Twice, he’d managed to pull himself out, though he didn’t miss the way Aki just so happened to slip back through the walls whenever he did so. 

He still didn’t know if Roxy was aware of his nightmares, or if the demons were hyper attuned to his demonic half’s plight. But she’d never brought it up, he’d never asked, and it had remained a mystery ever since. 

Just because you’re afraid of her…

Nero’s words weighed heavier on Vergil’s mind than he expected. Afraid. What could he possibly be afraid of? Physically she was no match for him (not that he cared about such a thing). She was intelligent, yes, but he’d argue he was at least on par with her despite his lack of general “street smarts” as Dante put it. She rarely said no to anything he asked, so he doubted she would reject him if he did “ask her out” (Nero’s not so subtle wording that he smacked Vergil with when Roxy wasn’t listening). 

But Vergil didn’t know if it was the right time for such a thing. How long did people need to know each other before one ‘asked the other out’? Why did that feel like such a childish idea? Would asking her change their relationship at all? They were already close friends. They already lived together, as Vergil had decided there was no use in wasting a second apartment when he didn’t have many personal belongings. It was almost the same arrangement; Vergil on the couch when he actually slept, and Roxy on the bed. Their schedule was the same. Their lives were the same. 

So… are we already in a relationship? 

“Vergil?”

He blinked once before his gaze fell to hers. She was absurdly close now, so much so that if he breathed just a bit deeper, their bodies would touch. He didn’t know why she did that, as it required her to tilt her head at a rough angle to actually look up at him. Maybe it was so she could keep her voice down. 

Maybe I should ask. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

She frowned. “You don’t seem fine.”

“Just a lot on my mind.”

“Like?”

His mouth went dry. “It’s not important.”

The look she gave him - the pain in her eyes - made his heart clench in his chest. She must have thought he didn’t trust her. That the discourse that was going on in his head was more important than her. Vergil wished he could tell her the truth. He wished he could tell her the million things whirling through his mind. But whenever he tried…

“It’s fine.” She said. “I get it.”

“Roxy.”

“Don’t worry,” She said with a sad smile. “I understand.”

“Are we a…?”

“How do you…?”

A phone call stopped them both. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Roxy reached for her phone, grimaced, and hit the accept button. “What do you want?”

Vergil blinked. He’d never heard such hostility from her before. Who was she talking to? She didn’t have any debt collectors like Dante (and smooth talk worked better on them anyway). It couldn’t be her mother (and Vergil doubted Roxy would talk to her like that either). 

“Good to hear from you too,” a man’s voice echoed from the other end of the line. “Trust me, I wish I wasn’t making this phone call either. But your presence has been requested at this year’s Art Gala. And I am bound by contract to invite anyone who receives even half the number of recommendations you did.” He sighed. “It seems you’re making a name for yourself, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Again,” He snapped. “I wouldn’t be making this call if I had a choice. So are you coming or not?”

“No one ever responds over the phone,” She said, her voice a touch too smug. “Afraid you’re going to have to send the official invitation and I’ll get back to you.”

Vergil could practically hear the scowl. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting your response, Roxanna.”

She hung up on him, and Vergil knew from the look in her eyes alone exactly who that had been. Bryson. The infamous ex-boyfriend. Now it all made sense.

“He got your number.”

“Looks that way,” Roxy said. 

“Are you going to accept his… invitation?” Vergil asked slowly. He didn’t really know exactly what they were talking about. It sounded prestigious, but Vergil didn’t know anything about it. She’d never mentioned it before, and she clearly knew something. 

“I would rather not even see him again,” Roxy said. “He’s the whole reason I moved back here.” She crossed her arms, but Vergil didn’t miss the way they shook. He wasn’t, however, certain if it was rage, exhaustion, or if she was close to tears. Nothing else about her gave anything away. “But this stupid Gala...”

“It’s important to you.”

