#fine line side notes sticky tabs

[caesarflickermans]

Aside of the list of natural disasters, the first time we read of fire is the smoky fire from the damp branches back at home (THG, 2), while Prim and Mrs. Everdeen are starving and Katniss is searching for food. Katniss fire is smoky, it's coming from damp branches: Her flames are minimal, and they are dying.

The next time we read about fire, it's the moment that Peeta gives Katniss the bread.

This moment has commonly (and rightfully) been read as an offer of survival, and a life-giving gesture (THG, 2). Of course, him extending the bread to her despite the physical repercussions he went through further mirrors the self-sacrificial nature Peeta has in the 74th Games (THG, 9/THG, 14).

But this moment is significant insofar of its early flames:

It was the boy. In his arms, he carried two large loaves of bread that must have fallen into the fire because the crusts were scorched black. (THG, 2)

I shoved the loaves up under my shirt, wrapped the hunting jacket tightly about me, and walked swiftly away. The heat of the bread burned into my skin, but I clutched it tighter clinging to life. (THG, 2)

Those are Peeta's flames. It's him who throws the bread into fire, and it's his bread that burns into Katniss' skin. As much as the bread as a food item is a means of survival, the bread, too, is keeping Katniss warm when she walks home. The bread is what allowed her to survive until the dandelion, until becoming a hunter and keeping herself and her family alive. Without the heat of the bread that burned into her skin, none of this would have happened.

As much as credit Katniss for being the rebel (be it with Rue, with Peeta, with the berries), the earliest act of rebellion chronologically is Peeta's. It's Peeta who had every reason to look away: No one else cared for Katniss and Prim starving before their eyes. He endured punishment, and had more to lose if he were caught.

But Peeta's kindness and care for Katniss was the fire that had caught her and burned into her skin. It was this moment that gave Katniss the fire to spread to the rest of the nation several years later.

The fire had always been there, and it hadn't been Katniss' flame who was there first.

[tragedy-of-commons]

call to action

boothill x gn!reader | wc: ~1.4k

Always get your hopes up.

tags/warnings: alcohol mentions and references (reader actually doesn't drink explicitly), romantic tension, ipc cog reader, mental gymnastics, pining in a weird constipated way

notes: this is a request from a lovely ao3 commenter, aqua! "...i'd like to request a Boothill x IPC reader if that's fine?" + i also combined this with a dialogue prompt from @/promptlyprompting!

“You’d be a fool to say no.”

Boothill’s voice remains a coarse drawl that almost sounds scolding. Even if your way of running the show has always been at odds with his, he’s never outright called you a fool of all things. His offer hangs in the air, making the sticky atmosphere of the bar even more unbearable. The bulbous red light fixtures sway overhead as the ringleader of a nearby group slams an animated fist on the counter, licks of crimson fleetingly painting the tops of your heads.

You laugh, drink going untouched as it always does; at the end of the night, when you both fight over the tab, you always surrender yours over to him as a peace offering. Maybe tonight you’ll need to give more than that to appease him. “I’d be a bigger fool to listen to you. You aren’t exactly known for being the most reasonable of the bunch.”

“I don’t extend this opportunity to just anyone,” he reminds you, lips curling into a toothy grin. “To me, it seems like you’re looking for excuses to miss out like you always do. That mind of yours ain’t too rigid for Galaxy Ranger business, y’know. I bet you’d make it work.”

Boothill is weird, that much is apparent, yes, but only he would ask you to join him on his journey, call you a fool, and then compliment your mindset all in the same artificial breath. His audacity is so offensive that it’s a wonder that Lan themself hasn’t struck him down. He gets away with so much - including making you hope for a different future. Including making you hope for a different future with him.

The exterior of the bar is just as cramped and loud as the interior. Visitors modding their vehicles on the outcrop of the main strip—Mechanic’s Haven—shout and drill away at the innards of spaceships, drones, satellites, and whatever else - wayward sparks landing at the feet of shoppers and pedestrians. There’s something to be said about an IPC lackey and a Galaxy Ranger walking into a bar, but he wisely refrains. 

You sigh. “You know I can’t. As fun as chasing pipe dreams with you would be, I’m locked into a contract with the largest corporation in the whole known universe,” you make a point of gesturing to your uniform. “That kind of obligation doesn’t just go away, even if you run from it.”

He snorts, an empathetic little thing. Boothill then pops his hat off and situates it on your head, much to your chagrin. The noise you let out is affronted, the brim of the relic obscuring the better part of your vision. How disgustingly fond of him. “I see where you’re comin’ from, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you to reconsider. You’d be a much better fit here than there.”

(The unspoken words stick to the roof your mouth. You’d be a much better fit with me than with them.)

Part of you agrees. There’s always been a scale in your head that weighs the fairness of each step you take - measuring the footfalls of others in tandem with yours; you know what it is like to have a strong sense of justice that itches to be upheld. Boothill witnessed this side of you firsthand, when the first words you ever spoke to him were something along the lines of: “Leave the freelancers here alone. Those are the prices, and they’re that steep for a reason. Pay him in full or I’ll make sure you’re in need of a few more repairs.”

You’re also aware of the strange role you play in this. Being on the IPC’s payroll, the contractual thing to do was to report the outlaw to your superiors immediately and enjoy the generous bounty on his head, but you didn’t. You didn’t because when you came face to face with the Boothill, you were ambushed with a childlike wonder you hadn’t felt in years, even if your righteous admonishment didn’t reflect it.

Nowadays, this dingy old bar with no name isn’t the same without his wild tales. Mechanic’s Haven isn’t the same without him at your side as you weave through the clusters of people, him poking fun at your job and your unwillingness to turn him in. When he calls you one of the good ones, you begrudgingly call him a pretty stand-up guy. He gets a kick out of that.

This planetary pitstop is growing more suffocating by the minute. You tip the hat upward to let it sit on your head at a higher angle so you can actually see, narrowed eyes trained on your companion. “You think so? And what makes you so sure, huh?”

He makes a show of flexing his fingers before balling the scrapwork appendages into a fist, taking great care in placing it over where his heart would be, if he was not the thing he is now. The look he fixes you with is complicated, layers of something hidden behind that thick accent and the centers of those crosshairs. “Call it a gut feeling. Y’know, as arbitrary,” he enunciates the word painstakingly, “as the universe is, there’s a reason we met. You got what it takes… and I ain’t afraid to shy away from that truth like you are.”

There it is again. “I’m not afraid. I just happen to think before I act.”

Boothill sighs and swipes your drink that’s been collecting dust with a deft hand, knocking it back. He recovers, gaze raking over your form. It isn’t salacious in the slightest, you think, the way he starts at the tip of his hat’s feather to the silver insignia resting over your heart. Maybe his eyes lingered on your lips too, but that could be you injecting something pointless like hope into this relationship that doesn’t need to be there. That seems more likely. 

“A little too much if I do say so myself,” he guffaws, much to the displeasure of the other patrons. He plucks his hat back off your head with something like amusement, returning it to its rightful place. “You’re as stubborn as a mule, but I know when I’ve been bested. Come on, it’s gettin’ late.”

You two don’t fight over the tab this time around, him sliding a generous amount of credit to the barkeep who just looks slightly bewildered at two of his regulars not verbally fistfighting each other like they normally do. The question in his stare makes your cheeks feel hotter than lava, and you walk with Boothill out of the bar without much fuss, greeting the mild night cold. The silence that you share isn’t uncomfortable, but there’s more to be said. You know he wants nothing more than to hear a yes from you, which sends your mental equilibrium into dizzying contention.

Something is not right, and it is your fault.

With an audible swallow, you fight the butterflies in your stomach and nudge his side. The raucous song of Mechanic’s Haven harmonizes with the thrumming in your ears. “Hey.”

He turns to look at you, whistling a tune you can’t place.

“I’ll give it some more thought. Don’t get your hopes up, because becoming a fugitive by association seems like a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” you cough.

Boothill beams and it just serves to confuse your internal scale even more. One would think you’re suddenly inorganic with how it feels like you’re short-circuiting. Is this an acute onset of cardiac arrest? Or is it something else you’ve been pushing away for months on end?

He nudges you back. “I knew you’d come around! And the first lesson of being a Galaxy Ranger,” he starts, “is to always get your hopes up.”

Yeah… it’s definitely something else entirely. Something that, in all likelihood, is going to get you into massive trouble. You understand the risks that come with fraternizing with an outlaw, have weighed them heavily against your heart, and have reached only one verdict:

You’ll sleep on it.

(You’ll end up following this cowboy no matter what. Even you, deep down, know that he’s been sticking around the area for way too long, like he’s waiting for something or someone. It just so happened to be you. Dang it all to heck and back.)

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee, @singularity-sam, @harque, @thestarswhisper

[inkykeiji]

hope you don’t stop running to me, cause i’ll always be waiting

character: dabi | todoroki touya - raver!dabi

genre: extremely sentimental fluff + smut with a sprinkle of angst

notes: okay so essentially, this is raver!dabi, but like the piece isn't really focused around that. the piece is about this all encompassing, ravenous love the reader feels for him, and it really borders on unhealthy obsession; it's about how he's the happiest she ever sees him at raves, but it's bittersweet because he's so fucking high, and it kind of contrasts his love for raves and drugs with her love for him | title cred: cinema by benny benassi ft. skrillex and gary go

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, drugs, obsessive unhealthy relationship, extreme codependency, manipulation if u squint, minimal prep, a sprinkle of degradation

words: 6k

synopsis:

And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

There’s nothing he loves more, no where he feels more at home, more at ease, more himself, than at a rave, you’re absolutely sure of it.

He sniffs them out like a hound, manages to find them no matter what city or country he’s in; loves them indiscriminately, regardless of how big or small they are; and drags you to each one he attends. Because he’s addicted to every single thing about them—irrevocably hooked on the pounding music that throbs like a beating heart, the marvelous colours that sear through the venue like vibrant flares of blood, the pretty pills and dazzling tabs and soft, soft powder—it all turns the party into a living entity, breathes life into the crowd, intoxicates him like nothing he’s ever felt before; and he’ll never be able to get enough of them, enough of how they make him feel, how they make him forget.

But he wants you there with him every time.

Sometimes, he’s hauling you into dingy basements full of wispy smoke and blaring speakers, staticky as they thrash out beats over a crowd, atmosphere saturated with sweat and the sickly sweet smell of hard candies. Others, he’s pulling you along on a lush field or cracked concrete tainted with brilliant flashes of crimson and violet, through thousands and thousands of people adorned in spiky fur and holographic latex until he finds the stage he’s looking for.

You don’t mind, though, unbothered by the pulsing music and the glistening crowds. You don’t mind, because this is your only chance to get these fleeting little glimpses of what true, pure happiness looks like on him—and you’re fucking addicted to it.

This weekend it happens to be a two-day-long EDM festival, set up far away from society in a large grassy meadow, embellished with wildflowers that dot the tangled jade strands with pops of pastel pinks and yellows and ivories—and it’s enchanting, whimsical, almost surreal in a sense. You can feel it, the atmosphere that drapes the masses of people scattered across the rolling hills, an energy unlike any other that envelops the patrons and lulls them into a state of soothing bliss.

He loves it. You love him.

And you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to accurately explain what the feeling of accompanying him to a rave is like; you don’t think the words even exist—the essence and aura, the feelings that swirl around in your chest, fuzzy and fluttery and fierce, transcending any and all languages. Because they’re something bigger, something better—they’re something higher, something stronger, something more than any word could ever describe.

No, there’s no way to define it, to portray it, nothing to encapsulate or summarize it, the genuine happiness that encompasses him, the way his pinched and stern features finally, finally relax, a special, gentle type of carefreeness seeping through the permanent mask of trepidation irrevocably sown into his strong face. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing to watch as they morph, the way his lips transform before your very eyes, from a firm, thin line into a loose, easygoing grin, sharp eyes liquefying as his lids droop a little, thin ring of sapphire outlining gaping onyx pupils, voracious in the way they observe, inhale, devour everything, blown and massive from whatever he’s high on—E or coke or acid; possibly a mixture of all three. You aren’t allowed to have any, of course, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because as cheesy and stupid as it sounds, you’re high off of him—off his smell, spicy cinnamon and sweet campfire, laced with just a hint of Marlboros; off his taste, mint and smoke and sugar; off his touch, large hands caressing the natural curves and contours of your body, calloused fingertips rough and ragged as they drag across your soft flesh, skin pebbling with each graze.

It’s intoxicating, the way it invades your senses, overwhelms your receptors and has you yearning for more. It’s dumbfounding, the way your mind goes numb with him, infused with thoughts of DabiDabiDabi as he seeps and soaks and stitches himself into the tissues of your brain.

And you’ve never seen him more content than he is here, high out of his mind and entirely absorbed in the music, embraced in it like it’s a protective blanket, like it’s the arms of an old, treasured friend, like it’s home. Bitter acid creeps up your throat, blends with his saccharine spit ever-present and saturating your tongue, the thought that he’s only truly, genuinely, substantially happy when he’s high off his ass at a festival procuring a muted, blunt ache in the middle of your chest, dull blades that dig and burrow into your beating heart, shoved a little deeper with each bubble of laughter that escapes his lips.

Nevertheless, you can’t ever bring yourself to put an end to it, no matter how much it hurts him, hurts you both, because he looks so lovely, so elated—and you just can’t bear to take that from him, to take that from yourself.

Because he’s so fucking pretty like this, hair undone, careless and free as fluffy tufts of black bounce and sway with his movements, sticking to his temples and his neck—and he almost looks soft like this, strands of onyx hanging in his eyes and curling around his ears. Because happiness looks so good on him, so gorgeous on him, with those bright smiles that span his face, across his cheeks from ear to ear, and those stunning sapphire irises that glow with pleasure, contentment, bliss—and you wish, wish so desperately that you got to see it more often, that you had the chance to experience it without the drugs steadily coursing through his system, that they weren’t necessary, mandatory, in manufacturing these emotions.

But you’ll take what you can get. And he will, too—because you both love watching, both love feeling him this ecstatic, this relaxed, all his anguish and trauma forgotten, those chains that shackle him, that weigh him down and confine him, disintegrated by the synthetic emotions, burnt to ash just for a night or two.

And so, you aid, you help, you enable—because while you’ll take what you can get, you can’t ever get enough, either, eyes wide and unblinking as they place a pretty pink tablet stamped with a heart on his tongue, entranced by the way his lips close around your fingers and suck. And it’s so fucking hot, a rush of warmth flooding between your thighs and furling tightly in your belly. His eyes are shining as he stares at you, stuffed full of so much love it nearly hurts, and you want, you want, you want.

It isn’t long before drug induced euphoria is rushing through his veins and colliding with the constant, steady bass oozing from the speakers, vibrations travelling through the grassy earth beneath him until they reach his feet and flood his body. He tells you he can feel it in his chest, in his heart, in his very soul, seeping into his bloodstream like the sweetest poison, forcing a pleasant buzz through his limbs.

And it’s the best—it’s better than anything he’s ever felt, anything you’ve ever felt, hands roaming across bodies as music pours from the mammoth speakers, tracing soft lines and hard edges, fingers committing them to memory through touch alone; foreheads knocking together as he giggles into your mouth, as you suck his laughter from him and let it bloom in your chest, bright and buzzing and full of him, so full you feel as though you may burst; tongues dragging against one another as you both lick either side of a heart-shaped lollipop, sticky crimson candy sparkling in the waning sunlight, before he pushes his gum into your mouth, endless huffs of amusement spilling from one throat into another as you pass it back and forth—a game of sorts—smiling into the messy, slippery kisses, lips sliding and slurping and sucking.

Colourful beads embellish his arms, slender wrists and sculpted forearms peaking through the gaps, plastic droplets smacking together delicately with his movements. The brilliant colours are vibrant in contrast to his smooth skin, ivory tainted gold by the August sun, to later be painted by the lively splotches of aquamarine and lilac and lime and fuchsia as the lights dance through the night sky, spraying across the crowd.

His body glistens under the setting sun, varnished in a thin layer of sweat, gleaming droplets decorating his skin, catching in the beams and glittering like tiny diamonds. Strands of inky hair cling to his neck and white cotton hugs his torso, outlining the firm muscles of his back, the plains and contours that glide almost gracefully under scarred skin and soft fabric with each of his movements.

He’s a horrible dancer; truly, but he makes you giggle—which makes him giggle, large hands finding your waist and tugging you towards him, forehead bowed to yours again as he stares at you, cavernous pupils flitting from each of your features—your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth—with his lips slightly parted, as if he’s in awe. Tiny thumbs run over his clammy cheekbones, and his eyes close briefly with the motion, body swaying a little as he leans into you, further pressing his forehead into yours. His molars are grinding again, you can feel it, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his jaw under soft, tender palms, and you tsk softly.

“You need another lollipop, Daddy,” you tell him, and although you’re practically shouting over the music, it feels like your whispering, wisps of your adoring voice caressing his skin, curling around him and sopping into his flesh, warming him to the core of his soul. Little fingers are pressing into the hinges of his jaw as you speak, their gentle touch instantly diffusing the tension, and he nods.

The whine that catches in his throat when you pull away is one of the sweetest, most valuable sounds you’ve ever heard, and it makes your chest flutter, eyes flicking up to look at him through your lashes with a beaming smile. He’s still leaning towards you, slowly falling forward, a magnet drawn to magnetite, and you love it, you love it, you love it.  

“You look so fucking cute in your tutu, princess,” he’s chuckling as you root through your tiny bag for more candy. And you can tell he really means it, a dopey smile decorating his face, eyes shimmering with mirth, with drugs, with love.

A giggle slips past your lips, hands smooth down the tufts of tulle adorning your waist as you shyly murmur your thanks, his own smile growing. Lidded sapphires float around your body, slow and belated as they take inventory, words unhurried and sluggish as they tumble from his mouth.

“I-I should…Uh, I should put some sunscreen on my baby, sh-shouldn’t I? Don’t want your shoulders or that pretty face of yers to burn, y’know,”

You really don’t need to—the sun’s sunk halfway below the horizon by now—but you indulge him anyway, would never be able to deny him a fucking thing.

It’s fumbling, clumsy and messy in his inebriated state, but it’s still so cute, so considerate, so caring, rough hands slathering the thick cream across your skin, rubbing in awkward, blundering circles—and it sends sizzling sparks shooting through your bloodstream, alighting your entire body with a blaze that is so specifically him.

The sky turns from coral to navy all at once, and then you’re clasping onto him tightly, hugging your body to his as hands roam, as fingers tangle and tug and tow, as lips latch and lick. Salt mixes with his usual taste, tongue tingling with it as it laps at the dips of his collarbones. The sharp smell of sugar stings your nose, and you inhale deeply, face nuzzling against his damp neck. He smells sweet, like sunshine and burning hickory wood, like a summer breeze grazing freshly washed linen, carrying with it a sprinkle of cinnamon.

And you can’t stop, powerless to your urges and void of all control as you nibble at the column of his throat, as you suck the prettiest galaxies of violet and periwinkle into his flesh, as the tip of your tongue traces the jutting bones at the base of his neck, over and over and over again until they’re saturated in thick layers of your gleaming spit.

Because he’s fucking delicious, and it’s never enough—will never be enough, regardless of if you spend hours kissing, until your lungs are burning and your jaw is aching and your mouths and chins and cheeks are coated in each other’s sticky saliva.

Because you’re fucking greedy, needy, hungry, limitless in how much you desire, more and more and more.  

Because even when he’s pounding into you, it still isn’t ever enough. You want to consume him the way he consumes those pretty little tablets, want to breathe him in and hold him in your chest, in your heart, in your soul, forever. Not all of him, you promise, you swear, you’ll settle with just a piece—just a piece you can carry around everywhere with you, always. It’s the worst addiction you’ve ever suffered, it’s the sweetest heaven you’ve ever felt, it’s the only semblance of home you’ve ever known—you’ll keep chasing that high he gives you forever, keep chasing him as he chases drugs, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

And eventually, eventually it becomes too much to bear, just as it does every single night, this seething desire that roars and rumbles within you, rattling the cage of your ribs as it demands more. Eventually, it has you yanking on his arm, both hands clasped around one of his, shrill begs and pleads beginning to claw their way up your throat.

Strong hands manhandle you against him, a thick thigh slotting between your own, and you whimper, burying your face against his neck. With such a large crowd, and such thunderous music, and so many people higher than the clouds, no one can tell what you’re doing; no one can tell how naughty you’re being.

He knows exactly what you need, exactly what’s got you so restless, pressing his muscled thigh into your core and chuckling at the instant moan it procures.

“Daddy,” you mewl loudly against his ear, curled fingers giving another tug on his t-shirt, cunt already grinding steadily against his thigh. “I need you,”

He snickers, the sound vibrating against you, head tilting curiously and lips molding into a cocky smirk. “You need what, baby?”

And the whine that breaks in your chest is absolutely pathetic, bottom lip jutted out into a deep pout, grinding against his thigh becoming more erratic, more urgent. You hate that he’s gonna make you say it, face crumpled up in adorable irritation—his favourite expression on you, you’re sure, his smirk growing into a grin as a growl rumbles in your chest.

“Your cock,” shimmering eyes, glazed with want that reflects the flashing lights in their glassiness, stare up at him, blinking twice in enticement. “Please?”

He hums in thought as he pretends to think, to consider, as if his leg isn’t pressing further and further into your core as you aimlessly hump it, as if his cock isn’t already hard and pressed up against your hip and throbbing through his jeans, as if he isn’t grinding against you in infinitesimal motions, little gyrations of his hips that almost feel subconscious instead of intentional—as if he can’t help himself.

“Daddy!” you squeal, barely audible over the heavy bass, eyebrows scrunched in the way they always do when you don’t get what you want. “Now!”

Normally, if he wasn’t higher than the full moon hanging in the sky and flickering stars scattered in uneven clusters around it, such a bratty request would’ve earned you a hefty punishment—something that would’ve left your skin raw, cunt abused, and completely unsatisfied—because bad girls don’t get to cum, now, do they?

But tonight it only makes him laugh harder, cooing about how fucking cute you get when you’re all needy like this, like it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever witnessed, cobalt eyes shining with delight and adoration as he laces his fingers through yours, pulling you along behind him as he weaves in and out of the sea of bodies.

But the car’s too far, you’re whining as you trail behind him, a deep pout carved into your face, eyebrows knitted so firmly they weave creases into your forehead. I can’t wait, Daddy, I can’t wait!

And it’s true—you can’t wait any longer, you need him inside of you this very instant or you’ll fucking combust—a deprived addict vying for their favourite vice; a raving, ravenous fire that burns bright and blistering in the pit of your tummy, constantly starved for him.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, this intense, insatiable craving; one that has your thighs clenching so tightly it’s painful, that burns through your veins and scalds the insides of your stomach, that has your blood bubbling and nerves buzzing, whole body feeling electric in his presence.

It’s a gnawing urgency, one that tears at the pit of your belly and roars in your chest, filling your ribcage until it feels like it’s about to burst, until it has you choking on botched gasps of air and his name, nails digging into his hand as you tug on his arm, pleading, begging, needing.

It’s going to devour you from the inside out if you don’t get what you want soon, if it isn’t fed with what it wants soon, expletive filth spilling from your lips in frenzied little huffs as Dabi tries in vain to drag you to the car—please, Daddy, I feel like I’m gonna die, need your cock, Daddy, need it right now, right now, right now, fill me with your cum, Daddy, I’m so empty without it; warm me with your cum, Daddy, please, please, pretty please, I can’t wait!

Such sentiments, woven together between threads of high whines and broken gasps, evoke a dark snarl ripping through his chest, his true persona cutting through the manufactured euphoria for just a moment—and then you see him, you see your Daddy, you see your home, blazing in his glassy eyes as he whirls around on you and crashes his lips to yours, large hands splayed on either side of your face, nimble fingers gripping your head so tightly it hurts.

But the pressure is welcomed, little hands pawing at his thick belt again, pathetic and desirous, and the sheer force has you stumbling backwards, feet catching on your own ankles as the two of you tumble to the ground.

“You are such a fucking brat, y’know that?” he’s nearly moaning between kisses, lips never leaving yours as he spits the words into your mouth, hips snuggling into their favourite spot between your thighs.

“You love it,”

“A spoiled little bitch,”

“Y-Your fault,” you giggle into his mouth, a large palm colliding with your ass half a second later, knocking a yelp from your throat, a pitiful little squeak that he readily swallows down.

Calloused fingers twist in the lace of your panties and he yanks, holes materializing in the delicate fabric, lithe digits hooking through them and unceremoniously jerking the ruined remains down your thighs. It’s graceless, movements inept and cumbersome in his attempt to remove them from your body, stubbornly refusing to break your kiss, hovering body supported by one hand and his knees. The material finally snaps, fingers tearing through it, like fire blazing through intricate spider webs.  A whine catches in your throat and he laughs darkly, tongue lapping at your neck, your jaw, your mouth itself, drenching you in sugar-infused saliva.

Lips part immediately, eagerly, ready to greet his tongue with your own, and he huffs another chuckle into you, breath scorching as it floods the cavern of your mouth, and God, he’s got himself such a good girl, such a good slut, doesn’t he?

The words are mumbled out, slick lips gliding against yours, a little slurred and stuffed full of sticky spit as massive, rough hands run up your thighs, grabbing healthy handfuls of your flesh and squeezing.

A sharp gasp escapes from your throat, hips instinctively bucking against his from the sudden pain, and he laughs, deep and sinister and reverberating against his ribcage.  

You can feel the dull thud of the music in the distance, bass burrowing its way into your chest, pulsating beat slithering through the pliant earth and oozing up through the dirt against your back. Magnificent glows of azure and amethyst blanket the festival in their embrace, bleeding into one another before they morph into and emerald and magenta, haloing the grounds and all of its inhabitants.

But all of those colours, the almost ethereal beauty of the party itself, is nothing compared to the sapphire gazing down at you, the ivory skin that almost glows against the grass and the pines and the night sky, the fluffy onyx tufts your fingers tangle in.

Teeth sink into his plush, scarred bottom lip and you suck harshly, taking it into your mouth, the tip of your tongue toying with it, laving over the supple flesh and dousing it in your saliva. A snarl clatters around in his mouth as he pulls his lip from between yours, teeth scraping against it in the process.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you’re chanting, muffled by his mouth, muddled by his tongue as it aggressively pushes against yours. “Need’a, need’a,”

The words snag in your throat, evaporating into ghosts of the sentences they were supposed to be, fading into pathetically breathy moans.

And it’s hard to think, when you’re like this, when you’re ensnared in him, consumed by his touch and smell and taste, tongue shoved so far down your throat you’re choking on it, brain gone numb—dumb—from it all, incapable of knitting together words and forming a sentence. Instead, your hand snakes between your bodies to cup his cock, a loud moan hitching in his chest as he immediately grinds against your touch.

“Want,” you mumble, groping at him and forcing a whimper from his chest. “Now, now, now,”

“So fucking needy,” he’s teasing, none of his usually heat to his voice, peppered with moans and the sweetest giggles as he rests his forehead against yours. Reaching down, two slender fingers prod your hole, giggles fading into groans as his eyes shut. “Soaked, huh?” he asks, voice strained, your head nodding almost ferociously in response. “Always drenched for me, aren’t you, my babygirl,”

But you’re too impatient to be properly prepped, to be thoroughly stretched out, impetuous legs kicking and squirming from underneath him, whining and pleading for him to just fuck you already!

They’re uncontainable, the words barreling past your lips, high and cracked and rapacious as you beg—beg for him to fill you up, to make you feel whole again, to stretch and shred and slash you to pieces, to put you back together, part by painstaking part, to complete you.

And he’s practically keening at the sentiments, hips rutting ungracefully against your soft palm, cock twitching through the denim of his jeans.

“Alright, baby, alright,” he’s hushing you, words slurred, heavy and unhurried despite his frantic actions. “Daddy’ll give you what’ya need,”

“Wanna ride,” you nearly wail, little fingers clawing desperately at his broad shoulders, fingertips sinking into his flesh through the thin cotton.

