#i was starting to get a. tad bit frazzled at work

[kissingarthurclaus]

Guys it's ok :]

Commission I got from @hecklefreckled !!! 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖 I love it so so much I've been giddy about it since last night, thank you so much again!!!

[dreadsuitsamus]

I know you've got a lot of WIPs, but when you can make the time, may I request Broly being comforted by the reader from a nightmare?? Maybe a really bad one about maybe losing Cheelai & Lemo? Please??

Dreams | Broly x Reader |

author's note: i apologize for the wait! i've caught a wind of inspiration for one of my vegeta WIPs and got a lot done on it. i'm at a point with it now where i feel okay stopping and working on other things for the time being until i decide my next move on it!

pairing: broly x fem!reader

warnings: nightmares, broly almost losing it, saiyan!reader

It's the dead of the night when you wake up, the sky outside far too dark to indicate it already being time to get up. You blink and close your eyes again, only to realize you didn't wake up on your own accord. Beside you is your longtime partner, trembling as if he was chilled to the bone. You turn over and gaze at him, his white t-shirt clinging to his body and sweat on his forehead beading down into his hair as he lays on his back.

"Broly?" You whisper, sitting up. Has he gotten sick?

A tortured gasp leaves his throat, alongside a particularly powerful thrashing that definitely would've woken you up if you weren't now. The momentum of his body knocks you flat on your back, nearly at the edge of the bed and to the floor, if he'd been any harsher. You roll off the bed and plant your feet on the ground safely, taking a deep breath and peeling the blanket off of his large body.

Somehow you've got to wake him up, and without setting him off into his uncontrollable state. And you've got to do that before his nightmare does it to himself! You rub your face and steel your nerves, hoping you don't have to call your brother in the dead of the night for a rampage of the Legendary Super Saiyan.

Your tail wraps around your waist and you get a damp cloth to gently wipe his sweat away, starting carefully at the base of his neck. Your voice is light and airy as you speak, knowing he's bound to come to eventually. "Broly..." You coo.

You place your hand on his heart, the organ beating erratically against your palm. His tail is whipping in irritation and the tip is particularly frazzled. Whatever he's dreaming of is scaring him to his very core, and your heart breaks to know his brain would conjure up such a terrible thing for him. You take another swipe of the cloth over his neck, the coolness of it lowering his temperature just a tad.

"Broly." You coo again, his heart only beginning to slow down. "C'mon, you're having a bad dream. Wake up."

He grunts below you again, his eyes clenching shut. "Cheelai-!" He yells before tossing his head to the side of the pillow.

Your eye twitches a bit. Oh, how you hate that name...

"Broly!" You say with a bit more volume, swiping the rag over his forehead. He tosses his head to the other side and whimpers. "Broly, darling, please wake up." You rip his shirt open and wipe the rag down his front.

His hair glows green for just a brief second and your eyes go wide. "Oh god." You straddle his body, wishing it was in an entirely different scenario than warding off an unhinged Super Saiyan.

You cup his face and lean down to whisper directly into his ear. "Broly, you're having a bad dream. You are safe in bed with me. Please wake up before somebody gets hurt. I love you so much and I need you to wake up now." You press your lips to his cheek in a lingering kiss.

Broly's movements calm considerably, and when you sit up his eyes finally fly open. They glow green, but when he focuses on the frightened look on your face, it fades into their normal black hue. He blinks and looks around, noting the sweat on his body, the ripped shirt, and how the blanket has been thrown off the bed.

"Broly?" You whisper.

He gasps and pulls you down against him, his arms strong around you in a crushing hug. You gasp at the force and feel his tail wrap around yours. "Broly! A little tight!"

His arms only loosen up a little bit, but you can breathe now. "I..." He whispers, his eyes shutting tightly.

"Hush, darling." You rub his sides and lovingly nuzzle your tail with his. "Relax..." You purr gently. "Everything's okay. Nobody got hurt. Shh..."

Broly sniffles and tucks his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent from the mating bite he left on you. His heart rate slows down and his arms finally go lax, tired from his adrenaline rush. You kiss his hair and smile as he keeps his face tucked safely in your neck.

"C'mon, let's get you in a bath."

Broly whines against you in hesitation, but you don't relent to him, explaining all his sweating has made it impossible to cuddle comfortably, and at that he listens. He only puts you down when you've reached the tub, stripping down to nothing. You fix him up a perfect bath and remove your nightgown covered in your partner's sweat, pulling on a robe and settling on the stool beside the bubbe-filled tub.

Broly carefully steps in, and you hold his hand as he sinks down. You hum and massage his knuckles, allowing him to calm his mind as he tilts his head back on a rolled up towel and closes his eyes. You continue humming, kissing his hand every now and then and rubbing up his arm.

"I had a dream they died." Broly mumbles.

"Cheelai and Lemo?"

"Yes." He whispers, looking down at the bubbles. "It was me that did it."

"Honey..."

"And then you tried to stop me." His voice trembles and he begins to cry. "And you were gone too."

You sigh and move to sit at the end of the tub, cupping his face. "It was a bad dream. Nothing more than that. Everybody is alive and well."

"But what if it does happen?" Your heart shatters when he looks up, his eyes watered and tears stuck onto his cheeks.

You sigh and wipe away those tears. "It won't. You have control over yourself now, better than we ever thought you could. Yes, your eyes were green when you woke up, but you saw my face and stopped. Is that not near-perfect control? I certainly think so."

"I could never even yell at you. Every time I see your face I feel the most in control of myself. I... You're my mate." He whispers. "If something happened to you, I'd destroy everything. And if I did it... I'd self-destruct."

You smile down at him, petting his hair. "I may not be the mythical, once in a thousand years Super Saiyan, but I am the sister of Kakarot, and not to be underestimated, sir!" You boop the tip of his nose and he manages not only a small smile, but a laugh.

"Never." He says. "But... Think fast!"

With the quickness of a track runner, Broly grips you and pulls you into the tub! You screech when the water soaks your robe, laughing into your boyfriend's chest. "You bastard!"

Broly giggles, pleased with his little prank. His chest flutters lightly, successfully out of the dark headspace of his nightmare. "I'm not very sorry."

You pull off the soaked robe and throw it into the sink, leaning onto the solid mass that is Broly. His arms come around you tightly and he gazes out the window, the sun already starting to rise. He kisses the back of your head, smiling against you and closing his eyes. You reach back and play with his hair, and he gives you one more squeeze. It's so perfect he's not sure it isn't a dream until you look back at him with that smile he loves.

That, and the water starts getting cold.

[imsiriuslyreading]

We concur-being sick sucks! Daft pup Skye says hi-he offers a snoot for feel better boops.

He hopes this helps!

The human half of this team recommends @eyra for cozy reads endlessly. The oldest recipe for parsnip soup was an absolute delight!

Most of my other Wolfstar rereads are a tad long for frazzled brains (Marginalia by @spindrifters comes to mind-it’s utterly spectacular and my all time favourite though). Stealing Harry by copperbadge definitely has suitably quaint opening chapters and is also a longer read.

I read a lot of ‘Wolfstar raising Harry’ fics and the Wolfstar as parents AUs series is adorable-I’d start with To make a family. Lupine is also very sweet (Sirius is a zookeeper in that one! And Teddy is obsessed with the wolves). Let’s play pretend is a bit longer, and very funny! I’m fairly sure my cheeks hurt from grinning by the end! In this vein I’m currently reading the Ordinary Delights series, which does an excellent job of being exactly what it says on the tin (Padfoot and Moony rescue Harry-there are secret Hope made pastries)

I’m English enough that I think The London Underground book of love is very cute!

Better in the Morning is a Sirius makes it back through the veil a bit later fic that makes me feel all the things, but is very soft all things considered.

And last but certainly not least I’d cross an ocean for you by @imjustherefortheshipping is my most recent reread. It’s a Sirius makes it out of Azkaban years ahead of time story. Many tears. Thankfully also hugs!

I hope at least a couple of these float your boat and help pass the time whilst stuck in bed feeling less than great. Skye sends snuggles! And Happy reading! -RebelWriter99

Oh my goodness, hello?? LOOK AT THAT SNOOT! Thank you so much Skye for the boop'n'snuggles, I feel better already?

What a beautiful treat this was to wake up to.

I've just finished reading Parsnip Soup and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. What a gorgeous story that was, one thing about Eyra, their words make their way into my brain and change it a little every time, I think.

i cannot wait to get into Marginalia, i keep sneaking over to look at spoilers of that one, my willpower is working against me so badly with that one, it looks too good. TOO good.

I adore wolfstar raising harry and the only one of these I've read so far is Let's Play Pretend and i ADORED IT so I'm thoroughly looking forward to the rest of these - thank you ever so much! <3

The london underground being turned into a love story is the best thing to ever happen to it - my days of commuting left me bitter so I'm excited for this one too 👀

Better in the morning made me SOB oh my goodness. you have fantastic taste, at this point, I'd trust you with my life I think.

I haven't heard of that last one either, so I'm promptly bookmarking that, too.

You're truly a star for all of these recs and well wishes. not to mention that incredible boopysnoot pic, i feel very very lucky.

this was lovely. truly. thank you so very much, have the absolute best day! Lana xoxo

[phoebehalliwell]

I was going through your dark future tag (obsessed!!!!) and I was wondering what your vision is for Tamora being on Wyatt's side? I'm really curious! <3

yes okay so i'm realizing i don't think i've ever talked about this! so basically in the light timeline tamora mainly has her two defining traits in that she is a bit of a scaredy cat (especially in regards to her own powers) and she is a dreamer (but she really doesn't let herself dream, like, ever. literally haha now that i think of it at the point in TWW that we're in she's basically downing potion for a dreamless sleep like every night. but i think this is best exemplified by her being a business/econ major while kat is off on a gap year bc kat like i want to find myself and explore new things and tamora, while she has these dreams, simply doesn't find it realistic. that's why she picked such a practical major, something you could definitely get a job with, because - and this is also rooted in her anxiety - she doesn't want tot go out on a limb have it break underneath her and have it all come crashing to the ground. if you asked her "what is your dream major" or "what is your dream job" i don't know if she'd have an answer. like, there definitely is an answer and it's definitely not "business major" but she is kind of so severed / embarrassed by that dreamer part of herself that she doesn't know what the answer is.)

so anyway. a major difference we find in the dark future would a) be it's dark as hell in here lol. you know wyatt's kind of crazy and magic isn't doing well and the charmed ones are all in pretty bad emotional places. and then b) tamora and kat were raised with their powers. in canon as defined in the comics which i did elect to continue in my writings, the twins powers were bound bc tamora like lit the nursery on fire. because, even as a baby, she packed a punch, and those powers were dangerous, and this grants them the ability to live a normal life. however, in the dark future, okay, they were maybe bound for a couple years til the girls were like 5ish bc by then they can kind of comprehend stuff and things and then Also it's obvious they're not getting a normal life. so you might as well start training them bc there is a darkness brewing on the horizon.

so this is where we circle back to Tamora, Anxiety, & Dreams. TAD, if you will. she is still scared, and she is afraid of her powers and herself and the world and you know what her family lowkey isn't helping because they're basically saying yeah there's a lot to be scared of. so probably around a middle school age for her, she meets her cousin. her cousin everyone's warned her about. and she knows she should fight him but she can't bc quite frankly she is frazzled and scared and lord knows powers don't work super well when you're in that headspace. but wyatt is actually super nice, and he protects tamora, and he watches out for her. maybe he saved her from some school bullies or demons in a way where he did most of the damage but lets tamora commit the final blow (probably demons it would be excessive to kill middle school bullies but like. i mean not improbable? if we wanted to get really dark with it we could say it was actually some older person attempting to sexually assault tamora at age 12 or whatever and she does kill that person. i just think that that's um. very heavy and needs to be done with respect i kind of hate when media sprinkles in assault against women but never fully understands the ramifications that continue throughout life when that shit happens to you. like we could go with that it would be interesting i would just really want to put proper emphasis and more research towards that trauma. if we wanted to go a little lighter it could be because magic is already relatively exposed by this point? a witch hunter trying to kill tamora). Point Is. tamora does it. she (probably) kills that guy, using her power, with wyatt's guidance. and just for a moment, it's a taste of what she dreams of -- a world where she's not the one who's scared, she's the one who's powerful, she's the one who's in control

so i think that is was ultimately pulls her to wyatt's side, this promise of being someone who is not scared but who is fierce, who is confident, who is in control. and it feels good. it feels so good to be powerful and to be feared and not be such a shrinking violet not be the awkward kid who feels like she doesn't fit in but to take the knife and carve out the place yourself. this, obvi, fucks up her relationship to kat. the twin telepathy thing is definitely complicated and not great to have when you're on opposite sides of a war. i honestly wouldn't be surprised if kat tried to psychically argue tam back to their side and tam in fury did try to kill kat. and the thing with the twin telepathy (as i have established it) is when your brain chemistry is altered, you can't reach each other. this happens when one is over caffeinated, drunk, high, under the affects of a potion, etc. if it's modified in the same way (e.g. both took the same potion) then they can still communicate but maybe it's a little hazier. if someone is to say go on antidepressants or something, their brain chemistry is being altered, so they wouldn't be able to communicate. however, the way it works is they are always kind of spiritually reaching out to find each other, so, assuming they were to stay on the same dose and meds and keep this as their new "base chemistry", within a couple months the connection would reinstate itself.

This Is Why tamora, (who, on wyatt's side, renames herself paloma halliwell, taking both a "p" name and the established magical last name of the family (mitchell is not a respected magical last name, hell neither is matthews. but halliwell has been around for generations, so she takes it, separating herself from her mother's legacy and aligning herself with wyatt's concept of the warren line being the ultimate power)) is always taking some kind of potion or pill. she'll usually switch it up about every month of so, to keep her mind augmented and sealed off from kat. actually, on the rebellion side, i think whenever they have a psychic or anything of that nature, they do try to replicate whatever tam is on in order to gain access to her mind and maybe what the dark side is up to

[lavenoon]

So! I’m curious! Would there be much difference between the events of Sunset and Nacreous Cloud in the canon version and Reverse AU? I imagine Dawn would still be sent alone maybe, because it seemed like a very fast mission until things went south, but Robin would still be at work so I wonder how that would go, also considering that Dawn has seen Robin get stabbed, so this would mean now Robin also sees their rival being injured with the ray torn off and all!

Ahh, now that's interesting! Because the point of Sunset and Nacreous Cloud wasn't just to break the news to the agency (perhaps it's time to start calling them EVOC on here, too - otherwise it's "the agency" vs Abra Fez, that's gonna get confusing soon) and also kick off the Glamrock Arc. Those are definitely important effects of those chapters!

But a big part of the motivation was to have the two who only knew each other as neighbors see each other in action. Dawn got caught, yes, but he also got himself out, only to run into the one man backup that was Robin. They see each other, for the first time in a decidedly not neighborly context, and still all they feel is the relief that the other is (relatively) okay.

(discussions of and just plain injuries to animatronics, you know the drill)

So we'll go two routes - if Dawn is indeed still the one being sent out and getting caught, then perhaps he and Robin had lunch plans together for which he wanted to be back. So Robin waits, and waits, and waits for his knock, except it never comes. They skip lunch as a result, too keyed up to eat alone and also not inclined to give up on Dawn showing up - except then afternoon slowly turns into evening and he's still not back, and they know something is off.

This Robin however is also much more used to lying. They're the undercover agent, they lie for a job - so when River finds them in Dusk and Dawn's office they might just talk their way out of a reveal. They had plans with their partner, and he's not there, so something is wrong and they plan to fix it.

Maybe River still pushes for a reveal, goading Robin until they admit to it, but Robin will be more steadfast because they're much more used to social interaction and staying calm in conversations that don't bode well for them.

The surprise then would be to see Robin going back to their stealthier roots only to be surprised by evidence of their partner being hurt. They got stabbed to prevent that. And this time they have their weapon already at the ready and do not hesitate to fight their way through to him.

Mostly, Dawn would feel guilty for making them come get him - he also very vividly remembers what happened last time they protected him, and is very concerned about any potential repeats. So his relief will be tinged with fear still until he makes sure none of the blood on Robin is theirs, and Robin might just end up a tad annoyed because hey, they're saving him so if he could please stop fretting -

But, yeah, honestly? I don't see this happening in Reverse AU. Because it's missing that core aspect of seeing their neighbor be ruthless and still caring, in both directions.

So getting their hands on the info they want remains easier at night, and it's Moon who promises to be back for breakfast as he hands over a little tupperware from Sun with dinner for them. It's perhaps a bit startling to hear their somewhat shy neighbor just casually talk about breaking into a place with (even at relatively low) high security, but they've done enough of that themself to somewhat brush it off.

They wake up a little early, but their breakfast buddy never shows up. They manage a cereal bar, and then rush into work, too frazzled and too early for River to not be suspicious, and whoop, there Robin goes.

It's been a while since they went into a mission already expecting trouble, but that doesn't mean they aren't prepared. They're the one chasing runners, they're the one still squeezing in parkour whenever they can, on and off the clock, and they're the one thinking they just got to know both Sun and Moon so much more, so much closer, and they're not giving that up now.

Dusk knows his neighbor is a good agent, too - Sun's recounts leave absolutely no doubt about that. But he's an agent too, and as we've established in that other ask, Dusk is the one with the potential to be the most dangerous out of the three.

Perhaps that's why he doesn't just lose a sunray - not that any are out to be ripped off, anyway. But remember that Reverse AU skips First Aid and the explosion in there to, because they weren't idiots and told Y/N right away?

Would be a shame if Dusk gets blown up before he ends up trapped (:

Sure, wrangling him into a position that keeps his one remaining arm restrained is a bit more difficult, but with the cracked lens of his optic it's at least rather easy to pretend he's in rest mode with a dead battery.

Really, no one looks at the one armed and broken animatronic expecting a threat - so they leave him be, until it's time to get him out.

One arm is enough to make sure that doesn't happen though. Dusk is still lethal, and has access to one of his tasers (well, five), and he still has (half of his) thermal vision that he makes generous use of as he sneaks around finding his way towards backup.

And then it's Robin. Not in the outfit that Dawn usually sees them in, but a muted, sporty look, if not for the tears and blood.

Robin, at this point, has already been presented with Dusk's detached arm - they don't carry it, because let's face it, it would simply get in the way without a convenient way to carry it - but they know Moon is hurt and even knowing he can handle himself, it's a lot to go from "haha yeah that's my cute funky neighbor" to "someone just threw his arm in front of me and I don't know where the rest of him is"

They watch him rise from his half crouch, watch the electricity drain from his fingers as his eyes bleed back from red to blue (because he has to see, as much as he can, not just their heat signature), and then they're already sobbing and coming his way.

Bit more awkward to hug while still used to having one more arm to do it with, but Dusk does his best to make up for the missing one as he meets them in the middle and just holds onto them, too. They didn't even hesitate, didn't flinch back at him being so different from what they're used to, and they're currently crying in his arm because they found him.

Sun reminds him that Robin has seen him use the taser generously before, and they've established that Robin isn't scared of him anymore (This would place this version of events past Sonne(t)), so really, he shouldn't have been so worried about what they might think - and also perhaps reign in those heart eyes, because he's getting a bit obvious about things.

Ground support communications still interrupt the moment, and the heart eyes get worse when Robin continues taking the lead. It's approaching noon, perhaps, or at least late morning, and everything is very strange because Dusk does not like being out this time of day and he dreads having to do the mission report Robin already warned him River expects, and things get a little more chaotic. (Nearly wrote chaotik again, good going)

Because Robin tries to take the lead in the conversation, but doesn't quite manage to convince River that all of them together knowing each other's identities is less of a risk than it's a benefit, and Sun decides to intervene. It distracts Dusk for a hot second, but Sun is pushy - he's the social one, he knows what to say, and they can use this as a demonstration.

Robin doesn't even flinch when suddenly Dusk turns to Dawn, and is even less surprised than River who knows about the change but has never witnessed it herself (probably, but tbh I'm keeping my options open).

Dawn also very much enjoys that he receives a squeeze to his hand when he starts arguing, and River just ends up very tired when she agrees to give them their chance. She's dealt with these three enough for one day.

They go home, and while Sun wants to be reassuring and push Y/N into getting that breakfast they pretty much skipped as well as the definitely skipped lunch, they just aren't having it. It ends up being even more reassurance for Sun, because Y/N is outright furious - but only out of concern. They're coming down from the adrenaline rush, all the fear and anxiety, and that urgency to get their partner(s) back safe.

They berate him, yes, for getting hurt, trying to make him promise to not let it happen again, and the entire time they refuse to let go of him even for a second.

Sun does not promise. He says they know the risk comes with the job - he's not eager to let it happen again, but could they ever promise not getting stabbed again?

Y/N can't, for the same reasons.

Fortunately for them, they now get the opportunity to look out for each other, all of them, and they decide to make full use of that <3

[stelladoesstuff]

Hii!! I saw your post about fic requests, I was wondering if you'd like to write about Franziska having to babysit Pearls while Maya's away? In my head this is in a franmaya context but I honestly don't mind it if it's not. Happy writing!!

Kinda took this one and ran with it, ended up a bit longer than I’d intended but hey, that’s what happens sometimes! XD

---

Word Count: 4203

~ ao3 link ~ 

---

Franziska von Karma was not the type of woman to fret over someone else. She was headstrong, independent, and fearless–everything that the title of ‘von Karma’ stood for. She didn’t waste her time worrying about other people’s business because it was their responsibility to deal with it.

However, when she received a text from one Maya Fey, her girlfriend, saying that there was an ‘emergency’ and she needed to ‘come quick,’ Franziska, definitely not in a rush, hailed an uber and made it to Wright and Co. Law Offices in exactly ten minutes. Not a second more or less, as is expected of a perfect prosecutor.

When she reached the door, she raised her fist to knock, but the door swung open before she could even bring her fist against wood. What a shame, she’d been perfecting her knocking technique.

“Franzy! Thank goodness!” Maya looked frazzled to say the least. Her hair, which typically appeared silky smooth, stuck up in a few places, making Franziska want to reach out and smooth it back down. Her hand twitched as she fought her own impulse for a moment, but Maya had been working with her to stop pushing down such childish–no, such normal impulses. As such, Franziska brought her hand up to smooth Maya’s hair back down.

“Maya Fey, you look a mess.” She shook her head, suppressing a smile that tried to sneak onto her face. Even so, Maya let out a tired giggle.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” She sighed, leaning into Franziska’s hand. “Look, Franzy, I know it’s… really sudden, but can I ask you a favor?”

Anything at all. Played in Franziska’s head.

“Of what variety?” Franziska replied instead, allowing herself one more moment of running her fingers through Maya’s hair before taking her hand back. Maya sighed, turning around to walk back inside and gesturing for her to follow.

“Well, you see, apparently there’s some emergency going on in Kurain Village. Something about some spirit getting out of hand, people panicking, etcetera etcetera–” Maya made a circular motion with her wrist, emphasizing the words. “--anyway, skipping the boring stuff ‘cause I didn’t even pick up half of the details over the phone, they need me to head over and ‘use my Fey bloodline powers’ to clean things up. Problem is, Nick’s currently out with the flu, and…”

“Mystic Maya!” Franziska absolutely did not freeze up when she heard the familiar young voice. Turning her head a tad bit too sharply, she spotted one Pearl Fey pointing at Wright’s absurd office plant. “Mystic Maya, one of the leaves is slightly wilted! Charley is dying!” The girl wailed, not even seeming to notice Fraziska’s presence, and Maya shot Franziska an apologetic smile.

“...I could only snag one train ticket back to the village at the next earliest time.” As the pieces clicked into place in Franziska’s head, Pearl finally noticed there was another person in the room, and her eyes widened as her wailing suddenly gave way to silence. The three of them stood there in a silent standoff before Pearl shuffled over to Maya, grabbing her arm and slightly pulling her away.

“Mystic Maya, you said you were gonna find someone to stay with me.” Pearl seemed to be trying to whisper, but it was loud enough that anyone in the room would have been able to hear it.

“I did! Pearl, you remember Franzy-”

“NO!” Pearl screamed, stomping her foot and pouting. “Nonono! Someone ELSE!” Maya, however, didn’t seem fazed by this in the slightest, likely having expected it. She would have been foolish not to, after all. Ever since Franziska started dating Maya, Pearl had been the number one protestor to their relationship, insisting this was just an evil ploy from Franziska to ‘steal Mystic Maya’s heart away from Mr. Nick.”

Though, perhaps even more foolish than that was the foolish idea to have Franziska babysit this foolish fool.

“C’mon, Pearly! She’s the only person I can get on such short notice, do you really wanna stay by yourself-”

“Yes!” Pearl huffed, crossing her arms, though a slight tremor in her voice revealed her true intentions. “I’d rather stay here by myself than with that soulmate stealer.” Maya shot Franziska a helpless look. Only Maya Fey could make Franziska von Karma cave with a single look.

“Hmph, fine.” Franziska mimicked Pearl, crossing her arms in return. “I’ll just leave then, and you can enjoy your weekend alone. Farewell, Pearl Fey.” Maya squawked in protest as Franziska walked purposefully towards the door. In her head, she started counting. Three… two… one…

“W-wait!” There it was. Franziska smirked, the wonderful feeling of being right rising in her chest as she one again turned sharply on her heel, looking down at the girl. Pearl Fey was staring at the ground, shuffling her feet. “Fine. I’ll… w… v…” Her words were so quiet Franziska couldn’t make them out, but seemingly audible enough for Maya to hear them, because a relieved smile crossed her girlfriend’s face.

“Thank you, Pearly.” She crouched down and wrapped Pearl in her arms, the younger cousin quickly returning the hug. “I’ll be back before you know it, ok? Promise.”

“...pinky promise?” Maya chuckled, leaning back and holding out her pinky finger.

“Pinky promise.” The two joined pinky fingers, Pearl looking like she was about to start crying again. Pinky promise complete, Maya stood again, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check the time- and gasped.

“Shoot! I have to be at the train station in thirty minutes.” She scrambled for her bag that was strewn across the couch, slinging it across her shoulder and all but running out the door, stopping only for a second to give Franziska a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Franzy. I owe you one.”

There was no time for a reply. As soon as Maya walked out the door, Franziska was left under the harsh gaze of Pearl Fey. Neither of them moved as Franziska started coming up with a carefully formulated plan in her head. It was quite simple-

Step one, leave the office and return to her apartment with Pearl Fey in tow. Step two, show her where the guest bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom are. Step three, wait for Maya to return. Flawless in every way.