“Very,” She sighed. “It’s one of the biggest art shows on this side of the country. To have any art displayed, you need at least five hundred people to vouch for your work personally which is almost impossible. I gave up on the matter years ago, but it seems my clients are more aware of it than I thought.” She sighed again. “And if he’s telling the truth, I’ll get to display three pieces, which is astronomical. So much more exposure. More work. More money. You get the jist.” 

“You could have promoted yourself.”

“I’ve tried before,” She said. “I don’t really care about the money, Vergil. I just want people to enjoy my work. If that means sticking with a small group of clients, great. If it means I get to show my work to thousands of rich people, that’s great too.” She waved him off. “But that isn’t the point. Bryson is a museum director. That’s how we met. And this year, he’s one of the hosts. Which means if I accept this offer, then I will be showing my work under his watch. And knowing him, he’ll do nothing but complain about it for hours on end.” Her frown deepened. “It’s six months away and I can already feel him ruining everything.”

“Don’t let him.”

“He already has.”

“No,” Vergil said as he attempted to mimic her tone from earlier. It only half worked, but he saw the flicker of a smile on her face before she could hide it. “Because you aren’t going alone.”

“I mean…” She started “Going to the Gala with someone is like attending a wedding, you know?” Vergil’s head tilted ever so slightly, and she continued. “You don’t tend to invite people unless you’re like… a thing.”

A thing. Why was that the term people used for relationships? Vergil had just assumed it was Nero being… Nero. But throwing that aside, Vergil, in a rather bold display, said, “are we?”

She stared at him. “I… don’t know.”

He frowned. “How do you not…?”

“You’ve never asked.”

“... Am I supposed to?”

After a moment of silence, she broke into laughter. Again. At least he was good at getting that kind of reaction from her or they’d be in trouble. “Yes!” She said. “I mean… I could have I guess. But with everything going on… and what you’ve told me about your past and Mundus and…” Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “I just didn’t feel it was my place to ask you. Maybe I was… I don’t know... overthinking it.” She turned slightly away from him and glanced up at the sky. It was a cloudy day - maybe not the best weather for whatever this conversation was - and Vergil had felt at least a few droplets of rain in the last twenty minutes. “I care a lot about you,” She said as she met his gaze again. “But I wasn’t sure… if…”

“I wouldn’t take care of you if I didn’t,” Vergil said. “I never would have accepted.”

“Then you’ve been thinking about this awhile.”

“... Not consciously.”

She chuckled. “I get it.”

“Why me?”

It was Roxy’s turn to tilt her head. “What do you mean?”

“The day we met,” Vergil said. “And each time after that, I was nothing but cold to you. But you still talked with me. Made bookmarks for me. Left your number twice, even after I ignored you for weeks at a time,” He took a breath to slow his thoughts down. “Why?”

“Kuro asked me the same thing.”

“What?”

“When we first met,” She said. “Before he realized who you were, he called you pretentious and said I’d have better luck befriending a fish.”

“... A fish.”

“I know right?” She threw her hands up into the air. “How silly of a comparison is that? A damn fish!? Fish are boring. You’re…” She trailed off as her hands fell back to her sides. “You weren’t. And it just... I had this feeling. I wanted to get to know you, but something kept telling me to wait. Don’t push it. If he wants to, he’ll call you. Just wait. Yadda yadda.” She waved her hand in a vague gesture. “So… I did. And lo and behold…”

“Here I am.”

“Exactly.” She rubbed at her arm. “But I didn’t expect to… fall for you.”

Fall for you. Why did those three words knock the air from his lungs?

Maybe it was because she’d never admitted it before?

“But that voice kept telling me to wait. Because I’ve lost so many things in my life… I didn’t want to risk losing you too.”

Gently, Vergil ran his hand along her cheek. Her green eyes stared back; a torment of emotions he couldn’t quite pick apart. But he realized at that moment that he didn’t have to. Not when her own hand reached up to brush his cheek. Not when she stared into his eyes with more confidence than most of the people in his life. There was nothing to say between them that hadn’t already been said. Nothing to say that hadn’t already been shared in small, unspoken ways. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He said.