“Ch-Christ,” he nearly chokes on the curse, head nodding in choppy movements as he allows you to push the two of you over.

Because, well, baby gets what baby wants.

Or, at least, that’s what he’s telling you as you straddle him, lilt void of its normal derision, replaced with a kind of admiration.

Nails dig into the toned, smooth planes of his chest as you sink down on him, an involuntary hiss escaping gritted teeth, features scrunching in a cute wince. A hitched expletive escapes his throat, lidded eyes falling shut as his head lolls to the side, angular jaw on display.

The stretch is a welcome one, feels like home, so familiar it’s almost comforting, little cunt throbbing as you split yourself open on his cock.

Cool, refreshing air rushes into your lungs the moment he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix, and that ache, that addiction, that animal tethered to the very core of your soul is immediately satiated, immense pressure deflating and the strain on your ribs easing up.

It feels perfect, feels right, feels whole, and suddenly, you’re alive again, intense sparks shocking your system as they sear through your veins, invigorated and revitalized.

It doesn’t last long though—it never does.

Because you’re just as famished, just as voracious, just as avid as that entity birthed from obsession and addiction inside of you, satisfied only for a moment before you need more.

It isn’t slow, isn’t sweet or soft, because neither of you can take that right now, neither of you need that right now. And the very moment he bottoms out, the minute you feel him nudging against your cervix, your hips begin to rock forward, rough hands finding their usual place on your hips, aiding you in your motions as he bucks up, falling into an instantaneous rhythm together

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s panting out, bleary eyes watching you as his words knot on his languid tongue. “Bounce on m’cock, princess, bounce on it,”

The earth is firm beneath your knees, but you can still feel those faint vibrations travelling though the dirt. Blades of grass tangle themselves in inky tufts as his head falls back, neck arching, jade strands in a sea of black.

He’s so much louder when he’s this high, deep guttural groans rumbling in his chest, broken whines catching in his throat, growled out curses tumbling from his saliva slicked lips. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, and you long to lick it up.

“You always look so pretty, s-so perfect taking my cock,” he’s babbling, voice soaked in awe, pupils blown and shimmering as they gobble up your reactions, your expressions—every little sound emitted from your throat, ripped raw and wrecked from the column; every little twitch of your features, the way your lashes flutter and eyes roll back with each roll of his hips; every little shake and shiver and shudder, tiny jolts of electricity, of him, exploding through your veins—calloused hands sliding up and down your thighs in a clumsy caress. “F-Fuck, princess, so gorgeous,”

You should be quiet—really, you should both be quiet, fucking in an open field and committing such a heinous act of public indecency.

But you’re powerless to stop the mewls and cries from prying past your lips, and he’s hopeless to quell the steady stream of words flowing from his own, increasing in pitch and frequency with each gyrate forward, with each rut and rub and grind of your hips.

“Feel good, Da-Daddy?”

And he’ll never understand how you sound so fucking sweet, so fucking precious, as obscene words flow from those pretty lips, punched out of your chest with each rock of your hips, core of your body intimately skewered by him.

He doesn’t answer, can’t answer, words dissolving into a fractured moan as he nods vigorously.

“Want you to cum, D-Daddy—ah—fill me up, please,”

The grin that splits his face is nothing short of spectacular—it’s nothing like those sharp smiles he gives his enemies, or those smug little grins he gifts his friends, or those tiny lopsided smirks that grace his lips when he’s teasing. No, this smile—this smile is only for you; a gentle quirk of his lips, parted just enough to see those gleaming pearly teeth, fluid as it stretches and wobbles with his ragged pants and snapping hips. It’s almost overwhelming, the emotion pouring from that single, simple action alone, has your chest stuttering and eyes blurring, knowing that this is something special, that this is something that is yours and yours alone. And this smile—this smile is genuine, true happiness. This smile cuts through all of the drugs and anguish and rage, shining bright and beautiful as it beams up at you.

And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

You’ll never get used to this, you swear to God. Such amazement will never cease, makes fucking him a religious experience every single time, always so astoundingly exquisite. You’ll never get used to the way those dark growls claw their way up his throat, vibrating in the column. You’ll never get used to the way your name sounds on his tongue when he’s just about to cum, all pitchy and broken and punctured by hitched breaths. You’ll never get used to the way his thick eyelashes flutter, unfocused eyes rolling in his skull just a little—never fully enough to hide that brilliant sapphire from you—right before he stuffs you full of hot sticky seed.

And you never want to.

—

This is your favourite part, has always been your favourite part, will always be your favourite part, every single time. It’s terribly selfish of you—you know it is, know it’s awful and greedy and so, so obsessive—but you love it, love it as much as he loves the drugs and the music and the ostentatious lights.

Because he clings to you when he’s coming down, nuzzles his face into your very touch, practically purrs out his admiration for you as you pat his damp face down with an old t-shirt, brushing back the stringy strands of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead.

Because you’re his protection when he’s coming down, swathing him in your love, in your gentle caresses and your tender venerations—his very own guardian angel, keeping him from plummeting into the concrete and shattering into a million pieces, cradling him in your soft wings as you ease his feet back onto this earth.

Usually it’s scary, he’s telling you that night in the backseat of his car, eyes still glazed, breathing slow and shallow. Or, it was. It was scary, coming down without you—but not anymore. Because you’re here now. You’re here with him, and you take such good care of him, and he loves you, he loves you so much, he loves you more than anything on this planet—or any others.

He used to feel nervous, he’s babbling on as tiny fingers press into tight, coiled muscles, rubbing the tension out of them in small circles. Used to have memories… he trails off then, and you don’t push, never push, just humming your acknowledgement softly, whispered affirmations falling from your lips as palms smooth over his cheeks before caressing his hair, pulling mewls from his throat as he arches into your touch.

Bleary sapphires stare up at you, glittering in the dim light flittering through his car windows from the flickering lamp posts. He’s tired, he tells you suddenly, face somber, sober, but he can’t sleep.

“I know,” you murmur, petting his hair again. “Just try to relax,”

He is trying, he promises, vigorously nodding up at you, eyes wide as if they’re imploring you to understand.

But words keep spilling from his mouth—involuntary, automatic, reflexive—unfocused eyes staring up at the roof, then darting around the car slowly, distractedly, like there’s a million other thoughts surging through his mind—you can see them, swimming in his eyes, tainted with paranoia, with fear, even though there’s a steady stream of presumably unrelated words flowing from his throat.

He talks about anything, everything, nothing—all at once. He tells you about the festival as if you weren’t there, and you let him ramble, unable to stifle the small smile that forms on your lips. Because it’s cute, and he’s still so excited. He tells you how pretty you look, tells you about how good you ride his cock, how irresistible your cunt is, how much he loves stuffing it with his cum.

And throughout it all you nod and hum and coo, just like you always do, just like you always will.

And it’s nights such as these, at four and five in the morning right before the sun begins to creep over the horizon, navy sky fading into a faint amber glow the only indication that it’s coming—that you are careless with your words, that you are more honest than ever before, because you know he won’t remember it—or, if he does, he won’t bring it up until he’s high like this again.

Because his being high provides this limbo, this purgatory for the both of you to be open and raw and vulnerable under the guise of drugs, with the knowledge that you can always backtrack, always claim not to remember or that you said no such thing, if you ever need to.

You don’t ever need to, but the option’s there nonetheless, like a buffer of sorts—a buffer for him to be raw and real, a buffer for you to be less cautious, to be more reckless and let the words stream from your lips without fear of consequence or punishment; a shield for both of you to use against such susceptibility.

It’s become an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a pass. And that’s what makes these nights the best.

And you will always consider yourself one of the lucky ones, one of the privileged few that are allowed, permitted, approved to experience him like this—to watch that well-worn mask of apathy melt from his face as drug-laced happiness bleeds and burns through it.

It hurts, sends sharp spears searing through your chest, embedding themselves in the depths of your fucking soul, because you can only imagine what true happiness would look like on him.

Maybe it would be too much, you want to trick yourself into believing, desperate to find excuses for the drugs and the artificial euphoria, to sanction this type of behaviour. Maybe he would be too beautiful, too bright, too brilliant if he were truly happy—maybe he would burn out too quickly, if he were too happy, like a shooting star that flies across the indigo sky, sparkling and sizzling and stark in it’s stunning, gorgeous and ethereal and much too short lived as it fizzles out into nothing, into darkness and emptiness, only a moment later—gone forever.

And you suppose, if that were to be the case, that you could selfishly accept this fate—if only to keep him here with you for just a little bit longer. You could help him shoulder the crushing weight of that torture, that agony, that suffering that he’s constantly carrying, spine straining under it, if it means that you get to be with him for more, for longer, for eternity. You could handle that, if it means you get to be greedy, if it means that you get to have him, on this earth, living and breathing and beside you.

Still, you hope, very much so, deep down at the bottom of your heart, that he will one day find that true, genuine, sincere happiness that he deserves—and that it will stick, not just for a moment, for a few fleeting seconds, but for a while, for forever.

He’s quiet when you tell him this. He probably won’t remember it come morning, too high to remember much of anything, but he’s so honest when he’s like this, fucked up out of his mind, and words leak from his lips without his permission as he tells you, grave and serious, that he has…in you.

And you suppose…You suppose he’s right; happiness isn’t exactly a person, or a place, or an object—happiness is a sentiment, an experience, a collection of memories, adventures, evocations.

“Happiness is...it’s when I’m with you,”

[reflectionsofneptune]

little things I associate with the Mercury signs.

Little dreamy, abstract things I associate with the Mercury signs in Astrology.

Aries Mercury

Authoritative. When I want something, I make it clear. Crystal clear. No beating around the bush. A forceful way of speaking. Don’t talk about it, be about it. Short sentences. A hint of arrogance. Competitive edge seeping through my words. What can I say, I like to be a winner? At all times. A raspy voice. Adopting a youthful charm when it suits me. Attuned to perceiving danger in my environment. Disliking an over-emphasis of niceties in conversation. Keeping it real. Exercising to clear the mind. Pep - talks. The rev of an engine. Pedal to the metal. Talking to me, I need you to bring your A Game and something new. Conversation needs to be stimulating. 

Taurus Mercury

Savouring. Words need to be savoured. Like beauty, they only get better with age. Listen carefully and hear what I stand for. Slowing down. Something about the handwriting. Cursive. An even tone. Words flow out of my mouth like maple syrup oozes down the height of a stack of fluffy, warm pancakes. Stubbornness. When am I ever wrong? Pictures, or it’s not real. Proof being recognised from what my base senses pick up. Inspiration from nature. A level-head. Choosing to see the beauty in my environment. For better or for worse. Don’t be fooled by my lack of conversation, I peep everything. 

Gemini Mercury

Riddles. I’m not going to tell you the answer but the curve of my lip might reveal itself when you’re getting close. Starting one conversation with one subject. Finishing the conversation with a completely different one. Playfulness. Humour as a tool of deflection. Quick texts. Leading conversations. Making a best friend in the supermarket. Another one, on the bus.  Seeing the duality of things in my environment. Information is like crack. I can’t get enough. Multiple tabs, open. Nervous energy. Fiddling. Mimicking your mannerisms if I like you, verbally ripping you apart if it tickles my fancy. Or not, I get distracted quite easily so you may be let off the hook.

Cancer Mercury

Introspective. Thinking about the past. Sometimes not finding my way back to the present. Emotions filtering through my words. Perceptions are protective. A vintage film, the introduction devoid of colour. An interest in knowing where one comes from, what comforts someone. Needing to cleanse myself of everybody’s emotional baggage. Again. Pathetic fallacy. Finishing your sentences. Promise its not on purpose. Wanting security from my environment. A psychological slant to conversations. A rich inner imagination. A diary, signed, sealed and under my pillow. Withdrawing into the cocoon of my thoughts when I feel threatened. 

Leo Mercury 

Commanding. A leadership position sounds good to me. Confidence in my thoughts. Words that can brighten up your life. Disney movies. Teasing conversations. Class clown. My thoughts are copyrighted. Bluffing. The curve a chest, puffed out to its maximum, makes. Talking loudly so I’m sure you hear me. Describing something in such detail, so you can feel as if you were there. Piping hot tea. Intellect and ego tied together.  Creativity expressed through speech. Seeing my immediate environment as a stage. Conversations in the mirror. The little grooves formed at the corner of the eyes when the smile is genuine. Blowing my own trumpet because if I don’t, who will?

Virgo Mercury

Organised. Seeing flaws in my environment. A to-do list, covered on both sides. Polite but not foolish. The spine of a book, crease free. Stepping back in conversation. The few creases that appear on the skin when a nose is wrinkled. Monotone. Advice given freely. Or withdrawing all help if I see it going through one ear and out the other. Discernment in conversation. Sticky notes. Attuned to see the bullshit in conversation. In life. Helpful suggestions. Take it or leave it. Mind feels like a hamster wheel. How do you turn this thing off?  An upward line of a tick, in red. Not an excuse, but know that the harder I am on you, the harder I am on myself really. 

Libra Mercury

Flirting. Feels as natural as breathing does. A sweet talker. The stem of cherry. A gentle lilt that comes alive in conversation. A fickle mind. Forever weighing up the pro’s and cons. Birdsong, cutting through morning dew. Wanting peace from my environment. Trying to maintain peace in my environment. A white flag fluttering in the wind, atop a hill. Indecision feels paralysing. Waiting for you to finish speaking before I provide an opposing point of view. Feigning innocence. Learning about myself through conversations with others. Sometimes not liking what I see. 3 sides to a story. I am capable of a decision, I just feel better when the internal scales of my thoughts are balanced. 

Scorpio Mercury

Power. Power plays in conversation. Checkmate. Words are comparable to pieces on a chessboard. Not a fan of small talk. Unless it’s for my benefit. Intuition on point. And then some. Probing. Trust issues. Talking to someone for a minute but deducing years of their life from a single meeting. Burner phones in a drawer. The eerie silence that comes around, say 4 AM. Secrets, mine and yours, help me fall asleep at night. Receipts for weeks, days and months. I’ve got it all. Past hurts cut deep in my psyche. Eyebrows pulled together. Pretending to be deaf when convenient. Subject changes. A full stop. Knowledge is power. I am capable of sharing intimate details of myself…..you first though. 

Sagittarius Mercury

YOLO. Sending those kinda texts to the wrong group chat by mistake. Saying what we were all thinking, even if it’s not the ‘right’ time, ‘cos fuck it. Slidin’ in the DM’s. Popping up like it’s nothing. You know me. Is time even real? The underside of a desk, covered with tags, love notes, and condom wrappers. Going off on social media. For a good cause, most of the time. Falling back on spirituality when life gets tough. Thought patterns are expansive and influenced by cultures and theories different than mine. Appreciating the differences in life. In people. Gift of the gab. That person who’s laughing when no one else is. Believing in abundance because that's what my environment reflects back to me. Stretching the fine line between truth and fantasy…….’cos fuck it.

Capricorn Mercury

Blue ticks. Time is of the essence. Thoughts are disciplined. A 3 tier desk organiser, stuffed to the brim with documents. Elocution lessons. Did you know I used to stutter? Deadpan jokes. A raised eyebrow. Judging people. We all do it, it’s innate to us. Keep your friends close. Enemies closer. Voicemail. I don’t need people to like me, but respect me is all I ask. A calculating mind. Always planning ahead. Sudoku puzzles. People give themselves away all the time, you just need to listen. Believing people’s actions over words. Thoughts focused on external recognition became a burden I often didn’t ask for, weighs me down.

Aquarius Mercury

Observant. Seeing the subtle layers that make up human behaviour. People are fascinating. A 360 way of looking at things. Reverb on an electric guitar. Solution-focused. A finger on the pulse of undiscovered knowledge. Static from a radio dial. I’m not afraid to question everything. An outdated statue, tipped. A love and hate relationship with time. Flashes of intuition. Needing time to process thoughts. A cool perspective. Shades of sunglasses, tinted yellow. Including people I’ve never met in my thoughts. In my dreams. My wishes. A Brave New World? I’m still waiting for people to step up and take responsibility.

Pisces Mercury

The red and white swirls of a helter-skelter ride. The path connecting my thoughts and my words is a little beaten. But not many people have bothered to venture this way. Pillow talk during the day. Drifting off in conversation. Overspilling in conversations. Or people, overspilling details of their life onto me. Missing appointments. Two circles merging into one if you stare long enough. Tapped into Source. Weaving you a dream with my words so good, I start to believe it. The afterword in a novel. Doodles in a margin. Sensitivity in conversation. Picking up a million and one signals from my environment. Using music to lose myself and ironically, find myself in the end.

————

| little thoughts about venus placements

| little thoughts about the mars placements

| little thoughts about the saturn placements

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (7/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,244

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VII.

—

Jamie swiped up on the tablet to throw the video to the feed at the centre of the table.

"Rebecca, this is everyone," Jamie said. "Everyone, this is Rebecca."

"I thought that maybe you'd been making up your Jedi friends this whole time. Nice to see I was wrong about that." Rebecca gave a little wave. "Hi, Dani. How's the ghost?"

Dani sank down a little in her seat, and her answering smile was more of a grimace. "Hi. Sorry," she mumbled.

"Yeah, about that," said Jamie. “Back on Quint’s ship, you said you knew what was happening at House Thul.”

“Oh? Finally ready to listen to me, are you?”

“Don’t push me,” Jamie growled, jabbing the tip of her finger at Rebecca’s face on the screen. “Remember. Galaxy’s Biggest Favour.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. She had taken the call with her back to a wall, so it was impossible to glean her surroundings. "The Empire wants a foothold on Alderaan. It's a strategic location in the Core Worlds. They have been working over Lord Wingrave after the death of his brother and sister-in-law, helping him fabricate claims to the House, claims to his niece and nephew, claims to a position in the Republic Senate. You know the drill. Traditional blackmail."

"What else?" Jamie pressed.

For a moment Rebecca glanced over the top of the camera as if looking at something else out of frame, but then her attention returned back to the screen. "The children are Force Sensitives. The Sith have been helping Lord Wingrave keep that under wraps, so that The Order wouldn't take them away to the Temple for training. My sources tell me that the plan was for a Sith Lord to create sleeper agents out of the children through the use of some ancient Sith device containing a ghost."

"Which Sith?" Hannah asked.

"I'm not in the business of keeping tabs on Sith Lords. By the way," Rebecca pointed through the screen at Hannah. "How have you found shaving your head? Because I've been thinking of cutting my hair back, but I’m not sure about going all the way."

Running a hand along her shaved scalp, Hannah said, "There's nothing quite so freeing."

"Good to know. Thanks.” 

"Oi," Jamie snapped her fingers. "Focus. The Sith Lord."

"What else is there to say?" Rebecca replied dryly. "They're a Sith Lord. They're scary. They're dangerous. They're not to be fucked with. Your Jedi friends probably know the drill better than me."

"I hope not," Owen said under his breath as he took a sip of tea.

Hannah sat up a little straighter, hands clasped neatly on the table before her. "Do we know where they are? Where they're going, perhaps? Any information you give us may be vital."

Leaning her back against the wall behind her, Rebecca pursed her lips in thought before answering with a shake of her head. "I know they want the children, and I know they want the holocron. So - Alderaan."

"But the holocron isn't on Alderaan," Dani pointed out.

"They don't know that," said Rebecca. "Peter lied to buy himself time, and told them it was still in the estate of House Thul."

"But -" Dani frowned. "House Thul has its own militia of guardsmen. I know Sith are powerful but the Empire would need to send troops if they wanted to break in and hold ground."

"Then I guess the Sith Lord will be invading with troops as well."

Sighing deeply, Jamie lowered her face to her hands, letting her fingers scrub through her hair. Then she looked up again, hands hooked behind her neck. "Right. Guess we're off to Alderaan, then."

Rebecca laughed. When nobody else joined in, she stopped. "Wait. You're serious? Did you not just hear me say 'Most likely a Sith Lord is going to invade House Thul?' As in — with a shock legion. As in over a thousand soldiers led by a malevolent Force User, who can and would probably kill a room with a snap of their fingers?” 

Lowering her hands, Jamie said, "Yeah, you - uh - you mentioned that. Good thing you'll be right there with us."

"You have got to be joking."

Jamie said nothing. Just gave Rebecca a long look.

"Jamie," said Rebecca, her expression horrified, "You can't be serious. When I said 'favour' I didn't mean 'suicide.'"

"We can’t let them have those kids. Trying to mobilise Republic troops or The Order without enough evidence is a fuckin’ waste of time. We need to get into the estate of House Thul," Jamie gestured around to everyone at the table. "You're a smuggler. So, smuggle us in."

Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alderaan is Republic territory. Why do you need me to smuggle you onto the planet, when you can just fly and land there yourself?"

"Because of her." Jamie gestured towards Dani, who looked both startled at being mentioned and guilty. "I don't want Pasha and his Troopers linking Dani to this in any way. They can't know she returned to House Thul. She has to come out of this squeaky clean."

Groaning, Rebecca said, "Fine. When do you want to go?"

"As soon as possible," said Owen.

"I'm -" Rebecca looked over the top of the camera again, craning her neck slightly. "Thirty two hours from Alderaan through hyperspace. Meet me in orbit around the planet. How's the ship I gave you?"

"Rude," Jamie said blandly. "It keeps insulting me."

A smile tugged at the corner of Rebecca's mouth and she began tapping at the buttons below her screen. "That sounds like Jane."

Jamie's face screwed up. "Jane? It has a name?"

"It's a JN class droid uploaded into the ship’s mainframe. It likes being called Jane. Didn't you ask it?"

"No?"

"Well, no wonder it's rude to you. By the way, I’ve just dropped you those pictures of my godson that you asked for last time. They should be appearing on your device now.” Rebecca waved with a little flutter of her fingers. “See you in thirty two hours.”

The video feed winked out. 

"I rather like that young woman," Hannah said.

“Get in line,” Jamie grumbled. 

The video had been replaced by a file icon. Jamie clicked it and brought up the first photo of Rebecca carrying a blue-skinned Twi’lek child on her back, both wearing big beaming smiles. 

“Oh, they’re adorable,” Owen sighed. 

Fuming, Jamie flicked to the next photo, which was equally adorable. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah. They are.”

—

After cleaning up in the dining room and kitchen, Hannah gently nudged Jamie's arm and indicated she should follow her. Jamie glanced over at Dani, but she was engaged in a lively conversation with Owen while they dried dishes together. Dani's smile had lost its tentative edge the longer Owen spoke to her, but there was still a tenseness to the way she held her shoulders, the same tenseness that had been present back in Ho'kyn's bar on Telos IV, as though she were afraid someone would batter down the door at any moment.

Jamie followed Hannah, who led her up a set of stairs to a mezzanine floor where the walls were floor to ceiling scrolls and books and objects of cultural curiosity.

"Find anything new?" Jamie asked. She leaned back against the railing of the mezzanine which overlooked the lounge below.

Hannah plucked a tome from its shelf, dusted it off, and opened it to a page that had already been marked with a length of ribbon. "Yes and no. Nothing helpful, anyway."

She came to stand beside Jamie so that she might also look at the book. Jamie peered at it from the corner of her eye, not recognising the script around the drawing of a grey-skinned woman in dark red robes with a deep cowl.

"That a Sith?" Jamie asked.

Hannah hummed a curious note. "A Witch of Dathomir. Dark-aligned, for the most part, but not Imperial. They're the only practitioners of possession I've been able to find record of at all. I believe The Lady might have been an early precursor. Or perhaps they developed similar techniques independently."

Jamie stood straighter, hands tightening around the railing. "Wait, so - you can reverse it?"

Hannah snapped the book shut. "No. Though a visit to Dathomir might be in order, should we survive. However, if you chose to go, I won't be accompanying you. They dislike Jedi as much as they dislike Sith."

"Good thing I'm not a Jedi."

"I doubt they'll see the difference," Hannah said, and she tucked the book beneath one arm. "Failing that, the only other people who might know anything about this ghost are the Sith themselves."

Jamie scoffed, smiling. "Right. I'll just sail into their capital on Dromund Kaas and ask for help, then. Great advice."

A flick of the Force against Jamie's ear made her wince.

"Don't be cheeky," said Hannah.

Rubbing at her ear, Jamie opened her mouth to retort but stopped. Beneath them Dani and Owen walked into the lounge, still talking. Dani moved her hands when she spoke, and Owen watched her with a fond if guarded smile.

"I am afraid for her," Hannah murmured so that they would not be overheard.

Jamie nodded. "Yeah."

"For someone like our lovely Miss Clayton, the Dark Side is not a lure so much as it is a glue trap," Hannah mused aloud. "It has a gravity of its own, the darkness. And once there, it becomes more and more difficult to claw your way free. Even if you want to. Even if you know you should, but can’t bring yourself to try. Fear is her failing. And fear is the relinquishment of logic."

Jamie glanced at Hannah. "Can you teach her when this is all over? You're the best of the best in The Order when it comes to balance in the Force."

Without looking at Jamie, Hannah lightly smacked her arm, just a dismissive tap with the back of one hand. "Don't try your flattery on me. I've known you too long for that nonsense."

"That nonsense," said Jamie, "has gotten me out of more sticky situations than you know."

"But it won't get Miss Clayton out of this one."

Muttering a curse under her breath, Jamie sank down a bit, gripping the railing as she did so until she stood bent over and leaning against it. "Don't you start, too. I had Owen in my ear last night about it."

"Good man," Hannah murmured appreciatively.

"Bloody hypocrites. The both of you."

"You can't solve everything with your curmudgeonly charm," said Hannah.

"I fuckin' can."

"Sometimes," Hannah turned, leaning her back against the railing, arms crossed over the book gripped loosely to her chest, "a helping hand can only do so much. A person needs to want to help themself."

Jamie scowled. "So, what? If we can't help her we just ship her off to the Empire? 'Here, have a new Sith apprentice?' You haven't even given her a chance, and you two are already lecturing me on how I need to let go." She shook her head with a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."

And of course Hannah remained infuriatingly unflappable, her voice calm when she replied, "I will do everything I can, as I know Owen will, too. But — even should we survive this ordeal — our time with her will be limited. She will not be safe on Tython, where some overzealous Knight will surely sense her presence and jump to conclusions."

Jamie's mouth went dry. She swallowed. "Then where am I supposed to take her for training?"

Hannah smiled and placed a warm hand on Jamie's forearm. "Wherever you want, dear. So long as you're there."

Face screwing up in confusion, Jamie straightened. "But you just - You were just telling me how I needed to keep my distance and all that shite."

"Was I?" Hannah murmured, and she let go of Jamie's arm to instead toy at a gold earring. "I don't recall saying that at all."

And with that she crossed back over to place the book on its shelf.

"What do you mean? Hannah?" said Jamie, turning around.

Humming to herself as if she hadn't heard, Hannah drifted off down the stairs.

"Hannah," Jamie repeated, louder this time.

"We really must pack, Owen," said Hannah, ignoring Jamie completely.

Hitting her fist against the railing, Jamie turned back around to glower down at Hannah, who appeared on the floor below. Hannah urged Owen down a hallway with instructions to pack for the trip, leaving Dani standing in the middle of the lounge, alone. Dani looked up, and Jamie's fist loosened.

The last time Jamie had seen her from this angle, Dani had been in the full thrall of The Lady back on the luxury cruiser, her red-gold gaze piercing through a camera in the ceiling. Now, Dani blinked up at her with none of that cold malice to be found. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Hannah's voice called down the hallway.

"Miss Clayton, what's the weather like at House Thul?"

Dani turned and began walking towards the sound, already answering Hannah's question, and leaving Jamie staring after her from the mezzanine floor, lost.

—

The gangway automatically lowered to the ground when Jamie got within a certain distance from the luxury cruiser still docked where they had left it.

"Good afternoon, Bollocks," said the cultured male baritone of the ship's computer. "You've brought guests."