“Come. My apartment is ten minutes from here.” Franziska made for the door, opening it and taking a few steps outside before realizing there were no footsteps following behind her. Refusing to backtrack, she simply turned around, looking back through the door. “What is the issue?”

“I can’t leave Charley here! He’ll die!” Pearl pouted, gesturing to the abomination of a plant in the corner. It looked completely fine save for one slightly wilted leaf.

“The foliage will be fine.”

“No! He’ll die if we leave him alone!” Pearl wailed, running over and throwing her arms around the base of the pot. “Mystic Maya said it’s her duty to keep him alive in memory of Mystic Mia! If he dies while she’s gone I’ll have failed herrrr.”

The child was hugging a potted plant and sobbing. Franziska huffed, stomping back inside and resigning herself to dealing with this. The girl clearly wasn’t going to leave the plant here willingly, and she couldn’t just drag her kicking and screaming into a cab… well- no. No, that would be the cheap way out. She had half a mind to just whip the plant and put it out of its misery, but that would get them nowhere.

So, if she couldn’t drag the girl into the cab… this was a terrible idea.

Franziska immediately blamed Phoenix Wright for the turmoil she was about to endure.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, Franziska finally unlocked the door to her apartment. Double the time it should have taken, but it had happened. She ushered Pearl in before turning back to the hallway, crouching down, and picking that godforsaken potted plant up for what would hopefully be the last time.

Somehow, they’d managed to find an uber driver that both had a car large enough to carry the foliage, and also allowed them to bring it in. Perfect as always, Franziska had supplied the driver with a generous tip. Her clothes were partially coated in a layer of plant dirt, and her hair was frizzed from being whacked by leaves, but she’d successfully gotten Pearl to her apartment.

Not quite flawless, but the original goal was achieved flawlessly.

Foolish plant.

After carefully setting down the plant right by the window, as per Pearl’s insistence, Franziska closed and locked her apartment door before placing the apartment keys in the bowl right next to it. Perfect. Smiling slightly to herself, she turned back around to enact step two of the already slightly strayed-from plan-

Only to see that the girl had climbed onto the kitchen counter and was attempting to grab a glass from one of the higher cupboard shelves.

“Pearl Fey!” Franziska scolded, and Pearl froze, slowly turning her head with a guilty look on her face like a kid caught stealing candy. “Get down from there this instant!”

“I need a cup to water Charley with!” The girl protested, turning back around. Franziska, having enough of this, stomped over and scooped the girl up, placing her back on the floor despite her protests. She then reached up, opened a different cupboard, took out a plastic cup, filled it with water using the sink, and held it out to the girl. Pearl stared at it like it was an alien.

“Well? Here’s your foolish cup to water your foolish plant.” She pushed the cup against Pearl’s chest, and Pearl instinctively grabbed it, eyes still fixated on it. Slowly, she looked up at Franziska, a completely neutral expression on her face, before turning around and walking towards the plant without a word.

Hmph. Fine, then. A von Karma doesn’t need a ‘thank you’ anyway.

~~~

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly. Franziska showed Pearl where she’d be sleeping, where the food in the kitchen was, and where the bathroom was, exactly as planned. The cup for watering the abomination was left sitting on the windowsill next to it, and Pearl spent most of the afternoon sitting and talking to the plant, occasionally inspecting its wilting leaf. She was an odd child, but at least she could entertain herself.

Franziska didn’t have the faintest clue how she would have entertained a child otherwise, not that she’d ever admit that to anyone. Except maybe Maya. Maybe.

Even so, time passed quite quickly, Franziska deciding to do some light reading in the living room to keep an eye on Pearl, and soon enough dinnertime came around. Franziska preferred to eat at precisely 8:00pm when she wasn’t planning on eating out, and planned to stick to that schedule as best she could. However, the challenge came when she realized she had to feed not only herself, but also the girl currently telling a plant a story about some prince.

“And then, the prince swung at the dragon! He couldn’t let it take the princess, she was the love of his life!” Blech. Children and their little romance stories. Disgusting.

What exactly did children eat? Pizza? Candy? Marshmallows?

“Pearl Fey.” It was better to just ask than fumble around. Pearl paused in her story, looking over at Franziska warily. “What do you eat for dinner?”

“Uh… food?” Pearl said, cocking her head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Yes, I gathered that. What type of food?”

“I just eat whatever Mystic Maya makes, or whatever is available at the temple.” Pearl shrugged, and Franziska repressed a frustrated sigh. This wasn’t helping.

“Fine. I will ask it another way, then. What do you want to eat for dinner?” This time, Pearl didn’t answer right away, her face scrunching up as if she was deep in thought. Then, she perked up.

“Mac and cheese!” Hm. Simple, both adult and child friendly, and Franziska knew she had a box of it in the pantry. Perfect.

“Good.” She said, marking her place in her book before standing from the couch. “It will be ready in ten minutes. Finish speaking with the foliage by then.” Pearl nodded, turning back to Charley and going right back into her tale.

Mac and cheese sounded pretty good right now.

~~~

Dinner went flawlessly, as to be expected. Pearl had downed her mac and cheese with the enthusiasm of a hungry child, and had let out a huge yawn almost immediately afterwards. Franziska, ever the attentive host, has taken this as a sign to get the girl to bed. Pearl had gone with only a small bit of protest on account of leaving Charley alone for the night, but her tiredness had quickly gotten the best of her.

Now, Franziska sat on her own bed, having changed into her night clothes and turned all the other house lights out apart from the one on her bedside table. She’d thought it best to move her reading to her bed so as to not disturb the sleeping child, lest she wake up an irritable Pearl. She finished the book she had been reading before glancing at the clock, seeing it was just past 10:00pm. Not quite tired yet, she took out her phone and decided to scroll through the day’s news articles to try and find something interesting… creak.

She heard footsteps in the hallway, then the bathroom door opening. Confused, she glanced over at her door–Pearl had gone to bed hours ago. Perhaps she had woken up to use the bathroom? Silence followed, and Franziska decided to disregard the noise, turning back to her phone.

At least, until she heard the faint sound of sniffling coming from the hall. Shoot.

Staring at the door for a moment, Franziska hesitated. She knew, at least partially, what was going on: Pearl was crying for some reason. Why? No clue. Perhaps she was missing Maya? Or she had a certain part of her nighttime routine that Franziska had missed that set her off? Or maybe she fell out of the bed and hurt herself?

Whatever it was, Pearl was choosing to hide in the bathroom instead of seeking out Franziska’s help. Despite Franziska’s bedroom light very clearly being on, it wasn’t like she’d have to wake her up or anything. It could mean it’s something personal that Pearl didn’t want to share with her, and getting up to help would be intruding on that privacy.

However, this was a child currently in Franziska’s care. And god forbid Franziska let a child continue crying when she can do something about it–she wasn’t her father, after all. Shuffling out of bed, she quietly creaked open her own door, taking soft steps toward the bathroom so as to not startle Pearl.

The bathroom door was closed, and upon slightly jiggling the handle, also locked. The movement of the doorknob caused the sniffling inside to go silent, though a few choked sobs could be heard through the door, as if Pearl was covering her mouth with her hands to suppress the noise. Franziska stopped to think–she had to handle this correctly. Walking away now wouldn’t help anything, but she had no idea what she could do.

It wasn’t like she’d had caring parents to show her what to do in a situation like this. Whenever she’d cried as a kid, she’d had to hide from her father or risk being punished for it. A von Karma didn’t cry… but Franziska did. As a child, she had quite a bit. It had been lonely before Miles Edgeworth had come along, with his customs foreign to her. Before father had whipped him into shape, he’d said crying was natural.

He’d never judged her for her breakdowns. Her vulnerabilities. Whenever she’d been having a rough night, they’d both sneak out of their rooms and…

That was it.

Franziska cleared her throat quietly.

“I’m going to make some hot chocolate.” She said, keeping her tone as soft as she could. It wasn’t natural for her to speak without lining her words with harsh consonants and bitterness, but she was working on it. “If you want some, I’ll make an extra mug.”

Silence. She didn’t take it personally, instead walking off towards the kitchen as she’d said, taking out two mugs and moving over to the pantry. She kept the hot chocolate powder behind some of the cereal boxes–a habit from when they were younger. One of the maids had kept it stocked for her and Miles, and they’d hid it from her father to stay out of trouble. After also grabbing a bag of small marshmallows, she made her way back to the counter.

Throwing together two mugs of hot chocolate was something she could do with her eyes closed at this point. It wasn’t a skill she’d ever expected to have, but it came in handy right now. Just as she was finishing up, she heard the bathroom door creaking open. Despite the urge to look up and see the state of Pearl, Franziska kept her eyes on the mugs, topping off the hot chocolate with exactly seven marshmallows each. After some careful consideration, she grabbed another handful and dropped the extra marshmallows into Pearl’s mug.

Sometimes, the extra marshmallows were justified. Just sometimes.

Finally glancing over at Pearl, mugs in hand, Franziska kept her expression carefully neutral. The girl’s eyes were red, tear-streaks under them, and she looked utterly exhausted. She also kept glancing around, as if looking for something lurking behind the couch or table. Franziska knew the signs of a nightmare, having experienced far too many herself, and knew she’d guessed right. Not saying a word, she held out the mug of hot chocolate to Pearl.

Pearl stared at it the same way she’d stared at the cup from earlier. This time, though, she reached out to take it, grabbing the handle and staring down at the sea of marshmallows. Franziska walked past her to the couch, sitting down. After a few seconds, Pearl followed, sitting down next to her, holding the mug in both of her hands.

They sat there, not talking about it, drinking their hot chocolate. While they sat, Franziska eyed the foolish plant in the corner. What was it doing to help Pearl, who had sat there all afternoon talking to it? Absolutely nothing. Pathetic.

“...I like hot chocolate.” Pearl mumbled into her drink, and Franziska felt herself relax slightly at the sound. She quietly hummed in agreement. Waiting for a moment to let the comfortable silence between them sit, Franziska decided to speak.

“It tends to help when I can’t sleep, so I keep it around.” She kept her eyes carefully trained on her mug when she saw Pearl glance over at her in her peripheral vision. The marshmallows were bobbing in the brown liquid, a faint line of steam rising and bringing heat to her face. It was calming, even now as she was older.

“When you can’t…?” It wasn’t a complete question, but Franziska knew what the girl was asking. Of course she did, she was perfect at interpreting childish fools after all, and actual children were only a step up.

“Nightmares.” Franziska bore her gaze down on the marshmallows, trying not to make the conversation seem like it was affecting her. One sunk under the surface. “My father.”

Silence grew again, except this time it wasn’t entirely comfortable. Franziska refused to look over at Pearl, not knowing what expression she’d be met with, and focused on taking another sip of her drink. She knew what she was doing–opening up about her own struggles was the best way to try and get Pearl to open up, she’d learned that from Maya–but it didn’t make it feel any less stifling.

“My mother.” Pearl muttered the words so quietly Franziska would have missed them had she not had perfect hearing. Franziska finally looked over at her, meeting her gaze with what she hoped was a reassuring gaze. The girl sniffled, clutching the mug tighter. “She… she hated Mystic Maya’s side of the family so much. She just wanted me to be powerful like them, and I couldn’t… I wasn’t…” Sobs wracked Pearl’s body again, the mug shaking in her grasp.

Franziska put her own mug down first, then reached over and gently took the other one from the girl’s grasp. Once it was set down on the coffee table, Franziska turned back to Pearl. She clenched and unclenched her hand for a moment, not sure what to do, before slowly reaching out to wrap an arm around Pearl, unsure if the girl would respond positively to the attempt. However, her worries were quickly quelled when the girl all but threw herself against Franziska’s chest, clenching the oversized night shirt like a lifeline. Franziska’s hands hovered for a moment before she returned the gesture, slightly awkwardly moving her hands up and down the girl’s back. 

“I just wanted her to be proud of me.” Pearl wailed against her chest, and Franziska held her just a small bit tighter, the words hitting just a bit too close to home.