“I know.”

When he leaned forward… when his lips brushed hers for the second time that month… His phone rang. Dante’s ringtone. Probably urgent. 

Roxy groaned. “What kind of luck is…?”

Vergil kissed her. A soft, slow, sensual kiss that had him seeing stars and he was the one leading it. Her lips were so impossibly soft, and he could taste the strawberry lip gloss she’d only recently started wearing. He didn’t think about it too much (clever), preferring to pull her just a bit closer. It was a bit awkward, and he knew they’d have a lot better time when she wasn’t having to stand on the tips of her toes to kiss him back. But, despite the hazy weather, the impending rain, and the second round of Dante’s ringtone, the moment felt right. His heart thundered in his ears as it pounded against his chest. He could hear hers doing the same, especially when her fingers brushed along the nape of his neck. Vergil shivered - why did that of all things feel so good? - but didn’t pull away. Neither of them wanted to. 

But when the phone started ringing for the third time, Vergil inwardly sighed and the moment ended in a silent, mutual agreement. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her head fall against his chest as he reached for the phone. “What do you want?” 

“I’ve got some bad news and some worse news.” 

“What is it, Dante?”

“Yamato’s missing, Verge,” His brother said. “And I don’t have a clue who took it.” 

Ko-fi – Master List – AO3

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and a Brewing Fire Part III

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

A/N: here we go, I’m sorry for hoarding this chapter for so long, I actually had it 95% finished before Spring Break, I just needed to add a couple of paragraphs and revise. But here it is now and I’ve already started in the next chapter. As always let me know what you guys think, Good, Bad, or otherwise, it really helps me as a writer. Also just another reminder this is a SLOW BURN story, so yeah the actions pretty liteeeee

PART ONE - PART TWO

~*~

You awoke to the sunlight pouring into your bedroom. You weren’t quite ready to get up yet so you shrunk back into your pillow, attempting to pull the covers over your head but they wouldn’t move. You tugged a little harder but they wouldn’t move an inch. You cracked an eye open only to be met with the figure of your late night guest sleeping peacefully beside you. He also was the reason you were currently unable to retreat into your blankets, his enormous figure taking up most of them.

You took a moment to examine him. He slept on his tummy, face buried into his pillow. You knew he had to have been in an incredibly deep sleep because his durag was sliding off his head a little. You reached over and adjusted it for him, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up. He didn’t even twitch.

You decided now was as good a time as any to get up since it looked like you weren’t gonna be going back to sleep any time soon. You pulled back the covers then suddenly remembered you’d slept in just your underwear and a T-shirt. You grabbed some real clothes from your drawer and made a b-line to the bathroom to get dressed.

Once you were presentable enough to not have bacon grease pop on your bare thigh, you headed downstairs to cook some breakfast.

You had no idea what time Nebraska fell asleep last night so you couldn’t really tell if you should wake him up for breakfast or let him sleep through. The snow was falling at a steady pace and starting to really build up outside.

You decided to cook a vegan omlette with spinach for breakfast. You went ahead and made two, just in case Nebraska woke up hungry. He could always just heat it up.

You’d barely got them out of the skillet and onto the plate when he came trudging down the stair.

“Good morning sleepyhead, you’re just in time for breakfast.” You said setting down both plates.

“Morning,” his voice was still heavy with sleep. He walk to the cupboard to get himself a glass of water, chugging the whole thing then filling up another.

“How’d you sleep last night?” You asked cutting at a piece of the omelette.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he said rubbing his eyes as he sat down.

“Well they say ambiance is everything. Wish I could’ve put on my ‘Rainstorms’ playlist, that’ll really knock your out.” You rambled taking a bite of your omelette. You glanced at your phone, realizing it was later than you thought. With the snow picking up outside you’d probably need a little extra time to get to work so you decided to go ahead and start getting dressed. You trashed the remainder of your breakfast and headed to put your plate in the sink.