Beside her, Owen mouthed the word 'bollocks?' at Hannah, who looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Jamie rolled her eyes and shooed the two of them up the gangway, trailed by Dani. "I have, yeah. Anything interesting happen while we were away, Jane?"

There followed a pause that was slightly too long for a droid of this calibre, and then the ship's computer replied, "Nothing of note. I did not tell you to call me that."

"Oh? Don't like it? Should I call you bawbag instead?"

Another pause, this one affronted. "Jane," said the ship's computer, "is perfectly serviceable."

"Glad to hear it, mate," Jamie drawled and stepped into the ship proper.

As Dani stepped up behind her, the ship's computer said, "And a good day to you, too, Miss Clayton. You're looking very alive today."

"Uh -" said Dani, and she ducked her head sheepishly. "Thanks."

The gangway lifted and sealed behind them once everyone had entered the main atrium, where the ship’s computer had already sent out a small service droid on trundlers bearing glasses of some kind of pale carbonated alcohol. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Owen murmured, picking up a glass and taking a sip. He made an appreciative noise. 

“Where would we like to go?” the ship’s computer asked.

Jamie waved the service droid away when it tried to press an insistent drink into her hand. “No, thanks. Jane, calculate a route to Alderaan. We need to meet someone in orbit around the planet in thirty two hours.”

“Route calculated,” the ship’s computer replied almost immediately. “The journey is only expected to take twenty one hours through hyperspace. I will chart a circuitous route so that we arrive on time. If it would please you, you may make your way to the dining lounge. I have prepared a light lunch before we depart.” 

Frowning, Jamie looked up at the ceiling. “How the hell did you even know we were coming?”

“I have access to the station’s security cameras and systems.”

That gave everyone pause. Owen froze in the act of draining his glass, while Hannah and Dani shared looks. 

“You hacked the station’s security system?” Jamie said.

“Negative, Bollocks,” said the ship’s computer. “I asked the mainframe for access very nicely.” 

“Are you lying?” Jamie turned to Hannah and Dani. “Can droids lie?”

The ship’s computer did not answer. Which wasn’t concerning. Not at all. Owen suddenly looked a bit queasy, and he gingerly lowered his near empty glass back onto the tray held out by the service droid. 

“You need not fear for the condition of food and drink aboard this vessel,” said the ship’s computer. “I am programmed to care for and protect any legitimate member of this crew as designated by the Captain and owner.” 

Jamie pointed jokingly at Owen and said, “Better watch yourself, then.”

Placing a hand over his chest, Owen pretended to look insulted, then followed Jamie further into the ship towards the dining lounge. 

“May I ask,” started the ship’s computer, “what are we going to be doing on Alderaan?’

Jamie dragged her hand along one of the polished white walls as she walked. “Getting in over our heads.”

“Please clarify.”

“We’re going to have a fight. Why?” Jamie asked dryly. “Do you also happen to have ion cannons strapped to your shiny exterior?”

“Negative. But I do come equipped with some accessories the crew might find useful in the event of a boarding attempt.”

One of the panels beneath Jamie’s hand pressed inwards, and a whole section of the wall peeled back to reveal racks upon racks of blaster pistols, blaster rifles, grenades, vibroweapons with wickedly curved blades some small enough to strap to the leg, others long enough to be wielded with two hands. Everything that would make a Republic Trooper get all hot and bothered.   

All four of them stopped in their tracks and stared. 

“Definitely an ex-Czerka ship,” Hannah muttered under her breath.

Hand on the hilt of the lightsabre at her hip, Dani said, “I think I’ll stick with this. I’d be more likely to shoot my own foot.”

“Likewise,” said Owen. 

Meanwhile Jamie reached out and hefted a blaster pistol. She turned it over in her hands for closer inspection, careful not to graze anyone with the barrel, but all defining marks or serial numbers had been either scrubbed off or hadn’t made it far enough in manufacturing to be stamped in the first place. With a shrug, she took one of the holsters and belted it around her waist. 

Owen gave her a look. “Really?” 

“What?” Jamie holstered the blaster pistol and waved at the other three. “You all have lightsabres, and we’re going up against who only knows what. Am I supposed to just hide behind a pillar while you lot do all the fun stuff?” 

Before they could answer, the ship’s computer chimed and said from its hidden speakers in the ceiling. “Not to interrupt,” said Jane, “but the tea is getting cold.”

Immediately Owen’s eyes brightened. “Oh, tea?” 

It was in fact high tea. Three tiered platters. Fine bone china. Petit fours. The whole lot. They amused themselves in the various lounges and quarters of the ship for hours before departure, at which point the ship’s computer insisted upon harnesses being secured. The jump to hyperspace left Jamie feeling on edge, as though she had left her stomach behind on Tython. And she couldn’t have been the only one. Their talk had been too forced, their laughter too loud, Owen and Jamie swapping stories to the delight of Dani and Hannah, who would chime in every now and then. And when Jane rolled out a more formal dinner, it felt like some kind of last meal before execution at dawn by firing squad. 

Jamie couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy the meal. Every bite tasted like ash. The ship’s computer on the other hand seemed thrilled that its crew was finally taking part in its carefully scheduled meals and activities. More than once Jamie thought she heard a low-pitched contented hum from the belly of the ship. Or perhaps that was simply the engine room. 

Eventually, Jamie made her excuses and left the others to their own devices. Jamie walked into the same bedroom she had taken during the initial trip on this vessel. First one on the left from the main lounge. There were at least four other rooms of generally equal size and accommodation on the ship; Jamie had simply picked this one because it was closest to the helm, easy to access and nothing more. 

Jamie sighed and stopped in the middle of the room. She unslung the holster and pistol, dropping it to the ground, then began to unbutton the crisp white shirt she had stolen from the medbay. Back on Tython, Hannah had offered her a spare set of robes, which she’d declined. Jamie hadn’t worn robes since she was a padawan, and after years of boilersuits and undershirts, she wasn’t about to start again any time soon, thanks. Even if it meant dumb slacks and collared shirts made of some anti-wrinkle fabric that cost more than her apartment back on Telos IV. 

She just needed to make it one more day. Just one more day. The last few weeks had shaved off a good few years from her life. Probably. And by this time tomorrow this whole ordeal would be over, alive or dead. Probably. 

There was a knock at the door. With a frown, Jamie turned, hands paused in the act of unbuttoning the shirt halfway down her stomach. “Yeah?” 

The door hissed open and shut again behind Dani as she stepped into the room. “Hi.”

Jamie blinked. “Hey.” 

For a long moment Dani did and said nothing. Her mismatched gaze flicked down to the narrow v of skin and the dogtags revealed by the open shirt, only to dart quickly away again, studying the bedside table with a fixed intensity it did not deserve. 

“Sorry,” said Dani. “I just - It's been a few days since we’d really spoken, and I wanted to check in.”

Jamie nodded. “Ah - yeah. I’m good. Are you -?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” 

Another lengthy pause.

Dani gestured to the door behind her. “Hannah and Owen are very nice.” 

“They are, yeah. Good people. Trust ‘em with my life, and I don’t say that lightly.” Jamie tried to smile, to make light, but Dani had turned that wide-eyed fixed intensity upon her now. It was difficult not to squirm in place when Dani looked at her like that.

Dani took an abortive step forward, only to stop herself before she could venture too close. “Are we okay? It’s just - on Tython you seemed to want your own space, and I thought -” She paused to clear her throat, glancing briefly down at her feet. “Did I mess this up or -? I mean - I know I’m not the best option for anyone, and you deserve someone nice, someone who’s not completely messed up or possessed by an ancient Sith ghost or something. But I -” she paused to close her eyes and draw in a deep breath. “I really like you. And if you don’t want anything to do with me after this is all over, I would completely understand, but I -”

Jamie tried. She really did. But the next thing she knew, she had taken a step forward and pulled Dani in for a kiss. Dani made a small noise of surprise in the back of her throat that Jamie chased after, feeling her respond in kind, feeling the Force welling up beneath Dani’s skin like a hand reaching out in offering. 

“Do you think -” Jamie said, pulling away just enough to speak, “- that I did all this because I don’t like you?”

Dani gave a breathless little laugh, her hands cupping Jamie’s jaw then sliding to cradle the back of her head. “I thought you did it because you’re good and noble and you’re drawn to a lost cause.”

“Can be lots of things, can’t I?”

They were close enough that Jamie could feel the pull of Dani’s smile against her own lips, their noses brushing. 

“I know you like your life to be boring. So, I was thinking," said Dani, "how nice Corsin must be at this time of year. Just a getaway planet in the middle of nowhere. No Sith. No Jedi. That could be boring, couldn't it?"

Jamie swayed forward, eyes half lidded, and murmured, "Could be awfully boring."

Hannah and Owen be damned. The little voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea be damned. Dani was kissing her again and every thought flew right out of her head until there was nothing but this. Nothing but today, this moment, the call of blood in her veins, life as it was and nothing else. 

There was not push towards the bed, no drive to action beyond this. Still Jamie paused, one hand remaining anchored at Dani’s waist.

“You can still go alone,” Jamie said, “if you want. Doesn’t have to be with me.”

Even as she said it, Jamie dreaded the answer. Knowing Dani’s predilection towards shrinking away from things that were too difficult to face alone. Knowing her own history of always being the odd one out, passed from place to place, from Corps to Corps, unfettered, unwanted. 

Dani’s hand tightened in her hair, holding her close. “Want it to be with you.”

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani kissed her again. Want this, too.

Removing Dani’s cloak and tossing it onto the floor beside the blaster pistol had never felt so easy. Kissing her, unhooking the lightsabre and setting it onto the table had never felt so easy. Unzipping Dani’s vest while Dani finished unbuttoning what Jamie had started had never felt so easy. Being with someone else had never felt so easy. 

Jamie’s shirt was discarded onto the ground beside the bed just as Jamie sank to her knees there. Dani’s hair was mussed, her mouth parted, her eyes fixed and unblinking as Jamie began to slowly drag down the zipper of her trousers. She toyed with the chain of Jamie’s dogtags, winding it around her fingers at the back of Jamie’s neck. 

When Jamie began to tug down the material, Dani sat on the edge of the mattress so her pants could be peeled off and placed aside. Jamie leaned forward and stroked her tongue along the soft skin of Dani’s inner thigh, feeling a hand grip her hair when she bit down gently, and making a low dark sound in the back of her throat. 

Already Dani was moving her hips in small motions and Jamie hadn’t even started yet. Jamie laughed softly.

“What?” Dani breathed.

Jamie shook her head, but the movement was restricted somewhat by the tight grip Dani had on her hair. “Nothing,” she murmured and bowed forward to place her open mouth against slick wet and wanting heat.

Wanting nothing but this. The spread of Dani’s legs on either side of Jamie’s head. The taste of her when Jamie swiped her tongue in long slow strokes. The sound of her name gasped in Dani’s voice. The ache between her own legs as Dani rocked her hips to the rhythm Jamie set with a barely restrained urgency. 

Where last time had been fast and hard, Jamie did the opposite now. She traced Dani with the tip of her tongue as if trying to map her to memory, finding the best reactions and storing them away for later, for a time again with her that may never come. One of Dani’s heels came up to press into the small of Jamie’s back, and Jamie could feel the way the muscle of Dani’s inner thigh trembled against the side of her face. The same way her fingers trembled as they combed back Jamie’s hair. 

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani’s groan ended on a broken noise, as Dani’s hips arched up to press more firmly against her mouth while Jamie offered only a gentle suction. Want her. Want us. 

Dani hauled Jamie up by the chain around her neck to kiss her deeply. The kiss was slick and messy and tasted of her, and when they parted Dani was panting. 

“Did I mention,” Dani said breathlessly, “that I really like you?”

Jamie laughed and allowed herself to be pulled up onto the bed. Smiling broadly, Dani kissed her and rolled her over to start unbuttoning Jamie’s dark-washed slacks. Before she could do more than flick open the first of two buttons, Jamie placed her hands and Dani’s hips and encouraged her to rock against her thigh.

“That’s -” Dani swallowed back a reckless sound, her eyes squeezing shut. “I’m going to ruin your nice slacks.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Dani’s answering laugh was breathless. “Do you mean that literally, or -?”

The question died on her tongue when Jamie pressed her knee up and wedged a hand between them just enough that she could brush her thumb just so. She watched as Dani’s face screwed up, as her mouth dropped open and her hips bucked out of time until she came again — smaller this time, but no less gratifying.

Dani slowed to a halt, trying to catch her breath. “All right,” she said. “It’s definitely your turn.”

When they’d finished, Jamie sank bonelessly back onto the mattress. Their clothes were strewn all about the room, and the ship’s computer had set the lights to dim automatically to match a normalised sleep cycle, so that the ceiling was a map of constellations. Dani was stark naked and wiping her hands clean on a shirt with a self-satisfied expression before she crawled back up the bed and snuggled into Jamie’s side.

Jamie rolled onto her side and draped an arm across Dani’s waist to hold her loosely there. She needed to take a shower, but couldn’t find the energy within herself to get up. Not when recent sex had turned her bones to jelly, and not when Dani started to trace the curving lines of Jamie’s monochromatic tattoo. 

Exhaling slowly, Jamie sank further into the mattress. Her eyes slipped shut and she allowed herself this moment of brief respite. 

“Do you ever think,” Dani asked softly, “this was supposed to happen?” 

Blearily, Jamie opened her eyes, lulled half asleep by the way Dani was touching her. “What d’you mean?”

Dani shook her head, admiring the way her fingertips drifted across the pattern of ink on Jamie’s bare shoulder. “I don’t know. I just - When I chose the ship to Telos IV, it wasn’t the fastest or the cheapest or even the one leaving the soonest. I was still in shock, I think. From what had happened on Vurdon Ka. There was another transport leaving three hours earlier, heading towards the Outer Rim, but when the droid asked me what ticket I wanted I bought the one to Telos instead.” Her words slowed to a mumble, and her caress stopped. Dani stared at the flowers on Jamie’s skin as if in wonder. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Coincidence?” Jamie offered, watching the flicker of Dani’s brow in response.

Dani seemed to be trying to remember something intently. “Maybe, but it was so strange. I had this - this feeling. And when I landed on Telos, you know, I -” She broke off with a small incredulous laugh. “I walked straight to that bar. Just - straight there. Didn’t even ask for directions.”

Jamie blinked, more awake now. That hum of energy had returned, threading between them like an arc. Dani’s presence was stalwart, nothing wavering or questioning about it. 

“I don’t know anything about the Force,” Dani continued, “but I’m glad to have met you.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of Jamie’s mouth. It was brief but the warmth pooling in her chest was verdant and budding. “Yeah. Me too.”

—

Rebecca’s ship dropped out of hyperspace only three kilometers from the luxury cruiser, so that the two vessels drifted in orbit around Alderaan side by side. The planet below was a vast curved horizon of blues and greens, struck through with white cloud. Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Jamie noticed how Dani’s gaze kept drifting towards the broad windows of the left wing, staring out at the planet below with her shoulders tense and her hands clasped behind her back. 

The moment Rebecca’s ship came into view, Owen leaned over Jamie’s shoulder and hit the comm button, requesting a transmission, which was immediately picked up.

“Hello again,” Owen greeted jovially down the line. “We see you’ve just arrived in orbit. And might I say - your ship is exactly what I expected from a smuggler.”

“Aww, thanks,” said Rebecca, her video feed flickering into view. “I worked hard to get it just right.”

Rebecca’s ship was a single bladed shape of stark grey material, like a shark’s fin parting the surface of water. Jamie knew from experience that its small size could mislead larger ships into underestimating its speed and firepower. She also knew from experience that the sleeping cots were cramped and uncomfortable, and that more often than not Rebecca slept in a hammock strung up in the cockpit itself. 

Jamie elbowed Owen in the gut so she could have more room. “Status report?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “What are you? Fleet Commander Taylor?”

“Just tell me how we’re getting down to the surface without being noticed,” Jamie said.

“Funny you should ask that,” Rebecca replied, trailing off.

Owen made a face. “Oh, no. Is it bad?” 

“Well…”

“Get it over with,” groaned Jamie. She could hear Hannah and Dani walking closer to join the conversation. “Put me out of my misery.”

Rebecca hit a few buttons to switch over the feed, and the screen suddenly displayed a scene much nearer to the surface. She must have hacked into a few security cameras, because the view turned slowly alongside her tapping away in the background. A towering estate in slate greys with parapets like speartips jutting into the sky dominated the screen, flanked by snowy mountains. A broad bridge led to the front entrance, and a hundred or so guardsmen had set up allacrete bollards behind which they were taking cover to avoid incoming fire, peeking over to return volleys before crouching down again.

“That’s,” Dani said slowly, pointing towards a crest-emblazoned purple and red banner hanging from the manor walls on the screen, “House Thul.” 

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back towards the ceiling. “Don’t tell me.”

“They’re being besieged by the Sith Lord,” said Rebecca.

“I said don’t tell me.”

Hannah peered over Jamie’s shoulder to get a look at the screen. “Can you get us to the surface?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca. “But after that, I’m all out of ideas. I told you: I’m not a Core World girl. I don’t know Alderaan from a bottle of spotchka.” 

“I do.” 

Jamie opened her eyes and lowered her head. Beside her Dani had lifted her hand slightly as though waiting to be called on in class. “There’s a side entrance used primarily by servants and staff.”

“What? A side entrance dug all the way through the mountains?” Owen pointed to the snowy peaks pressed in tight on either side of the estate. 

“No, it’s here.” Dani tapped her finger against the screen just off to the side of where the camera was currently showing. “It’s where the guards sleep. You go through a security checkpoint and then down a tunnel which leads into a room off the great hall.” 

“Don’t think the security checkpoint won’t be a problem this time,” said Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca slowly as a guardsman on screen was shot dead and slumped to the ground, only to be pulled back over the bollard by one of his comrades. “They look a little occupied right now.” 

Chatter fizzed from another speaker on the dashboard. Frowning, Rebecca sat in the pilot’s seat and turned a dial until the frequency better matched. They could hear a staticky voice shouting frantic orders over the comm.

“That’s a Pub frequency,” Rebecca said. 

“The Empire has revealed its hand,” Owen said. “The Republic will be arriving with reinforcements soon.”

“Yeah, but not soon enough,” Jamie muttered darkly. 

Hannah hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, yes. A fully fledged Sith Lord? They can tear this estate apart and be out with what they want before Republic troops make it into orbit.” 

“Yeah, well, hopefully we can do the same.” 

From the sidelines, Dani suddenly spoke, “Can we talk about the children for a sec?” When she had everyone’s attention, she took a deep breath and continued, “What’s going to happen to them now that we know they’re Force Sensitive?” 

She looked towards Jamie, who raised both hands and shook her head, pointing towards Owen and Hannah. Hannah was looking at Owen, who shrugged and made a gesture, which Hannah reacted to with an emphatic tilt of her head, the two of them engaged in the kind of silent conversation only two people who had been together for so long knew. 

“Are you going to share with the class?” Jamie drawled. “Or are you two lovebirds just going to keep having your weird psychic talk that nobody else can hear?”

Hannah gave Jamie an arch, brook-no-nonsense glare, while Owen stuck out his tongue at her. 

“I think it best if we take them back to Tython,” said Hannah to Dani. “There they can be trained in the Force properly.”

Some of the tension held in Dani’s jaw slackened, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks. I needed to hear that.” 

“Anything else we need to discuss before we leap into the fray?” Rebecca asked from the pilot’s seat. 

Silence. 

“Right,” said Jamie, hand on the holster of her blaster pistol. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

[sparklingchim]

OK, SO I HAVE THOUGHT(S).

The boyish grin on his face fades. Jungkook looks like a kicked puppy when the realisation starts hitting him.

HA. now, i kinda feel bad about him. he’s really making efforts to win their friendship back. but, again, he deserves it, you know. he needs to try harder, work more. feeling bad about him now doesn’t really compare to all the things he put her through these past few months.

“Jungkook,” you warn, scowling at him. “Don’t be rude.”

i think, so far, jimin didn’t really do anything to jungkook—well, besides being cheeky and full of mischief and just overall jimin as his sexy self—for jungkook to be so huffy with him. i think jungkook’s just acting on his feelings towards oc right now—feelings we still don’t understand what really mean—that’s why he’s easily provoked by jimin’s presence.

He read your favourite book? That doesn’t make sense. He would never pick up a book. No matter how many times you’ve wanted him to read one of your favourites.

But as you flick through the book you see all the little notes he wrote with his black pen on the side of the pages. Sometimes there were sticky notes attached when his thoughts were too long to write next to the paragraphs. It’s a thick book as well, so you’re stunned to see almost every page marked with his black ink.

ANNOTATED BOOKS ARE SO PERSONAL !!! at least for me; i annotate my books as if it’s my diary. and if i ever give it to someone, that someone must be a person i truly trust and comfortable sharing my private thoughts with. so seeing jungkook do that to miss oc..... *emotional noises*

i feel like i truly grasp the idea of why you wrote that part, why you made jungkook’s gift her favorite book. most importantly, the gesture is more meaningful because jungkook is not a bookworm. and if you made a non-bookworm read your favorite book AND annotate it with full details, that’s some kind of a personal achievement! they really come as best friends first and foremost 😭 i love this pair so much, angsty hidden feelings and all.

fine. i’m kinda moved now by his little action. all butterflies and giggles for now, like what oc is feeling 🙄 i’m very moved by it, yes, but do we forgive him? a little. like 0.5%! but still... he has a long way to go.

also, i don’t want to get my hopes up. jungkook doesn’t show much growth from his dumbness still. he might do something after this and disappoint us all over again, and i’m sure he will.

and i’m still loving the TENSION with all three of them. i wouldn’t mind reading more of it. thanks for another update! <3

p.s are we going to get jungkook’s thoughts about what happened or...? is the next chapter about how they spend the day according to jungkook’s plans?

p.p.s nabi is so cute ⭐🌟✨💛🤱🏵️🌻 🌞🌜🐤🎉😻

first off, thank u sm for taking ur time to send me this!! i always love reading your thoughts n i'm so grateful that u take the time to send me an ask!!! <3

i annotate my books too!! some time ago i had someone over and the book i was reading was on my table n they grabbed it n i just went 😳😳 pls pls pls don't open it n look at all the lines i put tabs on 🏃‍♀️. luckily they only read the synopsis of the book in the back🥴

anyway, so that annotated book is rlly special to oc for obvious reasons n now she is all soft for jk again 😔

the next chapter will be about oc and jk hanging out so we won't get to see jungkooks thoughts about what happened!

have an amazing day/night love <3

[the-lack-of-errors-in-star-trek]

MIDNIGHT FLIGHTS - 0.1

Chapter 1

In a library, a young teacher, and a young FBI agent were browsing the same aisle of books on adolescent psychology, making efforts to stand a safe distance away. The first thing that Natasha noticed was a tall man with odd posture and interesting quirks for selecting a book, almost as if he were browsing psychological literature for fun. The first thing that Spencer noticed was that a relatively short woman was searching for two specific titles listed on a wrinkled sticky note, more than likely for the purposes of bettering her career. Both persons considered the other interesting for choosing to be in a library on a Friday afternoon when colleges, schools, and most workplaces were observing a winter break a week from Christmas.

Natasha is the first to leave the section with her two required readings, Spencer loitering around selecting three titles to occupy his afternoon in the library. While Natasha is checking out her books, she receives an incoming call, checking the number quickly before answering, expecting her mother on the line.

"Privyet, mama, what's going on?"

A familiar voice enters her ear, "Oh come on Nastya, I've been waiting on you for an hour now. Your mother is trying to get me to eat another bowl of borscht, please save me." The voice of her best friend, Anna, brings a light chuckle to Natasha.

"I'm almost done at the library, I promise, I'll be there in less than a half hour." She answers, handing her library card to be scanned by the sitting clerk.

"Da, please just hurry." Anna repeats her plea and hangs up, leaving Natasha to collect her items and hurry out of the lobby of the library, headed directly to the metro.

As promised, Natasha enters the small apartment above her family's store with 25 minutes to spare from Anna's disappointment. "Ya doma!" She calls out, a small "yay" can be heard from the kitchen as she sets her bag down by the door. Walking into the sitting room connected to the kitchen, she spots the clock as being 19:36.

"You need to eat dinner, Lisichka" her mother calls out to her, wiping down the counter and sipping on a coffee, lit cigarette in hand.

"And right after, we need to change, hurry." Anna demands of her, walking from the small kitchen to the living room couch, eyeing the news playing in the background.

Natasha's adult life was very much consistent, after a long week of teaching and grading middle schoolers, Anna would be right there to take her to the newest clubs in the D.C. area. Natasha took a moment to analyse her friendship while eating her borscht and bread. They had met in the local Eastern Orthodox church in D.C. Nowadays, both only practice in the name of tradition instead of the belief they held as children, but that bond was set when they spoke for the first time during a church meal, and most of the Eastern European community probably only went to church for that same reason, tradition. Nastya and Anna were practically sisters, and had felt loss in the same way. When Anna was 16, she lost her brother in a car accident, and finally understood why Nastya carried an air of grief around her. Losing family was losing a part of your soul, and that was an unshakable moment between the two teens, leading them to live in similar ways. For Nastya, she put her heart and soul into teaching, making the world better for young scholars one English class period at a time, and for Anna, working as an intern in a law firm while working towards the bar exam meant giving her family name a better reputation than just "some Russians" living in D.C.

Later that night, the metro ride to the heart of downtown was largely uneventful, both women dressed for a fun time in the city, Anna wearing her blonde hair up in a twist, exposing a black sweater and gold necklace, slacks and heeled boots to go with. Nastya was dressed in a similar fashion, a red sweater from light fabric and dark jeans going with her worn black heeled boots, both women holding their purses close while holding the same rail. Leaving the metro meant walking fast from the station to the club, as the cold December air placed a chill over their bones. Neon lights could be seen all over the city, entering a small queue where a bouncer was checking IDs for entry into a new and definitely not prestigious club.

With a side eye from the bouncer, most likely from the last names on their Virginian licenses, both Anna and Nastya enter the club with no further event. The lights were strobing different colors, the music was loud and pumping, and both women sought a beeline for the bar, hoping to clock in a few shots prior to dancing. The bartender is a kind woman who obliges in pouring the four shots, taking payment from Natasha immediately.

"I'll cover the next four," Anna states, washing the second shot down with a sip of coke.

"You better!" Natasha laughs, lightly tapping Anna's shoulder, and turning to look at the crowd. Both were thankful for the fact the club had a coat room, ensuring the only thing needed to carry was their phones and some cash. "Dance?" She asks her friend, looking to the floor.

"Definitely!" Anna shouts over the music, dragging Nastya by the wrist to the floor, alcohol keeping their chests warm as they begin to dance by themselves and next to each other. A few men pass by briefly, none getting too close, but a quite muscular man saunters over, seeming to try and seduce Anna. Nastya takes this as a cue to find something stronger from the bar, leaning over to Anna's ear.

"Have fun, don't leave without me." She commands, receiving a thumbs up from her friend before closing the gap and dancing up on the bald man who approached them. Nastya can overhear their introductions as she walks away and towards the bar. She orders a gin and tonic from the lady behind the counter, and sips on it while walking the perimeter of the floor, attempting to spot her friend. Assuming they went towards the middle of the floor, she hangs back, taking the next ten minutes to slam through her drink, leaving it on the bar counter before finally spotting Anna's figure at a table of people, the man she was dancing with not even 15 minutes before standing next to her. Nastya walks over, tapping Anna on the shoulder.

"I thought I told you not to stray far," Nastya starts in Russian, "I couldn't find you for a solid ten." She finishes in English.

Anna shushes her, "Dude it's fine, look these guys are awesome! They work here! In the D.C.!" Liquor had always taken Anna faster than Nastya, she was just hoping she could keep tabs on her. She shakes her head at her friend before looking at the table, spotting an oddly familiar face across from her.