You’ll be alright, little one. No one will hurt you again.

~~~

She wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there, but at some point the tears slowed down, and Pearl just lay against Franziska’s chest, their breathing completely in sync. A yawn escaped from Pearl’s mouth. Right, she ought to be getting tired again. Franziska spared a momentary glance to the half-finished hot chocolate on the table, but decided to deal with it in the morning. It could wait.

“Come on, time for bed.” Franziska whispered, shuffling slightly. Pearl tensed up, breathing growing shallower again, and Franziska stopped, thinking. After a moment, she readjusted so her arms slid under Pearl’s before hoisting the girl up into her arms and standing. Luckily, Pearl was quite light, so carrying her was no more difficult than carrying that damned plant.

“I-”

“Shhhh.” Franziska moved carefully towards her bedroom, the light on her bedside table still turned on. Once Pearl seemed to realize where they were, she slumped slightly in Franziska’s arms. Franziska set Pearl down gently, draping a blanket across her before flicking off the light and walking around the bed to lay down on the opposite side.

It only took a few seconds before Pearl shuffled over and curled up against Franziska’s side. Franziska slid an arm around her in return. They lay there for a while, Franziska staring at the ceiling as she listened to the girl's breathing–even, calm. She’d thought Pearl had fallen asleep when she heard a small voice in the darkness.

“Ms. von Karma?”

“Hm?” In the dim room, Franziska felt less awkward glancing down at the girl curled up against her. She could make out her face in the darkness, still tucked into her side.

“Are you and Mystic Maya happy together?” After everything that had happened that day, Franziska could only smile at the question, letting her expression be free knowing there were no outside eyes watching.

“Very.”

“And… and you can still be special someones even if…” Her voice trailed off, and despite Franziska’s impeccable ability to decipher unspoken questions, there were a lot of directions this one could go.

“You can ask what you wish to, Pearl Fey. I won’t be mad.” Somehow, that seemed like the right thing to say. And it was.

“...even if you aren’t a prince and a princess?” Franziska lay there for a moment, confused at what fairytales had to do with any of this, but then it hit her. And oh, did it hit her hard.

‘Franziska von Karma! Never, ever, say something like that again!’ Her father spat in her face, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her away from the dinner table. Miles was watching in silent horror.

‘But father, I love her!’

She blinked a few times, shutting down the memory. That didn’t matter anymore. He was wrong. Refocusing on Pearl, she thought about what little the girl had revealed that night about her own mother, and took a soft breath to ground herself.

“A prince can love a princess, yes. But sometimes, princesses don’t fall for the princes.” She ran a hand through Pearl’s hair, which was slightly drooping out of its usual style. “Sometimes, she finds another princess, and even if some people decide to stare, the two princesses are happier together than they ever would be with princes.”

Her metaphors needed work, but Pearl seemed to understand.

“...Mystic Maya’s really happy with you.” She mumbled sleepily, and Franziska felt her slump against her side. Asleep. Good, the girl really needed it.

Franziska was about to close her own eyes when she heard her phone ding in her pocket. Right, she needed to silence that. Pulling it out, she silenced it before looking at the notification.

Two texts from Maya Fey.

She opened it.

Maya Fey: Hey Franzy! Cell service sucks up here :(

Maya Fey: Everything going ok with Pearly? Sry I left in such a rush this morning

Franziska looked down at the girl by her side and smiled.

Franziska: Everything is going well.

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 6

Big thanks to @emeraldgreaves for help with remembering some names/descriptions for this behemoth of a chapter for my  @shepherds-of-haven 20s AU. (9500 words. Have fun y’all I sure did) ---

The drive was, of course, uneventful. Wasn’t really long enough to be otherwise, though Xaeryn did peek a couple times for the car that tried to follow her on her first visit to the museum. They chatted about simple things; books they were reading, classes Red was teaching, one or two of Xaeryn’s past cases.

It was after she handed the car off to the valet and they’d been granted entry by the door staff that Xaeryn brought up one of her more mundane curiosities. 

“Liefred, I’ve been wondering...” she began as she found a good spot where she could watch arrivals without being obvious about it, waiting for his soft hum of acknowledgement. “With Pan being the one who drove into the city-”

“Yes, I know how to drive, Xaer,” Red laughed. “I just don’t have much need and so don’t own a car. I asked Pan to borrow his, but when he found out why I wanted it, he asked to come along to see you and Neon. Why?”

“Just curious. With your skill at translocating, but the inherent risks of that skill, I could see it going either way.” Xaeryn settled herself between a painting of the previous autarch and a display case containing a glided lance where she had a good view of the door.

“I’m probably a tad rusty at this point,” Red conceded with a wry smile. “The other reason I let Pan drive. But I do know the basics.”

“Good to know.” Her focus was caught by an arriving cluster of guests. Time to work.

“Someone catch your eye?” Red murmured, seeing where her gaze had gone.  “Or just getting a general match of faces and names?”

“The latter,” she said. “In case there’s anyone I need to talk to aside from the planned conversations, I won’t have to wander around like a fool looking for them.” 

“Always covering your bases,” he said with a soft, fond laugh.

“Makes me life easier down the road,” Xaeryn shrugged with a smile. Her attention was pulled from the entrance by a flurry of rose-petal pink.

“Miss Shrike, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Miss Acquell commented brightly as she approached. She winced briefly, then smiled, pushing her spectacles back up her nose. “I’m happy to, of course, but-”

“I knew what you meant,” Xaeryn broke in gently. “Whitestone Couriers were kind enough to secure my entry so I could continue my investigation.” She gave Red’s arm a light squeeze. “And this is my friend Liefred Antiqua. He’s Headmaster of Solhadur Academy, and gracious enough to accompany me on short notice. Liefred, Shery Acquell, museum curator.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Red said holding out one hand, “and you’re welcome to call me Red.”

“Oh, charmed as well,” Miss Acquell said, shaking his hand and dropping an abbreviated curtsy that bobbed both the frills on her rosy dress and the loose curls of hair. “And you can call me Shery.” She looked up at Xaeryn, bit her lip.  “Would... this investigating involve talking to guests?”

Xaeryn nodded. “There’s a couple. Ms. Aescar, for one, if she shows. But I promise to be discreet and courteous. The last thing I want, for my sake and the museum’s, is to cause a scene. I work better the less I stand out.”

“Good,” Miss Acquell sighed. “Thank you.” She looked a touch frazzled, Xaeryn noted, despite the evening having just begun.

“Everything alright, Shery?” she probed, watching for tells there was something the curator was leaving unsaid. 

“Oh, this sort of event is just... a lot for me,” Miss Acquell said with a bashful laugh. “But they’re good publicity for the museum, so I’ll manage,” she smiled, adjusting her spectacles again. “Even if my assistants seem to have vanished again...” She waved a hand when Xaeryn started to speak. “I’m sure they’ll turn up.  Like as not just helping new arrivals or something similar. It’ll be fine.”

“Of course it will,” Red smiled, gestured at the room, “you’ve done an excellent job with the set up, I’m sure the evening will be wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Miss Acquell said, tension easing slightly from her shoulders at the warmth in his voice. Xaeryn smiled to herself at how easily he had that effect on people. “I have some things I need to check on, but Miss Shrike, good to see you and Red, good to meet you.” She was off in a whirl before either could reply.

Red nodded toward the door, where a lavender-haired socialite and a pair of full Hunters had just arrived, heading toward the main crowd of now-assembled gentry. “I believe it’s time to mingle, Miss Shrike, so it doesn’t raise brows when you start interrogating people.”

She fought for composure past the mirth in his eyes. “I will have informative conversations, Headmaster Antiqua,” she said loftily, fighting a smile. “Just because I’m not gifted to do it as smoothly as you doesn’t mean I’ll muff it entirely.”

“I know, I know,” Red assured her with a grin. “First rate snoop and bees’ knees when it comes to digging out what you need to know.” He held out his arm.  “Shall we mingle?”

“If we must,” Xaeryn sighed with only marginally exaggerated dismay, slipping her arm through his as they headed to strike up conversation.

---

The mingling went well. Having Red at her side helped polish some of the rough edges to Xaeryn’s conversational skills, and she found herself warming with only slight reluctance to the concept of small talk. When he finally broke off to go gape at an artefact that caught his eye--a gigantic sphere of green-patinaed metal--she let him go. She knew him well enough to know he’d been practically squirming with anticipation for at least ten minutes.

She turned her attention to a nearby pair of paintings. Her own artistic talents might lie more in the direction of sketching, but she did appreciate other mediums, and these were both gorgeous examples.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” The speaker proved to be the lavender-haired socialite she’d seen entering earlier. Faint auburn roots only just peered through in a couple places, making the hair color a choice rather than gift of nature. Interesting. Not many Norms chose to associate with something so common among Diminished. “I’ve always loved her use of color,” she continued, gesturing to the paintings.

Xaeryn nodded. “As do I. She makes it a point to use light and shadow to full effect and the results are..” she glanced at the left-hand portrait, a sunrise over Haven that made her chest ache it was so well done. “...breathtaking. Are these your contribution to the exhibit, then?”

“Oh, no, darling,” the woman laughed. “My support has been strictly financial.” She toyed with her silver edged fan and smiled. “I simply noted a fellow admirer of Mme. Laryia’s works and couldn’t resist a chat.”

“It is keen to find someone with similar interests at an event like this,” Xaeryn agreed. She studied the other portrait, a dazzling depiction of light through the trees over an Elven city. Vale, maybe? It looked like artistic vision rather than one specific location.

“It is, indeed.” The fan flipped open and closed. “I believe there are more of her works throughout the exhibit, as accent to other displays.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Xaeryn said, sensing their conversation nearing its end.

That was confirmed a moment later when a man with sky blue hair swept back in a low tail approached and offered the woman a champagne flute. “Sorry for the wait, people are chatty tonight.”

“It’s alright, Rhy,” she took it with a smile, “As you can see, I managed to occupy myself.” She smiled at Xaeryn and linked her arm through her escort’s. “It was nice chatting with you.”

“And you,” Xaeryn smiled back, not at all ruffled by the dismissal. Brief and polite was how she preferred her bull sessions.

Besides, taking in the portraits had moved her close enough to not draw attention if she chose to chat with Ms. Aescar, who was currently not engaged in conversation, and she didn’t want to pass up a chance at a one on one talk with the elusive heiress. Hers had been an easy entrance to mark, even from halfway across the room--she came alone, for starters, and her dress was far more sheer than anything Haven fashion would dare offer. She’d also arranged herself in one of the more distant edges of the hall where she could see anyone approach. An instinct no doubt born of coming from the Jalis desert and honed through years of traveling solo.

She saw the moment Ms. Aescar noted her approach, and was encouraged when she didn’t act to avoid an interaction, even if she looked less than thrilled it was occurring.

“And what do you want?” Ms. Aescar asked bluntly, folding wiry muscled arms over her chest as she arched a brow at Xaeryn. 

“Just a chat, Ms. Aes-”

“Ayla,” she interrupted. 

“Ayla, then,” Xaeryn corrected herself, silently lamenting the number of people on this case who insisted on informality. What did they have against etiquette?  “My name is Xaeryn Shrike, and I wanted to talk about your artefact in this exhibit.”  She gestured at the room.

“Yeah, haven’t seen it yet, d’they do a good job with the display?” Ms. Aescar asked.

“Actually,” Xaeryn began, remembering her call to the Aescar estate, how Marja had said Ms. Aescar might not even know Solimer’s Torch was missing. “It isn’t here. It was stolen after arriving in the city and I’ve been hired to find it.”

“Oh,” Ms. Aescar grunted, her brows twitching. “Ironic after how much that Syndran fella went on about their security measures.”

“Mr. Syndran is the one who hired me,” Xaeryn said. She’d seen him and Ms. Aerin across the room but not yet had a chance to chat. “He’s doing his utmost to ensure its retrieval.” 

“Thanks for that, I guess,” Ms. Aescar muttered, leaning back against the wall. “If it’s missin’, why do you wanna talk to me?”

“To see if any other attempts have been made,” Xaeryn explained, grateful for the distance from the main party for this chat. “Has anyone recently tried to buy it or steal it or anything like that?”

“I’ve had a few offers to buy it over the years,” Ms. Aescar said with a shrug.  “The whole ownership mess that keeps cropping up. There was a break-in attempt Marja told me about maybe a year ago? I wasn’t home at the time. But the bastards didn’t make it inside the estate, so we dunno what they were after.” 

“And were any of the purchase offers... serious?” Xaeryn probed. She glanced around the room, checking to see if their conversation was raising any eyebrows. Red was still making a slow, awestruck loop of the sphere, Mr. Syndran was chatting with Miss Acquell, but she didn’t see any ears pricked to her and Ms. Aescar.

“Couple weren’t overly keen when I turned ‘em down,” Ms. Aescar said with another shrug. “If that’s what you mean. None of ‘em were high enough to give serious consideration.” 

“Hmmm. Xaeryn bit her lip. “I have to confess I’m a bit confused, then, Ayla. Ms. Aerin mentioned you were... less concerned about security than many of their clientele. Why is that, if you find the Torch too valuable to sell?”

“Not so much ‘unconcerned’ as figuring they know how to do their damn job without me stickin’ my nose in.” Ms. Aescar snorted. “Figured wrong there. My parents had an attachment to that piece before they... passed, so I hold on to it for them. I like the thought of it seein’ the world, like I do, so I let museums play host for a while each. And worryin’ about it when it’s in supposedly capable hands would keep me from enjoyin’ my trips, so I don’t worry.”

“Must be nice to travel so much,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings as memories of her own travels stirred in her mind. “I was a bit of a wanderer myself until I had to settle down to pay the bills.”

“It’s a good life,” Ms. Aescar agreed readily. “Seen some amazing places. You ever make it to the Ivory Isles?”

“No, sadly, the ticket was a bit out of my price range, but I’ve seen Courtshore, which was lovely.” She glanced around again. “No escort tonight?”

“No need,” Ms. Aescar snorted, her eyes glinting. “I can take care of myself. And unless yours is invisible, you don’t appear to have any room to talk.”

“Not invisible, just a history buff,” Xaeryn laughed, pointing at Red. “This gala is like a candy store to him, the least I can let him do for coming with me is look around.”

“Candy store you’re allowed to touch.”

“Heh, true.” Xaeryn watched Red a moment longer. biting back a smile at his enthusiasm. “Just one more question-” She stumbled to a verbal halt when she found Ms. Aescar smirking at her. “What?”

“I’ll be you two make a real cute couple,” Ms. Aescar snarked.

“Oh, we’re not... together like that,” Xaeryn fumbled as her neck grew hot. “He’s a friend.”

“You’re goggling him the same way he’s gogglin’ that statue or whatever the fuck it’s supposed to be,” Ms. Aescar informed her. “He know you’re stuck on him?”

“Hopefully not,” Xaeryn said, trying valiantly to reclaim lost dignity. She hadn’t though she was nearly so obvious. “As I was saying, Ms. Aes-”

“Ayla.”

“Ayla, I just have one more question and then I’ll leave you alone. You wouldn’t happen to recall who made any of the purchase offers on Solimer’s Torch, would you?”

“There was a warlord from Jalis I shut down damn quick,” Ms. Aescar replied promptly, “Couple collectors, one or two mutis tryin’ to claim ownership made offers before they started raisin’ a ruckus ‘bout it actually being theirs.”

“Who?” Xaeryn asked, mentally crossing her fingers. Depending on passage of time, this might be something of a long shot.

“One of those fuckers fighting over the island in the south-”

“Elinden?” Xaeryn offered, mental fingers crossed even harder.

“Yeah, that one. I think the other’n is somewhere east? But they don’t have much of a claim and didn’t make much of an offer, so I didn’t have them figured for serious and didn’t hang on to the name. We done?”

“Yes. Thank you, very much, for the enlightening conversation, Ayla.”

“Yeah, sure, hope it helps you find my artefact.”

“I’m fairly positive it will,” Xaeryn said, and hurried for a corner where she could scribble out some notes. Standing as she’d been to chat up Ms. Aescar, there hadn’t been a way to take them as she talked.

“Industrious as always, I see,” Ms. Aerin commented, coming to a stop by the bench where Xaeryn had settled for her task. Between her heels and her posture, she almost seemed to loom, which was an... interesting reversal. 

“I am here to work,” Xaeryn pointed out. “Enjoying the party” --or at least its locale-- “is a bonus, but the job comes first.” She filled a page with shorthand notation before flipping the notepad closed.

“Did you fill the other one so fast?” Ms. Aerin asked.

She frowned. “Pardon?”

“Your notebook,” Ms. Aerin nodded to the red-bound pad as Xaeryn slipped it in her clutch. “It’s new. Did you really fill the other so quickly?”

Now Xaeryn’s brows arched toward her hairline. She knew the woman was sharp-eyed, but the brief glimpse still wouldn’t have been enough for most to notice.  “Impressive catch, and no, I didn’t fill it. My handbag was stolen.”

“The red is a bit more eye-catching a color than previous,” Ms. Aerin brushed off the praise with a furrowing brow. “And do you mean to tell me some... rapscallion out there now has all your notes?!”

“Only if he didn’t discard them as worthless,” Xaeryn said dryly. “Even if he could read my shorthand, I can’t imagine I have anything recorded that would interest a dip.”

“Ah, yes, your little trick to ensure no one but you reads your notes,” Ms. Aerin said, adjusting her bracelets. “I’m even more grateful for it now.”

“Well, me and Red,” Xaeryn reminded, with a vague wave toward where she’d seen him. “I’m surprised you would forget that, since it was of such concern to you that your trade secrets stay secrets.” 

“I have a lot on my plate, as you know, Detective Shrike,” Ms. Aerin said tartly. “I was swayed by your assurances our secrets would be safe. Should I have believed differently?”

“Not at all,” Xaeryn said. “None of them will escape as a result of this.”

“Glad to hear it, Detective.” Ms. Aerin flashed a distracted smile and glanced across the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on some things with Miss Acquell. And I’m certain you have more to do.”

“Of course. Good to see you, Ms. Aerin.”

“And you, Detective Shrike.”

They parted, and Xaeryn decided it would be wise to check back in with Red before she continued her mingling. He was, despite the length of her absence, still staring at the large sphere that had caught his eye.

“Must be quite a find to hold your interest for this long,” she teased, coming to stand next to him.

“This is a Worldwalker artefact, Ryn,” he replied, not looking away from his study of the etching that covered the surface. “I’d give my left arm and my tenure to have a month to study it.”

Xaeryn smiled, heart skipping a beat as she watched him him. Like a kid at Wintersun, she thought fondly. “You could talk to Shery, you know. And if the museum was amenable to it being studied, I doubt she would require so hefty a payment.”

“Just my left arm, then?” Red joked, though the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her made her wonder if he half-meant it. “Might be worth it.” He turned to face her fully. “Did you need me for something?”

“No,” Xaeryn shook her head, “just wanted to see how you were doing, maybe talk to someone I know and like for a minute.”

He chuckled. “I’ll happily fill some of your time, Xaer. How go the informative conversations?”

Her heart skipped again, trying not to think about Ms. Aescar’s comment.  “Very informative, actually. There have been parties interested in the torch, including the one you mentioned I should look into.”

“That is informative,” he agreed, offering her his arm. She slipped hers through without a second thought, and they started a turn around the room. Leisurely pace, looking at artefacts as they walked. “You have an awful lot pointing in the same direction, then.”

“I do, indeed.” She glanced over toward King Kaza of Elinden, currently engrossed in chatting with a politician she vaguely recognized--Jarreth, Jarket, something like that, his pink-haired companion standing close but her eyes clearly alight at the pageantry involved in a gala. “Now I just need a chance to talk to him. I feel like he wouldn’t take kindly to an interruption.”

“Suppose you’ll have to talk to me longer, then,” Red said with a wink as they slowed by a display case housing a beautiful, broken silver javelin. “If you think you can manage it.”

“I’ll find a way to muddle through,” Xaeryn laughed. As if you aren’t the only one here I really want to talk to. “Surrounded by this much history, I’m sure we can mange one of those hours-long talks we had in school.” Her brow furrowed when she read the display placard. “A hraqa?!”

Red’s brows arched and he studied the weapon with new intensity. “I didn’t think Hunters let those leave their side, let alone out of the Reach.”

“We don’t,” a gravelly, melodic voice said from nearby. “We were not given a choice in this instance.”

She looked up from the case, and then more to meet the gaze of the Hunter standing nearby, one of the pair she’d seen enter near the gala’s start, as if guarding the case. “How so?”

“This was taken as a prize of conquest during the Castigation,” the Hunter said grimly. “My family has spent generations trying to trace it, so it can be returned where it belongs. We finally learned of its inclusion in this... exhibit” --there was a barely noticeable trace of disdain on the word-- “with just enough time to attend and see what will be required to reclaim something that should never have left our care in the first place.” He caught himself with a faint grimace and inclined his head. “Forgive my manners. Sola Naolin Prince.” The words were paired with a shallow formal bow.

Xaeryn and Red introduced themselves in turn. “Are you planning to speak with the museum curator, then?”

Naolin gave a stiff nod. “And whomever else I need to; I understand this location is but one stop of many, so the decision may not rest entirely in her discretion.”

“You would be correct,” Xaeryn said. “Her authority only extends to which things are on display here and how. Though these are deeply personal weapons for you, aren’t they? You could petition for it to be removed from display while you speak with whoever claims ownership.”

In her periphery, she caught Red’s lips twitch toward a smile at her phrasing before he spoke. “I’d imagine it would be easier to repatriate than some things. Even with the... limited familiarity of Hunter customs, it’s known hraqa are sacred.” He frowned slightly. “I’m honestly surprised they would display it at all.”

“So I noticed,” Naolin said dryly, a touch of cynicism in his tone. “As you said, most don’t know much about our culture. I imagine a clever liar could spin a tale that would override any hesitance on the part of a curator. I do hope you’re correct that it will be a smooth process to reclaim, I shouldn’t be away from my duties as sola for long.” There was something in his silvery eyes that spoke to not letting that hope run too rampant, all the same. “Until I have opportunity to speak with someone, however, I intend to ensure this hraqa is afforded as close to its due respect as possible.”

“Admirable,” Xaeryn said, examining the hraqa again. There was an ancient, evocative beauty to its design. She could see how curators could be persuaded to display it. “Best of luck in your reclamation efforts, Sola Naolin. We won’t distract you any longer, but it was good chatting with you.”

“And you as well,” Naolin said with a formal half-bow.

Xaeryn and Red moved off, still arm in arm.

“You really think it’ll be that easy for him to get it back?” she asked idly, half-smiling as they passed the case with the necklace Thieves Guild had been planning to steal. 

“You don’t?” Red returned, shooting her a curious look.

“It might be less trouble than the mugs trying to claim the torch are having, just because there’s precedent for hraqas being culturally relevant and highly personal, bordering on religious, for Hunters. Arguing for its return to the Reach, to the people, won’t be hard. But if the person currently holding ownership finds a way to insist it be passed to an heir rather than the people as a whole if it’s so personal, they could muddy the waters and make it a good deal more difficult to untangle. Life’s not all berries, Liefred.”

“It’s not all rocks and hardship, either, Ryn,” he said with a fond smile that made her bite her lip. “I know the Hunters have kept themselves somewhat isolated since the Castigation and that makes them a bit more of a grey area than, say, Mages, but something like a hraqa has enough known significance they should be able to argue for the sol taking responsibility until the bloodline can be traced, if necessary.”

“Mm.” She did think he was being a trifle optimistic, but he also made a good point. “I’m sure that Shery would remove it from display, at least, if he asked. Spare having so intimate an aspect of their culture out there for the world to see.”

Red’s lips parted as if to say something, then he pressed them together and shook his head faintly. His attention was caught a moment later by a glass case displaying a trio of ancient tomes and their conversation was forgotten. “Is that what I think it is?!”

Xaeryn bit back a laugh as he tugged her along, grateful he remembered to walk instead of bolt over. “If you think it’s the collected work of Weyellan the Lifegiver, it appears the answer is yes.”

He flashed an almost sheepish smile as they slowed close to the case. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” she smiled. A glance across the room showed King Kaza finally done his conversation with the politician. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, slipping her arm free, and couldn’t resist teasing a little. “Try not to leave nose prints on the glass.”

Red laughed and ran one hand through his hair. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

She clicked her tongue quietly and used her fingers to fix the tousled state of his hair before leaving. It was hard to miss the twinkle in his eye, and she wondered if that was over her actions, or the case full of old books.

To work again. Xaeryn shook off the thoughts as she approached King Kaza. His posture bore out accounts she’d read alluding to his arrogance, and he surveyed the room with hard eyes even as he leaned over to murmur in his companion’s ear. There was a sharpness, a cunning in those eyes that warned her to tread carefully in this conversation.

She inclined her head respectfully as soon as her approach caught his eye.  “Would I have the honor of addressing King Kaza Akshin, the Lightning-Cutter?” she asked, softening her tone to rather more awed than she actually felt. 

He smirked, brows arched as he gave a magnanimous nod. “You would. It is gratifying to see my name has spread so far.”

“It has certainly done that,” Xaeryn said. “How are you finding the gala?”

King Kaza’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Far more frivolous and shallow than anything we would host in Elinden,” his companion nudged him and he shot her a stormy look before continuing, “but I can see why the glamor would attract a crowd such as this. Very fancy.”

“Some people enjoy fancy parties. Highness,” his companion interjected, grimacing a little as she hastened to include the honorific.

“And when did I say I did not?” the king returned with a hard-edged chuckle.  “Different as it may be, there is much to be enjoyed even here.” He gestured at the hall, sweeping to include exhibits and guests alike. “Such a display of wealth. So many potential alliances.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?” Xaeryn asked, toying with her necklace.  “Looking for allies? I understand there’s still... turmoil in Elinden, and this would be a good crowd in which to find support. Wealthy, as you said, and... willing to contribute to something they find worthwhile.”

King Kaza’s eyes gleamed. “Very astute, Miss...” He arched a brow as the words trailed off.

“Forgive me, Circe Blackwood,” Xaeryn introduced herself. Something about the man--his reputation, the hardness of his eyes--cautioned she keep some cards close. An ace up her sleeve, as it were. “I’m glad you see something of value in this crowd. They are, after all, the reason this gala is occurring; contributors and financiers of a truly valuable celebration of culture and history. Always a smart thing to remember where we came from.”

“And which of those would you be, Circe?” There was challenge under the curiosity in the pink-haired woman’s voice.

“Oh, neither, Miss...?” Xaeryn laughed lightly to disguise the searching once-over. 

“Stormbreaker,” King Kaza replied before she opened her mouth. “My escort. Bodyguard, you would say. And what do you mean, neither?”

“I find things.” It was, technically, not a lie. Xaeryn refrained from commenting on the irony of someone known as Lightning-Cutter having a bodyguard named Stormbreaker. “I’ve helped the museum and a few others here locating things they sought.” Slightly closer to a lie, as that contract wasn’t past tense yet. “Do you need help finding anything? I’m very good at my job.”

King Kaza chuckled mirthlessly. “The only things I have sought I have found.”

“Lucky for you,” Xaeryn said with a wry laugh. Had pride flickered in his eyes with the comment? She definitely caught a muscle twitch in Stormbreaker’s jaw. “You can enjoy the party, take in the sights” --she gestured to the cases-- “maybe make some friends that will come in handy.”

“What do you know of Elinden’s situation, Miss Blackwood?” the king asked with a keen look. “To comment friends coming in handy?” 

“Powerful friends always come in handy,” she deflected, bobbing her head toward the politician he’d been chatting with earlier. She toyed with her necklace and parsed through what she’d learned for an answer that wouldn’t make him antsy. “I know Elinden’s been in a... multi-faction civil war for a while, that you claimed the throne, and that at least one other faction vocally challenges you.”

“More like three,” Kaza said, holding up fingers to emphasize. “This is why I seek friends; if other nations will recognize my claim, perhaps that will silence the dissenters. And, if not, perhaps it will give me in-roads to places more accepting of my authority.”

“Wise to play the angles,” Xaeryn said with a nod, watching Stormbreaker’s hands flex at her sides. “I hope you’ll also have time for a look around. With so many rare and beautiful things under one roof, surely there’s something to dazzle and catch your eye.”

“I am intrigued by the artefacts from Jalis, true.” The king tipped his head toward that portion of the room. “Quite striking that a number of their designs bear similarity to those of my home.”

“Perhaps a common ancestor?” Xaeryn suggested.

“Perhaps,” King Kaza shrugged. “But I have taken enough of your time, Miss Blackwood.”

“Oh, I always enjoy talking to keen folks like yourself, highness,” she said with a laugh. A flicker of movement caught her eye; Red was done examining the books and was heading her way. “But I do see my partner looking for me, so I’ll leave you to it.” She nodded a semi-formal farewell and turned to head for Red. She hadn’t said anything about a possibility of false names and needed him in the know before anyone chatted him up.

“Good talk?” he asked as they drew near, slowing to offer her his arm.

“Positively enlightening,” Xaeryn said with a smile, slipping her arm through his and taking the opportunity to lean in close. “If he or his companion strike up a conversation, I’m Circe Blackwood, I find things, and you’re my partner.”

“Do I get to contribute to this backstory?” Red laughed, taking it in stride.

“Any way you like,” Xaeryn replied lightly. “In fact, I’m curious to see what your creative prowess can do.”

That got a chuckle. “I’ll see what I can come up with. For now, are we mingling more...?”

“Maybe a bit,” she said with a sigh. “But I’d rather just take in the exhibit. I haven’t seen as much of it as you with all the bumping gums.”

Red smiled. “Need a break from people?”

“That’s about the size of it,” she nodded ruefully. “At least from making them my focus.”

“Say no more.” He winked and steered her toward a section of displays garnering far less attention than the ones at the front of the large room.

“Do you even know what’s over here?” Xaeryn asked with a laugh.

“No, but I know it’s old and likely from far away, so I’m pretty sure we’ll find it at least a little interesting.”

“Point,” she grinned. The first case proved to be of more interest to her; journals of the first High Augar appointed post-Castigation, as well as a few preserved vestments. Red didn’t wander off, however, his arm comfortably looped through hers until they moved on to the next case. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” Red shot her a curious look.