“You’re finished already?” Nebraska said eyeing your now empty plate. Your pretty sure this was the first time he spoke to you without you prompting him. Progress.

“Yeah I gotta go get ready for work,” you said turning around to wash your plate.

“At the museum right?”

“Yeah actually! How’d you know?”

“Your uncle told me. He talks about you a lot.”

“No embarrassing stories I hope,” you chuckled. The corners of Nebraska’s mouth turned upwards slightly in an almost smile.

“The museums closed today isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“It was on the News.” Of course he would be the type of guy to watch the news. You quickly called your boss, her phone ringing three times before she finally picked up.

“Hello?” She said gruffly.

“Mrs. Tilly? It’s Y/N,”

“Ooohhhhh Y/N! Hello dear how are you?”

“Fantastic. Is work cancelled today?”

“Oh you don’t know? There’s supposed to be a major blizzard rolling through tonight. Don’t you watch the news?” If you could express your eyeroll through the phone, you would.

“No Mrs. Tilly, I didn’t catch the news this morning,” you deadpanned.

“Oh well the museum received notice per the City Regulations Department that all public facilities, the museums and schools alike, were to be closed for the rest of the week. This is a great opportunity for you to get some rest dear, you’ve been working so hard lately on those new exhibits, take some time for yourself for once ,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you Mrs. Tilly, stay safe,”

“You too dearie!” You hung up the phone and headed back to the kitchen.

“Apparently the museum is closed. All week in fact. And I had so much work to catch up on,” you sighed, looking in the fridge to survey the amount of groceries you had left. You hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while because of how busy you’d been at work but you definitely were going to have to make a trip if being snowed in for the next 3-4 days was a possibility.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to make a quick run for groceries and supplies, would you like to go with me?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Sure,”

~*~

An hour later you and Nebraska were piled into your car and driving into town. With where your house was, it was about a 20 minute drive just to reach the entrance of town. You turned the radio up, hoping to kill a little bit of the silence but a new rendition of Jingle Bells was all that sounded through the vehicle.

“Sheesh it’s still October,” Nebraska muttered sinking into his seat.

“Not a big fan of Christmas music?” You asked, eyes on the road.

“Nah, not really .” You changed the station. Mariah Carey singing “We Belong Together,” took its place.

~*~

“Okay so almond milk, oatmeal, tofu, r-“

“Can I ask you something?” Nebraska chimed in as you read off your grocery list while the two of you strolled down the aisles.

“Of course, ask away,”

“So being vegan was a personal choice or is it a health thing or-“

“I’m not vegan.”

“Not?”

“At all.”

“Ohhhh,” he looked down awkwardly and you smirked.

“What? You don’t like my cooking?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It’s just... um.... different.” He nodded, a small smirk playing at his own lips.

“Well if you don’t like it then tell me what you’d like me to cook then,” you chuckled continuing down the aisle.

“Maybe we cou-

“Y/N! Oh it’s been so long!” You and Nebraska turned around to see just who was calling for you.

It was none other than Tonya Manning, Principal of Dauntley High School, the only high school in town. She would routinely bring her students to the museum once a semester for a field trip, which she’d always set up and coordinate through you.

“Principal Manning, it’s great to see you. I’m assuming they cancelled school today?” You smiled as she came in to give you a hug.

“Oh no they cancelled all schools two days ago. Don’t you watch the news?” She said releasing you.

“Apparently not enough,”

“Oh hello! You must be Y/N’s man she’s been hiding! I’m Tonya Manning,” Tonya said holding out her hand. Nebraska politely took it.

“Nebraska Williams. And we’re.... not... like that.” He said obviously uncomfortable.

“He’s just a friend, Tonya. He’s taking a little vacation from the military right now so he’s staying with me.” You chimed in.

“Vacation from the military? How long you in town for?” Damn this woman was nosey.

“Couple months, don’t really have a solid time frame.” Nebraska spoke but you doubted Tonya heard a word of it. She was looking this man up and down as if he was a ribeye steak and she was a starving Cayote that hadn’t eaten in weeks. You knew he was good looking but apparently you weren’t the only one with working vision in this town .