"Are you two Russian?" A skinny brunette asks the both of them in broken Russian, alcohol makes anyone a polyglot with the right vocabulary. Both women nod, answering with a curt "Da" waiting for more conversation to enter the table.

"Well we love meeting new people, your friend already told me her name, I'm Derek, what's yours?" The tall buff man asks Natasha.

"Natasha, nice to meet you Derek, don't move too fast on her, she gets tipsy faster than I do." Natasha cracks a friendly comment, getting a laugh and a light slap on the shoulder from Anna.

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Emily." The brunette introduces herself to both young women on the spot, moving to point to the two people sitting next to her. "This is Penelope," she says, pointing to a slightly chubby and eccentric woman with cat eye glasses and an outfit to match, plenty of colour in comparison to the rest of their group. A short and sweet "nice to meet you" leaves Penelope's lips, moving to chew on her small bar straw in her red cocktail.

"And this is Spencer, our workplace genius." Emily finishes, the familiar man waving but finally looking up to face both women.

"Wait, I saw you in the library earlier today," he starts, shock coming to most of the table's faces. "Adolescent psychology, what was that for?"

"I'm a teacher." Natasha answers shortly, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Just light reading material." Spencer answers in the same matter of fact manner, the interaction leaving an odd air around the group.

Emily moves over slightly, "Please sit, the more the merrier, we can keep drinks going." Anna is the first to oblige, her boots new and not nearly as easy on the feet as Nastya's.

"Come on, Nastya, don't be a stranger, you need more friends than just me." Anna slaps the spot next to her, Nastya giving into the demands of her friend, as Derek excuses himself to grab shots for the table.

"So you know our professions," Nastya starts, "what brings you four together?"

"We work in the same office," Emily answers, her tone always warm and welcoming, definitely appealing to Natasha in opening up. "Federal agents, gotta cut loose every once and awhile."

Anna and Nastya nod, Anna piping up first. "What is that even like?"

"A lot of paperwork most of the time, but keeps us on our toes." Emily and Penelope seem to be the most talkative, the blonde answering the question this time around.

"Really?" Derek asks, coming back to the table and conversation with plenty of shots for everyone. "You're the one in the cave, Garcia, these girls were asking about our action packed adventures."

Everyone except Spencer takes a shot after making a cheer, catching Nastya's attention. "What is it, Mr. Spencer? Vodka not for you?"

"Actually it's Doctor Reid," he answers, taking Natasha aback, "and I've just never been crazy about drinking in general."

"Jesus, how old are you?" She asks, genuinely curious how a man looking so young could be that smart with a PhD.

"I'm 26 years old, a bit of a high IQ and fast reading will take you pretty far." He answers.

"Seriously? We're like the same age and you already have a doctorate?"

"Three of them, actually." This answer causes Anna to choke on her drink, an amused look from Spencer's work friends.

"Fucking impossible!" Anna calls out, "There's no way, you're too young!"

Derek laughs, "Anything is possible when this dude graduated high school at the ripe age of 12." Derek and Anna look at each other and nod, an unspoken agreement that both were bored and wanted to dance. Nastya moves to let Anna out onto Derek's shoulder, and takes her place at the table.

"So when did you leave Russia?" Emily asks, alcohol keeping the conversation on getting to know everyone.

"I mean, I was born here, by my parents left right at the start of the Glasnost and Perestroika," Natasha answers, no harm in answering the question no matter how odd it was to be talking to the FBI off duty. "Anna's family was a bit more lucky, her grandparents snuck out of the eastern bloc, making her second generation."

Penelope is the next to engage in conversation, "I can't imagine, have you ever travelled there since the wall fell?" She asks and it's a harmless question out of curiosity, but it places Natasha on edge. She shakes her head as a response. It was her time to ask questions.

"What even do you guys do?" She asks, not meaning to come off in a mean tone, but luckily Spencer sees through it and answers.

"We work behavioural analysis, most people assume that to mean we work to catch serial killers, but it's not just that, there's also arsonists, kidnappers, and rapists, and any crime in which behaviour can be studied."

"What a mouthful," Natasha responds, Penelope and Emily chuckling in response to the interaction.

"He's always quiet until he has something he can info-dump on you" Emily assures Natasha, keeping the same warm smile. It was certainly a nice group, but after an extra hour of small talk, and a few more rounds of shots, in which Natasha snags the numbers of all three at the table, it becomes evident that Anna had a very high chance of going home with Derek instead of back to Natasha's family apartment.

"You lost her?" Spencer asks, towering over her as they pack up to leave the club.

"Seems like it, metro should be loads of fun." Natasha eyes how Anna is practically climbing all over Derek.

Spencer looks between the two, and comes to a conclusion. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm driving for Emily and Penelope, I can drive you too. The crime rates at this hour skyrocket, especially if you're taking the metro by yourself."

Natasha decides to take up the group on their offer, making sure Anna left with Derek safely first. When stepping onto the street at a bright one in the morning, Natasha can't help but notice how far the temperature has dropped in just the past few hours. The group of four head to Spencer's car, and pile in.

The ride is largely uneventful, address after address meant that Spencer was left to drive Natasha home after Emily and Penelope, both remaining silent on the drive to the outskirts of D.C.

"It's this store right here, thank you." Natasha responds when Spencer pulls up.

"You live in a store?"

"Above it."

"Oh, yeah that makes sense..." He trails off, pulling into the side of the road. "It was nice to meet you, have a good night."

"Thanks again," Natasha answers, exiting the car with her purse, both of the adults creating an awkward silence between each other. "Good night." Spencer drives off right when she backs onto the sidewalk, getting into the store apartment with no alert to her mother.

As Natasha fell asleep that night, she wondered what kind of story Anna would have for her the next morning, as well as how the fuck the FBI got a lanky kid to hunt down serial killers, but couldn't teach him how to hold a conversation.

Taglist: @iwannabemorethanme​

[prompt-wars-in-the-stars]

Sorry it took an age! Here's the D&D Modern Star Wars AU with bonus Jango x Obi since you gave free reign with parings.

Obi-Wan was not quite sure what to expect when he had been invited to Anakin's 'campaign'.  He'd understood his little brother had began playing a role-playing game once he started college and had been happy to see how it helped Anakin bloom in confidence and his moods mellowed out as he befriended his 'party members'. Obi-Wan had gone to a game shop and the young woman working there had happily helped him purchase some dice and books for Anakin when he'd realized his brother was not going to let this hobby go anytime soon. Seeing Anakin beaming when he opened the presents had made the disbelief and judgement of the worker's worth it. Apparently Obi-Wan did not look sufficiently 'nerdy' as the teenage worker, A. Tano had explained. 

Obi-Wan was fairly certain nerd was supposed to be an insult. It certainly had when he was younger, but the girl had said it with pride and he'd seen the merchandise bearing the word. So perhaps he was just out of touch.

When he'd received Anakin's invitation, it had been a text that had been followed by 'only if you wanna', 'our DM really wants some new blood', 'we don't see each other much any', and 'IGNORE THAT IT WASN'T FOR YOU'. Obi-Wan had spotted the obvious lie and felt instantly guilty. They had been spending less time together with Obi-Wan's new book and promotions for the movie and Anakin being at college and with his friends so often. It would be a good structured way to see each other each week. Anakin had tried to be nonchalant when he'd said yes, but Obi-Wan knew he'd been grinning and vowed to make sure it was a good game and threw himself into research. 

A. Tano, who finally introduced herself as Ahsoka, had been happy to help and had turned out to be a player herself, explaining classes and races and lore to him as they looked through dice and The Player's Handbook. She'd offered to just send him her PDF's of the book, but he'd declined though it was sweet. He preferred physical books and enjoyed being able to tab and write in them. Although he did accept the many websites she directed him to that were quite helpful.

All in all with a few texts to Anakin, who sounded more and more wary of his specific game related questions, he felt quite confident in his character and emailed the DM, whose name Anakin had failed to supply, his typed up storyline and sheet for approval.

The man, presumably one of Anakin's classmates, and it was an odd thought to have a 20 something with some authority over him, had approved it and complimented his storyline with something along the lines of, 'It's always nice to have another story and roleplay player in the group. I was concerned Anakin had invited another Murder Hobo, but you will do nicely Kenobi.' Anakin had sent him a long line of 'lols'  when he'd asked what a 'Murder Hobo' was and promptly forgot to explain it as he instead asked for romantic advice. 'For a friend.' After she'd finished laughing, Ahsoka had, yet again, proved much more helpful in explaining and managed to get Obi-Wan to buy another set of dice, a lovely blue shade that glimmered and had gold numbers. He had yet to play and he was becoming quite fond of collecting the different colored sets. His first one had been 'Lawful Good' at Ahsoka's insistence.

All in all he felt confident as he drove to the address Anakin had texted him and the DM, who never signed his emails, had confirmed. He'd been expecting some first time apartment or perhaps, at worst, a dorm. Instead his GPS led him further and further into the countryside outside the city Anakin went to school, until he was turning down a gravel driveway. The road was covered in trees on both sides that bent over it, cutting off the sky as the outstretched branches blended together and pretty soon he was going up a small hill, into the large forest he had spotted from the freeway. Obi-Wan was somewhat nervous, but his GPS assured him this was correct and then he was pulling into a large lawn spotted with cars and staring at a beautiful sprawling cabin style home with a full wrap around porch, garden out of a fairytale and picturesque pond with a small pier.

That was not a college student's home, but he could clearly see Anakin on the porch talking enthusiastically to an older looking young woman with a besotted look Obi-Wan recognized. Perhaps it was one of Anakin's friends' parent's home? Obi-Wan realized he was suddenly nervous at the realization that besides Anakin, his neighbor, and his agent he hadn't really socialized with anyone since they'd moved here two years ago. That was a bit embarrassing. 

Before he could consider it too long he parked beside one of the other vehicles and saw Anakin look up and grin like the sun at the sight of him. It made Obi-Wan relax. He would be fine. For goodness sakes he was a friendly grown man he could socialize fine. He'd even been called charming on more than one occasion. 

It would be fine.

Obi-Wan hurriedly collected his binder and then grabbed the cloth bag containing the snacks. Ahsoka had insisted that snacks were a must for any game and helped him select a collection beyond Anakin's favourites. Obi-Wan got out and just managed to brace himself in time for Anakin to launch himself at Obi-Wan and wrap him in a tight hug. Obi-Wan stifled a laugh into his brother's shoulder and returned it one armed only protesting when Anakin tried to pick him up. The boy, young man now, laughed at his protest but dropped him. He looked up into familiar blue eyes on a tanned face framed by a mess of long curls and felt something inside him soften.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, full of affection and then to distract from it reached out to gently tug the curls. "It's gotten even longer."

Anakin rolled his eyes pulling away, grumbling but still grinning.

"Qui-Gon's was longer," Anakin pointed out,  the same argument he'd used when he said he wanted to start growing it out. "And it's nothing compared to your mullet."

"It was not a mullet," Obi-Wan protested by rote and was surprised when there was a soft feminine laugh from behind Anakin.

Obi-Wan looked over Anakin's shoulder to find a lovely young woman a few years older than his brother. Her brown hair was done up in a lovely curling style and she smiled brightly. She wore an odd dress that was deep blue dress frames with black lace with odd white square patterned corset that resembled windows on the waist. There were swirling shapes in the blue and he could see up close that the top of black bodice said "Police Box" in white lettering.

"Oh, hello there," Obi-Wan said, slightly surprised. Anakin looked askance at the greeting which made Obi-Wan want to roll his eyes. Instead though he smiled and side stepped his brother to offer the woman his hand, shifting the handle of the snack bag to his wrist. Anakin had the absurd idea that Obi-Wan was an unconscious flirt, which was ridiculous. He may have bantered with others on occasion, but it was all very lighthearted and he hadn't pursued a flirtation in years. As it was he was suspecting he had become too much of an odd hermit to be all that appealing despite Anakin's insistence of 'seductions'.

He was even convinced that Obi-Wan's neighbor had some kind of crush on him rather than a strangely intense hatred and disapproval.

'Hello there' was not his 'signature move' despite what Anakin liked to claim.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, ignoring Anakin's betrayed look as the woman shook his. Her hands were small but strong. 

"Padmé Naberrie," the woman returned with a dimpled smile of her own.

"Queen Amidala?" Obi-Wan asked, startled and Padmé looked just as surprised but then beamed laughing.

"You follow my blog?" She sounded torn between flattered and embarrassed. 

Obi-Wan nodded. "Your analysis is very thoughtful and it's been helpful for developing my more political character's thought processes as well as provoking me to consider my own--How did you put it, 'civic duty and impact on my government and holding them accountable'?"

"Oh," Padmé said with a smile and her face sharpened with interest. "Anakin mentioned you were a writer. You're focusing on something political?"

"A bit of alternate history fun," Obi-Wan admitted lightly. He was very much not thinking on the stacks and stacks of posted notes covering his desks, hours of recorded footage from documentaries, and books that were more sticky notes and highlighting than text. He was ignoring the hours and hours of time thrown into research spirals.

"What are you changing?" Padmé asked, eyes bright and interested. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a loud clap beside them. They both turned to find Anakin standing there hands together looking embarrassed and vaguely panicked. Obi-Wan stared, confused as his brother went pink and started speaking, rushed and stumbling.

"Alright. Don't wanna be late for game!" Anakin choked up and ducked between them grabbing Obi-Wan's arm. "COME ON OBI-WAN YOU CAN SIT BESIDE ME."

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be dragged, stunned by this but Padmé laughed lightly behind them. He noted the color on Anakin's face deepened at the sound and he felt something inside him soften. He had not imagined the besotted look then and he had most likely found the one behind the advice for Anakin's 'friend'. 

Obi-Wan hid a small smile as he followed Anakin inside. It was loud, though the noise seemed to be coming from down the stairs to the immediate right. The first thing Obi-Wan saw was a very comfortable living room with some weapons hung on the wall, one wall reserved for what appeared to be an album's worth of family photos, a large TV, and several glass cases that seemed to contain figurines and models. Children's toys were scattered haphazardly throughout and this along with the colorful quilts, the homework and crayons spread out on the coffee table, and baby pen folded in the corner seemed to soften the room.

Obi-Wan's smile stayed firm until he looked at the man in the middle of the room who was collecting the scattered toys to place in a box. Clearly older, closer to Obi-Wan's age and likely the parent of Anakin's friend. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to greet him only for the man to look up and for Obi-Wan to come face to face with familiar brown eyes.

His words died.

The man looked just as stunned--even more handsome than when Obi-Wan had last seen him, part of him pointed out--half bent over, one hand wrapped around a stuffed dragon and the other stabilizing the toy box he was carrying. He was slightly rumbled in soft worn-in sweatpants that clung to his thighs and a white tank top that fully displayed his arms. The outfit was finished by a lopsided crown of dandelions and wildflowers, resting on his head. He looked so much softer, older of course with wrinkles around his eyes and a few small scars, but there were smile lines and he looked so much more in his element in a way that made Obi-Wan's heart squeeze and a worry he'd carried for two decades unfurled.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice knocked them both out of the staring. Obi-Wan jumped and turned to Anakin to find him frowning and then flickering a quick look to the man. "Do-do you know Jango?"

He sounded so baffled by the concept.

Obi-Wan honestly wasn't sure how to answer or how much was his to share.

"We're old friends," Jango said smoothly stepping forward to offer his hand and a smile as he met Obi-Wan's gaze.

Obi-Wan took it, feeling the warmth and calluses of his palms without quite believing this surreal moment was happening.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed, voice thankfully not showing the strange mess of his thoughts. His eyes were focused on Jango's taking in the color he'd used to know so well. "Very old ones."

The warmth lingered as the broke apart and Obi-Wan felt strangely bereft at that and curled his palm closed as if to keep the memory of the sensation from fading.

"Time for game," Jango said, firmly and Anakin looked ready to protest, but a soft touch on his shoulder had him following Padmé down the stairs leaving Obi-Wan alone with one last suspicious glance.

Alone with Jango. Who he hadn't seen since he was sixteen and completely besotted.

[bvllyhargrove]

I’ll Take You For A Ride (Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader)

Summary - After fighting for your attention, Billy offers to drive you home...