“You know...” Probably best not to mention his feelings toward the One-God’s church in the seat of that faith, surrounded by wealthy and powerful adherents. “Being available to help on such short notice. I know social events are something you enjoy, but I did ask very last minute.”

“And like I said, I always have time for you, Xaer,” he said with a boyish smile.  “Besides, the chance to see all these artefacts was too good to pass up.”

“Oh, of course,” Xaeryn laughed, warmth twisting in her chest at the sight of his dimple. “How silly of me to think Liefred Antiqua would ever skip the chance to be in a room full of historic relics.”

Red shrugged, smile turning wry. “Guilty as charged.” He cast an admiring look at the next case, slowing to take in the engraved script that decorated the warhammer it held. “Ryn, I wanted to ask-”

“Enjoying the gala, Miss Shrike?”

Xaeryn swiveled to face the interruption, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, but not enough to forget my snooping, Mr. Syndran, no worries.”

He glanced between her and Red and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I apologize for interrupting and do trust your methods, I merely wanted to check if your time has paid off this evening.”

“Very well,” she said, catching his almost vampiric grin at her glance toward King Kaza. “Definitely making progress. Didn’t Miss Aerin pass that along? I spoke to her earlier.”

“Aerin’s been... a bit distracted this evening. She handled most of the logistics to set this up and I think she keeps forgetting it’s out of her hands and into the museum’s.” He brushed something off the sleeve of his jacket. “As I’m sure your office would be a better place for a detailed discussion, shall I come by tomorrow morning? I’m very interested in a full accounting of what you learned tonight.”

“Nine o’clock should work for me,” Xaeryn said, making a rapid guesstimate how much sleep she’d need and when she’d get home tonight. 

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.” With a final sharp nod, Mr. Syndran took his leave.

“No introductions, Xaer?” Red whispered playfully.

She snorted a laugh. “A thousand pardons for trying to get the business conversation done as fast as I could. If you drop by my office while Mr. Syndran is there, I’m sure he’d love to meet my research assistant.” That earned her a laugh and she had to clear her throat to stave off the rising warmth in response.  “What... What were you about to ask?”

“Ah.” Something hesitant, almost bashful, crept across Red’s features before a warm smile returned. He gestured with his free hand toward the back end of the hall, and the glaringly open space she’d been trying to ignore all night because it made her pulse spike. “Do you... want to dance?”

Her better judgment, struggling to hold years of unspoken sentiment at bay, immediately insisted it was a bad idea. She would let slip something she shouldn’t, make things awkward, lose a friend. She’d been worried about the risk of this very scenario, remember?

She did remember. She’d also never managed to tell Red Antiqua no in her life and didn’t really want to start now. Not when he was looking at her like that; all boyish grin and twinkle in his eyes. She’d been right, she wasn’t strong enough. “Sure.”

The boyish grin widened, the twinkle looked almost like relief for a moment before returning to mischief. “Well, then...” he slipped his arm free of hers and offered his hand instead.

Sun above, she tried to keep her breathing steady as she slid hers into it, but the familiar, lightly callused warmth seemed to shoot straight up her arm to her chest, burning as it went.

Their timing was excellent; the musicians just transitioning between songs as they reached the edge of the dance floor, the singer humming along with the introductory notes before she reached the lyrics.  The new tune was something slower, just shy of mid-tempo, and Xaeryn was pleased at the prospect of of enjoying a more leisurely, platonic dance with her best friend.

“Has focusing on work helped make this more bearable?” Red asked as they joined the scattering of other couples for the new dance. “I know you’re usually not keen on this much socializing.”

She laughed, trying to ignore the strains of the lyrics starting, as they undermined attempts to think platonic thoughts.. ‘I must confess that I like you, but there is something amiss...’

 “It has, actually. All the fascinating artefacts and history, as well, though nothing so much as having a good friend along for emotional support.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s my good fortune I have one who could come, especially since he keeps turning heads and distracting people from what I’m up to.”

Red blushed at the teasing and shook his head. “You sure they aren’t looking at you, Ryn?” The dance brought them closer together and he smiled. “I know we made light of it earlier, but you do look lovely.” Nothing in the world existed outside the sincerity shining in his green eyes. “I’m sure some of the turning heads are for you.”

A small, breathless chuckle escaped her, face hot from more than the lights and dancing. “Thank you.  I likewise meant it when I said you look handsome.” She smiled.  “Much as the rumpled professor look suits you, I like this one, too.” Xaeryn toyed with the lapel of his jacket. “I haven’t seen you this dolled up since...”

“The graduation dance,” he finished when memory made the words trail off.

 ‘...I know some who are always on the go, but here’s what I like best...’ 

Before we left. After a few moments of following the steps without speaking, Xaeryn asked softly, “Why didn’t we keep in touch?”

Red sighed. “We meant to, didn’t we?” he said, just as softly. The music slowed, as did their movements to match. “I suppose it was a combination of neither having a travel itinerary beyond see the world, so we never knew where to send letters, and then everything with Tevanti...”

“Guess I was lost to the great wide somewhere by the time you got bolted to one place, wasn’t I?” she conceded wryly. A moment’s weighty hesitation and she confessed, more to his tie than him, “I almost stopped by Solhadur a few years ago.” Red’s hand twitched tighter around hers as she continued. “On my way to Haven, once I came to grips with needing to settle somewhere and earn a steady living.”

“Why.. Why didn’t you?” Red asked quietly.

Xaeryn lifted her gaze back to meet his. “Figured everyone was gone. I knew you wanted to travel, thought Pan and Neon and everyone would’ve found jobs and lives elsewhere. That’s how graduations go, isn’t it? Everyone splits to the four winds? In the end, wandering the ground and bumping gums with Tevanti wasn’t enough draw to pull me from my course.”

He chuckled. “Very you. Once you set your mind to something, there’s not much that can derail you.” 

She laughed, then tugged his arm to move them off the dance floor as they’d they’d slowed even beyond the tempo of the music and walking was probably better.   ‘...Fold me in your arms, it’s your affection I crave...’ 

 “It makes me a good detective,” she said lightly. “...If I’d known you were there, I would’ve come by.” No need to mention how much she’d missed him, but, “It would have been nice to reconnect earlier.”

“It would have,” Red agreed, then smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. “But we managed it anyway, and I’m happy with that.”

One-God, but it was warm in here. “Me, too,” Xaeryn smiled back. There was something in his smile that made her stomach do an extra flip, but even as she opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly foolish, a flash of pink and blue caught her eye and she was reminded--brutally--that she was here to work.

King Kaza’s bodyguard was heading for one of the side doors. Her stride and manner were casual enough, but there was a determination to her path obvious to a trained eye.

Xaeryn sighed. Two more minutes, couldn’t I have two more minutes?

“What?” Red frowned at her shift in demeanor.

“I see a lead I need to follow before I lose it.” She bit her lip in calculated thought, then tugged out her keys and shoved them into his hand. “Take my car back to the office.”

“What?! Wh-”

“If someone think my being here is hinky, me disappearing while you’re still around will confirm their suspicions, but if we’re both gone it just means we left. I’ve chatted up everyone I need to anyway, I shouldn’t be more than an hour behind you.”

“Xaer, I’m not leaving you a-”

“I can take care of myself, Liefred.” Stormbreaker was almost out of the room. Xaeryn curled Red’s fingers around the keys and caught his eye. “Trust me.”

He sighed but nodded and headed for the front door. Xaeryn waited long as she dared, then headed after Stormbreaker.

The museum was dark, of course, outside the area where the gala was being held, dimmed lights every half dozen feet the only illumination. Stormbreaker’s silhouette was easy to follow, the shadows deep enough to mask Xaeryn’s progress. The only potential difficulty was distance, some turns were close enough together she could lose the woman if she wasn’t careful. Xaeryn slipped off her necklace and headband as she went, tucking them in her handbag so the glint wouldn’t betray her. She was three or four turns into following with a long straight hallway ahead when voices to the side caught her attention.

She hesitated, torn between the risk of losing Stormbreaker and concern over a possible ambush. It only took half a second for the latter to win. She didn’t want to deal with an unknown element behind her; those rarely ended well.  The door concealing the muffled, sporadic chatter was slightly ahead to her left. With one last glance toward Stormbreaker’s progress, Xaeryn eased up to the door. It bore an employees only placard but the knob was unlocked when she tested. There was another beat of chatter, quiet but heated, that hinted whoever was in the room beyond was oblivious to her presence. She twisted the knob and pulled the door open in one smooth motion.

The two figures in the room--a lanky Norm and tiny Elf--jumped to their feet as if electrocuted by her entrance, then shuffled in a belated attempt to hide the playing cards splayed atop an upside down bucket.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the Norm blurted, crossing his arms defensively. 

Xaeryn arched a brow, letting her gaze drifted deliberately over their uniforms and the keys hanging at his belt. “Nor are you, currently, I suspect,” she returned coolly. “Aren’t you meant to helping with the gala? This is awful far removed.”

“Yeah, but it’s boring, and there isn’t much needs doing anyway,” the Elf muttered, sweeping auburn hair out of her eyes.

“Curator Acquell would beg to differ,” Xaeryn said, letting her tone go downright frosty. “Get back to work or I will tell someone who will make you care to do so.”

She withdrew and returned to her pursuit without waiting to see if they listened, but smirked when she heard the scuffle of footsteps headed back toward the main hall behind her. 

Stormbreaker was, of course, gone from view even with her minimizing the delay. Xaeryn muttered a mild oath under her breath and headed in the direction she’d last seen the woman, but there was neither hide nor hair to be found. She still spent some time checking different halls and rooms in dwindling hope of finding some trace before giving up. Something to follow up on another day. Resigned she’d done everything she could, Xaeryn headed back to the main hall, planning to exit properly out the front door. She waved farewell to Shery from across the room, gratified to see her assistants were helping her now, and headed out of the museum. 

She’d barely made it past the pool of light that bathed the front entrance when a shadow to her right moved.

Fortunately, Xaeryn was on edge enough from the evening’s events to dodge and block the attacker, shifting back until she reached a nearby street light.

“Oh, good instincts on ya, then,” the bruno sneered, light glinting off metal in one hand. “If only they’d told ya to leave well enough alone.”

He lunged at her again and Xaeryn let her handbag drop to catch his wrist. She  twisted the knife away from her and followed up with a punch to the face. The knife clattered to the sidewalk and the man growled something uncomplimentary as he swung at her in turn. 

She dodged the full strength of the blow, but it still grazed her cheek with enough force to smart and make her stumble. So she punched him again. Then pivoted to drive her other elbow into his sternum hard enough she heard something crack. He dropped with a wheeze. Xaeryn barely paused long enough to collect her handbag and his knife before heading swiftly toward her office, face and hand pounding in time with her heart.

The hand was obvious; red oozing from her knuckles after landing two such hefty blows. She tugged out a handkerchief as she walked and wrapped her bleeding knuckles. She had a first aid kit, in her apartment, she could treat it properly there. This would do for now. 

---

Her door had never been so welcome a sight, and Xaeryn let out a sigh of relief as she opened it.

Red sat slouched in one of the extra chairs by her bookshelf, bowtie undone and jacket off. His head came up as the door opened and he almost dropped the book he was reading when the state she was in registered. For half a second, Xaeryn thought he was going to vault the desk instead of circling it to reach her.

“Gods, Ryn, are you alright?!” he demanded, skirting the desk and reaching her in just a few long strides. He caught himself just before his hand grazed the bruise decorating her left cheek, and rested it on her shoulder instead.

“I’m fine,” she said, at the same moment his gaze dropped to the handkerchief wrapped around her hand, the white fabric a sharp contrast to her dark skin. “Mostly,” she amended with a weak smile. She pushed the door closed and set her clutch and the knife on the corner of the desk.

Red gave her a skeptical look, his other hand curling loosely around her wrist.  “Do you have...?”

“In the kitchen,” she nodded toward the half-open door.

“Come on.” Red gently tugged her that direction, firmness in his voice that made her smile widen. He nudged one of the chairs out with his foot and let go of her arm only after he was sure she was settled, then dragged the other chair closer, dropping into it as he turned over her injured hand. “Let me see.”

“It’s not that bad,” Xaeryn mumbled, even as she winced at the cloth tugging against half-dried blood.

Red arched a brow at her, looked down significantly at her bloodied knuckles, and swallowed hard before he spoke. “What happened?”

“Oh, someone apparently doesn’t want me finding Solimer’s torch,” she said, trying for a light tone, but clearly falling short from his expression.

“Xaeryn,” he said softly.

Amazing how he could fit a whole lecture--no, that was uncharitable, a speech--into just her name. Red had always been a worrier. It shouldn’t surprise her. She supposed it didn’t, really. (Felt nice to be worried about, though.)

“I handled it,” Xaeryn promised, fingers curling as his thumb brushed the heel of her hand. She cleared her throat. “First aid supplies are top left cabinet. The green tin.”

He nodded, still staring at her hand, then tore his gaze away and stood to retrieve the supplies. “Right...”

“At least I don’t have to worry about you being able to reach them,” she teased as she watched him. It did make him smile, even if it didn’t reach his eyes.

Red set the tin on the table, shoved his sleeves up past his elbows and started pulling out what he needed to treat her hand. They sat in silence as he cleaned off half-dried blood, swabbed the skinned knuckles with antiseptic, bandaged it up. It wasn’t until he was smoothing the final layer of bandages and tucking in the end that he spoke. “So, planning to tell me what happened?”

Xaeryn shifted in the chair, kicking off her shoes, but made no move to pull her hand free. “There was a, ah, tough waiting for me outside the museum. He tried to stab me, so I did the only thing that made sense.”

“Called for help?” Red drawled, shooting her a fondly scolding look.

“Punched him in the face.” She coughed delicately. “Twice.”

“Xaeryn.”

She gave him a gentle smile as she reminded, “I can take care of myself, Liefred.”

He ran his thumb over her bandaged knuckles. “How many times will I have to remind you you can call me Red?” he asked softly, not letting go of her hand.

Xaeryn had to swallow hard before she could speak, staring at her hand cradled in his. “At least one more,” she said just as softly, then looked up, immediately caught in his deep green eyes. She hadn’t realized how close they were sitting until now, knees practically touching. “Or I might do something dreadfully improper.” That I won’t regret in the slightest.

Red bit his lip, hesitated as he leaned the barest fraction closer. His thumb brushed over the pulse point in her wrist as he murmured, “Like what?”

She flicked an inadvertent glance at his lips before dragging her gaze back up to meet his once more. “You’re a smart man. I think you can guess.”

“I-”

The heavy, carefree footsteps only gave them a half second’s warning before knuckles rapped wood and the office door creaked. “Red? Xaer? Hope you two are back with the door hanging open...”

Xaeryn flinched at the sound of Pan’s voice, wondered if she imagined the irritation-adjacent flicker in Red’s eyes, and cleared her throat. “In here, Pan.” She turned her hand to give Red’s a light squeeze before slipping free.

“Sorry I’m ahead of schedule, Neon has an early shift tomor-” Pan cut himself off when he reached the doorway and caught sight of them. “Gods’ blood, Ryn, what happened?!”

“Someone objects to my current investigation,” she said dryly. “There was a scuffle. But I’m fine, and you should see the other guy.”

Red shot her a suspicious look. “You just said you punched him in the face.”

“I also elbowed him in the chest hard enough I heard something break. On him, not me,” she clarified when he started to open his mouth.

Red dropped his head into his hands with a loud sigh, then raked his fingers through his hair.

Xaeryn and Pan shared a look that was just shy of a snicker.

“Least he won’t be following you any time soon,” Pan drawled, then smirked looking at how close the two of them were sitting. “And so fortuitous you had someone to help patch you up.”

Xaeryn bit her lip hard. “It would have been much trickier to do this one-handed, yes,” she said, flexing the fingers of her bandaged hand and hoping exhaustion overwhelmed any other emotion in her voice. “I’m lucky to have Liefred around.”

Red shrugged, the faintest hint of pink climbing his neck. “It wasn’t that hard, Ryn. I’m happy I could help.”

Pan’s smirk widened and he gestured back over his shoulder with one hand.  “That knife on your desk come from the loser of your scuffle?”

Xaeryn nodded as she pushed to her feet. “Didn’t seem wise to leave a weapon nearby, even if he was in no shape to use it.”

Pan scoffed and moved out of the doorway so she could step back into the office, Red close enough behind her some might call it hovering. It was a long shot there would be anything helpful or identifying about the knife, but it couldn’t hurt to look. She hadn’t taken time to examine it yet, with the scuffle and the Red-patching-her-up moment.

She picked it up to do so now, and almost dropped it immediately in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Red and Pan asked in unison, Red reaching out in support.

“This... is mine,” Xaeryn said slowly, trying to believe her goosebumps were from the coincidence and not his fingers brushing her elbow as she ran a more critical look over the dagger to confirm.

“How the hael is that possible?” Pan demanded, brow furrowed.

She winced in anticipation of Red’s reaction to the words. “My handbag got nicked a couple days ago-”

“Xaer-!”

She held up a hand to curtail Red’s outburst. “-and this is the dagger I carried in there for protection. We’ve been having a bit more trouble with dips and such spreading from Ashtown; I didn’t figure it was anything more than that. But now...” She scowled at the blade.

It was possible--but unlikely--the pickpocket who took her bag had dumped everything but the money and this thug found the knife and kept it. That, however, strained credulity for her.

“What else did you lose?” Red asked, leaning against her desk. He was doing a good job not fussing, she could see the strain of worry in his eyes.

“Little money, maybe a few incidentals.” She flashed a wry smile. “My notepad.”

His brows jumped toward his tousled hair. “You lost all your notes?!”

Xaeryn nodded. “I bought a new one, rewrote what I remember, but I know it’s not everything.”

He bit his lip in thought. “When we get back I can collect what I found for you, pass it along again?”

“I can’t ask-”

“You’re not, Ryn, I’m offering,” Red said firmly. He smiled and gave her elbow a light squeeze. “I only have one class tomorrow afternoon, and most of the books should still be close together. It would hardly be any trouble.”

She gave him a searching look, knowing he’d offer even if it was a lot of trouble. He met her look and held it steadily and she caved. “Liefred, you’re a lifesaver.” Again. I’m going to owe you so big. (But she wouldn’t. And she she knew it.)

Pan cleared his throat and they both jumped a little at the reminder he was still there. “On that note, I should probably get Mr. Lifesaver back to our hotel so we can get a good night’s sleep before heading home tomorrow.”

“Oh. Yes.” Xaeryn rubbed the back of her neck. “Wouldn’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.” She hesitated a moment, then, “You are planning to swing by before you leave, right?”

“Of course,” Red spoke up before Pan could, “we have to say proper goodbyes.”

Not to mention they had something to discuss.

“Of course,” Pan echoed, with just a hint of shit-eating grin as he clapped a hand to Red’s shoulder and started steering him toward the door. “G’night, Ryn. Glad you’re alright.”

She chuckled. “Me, too. Good night, Pan, good night, Liefred.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Night, Xaer.”

And then they were gone, and the full exhaustion of adrenaline letdown hit her in a rush. Xaeryn slumped against her desk and ran one hand down her face.  “God, what a night,” she mumbled, then almost laughed when she noticed Red had forgotten his tuxedo jacket, still draped over a chair.

He can get it tomorrow, she rationalized, too tired to chase them down the stairs.

Tonight had been... eventful was underselling it, and she just wanted to sleep. She couldn’t stop a smile as she changed into her pajamas, despite lingering soreness. Xaeryn looked down at her bandaged hand, and a swirl of wall-cracking uncertainty cut through her high spirits.

I almost kissed my best friend, she thought as she tumbled into bed. She known tonight would be a test, but she thought she was stronger than that.

It only made things more confusing that he’d seemed ready to kiss her back.

But it was closing in on midnight, and she had a meeting tomorrow, so Xaeryn pushed those thoughts away so she could sleep.

Or tried to.

----

(TRUST ME, no one is more irritated about Pan interrupting them than Pan. xD He and Neon have been trying to very subtly play matchmakers for over a decade, he very much wants to smack himself right now xD but he’s also gonna tease Red like, a lot. bc what’re friends for?)

Lavinet’s companion is my Rhyler, who’s romancing her whenever I have time to pick him back up again rip

The song playing while they dance is Hold Me by Art Hickman & his orchestra, one of those “cribbed from the MFMM episode credits” songs I’ve been hanging onto xD

I’ve been sitting on that patching-up scene for so long oh my GOD I’m glad it’s out there now

[skiesofthesketchy]

Body Language

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female reader

“I’m going to kiss you now. Don’t freak out.”

Note: This is my first attempt at smut and I don’t think it’s half bad lmao. This is also my first Outer Banks fic, and I can tell you right now there will be MORE in the future :) Please let me know what you think! Enjoy! 

Summary: Your best friend JJ has an unfortunate one night stand, which leads him to asking you what girls like in bed.

Warnings: SMUT, nsfw, 18+

Word count:  4k

Part 1 (you are here) / Part 2

***

You knew something was wrong.

It was just a normal day with the pogues. You had spent the afternoon on John B.’s boat, drinking, smoking, swimming until you all were exhausted from the sun. But you could tell something was wrong with JJ the entire time. 

When you had made a dirty play off of Pope’s words and looked to your best friend for a high five, he was staring off into the horizon. When Kiara’s bikini top came undone and she rushed to fix it while everyone howled in laughter, he wasn’t even paying attention. “What’s up, dude?” you’d ask when you caught him staring at you a handful of times, but he would just shake his head with a dismissive mumble.

You all were back at the Chateau by the time the sun had started to set. You sat on a lawn chair while John B. and Kiara swung in the hammocks, and Pope was sitting on the ground while JJ paced back and forth behind you guys. There was definitely something on his mind. You just wanted to know what could possibly be more important to JJ than spending the day with his best friends. This wasn’t like him at all, and you waited patiently for him to eventually tell you what was going on.

It was only minutes later that John B. told everyone he was leaving to go see Sarah. Pope stood up from the dirt too, saying something about all the chores he had to get done or else his dad was going to kill him. Kiara left with both boys, wanting to catch a ride back home before it got too late. You wondered if your other friends had noticed JJ’s odd behavior, or if it was only noticeable to you. You two did understand each other better than anyone. Once they all left, it was just you and JJ. 

You gathered the empty beer bottles and bags of chips littering the back yard to bring them inside the house, JJ quickly following close behind you. You thought he was going to say something to you, but he kept his mouth shut. 

You shrugged off that thought as you looked around the trashed living room, deciding to clean up a little bit. It may not be your house, but you were there all the time and knew nobody else was going to clean up. As you grabbed a garbage bag to start working, you noticed JJ still standing in the doorway, not sure what to do with himself. You raised your brow at him questioningly, but he just awkwardly scratched the back of his head and sat down on the couch. 

Then he just sat there quietly, watching you as you cleaned, yet another sign that something was wrong. The boy never missed an opportunity to tease you about your “house-wife tendencies,” as he likes to say.  

You dropped the garbage bag you were carrying and made your way to sit next to him on the couch. “Alright, dude,” you sighed. “What’s up?” You were tired of waiting for him to tell you on his own. You only have so much patience with the boy.

“What do you mean?” he countered quickly.

You scoffed. “You’ve been acting weird all day. I know when something’s off with you, J, so just spill it.”

His eyes met yours for a brief moment before he sighed. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” he started, but the silence that fell over the room afterwards made it clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“Okay,” you laughed softly. “Go ahead.”

“I just... I don’t know how to say it.” He was being timid, avoiding your gaze. You furrowed your brows. This wasn’t like the JJ you knew at all. He was never afraid to tell you anything, you guys were so close.

You laid a comforting hand on JJ’s knee, which was bouncing from nerves. “Come on, it’s just me.” 

He took a deep breath, deciding to just get it out in the open. “What do girls like in bed?”

You were dumbfounded. You definitely didn’t expect anything like that to come out of your best friend’s mouth!

Your state of shock had him jumping up to his feet to defend himself. “I know I’m the best in bed, okay. I’m great at sex! I’m a sex god! Every girl leaves my bed satisfied,” he exclaimed, desperately trying to hide his bruised ego and putting on his normal cocky attitude. 

“Obviously not every girl if you’re asking me what girls like.” You couldn’t help but laugh. JJ Maybank: the biggest player in Outer Banks, was asking you for sex advice? This was almost too good to be true.

You bent over, clutching your stomach as you bubbled with laughter. JJ threw a pillow at you, obviously annoyed you were laughing at him. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

You wanted to revel in this moment, but urged yourself to calm down. You knew JJ was distraught about this, so you needed to shut up and be a friend to him, even though all you wanted to do was tease your normally-arrogant friend. “Alright, tell me what happened.”

He stood with his arms crossed in front of you, sure you were going to keep laughing at him. You grabbed his hand and dragged him down into the spot next to you. “I won’t laugh anymore. Promise. What happened?” 

He inhaled a deep breath, working up the courage to just spit it out. “I brought a touron over last night. She said she wanted to, ya know, but she didn’t seem into it like, at all.” 

You listened patiently as he told you about his unfortunate one-night-stand. It didn’t seem like such a big deal, but you could tell it really affected him. He was used to girls falling at his feet, letting them do whatever he wanted with them. He was used raving reviews, and girls always wanting to see him again after they had slept together. It was why JJ was confident and a tad egotistical in the first place, but Poor JJ really let this get to his head.

He looked defeated after he finished the story, and you just wanted to comfort him. “It’s just one girl, J. You’ll probably never even see her again.”

“But I thought I did everything right. I thought I knew what all girls liked, but I guess not.” You smiled sadly at him, not knowing what to say. “So, that’s why I wanted to ask you. I don’t know. You’re a girl. What did I do wrong?” The nerves were coming back again. 

“It’s hard to say, JJ. Every girl is different. You just have to pick up on the signs.”

“What signs are we talking about?”

You laughed. “You know, like body language. How she reacts to everything.” 

“I’m great at body language,” he scoffed. “But you should... uh... elaborate.” You giggled again. You knew he was a dumb boy, but you didn’t think he was this dumb.

“You can tell what a girl wants by the way she kisses you.” 

“You’re telling me things I already knooowwww.” He threw his head back with a dramatic sigh, which made you shake your head in amusement. If he really wanted to know what girls like, you were going to teach him.

You scooted closer to him on the couch and took his hat off, ruffling his hair. He looked at you confused as you grabbed his shoulders and made him face you. “I’m going to kiss you now. Don’t freak out.” 

You waited for the surprise to wash away from his baby blues before you leaned in and kissed him. His lips were softer than you had imagined. You didn’t waste any time wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in even closer. With your head turned to the side, you opened your mouth and he followed suit, tongues now mingling together. You were being hungry and forceful on purpose, sitting up more to press your chest into his. His warm hands made their way to your waist as he kept up with your fast pace. Your fingers weaved into his hair, tugging and pulling softly as you directed his movements.

It was hot as hell. The kiss was needy and messy, as if you two were madly in love and couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were dominating the kiss, and didn’t let him move his hands further up your body, your hands covering his to keep them in place on your hips. 

When you needed air, you pulled away, resuming your previous position on the couch as if nothing had happened. JJ, on the other hand, looked frazzled. His cheeks were tinted red and his expression was one of disbelief. His best friend did just make out with him after all. But it was more than that. The way you kissed him had arousal pumping through his veins, and directly to his dick.

“If a girl kisses you like that, she definitely wants you,” you broke the silence. Well, it was silent besides JJ’s heavy breathing. “She also wants to be the one to call the shots.” 

His eyes met yours and he still couldn’t believe what had happened. You kissed him like that, all to teach him a lesson?  He hadn’t had a make out session this hot in a long time, and you were totally unphased by it. “Make sense?” you asked. All he could do was nod. His mind was spinning and he had a tent forming in his shorts, which you didn’t notice.

“Okay. Let’s try again.” He smirked, already missing the feeling of your lips on his. You leaned in, but let him meet you the rest of the way, and you were kissing again. This time, you kept your hands to yourself, and allowed JJ to pull you in by his hands on your jaw. You resisted the urge to melt into him, and kept up your more timid approach to the kiss. 

It was far less heated than before. This kiss was soft and slow, which confused the boy but he didn’t want to do anything to risk ruining the moment. You pulled away while placing your hand on his chest to separate you two. 

“If she kisses like that,” you started, “then she’s into you. But she wants you to take control. If she’s more shy, you’re gonna have to take it a little slow.” You peered into his eyes and found them gleaming. “You following, Maybank?” 

“Mmhmm.” He sat back, letting his fingers brush over his lips that were just on yours. You really were trying to teach him more about what girls like, and he liked your “hands on” approach. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he knew how glad he was that he asked you for help.

Part of you couldn’t believe you had just kissed him either. It was a strange feeling, kissing your best friend. You’d be lying to yourself though, if you said you had never imagined what it would be like to kiss JJ. You couldn’t tell what was going on in his head. “You good?”

“Better than good.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at you with a smirk. “What’s next, Teacher?” 

You laughed before thinking for a moment. “Consent.”

“Pshh. I know about consent. Who do you think I am? I’m upfront with every girl that I intend to bone.” He was offended that you’d even think of him like that.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure. But things can change. It doesn’t take much to turn a girl off.”

He looked at you like you were being ridiculous. “For example, the touron last night,” you continued. “You asked me for help, remember?”

JJ nodded reluctantly. He was still sure he knew how to please a girl, and when to back off, but you were only trying to help him. He’d kick himself if he stopped this little learning lesson now and risk never kissing you again. “Alright, alright. What about consent?”