“Well, we actually have a position open at the school. Our current JROTC coach is in his 80s and could use a strong, young militant like yourself to help get the kids who wanna serve in shape. The JROTC program is getting bigger and bigger each year and we really have to start expanding.” She smiled digging in her purse to pull out her business card before giving it to him.

“Give me a call sometime and we’ll set it up.” She bit her lip and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes ma’am,” Nebraska smirked and you began to realize whatever chance Tonya thought she stood might actually be mutual. You couldn’t really blame Nebraska, she was pretty, tall, had curves in all the right places and had even extra backside she retained curtesy of her two kids she had by her exhusband. Any man would go for her the same way any woman would go for him.

“Well it was nice seeing you again Tonya, call me soon and we’ll get that museum field trip in motion,” you spoke up sweetly to interrupt the giving each other bedroom eyes.

“Of course,of course! Bye Y/N, see you soon, Nebraska,” she smiled coyly, causing him to give a little wave. You could puke all over the both of them.

“So.... lets go get milk,” you smiled sweetly heading down the aisle.

~*~

The two of you were back home a couple of hours later, putting up groceries, or rather you watching Nebraska bring in and put up groceries while you attempted to help put away the small stuff.

“Are you hungry? Want me to make dinner?” You asked putting away the last of the groceries.

“No! But um thank you, I’m just not hungry.” You might have actually believed him if his stomach didn’t grumble the second he finished talking.

“Do you really hate my cooking that much?” You asked in a small voice.

“No! It’s not that! I just- I mean- you-“ he was at a lost for words and you couldn’t help the small smile that broke out across your lips.

“It’s okay, we just ate anyway so we’ll hold off on dinner for now,” you chuckled, getting a glass of water.

“Yeah we uh... just ate,” Nebraska glanced at his watch with his eyebrows furrowed. You headed up to your room and decided to get a head start on getting ready for bed since you’d be sleeping in Nebraska’s room tonight.

You really were genuinely happy he got a good night’s rest in your room. You would just take the necessities with you tonight but if need be, you could always switch rooms with him completely, it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to rearrange the two rooms.

Once out the shower and dressed for bed you decided to get as much work done as you could on your laptop for the new exhibits at the museum. Time must have slipped away from you because before you knew it, there was a light knock on your door, followed by Nebraska entering. He was dressed a bit more modest tonight, opting for Sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Too early?” He asked, closing the door behind him. You glanced at the clock on your screen and saw it was already 9:30 p.m.

“Not at all,” you smiled warmly. You saw a small smile grace his lips before he adverted his eyes, smile still playing at his mouth.

He hopped into bed in the exact same spot as the night before, damn near on the edge of the bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful of your side but you didn’t really see the point since you wouldn’t be here anyways.

“You can come lie in the middle of you want, you don’t have to sleep on the edge,” you said shutting your laptop and getting up to set it on your desk.

“Oh okay,” Nebraska mumbled, inching closer to the middle. You continued over to your oil diffuser and set the scent on Lavender, your favorite fragrance to get you to sleep. You then connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker in it and set your Quiet Thunderstorms playlist going.

“Too loud?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“It’s perfect,” he muttered in that deep voice and you felt your cheeks heat up. This entire situation could be taken out of context and be used in the most romantic daydream, but you had to snap yourself out of it. He was simply a guest of your Uncle. You had no right to look at him in such a way, he didn’t come here to be harassed like that.

“Well then in that case, Good Night and Sweet Dreams,” you bid your adieu and turned the lights out, leaving only the soft everescent glow of your fairy lights illuminating the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nebraska asked right as you were about to shut the door behind you.

“To your room?” You said turning around.

“Why are you going there?”

“Because we’re switching rooms so you’ll sleep better. You said last night was the best nights sleep you had in a while so if my room had anything to do with it, consider it all yours.” You smiled but he didn’t notice. You saw that something was clearly bothering him.