Words- 3717

Notes - Too many sleepless nights went into this, I forgot how to write smut halfway through the scene and this was born... I promise it’s not too horrible. Let me know what you think! It’s my first time writing for Billy and I genuinely enjoyed it 

~~~

It was hot, the unforgiving Indiana sun rays beating down on your chest as you tried your best to stay in the shadow of your umbrella. You canceled out the joyous screams and laughter coming from the water as you relaxed, sunglasses perched gently on the bridge of your nose.

You could hear the soccer mom's just a few occupied seats from you, drone on about a new lemonade recipe they perfected - just in time for summer. Not even your friend's constant chatter didn't penetrate your eardrums as you mindlessly sipped the new recipe of Coke through the cheap plastic straw.

Lucas swore the new recipe tasted better than the original, and you loved the kid just enough to try it. Years of babysitting for The Sinclairs were both a blessing and a curse on your end. He's been trying to date you since he was a toddler.

"What about a job at the mall? Steve works there... at that ice cream place." Carol murmurs behind her pocket mirror. Somehow, In the hundred-degree heat, she still cared about her makeup. It was a blessing that it wasn't melting off of her.

"Give it up, he won't date you, he's dating Nancy Wheeler." Your eyes flicker over the crowded pool, lips turning down in disgust. There was no way in Hell that you would be caught dead in that water... with all of those kids... the mere thought made your skin crawl.

Carol shifted in her seat, moving the mirror away from her face to glare at you. "Uh, no he's not. Isn't Nancy Wheeler dating Jonathan Byers?" You shrugged, eyes slipping closed under your sunglasses.

"Ugh, Nancy is dating Jonathan? Like, barf me out..."

"What about the lifeguard? Do you know her?" You watched her descend the lifeguard stand, nibbling mindlessly on her whistle. Carol cocked an eyebrow, shaking her head.

"No, I've never seen her a- who is that...?" She tugged her sunglasses from her nose to glance at the shirtless male lifeguard making his way to take Heather's spot. "Is that Billy Hargrove? Holy shit."

Eyes turned to him, girls gaping as they walked past him. He was beautiful, the soft tan of his skin contrasting perfectly with the red of his swim trunks. You lifted your sunglasses as well, watching with mysterious eyes as he walked closer to you, sharing pleasantries with the soccer moms. He walked past you, his eyes lingering. He seemed to move in slow motion as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth - a movement that Billy noticed.  

"Afternoon girls." He spoke slowly, his tone dripping with seduction. You breathed out a hot sigh, the blazing hundred-degree heat feeling more like a thousand on your skin.

Carol shot him a smirk, eyes sultry. "Hi, Billy."

Billy's eyes rake down your body, chewing on the end on his whistle. "The shades... they're rad." He murmured, teeth still bitten down on the metal. You shook your head, looking down.

"Thank you, Billy."

"Anytime." He shot you a wink, glancing at Carol and giving her a smirk. He moved his gaze back in front of him as he continued his path to the lifeguard tower.

"Oh, my God. He totally was eyeing you up! Y/N, this is big!" She sat up, grabbing onto your arm obnoxiously.

"Not even." You fixed your shades, before taking your coke back in your hands and taking a tentative sip, turning your nose up at the flat texture of the drink.

"Even!" She nodded enthusiastically. "Go up there and talk to him!"

"Carol, no." You waved her off, moving to grab your flip flops. "But I am going to get a bottle of water. Come with?" After Carol shook her head 'no', you stood, grabbing your wallet and making your way to the concession stand, trying your best to dodge the icky, sweaty kids passing by you.

You arrived at the stand, breathing out a sigh when the shade of the roof covered your overheated body. A short line of consumers stood ahead of you, taking their time in ordering their overpriced soft drinks and sticky half-melted ice cream.

"What's your poison, I'm buying." You jumped, looking to your left where Billy stood next to you. A delicious sheen of sweat covered his body delicately, giving his rippling muscles a more defined look. You simply shook your head, reaching for your money.

"Do you think I'm incapable of buying my own water?" You scoff, stepping forward as the line grew sparse.

You weren't dumb, you've heard about The Billy Hargrove. The handsome seducer that made girls cream their pants with a mere smirk from him. You weren't that naive to fall into his trap, no matter how deep his icy glare or how tempting his full, pink smirk was as he worked a piece of spearmint gum between his teeth.

"Come on, princess, don't make me beg, now." He chuckles, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. You fought back a gasp, turning your gaze dead in front of you. His laugh was impeccably deep, stirring something from inside of you.

Fuck. You were fucked.

"No need to beg. You're not a child." You shrugged, inching towards the counter. There was one more person in front of you and Billy was still glued to your side. He cocked an eyebrow, ghosting out another chuckle.

"Calling me a child, Y/N? That's not very nice..."

You ignored him, asking for water once you got to the concession stand. Billy shook his head in disbelief, once again, laughing.

"Now you're ignoring me... playing hard to get, hm? Well, lucky for you, I quite enjoy a challenge."

"Shove it up your ass, Hargrove." You snatched the water placed on the counter for you and went to fish money from your wallet.

"Put it on my tab, hm?" He spoke slowly before placing a hand on your lower back, leading you back to the pool area. You felt a rush of excitement course through you at the defiance you shown. You couldn't deny that you wanted Billy, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet.

~

You and your friend waited until the sun started to set and the pool emptied of the countless children before starting to pack up. Thoroughly exhausted and sweaty.

You dreamed of getting into the shower, standing under the cool spray as water cascaded down your back, washing the stink and dirt from the day down the drain. The shower was your happy place, a place you could be alone with your thoughts long enough without disruption.

You craved silence and peace...

"Hey, Y/N," Your eyes screwed shut as you halted in your steps towards the entrance. Billy pulled a cigarette from his jean pocket, lighting it quickly before taking a slow, steady drag of the cancerous haze.

He was dressed simply, a change from his shirtless torso and red swim trunks. His tight jeans hugged his slim legs almost breathtakingly perfect and his loose-fitting pale pink button-up barely even buttoned halfway down his sun-kissed, ab rippled chest.

"Go ahead and leave, Y/N's friend..." He waved Carol off haphazardly. The setting sun cast an almost terrifyingly angelic glow on his face, his light eyes reflecting the golden rays - luring you in.

Your body unofficially belonged to him, you knew it.

"Uh, okay? Are you okay with that, Y/N?" She rose her eyebrow at you, a slight teasing gaze painting her features. You shrugged, nodding slowly. You turned to Billy, crossing your arms over your chest in slight defiance.

"Don't make me beg," He stared back at you, blowing his mouthful of smoke in your face. You wanted to slap that smug look off of his face but you also loved it. Making him fight for what he wants. It's obvious he's never had to before.

"Get on your knees, cowboy. Beg."

"What?" Billy chuckled, looking to the ground. You shrugged, urging him on.

"You want to drive me home? You beg."

He flicked the grey-hot ash onto the pavement before hiking up the fabric of his jeans and falling on one knee in front of you. "I can't believe I'm doing this..." He mutters, peering up at you with childlike innocence. "Oh, please, Y/N. Please let me drive you home." He tucks a curl behind his ear, smirking up at you.

You pretended to ponder for a few seconds before nodding. "Fine. I'll let you drive me home. Get up." Billy smiles gratefully, standing back on his feet and taking another slow drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground, stomping it out. He was graceful as he holds his hand out for you.

"Take my hand and I'll take you to the stars."

"How corny." Carol snickers behind you, moving back towards the gate and to her car. The rising sound of crickets reached the two of you as you stood under the pink and golden sky. It looked almost out of a cheesy storybook.

You found your eyes gazing into his mysterious blues. Looking, searching, wanting... all of him.

He turned away on his heel, the smirk never leaving his face as he leads you out of the enclosed space, twirling his keys on his finger as he waves goodbye to his co-workers. You felt a new kind of confidence as you walked out of the pool with Billy Hargrove.

"This is my baby - A '79 Chevy Camaro. She's two and a half tons of pure, undisputed muscle." He knocked on the hood, sending a dull, metallic bang throughout the parking lot.

"So, are you an engine head?" You inquired, stepping into the passenger seat carefully. You could tell he took pride in the blue-tinted car. as you looked around the black interior. It was clean - you weren't expecting that much.

The ashtray, however, was full. Discarded butts of old cigarettes decorated the small compartment. The car smelled of cologne and smoke. It smelled like Billy, that delicious scent you wouldn't let your sinuses erase.

He climbed into the driver's side, keeping the door ajar as he fumbled around in the glove compartment, elbow resting on your thigh as he glanced up at you with those oh, so sinful jet blue eyes and those majestically long eyelashes.

You never understood how this beautiful man could be such a douche. But that's how all of the pretty boys were - hormonal idiots waving their dicks around without a care.

He finally retrieved a half-empty pack of gum, holding it up to you as an invitation which you denied. He shrugged, sitting back up in his seat and popping the thin white stick of the dry mint-flavored chicle into his mouth.

"You sure you don't want a piece, princess?" He flicked the metallic paper out of the window, working the gum between his teeth with a precise gaze, centered directly onto you.

"Uh - no." You cleared your throat, looking back outside of your window, finally letting yourself breathe the musty outside air. He was quick, shifting the car in drive professionally. He pressed on the gas, jerking the car into drive spaztically, causing both of your bodies to fall back in the hard leather seats.

He zoomed out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of tire smoke in its wake.

~

A few minutes into the drive, to where - you weren't quite sure; the heady rock music played loudly inside of the car, irritating your eardrums. You've told Billy to turn it down multiple times, to which he ignored, playing it off as he couldn't hear your pleads over the songs.

Eventually, he reached over, turning the volume down to near mute as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

"Tell me about yourself." He drummed on the steering wheel to nonexistent music, his steady hand barely gripping the wheel as he rested his elbow on his thigh.

"There's not much to know about me." You shrug, glancing back over to him. He's still rapping his fingers obnoxiously on the wheel, light brown boyish curls moving almost angelically in the harsh wind. "Oh, well, I'm a babysitter. I sit for the Sinclairs, The Wheelers, etc."

"Yeah? Then you tell that creepy kid Lucas to stop harassing my sister. I tried to tell the little shit to keep her distance but she enjoys going against me. It's like she has a deathwish." He grumbled, tone harsh. You furrowed your eyebrows at the tone before shrugging it off. He was a universal douche, you doubt he acted differently to his family.

"You have a sister?"

"She's not my sister, just someone I had the grave misfortune of living with." He chews on his bottom lip impatiently as he turns into the parking lot of Hawkins High. You look around the familiar scenery, suddenly confused as to why he picked a high school to grope you at.

You knew his intentions, you weren't stupid.

And you knew you weren't the first girl to get fucked in the backseat of his car.

"I'm going to cut to the chase, baby. I want you. I've wanted you since I've seen you around the halls at school. I wanted you when that saw that sinful fucking body in that swimsuit at the pool. And I want you now, shivering in my presence." He spoke slowly, deep and brooding as he shifted the car in park, taking off his seatbelt and hovering close to you just over the console. You could feel his hot, minty, nicotine-laced breath on your hot skin, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Fuck.

"W-what?" Internally you screamed, hating the tiny squeak that left your red-bitten lips. He laughed darkly, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth even further. They were slick with sheen, red and pouty in the setting sun. His silver chain dipped from his shirt, landing on your slightly exposed chest. You shivered, eyes flitting closed.

"Beautiful..." He leaned closer, enclosing his lips around yours with haste. The kiss was messy and hot, teeth clacking together and tongues dancing in one another's mouth. He panted hotly against you, sliding a hand around your waist and pulling you even closer.

His hands were heated and quick as they explored your body just under your swimsuit cover and onto your stomach, feeling the soft skin under his fingertips.

You were melting, his touch beckoning you in. You were already aching, the buzz of arousal already pooling between your clenched thighs.

He pulled away, quick. Panting against your sucked raw mouth, causing a low, high whine to escape your parted lips. You needed him but you weren't surprised that he was a tease. Always a fucking tease...

"Billy... no." You breathe, tasting him on your tongue. He tasted just how you thought, of cigarettes and mint. It was his smell, his taste. You couldn't get over it.

It made you dizzy, needy... for him.

"Oh, what's that, princess?" He teased slowly, keeping his eyes steadily staring into yours. You shook your head, parting your thighs.

"I need it."

He attached his lips to yours again, nibbling on your bottom lip and slipping his tongue into your awaiting mouth. You focused on his every movement, the pulsing ache in your cunt becoming more evident with every single drag of his lips. "Get in the backseat, I want you absolutely naked." His words are articulated and dense, and if you weren't wet before, you are now.

You were quick, shoving off your loose-fitting bathing suit cover-up as you climbed over the console, your bare feet pushing against the upholstery of the car. You could hear the low jingle of Billy unlatching his belt and pulling down his zipper - still sitting densely in the driver's seat. He rolls up the windows, looking around at the barren parking lot to ensure the both of you were alone.

Your hands were busy pulling and tugging at your suit, peeling the skin-tight material off of your body, leaving you exposed and panting, welcoming the cool summer night air on your skin.

He was dark and brooding as he climbed over the console, fully unbuttoned shirt clinging onto his shoulders and half-opened jeans sitting tightly on his hips. He ran his tongue over his slick top lip at the sight of you. You could make out the half-mast outline of his cock through his jeans, making you shudder.

He hovered himself over you, noses touching. You breathed in his carbon dioxide and he breathed in yours. You reached up to tangle your fingers in his curly locks, pulling him down to another passionate kiss, letting the first moan of the night slip from your lips as you felt the rough fabric of his jeans and the outline of his sizeable member rutting against your thigh.

You threw your head back against the window, grinding down into his touch. You couldn't focus on anything else as your wetness fell onto the seat underneath you, soaking your thighs. He caught onto your neediness. You were right where he wanted you, soaked and writhing under him.

"Off, take them off." You breathed out, moving your finger down to tug at the fabric. He let you, looking down to you with those fucking eyelashes. Everything about this rippling man was perfection.

You dipped your thumb into the waistband of his tight briefs, pulling them down just so you could sneak your hand under the fabric, cupping him tightly through his pants. He finally let his eyes slip shut, his pink lips parting in a silent moan. You let your nimble fingers explore his thick length, mapping out the prominent veins on the underside.

"That's enough." He shot open his eyes, sitting back on his heels and tugging off his jeans and boxers, tossing them in the front seat haphazardly before taking his entire length in his hands, stroking his hand over it with a sly smirk.

"Like what you see?" He takes his free hand, spitting crudely in the palm before spreading it on the head of his already leaking cock. You bite out another moan, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." You mutter, rubbing your thighs together, eager and begging wet-lipped for friction. You needed it, craved it, even.

"Language," He warned, hovering back on top of you, keeping himself balanced as one hand blindly leads his length towards your weeping cunt. It took all of your might to not sink down him as he pressed the head of his cock inside of you, watching your face intently as it twisted and morphed into one of utter pleasure, even pain as he stretched you out as no other man has before.

His hands grazed your skin, dull nails scratching down the insides of your thighs as he impaled himself deeper and deeper inside of you, keeping his bottom lip prisoner between his teeth, like always. You fisted his hair, already dampened with sweat as you tried to get used to the uncomfortable stretch.

Slowly, that pain morphed into immense pleasure, sending your eyes rolling back in your head. He bottomed out, leaning down to kiss and bite at your neck, leaving the skin irritated with his hickeys. You cried out at the contradicting feelings, wanting to focus on the hot wetness of his mouth but also needing him to just give in and fuck you already.

You let out a strangled sob as he rocked into your tight cunt, his mouth parted so perfectly the entire time, and his god-like eyelashes casting shadows onto his boyish face.

You found yourself staring at him, taking in his blissed-out expression as sharp moans fell from your lips. There was a refreshing gentility to how he fucked you - he rolled his hips into you, savoring how your walls clenched and spasmed around him

The air was hot with perspiration as he finally focused eye contact on you, curling his lips into a smirk as he strengthened his thrusts, nearly at the point of punishing as you already felt your orgasm flip and jump in the pit of your stomach.

"B-Billy!" You moaned, wrapping your legs around him tight, trying to get him deeper. You needed him deeper. Your toes curled, legs spasming as you felt the tip of his cock brush against that silvery sweet spot inside of you that made you scream at the top of your lungs

The hot leather stuck to the skin on your back, chafing the skin as you focused on your impending orgasm, sneaking up on you sinfully as you fisted at Billy's locks. "I-I'm close." You bit out, doing anything to get more friction where you needed it the most. He didn't take his eyes off of yours, drinking in your drunk off of pleasure expression as he fucked you into heaven.

"Cum, baby. Cum all over my cock, hm?" He whispered, nostrils flaring as his breathing picked up. He muttered out a string of curse words, eyes slipping shut as he used your cunt like a toy, chasing his impending orgasm.

It didn't take you much longer before you were seizing under him, cunt spasming and quaking around his length as you came, your hot liquids gushing around him. Your eyes fluttered as you fucked yourself down onto his cock. Still needing to feel every single inch of him.

You were whining with sensitivity, unwinding your arms from Billy as you grip the car seat for purchase. His thrusts barely faltered as he reached his high, throwing his head back in a guttural moan as he pulled out unexpectedly, letting the head of his already weeping cock fall on your lower stomach, letting his cum paint your sweat sticky stomach.

"Fuck! You fucking - Uh!!" The muscles in his arms tensed beautifully, allowing you to make out every defined tendon and vein. You bit down on your lip, the sticky cum on your stomach already drying.

"Take me home now?" Your arms shook as you sat up, everything single part of you in disarray. You sat in a pool of your sticky arousal, grimacing when you felt your skin peel away from the leather.

He simply chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, no princess. I have plans for you." He scooted closer to you, dragging a finger down your chin. "Big plans."

[darknytemare]

No Words pt 4

BTS - V Imagine - Tall Girl - Interracial - Dirtyish

Note: Life happened. Sorry for the long wait! We’ll be back on schedule this week. Remember, don’t be shy! Any and all thoughts, criticisms are appreciated!

“You know I hate when you make me wait, Tae.” The maknae narrowed dark eyes that trailed down the length of Taehyung’s body. 

...and the tight grip that Tae had on the front of his pants. 

Jeongguk’s eyes narrowed on his, strangely quiet friend. The towel draped around his broad shoulders as the tip of his tongue poked out against his cheek. Taehyung did his best to not flinch at the motion. He knew that little tick; they were all very familiar with it. A boxy smile was flashed at the maknae as Tae turned around to drop his bag into a waiting chair. 

“Jeongguk-ah, don’t be like that.” Tae’s face contorted into a playful pout. He willed the erection away, thinking of all sorts of depressing things. All kinds of unerotic things. He refused to let the echo of her moans stifle his thought processes. Jeongguk gave an errant sniff as Tae moved around him, a clap to the shoulder followed. “I fell asleep in the van. It took them a moment to wake me up.” Tae sighed deeply as he turned on the bathroom faucet. The cold water was a needed wake up call. “...You guys were already here and upstairs. You got a head start.” Jeongguk gave a slight tick of his head. It was the truth. They all arrived and piled from their cars. They were ready for food, showers, and rest. The sweltering heat seemed to make everyone move just that much slower. 

“Y-yeah, I guess it was really hard performing today.” The youngest member pulled up a chair, yanking the top off one of the trays. He sat down, still toweling his hair. There was something that seemed strange, though. Jeongguk couldn’t shake this...scent in the air. Everyone knew he was sensitive to smells, amongst the whole group. Tae let the tension ebb from his shoulders as the maknae changed the subject. 

His hands braced against the sink, the veins throbbing as a flicker of memory set him on edge. Maybe it was the water? Perhaps it was the sudden whiff of her scent stuck in his clothing. His nostrils flared as he remembered what happened in that elevator. His fingers tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants at the sticky residue on his abdomen. Before Jeongguk realized it? The shower thumped on again. “I’m starting without you, Hyung.” 

“That’s fine!” Tae peeled out of his clothes, hopping under the spray of water. He made quick work of cleaning off the heat, and the evidence. He blasted himself with a spray of lukewarm water before stepping out of the shower. The flickers of a wet shower dream threatening to undo him again. Keep it together! He chastised his reflection before wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabbed another draped across his head. A soft sigh announced his presence as Jeongguk smiled up at him. The maknae’s smile faltered a measure as Tae walked by.

Tae toweled his hair fluffing the strands a measure as he looked out of the hotel window. Jeongguk’s eyes narrowed again as he chewed on a bit of steak. “Hyung…” The maknae’s gaze returned to his plate as he went to slice off another piece. 

“...you should come to eat. It’s delicious.” Tae turned to the small table and nodded. He sat down, uncovering the lid on a cup noodle. The noodles were swollen, but it was his fault. Well, technically - it was no one’s fault.

Tae smiled, “Sorry, Gguk-ah. I shouldn’t have kept you waiting.” He stirred the, still hot, contents with a sigh as his body relaxed in the chair. “Ah, food! Finally!” He dared to steal a piece of the maknae’s meat, before slurping noodles right after. “Ahhh! That’s the stuff.” He followed it up with another few pulls from the noodles. He popped the tab on the cola, taking a large gulp. 

He closed his eyes, letting all his favorite things settle in his stomach. Jeongguk watched him, hawklike, as he went through the typical eating theatrics. “So, Hyung..” Tae leaned back, rubbing his stomach with a lazy smile. 

“Mmm?” Tae clasped his hands behind his head. Don’t ask how it happened - but somehow? Taehyung had gotten much taller than the other members - Jeongguk included. It was a creeping few inches, but it was noticeable. Especially when Tae stretched himself out. His left leg was jutting out from under the table as he sighed. 

“I think we’re going to try and go out later,” Ggukie smirked as he watched Tae sprawl. The other man opened an eye as the youngest spoke. The maknae nodded softly, “Yeah, apparently the staff is going to go have a drink or something. I know Jimin wants to go…” Jeongguk looked up at Tae expectantly. 

“I don’t know, Gguk-ah. I’m really exhausted.” Tae frowned softly. “...maybe depending on how much later they go?” Jeongguk shoved another piece of meat in his mouth. 

“That’s up to you, Hyung. I just know that with having the next few days off? Well, the staff is entertaining when they drink.” They both shared a wicked grin. The staff upon realizing they don’t have a schedule for at least two days in a row? They would practically rent out half a restaurant to eat, drink, and laugh. It was the best part to celebrate a job well done! It was nice to laugh while acting as normal as they could. 

Taehyung’s rumbled a deep laugh at the thought. “I don’t know. I might sleep this time.” He grabbed up the cup of swollen noodles, slurping them and the soup down. He stole another piece of Gguk’s steak, slowly this time, he savored it. The cola was grabbed up as his thoughts began to wander. “You’re going to miss out, Hyung,” Gguk smirked at Tae. It seemed as if Jeongguk was trying really hard to convince him. He just didn’t know how much energy he could muster aft- “...you know that all the pretty PD’s will be there.” Jeongguk watched Taehyung’s body tense, their gazes met as the younger leaned across the table.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Tae spoke before taking a sip of his drink. His gaze traveling back toward the window. The cola was settled down as he swallowed hard. Jeongguk’s chin rested on an upturned palm. “Come on, Hyung. We all know you have eyes for that one PD.” Tae’s leg began to bounce under the table, his lips pressed into a flat line. The younger man’s nostrils flared as he watched the other start to unravel. Tae broke into a natural, too quick, smile while waving his hand. “Ah, stop! Why are you like this, Gguk-ah!” He crossed his arms, a playful look to admonish his friend. “All of our PD’s are pretty. I understand that you’re starting to get older…” Tae continued like a father preparing to have the ‘birds and bees’ talk to his son. He kept the mirthful facade going without missing a beat. “...and that girls are strange creatures, but…” “How’d you get that scratch, Hyung?” Jeongguk interrupted him. The smile faded from Tae’s face, confusion settled in. 

“Wh-what ...scratch?” 

“On your shoulder, Tae.” Gguk’s irritation was apparent as the outline of his tongue prodded at his cheek. Tae felt the softest puff as he flared his nostrils. The youngest clasped his fingers underneath his chin. “...it’s very noticeable. I wonder what you did that made someone scratch you like that?” A brow arched in Tae’s direction.

Shit. 

Taehyung sat in the heavy silence as he remembered the moment where she pushed back. When she wrestled control from him, making him scramble for the bars on the wall. When she dug her nails deep into his shoulder as their hips smashed.

“I knew I smelled something familiar,” Gguk smirked. While most of the staff chose clean, fruity scents - there was one staff member who did not. She decided something profound, almost buttery, musky? It was deep, sweet, and lingering. To the point, you could tell where she had been on any given day. There was always a faint trail of it in the air. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was definitely distinctive. 

And Jeongguk got a whole face full of it as Tae disappeared to the bathroom moments ago. Taehyung scoffed softly, his head rolling slightly as his lips pulled back on his teeth. “Jeongguk-ah, she helped me while we were at the studio. So, naturally, you’d smell her on me. I was exhausted, I was slipping, and she tried to help me stand up.” The two traded heavy gazes before Gguk leaned back in his seat. Plausible? Sure. Whether the maknae believed? He gave no indication as his chair pushed back. “You’re right, Hyung. She helps out a lot, so it wouldn’t be too strange for her to lean on us.” Tae’s boxy smile didn’t reach his eyes as Jeongguk placed a hand on his shoulder. The fingers sliding up until Tae’s gaze lifted to the youngest. “You should rest, Tae-Hyung.” That thick silence befitting the deep connection they held, was slightly uncomfortable. Their energies, secrets, swirled like hypnosis between them. Tae coughed, reaching for the rest of his cola breaking the spell frequently picked up by others who watched them together. Jeongguk smirked at the top of the Visual’s head as he avoided his gaze. “I’ll tell the others that you won’t be able to make it.” The maknae sauntered by, the click of the door opening signaling his departure. “Just know you’re not the only one looking at her, Hyung,” Gguk smirked, the door slowly closing on the next phrase. 

“I’ll send you pictures if truth or dare comes up.” The maknae’s chuckle left him suddenly incensed. He waited for a good five minutes before scrambling from his chair. The light in the bathroom flicked on as he turned toward the mirror. And there it was. 

Scratches. 

The angry red welts scattered on both sides of his shoulders like sordid wings. His brow furrowed while fingers raked through his hair. How? And when did sh-

The sweep, dance, and tangle of their lips drowned out the shuffle of fabric. She grabbed the metal bar behind her to hold herself upward. One hand dug into his back as he picked up speed. 

The veins in his arms pulsated as his knees buckled with the flicker of memory.

Her hips undulated as they devoured each other in ravenous kisses.

Taehyung grit his teeth against pushing to a stand. The cold water turned on as he splashed himself vigorously. 

She moaned his name like a sacred prayer to god's long dead.

“Ahh!?” The baritone growl filled the darkness as he turned the lights off. He flopped on the bed with the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The sound of each inhale, and exhale, tore at his nerves. Taehyung closed his eyes and prayed for the dream to come to snatch him again. He wanted to dream about her still. The blood boiled in his veins shooting straight toward his cock. 

“Fuck.” A sound of despair as he turned on his side. A deep breath in, and out, as his eyes closed. The exhaustion caught up with him pulling him into the sincere promise of sleep. For all of forty-five minutes, he slept.

        ….Just know you’re not the only one looking at her, Hyung.

Taehyung’s eyes popped back open as he heard this strange sound filling his ears. He sat up on the bed, letting one hand run over his face. Then he realized that it was the sound of his teeth grinding  -as if it would keep the growl at bay. 

A pair of linen pants paired with a button-down Gucci shirt. A matching belt. A comfortable pair of black loafers. A spritz of the Atelier. A slight tint to his lips. There wasn’t a need to accessorize heavily.

It’s a good thing he didn’t need a mirror. He wouldn’t have recognized his face…

...or the murderous intent darkening his gaze. 

                                                  ...you’re not the only one looking...

[currebunz]

Burn The Candle At Both Ends Ch 5

AO3 Link

The next morning when you awoke, Dabi was gone. The empty side of your bed had been neatly dressed with the duvet. You were tucked in loosely, still nude from the previous night. Your body felt sticky and gross. You felt like showering and washing your bed linen for good measure. Thankfully, today you didn't have to work at the Hero Ranking office, but tonight was another shift at the club. Speaking of work, you hadn't even checked the time.

You checked your phone for the time and noticed Dabi had texted you. At first, you began to think he wanted to cut things off. You dismissed the thought, hoping he sent some mischevious message, like stealing your underwear again. When you opened the messenger, it was neither.

<Good Morning, sorry had work to do.>

Work? Come to think of it. Dabi never told you anything about his life. Granted, you never asked. As you prepared for your shower, you pondered ways to bring up the questions without causing a problem. While the water beat down on you, anxiety hung over your shoulders. What if he has someone already and this is an affair? What if he is a criminal? What if he is just toying with you?

You locked those thoughts deep into your heart. You wanted to believe in Dabi, so you had to trust him. Last night, you could tell something was up with Dabi. You had to talk to him, otherwise, he might not talk about it. As you left the shower, you grabbed your towel while thinking of which question to start with tonight. That is if Dabi showed.

Part of you wondered what would guarantee him to show tonight. A saucy idea crossed your mind. You were naked, dripping wet and skin was probably flushed. With shaky fingers, you did your best to take a 'million dollar' nude. Granted, the towel-covered up part of your face. Basking in its lewd glory, you sent it to Dabi with a bright 'Good Morning'.

You immediately deleted the picture of your phone and dived into your bed again. A rush of excitement and embarrassment shot through you. Doing something like this was well out of your comfort zone. Something about Dabi made you try new things, albeit of the sexual variety. Even so, a change was happening to you as a result of your meeting Dabi.

Your feelings were still foggy as the day burned into the night. As you were preparing for your shift, your phone buzzed with a reply. Without thinking, you checked to see who it was from. Dabi. Of course. You sat down on your bed and took a deep breath. Surely, you were prepared for this. But were you really?

You opened the messenger, noting that he had replied with a photo himself. You scrolled to the image and felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Not only did he reply with a compliment, in Dabi's terms. He had sent you a dick pick of him. His hand was wrapped tightly around his shaft. His cock standing painfully erect and dripping with pre-cum. You were staring too long, suddenly feeling the warmth pool in your core.

<Look what you made me do.>

You swallowed as another idea came to mind. You weren't fully dressed for work yet, lounging around in your underwear at this moment. You hastily tossed your blouse over your shoulder and posed for another nude. You threw in a wink for good measure, feeling more confident about it this time. You sent it quickly, typing out the bait you were setting.

<Come by for a drink and I'll take care of you.>

You cringed a bit, it was so uncharacteristic of you to say something like that. But now you had no doubt Dabi would show tonight. He would definitely come by and not pay for his drinks, which you would add to his tab. He would be at your mercy, allowing you to interrogate him. Then afterward you'd both come back to your apartment and break the bed-

Wait

How are you going to stay focused after all this?

You slipped into the back of the club, the usual entryway for workers. You prepared your counter for the people, setting a towel on the seat you wanted Dabi to choose. It was close to the end, further away from the music. You watched as the people flooded in, your tip jar became stuffed as the orders fired out one by one. Thankfully, you knew most of the orders and could pour and shake as they came. Everyone knew to bring exact change or forfeit the rest as tips. Even heaven had rules.

By the time everyone had their fill, they switched to the cheap "vodka" the tweens sold near the dance floor. You waited patiently, cleaning the counter idly. You saw someone approach the counter out of the corner of your eye. Your palms felt sweaty as you anticipated Dabi. Would he jump straight to sex? Or would he sit down and talk first? You didn't have time to think further, someone was leaning on the counter.

You looked up and held back a grimace. It wasn't Dabi. You could tell why he was leaning on the counter, he was drunk. "Hit me with another..." he drawled out, his head lolling down. 'Or I could just hit you' the sharp glare you gave him had the man sobering up. "We don't let patrons go beyond their limit, help yourself to the cheap stuff" you pointed to the vodka tables. He followed your gaze tiredly, slowly bringing himself back to you. "But I want a drink!" he argued.

You pressed your lips into a fine line. If it's a drink he wanted, then it's a drink you'd give him. You fashioned together one of the special drinks, it was bland as hell and would do the job. "Here, a Zen Star" you slid the round glass to him with a strained smile. The man slapped down a handful of money, which was way over the actual price. You quickly gathered the money and waited for the show. The man downed his drink, dazed by how bland the drink was. The aroma of alcohol set in, the aftertaste hitting him hard.

You smiled as he rushed off to the bathroom, barely able to keep the vomit in. "Thanks for the tip" you hummed to yourself as you pocketed your money. You heard a slow clap from the other end of the bar. Your eyes met Dabi's, a playful glint in them. "That was rather evil of you" he chuckled as he walked over to your side. "It's standard protocol, make them sick so they stop drinking for the night" you explained, drumming your fingers on the counter. "Sadistic and cunning, I like it" Dabi lifted the towel and sat down in the seat you wanted him at. You took the towel from him, rolling your eyes. "It's more logical than letting them drink themselves sick" you defended your case strongly.

"You care an awful lot about your patrons" Dabi leaned on the counter, coming closer to you. "No, I care about not having vomit on my bar" you corrected him. That earned you a dry chuckle. "I want another one of those good drinks" Dabi ordered with a wry smile. "Dabi, I'm going to tell you the name once and I will not make it if you don't say it" you shot him a glare as you prepared his drink. Dabi hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes following you as you went about.

"The drink is called 'Bad Touch'" you bit back a laugh as you said it. Dabi was less amused. "What a shit name for a good drink" he complained. "Yeah, the guy who named it gets slapped all the time" you laughed. You set down a full glass and slid it to Dabi. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the drink. Dabi took a long sip from the glass. "It's what he deserves" he sighed delightfully. You found yourself smiling, the air around you both was light and humorous.

Which made the perfect opportunity. "Dabi, what kind of work do you do?" you asked out of the blue. Dabi cocked a brow, pausing mid drinking. "You left early to do 'work', so what is it?" you asked. Dabi set his drink down, blinking at you slowly. "I'm in a gang," he said so normally you almost laughed. "Okay? Elaborate? Drugs? Weapons?...." you really hoped it was one of those and not one that terrorized women. "No, more like we keep our terf quiet and keep the crazies away" Dabi picked up his glass and resumed drinking. "So I take it 'this' is your terf?" you raised your arms to indicate the club. Dabi shrugged, setting the glass down. "Close enough, I like this part of town" he admitted.

"I'm glad I live in your part of town" you hummed. That wasn't so bad, at least on the surface. Dabi didn't appear to be angry by your questions. Maybe you could get more from him. "What about these?" you leaned on the counter so you could trace your fingers over the wrinkles on his face. Dabi swallowed, it was the alcohol. "Why are you so interested in me?" he raised his hand to press his palm against yours, fingers interlacing together. "Well, you know a lot about me, why can't I be curious about you?" for once, Dabi appeared dumbstruck. It didn't last long, his stoic demeanor returned sooner than you liked.

"You just want to see me naked" he chuckled, releasing your hand. You pouted, resting on your elbows. "I do, but that's not my intention right now" you confessed. Dabi glanced around, he idly fiddled with his glass. "You have secrets you won't tell me, right? Well so do I" Dabi looked off to the side. This wasn't like him, some reason he couldn't look you in the eye. "That's true if I talk then will you?" you offered. It was a dangerous wager, you had your own skeletons you didn't want to share. But, if it meant getting closer to Dabi then it was worth it.

"Only if I get to undress you" Dabi grinned as he downed his drink. Your lips made a thin line, of course, he remembered your texts. "Fine, but there is something I want to try tonight" you compromised on that note. Dabi didn't hide his curiosity. you could see his face light up with excitement. "Deal, your place or?" he nodded upstairs. "My place, wouldn't want someone to interrupt" you gave Dabi a confident wink. It took everything in you to do that one, it was so worth it. Dabi quickly leaned over and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

"Keep that up and I won't make it to your place"

The entire time back, you had to swat Dabi's wandering hands. He took you through a back way, which appeared dangerous at first. Anyone you came by quickly got out the way or went the other direction. You kept your head low, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Dabi stayed close as you headed to your apartment, you figured he was trying not to be spotted either. The second your door shut, you were pressed against the wall. Dabi used one hand to remove your shirt while his other held your shoulder.

"That last picture you sent me nearly made me come here and fuck you until you couldn't walk" he sighed into your ear. You bit your lip, embarrassed by the memory but turned on by his voice. "That's exactly what I was going for" you used your free arm to stroke his crotch gently. "Oh? You were trying to provoke me?" Dabi chuckled. He pulled back, taking your hand and guiding you back to your room. You kicked off your shoes as you went, abandoning them in the middle of the floor.

Dabi ushered you into your room, making you sit on the edge of your bed. "So tell me, what did you want to try?" he asked as his hands roamed your body. You shivered as he slid your blouse off your shoulders. He spent a long time tracing the area of your collarbone. You felt your shirt flutter off, leaving you in your bra and bottoms. "I wanted to try...getting to know you better" you muttered in a low voice. Dabi rested his hands against your chest. He appeared deep in thought as he fondled your breast through your bra. "D-dabi..." your voice wavered, unsure of his response. He hadn't responded, instead, he squeezed your breasts roughly. "Dabi!" you gave him a smack on the head, earning a chuckle from him.

"Sorry, I was really thinking but then boobs happened" he laughed. "But yeah sure, we can" Dabi's hands went behind your back and unclipped your bra. Your breasts fell freely in front of him, soft and supple under his rough touch. "Fine, but I'll only answer what I want to" Dabi argued. As much of a contradiction as it was, it was still progress. "Since we're on the topic, I also wanted to try something" Dabi reached into his coat and pulled out a long candle. You stared at him curiously, urging him to explain before he went any further. He saw your shoulders visibly tensed at the sight of the long, thin candle. "Relax, I'm offering waxplay not a fucking double penetration party" Dabi sighed as handed you the candle.

"I've never really done it before..." you twirled the candle in your fingers. It was light and smelled of sandalwood. "Don't worry about it, I'll do all the work" Dabi reassured you. He placed the candle down and pushed you down on the bed. He kissed you roughly, trailing down your neck. "Strip the rest off while I get the prep materials" he whispered against your skin. As quickly as he came, he left for your bathroom. You began to protest, at what point did he learn your apartments' contents??? But you shook it off. It was better not to worry about it, for now at least.

You sat on the edge of the bed, naked as the day you were born. It wasn't odd to be naked in your home. Nope. But it was unnerving knowing Dabi was slinking about your home. He reappeared after a few minutes, holding a towel balled up in his hands. "Didn't mean to take so long, wasn't sure which towel was okay to use" he deposited the towel onto the bed. It was damp, coddling a bottle of lotion and some bandages. "Why bandages?" you asked. Dabi shrugged, slipping his coat off. "Let's hope we don't have to use them" he laughed darkly.

Dabi took the bottle of lotion and squeezed out a large amount of it on his hand. "Be still" he warned as he started at your legs. He was surprisingly thorough, making it feel like more of a task than sensual. "Oh, it's not a sensual as the movies make it out to be," you said aloud, turning so your back was to Dabi. That was your first mistake. "Oh?" Dabi hummed in a low voice. His lips were so close to your ear, you felt the vibrations. You shuddered as you heard him take breaths, chuckle, and hum as he rubbed your sides down. "Should I take that as a clear to do whatever I want?" Dabi's hands slipped around your waist. He moved up just below your breasts, coating your skin in lotion.

"No..." you watched as his fingers drew tiny circles into your skin, inching up your breasts. "Tch, no fun" Dabi clicked his tongue as he lazily massaged your boobs. Once he was sure your body was ready, he grabbed the towel. "Lay on that, I don't want to hear you whine about a mess later" you did as he instructed, your stomach against the towel. You looked at Dabi, he was holding the candle and watching his arm. "What are you doing?" you asked. "Testing the temperature" he replied coolly. You blinked, bewildered by his statement. The candle wasn't lit, it wasn't even melted already. Dabi's eyes looked over your curious face, smiling wickedly.

"You never did ask about my quirk" he walked behind you, just out of the corner of your eye. Before you could argue, you felt a warm sensation on your back. "Gah!" you jumped as the feeling sent waves across your skin. It didn't hurt, but it felt oddly warm. "Relax, it was only one drop" Dabi scolded you. A few more drops of warmth landed in the middle of your back. You hissed out, trying to calm yourself. "Does it hurt?" Dabi asked, tilting the candle upwards to halt the dripping. "Not particularly..." you sighed out. Dabi was quiet for a moment. What was going on...

You let out a loud moan as you felt warm drops on your lower back. You immediately covered your mouth in embarrassment. "I knew it" you heard Dabi snicker above you. You turned to him with a glare, your eyes catching his hand. A low blue flame emanated from his palm, melting the wax. "It's so pretty," you said without thinking. Dabi used his free hand to turn you forward again. "You haven't asked me anything yet, at this rate the candle will be gone" he pointed out. Oh right, questions.

"W-well, are you dating someone?" you asked nervously. The drips were now going along your back and shoulders, Dabi moved your hair out the way as he went. "Hm, was kinda hoping we were dating but no" he spoke so casually it was almost humorous. "It would help if you actually took me on a date" you complained to him. Dabi smeared the wax on your shoulder as he rubbed his fingers across your skin. "Sure, I know a good place" he sighed. You made a mental note to make him uphold that promise. "Why did you come to the club?" you shivered as he dripped more near your lower back again. Your ass felt hot as he drew circles on your cheeks with the melted wax.

"I was bored, it looked interesting" another plain reply. You felt Dabi push your shoulder with the back of his hand, prompting you to roll over onto your back. You felt drops of wax warm your stomach, running off your sides and to your back. "That's it?" you pressed him for more. "Yeah, I just wanted a drink and that's it" Dabi's eye flickered between you and the candle, he was focusing on not causing an accident. "S-so do you like me?" you blurted out, causing him to drop more dribbles than he wanted to. Your back arched, causing the wax to run along the underside and map out the curve of your breasts. "Hehehe..." Dabi's laugh came out so low you almost missed it.

You didn't like that response. "Dabi" you called out to him, annoyance seeping from his name. "Well, I wouldn't be here if I didn't" he grinned. His hand smeared wax over your breasts, cooling quickly against your skin. "B-but I mean are you fine with me?" you asked again. Dabi halted his movements, staring at you. The flame had been extinguished, the melted candle cooling against Dabi's palm. "I mean I'm sure you could find someone better..." you began. You felt the bed shift, your eye closed in fear of what was to come.

Imagine your surprise when warm lips pressed against yours. Dabi's tongue didn't wait to enter your mouth, aggressively pushing to the back of your throat. Your knees bumped together as your thighs clenched closed. You had already felt yourself becoming aroused, but this kiss was pushing you overboard. Your hands tugged at Dabi's shirt, begging him for air. He didn't move, stealing as much breath as he could from you. Once you began hitting his back, Dabi broke away slightly. Saliva ran from the corner of your mouth as you panted for air. Dabi was breathing heavily too, a trail of saliva connecting to your lips.

"No more questions" he sighed, dropping the candle. You felt two fingers slip into your pussy, scissoring inside you. Your hand grabbed Dabi's wrist, trying to halt him. "S-slow down!" you begged, your legs shaking as he assaulted your core. Dabi's relentless pace did not waver despite your cries. His thumb drew circles into your clitoris, making your body shake in need. "D-dabi! I want you!" you cried out, clutching the towel under you. Dabi lowered his head and kissed you again. He swallowed your pleas and your moans. All you could focus on was Dabi's rhythmic thrust and the wetness pooling between your thighs.

The tight coil of pleasure tugged at you, begging you for release. You tried to hold it back, you wanted to hold it back. But his fingers filled you more than your hands did. The rough callouses felt like fire against your sensitive skin. Dabi's tongue invading your throat set you off. You came hard around his fingers, hips raising and shaking from pleasure. Dabi withdrew from our lips and withdrew his hand. He examined your clear fluids dripping from his fingers. He watched as it leaked from your core, enticing him. "Don't get sleepy on me just yet" Dabi carefully unbuckled his belt and tugged his pants down. You were still coming down from your high, unable to focus as he freed his hard member from its confines.

Dabi shifted you so that your legs dangled off the bed. He grabbed your thighs and lifted them, locking your legs behind him. You felt the head of his cock prod near your entrance. He ground his hips into yours, coating his dick in your fluids. It felt hot and hard, your sensitive skin stung as a reminder of what happened before. "I-I'm still sensitive..." you moaned. Your thighs had Dabi in a vice grip, allowing him to let go and grab your waist instead. "Too bad" Dabi plunged inside you without warning. Your eyeshot open wide in surprise, your mouth open in a silent cry. Your shock was short-lived as Dabi began a ruthless pace. His hips snapped against yours, roughly pushing your body against your bed.

The furniture creaked and crooned, the headboard beating against the wall. "Too h-hard..." you whined out. You clenched your teeth to have some type of grounding for this assault on your body. You could hear Dabi release a shaky sigh, his eyes were closed as he rammed into you with reckless abandon. He groaned loudly above you, he couldn't risk looking at you or he might cum. In the heat of it all, he forgot the damn condom. You didn't seem to notice, otherwise, he assumed you'd have said something. Dabi felt your hands tug at his shirt, hitting him roughly in the chest.

"Here, please" Dabi's eyes shot open hearing you whine softly. "Ha?" Dabi felt himself get harder. Did you mean you wanted...

"Come...here" your fingers curled in a beckoning motion, like a child wanting their favorite toy. Dabi let out a throaty chuckle, he felt silly for thinking such a thing. "Sure" he leaned down and allowed you to wrap your arms around his back. Dabi's face buried into your neck, kissing along the expanse of your skin. Your hands clawed at the thin material of his shirt, feeling his toned back under your fingers. Again, the coil in you tightened with the need for release. You moaned out your warning to Dabi, wanting him to make you cum with his cock this time. Your legs trembled against his body as you climaxed. Dabi continued to thrust into you, ridding out your orgasm until you fell back onto the bed with fatigue.

Dabi quickly pulled out, grabbing his dick roughly to keep himself in check. He released spurts of long, thick cum onto your stomach. He cursed at the sight of it. You were on your back spent, legs parted, skin flushed, cum flowing from you like a damn waterfall, and his thick release on your body.

It was enough to get him hard again.

"Come on" Dabi tugged the towel from underneath you. He used it to clean up the sticky mess from your stomach and between your thighs. You whimpered as he came into contact with your folds. "At least this much is fine" he sighed tossing the towel to the floor. Dabi dropped onto your bed next to you, watching you breathe heavily. "What about me?" he suddenly asked. "Huh?" you gasped, you reached for his hand and held it tight.

"Do you like me?"

You were so tired, your mind was still a mess. Maybe if you had been in a better mind, you'd have used better words. For what you said next, set something off in Dabi.

"I love you"

[discordantplains]

The Records

The first thing on Sonja’s mind when she woke up that morning was whether or not she should put Tucker out of his misery. The second was that she felt bad for her boyfriend. His sniffling and sad, wretched coughs had made finding sleep difficult, but she could only imagine how bad it must have been for him. That didn’t stop her from wishing for some peace and quiet.

When she ended up walking the streets of Ihatchu later, she found herself wishing the opposite. It was dead silent. The sort of silent that made her feel guilty about the sound of her own footsteps for disrupting it. She almost feared getting in trouble for just walking around, expecting Honey to pop up around a corner and drag her away for disrupting the peace. 

To be fair, Honey wasn’t that extreme. After all, they had finished their three days of supervised mining without incident, but she was still really intimidating. Sonja wanted to stay in her good graces. If not for her own sake than for the sake of Tom, who would likely get in trouble and need someone to bail him out. 

But that wasn’t news. Neither was the reason for all this deafening quiet. There was absolutely no one in town. She had noticed that on their initial tour around, and the alternate alternates had mentioned it themselves, but it only stuck out now without her friends clamoring around her. With how big the town was, and all the houses scattered about, there surely had to have been other people who lived here, at some point. 

Where had they gone?

The more she thought about it the more the question tugged at her mind. It wasn’t suspicious by any means, after all what SkeleTom and Mericho mentioned during the day of their tour made sense. But she couldn’t help but feel like there was some sort of twist, like on Ruxomar. If there was a reason that people had left the city there had to be a reason they shouldn’t be here, beyond wanting to be in their own dimension. It seemed safe right now, at least, with Honey and the others.

But still. The people. She should look into why they were gone. As far as she could tell, most of the houses had been empty for a while. Of course, that was only what should could guess from peeking through windows from the street. Not the most reliable method of getting information. Her best bet would be to find a library or see about poking around town records.

If she could remember the tour well enough she should be able to navigate to the library fairly easily.  It was located near the Town Hall, which was right in the town’s center. Or was it in the Town Hall? As long as she found herself in the right area it’d be fine.

It wasn’t long before the sparkling waters of the City Fountain towered before her. The Town Square was by far the most elaborate and extravagant part of the city. However, the Mianite Temple was the least inspiring of the buildings there, though it seemed to be the oldest. Rather, the Town Hall was the most detailed and carefully crafted, with defined pillars that rose at least two stories high and golden accents that curled along edges.

Her eyes roamed over the nearby buildings and down the other streets. None of the buildings jumped out or looked like a library sort. Not that she was expecting large signs pointing to the library saying “Get your free information here! Everything you need to know and more!”, but she was certainly hoping that it was at least be easy to distinguish from the other buildings.

Sonja made her way into the Town Hall. There had to be some sort of information desk in there, at least. 

The foyer featured a two story ceiling that allowed for the upper walls to be lined with windows that let in natural light during the day. Right before the front doors was a long deep blue carpet that led to the front desk. The desk held the allusion of having been used recently; there was a neat stack of papers off to one side in front of a sign in clipboard and a basic computer, as well as a cup of pens and a vase with pale yellow flowers that looked freshly cut.

But if when one looked further a fine layer of dust could be seen settled over everything. Someone had to be cleaning up the area every so often, Sonja surmised, for it to look more put together than the rest of the deserted town. Sonja rounded the side of the desk after giving a quick look around the area.

No one was here.

She carefully flipped through the papers on the desk. Most of them were citizen complaints, a few were asking about changing the stricter rules of Ihatchu, and there was one that was a formal request to be allowed to sell food in the town and be able to compete against Mericho’s market. None of them had any feedback, but they all were dated. If she could figure out what today was, maybe she could start onto how long the city had been empty.

She turned her attention to the computer. A shake of the mouse resulted in nothing. Sonja checked the actual computer for a power button and turned it on. The monitor stayed blank. She rolled her eyes and turned the monitor on as well and quietly sank into the computer chair.

The loading screen processed for a moment. It displayed a waving, random company name and a spinning circle as she tapped her fingers on the desk. 

She wasn’t used to waiting so long for a computer to load. The computers in Ruxomar had clearly been far more advanced. As she looked at the setup, she could see many wires connecting to the bottom of the chunky, box like computer. It looked and felt old. Except, the Town Hall would be the one place you’d want all your tech to be new, right? So this had to have been the latest upgrade.

The actual computer was bigger than her torso.

Yikes.

At least the computer and the monitor weren’t shoved into the same device.

It booted up to a login screen with a friendly series of beeps that made her cringe. The sound felt too loud for the oppressing silence of the room. She took a quick look around again, making sure that no one was coming over to check out the noise. It would be a little embarrassing to be caught rummaging through official town paperwork. Her ears stayed perked up, but she returned her attention to the screen.

As unfortunate as it was to be password locked, it would make sense for the Town Hall computers to be login protected. Sonja shuffled through the drawers hoping that someone wrote down some form of login.

The first drawer had nothing but blank forms and sticky notes. The second had pens, paper clips, and batteries. The next was filled with a space to file away papers, folders shoved inside to the point of barely being able to fit. The last was empty beyond a ring of keys.

Should she take the keys? Obviously they would get her somewhere she wasn’t meant to be. And she didn’t want to get on Honey’s bad side when she’d shown them nothing but hospitality after they dropped by out of the blue. Besides that, weren’t town records normally public access?

Sonja left the keys, reluctantly.

Closing the drawer, she turned back to the drawer full of files. She tabbed through each one, checking the labels for something helpful. ‘Addressed to the Mayor’ -who was the mayor?- ‘Addressed to the Champion of Mianite’, ‘Addressed to the Champion of Ianite’ -this one was falling apart under the amount of papers shoved inside, which Captain Captain likely never looked at- ‘Addressed to the Champion of Dianite’, ‘Pertaining to Rules’, etc. The tabs were mostly boring and unsurprising. It wasn’t until she got to ‘Office Needs’ that she looked into a folder. 

The folder contained mostly lists of supplies they needed shipped in, along with forms to order more, and some notes between offices. She was about to move on when a sticky note barely peeking out from the back slipped forward a little. On it, she could read ‘pas-’ that had to lead to a longer word. She pulled it out.

Bingo.

Neatly written out was a username and password that presumably would let her into the computer. Typing in the information proved her right. A rush of energy ran through her. She was getting somewhere.

Except she couldn’t get into anything else. ‘Staff Database’ was login blocked, ‘Record Retrieval’ was login locked, even ‘Building Layout’ was login locked! Sonja pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting sick of passwords and usernames.

She rolled her head. Her eyes trailed over the desk again. They settled on the papers. Or rather, the dates on them. She checked the date on the computer. Twice. Then she checked to make sure the computer was connected to the internet and had updated the date recently.

The paperwork was from three months ago at the most recent.

Three whole months. Did that mean that no one but the alts lived here in that time? No. But was it weird that no one had any paperwork pass through the town hall? Absolutely.

Her tail flicked back and forth for a moment.

It was time to dig deeper.

She powered off the computer- and the monitor- and placed the sticky note back in its folder before shutting all the drawers. It was probably better to keep everything how she found it. She didn’t want to get yelled at for making a mess.

Sonja took a glance outside. The sun was high in the sky. The computer had said that it was about noon. She had time.

She turned the chair back towards the desk as she got up. The carpet ended after the desk, leading to polished hardwood that had a simple pattern running along it. Right after the front desk was a split set of stairs that led up, each with a hallway that went underneath them. There were signs before the stairs that read ‘Staff only’. The hallway underneath had signs that read ‘Offices and Meeting Rooms’. 

She went upstairs.

None of the rooms seemed useful- the ones that did were locked.

Sonja checked the ground floor.

Besides the mayor’s office and some public relations rooms -which were, of course, locked- there wasn’t much useful there either. Lovely.

At the end of the hall was a set of stairs leading down. She peered around the corner to try and see where they lead. Most places put their valuables in the basement, right? Maybe the records room was down there.

Her footsteps echoed painfully in the small space, but the staircase was blessedly short. When she finally made her way to the next floor, her heart surged. Nearly immediately to her left was the very room she had been searching for. Even better, she found the door inside was unlocked!

She made her way inside, but stopped short. Where the rest of the empty building had been mostly undisturbed and nearly immaculate, the inside here was messy and looked more lived in.

Someone had been here recently.

Footsteps sounded from the stairs. Sonja backed out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. She didn’t want it to look like she was snooping through someone’s research. 

Her head turned towards the stairs just as the person moved into her sight.

Honey.

The stoic woman raised her chin and narrowed her eyes, but her ears perked in a way that betrayed her stern look. She was startled to see Sonja here. Sonja tried her best to look relaxed and keep her body posture casual.

“You shouldn’t be down here.” Honey stepped closer to her, eyes looking between the room Sonja had only just vacated and back to her.

With a sheepish expression, Sonja did her best to cover for herself. “Sorry,” she brought a hand up to rub the back of her neck. “I really should have asked before coming down here. I was looking for the library so that I could study up on the town’s history and figured the Town Hall might be an ok place to look. I couldn’t find the library.”

Honey relaxed ever so slightly. “Ah. I can escort you to the library, if you wish. This area of the Town Hall is off limits to citizens.” She curtly explained.

Sonja perked up at that. “Oh, that’d be great! I didn’t mean to wander into a place I’m not allowed, I just figured that there might be a library down here? That sounds kinda silly now that I say it out loud, but generally town information would be kept in the Town Hall, right?”

Honey nodded. “Generally, yes. You’re more likely to find town records, which is-”

“Off limits to citizens?” Sonja finished for her. The corner of Honey’s mouth quirked upwards. She nodded.

“In any case,” Honey started again. “If you follow me, I’ll show you to the library. Was there anything specific in mind that you were looking for? You mentioned the town’s history, but what about the history are you interested in?”

The two briskly made their way back up the steps.

“I’m mostly interested in why it was founded, and how long it's been around. Did it start as a small village that grew, or was it planned to be this large?” Sonja queried, sending a glance towards the front desk to see if it had been disturbed by Honey. Everything was as she left it. Good. “The streets and blocks definitely seem planned. It’s all very meticulous.”

“You are correct in that assumption. This city was made for the gods. Or, rather, the champions of the gods were given the task of building the city. It was meant to be a show of peace between them.” Honey held the front doors open for Sonja, closing them tight as they passed through.

“Meant to be?” Sonja inclined her head to look back at Honey.

“It still is. The gods have been at peace for some time now.” Honey left no room for argument in that statement.

Sonja hummed. That crossed out the gods as a reason for the town’s residents leaving.

“That’s good to hear,” Sonja flexed her fingers. “In my universe, the gods were seldom at ease with each other. Well, there were times of ‘peace’,” she pulled her fingers up to make air quotes around ‘peace’, “but never any real sort of peace. Mostly just that tense, calm before the storm type of thing.” Until Dianite died. But she wasn’t about to start on that story with Honey. She didn’t want to distract her from the little bit of information she was giving her.

Honey spared her a glance. “A shame. You’ll be able to enjoy the peace while you’re here, at least. I’ve made it my personal objective to make sure no one steps out of line.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Sonja gave her a kind smile. “You seem to be doing a fantastic job. Other than Captain Captain getting a little forward, I feel like anyone would feel plenty safe here.”

A dark look passed over Honey’s face for a brief moment. “If Captain Captain ever causes you trouble, let me know. I’ll have another talk with him.” Her face smoothed back out into her typical stoic, but also sort of stern, expression. “We want you all feel that you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“We appreciate that. I doubt we’ll stay too long, though. We’re all itching  to get home.” Sonja thought back to the day before, when Honey stayed back to talk to Captain Captain. Again, she pondered the stress of keeping him in line.

Honey shifted the conversation to talk her through getting to the library while they made their way towards it. When they got close, she pointed it out. It was very unassuming and humble. The building itself was fairly plain and only two stories high. Though the front featured a few pillars and big, clear windows that showed numerous bookshelves, it was easy to mistake it for any other building.

“Here you are. Let me know if you need anything else.” Honey cast a look in her direction, eyes narrowed. “And don’t go places you don’t belong. Ask me if you are unsure. Good day, Sonja.”

With that, Honey turned around and headed back towards the Town Hall. Her words left Sonja a bit unsettled. The last bit had sounded a little more threatening than she felt was warranted. But maybe Honey had to be that harsh to get certain people to fall in line.

She trusted that Honey was just doing her best to keep them safe.