You smiled, happy he was going to hear you out. You wished more guys would be willing to understand how girls think when it comes to intimacy. “It’s good to take breaks and ask what she wants. If a girl is feeling uncomfortable with something, she’s more likely to speak up about it if you take the time to ask her.”

“Care to demonstrate?” he asked with a wink. You shook your head and laughed at his flirtiness. 

“Okay, fine.” This time, you placed your hands on his shoulders and hoisted yourself over him to straddle his lap. His hands found the exposed skin of your thighs as he looked up at you, desire dancing in his eyes. “I’ll kiss you again, but it’s your job to make sure I consent to whatever's next.” Another smirk found its way to the blonde’s lips before he pulled you down to him by the back of your neck.

It was almost as heated as the first kiss. With his lips pressed firmly to yours, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. When it quickly turned into a sloppy make out, you let your fingers pull on the blonde strands on the back of his head. You were absolutely enjoying yourself in this position with your best friend, and he felt the same. ‘But this is all for learning purposes,’ you reminded yourself. ‘So that he can be with other girls...’

Pulling away from you was the last thing JJ wanted to do, but he did so anyway, remembering what you had asked him to do. Looking at your messy hair and swollen lips, he wanted to take you right then and there. “Um, do you consent?” he asked in a small voice. This didn’t feel natural at all.

You giggled over him. “Not like that, dude.”

“Then how? It feels so weird to stop everything to ask about it.” He was slightly embarrassed that you were laughing at him, but that was all quickly forgotten as he got lost in your smile. 

“I’ll show you,” you said before leaning in again. You guys were getting very good at kissing each other, and jumped right back into where you left off. With your arms around his neck, you softly grinded into his lap. His breath hitched in his throat, telling you he was surprised by your actions while you were just as surprised to feel his growing bulge press into you. It made you more excited than you cared to admit.

Your hands traveled down his chest and to his sides. Your fingers drifted to the hem of his t-shirt before dipping under the material, your soft hands caressing the skin above his hips. JJ could feel everything you were doing to him with intensity, and he didn’t want it to stop. Your hands moved up his sides a bit further before you pulled away from the kiss only slightly. “Can I take this off?” you whispered.

With glazed eyes, the boy could only nod. You pecked his lips once more before slowly pulling off his shirt. Now, he laid beneath you with his chest fully exposed, and you wanted to drool. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless countless times before, but this was different. He was sculpted to perfection, right under you and only for your gaze.

He could tell you were checking him out, and he loved every second of it. He wanted to know if you were thinking the same thing he was. He wanted you to want him.

“See? It’s that easy. And it doesn’t have to ruin the moment.”

Again, he nodded. “Let me try.” He didn’t give you a second to respond before he abruptly pulled your face back to his. With all this kissing, you were sure you were going to get light headed from lack of air.

Somehow, it only got better. With your tongues dancing together, you felt his hands smoothly run over your thighs, then up to your hips and back down again. It felt like he needed to touch every inch of your body or else he would lose his mind. Then his warm hands boldly lifted up your shirt a little so that he could feel the soft skin of your waist. 

With fingertips rubbing small circles into your ribcage, he pulled away enough to look into your eyes and asked, “Is this okay?” He was doing just as you had told him. He was learning, you thought. You bit your lip subconsciously, drawing his eyes to the small action. You nodded, and he swiftly pulled your shirt over your head. Now you were just in your blue bikini top, sitting on top of a shirtless JJ. He wanted to revel in the sight of you, more exposed only for him, but he instead brought his hands up to your jaw to pull you in yet again. 

You let the front of your body melt into him, becoming impossibly closer to one another. You loved the taste of him and how his hands left a burning sensation wherever he touched you. Your mind became foggy as your thoughts were replaced by desire.

Without breaking the kiss, JJ quickly flipped over to lay you down on the couch, him crouching over you. He slowly put more of his weight on you as the kiss became more intense, even though it felt like it couldn’t possibly get more intense than it already was.

His mouth finally left yours, only to reconnect with your jaw. He left wet kisses down the side of your neck, turning you on even more as his hand gracefully moved up and down your side. As his loving assault reached your collarbone, he stopped and looked up at you, practically wreathing beneath him. “You good, baby?” he asked.

You nodded feverishly, all common sense going out the window. How you went from platonic best friends to this was something you couldn’t fathom right now. With another smirk, he continued to leave open mouth kisses down your collarbone and chest. Your fingers weaved through his hair tightly, which he took as a sign to keep going.

He let his tongue dart out to lick the swell of your breast over your swimsuit before sucking on the tender spot. His hand daringly grabbed your other boob and squeezed softly. To his surprise, a quiet moan escaped from your lips, only urging him to continue. ‘This is the body language she was talking about,’ he thought, feeling like an absolute king for being able to get this sort of response out of you. 

He pulled your top down, your tits now bouncing freely from the material, and his mouth watered at the sight. Without a moment to lose, his lips came down over your right nipple and started sucking while his hand played with your other boob, teasing your taught nipple with the soft pinch of his fingers. More sounds of pleasure fell from your open mouth, and he watched as your eyes squeezed shut. 

“You like that, baby?” he asked breathlessly and between more kisses on your breasts. You shook your head yes, eyes still closed tight. At this point, every cell in your body wanted him. You didn’t care about anything else, just his mouth and his hands touching you everywhere. 

“I need verbal consent, princess.” He smirked against your skin as his lips traveled down your stomach. He felt high off your reaction to him. He wanted nothing more than to please you until you were screaming his name.

A breathy laugh escaped you and your eyes finally opened to see his pretty face smiling over your belly button. He was teasing you, and while you normally didn’t let him get away with that, you needed him to keep going.

“Yes, JJ. I like this.”

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, eyes still boring into yours. “Tell me what you want, babe.” He was still teasing you, and you were getting frustrated. He was following your previous instructions though. 

“I want you to make me feel good,” you said, almost losing your composure. Every kiss, every touch, felt like magic and you needed more.

Within seconds, your shorts and bikini bottoms were discarded onto the floor and his thumb was running between your wet folds. You whimpered at the contact, which had him smiling from ear to ear. “Damn, Y/N. Is this all for me?” he asked, playing with your soaked entrance. You were always the first to make sure his ego didn’t get too big, but in this moment, you didn’t care.

He easily slipped two fingers into you, and you moaned out his name. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out, bringing his mouth to your sensitive clit, all while watching you intently to make sure you were enjoying this as much as he was. He sucked on the bud, his hand picking up a steady pace, and it was already enough to unravel you. Your body was trembling and your hold on his hair only tightened, encouraging him to speed up. 

His tongue lapped at your pussy relentlessly while his fingers curled inside you over and over. He could tell you were close, and was determined to make you reach your high. “JJ,” you moaned loudly. “Don’t stop.” The sounds coming out of you were filthy, and JJ felt like he could cum right then and there as he pleasured you. 

He quickly threw your leg over his shoulder, and the new angle had you shaking. He did as you asked, going harder and faster with his assault on your core. He loved this, loved the taste of you. He felt like he could live between your thighs forever. Your moans turned into desperate whimpers as your hips bucked up to meet his face. It was all getting too much for you, but he didn’t slow down even slightly.

Then, you were cumming. Your body jerked awkwardly as you climaxed, and JJ was still fingering you, still sucking on your clit, riding out your high. The noises you made had the boy struggling to keep his own composure, especially when you were moaning his name. He couldn’t believe this was all for him. That he was the one to make you feel this good.

As you calmed down and caught your breath, the boy between your legs finished cleaning you up with his tongue before kissing up your belly, your boobs, then your lips again. He laid his head in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing your body under the weight of his. You didn’t know what to say. Your best friend just ate you out, and it felt amazing.

“Uh, good job,” you croaked, voice a little sore from moaning. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for that line. “I mean, uh, you did everything right.” 

He smiled against your collarbone, finding your flustered state adorable, if not amusing. “Did I pass the test, Teacher?” he asked, peering up at you.

You laughed breathlessly. “With flying colors.” Then it was silent. You never stopped to think what this could mean for your friendship. What happens next? You didn’t want there to be any awkwardness between you two. 

JJ, on the other hand, felt on top of the world. He was excited about this new side of you. He wondered if this intimacy was something you wanted with him in the future. He felt confident after making you orgasm, so he spoke up. “You’re a good teacher,” he complimented, and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, making you blush. “Got any other lessons for me?”

It was then that you realized JJ’s erection was pressing into your leg. It was so hard that your eyes widened, thinking of how painful it must be for him to still be restrained by his shorts. Even though you just had one of the best orgasms of your life, you felt yourself getting wet again, ready and excited for more. “Maybe one or two,” you hummed shyly. A chuckle left his lips before they were once again on yours. 

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

Masterlist 

[haworthiaace]

I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’. 

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.” 

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before. 

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

-

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness. 

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?” 

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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

The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance. 

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and  a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.” 

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper. 

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing. 

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man. 

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this. 

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

-

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls. 

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.” 

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.” 

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. ���Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.” 

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

-

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t. 

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness. 

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

-

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

[millie-ionaire05]

Soul Sucking

Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Incubus Jimin ☯ Fantasy AU ☯ Human Reader

Summary: A dull night at the club has Jimin frustrated and about to leave to find a more lively one. That is, until you walk in. Every part of him is quivering with excitement at the prospect of sucking you dry, but you’re going to be a tad bit harder than other girls he’s tried to consume. Harder, but so much more fulfilling.

Word Count: 5,806

Rating/Warning: M for Mature (+18), Explicit; pwp (honestly it’s less plot than I want to credit) female reader, exhibitionism? (he fingers you in the uber….I’m not sorry lol), fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (reader receiving), big dick Jimin, unprotected sex (wrap the schlong before you sit on the dong), squirting, creampie, one night stand

Author’s Note: Well...this came out of nowhere. I...I am honestly frazzled after writing this. Do other writers get flustered by their own writing? Or is it just me? Also, thanks to the beautiful Viola (@ladyartemesia) for showing me the tools to make my own banner. It’s nowhere near as amazing as the ones she creates, but I’m still a little proud of it. After the emotional week I’ve had, finally posting this makes me super happy. I hope you guys like it. Stay safe, and healthy, and happy!

P.s. also a huge shoutout to my soul sister (@jin-the-middle) for letting me ugly cry to you about everything that went on. I don’t know where I’d be in life without you. I love you. 

   Jimin can’t help the scowl that claims his lips, his tongue pressing into the top of his mouth in an attempt to prevent the stench of the woman next to him from hitting his senses. Such easy targets they are, eager and willing to sleep with anything on two legs and a dick in between. He was getting tired of all the easy games, his body desperate for a challenge. He can’t even enjoy the thump of the music as the bass reverberates throughout the dance floor, which usually has his skin tingling and his legs twitching to join the throng of people grinding on each other. Not this time though. He has no interest in the people here tonight, and his feet begin to carry him back across the club towards the exit, at least until he feels the shift in the air. 

   Eyes rising, he senses the most intense energy walking through the entrance, body barely covered in a black two piece, and the most sinful high heels. His body is practically thrumming with excitement, that is, until he sees your face. You look pissed, your energy only increasing in levels that he could start physically seeing, the charged red tendrils appearing like flames as they surround you. His eyes widen as you stay close to another female, your eyes cutting sharp glares at the men who gawk at the both of you, a warning to keep distance. 

   Obviously from your hostility, you’d had no intention of coming to the club on a Friday night. Your energy was encapsulated with solidarity, and with a flick of his tongue against his lips, he can tell you rarely left the comforts of your home. He tries to inconspicuously make his way to a standing table that is behind yours, but he feels the shift in your energy at his presence, and he tactfully heads towards the bar instead.

   He waves his hand at the bartender, not missing the way her eyes widen and her body rushes to fulfill his wishes. He knows he shouldn’t, but he sends her a smirk, and he watches the way her cheeks brighten an embarrassing shade of pink. Internally chuckling to himself, he walks away to his intended spot behind your table, close enough to continue observing you without disturbing your heightened energy. 

   His body is quaking in anticipation as he observes you with who is clearly your friend, their body jumping up and down in place while yours remains still, your head resting on your hand on the table. You try to subtly tap your fingers against your cheek to the beat of the music, the only indication that you were enjoying the tunes as your friend yapped. Parting his lips, he allows your energy to drift towards him, your body tensing immediately. 

   Damn you’re perceptive. 

   He shuts his mouth, allowing what little energy he could get from you to roll against his tongue. You are fucking delectable. His mouth waters further as he tries to savor your taste, his cock twitching in his leather pants, begging for more. His mind runs with all possible scenarios that he could use to get closer to you, and he’s ready to make his move….until another man walks up to your table just as your friend walks away towards the dance floor. 

   Tsking at the filthy skeeze that attempts to talk to you, Jimin decides to wait, leaning forward against his table so he can catch what is being said.

   “So, do you come here often?” the man asks, leaning closer to you. 

   Jimin’s lips tighten to a thin line, at first to prevent his annoyance from coming forth, but then to stop the laugh that’s trying to bubble its way out.

   “No,” you answer flatly, not even glancing at the guy as you blatantly shift out of his presence. 

   The guy doesn’t take the hint and just tries to lean closer. “No wonder I don’t recognize you.” 

   Jimin’s eyes curl in amusement as you scoff at the guy, your gaze finally moving. 

   “You look sexy in that. Wanna dance?” the man enthusiastically proposes, his eyes clearly not on your face. 

   “Does that line work on other girls?” You retort back, snapping your fingers in his face. “My face is up here asshole. Go use that lame ass pickup on some other sap in this club, ‘cause I’m not interested.”

   The man’s face morphs into one of anger, and Jimin enjoys the way you tilt your head, as if to taunt the man by silently saying ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

   The guy doesn’t bother wasting more time making advances, just sulks away to a corner of the club, his eyes scoping out someone else to talk to. Jimin has the biggest urge to clap at your performance, but he has a feeling you won’t appreciate knowing he had been listening. Instead, he decides on a new plan, one that has a ninety-seven percent chance of working on you. It was still that three percent chance that has him worried. Well, only slightly.

   Walking around his table with his drink in hand, he casually walks towards you, eyeing the couple to his left. If he times it right, they will bump him in three…two...one. Sure enough the couple in mid-dance bump him, which forces him to collide with your body. He doesn’t miss the way your face curls in anger, and he schools his features to look shocked, his eyes wide. He turns to the couple that is looking at him, apologizing to him for bumping him, and he quickly turns to you and apologizes as well. 

   He watches the way your eyebrows come together in uncertainty, confused on whether you should stay angry, or acquiesce to the accident. He realizes you’ve decided on the latter when your lips set into a thin line. 

   “I truly am sorry,” he repeats, allowing his gaze to lower to the drink in his hands. 

   “It’s fine,” you sigh out, allowing your head to once again rest against your hand. Raising his gaze, he purposefully meets your eyes, and his stomach tingles at the way your lips part. He lets a friendly smile curl his lips, suppressing his deepest urges to throw you on the table and eat you out. 

   “You look like you’re having fun,” Jimin states in a teasing tone, smiling when your eyes go wide with mock surprise. 

   “Oh really?” you exaggerate your emphasis, lifting your head to free your hand and grab for your drink which is still full. “So much fun.”

   He giggles, allowing his eyes to squint at you. Your energy is all over the place, his tongue begging to come out to taste some more, but he forcefully keeps it pressed against the top of his mouth. He shifts his feet to simulate hesitation, his mouth curling down into a frown. 

   “Well...I guess I’ll leave you to it,” he says low enough for you to hear, his eyes picking up your surprise at his demeanor, which is clearly more considerate than any of the other patrons in the club. You just didn’t know it’s for a different reason.

   “It’s just…,” you start, stopping him in his movement of walking away, and he practically has to bite on his tongue to keep the smile from twisting up his lips. “My friend...she wanted to come.”

   Jimin turns to you again, his eyebrows coming together to show his confusion on how that was a logical explanation. His eyes narrow to the pink tinging your cheeks as you take another sip of your drink, your eyes more focused on your friend on the dance floor. He waits patiently for you to continue, not wanting to push too quickly, because he knew you would run. It was all in the way your energy twisted, warning him not to make any sudden movements. 

   “She wanted to make her ex jealous,” you continue, your finger pointing to a man on the edge of the dance floor eyeing your friend. Jimin’s gaze moves to the man before he nods his head slowly. “So, here I am. A good best friend, here to make sure everything goes to plan.”

   “But you don’t want to be here,” Jimin says, more a statement than a question, but you still shake your head. 

   “Nope,” you confirm, sighing heavily. 

   Jimin takes a moment to swipe his tongue against his lips, trying to get another taste of you before deciding how to proceed. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes watch him, and then he’s using his teeth to worry on his bottom lip, morphing his expression to one of care. 

   “So you have to watch her all night?” he asks, his eyebrows coming together in concern. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”

   You chuckle at his statement, a humorless chuckle and something flashes across your eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. “No, as soon as they disappear together I’ll be able to go home.”

   From the way your eyes shift nervously, he can tell you are worried if you’d shared too much information. Changing tactics, he schools his expression to one of innocence, briefly meeting your eyes before looking away.

   “If you want, I can keep you company?”

   Silence follows as your energy wavers, clearly trying to warn you of his actions, but you seem unsure. 

   “Ah, sorry,” he purposely begins to ramble, taking small steps away from you. “It was a dumb idea. I just figured it would help pass the time, and maybe stop anyone else from trying to come up to yo-”

   “Sure,” you say, giving him a small smile as his face morphs to one of shock. He almost shivers at the laugh that escapes your lips. “Don’t look so shocked.”

   He chuckles, watching as you scoot over to give him space to set his still untouched drink down onto the table. He had his ticket in. Now to keep you in his grasp. 

   “So, what brings you here?” you question, looking at him pointedly from above the rim of your glass as you drink.

   He laughs, giddy at the way you blanch before your cheeks are filling with color. He fiddles with his own drink on the table, turning the glass slowly and avoiding your gaze. 

   “I was actually about to leave before bumping into you,” he states, shrugging when you give him a confused look. “I wasn’t having much fun.”

   You nod your head slowly, clearly able to understand him. Your eyes move to your friend on the dance floor, your eyebrows rising at the sight. He turns to look, seeing that your friend had finally convinced her ex to join her, their bodies practically one as they grind against each other. 

   “Looks like your night may be over soon,” he states, giving you a smile as his mind races. Clearly he’d have to up his efforts if he hoped to get you in his grasp tonight. 

   “Thank god,” you laugh, your eyes twinkling at him. 

   He forces his eyes to widen, as if taken aback by your beauty, though he didn’t have to try very hard. Your energy just emphasizes your beauty, and his cock starts to stiffen. To simulate nerves, he accidentally spills his drink on the table, his hands fluttering in worry. 

   “Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” he starts, but is silenced when your hand rises. 

   “No harm, no foul,” you voice, grabbing some napkins from a nearby table. 

   He reaches for the napkins in your hands, mumbling that it was his fault and he would clean it, but he stops moving when your hands meet and he sees you shiver. He knows it's because of the effect he has on you, just like with any other girl, but you’re something different. You’re a harder feat. 

   “Are you okay?” he probes, grabbing hold of the napkins and slipping them from your fingers, giving your body a chance to relax at the loss of contact. 

   “Y-yeah,” you stutter, clearing your throat. 

   The shift in your bearings is discernible, letting him know he could move a bit faster in his advancements. His tongue tingles as he swipes it against his lips, his eyes moving to see your own tongue running along your lips, mimicking his actions. Your cheeks were pink once again, and your energy was swaying towards him, silently gesturing for him to make his move. 

   “I didn’t mean to spill the drink,” he starts, causing you to jump in your spot, but he pretends he didn’t see it. “I was just in awe at how beautiful you are.”

   You snort at his words, a giggle bubbling from your lips as you move the cups out of the way so he can wipe down the table. He smiles, finishing the task quickly before looking at you again. 

   “I’m serious,” he says, licking his lips again. 

   You copy him once again, your eyes trained on his lips before fluttering up to his eyes. You both remain there, staring at each other, gradually closing the space between your bodies. His fingers twitch, and he takes a gamble by brushing a loose strand of hair to behind your ear, his cock twitching at the hitch in your breath. He isn’t sure he can wait much longer. 

   “Hmmm,” you hum, obviously trying to find something to say to diffuse the growing atmosphere between you two. “What’s your name?”

   He’s surprised at the question, intending to give you one of the many false names he throws around, but for some reason that’s not what slips out. 

   “Jimin.” 

   “Jimin,” you repeat, and he almost groans. 

   It sounds so beautifully wicked on your lips, his cock immediately at half mast and begging to be touched. He shifts in his spot, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

   “And what’s your name, beautiful?” he questions, leaning closer so that his parted lips allow your energy to flow towards him. 

   You murmur your name, your body naturally swaying towards him. Suddenly your lips are connecting to his, your energy quivering as he caresses up your arms, his hands stopping at the back of your neck. Your lips are so soft against him, his tongue coming out in silent query, and you comply willingly. A moan so sweet escapes you, your fingers gripping the lapels of his blue jacket, clearly desperate to bring him closer. 

   He would have had no issue taking you there in the club, amongst the crowd of people, but he has so much in mind to do to you. Reluctantly he pulls his lips away from yours, meeting your lust filled eyes. He smirks at your whine, your fingers tightening against his jacket. He moves to kiss along your cheek until he makes it to your ear, allowing his breath to make you shiver in his grasp. 

   “Shall I take you home?” he whispers, his teeth coming out to nibble at the edge of your ear. 

   “Please,” you beg.

   He leans away from you, moving his hands to cup your cheeks, his eyes piercing into yours. You still in his grasp, clearly under his influence and waiting for anything he might ask.

   “Did you drive here?” he asks, smiling when you shake your head. “Call an Uber.”

   You do as he says, reaching for your phone and pulling up the app, typing your address before paying. He keeps his hand on you, maintaining the physical contact to ensure you stay within his influence. When you’re done, you look up at him, eyes wide in search of being praised. He smiles, his hand moving to caress your cheek, and he watches you lean into it. Moving swiftly, he grabs your purse that rests on the table, his free hand grabbing your own and leading you towards the exit. 

   “How much longer beautiful?” 

   You look down at your phone, allowing him to guide you out of the club. “They’re here.”

   He smirks, pushing you both past the crowd of people outside waiting to come in. You point to the car that’s parked across the street, and your bodies hurriedly shuffle towards it. He opens the door, allowing you to get in first, and for a moment he loses contact with your body. When he finally sits inside the car, he notices your dazed look as you watch him, the fog in your mind trying to unravel. He swiftly places his hand on your exposed thigh, the hem of your two piece having risen up and exposing more skin. His eye twitches at the sight. 

   “Buckled up?” the driver questions, breaking him out of his yearning. 

   He turns towards the woman in the driver's seat, silently thanking anyone above that the driver is female. His tongue snakes out to lick his lips, and instantly senses the weak energy of the driver, clearly exhausted from a long day. Smirking at how easy it would be, he moves his free hand until it makes contact with the woman, the woman’s eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror. 

   “Don’t worry about our seatbelts, love. Just make sure you drive us safely, and be sure not to look back here.”

   He waits for her to nod her head, her fingers moving to the gear shift and putting it in drive. Content with the situation, he shifts his attention back to you, his fingers squeezing your thigh. He allows a bit of the haze to leave you, just so that he can get you to comprehend what will be happening. 

   “Alright, beautiful, come here,” he motions to his lap, adjusting himself so that he’s sitting in the middle seat. 

   You obey him, moving to sit in his lap and face him, but he quickly adjusts you so that you’re facing the windshield. His hands cup behind your knees, spreading you until your legs rest just outside of his. He purposefully leans further into the seat, spreading his legs which, inevitably, spreads yours. His fingers slide across your exposed thigh before coming to the edge of your hem, his hands gripping the fabric and shoving up. A gasp escapes your mouth, your eyes moving to the driver to see if they’re watching. 

   “Don’t worry about her, beautiful,” he soothes, his fingers moving to the apex between your legs. “She won’t be watching...unless you want her to?”

   As he finishes his question, his fingers skim against your panty covered clit, causing you to shiver. Your thighs tense and your hands turn to fists, clearly unsure of what to do with them. He moves to your hands, guiding them until each is resting against the headrest of the driver’s seat and passenger seat, and he watches as your knuckles turn white. Chuckling to himself, he continues on his journey to between your thighs, his nostrils flaring as your scent begins to overwhelm him. 

   “Do you like that idea?” he coos, playing with you from the outside of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely making contact. “Do you want her to watch as I make you come?”

   Your body trembles above him as he pulls your panties to the side, his fingers going straight to your soaked core. 

   “Answer me beautiful,” he commands, kissing on the exposed flesh of your arm as he shifts himself, allowing his face to peer from the side of your body. 

   “N-no.”

   “No?” he muses, the tips of his fingers swirling in your wetness. “Your body is telling me otherwise, baby. Are you sure you don’t want her to watch?”

   He hears your answer catch in the back of your throat, his middle finger having entered your tight hole and expertly curving to hit that spot. It’s moments like this that remind him how much he loves being an incubus, loves the feel of a woman under his touch, and the way your energy begs to be sucked out by him. You’ve clearly been abstinent for quite a while, because you are probably the tightest pussy he’s had in so long. The thought makes him pause. 

   “Baby, how long has it been since someone has pleased you like this?” 

   He pauses in his motions to allow your mind to focus. 

   “A-about 3 years,” you whimper out, trying your hardest to move so that his finger can continue its dance on your g-spot. 

   “Aw, you poor baby,” he purrs, giving you what you want by curling his finger, stroking you. 

   Your moans swiftly fill the car, the smell of you wafting in his nose as your energy slithers between his lips, his taste buds tingling as saliva fills his mouth. You’re beautiful. Every noise that leaves your lips, the way your wetness drips past his fingers and coats his hand, it’s perfection. You have so much sexual energy that for a moment he almost feels overwhelmed, wanting to do everything under the sun to you, but not wanting to rush in the chase. 

   Sticking in a second finger, his cock hardens further at the way your body goes taut, clearly at the edge of an orgasm. He adjusts you in his lap, purposely rubbing your ass against his hardened member, and giving himself better leverage to shove his fingers further inside of you. He feels the uncomfortable shift of his rings as he forces his fingers knuckle deep in you, but he ignores it as he speeds up in his efforts to bring you to a climax. 

   Your back arches away from him, your head thrown back as your muscles tighten, and his mouth instinctively drops open. His head is filled with the heady energy of your potent orgasm, and his patience begins its drop. You taste...heavenly. Your energy quivers in his mouth as he continues fingering you, his senses becoming overwhelmed when his palm rubs against your clit, your cry ringing in his ears. He can feel your walls pulsate on his fingers before remaining tightened as he pushes you towards overstimulation, your hands moving to his arm and squeezing. Even he couldn’t tell if you were silently begging him to stop or continue, and unfiltered curses spring from your mouth when he begins to vigorously roughen his strokes. 

   “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans out, enjoying the squelch of your juices when he adds a third finger. 