“I did say that. Okay, well uh, Good night then,” he said gruffly and you left but the whole thing was awkward. Did he not want you to sleep in his room? Where did he expect you to sleep? The couch? Not that you couldn’t but that’d get pretty old after a couple nights.

You settled yourself into Nebraska bed, still cold and perfectly made, feeling like it hadn’t been touched in 2 years instead of just 2 days. You couldn’t resist burying your head into the pillow, trying to catch the faint scent of his cologne but it wasn’t there. You were damn near exhausted earlier and now you found that sleep eluded you.

You been staring out the enormous window when you heard the door crack open.

“Y/N? You still up?” Nebraska whispered, well as much as his deep tenor would allow, while peaking his head through the door.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Can, um, can you come... back?”

“Back to my room? You changed your mind already? I thought the atmosphere helped you go to sleep.”

“It wasn’t the atmosphere that was soothing me to sleep...” Nebraska trailed off and suddenly you knew exactly what he meant.

~*~

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy @killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots @blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73 @sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles @bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks @blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88 @labelletemps @wawakanda-btch

[starlight-drive-in]

All My Life, for You - Ch. 2

This chapter: Saeyoung Choi/MC (named), Saeyoung Choi/OC Saeran Choi/OC

Fic Description: Mi-Cha and Saeyoung have been happily married for 5 years and their lives have never been happier. The same could be said for Saeran who is now in a much healthier place than he was a few years ago. The twins are close once again, their lives are healthy and normal for the most part. It would seem the picture perfect happily ever after, if it weren’t for the fact that someone who has been looking for them for a long time is about to make an unwelcome appearance.

Saeyoung has two things in this world he has sworn to protect, and nothing is going to stop him from keeping his promise this time.

Chapter Description: Saeran takes a little alone time, which subsequently gets interrupted. He may or may not be happy about this.Mi-Cha and Saeyoung attempt to be sneaky.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773562/chapters/46928929

Saeran sits cross-legged on a large rock that marks the summit of the mountain trail he's been working his way up for the past 40 minutes. Slightly winded, he takes deep breaths and focuses on recovering himself. "Whew, I need to work out." He tells himself.

He takes another deep breath of fresh mountain air and savors the way it fills his lungs. It's been years since Mint Eye, even longer since he was trapped in that God-forsaken excuse for a house. Even still, the feeling of freedom manages to take him by surprise. The sheer fact that he's allowed to do this, allowed to do what he wants when he wants. It still feels foreign.  Some things will haunt him forever, he knows that. But being able to have a life is more than he ever hoped for.

He pointedly takes a moment to fully absorb his surroundings. To his left, he can see the hotels, restaurants, and shops that line the edge of the beach below him. The beach has mostly cleared out by now although he can spot a few couples taking sunset strolls along the water’s edge. He scans the length of the beach, searching for his brother’s telltale red hair, wondering if one of the couples on the beach might be his brother and sister-in-law.

Ahead of him lies the reason he made this hike to begin with - a beautiful sunset painted in reds and purples, quickly taking over the blue that was there before. Long strings of clouds run the length of the horizon as sun meets ocean, light dancing on the waves. He takes another deep breath and smiles. He’s always loved the sky. When he had nothing else he still had the sky. Even when all he had was one small window to look at it through, the sky was always there. Always beautiful and always breathtaking, a faithful companion when all else was lost.

He remains for the next hour or so until the sun has all but finished its decline below the horizon. Taking the flashlight out of the small pack on his back he begins decent back down the mountain to the hotel. On the way down he contemplates what to do when he gets back to his room. He’s pretty hungry, grabbing dinner himself seems to be a good place to start.

He stops at one of the many restaurants on the way back, opting for a bar seat instead of a whole booth with him being only one person. He orders and then takes his phone out while he waits, seeing he has a few new messages.