~~~

Sonja researched late into the day. The first few hours weren’t all that useful. To start, she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. Surprisingly, the ‘History’ section was rather small. Most of what she found wanted to talk about the world as a whole, rather than the town. She had parsed through a number of books that talked about great events of gods and their respective civilizations, and wars and battles, and even milestones in advancement of technology and such. The most recent ‘technological revolution’ was the simplification of making computers, which greatly assisted in further research of making computing easier and cheaper. It ended with a picture of nearly the exact model of computer she’d seen in the Town Hall.

This was a far cry from what she was looking for.

She found more luck, amusingly, in the ‘Divinity and Gods’ section. This particular section took up nearly half of the bottom floor. That should have made sense, in hindsight. Honey had told her that the city was made for the gods, or something like that. It probably would have been better to start here in the first place.

Most of what Honey said held true: The city was made in the gods’ interest and glory, but not all the champions were told to make it. In fact, Captain Captain did rather little in helping ‘build’ it, so much as he just showed up one day because Ianite told him to. According to the first book she found- which had only taken breaks from talking about how great and glorious Mianite was, and how his good grace and humble justice was the shining light of the realm to talk about Ihatchu ‘a city that reflected his most glorious self’- most of the work was lead by Honey. Of course, that was the most biased book she’d ever read.

And she’d read some of Dec’s books on the gods.

When she cross researched, she found that the city was founded more on an agreement between various higher up followers of the gods and, surprise surprise, wizards. Pretty typical. What she found out as more interesting was that the town was founded roughly 10 years ago.

That was longer than she had been found herself in the land of Mianite.

The history of the town that she could scope out was mostly uneventful. Strange. Most of the books didn’t report much in the last two years, and those that did hadn’t really gone into the sudden drop in citizens.

To say that she was frustrated was an understatement.

Sonja was ready to give it a rest for the day when she noticed a piece of paper sticking out from one of the books she had pulled. There was a pile of books she hadn’t gotten into yet, mostly because she was trying to compile some sort of notes on the history of Ihatchu. It was time consuming.

She pulled the book out from the stack and flipped to the page the paper was stuck in. The chapter she found herself in was on some basic stuff about Ihatchu she’d already read about. The paper, however, was not related to the chapter. It read, ‘What is happening to everyone?’.

That was unsettling.

Did something happen? Sonja tapped her fingers on the book cover. How recent was the note? What was it referring to? Had people been going crazy? Had they been dying? The note only raised more questions.

She carefully folded the note and put it in her pocket. A glance outside told her the sun was going down soon. It would be best to give it a rest for today.

Sonja took what books she had finished going through to a book return cart- though she doubted anyone would come around to put them away any time soon- and made sure the books she wanted to read later were neatly stacked on the table she had claimed.

When she got back to the bed and breakfast she took the time to go over her notes. Ihatchu was made for the gods. It had been a big draw for people of all faiths, and was at one point a very populated- and popular- town. During the ten years it's been founded, it has seen only peace between the gods.

And, at some point, something happened to the people.

Not the most useful information, but better than not knowing anything. Maybe she could check for newspapers or journals to see if there were any local coverage of strange things. That could give her a better lead.

For now, she ought to get some sleep.

~~~

The sound of Tucker dying greeted her long before the sunrise did. Beautiful. She stayed in bed for a moment, lamenting on her lost sleep. Honestly, it would be so easy to go over to Tucker’s bed and put a pillow over his face and-- She sighed. Murder was not the answer.

Sonja pressed her pillow over her head. What were the chances she could get at least another hour of sleep? 

A hacking cough from Tucker told her there was a very small chance.

She begrudgingly got dressed. Jordan’s bed was empty. Still. A quick peek downstairs showed him slouched over his work. Of course.

Sonja made her way outside, giving a nod to Wag who had started to wake up. He blinked sleepily at her.

The walk to the library was as quiet as ever. Empty town, empty streets, empty houses. The question echoed in her head: Where did they go? She really hoped that there was something in the library to point her in the right direction.

As she passed a smaller street, stretching her arms far above her head, getting a satisfying few pops from her spine, light caught her eye. It was outside the town. The lights she had seen on her first day. They sparked her curiosity. 

Maybe she would check them out later.

For now, she was off to the library.

When she got there she set off to find a section of old newspapers or journals. Which was harder than she thought. Unsurprisingly, there was a bigger focus on actual books than newspapers. It was annoying, but she persisted.

She went through the ‘Restoration’ section- which was mostly old or ancient books- the ‘Documents’ section, and the ‘Other’ section. Not a single newspaper or journal. Not a single one! And there wasn’t a section for either of those.

Her luck finally paid off when she found a room in the back called ‘Periodicals and Associated Clippings’. Inside she found what she assumed to be all of the libraries storage of newspapers, journals, and some other graphic material.

Score.

Sonja set to work sorting through all of the papers. Most relayed typical news- the weather, general town information, more significant weddings, any recent crimes- but a few caught her eye.

They had increasingly larger sections on families leaving town and people dying. Not that people were getting murdered once a week, but over the course of months the rate climbed. There was no linkage to who was committing the murders- though there was a particular Captain that she could guess played a role in the event- but it definitely seemed like something that would drive people away.

It lined up with what the alts squared had told them, after all.

Was that the reason? A slow increase in murder? Surely with Honey and other Mianitees around, that shouldn’t have been such a big issue?

She thought back to the note. It was unhelpfully vague, but maybe that’s what made it interesting. Surely if Captain Captain- and Ianite- was the only reason for everyone leaving then it wouldn't have been that vague at all. 

Maybe she was just used to Ruxomar, and how there was always something more going on than it seemed. 

Her thoughts were broken off when she stumbled upon a very familiar name in an article. ‘Local engineer missing after strange accident in his home just outside of town.’ The engineer? None other than the man who got them out of Ruxomar: Deviser Gaines.

The lights outside the city came into mind. Was that his house? Better yet, was he here? It was way too coincidental for them to end up in Deviser Gaines’ dimension after going through a portal he made for him to not end up here.

That, or it was some extreme form of irony on both their parts.

Nevertheless, it was worth it to go check out that house, now that she had seemingly reached a dead end. That wasn’t to say that there was necessarily anything more to it but Deviser Gaines might have more information for her. His ‘disappearance’ had happened in the thick of people leaving.

It gave her a break from sitting around all day, at the very least. Her stomach growled as she stood up. Maybe it would be good to stop by the bed and breakfast for some food, too.

The sun was about halfway to the horizon when she stepped outside. A gentle breeze was making its way between the buildings. For all the eeriness of Ihatchu being empty, it was such a beautiful town. Truly fit for the gods.

Things had to have been bad for all those people to leave.

But that didn’t mean things were bad now. The people here were more than kind- other than Captain Captain, but even he wasn’t that big of a nuisance. The open plains made her miss her home, though. All of the space reminded her of the budding civilization of Mianite, and how it felt like the whole world was at your fingertips. It would be a relief to be away from established cities after all the trouble in Ruxomar.

When she got back to the bed and breakfast she went downstairs to check their chests for food- and to check on Jordan. He was busy getting everything set up for their portal home and barely spared her a glance and a welcoming smile before returning to his work. A bag of cookies sat next to him.

“I hope you’ve been eating something other than cookies all day, Mr. Sparklez,” Sonja teased him, lightly nudging him in the side with her foot. “Wouldn’t want you to go on a sugar rush and crash in the middle of your work.”

Jordan glanced at the cookies. “I mostly forgot they were there.” He raised his eyes to her. “Though I have been snacking on them a little here and there.” He pushed his arms out in front of him in a stretch. “How have you been?”

Sonja shrugged, shuffling through her chest. “Oh ya know. Busy, yet not. I’ve been looking into the town history and stuff. Trying to figure out why there’s no one here but our alternates.”

Jordan’s head jerked towards her. “There isn’t?” He pondered that for a moment. “I guess I remember SkeleTom mentioning it.”

She gave him a fond eye roll. “You’ve been cooped up down here a while.” She pulled a few pieces of hard bread and a couple pieces of meat. Typical plain jane style of food, and not much of it. They’d have to find something more to eat pretty soon. 

“Did you want any of these?” Sonja turned her head to see Jordan gesturing at the bag of cookies by his side. “SkeleTom dropped them off earlier. There’s more here than I think I’ll eat.”

Taking a considering look at the cookies, then to her own food, and back again, she nodded. “It’d be nice to have something a little more edible in my palette. Did you want any of this?” She waved the food in her hands around.

Jordan’s nose wrinkled. “No thanks. I think I have some in my chest anyway. That is, if Tom didn’t steal it.” He rolled his eyes.

She sent him a smirk. “Ah, the ways a zombie shows you he cares.” Sonja laughed as he groaned. “I’m going to check out something I saw outside town. You’re welcome to come with me, if you fancy a little stretch o’ th’ legs.”

Jordan snorted at her eyebrow wiggle. “No thanks. If I’m feeling a little fresh air later, though, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright then,” Sonja carefully stole a couple cookies from him. “I’ll be off then.”