   His name falls from your lips as your nails dig into his skin, causing him to groan again. His cock begs to be freed from the confines of his pants, begs to have your lips wrapped around it as he fucks your mouth before fucking your tight hole. At the rate this is going though, he isn’t sure he’ll last long if he lets his cock anywhere near your mouth.

   He relishes in the way your body shakes above his, your thighs trembling as you unsuccessfully try to bring them closer together. He purposely spreads his legs even further, your body trying to fight him, but ultimately you give up, your body curling forward as your forehead rests against the driver’s seat. Jimin shifts his eyes to look out the window, noticing the car is slowing as they approach an apartment complex. 

   “Just come for me one more time, baby,” he coaxes. “Just one more time on my fingers.”

   Adjusting his hand, he removes his palm from your clit and replaces the pressure with the fingers of his free hand, his fingers practically pinching you in a mix of pain and pleasure that he knows will bring you to another intense orgasm. Sure enough, your back bows away from him once again, your walls clenching tighter against his fingers as you orgasm. He ignores the way your walls attempt to still his fingers, helping you ride the second orgasm before he slowly removes his hand. Your body unsteadily heaves air into your lungs, and he brings his soaked hand to his mouth as his free hand strokes the inside of your thigh. 

   A moan rips from his throat the moment your juices touch his tongue, his body thrumming as he tastes you on his fingers and his cock jumps in his pants. 

   “Fuck,” he growls, his free hand stilling to squeeze your thigh as he sucks all of your juices off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good.”

   The car stops in front of your apartment complex, the woman in the driver’s seat remaining compliant in keeping her eyes forward, and Jimin helps you fix your clothes. He allows you to slip out of the car first, unworried about you losing the fogginess he’d instilled in your energy. His eyes fall to the pool of wetness on the floor of the backseat, and he can’t help but feel partial pride and guilt. Pulling a hundred dollar bill from the inside of his coat, he leans forward and strokes the arm of the driver. 

   “Thank you, love,” he murmurs, a smirk curling his lips when she jumps. “Here’s for the trouble.”

   Uninterested in waiting for the driver’s response, he slips out of the car and closes the door, eagerly grabbing your hand. 

   “Lead the way, beautiful.”

   Your feet earnestly speed walk to the elevator, your body practically thrumming with impatience as you guide him to your apartment, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you finally open your door. He can’t help but chuckle at your actions, your energy ablaze around you, begging him for more. Oh, but he is so ready to give you more. That’s all he wants to do for the rest of the night, and his lips tingle at the prospect of draining you dry. 

   You lead him through the small hallway that opens to the kitchen and living room, and he has to stop you there. He can’t wait anymore, not after getting that teasing taste of you in the uber. His body becomes flush against yours before his hands grab the back of your thighs, skin like velvet as he lifts you onto the kitchen counter, his eyes noticing the shiver that racks your body. 

   Unwilling to waste anymore time, he spreads your thighs, his mouth dropping straight to your panty covered core with a groan. Like fire against his lips, he feels the energy slide past his tongue and down his throat, his body becoming alight with your pleasure. Desperate for more, he immediately pushes your thong aside and connects with your clit.

   Such sweet ecstasy. Like a delicious four course meal, filling him in ways he hadn’t realized he was desperate for. His desperation grows as he feels your fingers slide between his blonde strands, grasping hold of his locks in an attempt to try and bring him closer. At this point, he’s willing to give you whatever you want. If you want the world, he’s willing to serve it to you in any way he can. But his cock weeps for sweet release, and he struggles to remain on track with pleasuring you all night before he gets his fill of you. The more he builds you up, the more he can take from you by the end of the night, but your energy seems almost too full already. It’s quite distracting for him. 

   Leaning away from your core, he alternates between nipping and kissing the soft flesh of your thighs as he pants, frantically trying to keep his thoughts together. His soul sucking instinct rears up in him, annoyed that he was even wanting to think instead of just taking what you are clearly so willing to give. Unable to stop, his hand moves to grip himself through his pants, squeezing in hopes of relieving some pressure. It doesn’t help. 

   “Mmm, baby,” he murmurs, nipping at your flesh a bit harshly as his hunger grows. “I need to feel you come on my tongue. Can you do that for me? Can you come in my mouth?”

   His eyes cast up to see your eager nod, and an aching groan rips from his throat. Practically delirious with the longing to build you up to a breaking point, his mouth connects with your clit once again. You keen above him, spurring him on as his tongue flicks unnaturally quick against your overly sensitive nub, your thighs quivering on each side of his face. He hastily shifts in his spot before shoving two fingers inside of you again, knowingly curling his fingers as if he’s known your body his whole life. 

   His name falls from your lips in rapid tandem with the strokes to your g-spot, and he reflexively thrusts into the air. He isn’t going to make it the whole night, and as soon as this orgasm hits you, he needs your tight hole on his cock. The mere thought has his lips latching onto your clit, suckling you as his strokes inside your wet heat turn harsh, your slick juices echoing in his ears. The thrum of his pulse adds to the perfect orchestra as you begin to fall apart on him. Your hands grip his hair as you greedily ride your high against his mouth, his tongue slurping as much as he can before you begin to whimper.

   Pulling away from you, he lifts your body off the counter and throws you over his shoulder, his hand connecting with the exposed flesh of your ass. He doesn’t even bother wiping his face as he makes his way to the only closed door connecting to the living room, his nostrils flaring when he walks into your room and immediately catches sight of the vibrator on your nightstand. No wonder your energy was so potent, you had been sexually frustrated for so long, clearly unable to feel properly satisfied with just the vibrator. 

   Throwing you onto your bed, the squeak that falls from your lips and the wide eyed look you give him does nothing to calm his futile attempts at remaining composed. He leans forward and removes your two-piece, a growl of an instruction leaving his mouth for you to continue getting naked as he peels off his own clothes. His fingers tremble when his cock springs from the confines of his pants, the weeping head tapping against his abdomen before standing straight at attention, greedy for pleasure. He doesn’t miss the way your mouth turns to an ‘o’ before you lick your lips, your eyes hypnotizingly ogling him, and his cock twitches in response. 

   Your hands unconsciously rise towards him, but he grasps them both in one of his own, climbing onto the bed to forcibly lay you on your back. Your legs instinctively comply in spreading for him to sit himself comfortably between them, your wetness dripping onto your sheets and he can’t look away. He allows his head to tap your clit, wondering if he can make you come from just the action. The idea turns even more appealing when your thighs squeeze his waist, clearly surprised at the sensation. 

   Gritting his teeth, Jimin uses his free hand to grab hold of his dick, swirling his head in your wetness before tapping it on your clit. 

   “Fuck!” you cry out, back bowing off the bed. “Oh god, please.”

   He forces himself to chuckle, but ignores your indirect request in favor of tapping the head of his cock against your puckered nub. The grip of your thighs tightens against him as he continues slapping himself on you, his eyes unwilling to stray from the sight as your juices begin to pour from your hole, your moans becoming more rowdy as tears begin to stream from your eyes. 

   Your energy is so high it practically wraps around his cock, making him wince, but he doesn’t stop. Unsurprised when you suddenly become quiet, he chokes out curses when you squirt, your juices soaking his bottom half as he persistently slaps himself against you. You try with all your might to remove your hands from his grip, but he keeps them locked in place as you cry out your release, chest heaving as you try and catch your breath. 

   “So fucking beautiful, baby,” he gruffly praises, moving so that his dick is in direct line with your pussy. “So fucking perfect. You come so well.”

   He’s sure your walls are clenched tighter than when he’d had his fingers inside of you, because it takes him a solid five minutes to fully sheath himself, your insides trying to push him out as you continue to squirt. He remains still as you continuously leak onto the sheets, unwilling to part from you until he’s sure he has all of you. He watches as your energies swirl, the red tendrils finally able to connect with his blue ones and a whirl of purple flashes behind his eyes. 

   All of your pleasure rushes through him, his cock swelling even further in you, and a whimpered gasp leaves your lips. Uncaring and far from his right mind, he begins a relentless pace inside of you, his eyes fluttering as he watches himself incessantly disappear into your tightness. His thighs tense and he releases your hands, his own moving to the back of your knees before he purposely brings your knees to your chest, the new angle allowing him to hit your spot. The moment he makes contact with it his head rolls back, the shared pleasure he’s experiencing as your energies connect just helps him expertly adjust himself, always knowing the best way to fill you. 

   “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.”

   Somewhere in his mind he hears you chanting his name, like a prayer in a bible, and it stokes him further. The kindling fire deep within him is now raging, swallowing him whole as he meets your eyes, the galaxy somehow within them. Your pussy is devouring him and he feels it both on his cock and in your energy that you’re about to orgasm again, and he forcefully throws himself forward, connecting his open mouth with yours in an attempt to suck as much of you as he can. 

   The edge is right at the tip of his cock as he gives one last thrust, your energy expending from your body and into his as he spills into your walls. He remains hard within you as he continues sucking all of you into him, the purple galaxy now behind his eyes becoming almost painful as his empty soul fills. He unconsciously thrusts within you, realizing that he’s still painting your walls white. 

   “So perfect. Fucking perfect for me,” he growls out into your jaw, nipping occasionally. 

   He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally has his fill, his cock softening as he pulls himself out of you, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes widen painfully when he sees your body still surrounded by red energy, albeit it wasn’t as much as before. 

   “Fuck,” he groans, his cock stiffening once again at the sight. 

   So. Fucking. Perfect.

[a3hihi]

acts of service

one shot

omi fushimi/reader

word count: 1559

reposted on AO3!

Summary: Omi has this whole dinner planned: he’s got the food, the DVD, the timing. Then he starts feeling too warm.Omi gets a fever and you attempt to take care of him!

As you open your door, Omi looks like he’s about to fall over. He wears a simple jacket and pants, arms full of ingredients and legs swaying a bit. He’s a tad paler than usual, but you can’t tell for sure. Just after he knocked on your door, you had finished cramming a week’s worth of projects, quickly shuffling papers away and keeping your pencils before meeting him. You assume he’d been practicing for his play as well, all the while juggling work and school. “Hey.” He gives you a weak smile. “Hi. You okay?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him. Given the circumstances, that was more to stop him from wobbling than to hug him. “I’m fine.” He kisses the top of your head. That leads you to squawk in surprise, to his amusement.  Still hugging, the both of you continue a weird waddle into your dorm. He’s cold, fresh from walking through the grocery store. “I got the eggs.” He moves an arm to brightly present an egg carton. “Give me a few minutes and we’ll have an omelette ready.”

You nod, but you see his arm waver from carrying a simple carton. “Ah, I can carry it.” You reach up and take it to the kitchen, Omi following behind you. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to have a hard time. Besides, I’m the cook tonight.” Ever since Omi started coming over, the kitchen’s been stocked with ingredients for him. You were used to instant noodles and takeout, but after a long conversation, you agreed to let him teach you how to cook more decent meals. 

Omi walks over to the hooks on your wall, grabbing an apron with his name on it. He chuckles as you tie it behind his back. You’d have to ask him how to sew patches into it sometime. He quickly approaches your counter, takes a bowl, and cracks the egg yolks into it. You wait for him to continue, but he seems to be standing motionless. You peer up at him and you see his eyes flutter. “Is something wrong?”

Omi blinks back into reality. “Sorry. I just need to focus more.” He grabs a fork, but you catch his wrist before he starts whisking, earning you an “ah” from him. “Wait a second, please,” brushing the back of your hand on his forehead. “Your forehead’s hot.” “That it is,” he says, not moving from his spot in the kitchen. “So,” you continue, gently placing the fork down, “you should rest.” “I could whip this up real quick. I don’t want to waste any food, you know?” “Omi, I’m very sure you have a fever right now. Please stop?” You see him loosen up as he nods. There’s a weird feeling of guilt on him while he takes the apron off. “I hope this doesn't get me in the hospital,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head. “Too expensive.” “Hey now, no one said anything about the hospital.” You touch his arm. Knowing him, he’d only want to see a doctor if it was absolutely necessary. Had you gotten at least a scrape, though, he’d rush you to the clinic right away. That was one of the things you’d learned early about Omi, and you were willing to go through that as much as possible. You cup his cheek. “And even if you needed to go, I’d come with you.” He sighs, finally resigning from the food. “If you say so.”

After you lead him to your bed, which wasn’t too far away given the size of your dorm, you rush to the bathroom for a towel. Wringing a wet towel between your hands, you run back to find Omi sitting at your bed’s corner, tapping his leg on the floor. You take a seat to him. “Um. Scooch over, will you?” “Oh, of course.” He moves closer to the edge of the bed, patting the middle so you could reach the pillows. You pat the middle as well, but he doesn’t budge aside from laying his legs on the mattress, sitting up straight like a Lego. “Omi, you’re supposed to be the one resting today.” He grimaces at that. “No, no, I’m fine just staying here.” He picks at his nails. “I should at least make you a snack,” he says, getting up before you lightly push him back down.

Had you known Omi for a short time, you wouldn’t expect him to pout, especially when you consider his first impression for most people. But his expression at the moment was unbelievably close to sulking. “Please, you’ve been waiting for so long.” He takes your hand. “How was your day?" “Well, my thesis-- Hey, don’t try and change the topic! You need to stay here and relax!” “I didn’t mean to change the topic.” He frowns. You sigh. “You’re sick, Omi.” You get up and head to the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea and you can’t stop me,” you call out. “Stay put for me?” You take his silence as permission and get to work.

"Also, can we deliver something for dinner?" You hear a long sigh before him saying "Yep!"

You fish out the calming tea-- chamomile, you remember him mentioning-- and briskly mix it in a mug he’d bought for you. Man, you really should practice this when he’s not around. It’d be embarrassing to screw this up while he’s sick. You walk back to your room and hand him the tea. It’s warm in his hands, and you see his cheeks flush as he takes a sip.

His eyes widen and you panic. “Did I screw it up--” “You didn’t make tea for yourself?” You must look pretty frazzled with the way he’s holding your arm, like he’s trying to calm you down. That wasn’t the goal right now, and it was shaking you up further. "I just really wanted to help you, I guess. I’m sorry.”

He laughs quietly. “You don’t have to apologize.” He holds your wrist softly, and you wonder what happened to his attitude a moment ago. “We can share it.” He shows you the cup, half full, before saying “No, nevermind, it’s probably not a good idea.” You both sit in silence before you snort and take the cup, setting it on the desk by your bed. You take a blanket and pat it onto his lap.

“How’d you even get sick in the first place?” you say, trying not to sound nagging. You doubt that he’d think that, though. Omi adjusts the blanket on him. “Erm,” he says wisely, “I haven’t been getting the most sleep lately.” “And how much is that?”

Omi pretends to look around the room. He purses his lips. “Mmmmmm four a night.” “Hours?” you ask. He gives you a wry smile. “Omi??”

He raises his arms like he’s under arrest. “Does it help if I was awake for school?” “No?” “Also, I was meal prepping for the theater?” “No!” He shrugs in defeat. “I promise I won’t be sick for long. I can cook dinner in a while like always, no sweat.” “It’s not about the cooking,” you grumble. “You’ll get worse for wear at a pace like this. You need to take better care of yourself, Omi.” You make a point by poking his chest. He plays along and plops his back down on the mattress. 

“Why do you keep me around?” He chuckles, rolling his eyes. You frown and lightly punch his arm. “Please don’t make jokes like that.” He snickers. “Alright, alright.” There’s a hint of gratitude to his words. Omi closes his eyes and finally lays his head down on the pillows. It’s relieving, seeing him this relaxed for once. You try storing this image in your head (for safekeeping) as you dab a fresh towel on his forehead.

“Thank you,” he breathes. Your cheeks warm. “You take care of everyone around here. It’s the least I can do.” As Omi opens his eyes to look at you, he smiles fully, and it scrunches up his cheeks. He takes your hand. “It means a lot.” While you don’t think he intends this, you now want to implode.

Omi gives your hand a gentle tug. “C’mere.” Welp, it was a good thing you both finished your assignments.

You move to the side and try to wriggle your way up to Omi’s eye level. You two joked about his height before, but you didn’t expect to take so long in moving up the mattress to meet him. It’s soft. Laying there, he smiles again, and his eyes resemble honey in the light. You’re starting to feel a bit woozy. It’s warm under the covers, especially with his fever, but not too stuffy. He wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. "This okay?” “Of course it’s okay, it’s you,” you murmur, letting your foreheads meet. Omi chuckles weakly, like it’s too good to be true, and you move his head to lay on your chest.

The blanket’s light and thin as you pull it over you both. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper. “I know.” “I’m staying.” You play with his hair, and it’s soft. You’re about to drift to sleep, and he’s on the same page. Here, nursing an awful headache, Omi feels safe. “I’m happy.”

[elle-imagines]

Kakashi, madara, and Itachi with pregnant s/o, please???

Itachi Uchiha

Itachi is the type of man to be too watchful of you, give you your space, then be back over your shoulder. During your pregnancy, he is very observant of the fluctuation of your chakra levels, the growing tightness of your clothes, and the patterns of times when you get up from the bed because of nausea. He is wordless, trying not to show his concern and trepidation regarding your pregnancy. He will purchase new clothes you find in the closet, or use your chakra activity to predict when you wake up in order to make breakfast. 

You will find him reading a variety of books on pregnancy and children: dieting, children’s tales, medicine scrolls, midwife manuals even. Itachi believes the best way to be prepared is through knowledge. He knows which tea can aid digestion and which to avoid altogether. Itachi knows to rush you to the nearest restroom when at 3:00pm. You can count on him to make meals that will be packed with nutrients, knowing you hold so little down. He knows when you are dizzy or need to rest, he knows when you need to go for a walk and stretch.

I would not be surprised if Itachi took up gardening and subsistence farming to ensure the food you are given is healthiest. A chicken, a collection of leafy greens, rich tomatoes, ginger root, and medicinal herbs. Very ambitious, though it’s unsurprising since it’s Itachi.

A great listener and observer of your needs and wants. Even if you say something offhandedly, he will dutifully research it and come back to you with help. Every word you speak he handles with care and a close ear.

You grow to enjoy the smell of your favorite tea in the evenings and the sound of the shoji door facing the garden opening. It’s a silent invitation from Itachi, a desire for your company.

Will compliment you out of nowhere. The new robe he bought you or how you decided to style your hair. Even during labor or moments when you feel your worse, he finds the beauty in your tenacity and gentle strength when carrying his child. Itachi loved his family dearly, and feels grateful at the chance to start a new one and have a life he would not have dreamt he could achieve.

Madara Uchiha

He feels so much pride when he looks at you and sees your stomach growing. You will find him just looking at you with an intense expression that can only be characterized as smugness, adoration, and excitement. Madara won’t hesitate to accompany you to the market or for walks through town, taking it as an opportunity to ensure people know you are protected and revered.

He will cradle your stomach even in the earliest stages of the pregnancy, and will become more affectionate than normal. His stares will grow longer, his hugs a tad tighter, and his hesitation before leaving to work keeps getting worse.

Probably woud recommend a name that means “decimation”, “honorable”, or “fire”. Are we going to act surprised by this?

If you become more irritable, he is very understanding and probably likes it (this guy lol). He enjoys when you stand up to him or tell him to give you some room, so don’t hesitate to do so. He expects you to voice your needs to him and speak to him on an equal ground.

Taking care of you takes care of him. Madara understands the necessity of being healthy in body and mind, and he knows that he won’t be at his best if you are not well. He regularly checks on you, using his chakra to reach the baby’s own energy, to give you warmth against your aching back. Surprise pop-ups at home and a not-too-happy when you are later in your term and out by yourself. Madara does want you to be independent, but he worries that he won’t get to you if you need him.

He is very adept at putting together healthy and hearty meals for the both of you, and will do so without you asking.

Also very adept at guiding you into stretching or massages, being a shinobi. He will indulge you, wanting you to keep your strength. However, he will definitely just pick you up when you’re growing tired and carry you whereever you need to be, even if it’s just to the bathroom.

Definitely the type of soon-to-be father to work you into the conversation, even if it’s not the topic:

“Well, my wife’s pregnancy could be comparable to that.”

“An increase in vegetable imports will also benefit the wellness of Konoha...including my Y/N’s pregnancy.”

“I have two quite important people to attend to. Excuse me.”

“As you will never know the joys of having someone like my partner. Whom I impregnated.”

Kakashi Hatake

One of the greatest changes of your pregnancy is that Kakashi shows. Every time. On time. Yes, I know. He is there when you need him as quickly as he can get to you, even if it’s because your feet have grown too swollen to walk on or you need company to your midwife appointment. He wants to show that you are prioritized, you come first before anything.

Definitely a bit frazzled and baffled by newfounding parenthood, even if he hides it well. There will be times when you have to explain you simply can’t hold it, you have to go to the restroom now! Your body is changing into something unfamiliar to you and beyond your control, so relaying this to him will help him understand the gravity of pregnancy.

Not much of a cleaner, he at least tries to clean pet dander and wash everything more than normal since your nose became more sensitive. He is very good at keeping your necessities in stock as well, no matter how eccentric your taste buds have evolved into. Your favorite pillow, food combination, and medicinal tea remains at your home.

You live for when you see his eyes crinkle when you invite him to feel the child moving. There are rare moments when Kakashi shows pure happiness on his face.

I wouldn’t put it past him to have a bell tied in almost every room so that you could call him.

He’s very easygoing, doesn’t have fragile masculinity, and is patient about your needs. He will help you put your shoes on every morning and help you up from your chair. He gets you to laugh unexpectedly at his wry remarks or the ridiculous baby clothes he suggests to buy (can you believe he wanted their first outfit to be a puppy costume?). There is nothing off the table he won’t help you with, even what will make people feel queasy. He is there for you.

You both spend time thinking of baby names, and of course he recommends something you’d give a pet rock or plant. 

Kakashi doesn’t shy away from talking about the future you both share, and wants you to know he will be there for you and the child you both share.

[bruh-haikyuu]

A/N: Timeskip Lev make me go BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF AAARF ARF. P.S: For double the experience, read while listening to this

diapason. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev meets you again and you develop some sort of warm reconnection with your past underclassman. (Continuation of this fic)

word count: 4402

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) a full, rich outpouring of melodious sound

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

The Danube Canal in mid-winter reminds you of a lot of things:

The Shakujii River flanked with its timeless parade of cherry blossom trees. Christmas celebrations spent at home with your family, popping bottles of soda and whining about misshapen gifts. Your piano recitals played in utter devotion, like the winter would never end.

You’re a long, long way away from home, and you start to hope if anyone is missing you. If there’s a hole in your figure carved into someone’s heart back in Japan or some place in the other side of the world—

What am I thinking... you sigh, bashfully urging yourself to keep on walking.

Nestling deeper into the warmth of your wool scarf, you wonder if it’s the cold ambience of the night that’s making you feel all sappy. Twinkling lights, murmured chatter from late-night caf��s, the occasional gust of wind against your cheeks. You never thought you’d get so nostalgic on your “vacation”, but perhaps you’re just like any other hopeless romantic.

“Come to Vienna! A whirlwind of budding love!”

You’d read that advertisement in one of the catalogues your symphony’s personnel manager had excitedly dumped into your lap the day she announced your personal invitation to spectate the Vienna Philharmonic live a few weeks ago. You didn’t think much of the slogan, but even so... you have to admit you’re a tad bit lonely, aren’t you?

You can barely remember a moment where you didn’t feel lonely. You had your family at home, but you’d considered it your fault for being such a shut-in for the most part of your life. The neighborhood kids weren’t exactly the nicest people. And school life hadn’t been much of an improvement either.

Of course, until him.

A colossal first year stumbling into the desolate Orchestra Club room, with a mouth just as big as his stature. Haiba Lev who had been anxiously lost that day you’d met. With such little sense of direction, you can’t help but laugh at how much times he’d managed to find you in that maze of your high school.

He’d find you, talk to you, laugh with you. And you’d never felt all the rushing feelings you’d felt when you were with this dewy-eyed boy. He was the perfect image of confidence—radiant, ambitious and all the more charming.

If only you can thank him. Your hero of sorts. Haiba Lev who poured into you all the faith he had so you could move forward—

“A-ah, excuse me?”

Whipping your head into the direction of the choppy English, a seething blush rises onto your cheeks when you zero in to the large camera lens pointed right at you.

The bearded man speaks again. “Eh... you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Sorry, but we’re having a photoshoot right now, and you’re in the way of our model. Could you maybe...”

Oh dear, you frazzle. Prostrating yourself incessantly at the camera crew, you blunder. “I’m v-very sorry! Waah, I must’ve ruined your picture!”

“It’s fine,” the man smiles kindly. “Things like this often happen anyway. Ain’t that right, Hafu-sama?”

The lean figure behind you laughs, and for a second, you feel your chest flutter in your throat when you hear him. “Yep! Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

You really wish you hadn’t turned around because the moment your eyes locked with a pair of emeralds, you swear that your heart leapt out of your chest. All feeling of chilliness lamented, you feel red heat stretching out across your skin.

“H-Haiba-kun?!”

Unable to keep your footing steady, a stagnant lump rises in your throat when the familiar man grins at you with galaxies in his eyes.

“Fairy-senpai!!”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. October 2012.

“Senpai!”

Footsteps echoing down the corridor, a wave of frightened third years part to let the gigantic creature of a first year through. Haiba Lev, age 16, is excited. Haiba Lev, 194.3 centimeters tall, is burning with so much resolve that he pays no heed to the Discipline Committee member who is resentfully yelling at him to “stop running in the hallways, you hoodlum!”

But who could blame him?

When you turn around and jolt in surprise, Lev drowns in the tiny fairies that flutter in his chest.

“Haiba-kun? What are you doing here?” you take a moment to register his full presence—considering his substantial size, Lev would probably understand your current disposition.

Finally, you whisper in a low tone, highly aware of the crowd that’s pivoting towards your conversation. “... Did you get lost again?”

“Of course not!” Lev replies rather gruffly. “I wanted to look for you to give you this so I can thank you for when I got lost.”

Thrusting a daintily wrapped bento towards you, the tall boy is rather unabashed about the entire situation—lace cloth and all. There’s a fragrant steam seeping out from the gaps of the box, spooling and wafting (and you think your ears pick up the noise of someone’s rumbling stomach).

You’d thought of spending your lunch alone in your club room, or maybe even the rooftop if you were up for it... like the usual. But the moment Lev starts talking again, you completely forget the idea as a whole.

Innocently grinning, he asks, “Do you want to eat lunch together, L/N-senpai?”

How could you say no?

And thus, here you are in the courtyard with a titan first-year who is nearly twice your size, jovially chattering about as you quietly eat your lunch.

When was the last time you ate something so cute? Your parents stopped making you character bentos since you got into middle school (“Aah... sorry, Y/N. Dad’s hands aren’t as artistic as they used to be,” your father had told you that day, an utter look of guilt dancing across his face). You weren’t too confident in your own skills either, so bentos with endearing faces and shaped cut-outs of vegetables were simply a fragmented piece of the past.

First-years today are so talented, you think, shoveling down your meal in sheer politeness. “This is delicious, Haiba-kun! The chicken is so tender and the rice is so well-seasoned! I wish I had your sense for cooking...”

“My sister made it, actually. I tried to help her cut the eggs, but it ended up being a mess and she told me to just sit and wait in the dining room,” he replies sheepishly, a bubble of laughter slipping from between his lips. “I’m glad you like it though, Senpai! Just wait ‘til my sister hears about your reaction!”

“Does your sister always make your lunches for you?” you ask, curiosity subduing your reserve.

Lev takes a moment to swallow the lump of rice in his mouth.

“Mm, sometimes. If she’s not having a lecture in the morning, she’ll make breakfast. Otherwise, the teriyaki set at the cafeteria is just as good!”

Cafeteria. You shiver. That hellhole of shoving and scrambling and incessant talking... You’re thankful the school had decided to set up a few more vending machines close to campus when you entered your second year.

And then you think of Lev. With that extreme height and intimidating presence, he wouldn’t have to put his foot on the line every time he wanted melon bread, right? And he is definitely the type of person to be able to talk to the loud cafeteria lady without dropping his change.

Confidence. Recklessness. Bliss. All the prime features you wanted, right in front of you—and yet...

“Hey, L/N-senpai?” you snap awake from your thoughts. A dash of concern flashes over your underclassman’s features before he repeats his muted question. “Can I have one of your sausages?”

Peering down at the cluster of uneaten octopus sausages, you quickly nod, face reddening once you realize how close Lev is breathing near you. “G-Go ahead.”

Chirping out a “thank you for the food!”, the silver-haired boy swoops down on a miniature octopus, a sound of immense satisfaction humming in his chest. He’s like a child, you laugh to yourself. A young boy with no sense of care of the world, no concern of what’s going to happen to him unless he really does it.