Saeyoung: Don't get up to too much trouble without me now, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ;)

He scoffs. What exactly is that supposed to mean anyway? He thinks, not bothering to actually respond

Mi-Cha: Sorry about leaving you on your own tonight, if you need us to come back just say the word!

Mi-Cha is way to considerate. She always has been, always. Everyone knows this about her- it’s immediately obvious to most upon meeting her for the first time. Ah. but he’s known that about her longer than any of their friends, or even his own brother. It was specifically the reason he had chosen back her then. He shudders then, slightly embarrassed at his past behavior. In the end, it would seem that he inadvertently played matchmaker for Saeyoung. He’d have to remember to give his brother shit about owing him one later. Thinking about how much things have changed, he smiles.

He’s so absorbed in his own self-reflection that he doesn't even notice a woman sit down next to him.

“You must like her a lot.” She says, grabbing his attention finally.

He’s caught off-guard for a moment and stares blankly at her blue eyes.

“W-who?” he stutters embarrassed.

“Your girlfriend, or whoever's making you smile like that.” She giggles.

“Oh, I wasn’t. I don’t. Uh, I don't have a girlfriend.”

“Oh?” She asks.“A boyfriend, perhaps?”

“Oh, no - uh- not that either, I’m single.” He clarifies.

Her face brightens visibly. “Is that so? Well in that case, whatcha drinking? Vodka soda?” She motions exaggeratedly to his glass.

Am I being hit on right now? He thinks to himself Probably not right? She just wants someone to talk to he’s sure of it.

He chuckles.“Seltzer, I- uh don't really drink.”

“Damn, I’m not doing too good here tonight” She giggles. “I guess it’s true what they say about making assumptions.”

“It’s fine.” He says, not really knowing how to respond but smiling politely.

She twists a finger around a lock of dark hair nervously, the boost of confidence she inspired in herself a moment before coming over here quickly wearing off. “So - uh, you here on vacation?”

“Yea, with my brother and sister-in-law. Family bonding ya know?” This conversation isn't the most comfortable thing for him, but it’s not entirely unwelcome either. “How about you?”

“Girls weekend out.” She says, a slightly sarcastic tone in her voice. “Which apparently turned into ‘Let's all get drunk and pass out and leave Jisun on her own’ weekend.”

“Ah. Yea that doesn't exactly sound like what you signed up for.” He responds empathetically. His food arrives and he thanks the server quickly, then turns his attention back to her.

She scoffs. “You've got that right. Eh, it’s whatever. Kinda needed a break anyway. Not that I don't love them. It’s just sometimes their energy is a little much for me. I’m sorry that probably doesn't make any sense.”

He understands completely though. “It does. I feel like that a lot with my own friends, especially my brother. Too much energy for his own good. Sometimes I just need to get away from him.”

“Yes! Exactly! Ugh, feels nice to talk to someone who gets it.” She smiles earnestly, feeling a lot more comfortable than before.

He returns her smile also feeling a tad more relaxed and truly takes in her image for the first time. Her hair is actually a very dark violet and comes just to her shoulders, her eyes a deep blue. A swath of freckles dots her nose and upper cheeks. She’s wearing a simple dress with a large floral pattern - Hibiscus - he recognizes them as, how ironic. He takes a sip of his drink and decides he agrees with the sentiment.

His phone beeps with a new notification, Mi-Cha checking up on him, of course. He takes a moment to reply before setting it back down.

She shifts slightly in her seat, “Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal-”

“You’re not interrupting” He interjects, feeling slightly rude for being on his phone. “I-It’s nice to talk to someone new.”

“Yea? Yea, I agree” She says.

“You said your name was Jisun?” She nods affirmatively. “I’m Saeran.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Saeran.”

Just then her own phone begins to ring in her clutch purse. She answers it and immediately her eyes go wide at whatever the person on the other end has said. "Yea, yea ok I'll be right there." She ends the call and looks over at him looking a bit disappointed.

"Ugh, I'm sorry. Duty calls looks like I've gotta go babysit some sick drunks."