~~~

It was close to dusk by the time she got out to the edge of town. The sun was just starting its decent, washing the tips of the prairie grasses a lovely shade of gold.

Her first obstacle was the fence. Strangely enough, there was only one working exit/entrance to Ihatchu, and that was the one they had stumbled upon. All the others, for one reason or another, were ‘closed’. Weird.

She walked around the inside of it a bit just to double check. But when she went to go out past Mericho’s farm, his dogs followed her. It was unsettling. Though they stayed along the edge of the farm, it was clear they were watching her. She even put in the effort to put space between her and the farm, trying to show them she wasn’t going to do anything to their land.

They still followed her.

Maybe it was the fox in her telling her that having dogs- hunting dogs no less- keep track of her every move sending off alarm bells. Except, the human part was equally as unnerved.

So she chose to climb the fence.

While the fence wasn’t all that high- it only came up to her shoulders- she had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to climb over it.

Oh well.

Sonja had made it halfway over when the sound of paw steps grabbed her attention. She swiveled around. One of Mericho’s dogs stood just a few feet away, ears upright and angled in her direction. When she moved to get all the way over the fence, it let out a low growl. 

She pulled her foot back. The growling stopped. She put it down again. It growled louder and took a step forward. Sonja slowly descended the fence to stand on the opposite side of the dog. With a sniff, it stood down, watching her.

Fine then, she’d just go find a different fence to climb.

Sonja made her way through the streets, pondering how far she would have to go to escape their sight. Near the north gate, one of Mericho’s dogs stopped her again. On the exact opposite side of the farm. Alright, maybe he had followed her around.

She went back to where she first tried to get out, weaving her way through the city to try to confuse them if they were looking for. When she got back to it, not only was the dog there again, another one had joined.

Drat.

Instead, she weaved through the city again, ducking down smaller roads, getting a little lost, finding the town square, and making her way over to the opposite side of where she’d seen the lights.

What did she find? One of Mericho’s. Stupid. Dogs.

“Screw it,” Sonja mumbled to herself. She was going to get on the other side of the fence.

Her foot had only just touched the ground when the dog lunged at her, teeth bared. In a quick movement, she threw herself back towards the town, narrowly avoiding a bite to her ankle.

Okay. Fine. She’d just have to come up with a better plan.

Stupid, smug looking dog.

| ABOUT | CHARACTERS | PLOT |

[psychosistr]

A Playful Spark- Chapter 2, Early Adulthood

Summary: Jack deals with the awkward age of transitioning from being a teen to a young adult while also helping Elmo deal with bullies in a...mildly threatening way.

Notes: Just in case it wasn’t clear in the first chapter, the age gap between these two is roughly seven years.

-First Chapter-

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

~Age 18~

Jack rounded a street corner while drawing in his well-worn toy design notebook. It was the latest in a very long line of books that he carried with him everywhere until he would eventually use the last page and, like the others, leave it sitting on the bookshelf in his room for later reference. He couldn’t wait until he finished high school so he could focus on his toy-making full time, already eagerly counting down the days until graduation.

Today he’d decided to swing by one of his favorite burger joints on the way home from school for a snack, hardly paying attention to where he was going.

That is, until a familiar voice caught his attention…

“Hey, give it back!” The voice of his best friend yelled in frustration.

“Ha! Why don’t’cha come an’ get it, wimp!” Another voice teased, followed by a chorus of laughter from a couple other voices.

Jack scowled and snapped his notebook closed, looking around for the source of the voices. He soon spotted them in the park across the street:

Elmo, now standing slightly taller at 11 years of age, was surrounded by a group of boys who looked close to the same age as him but were MUCH taller than the scrawny rat. Elmo was currently trying to reach his backpack, which was being held up high above his head by a pig-boy that just laughed at the smaller kid’s troubles.

With the other kids distracted laughing at Elmo’s vain attempts at retrieving his belongings, Jack decided it would be fun to get a little payback on his friend’s behalf. He reached into his backpack to pull out the appropriate supplies and snuck around behind the group of kids using the trees as cover.

The pig holding Elmo’s bag laughed as he roughly shoved the smaller kid backwards onto the ground. “Haha! What a loser!”

Elmo frowned at the taller kid and tried to get up. “I am NOT a loser!” He countered, but was just shoved back down once again.

The other kids laughed at Elmo more and started to join in on the fun of shoving the meeker kid around, when a loud bang and some of the dirt nearby being kicked up caught their attention. “?!!!!”

There were a few more bangs, all hitting in different spots around the group and terrifying the pre-pubescent children.

Elmo looked between the kids in front of him and saw a familiar figure stepping out from behind one of the trees. “Jackie!”

Jack smirked, holding what looked like a gun in his hand as he walked casually up to the group. “Hey there, kiddies. Having fun?” He walked right up to the pig, easily towering over the younger boy. “So, you like picking on kids smaller than you? What a coincidence!” He grinned and giggled manically, raising the gun so that it was pressed under the quivering pig’s jaw. “So do I.”

The other kids screamed and ran away in fear from the apparently deranged duck. “AAAAAH!!!!”

“Now, how ‘bout you be a pal and give my little buddy his stuff back, hm?” He asked, his thumb pulling back the hammer of the revolver.

“O-O-Okay!!” The pig readily agreed, dropping the bag so Elmo could grab it while he stood up.

Jack looked at Elmo with a devious grin. “I dunno, Mo, whattaya think? Should we let him off with a warning this time?”

Elmo chuckled, easily able to tell what Jack was planning. “Nah, I think you should pull the trigger.”

The pig’s eyes widened in alarm as he looked between the two desperately. “N-No, please! Don’t! I-I-I’ll do anything!”

“Anything, huh?” Jack inquired with a raised brow. At a fervent nod from the scared boy, Jack smirked. “Okay, fine. We’ll let y’ go if you say something for us.”

“W-What is it?” The pig swallowed down his nerves, sweating bullets by now.

“Saaaayy..” Jack grinned more. “ ‘I’m all washed up’.”

“I’m..I’m all washed up..?” The pig repeated back, confusion momentarily breaking through the terror.

To the pig’s shock and surprise, Jack pulled the trigger on the gun but, instead of a bullet hitting him and ending his life, the kid found himself being sprayed with a stream of water.

“You sure are!” Jack yelled, laughing hysterically as he shoved the pig over and grabbed Elmo by the hand to make a hasty retreat.

Elmo held onto the duck’s hand tightly and followed his lead, chuckling the whole way.

Once they were far enough from the park, Jack stopped to the put the squirt gun away in his backpack and Elmo finally saw the small bag of firecrackers in the front pocket.

“Ah, so that’s how you did it..” He muttered while getting a chance to put his own bag back on his shoulders. “Thanks for the help, Jackie.”

“Eh, don’t mention it- I know what kids are like at that age.” Jack said, slinging his pack over one shoulder once everything was safely tucked away. He looked back at Elmo with his usual smile and nodded his head in a “follow me” motion as he started walking away. “C’mon, let’s grab a bite at Hungry Harry’s.”

“Sure.” The younger rat followed his friend’s lead without hesitation. “As long as I’m home by five.”

Jack snorted a bit in a failed attempt to suppress a laugh. “Seriously? You’re STILL grounded?”

“Yeeaaaahhh..” Elmo heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “It was just a blown circuit breaker- you think they’d get over it by now…”

Jack shrugged, giving his friend a sympathetic pat on the back. “You know how adults are: They always say ‘Be creative!’ or ‘Try new things!’, but the moment you set the bathroom on fire it’s all ‘What the heck were you thinking?!’ this and ‘Trying to make glow in the dark water doesn’t count as a science experiment!’ that.” He pitched his voice to resemble Elmo’s mother at the appropriate quotes.

Elmo couldn’t help but smile at the bad impression, snickering quietly with a shake of his head. “It would’ve worked if our electrical grid wasn’t so faulty!” Their conversation stopped briefly when they reached their destination, the pair stepping up to the counter to order an extra-large helping of fries to split and two chocolate milkshakes, Jack picking up the tab despite Elmo’s protests. After they got their junk food, the two found a bench nearby to sit on and eat their snack. “Hey, Jackie,” Elmo began to say around a few fries with a tiny dab of ketchup on them. “I just thought of something.”

“Should I get the rubber gloves and bleach?” Jack asked while tearing open five packets of ketchup at once and drowning his half of the fries in the red sauce.

“No, not this time.” Elmo took a sip of his milkshake and swallowed before continuing. “I was just thinking: You’re practically a grown up now.”

Jack gave a dramatic gasp and pointed a soggy, ketchup-coated fry at Elmo as if it were a knife. “Bite your tongue! How DARE you accuse me of such a thing!” He placed his other hand to his chest and looked away with a pout. “I am NOT a grown up.” He stated defiantly.

Elmo rolled his eyes a little and moved some of his fries away from the red-swamp that had claimed Jack’s share. “I mean..you kind of are: You’re legally able to drive and vote now. You’re almost done with school. You started telling people to call you ‘Jack’ instead of ‘Jackie’-”

“You still call me Jackie.” Jack corrected, grabbing a messy handful of what was mostly tomato paste with some potato in the mix by this point and shoving it in his mouth.

“You never told me to stop.” Elmo grabbed one of his fries, but hesitated right before he brought it to his mouth. “Did you..um..want me to..?”

Jack paused mid-chew to think the question over. He’d started telling people to call him Jack over the past year just because it felt natural to do so, as if calling him Jackie made him seem TOO young somehow. Pretty much everyone had shifted over to it without too much fuss, but, thinking about it, he really had never asked Elmo to do the same.

“Hmm..” He swallowed down the tomato-potato mush and gave Elmo a grin. “Nah.” He finally answered with a shake of his head. “It’s okay if it’s you.”

“You sure?” The young rat asked, the frown on his face easily telling Jack that the kid was worried that Jack was just placating him.

“Yep. I think ‘growing up’ is just a mental thing- if I try hard enough to avoid it, then I can live to be a million and still never be an adult.” He put his arm around Elmo’s shoulders to comfort him, looking him in the eyes with a sincere smile. “You’re my best friend, Mo, and you’ve called me Jackie since we met. So, if you keep calling me that,” Jack reached up with the hand around Elmo’s shoulders and playfully smeared a streak of ketchup across the rat’s cheek. “Then it kinda feels like I don’t have to grow up!” He laughed at the startled look on his friend’s face, nearly falling off of the bench with the force of his laughter.

“Aaagh! Don’t do that!” Elmo complained, wiping at the ketchup in an attempt to get it out before it stained his fur. “You’re such a jerk..”

He glared at the chuckling duck before a smirk lit up his face and he popped the top off of his milkshake cup. Dipping a few fingers into the cold, sticky liquid, he retaliated by leaving a glob of it right on Jack’s beak. He even placed it close enough that it tickled his sinuses and made him sneeze- actually making him fall off the bench for real that time.

Jack sat up and wiped his hand over his beak, forgetting that it was still coated in ketchup until he crossed his eyes to see all the red now visible across his bill. He stared at it quietly for a moment before he burst into a fit of laughter again, Elmo joining him this time.

The two laughed and laughed until they were breathless and holding their aching sides with quiet giggles. Deciding to be the one to offer a truce first, Elmo offered his chocolate-covered hand down to Jack so he could pull himself up onto the bench. Jack grinned and took it with his own chocolate and tomato covered digits, pulling himself up until he was seated next to Elmo once again.

As they sat together and finished their less-than-healthy snacks, Jack regarded his best friend with a quiet smile. He may have been unable to resist ruining such a nice moment earlier, but he meant what he said:

Elmo was the only one who could still call him Jackie, and he could continue to do so for the rest of time, for all Jack cared.

~Age 21~

Jack heaved a taped-up box up into the back of his beat-up old mini-van (a hand-me-down from his parents), taking a moment to wipe the sweat off of the feathers on his face using his shirt. He mentally checked off the boxes loaded into the car to make sure he had everything.

Personal toys and toy prototypes? Check.

Notebooks? Check.

Clothes? Check.

Framed pictures? Check.

Best friend hiding in the backseat? Check.

…Wait, what was that last one?

Craning his head to see past a pair of boxes, he spotted the familiar bob of brown hair ducked down in the floorboards between the front and back seats. With an amused grin and a quiet chuckle, Jack ripped a piece of excess packing tape off and slowly made his way around to the driver’s side of the car. He opened the door to the front seat, got in, checked his mirrors, and looked like he was about to start the car and drive off…

Before he turned around while pretending to check the road behind him and slapped the tape on the back of the crouching rodent’s neck.

“Ack!” Elmo yelped at the sudden contact and sat up. “Jackie!” The thirteen-year old rat glared at his friend and rubbed at the spot the tape was stuck to. “Was that really necessary?”

“Probably not, but it WAS fun.” Jack grinned, reaching back and offering the boy a hand climbing up to the passenger seat over the center-console. “So, practicing your mime routine by pretending to be a box?”

Elmo took the offered hand and climbed over so he was sitting next to Jack in the passenger seat. “Mhm. I figured if I blended in with the rest of your junk, you wouldn’t notice.” He reached behind his neck and began plucking at the strip of tape stuck there in an attempt to remove it.

Jack leaned one elbow against the steering-wheel as he watched his best friend’s struggles with an amused smile. “Hate t’ break it to ya, Elm-tree, but you’re a bit too big for that.”

“Yeah, I know..” The rat winced slightly when he finally managed to rip the tape off, relieved to find that he only removed a few bits of fur and one strand of hair. There was a moment of tense silence after he balled up the tape and threw it towards the back to be picked up some other time. He scooted forward in his seat and crossed his arms on the dash, looking out the front windshield at the driveway in front of them. “…It’s gonna be weird not having you across the street anymore…” His face was calm and neutral, but Jack could easily pick up the slight quiver to his voice when he spoke.

“Yeah..” Jack agreed, looking out at the driveway as well. “It’s gonna be weird for me, too.” He turned his head back to look at Elmo with a smile, though it was a bit more forced than his usual grins. “Look at the bright side- at least we don’t have to listen to our folks bitch at us for flashing morse-code at each other every night.”

“Mh, I don’t think my flashlight would reach that far..” Elmo tipped his head to the side as he thought something over. “Unless I gave it a few upgrades..I did want to try out that new fusion battery on something..”

Jack chuckled quietly and nodded his head in approval. “Hey, if it works you can make one for me and we’ll blind pilots every time we flash each other.”

“..Yeah..I guess so..” Elmo leaned his head against his arms on the dash with a slight frown, growing quiet again.

Jack saw the beginning traces of tears in his friend’s eyes and sighed in fake-annoyance. “Aw geez, don’t you get started or you’re gonna get me goin’, too. Was already bad enough dealing with mom and dad..” He reached over and wrapped one arm around the smaller rat’s shoulders to pull him into a hug, resting his chin on top of the other’s head. “It’s not like I’m movin’ out of town. Hell, the bus ride only takes like half an hour- and half that much in a car!”

“I know..” Elmo said quietly around a sniffle. “It’s just..weird..it’s been ten years and now..now I gotta get used to you not being..HERE..”

Jack could feel the small traces of water soaking through his shirt, but he ignored it in favor of holding the rat a bit tighter. “..It’ll be weird for me too, Mo..”

They stayed like that for a while, Jack rubbing comforting circle’s over the other boy’s back as he cried quietly into the duck’s chest. Jack almost joined him, but just barely managed to keep himself together.

Finally, the shudders going through Elmo’s body calmed down and he sat up straight again. He took a second to wipe the long sleeve of his shirt over his face before looking up at Jack again. “Promise you’ll talk to me on the phone?”

Jack smiled softly and playfully ruffled the rat’s hair. “Even if your parents get sick of me and try to block my number.” He smiled more when his friend finally smiled up at him. “And you better believe you’re coming by for sleepovers and hangin’ out: We’ll be able to stay up as late as we want, eat junk food at three in the morning, and watch all the bad movies we can stomach without any stupid grown-ups around to catch us!”

“You mean besides you?” Elmo countered with a small smirk.

Jack gasped in mock-offense and shoved the younger boy away. “You come into MY car and insult me in such a way!” They grinned at each other and laughed for a moment before Jack gave Elmo’s shoulder one last affectionate squeeze. “I’ll call ya tonight after I get settled in, alright?”

“I’ll make sure dad doesn’t block your number until then.” Elmo responded, giving the duck one last hug before getting out of the car. “Later, Jackie.” He closed the door behind himself and waved goodbye as he took a few steps back from the car.

Jack waved back to him before he backed the car out of the driveway. As he drove down the street, he glanced in the rear-view mirror.

He watched as the only home, and best friend, he’d ever known got smaller and smaller until they were both out of sight.

True to what he said, the trip to his new apartment down-town was only a fifteen minute drive away (give or take, depending on traffic). His furniture had already been moved in earlier, saving him the trouble of hauling everything up to the second floor himself. It did take him a while to get all of his belonging’s moved in, though, and even longer to unpack the essentials he’d need (toothbrush, a couple dishes, his night clothes, and some toys and journals to keep him occupied when he got bored of TV).

He finally grabbed the phone set up in the living room and sprawled out on his stomach on the couch while eating some chocolate muffins his mom had made him as a moving-out present. The phone rang a few times before someone eventually picked up.

“Hello?” The gruff older voice answered.

“Hey, Mr.S- it’s Jack. Elmo free?” He asked before scarfing down one of his muffins.

“Yeah, hold on.” He heard the older man calling Elmo’s name, followed by a quiet conversation a moment later.

“Hello?” Elmo said after a minute.

“Hey, pip-squeak. How’s my favorite mad-scientist?” Jack asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, hey, Jackie.” He was trying to sound casual, but Jack grinned when he could practically hear the smile in the kid’s voice. “We just finished dinner. How’s moved-out grown-up life going?”

Jack narrowed his eyes in warning, even though he knew the rat couldn’t see it. “Don’t make me drive back down there just to pour water on your condenser.” He warned before rolling over onto his back, head settled back on the arm-rest. “Honestly, it’s pretty boring so far. All I’ve done is move boxes, open boxes, and pull stuff out of, you guessed it, MORE boxes.” He grabbed another muffin from the coffee table. “But, I guess it’s not ALL bad- I get to have chocolate for dinner and no one can stop me!” He giggled and bit his muffin in half.

Elmo giggled a bit too. “Keep thinking like that and you’re gonna be too fat to fit in your car within a month. I can see it now- you’ll stop talking to people and we’ll all go over to find you stuck in your doorway because you gained over three hundred pounds.”

Jack laughed more as he imagined what it would be like to suddenly put on that much weight. “Even when I get out, you’ll have to roll me down the stairs like a big squishy ball of death!”

The pair laughed and talked about anything and everything that came to their minds well into the night. They discussed Elmo’s science fair project (that self-illuminating light bulb sounded pretty cool already), new toy designs Jack had come up with earlier in the week (he made a note to add giant squishy putty balls to his book later), and the ventriloquist show Jack had seen on TV when he took a break from unpacking earlier.

Truthfully, they were dragging out the conversation because neither of them wanted to stop talking to the other anytime soon. They grasped onto every possible topic they could find, making it last for hours.

After a while, though, Jack heard the muffled, distant voice of Elmo’s mother saying something to him. “Okay, mom..” Elmo said at a slight distance from the phone before he returned to it with a sigh. “I gotta go- mom wants me to go to bed.”

Jack looked at the clock on his VCR and noticed it was already after eleven. Damn, when had it gotten so late?

“Awww, I’m gonna be bored again.” He whined with a pout.

“If you get too bored, you could always go look for the present I left you.” Elmo said with a slight chuckle. “I hid it in one of your boxes. Night, Jackie!”

“What?!” Jack asked as he sat up. “You little sneak! When did you-?!” His only response was distant laughter as Elmo hung up the phone. Jack glared at the dial-tone emitting device before he broke into a grin and laughed too. “I taught that kid way too well.”

With nothing else to do, Jack tossed the muffin wrappers from his dinner into the trash and started looking through his boxes for anything that looked remotely like a present. When half an hour of searching left him with nothing, he began to think about which boxes were closest to Elmo when he was hiding in the car.

He doubted it would be in the box with his dishes, so that left- Aha!

With a triumphant grin, Jack went to his bedroom and opened up the box that contained his still-packed toy notebooks. Lifting the top-notebook out of the way, he found a small wrapped package nestled underneath.

It was flat and heavily padded to keep it from getting damaged, all wrapped up in shiny silver wrapping paper with a big golden bow. Jack carefully pulled the bow off and set it aside for later before eagerly tearing the wrapping paper and protective tissue-paper underneath off to see what his present was.

Once the paper was out of the way, Jack turned the gift over in his hands and stared at it with a look of surprise that slowly melted into a soft, affectionate smile. He hugged the present close to his chest for a moment before setting it down on the nightstand by his bed.

Deciding he’d done enough for one day, he got ready for bed and changed into his pajamas. Before he went to sleep, though, he looked at his nightstand and smiled again at the sight of his present:

It was a picture in a simple black table-top frame. The photo was of himself and Elmo from when they were around thirteen and six, respectively, and had gone out trick-or-treating for Halloween. They decided to go as a pair of stereo-typical prison convicts in black and white striped jump suits with a little papier-mâché foil-wrapped chain connecting their arms (both for costume effect and because Elmo’s parents didn’t want him wandering off without Jack). In the white boarder of the photo the words “Jackie & Elmo, PARTNERS IN CRIME!” were written in big red letters.

Jack reached over and turned the picture so that it was facing him, smiling at the sight of himself and Elmo and their big grins in the photo. Seeing his friend’s face helped him feel less lonely as he closed his eyes.

“Night, Elmo..” He said quietly before he fell asleep.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Yeah, for some reason, I felt the need to have them eating something with chocolate in each section of this story- I have no idea why, it just seemed fitting xP

[heartslogos]

EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT TO THE BATMAN [42]

“Listen,” Tim says as he navigates his way through the Purchasing staff, “If Mr. Wayne wants two billion in aerospace parts and equipment, that’s fine. He can want it all he wants. He can want it all day and night into next year. But if that two billion isn’t out of his personal pocketbook and is going through W.E. then I can’t do anything about it.”

“Well. It is his money.”

“It’s W.E.’s money,” Tim corrects, looking around nervously. It’s never a good idea to talk about expenditure on the Purchasing floor. Any of the Purchasing floors, but especially not this one.

Not the main Purchasing floor. The other ones he goes to just to watch them squirm, it makes him feel alive.

But on this one?

This is where all the experts are gathered. The ones who can handle the hottest of messes with only minor anxiety and consternation.

This is where the boss of the entire Purchasing department is.

“Listen, there isn’t a single penny that passes through W.E. without being overseen by Li,” Tim explains. “Every single paperclip, every single coffee stirrer, every bolt, nut, screw, sticky note, and button on people’s uniforms comes from Li. Normally she and I have a pretty sound relationship and she lets me get Mr. Wayne what he wants. But that’s because we have a quarterly expense discussion that gives me room to work with. There is no room to work with in two billion in aerospace tech. If Mr. Wayne wants his you are going to have to explain it because I can’t.”

“She lets you?” Dick’s eyebrows raise up, incredulous. “People can stop you from doing things?”

Tim valiantly refrains from pointing out that the Waynes stop him from doing things all the damn time.

“Li is…You’ll see when you meet her.”

Li is maybe a year or two older than Tim and came to W.E. the exact same way he did, except later in her life. She graduated college and joined W.E. as a temp, floated around two departments before winding up in Purchasing to fill a gap made by several employees going on maternity and paternity leave at once. And she never left.

She would’ve made it to head of Purchasing on her own, regardless of any interference, but when Tim noticed her work he fast tracked her with as much influence he could exert and now she’s in charge of every single thing that any employee so much as thinks about. It’s an understated position with a lot of power.

Li doesn’t have an office, but she has a very large table at the back of the open floor. There’s a little ticket machine a few feet in front of it, as they approach Tim sees someone grab a ticket and go back to their desk, like a meat counter.

Normally Tim would also grab a ticket; he respects Li and her system, as well as the stress of what she’s trying to coordinate on a minute by minute basis to do any less. But this is an unusual situation that’s best nipped in the bud immediately.

So Tim leads Dick straight past the ticket counter to Li’s desk.

Li, herself, is a mystery among mysteries. Unlike most employees there’s absolutely nothing personal on her desk or anything resembling a work station. In fact her station is clean to the point of brutalism. She has one black pen holder, standard issue, with one red, one black, and one blue pen as well as a single pencil. She has her keyboard and mouse and two monitors. There are reams upon reams of paper neatly stored in plain folders neatly lined up.

The most personal thing about Li’s work station is Li, herself.

There are three things Tim, and the rest of the company, knows about Li.

She’s a college graduate.

She’s married — this is known because her wife is on her insurance and is listed as her beneficiary for her life insurance policy.

And that’s it, actually. Tim thought there was a third one and there wasn’t.

No, wait. She uses fountain pens.

On the wall behind the desk are ten screens lined up in two rows of five, each displaying numbers and letters and words that mean close to nothing to Tim but are, undoubtedly, incredibly important to the continued welfare of W.E.

This department handles every single other department’s requests. Office supplies, janitorial supplies, furniture, the purchase of medical supplies for their medical department and hospitals, fuel, machine parts, raw materials, computers, everything. You have to respect the person in charge of keeping all of that in balance and making sure that W.E. still turns a profit while keeping out of hot water with state, national, and international laws.

Li is softly talking to one of her employees, looking over a packet of paperwork, before signing off on it and handing it back.

The employee gives Tim and Dick a look of utter bafflement as they head back to their desk.

Tim approaches the desk.

Li raises one finger at him, leans forward and types something into her computer. One of the screens blinks, showing the chat log the company uses. The name of the chat is PURCHASING QUEUE and it shows that Li has updated the chat with the number 47 and the time stamp of 09:48.

“Li.”

“Drake.” Li’s sharp eyes flick behind Tim for a moment. “Grayson.”

“I’m sorry to cut in,” Tim says, “It’s urgent. You know I wouldn’t otherwise.”

He’d made sure to send her a message earlier. He couldn’t get a call in so hopefully she saw it.

Li’s stare is a thousand miles away from now and unimpressed. She turns to look at something over her shoulder, then checks something on one of her computer screens and calmly hits some numbers on her phone, picking it up on her headset and says, “Stop buy on all ventilation equipment on region six. Yes. Any open as of this morning are approved, but any placed beyond opening today are to be cancelled. I want a total count in two hours. Yes. Goodbye.”

She straightens up and looks Tim dead in the eye.

“Two billion.”

“In aerospace tech.”

She turns around to the stack of shelves carrying dozens upon dozens of plastic binders and pulls one out. It’s the only one he recognizes.

“Yes, I know — “

“If you know why are you asking me to acquire two billion in aerospace equipment and technologies using W.E. funds?” Li returns.

“I’ll leave it to Mr. Grayson to explain.” Tim turns to Dick and motions him forward.

Dick looks like he’s ready to wind up with the Grayson-Wayne charm. Unfortunate. Li doesn’t do well with charm. And more than that? She absolutely loathes it when someone tells her she has to buy something. You’d think that would be counter productive as the person in control of all W.E. purchases. But it’s saved them millions in excess expenditure and audit fines. That kind of attention to detail is rare.

It’s also why Tim made sure she got put in this position. If Tim’s going to deal with the Wayne family on a daily basis he needs to make sure that there’s at least someone in the company capable of running this show without being run roughshod by the Waynes when Tim isn’t able to corral them.

Li crosses her arms, attention focused on Dick and Tim has no doubt that she’s already got the numbers ready to go in her head.