Leaning back on the bench, you sigh, a smile dawning on your face. “You didn’t have to force yourself to eat lunch with me, you know. I usually eat by myself anyway.”

You’re being apologetic again. You want to punch yourself for even thinking of it. But your habit precedes your intentions, and you can already feel the mood turn sour—

“Why not though?”

Looking up at him incredulously, you can barely string together a coherent response before Lev pipes up again.

“Isn’t food always best when eaten together?”

How pretentious.

There are already valleys of flowers blooming in your stomach at his innocent reply. The same kind that sprouted the day he’d burst into your private practice room. You really hoped you wouldn’t get ahead of yourself anymore. Not with the risks that it carried. But this guileless first year was a much more difficult case than you’d imagined, and thus the flowers go into full blossom.

You smile, the faint blush on Lev’s cheeks going unnoticed. “Yeah. We should eat together more often.”

And so you did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. The passage of time a trivial shadow beneath your budding happiness.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

“You work in a symphony?! Senpai’s job is super cool!”

Under the amber light of the cafe’s chandelier, you can’t help but feel a certain déjà vu at your current situation. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re having tea with your high school underclassman, or maybe it’s simply the residue of your more recent wistful thinking.

Yet again, it still hasn’t registered into your mind how you’d miraculously manifested Lev into proximity just from your sheer yearning... You kind of feel selfish.

“It’s just a freelance job though, it’s probably not as impressive as being a model,” you say.

Lev crosses his arms huffily, and you worry if you’ve started to offend him. Until he opens his mouth again. “Modelling is suuuper embarassing. Sometimes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that ‘that’s my face!’ or ‘I made that pose with that other model’. The agency’s really harsh on the way I dress too—I mean, what’s wrong with wearing a shirt that says ‘HERBIVORE’ to go to Lawson’s?”

You stifle a giggle as he rambles on about “the time I had to cross-dress as a woman because the female model quit on the day of the shoot”. For someone who had grown up to be a lean, rather attractive figure, you can’t shake your head away from the thought that the 16-year old Haiba Lev is still stuck inside the body of a corporate slave. There’s a sense of relief that accompanies the feeling, and memories of your high school days slowly come into picture—

“One black tea and a latte for the lovely couple?” a kind-looking waiter gently sidles in between you, cutting Lev off from his rant, and you from your reflection.

Turning a vivid shade of crimson, you stutter, “O-oh... we are not—”

“Thank you,” Lev grins dashingly, enough to make your heart race and a few passers-by to stop in their tracks.

Once the waiter retreats back into the pantry, the man across you slowly leans forward to whisper endearingly. “My sister wants me to practice my English while I’m abroad. You think I got my message across, Senpai?”

“You did well, Haiba-kun.” There are a lot of things you want to ask him really. If he really knew the meaning behind the waiter’s sentence. Or if he realized he’d nearly pronounced ‘you’ with an extra ‘th’.

... Or why he’s pouring in a mound of sugar into your cup of tea.

“H-Haiba-kun, that order’s mine...”

“Hm? Yeah, I know,” he mutters, the soft clinking of the spoon against glass echoing in your head. “You like your stuff really sweet, right? Man, I used to be really worried the first few times we had tea together.”

That’s right, you gulp. The endless hours you’d spent together in the Orchestra Club room... he really did learn a lot of things about you that time, didn’t he? Although you had merely been friends, Lev had grown on you, as if he’d always been there from the start. And you wonder: what else does he remember about you?

“Ah, by the way,” Lev starts. “Are you still thinking about setting up that music store you wanted?”

“Of course,” you mumble. It was only a naïve dream was what you meant to say, but in the presence of such a captivating man, all the gears in your head seemed to... dislocate.

Lev smiles a simple smile. Boyish at best, but still enough to enrapture you into his lingering gaze.

“I’m glad.... I’m glad you haven’t given up. You know, the old L/N-senpai would’ve called it quits because you thought you weren’t good enough. But look at you now! Soon enough, you’ll be off to teach music to the world.”

Your heart is already doubling in size at his words. Any more and you’d probably explode... You’d lost it. You’ve lost all the capability to keep your heart in control, and now you are smiling like a maniac in front of the last person you wanted to see in this state.

But he only laughs. Youthful and full of color. Unchanging from all those years ago.

“Wahahaha! You finally smiled! We should celebrate, you know. Just a small holiday from all that hard work. Say... are you still going to be in Vienna in the weekend?”

“I’m free on those days. But what’s all this about?”

Hiding his bashful smirk behind his cup of coffee, Lev murmurs. “We have some catching up to do, don’t we—Uwaah! Hot!”

Unchanging indeed, you shake your head, calling over the waiter for an extra set of napkins.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. February 2013.

There is a tea party set stashed between the two cardboard boxes filled with sheet music and spare melodicas. They’ve been left behind by your graduated seniors, who insisted that tea, “as the prime component to a good host”, was to be kept in the club room at all times, case there were any visiting guests.

...Of course, such things never happened. And you always ended up drinking the tea by yourselves. But even with the departure of your beloved seniors, you can never shake off the habit of drinking and restocking the supplies whenever required.

So you wonder if you should really be thanking your tea-loving upperclassmen for the free beverages.

“That’s a lot of sugar!” Lev gasps in awe, the emeralds in his eyes twisting and shining with the cascade of crystals falling into your cup of tea. “I bet you have a lot of cavities in your mouth, Senpai.”

“I brush my teeth very well so I don’t think anything like that’s every happened to me,” you say, irritably trying to ignore the tactless comment from your starry-eyed underclassman. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in my club room, hasn’t it? I’m glad you didn’t get lost trying to get here.”

He grumbles, crossing his arms in faux-anger. “Geez! I won’t get lost like that so easily! Besides...”

Lev takes a moment to drink in the warmth of the club room’s solace. The grand piano in the corner. The orange light streaming through the open curtains. Your curious face, like something out of a fairytale book.

“This place is full of good memories, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget something like that.”

You chuckle at his monologue. “You sound like my grandfather, Haiba-kun.”

Lev’s face warps into something reminiscent of a prune.

“Senpai, we’re only two years apart!” he fumes. “You didn’t invite me here just to crush my self-esteem, right?! C-Come on, aren’t you going to show me the audition piece you wanted me to hear?”

There is a burning urge inside of you that’s telling you to “pull at his leg just a little more...”, but nevertheless, the artist within you says to keep your audience at bay. And so, the curtains open and your fingers dance on familiar keys.

You’ve played for him before. Songs like ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ or ‘Ma Mère L’oye’. Songs that you love, much like the one you’re performing for him right now. But you’re shaking in your seat. Wondering, anticipating, fearing.

He’s staring so much, you bite your lip, trying to avert your focus from Lev’s unbreakable gaze.

A single spectator wracks your brain even more than a theatre full of different kinds people—enthusiasts, university scouts, onlookers. But in your dismal, little club room, there is only your underclassman. Someone who knows nothing of music, but lacks so much knowledge that you know any of his critique would come from honesty alone.

...Why do you care so much about one person’s opinion?

You don’t realize how long you’ve been pondering until your train of thought is abruptly thwarted by the end of your song. You finish on a satisfying note and your endearing onlooker suddenly springs on his feet to shower you in applause.

“What the heck—that was so cool! I’ve never seen anyone play like that before!” Lev stumbles, everything and anything he’d planned to say pouring out as a blubbering mess as your face grows hotter from the attention. “Senpai, you’ll definitely pass the audition if you play just like that.”

“Y-You really think so?” he’s probably just being nice, you think. But for a spare moment, could you simply imagine that he means every word?

“I know so!” he smiles, the palpitations in your chest growing intense by the second. “You just have to keep going, won’t you?”

Even if you’re not brave enough to believe it, you want to believe that there’s a single Haiba Lev in this unyielding universe who believes that you, a mere side character who wishes for more, can and will.

You feel invincible.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

Did you know that swans mate for life? As a symbol of love and affection, they’re widely known to curve their necks together in a shape of a heart when courting. A form of elegance at its finest... until they start hissing.

“They’re so big! Senpai, come take a look at the swans!”

Folding the brochure into a tiny square, you return to your companion’s side, peering over the railings of the bridge to catch a glimpse of the thrush of white feathers down below.

You gulp. They are much larger than you expected.

“They’re surprisingly loud, aren’t they?” you mutter, watching a cygnet waddle its way out of the water onto the banks of the canal. You didn’t want to say, but it slightly reminded you of Lev the first time he’d waddled his way into the the Orchestra Club room.

With the constant squawking of the swans, the both of you find yourself in silence. For you, at least, the past two days viewing all sorts of Austrian sights with Lev had been strangely more gratifying than you’d fathomed. Lev, who’d been as excitable as he’d always been, breathes in peace, plumes of white forming from his mouth.

“This weekend’s been nice, hasn’t it?” you break the silence, observing the smooth junctures of his face. Lev turns to you slowly, his voice squeezing out.

“Don’t say that.”

Your blood freezes. “What?”

“Saying things like that...” Lev sighs wilfully and turns back to the view of the canal. He frowns. “I don’t want to think that this weekend is going to be over soon.”

You want to cry out. Me too. Me too, me too, me too. Your entire body is so full of butterflies you want to double over and pass out. But he continues.

“Travelling and talking with you is so fun, I never want it to end... It’s kind of embarrassing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “D-Do you think so too? Am I a selfish person for thinking that?”

You shake your head. “It’s not embarrassing, Haiba-kun. I—”

Are you red? Are you blushing? Your face feels so hot, you can’t even finish your sentence. He’s so close. So close to you. You want to be reliable, you want to reply, but you can’t. Under his bewitching gaze, you’ve fallen so deep.

When Lev opens his mouth again, it’s like everything around you—the bridge, the people, the swans have entirely vanished. “L/N-senpai, c-can I tell you something? Something I wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Eh?

“I’ve always liked you, Senpai. I really, really like you.”

Blank. Your mind goes blank, even when you whisper a small, “Really?”

You’re happy, you’re so happy you want to jump and shout to the world that you love him. Awfully. Dearly. It’s all like a train had crashed into you headfirst, and you can’t settle on a proper response before the floodgates burst open.

“Wh-Whoa! Don’t cry!” he flails his arms in panic as more tears dribble down your cheeks. “Geez, Senpai, at least reply to me first...”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you laugh, wiping your eyes with the edges of your scarf. “I’m just so happy, I didn’t know how to react.”

Lev’s chest inflates for a moment before he lunges forward to encapsulate you in his embrace. Between the persistent layers of clothing, the beating of his heart resonates deeply against your face. It’s quick and lively, warm enough to remind you of the swirled feelings that you harbor for one another.

“Oh, thank god...” Lev grins, burying his face in your shoulder. “You feel the same way...”

Humming calmly into his ear, you revel in the closure. “I really, really like you too, Haiba-kun.”

And none of you lets go—save for when a swan makes its way up to the bridge to peck at Lev’s boots.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. March 2023.

“... Lev, wake up.”

Feeling a slight nudge on his cheek, Lev tethers over opening his eyes to wonder at your beautiful smile or bury his face even deeper into the sheets.

It’s not like he didn’t favor you, but as of now, the comforts of your shared bed was more important. And thus, Haiba Lev, age 26, shrouds himself under the plush duvet and focuses himself on the sweet dream he was having about you.

“Lev, I know you can hear me...” he hears you sigh, long and airy, just enough to lull him back to sleep. “You have a fitting today, don’t you? You’re going to trouble Matsuyo-san and Alisa-nee if you arrive late.”

Isn’t that on Thursday? Actually... what day is it today? He isn’t very good with dates and formalities—that’s why he considers himself lucky to have you! A cute lover to bring him back to land during the day, and to shower with love and to cuddle with during the evening.

Yawning widely, Lev owlishly wrenches his eyes open, the crystalline sunlight from the bedroom window illuminating your face like a halo.... and was that his shirt you were wearing?

Lucky me~ he grins goofily.

Pressing his lips together, Lev pulls you by the wrist and before you can avoid the sudden attack, you’ve collapsed once more into a tangled mess of limbs and crooked sheets, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Let’s just stay in bed today, Y/N-san~” he slurs, nuzzling closer to you. How catlike, you think. “I want to be lovey-dovey and kissy-kissy again...”

He yawns again, a few stray tresses of silver falling over his face. As if he wasn’t as attractive every hour of the day, you really have learned how to take control of your extreme heart palpitations around him.

Your adorable younger boyfriend, ah... he really is your weakness, isn’t he?

“I’m really sorry, but I have to open up the shop soon,” you reluctantly peel yourself away from him, eliciting a small whimper from the Leviathan in your bed. “I’ll make it up to you when I finish teaching my evening lessons and when you come home, okay?”

Stubborn as a goat, Lev grumbles. “I’ll come back early, you know. Can you not do your evening lessons today?”

“Hm? Why not?” your raised eyebrow is cynical, but is juxtaposed by the gentle strokes of your palm on the crown of his head.

As much as Lev loves you (he does, he really does!), it’s rather annoying when he can’t tell if you’re seriously being oblivious or simply teasing him. He hopes for neither, but in his case, you’re an addict to his gags and without a doubt, you’re definitely messing with him right now.

“Those damn brats... I don’t like the way they stare you up during your classes.”

You laugh, raucously. And Lev considers leaving you to catch a break from the constant jeering. When you finally pipe down, you shift closer to him and press your head onto his bare chest.

“Lev, they’re nine. How else are they going to learn to play if they don’t watch me do it first?” you chuckle. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. You should be worrying about that fitting you have in a few hours.”

“Geez, fine,” he groans. “A kiss before I shower?”

You know exactly where this is going. “Just one.”

Lighting up like a Christmas tree, Lev makes quick work of his hands and tenderly cup your cheek before placing a timid kiss on your lips.

No morning breath, you notice. As expected of a professional model.

“One more...” he whispers, swooping down on your lips once again.

Two, three and maybe seven kisses later, Lev has you caged between his arms, his looming figure propped proudly over you as he continues to pepper you with affection. The moment he starts to lap up your bottom lip, you know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“It’s so early, Y/N-san,” he mumbles, pleading eyes making your heart turn to jelly. “We have a few more hours before we really have to go, don’t we? So... in the meantime...?”

Sighing, you can only turn a deep red—he really has you around his finger, doesn’t he? Oh well. You suppose it won’t hurt to push back your morning lessons for a few minutes, right?

[siennahrobek]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31766296/chapters/82386322

Future Past

6 BBY

Luke is eleven years old.

Luke went through a lot of firsts during his time with Ben. Often times, they could be some of his happiest memories, ones he would cherish and go back to when he was feeling sad or frustrated or generally negative.

The first time Luke saw him fight with a lightsaber put him in awe. It hadn’t been the first time Luke had seen the saber, but it had been the first time he had seen it – and Ben – in action. It was a bit inspiring. It only made Luke want to be a jedi more. It wasn’t all about the violence – although that may have played a part – but Ben was so smooth and calm, at one with the saber.

It sang.

And it was absolutely beautiful.

Luke remembered one of the earliest fights with an Inquisitor. It had been the first time Ben had drawn and ignited his lightsaber for battle. And Luke would probably never say otherwise – it was mesmerizing. No one fought like Ben. And Ben just obliterated his opponent.

Or, he supposed he would have, if Luke had listened to him.

At the time, Luke thought it would be the craziest thing he would ever see. He didn’t remember most events leading up to it, but he did remember the man who just pounced on them out of nowhere, a red saber practically screeching toward Luke’s head – was the saber screaming? Was Luke? It could have been both.

Ben had blocked the blade before it made contact with Luke and the boy’s vision had turned white from the light emanating from the lightsabers. Luke could not even breathe.

“Luke! To the ship!” Ben had barked in a tone Luke had never heard from him before. But Luke did not disobey, he scrambled away from the contradiction of the sobbing and shrieking of one saber and the quiet, protective and comforting strength of the other.

He tore across the grass, stains on his knees and arms from the dirt as he raced to their ship. Once at the ramp, he had turned around. He couldn’t help it.

“Ben!”

Ben had taken precious time to look over at him, eyes flashing in some kind of protective fury that only gentled at the sight of him.

The strange man had thrown Ben into a tree for the distraction.

Luke let out a cry.

It would be the only blow the Inquisitor would make. The man moved towards Luke and the boy was virtually frozen in fear. The red saber and its user just turned in time to block Ben’s initial blow, once again in the fight with a warrior and not a child. It was pretty much over after that, by then. A bare few mere strokes and the duel was finished with the Inquisitor on the ground. Unconscious or dead, Luke was too frazzled to know. But he did remember running into Ben and leaping into his arms.

He had caught the child, but it was a close thing, and he dropped his saber for the catch, which he did with a grunt at the sudden weight. “I’m so sorry, Ben!” Luke wailed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, beacon. I’m fine,” Ben assured as he shifted himself to hold Luke better, but the boy just curled his arms and legs around the older man so tightly, it was unlikely he would fall even if Ben had let go. He used the force to pull his saber to him and started walking back to the ship.

Luke tucked his face into the crook of Ben’s neck. Ben just patted his back.

“It’s alright, Luke,” he murmured as they walked into the ship. The ramp closed up behind them. “Now do you see why we have rules?”

“Rules can be good,” Luke agreed, muttering in Ben’s neck and hair.

“There is a time and place to both follow and break rules,” he said, gently. “I will try to teach you to decide which is which and when either is good or appropriate.”

Luke just hummed. He didn’t let Ben go for quite some time.

*

It would be weeks later when the force apparition – ghost, Luke thought – of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared to him. He was ready for lessons that Luke would later recognize as kind of undermining or contradicting Ben’s. It was rather confusing, but Luke was young and impressionable. Surely Qui-Gon thought he could get some of his maverick and living force tendencies and lessons in. And he did. Sort of. Eventually.

But it happened later, when Luke understood more, better. What Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t quite realize was how Luke was into Ben, how curious he was about his guardian. When Qui-Gon had came back around again, Luke had learned about padawans. And all he wanted was to be Ben’s.

Which meant, at this stage, he had very little interest in Qui-Gon Jinn’s teachings… unless it pertained to Ben.

“Hello, Luke,” Qui-Gon Jinn greeted warmly. The boy was in his little room, fiddling with a tiny, dull carving knife, going at it in a wooden carving. Blonde hair shifted as he perked, glancing up at the blue hue of the ghost, no longer surprised by his appearance. He nearly threw the knife and wood away from his body but paused, carefully setting them on a tiny shelf, taking several safety precautions in the process.

The ghost tried to stifle his chuckle.

“Hello Master Jinn,” Luke greeted when he was done, sitting cross legged and looking up at him with a wide smile.

“Ah, it’s Master Jinn now, huh?”

“Ben told me about masters and padawans,” Luke replied. “And the difference between slave masters and teacher masters. I think I’m pretty sure I can understand the difference.”

“And how do you think the difference is?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Well, a master like a jedi can become a master, is mastering yourself and learning a topic, or several, where you know more about than most,” Luke replied, and it sounded like he was almost reciting it. Qui-Gon wondered if he had looked it up in a dictionary or had learned and then rehearsed it.

The ghost nodded and drifted towards the boy a little closer. “Would you be amendable to talk?” he asked.

Luke just smiled. “I don’t know what amendable means, but I’d love to talk. I have sooooomany questions,” he said and there was something about his expression that was a tad bit suspicious, but Qui-Gon certainly couldn’t quite understand it.

“Well, I suppose we have some time for some questions…” he drifted off, uncertainly. He was only eleven after all; no doubt he had many questions in general. He just hoped that he could be able to have adequate answers.

“Great!” Luke cheered as he shifted in his bed, pulling the blanket up into his lap and wiping away wooden shavings. “Do you want to sit down?”

The older – dead – man just chuckled again, a bit nervous this time. “Uh, I don’t really need to sit. I’m not even entirely sure that I can.”

Luke shrugged. “Okay. Ben said it’s polite to offer a seat when you can. Speaking of, I should start simple. How long was Ben your padawan?”

“Uh…” Qui-Gon drifted off, uncertainly. This was not what he was expecting. “He became my padawan around age thirteen and he was knighted at twenty-five, after my death,” he answered, and Luke scribbled something in a notebook. “What are you writing?”

Luke shrugged. “No worries. Just thoughts. Do you know his favorite food?”

“Favorite food?”

“Ben’s favorite food,” Luke clarified, staring at him expectantly. The simple questions lasted a few more minutes until they stretched into somethings that needed longer answers, such as, “What was your first mission? What was the most fun mission? Why does Ben not like droids? Did you know my father? Do you know about Ben’s lovers? Or his friends? Does he like candles? What hobbies did he have when he was young? Were you the one who taught him Sabaac? You know when he does that thing? You know that thing with his face? Do you know what that means?”

Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t really have a concept of time as a force ghost, but he knew that much time must have had passed. Luke kept asking question after question, skillfully going from one topic to the next in conversation. But they were nearly all pertaining to Ben. Luke seemed utterly uninterested in anything the jedi had to offer except for insights on Qui-Gon’s former padawan. He had plenty of those, admittedly. But the realization and thought had stunned him next.

It took the old jedi an admittedly embarrassingly long time to realize it.

“You’re stalling,” he noted, dumbfounded.

Luke stopped talking, abruptly, in the middle of what he was saying and stared at him for several moments. And then he glanced down at the chrono at his bedside. Upon seeing the numbers listed, he perked and jumped up, cheering loudly.

Qui-Gon Jinn jerked back, startled.

“I DID IT!” he yelled, spinning around in some type of a dance, waving his hands and legs around as he laughed, near hysterically.

“You did what?”

“I distracted youfor three hours!” Luke grinned at him, standing on his bed with his face and eyes gleaming in pride. “Ben said I couldn’t do it for even one.” The child just jumped off the bed and ran off, away from the room, yelling and screaming in glee. Qui-Gon was left absolutely flabbergasted. And he stayed there for several minutes, too stunned to move.

Eventually, his former apprentice found him in the child’s room, his expression something absolutely amused and completely glowing with pride.

“You are training him to stall,” Qui-Gon noted, incredulous and dumbfounded.

“Yes of course,” Ben affirmed, tucking his hands into his large sleeves.

“For three hours,” Qui-Gon continued slowly.

“I am impressed that he got through that long without some plant or pathetic lifeform’s help,” Ben admitted.

“You still use that form?”

Obi-Wan just hummed. “It has become a bit of an endearment over the years.”

“Three hours,” Qui-Gon repeated, flatly.

“It is a good start,” Ben replied.

“Start? You plan on training him to do that for longer?”

Ben glanced at him, staring for a moment in surprise. He turned a bit to pick up and sweep up some of the wooden shavings Luke had left, as well as straighten his bed, left messed up with Luke’s celebratory dance. “Of course, I do. It is a good skill to have, especially in the galaxy that we currently live in. The one Luke is forced to live in.”

*

“I do have teachings for you,” Qui-Gon urged, gently. After his talk with Ben, he went to find Luke again. He did find him, as it wasn’t a large ship, and he was in the kitchenette area, snacking on some treats. The boy was practically stuffing his face. He glanced at up at the ghost and chewed and then swallowed before he spoke.

“If I need to know them, I’m sure Ben will teach me,” Luke shrugged and made a move to eat more of whatever food he was enjoying. He paused as Qui-Gon kept speaking.

“Has he made rules for seeing and talking to me?” Qui-Gon asked, continued to be dumbfounded. That wasn’t exactly something he was expecting. Obi-Wan – Ben – didn’t seem averse to Qui-Gon teaching and talking with Luke, in fact, he almost seemed to encourage it.

“No,” Luke replied steadily, keeping his eyes on his task as he picked out some of the specific treats from the bag. He didn’t seem too bothered by this line of questioning. Well, at least Ben wasn’t putting a ban on it but if Ben didn’t… Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what was going on. And then Luke kept going, calm and stable as ever. “I did.”

“What? Why?” he sputtered.

“You say dumb things sometimes.”

Qui-Gon did not know what that meant. Or rather, what the boy meant by that. He had only spoken to the youngster twice. “About what?”

Luke shrugged again and popped a treat in his mouth. He seemed to start to offer one to Qui-Gon but then paused and thought about it. It probably came to his attention at that moment that Qui-Gon couldn’t exactly eat. Or drink. It was a bit of a letdown, honestly. Ben kept quite a bit of tea on the ship. “You can be kind of confusing and exhausting sometimes.”

“Confusing and exhausting,” Qui-Gon echoed, confused.

5 BBY

Luke is twelve years old.

“Please be gentle with the controls. I am not convinced these old bones can take it.”

Luke couldn’t help but shrink a bit as his hands tightened around the ship’s controls. His eyes cast down at the board in shame. “Sorry, Ben.”

“No worries. Just keep it in mind,” he gently reminded as he put a hand under the boy’s chin to lift it. “And keep your eyes where you desire to go.”

It wasn’t Luke first lesson when it came to flying the ship, but it was the first time that they were practicing in the dangers of a junk yard. Getting caught was dangerous, of course, but what the trick really was ended up being avoiding others and the debris that was constantly moving. And the creatures that sometimes inhabited the planets underneath the rubble.

Luke was good and they both knew it. He had a knack and talent for it, something Ben had told him he had in common with his father. Ben told him that Anakin Skywalker had been an unparalleled pilot, absolutely amazing in the sky. It had been a note and story that excited the youngster because oh wow he was like his father. In such a way, he was like his father, that was so good and pure, and he wanted nothing more.

He had been so thrilled to hear what they had in common.

“A ship is not an animal. It cannot feel and it cannot learn,” Ben kept speaking, hours into their practice in the junkyard planet. Luke almost laughed. Ben was good with animals, something he had learned fairly quickly, and he said it was something Luke could get better with as well. Luke didn’t get to see a lot of animals, but Ben said it was natural to connect with others in bonds. Luke was looking forward to learning. “Whereas a beast – a varactyl for example – can learn and move with you, a ship cannot and needs explicit instructions,” he explained. “However, a too firm and strict grasp on the controls can jerk around your movements and it won’t make flying any easier.

Luke nodded as he softened his hand, not even shooting Ben a glance. “Got it.”

He kept lightening his touch on the controls, leaning with the movements, putting all his attention on the outside surroundings to avoid or go around with an emphasis on where he was going. These places were natural obstacle courses.

“You are going very well,” Ben hummed. Luke barely heard him. “Let’s kick things up a notch, eh?”

At first, Luke wasn’t entirely sure what he meant but it soon became clear. They were going faster. Objects and downed ships flew past them, and Luke could almost feel the wind whistling in his ears. Logically, he knew that was impossible, that it was just the engines working to keep up with what Luke was asking of them.

But oh, did it feel like it.

Luke just let out a whoop.

*

(Luke would be thirteen the first time he outflies Darth Vader. He would never forget it. Perhaps it was luck and circumstance rather than solely on skill. Luke certainly thinks so even if Ben says there is no such thing as luck. Luke takes that as a compliment.)

Present Past

Start

Luke was left alone for the night.

All in all, he didn’t actually sleep much. Enough, but not much. He walked around the assigned room, looking and searching. There had to be something, anything, he could use. He was a survivor, he was determined, like his guardian before him. There was a thorough search of his room, and he collected any tools he thought he could possibly use. There was not much. He didn’t have the quite the feelings and foresight as Ben did, but he did have instincts and he had learned from some the best. Afterwards, Luke knelt on the floor, laying a thin folded blanket under his knees. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and just sunk into the Force.

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” Luke exhaled as he recited the mantra, quiet and nearly inaudible, even to himself. He had found something in the jedi mantra, especially after Ben clarified the intricacies of it. At first glance, in the initial stages of his explanation, it had been incredibly hard to understand in a way that wasn’t harsh on the jedi. But as Ben quietly explored and continued to elaborate, Luke understood more. He didn’t completely understand it all yet, but the mantra had been a source of comfort for him. Something to say when things were hard. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

He reached out, avoiding the oily dark presence that he knew to be Count Dooku and gave it a wide berth. There wasn’t a great deal of the force’s presence on the ship, being so enormously inhabited with droids, void of life. He reached further. Dull, dull, disgustingly dark. Moving along, he startled at a brightness. Not the clone troopers, as there was only a singularity in the particular area, but it was warm and stunning and…

Purposefully tempered.

He swallowed harshly and moved on, but he kept it in mind. As he reached further, there was a small mass of light somewhere near the edges of the space, but, if he concentrated and looked closer, harder, more, he could make it out.

Make out…

One; soft and warm, loyal and curious. Worried.

Two; steadfast and solid, collected.

Three; questioning, irritated, full of life and joy.

Four; snarky and ready, bundled and sardonic.

Five; a tad determined, understated, kind.

Six; working, working, working, comfort, trying, trying, trying.

Luke exhaled in relief. The troopers, strong in their light and presence. At the very least, alive and not in immediate danger of dying. There was that, at least. He opened his eyes and could almost feel them softening. The things around him started to blurry and his hand reached up to his face. It came back damp. Oh, so he’s crying. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, wiping the tears away. It was something, he wasn’t alone yet. He could do this. He could do this. “They are alive. Now I just need to figure out how to get us out of here.

*