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't also feeling disappointed. "Ah well, I wish you good luck then. You might wanna pick up some cleaning supplies, and maybe some painkillers on your way back?" He offers.

"Looks like someone has experience." She notes.

"Ha, yes, unfortunately."

"Well, I hope you have a good night, Saeran."

He smiles. "I'd say the same but."

She laughs at that and begins to retreat toward the door.

"And lots of water!" He adds over the din of the restaurant.

She gives him a thumbs up on her way out the door. She was going to have to give her friends a long, loud talking to in the morning about how they inadvertently pulled her away from a very cute guy.

Saeran watches wistfully out the window as she proceeds down the sidewalk. He dares to hope they’ll meet again, however unlikely that may be.

-

"It’s the hottest planet in our Solar System, which is a little weird when you think about it because it's not the closest to the sun. Mercury is, but guess what?" Saeyoung explains excitedly, holding Mi-Cha's hand while the two of them walk back to the hotel.

Mi-Cha smiles thoughtfully, enchanted at how enthusiastic he gets over things he's passionate about. Suddenly a familiar shock of red hair catches her eye through a nearby restaurant window.

"Saeyoung." She says, releasing his hand as she peers through the window, trying to stay close to the side as not to be noticed by the current object of her attention.

"Mercury has no atmosphere to regulate its temperature. So. Its temperature fluctuation is all over the place and you know what else?."

"Saeyoung!" She says louder this time.

"Ya?"

"I-is that Saeran?" She says in a hushed tone, pointing to a man at the far corner of the restaurant's bar.

Saeyoung's mouth falls open when he spots his brother.

"Yea but who is that?" He ducks around her to try to get a better look but she pulls him back.

"Don't! He'll see you!" She scolds in a whisper. "We’ve got to be sneaky!.

"Why are you whispering?" He whispers.

"Why are you?" She retorts.

"Just following your lead, boss." He answers.

"Don't you forget it." She mumbles. "Ok, ok but seriously who is she?"

"The girl reading this" Saeyoung says dramatically. Before laughing at his own joke.

Mi-Cha snickers "Saeyoung!"

"Hehe." Is his only response as the two of them sneakily peek through the window again.

"She's pretty." The pair say in unison.

"Like really pretty! Has he said anything to you about a girl?" Mi-Cha inquires.

"No, you?"

"Mm-mm" she shakes her head back and forth.

"I'm calling him." Saeyoung says pulling his phone from his pants pocket.

Mi-Cha quickly plucks his phone from his hand. "Wait, don't."

"But MCeeee he could be in danger!" He begs.

Mi-Cha looks again at the two of them through the window. The girl says something and Saeran smiles brightly, seemingly at ease. "Oh, yea he looks like he's in a lot of danger."

"That's just how they get you."

"Sae, come on. Let him have a little fun. He's not a kid, he can take care of himself."

"It's my sworn duty to protect him as an older brother!"

"You know you're twins right? You're only like 3 minutes older or something like that." She says, taking her own phone out and quickly typing a message. She watches through the window as Saeran’s phone lights up. He looks down at it and picks it up, eyeing the girl apologetically before taping a couple times and setting it back down.

Her own phone vibrates confirming what she already knew was true.

Mi-Cha: Heading back to hotel, you all good?

Sae2: All good, out getting food.

"See? You worry too much!"

"I can't help it!"

"I know Babe" she responds, taping him lightly on the nose before offering him her hand. "Come on, let's go! Your brother left us alone on our date, let's leave him alone on his!"

"Do you really think it's a date?!" He asks, wide eyed taking her outstretched hand.

"I have no idea," she laughs. "But If it is, he deserves some privacy. Plus I have other plans for you.” She gives him a devilish smile.

“Oh?” Saeyoung replies, completely forgetting his prior mission. “In that case, lead the way!”

---

The Victorian Flower Language meaning for Hibiscus is 'delicate beauty', :) (Or at least that's what google told me so that's what i'm going with.)