“I have a conference call in ten minutes and two more people with urgent questions to deal with before then. I’m giving you six,” Li says. “And you can start by telling me what happened to the first six billion in aerospace tech I purchased two weeks ago.”

Tim does his best not to let his smirk come through at Dick’s look of utter and complete dismay. Consequences are terrible, aren’t they? Tim bets that Dick never thought there was someone actually watching the money fly out the window. Tim bets that none of them thought anyone was keeping such close tabs on it.

Dick looks at Tim.

Tim busies himself by looking at the screens behind Li and trying to parse out what any of it means.

“Well,” Dick coughs and rallies himself quite impressively. “We used them. And through a lot of trial and error and experiments we learned a lot of things that we can use as a base for where we’re headed. So while we got a lot done, Li, we still have a lot further to go and — “

“Refurbish the old parts,” Li says immediately. “And check for excess waste. Six billion spent on experiments and not a single part of that can be reused or applied elsewhere? Unlikely. What are the total tallies? What’s the break down per category? How much of this is being outsourced and how much of it can we provide intracompany?”

Li scowls, “Where’s the project proposal?”

“Ah. It’s more of a, as the raven flies kind of thing, we’re figuring out what we need by trial and error. So it’s not exactly a perfectly itemized list as of this — “

“Then as of this time the request for additional parts is denied.”

Li turns away from Dick, “Teresa, you’re number forty seven?”

Tim takes Dick by the elbow and steers him off to the side.

“If it’s any consolation you did a lot better than I thought you would. She actually let you dig your own grave.”

“Is she like that all the time?”

“You should see her with Mr. Wayne,” Tim says. “Honestly, if she ever decided to go for my job I’d let her. You’d be begging for me to be back in hours.”

[myaekingheart]

53: Cuts and Scrapes

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3

index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

TW: SELF HARM 

              Kakashi knocked on Rei’s door, fighting the smile behind his mask. Everything had been so hectic lately with the Akatsuki an ever-looming threat. Thanks to them, neither Rei nor Kakashi’s schedules had allowed time together for the past two weeks. His arms ached to hold her again, his ears desperate to hear her voice and eyes to see that smile. He heard some clamoring inside before finally the door swung open and there she was. She leapt into his arms with a killer smile, hugging him tightly, then pulled him inside.

               The first thing he noticed was that she looked exhausted. Dark circles lined her eyes and a sickly pallor tinged her face. Her apartment was messier than usual—which was really saying something.

               “I’ve missed you so much” she said, grinning up at him as she took his hands in hers.

               “I’ve missed you, too” he replied. He caressed her cheek and just enjoyed her presence for a moment, taking advantage of every minute he was with her. As he did so, however, he sensed something lurking behind her eyes. They seemed duller, quieter, as if some of the life had disappeared. His heart skipped a beat and he tried not to think too much about it. They had been busy, she was just tired. That was all.

               She broke free of his allure, then, and walked over to the fridge, pulling two cans of orange soda. She tossed the one to Kakashi, who caught it without hesitation and then maneuvered his way toward the unmade bed. He swiped away some dirty clothes and then took a seat on the edge as she pulled her desk chair over and straddled the back.  

               “So how was your last mission?” he asked as he tugged his mask down, then popped the tab and took a sip. Apparently, so long as it was orange, it was the only kind of soda Kakashi really cared to drink, but he only ever cared to drink it when he was with her. It was a crisp reminder of summers in the sun as children, spraying one another with soda foam and running barefoot until sticky in the sun.

               Rei took a dark swig of her own drink and shook her head. “Just another lame cat and mouse game, nothing worth talking about” she said, glancing out the window. He followed her gaze to the streets below, the people passing by, and there was a sort of wistfulness in her expression. Her fingers twitched against the aluminum. “I can’t wait for the hokage to give me another assignment” she added. She seemed almost jittery, desperate to constantly keep moving. As she lifted the can to her lips, however, Kakashi noticed something else.

               “Rei, what’s that?” he asked, gently pulling her arm down to get a better look. Scrapes and scratches covered her forearm, relatively fresh. She blinked a few times, then jerked her arm away and tugged her sleeve down.

               “Don’t be stupid, Kakashi” she snapped. “They’re just battle wounds. Occupational hazard. Nothing to worry about.” Kakashi nodded slowly, though her response still didn’t feel entirely sufficient. Rei knocked back another gulp of soda and began toying with the metal tab until it broke off.

               “Is something on your mind?” he then asked.

               Rei gazed back at him abruptly, harshly. “Dammit, Kakashi! What’s with the third degree?” she shouted, leaping up so fast she knocked her chair over. “I’m fine. I just want to get back to work, alright?” she continued. By now she was pacing the room, gesturing frantically with her free hand. “I hate sitting around cooped up in this fucking apartment. There’s no fucking room, and it’s always a damn mess but there’s no use cleaning because it’s a total pit. I need to get out of here, I-I need to do something. I need fresh air and a fresh start and a fresh view. Somewhere far, far away from here. I don’t want to deal with any of it anymore.”

               “Strong words from a Konoha kunoichi” Kakashi commented, cocking a brow. For so long she had been such a strong proponent of lazing around, so the sudden change was concerningly uncharacteristic. She shook her head as if he wouldn’t understand and truly, he didn’t. He couldn’t wrap his head around what had gotten into her and was even mildly scared of receiving an answer.

               Finally calming down, she sighed and set her drink on the desk. “I just need a night away” she said quietly, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. Kakashi rose and put his soda beside hers, then brushed her bangs out of her face and kissed her forehead.

               “Then spend the night at my place” he offered softly. A sly smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she looked up at him, a silent agreement, then watched him depart. It disappeared the moment he shut the door.

               Kakashi pulled her into his apartment the moment she arrived, closing the door behind her and tugging his mask down to kiss her. He couldn’t help but note a touch of resistance on her end, however, so he pulled away and asked again if she was alright.

               Scoffing, she flopped back on his bed and assured him tiredly, “I’m fine. Stop asking.” He defiantly agreed, though he remained uneasy.

               He cooked her a simple dinner and opened the windows for a fresh breeze. They ate against a sunset backdrop, but she didn’t show much interest in her food. She poked at her chicken with her chopstick, moved her noodles around boredly. Try as he might, any attempt at conversation was shut down by blunt, one-word answers. It hurt his heart to see Rei so distant, but Kakashi didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t want to press her for answers for fear of pushing her further away, but he knew something was definitely wrong. He needed to know what so he could make things right. So he could fix her.

               When they climbed into bed, she made sure all the lights were off before stripping. His hands ran across her silhouette and his shadow loomed over in her bed. When they fucked, she seemed like she was just going through the motions but when Kakashi asked if she wanted to stop, she assured him to keep going. She fell asleep with her back to him, curled up, her hair a tangled mess. He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her and she didn’t protest, but she didn’t give him any indication that she was pleased with it, either. It took him a long while to fall asleep and when he did, all he saw was her.

               Kakashi awoke to complete darkness and, for a second, was outrageously disoriented. He squinted at the clock, the time reading 3:07am. His hand glided across the bed in search of Rei, but she was nowhere to be found. He immediately leapt to his feet and flicked the light on. The room was empty save for himself. His heart began pounding faster and faster as he tugged his mask on and checked the hallway, but still nothing. His breathing picked up, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes darted to the staircase and a sudden horrific image filled his head. He refused to believe it was a possibility, but he had to be sure. Just as he was about to dart upstairs, however, something caught his attention. Soft grunts and cries reached his ears from inside his apartment. He turned slowly, catching a flickering light from beneath the bathroom door.

               “R-Rei…is that you?” he asked, knocking lightly. “Are you alright?”

               The grunting and crying immediately cut off, but there was no answer. Kakashi waited another minute or so, his anxiety escalating, before deciding this had gone way too far. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He insisted she let him inside, but there was no reply. If he wanted to get in, he would just have to bust the door down. Sucking in a deep breath, he jammed his shoulder against the door once, twice, three times before finally stumbling inside. He met Rei’s eyes for only a moment, and his heart sank.

               His girlfriend’s tiny figure was hunched in the corner, almost primal and strange. She held a kunai tight in her hands, patches of blood staining her arms and smeared onto her bare legs. She stared straight ahead with wide eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her long bngs covered most of her face.

               “Re, what do you think you’re doing?” Kakashi shouted, surging forward. He ripped the kunai from her hands and lifted her to her feet, flicking the light on. Of course that made everything worse. At least in the darkness, it was harder to see the damage she had done to herself. Hefty sobs racked her entire body as she wrapped her bloody arms around her waist and stared at the ground. “Rei, look at me” he insisted, tilting her chin upward. He brushed her bangs out of her face but she wouldn’t look him in eye. She couldn’t. “What is this all about?” he asked, but the inquiry only made her cry harder. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, pulling her arm away to check the injuries. His stomach churned. “Rei, why did you do this to yourself?" he asked. “Tell me. Now. What is going on?” Once again, the inquiry only led to more sobs.

               Unfortunately, Kakashi soon realized there was no way he would get an answer out of her now. Not like this. Still firmly clutching her arm, he opened the cabinet and pulled out a washcloth and peroxide and began cleaning her wounds. He counted them as they revealed themselves from beneath the mess. One, two, three, four…sickening. Fortunately, they weren’t very deep but that meant nothing. Self harm is self harm, no matter what the degree. As he wiped away the blood and applied pressure to stop the flow, all he could think was why? Why would she do this to herself? And what the everliving hell was going on?

               Once cleaned, he grabbed a roll of bandages and began wrapping her forearms. All the while, she stood there staring straight ahead sobbing quietly, her entire body trembling. He scooped her up and carried her bridal style back to bed, laying her down gently. She immediately curled up into a ball and buried her face in the pillow. With a sigh, he climbed over her and rubbed her back until she calmed down.

               “Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked, voice quiet but commanding. Another sob shook her body. A few minutes of silence passed.

               “Are you mad at me?” she finally croaked.

               “I’m upset, but I’m not mad at you” he replied. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asked. Rei shook her head and curled up even tighter. “Rei, you have to tell me. What is going on?” Kakashi insisted. He rested his hand gently on the small of her back, a silent sign of comfort. He had no intention of yelling at her, but he also wasn’t sure if she truly understood the weight of what she had done. And for what? He needed solid answers.

               And then a horrifying prospect popped into his head. He recounted the past month, their limited time together. Their anniversary, his still-steady plans to propose. He scrutinized his every action, searching for flaws. Then, finally, he asked, “Is it something I’ve done?”

        ��      Finally, Rei answered. “N-no…not at all” she whispered. A wave of relief swept over Kakashi. Sighing, Rei slowly turned onto her other side to face him. Her boyfriend’s eyes were filled with sorrow and fear. The soft flesh of her arms stung.

               “Then what is this about?” Kakashi then asked once more. She looked like she was about to speak but merely hesitated with mouth ajar before tears streamed down her cheeks again. “Come here” he whispered, pulling her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

               Sniffling, Rei whimpered, “Kakashi…I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

               “Oh?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

               “I’m a fucking piece of shit” she replied. “I shouldn’t be a shinobi. I’ve done something so horrible…I can’t even say it.”

               She could feel his heart rate picking up speed, which only made her that much more terrified of admitting her transgressions. “Is this about your last mission?” he asked softly. Rei gave a small nod.

               “It was so…so bad, ‘Kashi” she whispered. She buried her face in his chest and he petted her hair comfortingly. “We were ambushed and…and I made a terrible mistake” she continued. He waited patiently for her to find the strength to continue, her body riding a rollercoaster of emotion that varied the degree to which she trembled. Her voice was weak and quiet, forced, but she managed a simple yet horrifying sentence: “I made the wrong decision and…and it cost someone their life.”

               Kakashi’s heart sank. Flashes of his past flickered though his mind: his father’s vilification, his broken promises, his best friend’s eye, his hand plunging through the chest of a girl who only ever loved him. Any mission involving the death of a comrade was always difficult to recover from, especially when you felt as if you were at fault. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize the hints he missed that further enforced the situation. Tenshi had been retrieving her mail when he entered the building but did not greet him with her usual voracious enthusiasm. Instead, she glanced at him with a quiet, somber expression. He assumed it had just been the aftermath of the sleepover incident, but now he understood that was not the case at all. He overheard talk of many brutal casualties from the hokage’s office that morning but thought nothing of it until now. “I understand your pain” he then said, leaning back so as to look her in the eyes, “but that’s no excuse to hurt yourself.”  

               Rei shook her head and pulled back, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “You don’t get it” she insisted. “I’m at fault for someone’s death! My own teammate! And not just that, but my best fucking friend!”

               Kakashi blinked a few times. His entire body flooded with panic, as if he was trapped in a dream and about to fall over the edge of a cliff. Deep down, he understood perfectly but at the same time, there was still a sliver of hope that perhaps he was wrong. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “W-what do you mean…?”

               Rei kicked him away and violently tossed her pillow across the room with a shrill battle cry. “Naru is dead!” she shouted, tears pouring down her face. “My best friend...she’s dead and…and it’s all my fault!”

               Kakashi was completely paralyzed. It didn’t make sense. Naru was one of the liveliest people he knew, second only to Guy. The thought of her being dead just didn’t compute. He watched Rei fall apart, the entire world turning in slow motion, then cautiously scooted nearer. He was almost afraid his proximity would make her hysterics even worse but took the risk anyway and pulled her into his arms. She collapsed against him, wailing like an abandoned infant as she pounded her fist against his chest. He tangled his fingers in her hair, rocked her back and forth, anything to help ease the pain at least slightly. His strong arms only provided mild comfort.

               “She was my best friend…” Rei sobbed. “Sh-she died in my arms…all because of me. Because I didn’t think…and now she’s gone and…and I can never get her back. What am I going to do without her, Kakashi? She was my best fucking friend…”

               “I know, Rei…I know” Kakashi whispered. He couldn’t find the words to express how much he truly understood her pain. He didn’t know if it was even appropriate. All he knew was that Rei was suffering and he needed to be there for her. “Why did you feel the need to hurt yourself?” he asked after a few moments.

               Rei groaned and pushed him away, collapsing in on herself again. “What part of this don’t you understand?” she shouted. “Naru is dead because of me! Don’t you think I deserve some sort of punishment?”

               “No, I don’t” Kakashi said bluntly. “What good is hurting yourself going to do? What is a kunai to the wrist going to solve?”

               “I can’t believe I ever thought you’d understand” Rei snapped, clenching her fists as she rose from the bed and gathered her things. She didn’t need this right now. Kakashi was all she had and even he lacked the sympathy she needed. “Naru died” she repeated, resting her hand on the doorknob. “Hurting myself is the least I could do.” She thought back to when they were kids, to the pact she and Naru had made in their academy days. This is a blood pact! The strongest there is. Once we do this, there’s no turning back, understand? We’re tied together forever and ever. If I go down, Rei, you’re going down with me, got it?

               Rei pressed her hand hard against her chest, feeling that taunting heartbeat. She should’ve died instead. She should’ve been on the receiving end of that fatal blow. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair.

               Before Rei could leave, Kakashi’s breath suddenly pulsed at the back of her neck. “I really don’t want you alone tonight” he whispered. A shiver ran down Rei’s spine, her eyes widening.

               “You don’t know what you’re talking about” she replied, tightening her grip on the handle. He gently placed his hand atop hers and she could feel his eyes burning holes into her back. She sucked in a deep breath. “You think you know what’s best for me, Kakashi, but you don’t. You don’t understand a damn thing.”

               “I understand more than you think I do” he replied. “My father, my teammates, my sensei…they’re all gone. My own jutsu killed Rin. I live with the guilt every single day.” Rei’s heart leapt into her throat. Kakashi wrapped his fingers around her unsteady hand, gently pulling it away from the doorknob. “I don’t trust what you’re going to do to yourself if I leave you alone.”

               “Quit worrying about me, Kakashi” Rei whispered. “Just let me deal with this the way I see fit.”

               “I’m not going to let you get away with hurting yourself” Kakashi growled.

               “Why not?” Rei snapped, whipping around to face him. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You think you understand but you have no idea! I fucked up and someone is dead because of me! I deserve every ounce of pain I give myself!”

               “No, you don’t” Kakashi said sternly. His voice remained level but had a certain power to it that almost scared Rei, though she would never admit it. “And if you keep this up, you’re going to end up dead, too.”

               “How do you know that’s not what I want?” Rei asked. Kakashi’s stomach flipped and for a moment he was positive he was going to be sick. He refused to believe what he was hearing. “How do you know that’s not what I deserve? Naru and I had an agreement. She goes down, I go down with her!”

               “I refuse to let you do this” Kakashi insisted, looking her dead in the eyes. Sharp, intimidating, desperate. “Everyone else I ever cared about has already been killed. I refuse to let the same happen to you, especially by your own hand.”

               He thought back to the promise he had made so long ago, when Rei was just a baby. He promised to be her protector, to never let any harm come to her. He hadn’t done a very great job of that over the years. He accepted his failure long ago. But now she was here before him, the love of his life, the last of spark of light he had left, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make good on his promise. She was his entire world and he had to protect her, even from herself.  

               She stared back at him for a long while, at first defiant but then her gaze began to soften. She thought of those many years apart, when she thought he had stopped caring about her. When he was distant and depressed. She thought of the things people said about him behind his back after Rin died. Friend-Killer Kakashi. Of him all alone in the house just next door, every day forced to walk past the spot where he found his father’s dead body. And yet she still couldn’t fathom the idea that he truly understood. She had put everyone in danger. She was given authority only to prove that she didn’t deserve it. She had caused her best friend’s death. She had made a huge mistake and now she was suffering the consequences. She couldn’t get the image out of her head, ripping Naru’s mask off to find her ghostly face. Her blue eyes had grown so dull. She smiled up at Rei weakly, tears rolling down her cheeks, blood spurting from her chapped lips with each cough. Her weakening grip on Rei’s hand.

               “I-I think I’m a little banged up” she had whispered, forcing an airy laugh. Rei shook her head, opening her mouth to speak but no words came out. “I-I just want you to know…y-you’re going to get everything you ever wanted, Rei. I-I p-promise…a-and when you finally w-walk down that aisle, I want you to know th-that I’m going to be there…m-maybe not physically but…but I’ll b-be there. I wouldn’t—” here, she coughed so hard her entire body could’ve collapsed, and blood poured out of her mouth and onto her uniform— “I wouldn’t m-miss it for the world.”

               “N-Naru, stop” Rei insisted through her own tears. “Don’t say shit like that! You’re going to be fine. You go down, I go down with you, remember? We made a blood pact.”

               Naru shook her head, resting a hand on her chest and dipping it in her own blood before reaching up and pressing a shaky finger to Rei’s cheek. “W-well here’s a new one…d-don’t give up what you have…for me…” she croaked. Rei was about to protest, then thought better of herself. She refused to let Naru’s last moments be filled with arguing. Her body began to convulse and her grip tightened on Rei’s hand, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she struggled to breathe. “A-and tell Sekkachi…” she added weakly, “th-that I know…a-and I…f-feel the…same.” And then that was the end of that.

               The image haunted her. Standing now in front of Kakashi, Rei closed her eyes and saw it all play out as freshly in her head as if it was live. She thought of Naru’s final, desperate breaths, of that vacant expression when her soul finally departed. Her limp body, her disgustingly warm skin growing colder by the second. She was like a mannequin, a shell of her former self. A corpse. Her best fucking friend. Tears welled up in Rei’s eyes, gaze still locked on Kakashi. Her hands began to shake and her knees grew weak. She opened her mouth, choked on her words. Then, finally, a whisper. “It should’ve been me.”

               A sob broke past her lips as her legs gave out and she stumbled to the floor. Kakashi lunged forward and caught her just in time. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and carried her back to bed. She buried her face in his chest and Kakashi rubbed her back and whispered comforting words in her ear as she wailed herself to sleep.

[spared-sans]

United in Hell

In which Mercy finds herself siding with Talon.

[Okay so

I got carried away.

Overwatch fanfic hath arrived. Enjoy~]

The unease began as soon as the recall was issued. Angela of course joined her comrades at their former Gibraltar base. Winston, Tracer, Reinhardt and herself were all that had arrived as of now. They were happily catching up on 10 years of stories and she could hear their laughter as she made her way down the dim hallways.

Rounding a corner, Angela entered her old medical lab. Everything was as she’d left it, if not a little dusty from the years. It was almost nostalgic as she ran her fingers along the counters. A decade away and it was almost exactly as she’d left it. Beakers in their cupboards. Everything in its place. But something nagged at the back of the doctors mind. Something was missing. Something important. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it. Perhaps she was just tired from the trip. Or perhaps not. Something pulled her forward to her old desk as she sat down and pulled open the drawers. They stuck slightly, but opened after a little wiggling, a small plume of dust making her cough softly.. 10 years felt like forever and no time at all. Her memories weren’t nearly so clear and they’d left the base in such a hurry. Still, Angela knew everything in her lab. Knew where everything was. She was meticulous in her organization. So why was she having such a hard time figuring out what was missing?

As she moved aside a small stack of papers her eyes widened. “No…” Of course. Why hadn’t she realized before now? The pieces clicked into place as she took in the room again. The dusty room. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. But her desk wasn’t. Not even her monitor or computer tower.

Angela stood quickly from her chair, it rolling back a few feet as she scanned the room. Winston had said he didn’t go into her lab. He had his own area and Athena kept tabs on his vitals, so why- Her gaze halted on a corner of the room bathed in shadow, a figure shifting slightly before moving forward and Angelas eyes narrowed.

“Moira. How did you get in here?” Her voice came out harshly toward her ex comrade.

As the scientist stepped further into the light, she crossed her arms, a pleased smile on her face. What could she possibly be so smug about? Breaking into overwatch? Somehow getting past Athenas security- No… Let through. Moiras smile widened as realization crossed Angelas features. The recent attack on Gibraltar. Of course.

“It’s nice to see you again, Angela. It’s been far too long. I’m glad you accepted the recall too.” She chuckled as the doctors eyes narrowed further. “You forgot? I was just as much a part of overwatch as you were, doctor. Did you not miss me?” Angela hissed softly. There were three people down the hall that could help her, but if Athena was corrupted, they’d be clueless unless one of them came to find her. She wasn’t nearly so defenseless, however. As much as she hated fighting, this was a battle she wouldn’t lose easily. Her Caduceus blaster was unclipped from her side and pointed at Moira in a split second, but she didn’t pull the trigger yet.

“You still won’t talk to me? No more words? You used to be better than this. Ask questions first. Heal those in need. What happened to you?” Moiras tone was a mix of condescending and… pain? No that couldn’t be right.

“You know damn well what happened, O'deorain. You sold out to Talon. Overwatch got shut down because you betrayed us. Betrayed me.” Her tone faltered for a second, but she steeled her nerves. Sentimentality would only blind her right now. No matter if her and the scientist used to be close. They weren’t anymore.

“I didn’t betray you. I found an opportunity to advance my research. You know better than anyone how much my work means to me.” Moira took a slow step forward and Angelas pistol straightened firmly, her grip tightening.

“Stop. I won’t listen to your dreams of megalomania, Moira. We’ve been through this.” The doctor watched as Moiras arms unfolded, her palms held upward.

“They’re no longer dreams, Angela. I can end this war. The advancements I’ve made can stop the fighting. Can fix everythi-“

“I said stop!” A blaster shot echos in the room as it singes the shell of Moiras ear, halting her completely. “I don’t care. Whatever you’ve done, I don’t want to hear it. You lost your chance over a decade ago when you sided with them.”

Moira seemed almost at a loss, the shot having shocked her more than anything else. She’s silent for a moment before her gaze meets with Angelas. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, if you’d just listen. Talon is shifting its movement. It’s motivations are changing as my work progresses.”

Angelas blaster lowers just slightly as she processes Moiras words. Changing? She knew she shouldn’t even entertain the idea of listening, but something in her old comrades face and tone made her hesitate. She was so cocky a few moments ago, now suddenly this? The doctor didn’t understand. She really should be calling for Winston. Instead her arm drops and she gestures to a chair, expression set hard.

“Fine. Sit.”

Moira took the offered chair, folding her hands in her lap, though angela stayed standing. She wasn’t ready to trust any of this or relax completely, but she’d listen. Best case, she got information on talon. Worst case, Moira was lying and this was a distraction. Her old fondness of the scientist made her want to believe, no matter how much she hated everything she’d done.

“Changing how?”

“Talons goal has always been purity of the human race through conflict. That is both before Akandes lead, and up until the past few months.” Moira began. “Since my recent discovery, we’ve learned of a far better way of purifying humanity and growing it to its highest potential.”

Angela was already finding herself disgusted. She knew of talons motivations. Humanity didn’t need to be purified. Moira noticed this look and held up her hands in a sort of surrender. “Listen, Angela. I never cared for their views. My only goal has been-“

“I know what your goal has been.” Angela cut her off sharply. “Get to the point.”

The scientist sighed softly, returning her hands to her lap. “My point is I’ve shown them humanity need not be purified. Not through conflict. Most of them want power. They have it. Some want only misery for others. Those people have been snuffed out. The only way to change their view completely and stop this endless war,” Moira seemed to stare into Angela, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “is if you agree to help.”

Angela was completely taken aback. What could possibly make them listen to her? She’d fought against them and tended to those they’d wounded for years. Why all of a sudden now did they care for anything she would have to offer? “I don’t believe you.” Her blaster rose again, lining the barrel with Moiras forehead.

Moira didn’t flinch, keeping eye contact with the doctor. “I know you don’t. They’ve never stopped before, so why would they stop now for you, right?” Moira raised her right brow. “Because you are the only person in the world who is superior to me, and you always have been. If you show them the same results I’ve received, if not better, they’ll have no choice. The council will usurp Akande and Talon will disperse.”

She couldn’t believe a word of this. It had to be a trap. A fabricated lie to trick her into walking willingly into talon.  Angela steeled her nerves once more as Moira sighed and stood, moving around the doctor. “I get it. You think it’s a trap, and I don’t blame you. You have no reason to believe me. At least think about it.”

Her blaster followed Moira as she moved and she hissed under her breath. “Don’t take another step, Moira! I will shoot you.”

That made the scientist pause with an incredulous laugh. “Then do it.” A long moment of silence passed between them before the scientist glanced over her shoulder. “You never could. Call me should you decide to believe me. My number’s in your desk.”

Angela cursed as Moira vanished into smoke, the doctor dashing to the door of the lab. Her head whipped to look down both directions of the hallway, but there was no sign of her. “Damnit!”

She smacked her hand against the door frame as she walked back to her chair, sliding heavily into it. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she set her blaster onto her desk, Moiras words running through her mind. Of course she didn’t believe her. Couldn’t. The uneasy feeling washed over her once more. Why was she even considering this? She knew why. Because her and Moira used to be close once. Because she was tired of this war. Tired of seeing her friends and comrades injured and dying. Because she would gladly take any opportunity to break talon apart. She was seriously considering it. She needed to take her mind off this.

Angelas distraction came in the form of a chipper British voice startling her from her thoughts and nearly out of her chair. “Hey doc! You do know there’s beds you can use if you’re tired. Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

She forced a smile as her gaze met Lenas. “It’s alright. Just a lot on my mind. Too many memories here.” Angela stood, pushing her chair back to her desk and clipping the blaster back onto her hip. “I heard you brought earl grey with you? I could use a cup, Lena.”

Lenas eyes seemed to light up and she beamed at the doctor. “Absolutely, doctor Ziegler! I’ll get right on it!” A flash of blue and the pilot was gone.

Angela made her way to the door, hesitating as she looked back to the desk. A few short steps and she opened the left bottom drawer on a hunch. A sticky note was inside with a number written on it. Moira always stuck important notices in that drawer when they worked together. Of course she wouldn’t have forgotten about that. She stares at the note before picking it up. Everything told her to burn it or throw it away, but she stuck it in her pocket and headed toward the dining hall. She could burn it later, after her tea.