Count Dooku’s brief communication with the Queen of Zygerria had not gone as smoothly as it should have. He took it with the strength, demand and grace as he always did but she was determined to keep some of her freedom. Pity. She wasn’t the only one that was actively annoying him. There was so much going on, and so much to think and figure out. After the call, Count Dooku managed to retire to his quarters with minimal distractions or encounters. He would have to figure out what to do with the wounded traitor besalisk. It was fairly obvious what the former jedi wanted, what he apparently thought he was worthy of.

But Dooku had little interest in that tutelage.

But he wasn’t useless, Dooku could get something out of him.

His assistant had brewed him some fresh tea in a pot and so he walked over to the stand and poured himself half a glass. Taking a sip, he took a breath and tried to organize what he currently knew. Something was happening. In the force. In the galaxy. Something even his master hadn’t – couldn’t – account for.

And young Luke was centered in the middle of it. Dooku didn’t know how or why or anything of that sort. He didn’t know specifics, he couldn’t. He hardly knew anything about the boy at all. It was all rather sudden. And it was, in fact, incredibly frustrating.

The child had most certainly been trained by Kenobi, that much was clear, by the way he moved and even the way he spoke. He had spent plenty of time fighting and often conversing briefly with the jedi. Dooku also had a lot of spies and intelligence feeding him information, especially when it came to Skywalker and Kenobi. But he had never even had heard of an inkling of anyone named Luke.

It was like he just manifested one moment.

Where did he come from?

Obviously, Kenobi had kept him well hidden and kept in contact with him. So much so that Luke had learned well from the jedi. How could he be so much like a padawan without being one and never show up in Kenobi’s life. His research had come up with very little. Luke was about fifteen or sixteen, he’d wager, making Kenobi about twenty, perhaps, when he was born. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Dooku hadn’t paid much attention to his grand padawan until the war started, aside from his own master’s thoughts and notes on Kenobi and his padawan, but once Kenobi started rising quickly thought the war, proving himself such a worthy and capable general, Dooku looked more.

How could he not?

*

“Ah,” Luke smiled, looking up as the door opened to his room. It was fake, of course, it was hard to try being pleased with the sight before him when he was very much, not. Count Dooku and his assistant strode in, a tray in the latter’s hand. It had been quite some time since they had left him alone, plenty of time to think. Luke could smell the aroma of Alderaanian Jasmine. It made his eyes near flutter, oh did he love that. He was sitting on the floor, kneeling, meditating and did not move when the two of them came in. “My keeper,” he pondered, and he pushed as much amusement in his voice as he could. “What do I owe the pleasure? Would you prefer our delightful back and forth banter or are you here with questions? I must confess, I do not imagine I have many answers to the latter,” he admitted.

“I have had sustenance brought,” Dooku replied, stiffly.

“Cool,” Luke grinned wider as he stood up and gratefully took the tray. He set it on the bed and plopped down next to it. The food was easy to eat, probably could be done with fingers, even though he was given silverware. Dooku probably expected him to eat it with said silverware, but Luke had little inclinations for such things at the moment. “Hey, how far into the war do you think you’ll make?”

Dooku startled but to his credit, he barely showed his surprise. It could not have been a question that he was expecting. Luke didn’t think anyone could really expect that. “Excuse me?”

“When, during the war, do you think you will meet your demise?” Luke asked, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. Dooku looked just a bit stunned, the difference between the Luke before and the Luke that was in front of him now. And, of course, the abrupt inquiry about Dooku’s lifespan. “I was thinking of starting a betting pool,” he paused as he chewed through some of the food and thought about it for a moment. “I’m gonna place my bets just rrrriiiiigghhhttt before the war ends.”

Dooku seemed rather curious but not in any way amused. “Why then?”

“By then,” Luke shrugged, not even giving him a glance as he ripped apart some of the bread. It was rather good stuff. “I imagine your master will no longer have a use for you.”

Then he said something that Luke didn’t completely understand or hear until much later, when he thought about it. “You are definitely related to Kenobi,” he had muttered, deep under his breath.

“What?” Luke sputtered.

*

Dooku led Luke down the halls, accompanied by a squad of battle droids silently. Their talk had been a bit long, as Dooku did not approve of the initial conversation. Luke had realized where he knew Zygerria, it was a slave planet. And that was what they talked about. Slaves. Slavery. Luke isn’t entirely sure how it comes about, how Dooku is willing to give so much, about their allies in the Zygerrians. It was a difficult conversation for Luke, one that he was fairly certain Dooku noticed and drew some conclusions of. But it was a conversation that Luke was a bit passionate about.

He had seen what slavery had done, what it was, on the planet he grew up on. He had heard the stories about his grandmother who had lived decades in it before finally able to be free. Before she fell in love and started a family when her first son became a jedi. He had heard about where his father had come from, what his father had done to free himself in a pod race.

He knows Dooku is having problems with the Queen of Zygerria. It is obvious, as they are being escorted to the planet. The count said he will make her see reason. Luke couldn’t help but smirk and gives him a little advice. She is a slaver; she will not cower before him. It is not in her nature.

Luke wasn’t entirely sure how the conversation ended, but it eventually did and Dooku had led him out of the room with a squad of droids. Backup? Perhaps. It didn’t matter. Dooku held the cards for now.

One of the droids opened a door and Dooku gestured for him to step inside. As they entered the room, Luke realized what it was. It was some sort of training room, something large and wide, with very few things that could hinder any movement. And as they did, a familiar hilt filled his vision. It was Ben’s saber.

“You do not have a lightsaber,” the Count noted. Well, wasn’t that obvious, Luke thought to himself, trying to temper the sarcasm that he felt was rolling off his tongue in waves. There was a reason he had been using Ben’s lightsaber. Sure, he was used to it, but then again, if he had his own, he would probably be used to that one as well.

“No.”

“But you are well acquainted on how to use one,” he continued his obvious statements, which irked the teenager a little bit. Gee, you think? Of course, he knew how to use one, Dooku had told him he had reviewed the footage of some of his fight with Krell. And he used a saber during the battle.

But Luke only shrugged. “Lit up end away from me. Stab. Swish, swish.”

Dooku looked down at him, unimpressed and skeptical with something else, something that made him think he was seeing through Luke’s façade. This was a bit different than the prim and perfectly mannered young man that had shared a meal with him the day prior. Would it put the Count off his game with the whiplash? Ah, Luke didn’t know, in particular, but it was rather fun.

“I suppose then, you will be needing this,” he replied instead, stiffly as he offered the saber. Luke quicky took hold of it, his fingers curling around the familiar grooves with a practiced motion. The Count just watched, curious.

“What do you want?”

“I would like to see an exhibition of your skills.”

“Why?”

“I am interested in seeing the difference between you and Skywalker, since you have both been trained by Kenobi.”

The difference. The difference. There was a lot. Luke was his father’s son, perhaps, and at one point, Luke would have absolutely relished in the similarities between his father and himself. At that one point, Luke used to desperately try to find those connections and comparisons. But after Luke knew the truth, after he knew what his father was and what he had become, Luke had just as desperately tried to find differences and distinctions. How hard it was, being in the biological lineage of such a monster.

Luke wondered how Ben would take it, waking up to a former padawan that wasn’t quite yet a monstrous maniac. How would he react then? Luke wasn’t sure how he felt about it at the moment. He had spent so much of his life wanting so much to know his father but finding out what he had become and what he had done, had been rather difficult. “I am your prisoner, not your entertainment,” Luke huffed as he narrowed his eyes.

“As my… prisoner. I hold all the cards,” Dooku replied, calmly, unperturbed by Luke’s scowl. “Behind that door,” he gestured across the room and Luke followed the movement with his eyes. “Are your clone troopers.”

Luke perked visibly. He couldn’t help it.

Droids came out from the sides of the room as Dooku continued. Luke just eyed them warily, trying not to move to look at them more directly. “The droids have been ordered to take that room and kill whoever is inside.”

Luke froze.

Dooku had known he had won this conflict, just as Luke glanced away in an unavoidable show of his defeat. “If you would prefer them still breathing, I suggest you do what I say and fight.”

He leaned closer.

“Their lives depend on it.”

Luke’s eyes were suddenly locked onto Dooku, cold and calculating for any signs of it being a bluff. He couldn’t take that chance. In the moment, Luke’s face became washed in the blue light of Ben’s lightsaber blade. He turned, spinning it around in a stretch and experiment as he surveyed the scene. At the moment, the droids were only B1s, he realized as his mind started up quickly as he scanned the area. Not any other kinds but he doubted it would stay that way.

Dooku was testing him.

Like leapt high into the fray, a perfect Aratu jump whirling Ben’s saver around in flawless arcs, his blade hitting his intended marks. He quickly made his way towards the door, taking out any droid he could. He had to take up a defensive position, wait them out, he thought, nearly hysterical.

He couldn’t let them die; he had been working so hard to keep them alive.

Boil. Boil. Boil.

Waxer. Waxer. Waxer.

Rex. Fives. Jesse. Tup. Check.

His silent chanted in his mind as he ruthlessly slashes through droids, trying to calculate everything in his head. Anger and frustration built up in his chest. He felt like was getting nowhere.

Something started to whisper.

Something dark and oily, with promises that weren’t verbal or understandable but somehow, he knew the intent. He stabbed a droid, his saber plunging down vertically and then viciously ripped it out, taking the head of another incoming. He had to calm down.

“There is no passion,” he exhaled, unsteady. “There is serenity.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, nearly reaching a semi good defensive position, he spotted Count Dooku frown.

The droids were thinning.

The victory did not last.

Out of the side doors, several B2 droids stormed in, already firing relentlessly. Luke leapt and landed on one, crushing it with his weight and saber, slicing through another nearby. He grinned. Dooku was going to be disappointed.

“There is no chaos,” he recited, feeling his heart slow into something enduring and steady. “There is harmony.”

Scattering few were left. Rolling droids screamed in, just a couple. Luke racked his brain for information. He didn’t remember what they were called but single shields, vulnerable when moving. He needed to figure a way to defend his position and destroy them. The boy forced pushed into another that landed them in a wall and went to attack the third type of droid. Running a bit further from the door was a risk but it worked. The droids folded up to move and chase. He dispatched them with swift grace.

Luke turned to grin at Dooku, a bit smug.

A single eyebrow was raised.

The teenager raised a hand, just a bit, and clenched his fist. Behind him, two droids strung up in the air by an invisible force and folded in on themselves, crushed. There was none left.

“Adequate,” Dooku acknowledged but he sounded a bit miffed.

Luke ignored him and ran to the door to check on his troopers. He stopped just as Count Dooku spoke, somehow making his voice louder without changing the tone or intonation.

“We are not done.”

Luke spun around, shoulders bristling and eyes blazing. This seemed to garner Dooku’s attention. “I did your stupid test. You said I could see them.”

“I did not,” Dooku replied and paused as the familiar traitorous besalisk came in sauntering like he owned the pace. He looked better than before, when he had been seen at dinner. The bruises from their fight had healed up and the stump where one of his arms used to be was cleanly bandaged. Luke narrowed his eyes.

“Oh look, it’s the traitor,” he grumbled, irritably.

Count Dooku allowed himself a smirk as he swept over to the former jedi to speak with him. He looked rather pleased with himself, like this was something he arranged, but trying to pass it off as chance. Luke knew better. He had almost certainly arranged this. “Ah… Krell. Just in time.”

“In time?” Krell asked.

“Would you like a rematch?”

“A rematch?”

If Krell didn’t stop echoing Count Dooku, Luke thought he might scream.

“With the young man who took your arm.” Krell realized what was being said and turned towards Luke, something gleeful and hungry in his eyes, as he figured out what was wanted from him. And it was something he was certainly happy to do it appeared. Not only a chance to beat Luke down in an environment where he would be superior, but also show off in front of the count.

Oh kriff.

Luke suppressed a wince and flared a glare at him instead to mask it. “I’d be delighted,” Krell practically purred. The teenager tried not to gag.

Luke’s eyes swept the room again. There was barely anything around here could actually use, much less something to his advantage. Discreetly, he swallowed. His chances for winning this one was even lower than the first time.

“Master Krell will get to kill what is behind that door,” Dooku added, gesturing to the door Luke had been defending. “If he defeats you.”

Luke’s heart raced.

Oh. OH.

It was easy to see Dooku’s game. He wanted Luke desperate, angry willing to do anything to save the troopers.

Dooku wanted him to use the dark side.

Or worse. Fall.

Ever since Luke had wrapped his head around who his father was, he had made a vow.

He would never Fall.

He wasn’t going to break that bow. Ever.

He won’t do that to Ben.

Krell didn’t seem to get it but then again, he probably didn’t know what was behind the door either. Luke took a deep breath.

In for four.

Out for seven.

In for four.

Out for eight.

Krell lit a saber, something sickly and bloody red. Dooku glanced at it, his face barely twitching. The besalisk grinned, a bit wild and more than a bit pleased.

Defensive position, Luke thought to start. He didn’t have to wait long for Krell to come at him. Even down an arm and with only one lightsaber, he was fast and strong. Luke could only try to be ready. It was just as hard as the last time, though, especially at the beginning, trying to defend against his barrage of attacks and blows. Krell’s physical strength was several times his own, with their respective species and Luke tried to calculate the best mix and match of moves and styles to meet him with between strikes.

Predictably, where Krell had strength and size that loomed over his opponent, Luke had speed and agility, moving in between the twirls of the saber, just at the right moment, which was absolutely crucial. Luke thought himself lucky. He was trained by Ben, a duelist whose greatest skill with a lightsaber was his impenetrable shield, not giving his opponent an opening to strike or move. Luke wasn’t as good at it, of course, but working with Ben and working with that style, he had to learn quickly where he could find and get through that type of shield and movements where there often appeared to be none.

Luke could find openings to at least avoid strikes, even with Ben. Avoiding Krell’s saber moves were practically easy in comparison.

Krell’s experience was an asset and a strength. The besalisk had been training since birth, he had decades on Luke of nonstop and constant training. Luke, however, quick to learn, had started late and wasn’t taught in the same environment. Ben didn’t have as much time to teach him, especially in the confines of their little ship. If he and Krell were in another environment, Luke might have been able to use his surroundings to his advantage. He may have had a chance.

He didn’t know how long the duel had lasted. He was pretty sure he had stood his own longer than he thought, but as all things, it had come to an end. In his case, hard, fast and cruel. Luke had a lot of endurance, Ben had certainly made sure of that, both physically and in the Force. Of course, his strength and connection to it, as it had rapidly grown over the years, had helped as well. Maybe Luke could have won this one, if things had been different.

But he was rather lucky Count Dooku seemed to want him alive.

Luke had been knocked to the ground, roughly, and a blade came down on his head. Upon rolling out of the way, he could feel the heat sizzle as it hit the floor instead, next to him. He blocked a few more blows but couldn’t seem to buy enough time to get up off the floor. Krell used the Force to make him rise before pushing him into the wall so hard it rattled his skull.

A red blade came down upon him again and Luke just couldn’t-

“Enough.”

Luke wasn’t sure what was happening, but Krell’s blade twisted and instead of cutting through his head, the saber scraped and grazed the opening between his gorget and his pauldron. Luke couldn’t help but let out a cry. It hurt, it was searing, and he could feel Krell’s satisfaction. Was it because he had beat Luke? Was it because he had wounded him? The boy tried to swallow down the pain, reaching out for the Force, for something, anything.

It helped soothe the pain, at least.

“You were meant to spar, not kill him,” Dooku’s lip curled in a bit of distaste, but his voice remained as poised and flat as always.

Krell just scoffed and let Luke fall to the ground, his back rubbing down the wall. Luke just tried to catch his breath as the besalisk’s attention went to the Count. “He’s not even Kenobi’s padawan. What could you possible want with this welp?”

Dooku’s eyes were cold but vaguely interested, like he saw something different. Luke didn’t even wait a moment more. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, and ran to the door. He opened it and…

No one was in there.

Luke couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“You lied to me.”

“A gamble,” Dooku strode up next to him and shrugged. “Jedi are soft-hearted fools, and they often pass that sentiment onto their children.”

Luke didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.

“But you aren’t a jedi.”

He hated that Dooku was right. Ultimately, however, it didn’t matter. He would live like a jedi. To his last breath. And perhaps, even after.

“You do not use your full strength,” Dooku hummed as he continued. “If you had, it would have given you some advantage.” He didn’t say whether that advantage would have led him to victory or not. And it didn’t really matter.

“My full strength?”

“Your blows could be much more powerful, if you are open to it.”

“You mean if I open up to the dark side,” Luke guessed.

“There is far more power than the jedi are willing to open to,” Dooku replied, his eyes flashing with something so quick, he almost missed it.

Luke just heard Krell scowl. He didn’t know if the former jedi was listening or even heard them, but he didn’t like them speaking to one another. If he was looking for accolades, Luke thought, a bit petty, he would have to look elsewhere. It almost made him chuckle, as it was rather amusing. He wondered when the besalisk would finally get it.

Dooku didn’t want Pong Krell. He was pretty sure the Sith wanted Luke.

Luke just smirked to himself, out of the sight of the count. Dooku would end up rather disappointed.

Luke would never fall.

“Congratulations,” Dooku’s assistant said to Krell, monotone with a bit of flatness thrown in for good measure. Luke couldn’t tell if she meant it or not. “You just beat a fifteen-year-old non-jedi child in a duel of strength.”

Maybe not.

Krell just scowled again.

She turned, mechanically, towards her master. “My Lord, we are approaching Zygerrian space. We should be there within the hour.”

Dooku nodded and swiped Ben’s saber from Luke’s hand before the boy could even try to keep it away. Pain raced down his chest and shoulders, through his arm. “We will be having dinner with the Zygerrian Queen,” he informed him, briskly. “I expect you to join. You will not attempt to flee or contact the Republic. Do not even think about it. Do not speak unless directly spoken to. Any attempts at sabotage – at any level – will result in the torture and expectation of the clone troopers. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My assistant will take you back to our room,” he continued, calmly. “You are to shower and dress with what is laid before you. She will give you some bacta for your wound. Clean it well. You will go to the bridge and await arrival,” Dooku added. “Understood?”

“Yes, of course lord,” Luke grumbled as he tried to temper his glare. “I do want something from you.”

“You may request.”

“I want confirmation about my troopers, that they haven’t been harmed.”

“My word isn’t enough?”

Luke snorted.

“Alright. I will send for my assistant to arrange someone to come by with proof,” he said after a long moment. “As I said, if you do anything, I will kill them.”

Luke grinned at him, all blood and teeth. “I understand. But Count, you should also know. If anything happens to them, you will not only lose my cooperation, but you may find that you lose more appendages than you care to miss.”

With a swish of his cape and a gesture for Krell to follow, Dooku was gone, leaving Luke, weaponless, surrounded by destroyed battle droids and an evil subordinate. She did not waste time, as she turned towards the door, barely pausing to ensure his path to follow. He just sighed and obeyed, trying to keep the pain as dull and to a minimum as he could. Not a word was spoken on their way back. As they reached the destination, she gave him instructions and a map to the bridge. Other areas were to be locked and or blocked off to him.

“It would be prudent to travel straight to your destination.” She gave him a small package and then she was gone.

Luke stripped, slow and methodical, carefully stacking his armor pieces neatly on the bed. He winced as he looked at them. They were in a bit of rough shape. He felt a little bad for taking them without asking.

But it had saved his life at the very least once on Umbara.

His finger trailed a gouge in the gorget as he set it down on the sheets. He took off his robes, sweaty, damp and dirty and folded them neatly. Taking deep and soothing breathes, he stepped into the shower and turned it to water. It was nice to get the sand out of his hair from the storm he and Ben had been stuck in and to wash the blood from his skin. Although he had wrapped the saber wound, it still hurt something awful as he showered. He didn’t take an abnormally long time, as eight years on Tatooine had instilled a need to conserve water, whether he meant to or not. He still used it instead of the sonic, however. It may have been rather petty but he kind of thought to use some of it so there would be less for Dooku and whatever other sentients were aboard.

He stepped out and grabbed a towel, drying himself off rather thoroughly. He rubbed and shook excess water from his hair and then washed his face. It had been quite some time since he had felt this clean. The shower was nice.

Luke got a hold of the bacta and put it over the lightsaber graze. The immediate feeling was agony at contact, and he leaned over the counter with a low, pained, groan. It took a few moments for the bacta to release some relief. After several moments of catching his breath and regaining himself, he left the lavatory and ran his eyes over the clothes that had been set out. His lip curled, subtly. Dark, ornate, high collar. Fancy.

Luke just rolled his eyes but conceded and carefully put them on. He couldn’t just play with the men’s lives, especially not with something so trivial as clothes. They were a bit large, he noted. He wondered who they had been originally made for. Luke winced. Oh, he was going to look a bit like Dooku, wasn’t he? The thought was a mite repulsive.

As he finished buttoning up, he looked down at the stack of armor pieces, his eyes once again tracing over every scratch and gouge. He had made a mess of it, he thought. He almost wished he was on a more conventional battlefield. Not this battle of wit and manipulation.

He needed a plan.

He wanted Ben.

Taking a few minutes to just breathe and mingle with the Force, he reached out – both in it and physically – grabbed hold of the pauldron.

He near dropped it immediately, his knees plummeting to the floor, alongside his breath.

Because… because…

Could it be?

It had to be.

He didn’t know how he knew but it just had to be.

Ben was alive. And he was awake.

He was coming. Luke was sure of it.

*

Even though he wanted to, for in search of the troopers, he went straight to the bridge. No one stopped him. Droids barely cast him a glance. He paused at the door of the room, far enough that it would not open automatically as of yet. He took a deep breath.

“There is not emotion,” he breathed. “There is peace.”

Luke might have laughed if the situation was not so dire. He loved the look on Count Dooku’s face. If only he could freeze it, to show it to Ben. It wouldhave made him laugh and Luke would have loved it.

“I told you to wear that was set out for you.” Count Dooku said, stiff with a click of his jaw. Of course, no one could quite tell what the count was thinking, least of all Luke, but one thing was for certain, he was not particularly happy.

“And I am.”

Goodness, he was such a smartass.

“You are wearing plastoid clone armor,” Dooku pointed out, clearly disapproving of that fact.

“I am your prisoner, Count, not your ally. It would be best to make sure others know, don’t you think? So, they don’t get the wrong ideas?” he suggested, slyly.

And there it was. The barest hint of a scowl. Was it bad that it felt like a victory? There was nothing more to say after that and Luke could only follow as the Count went to one of his ships. It was a little larger than his single fighter, as they were joined by the assistant and the former jedi traitor. The ride down was quiet. And no little amount of awkward and terrible.

Zygerria is…not beautiful. And that is Luke saying that who had found even some beauty in his home planet of Tatooine, one of near complete desert. There is something about the buildings, about the atmosphere that puts Luke on edge. He knows it is a slave planet, probably even more so than the home planet that he knows personally.

They landed near the palace, a giant building that towered above all others and stretched quite far. Krell kept a very strict eye on him as they walked through, Zygerrians in armor milling around. Dooku barely paid him any attention. He knew for a fact that Luke wouldn’t try anything.

Led into the throne room, a Zygerrian woman sat high above. The throne was rather ridiculous with a multitude of steps. Luke hoped they didn’t have to go up all of them. It would take forever.

He was kept out of the way by Dooku’s assistant as he spoke, prim and proper and nothing else. Luke could hear the distain, but it was covered quite thoroughly with flattery and demand. As he continued to speak, the besalisk traitor at his side, Luke looked around and studied the soldiers and guards, looking for weakness in both them and the building in him. He had to figure out where the troopers were.

By the time he came back to the present, most had disappeared, including Krell and many of the guards. The Queen had looked at him, her piercing eyes seeming to look straight into him. He shuttered. With a single finger – talon? – she gestured him over. Count Dooku stiffened and took a step back.

Swallowing harshly, Luke strode over.

“And who might you be?”

Luke tried not to gag and wrinkle his nose. He’d almost be anywhere but here at the moment. But he kept a great façade of delight and respect. She would get nothing from him. Her accent was grating, but that could be his bias against slave traders, which could only make him feel worse as he knows she is the queen of them. “Luke,” he introduced as he bowed. “Your grace.”

“Your majesty,” she corrected. There was a smile on her face, something faint and vaguely amused. The slight was not taken too badly, probably because of his young age and perceived naivety. But that did not mean he wouldn’t go above and beyond with his excuses.

“A thousand apologies, your majesty,” Luke amended, as he laid it on thick after the slight as he gave a bow. It was stiff and just deep enough to not continue the disrespect. He was holding himself so tense he thought he might just snap in half. “I cannot claim to have had the privilege of visiting, your lovely planet before.”

“It is a good thing you are here, now, isn’t it, child?” she giggled, light and faint. It was the perfect sound coming from a queen, but he just could not stand it; he couldn’t even stand the sight of her, much less the sound of her voice. “Even if you are a Republic agent.”

Luke just smiled, keeping his voice level and calm, just like Ben had taught him. Don’t show anything aside from what they want to know. “I fight with the troopers, that is all there is to it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was fighting alongside the clone troopers, even if it had just been one battle.

“Perhaps we can persuade you otherwise.”

“I am a mere prisoner of Serenno’s count,” he admitted with his smile continuing to be a bit tight and tense. He had to think of something and fast. These people thought of power and money and little else. Contracts, contracts. “Loyalty cannot be bought over once a contract is sighed.”

Count Dooku raised an eyebrow.

He thought Luke slipped up, the teenager realized. Gave him information that he could use. Perhaps he did. But Luke thought about that, even as he made up his words, he wouldn’t find anything. There was nothing Dooku could get out of it, unless he tried to torture it out of Luke. There was no paper trail to find or follow. It was a contract to himself, to the Force, to Ben. A vow. Luke’s loyalty was to not be swayed.

“A child with honor,” she mused with a smirk. She found that amusing, he could tell. He hated the way she said it, like it was something pathetic and stupid, juvenile. “How intriguing. Would you like to join us for dinner? The talk may be dreadfully boring, but the food will be rather delightful.”

“I relish the opportunity to expand my palette,” he replied as he straightened his back. He kept his eyes just barely below her line of sight. And there was at least some truth to that. He did like trying new foods. “I am to go wherever the Count wills at this time.”

“Count?” The Queen questioned as her gaze swept over towards the Sith several meters behind and to the right of him. Luke glanced back at him with something in his eye that could only be interpreted as impish, like Luke was up to something. The Count’s back was absolutely straight, and his expression gave away absolutely nothing.

“He will be in attendance, your majesty.”

“Excellent,” she practically purred. “I look forward to it.”

Luke didn’t. In fact, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be attending at all.

*

Count Dooku tossed him in a room, gave him some instructions and notifications and then left. Luke just sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the Count wanted from him. It didn’t take long, however, for Luke to find a way out of the room and take it he did.

The palace itself was difficult to navigate, but first things first. He reached out in the Force. What he was looking for was something he knew well, something that sang to him, which made it easier to follow. Ben had taught him long ago how to use the Force to keep others’ attention away from him and although he still used it, he also physically tried to keep out of sight of the guards and soldiers.

He found it in a room, possibly Dooku’s guest room, possibly not. It was hard to tell. Luke was just glad that the Count didn’t have it on him. No, Ben’s lightsaber was sitting on a dresser in the room, next to some paperwork. Grabbing the light saber of his guardian, he shoved it deep into his robes, out of sight and paused, before grabbing the paper too. Perhaps it would be helpful in some way. Then he slipped out of the door. Going back down the hall, the voice he heard…he would never forget it. He had never heard the Sith’s voice before, not in his time, but he knows it. And for the first time, he just cannot move.

“Long has Sith empires been built on the backs of slaves,” a man drawled. Luke swallowed and glanced around the corner through the door, just barely. He quickly spun back, so he was not to be seen. He was wearing a cloak in the holo call, something wrinkly and old underneath it. “To carry on this tradition…we will require… millions.”

He was talking about slaves. Slaves.

Luke had seen firsthand how the Sith’s plans had come to fruition. He would not let it happen this time. Not when he was around, armed with the knowledge to stop it. Whether or not he had the ability, it didn’t matter. He had to try.

“I assure the Queen’s defiance will not sour your plans,” Dooku assured.

The Sith practically scoffed. “If she fails to see the error of her ways, end her rule.”

Luke didn’t wait a moment further. He quickly ran off, trying to keep his noise to an absolute minimum. He held his breath in until he got a plenty amount of way, he let it out, nearly hyperventilating. Because he got the breath out, he had a hard time getting it back in. It took him several minutes to recatch his breath. He stood up with the help of the wall.

“I don’t think you are supposed to be out here, kiddo,” a female voice called out from behind him, and Luke turned around to face her, keeping himself slower and calm to not bring up any more suspicion. She was leaning causally against the wall, by a corner, appearing fairly unperturbed with a smirk stretching her lips. Short hair, a jumpsuit, some necklace that dipped underneath the first layer of her clothes.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, rearranging his posture to make it seem like he wasn’t caught off guard, that he was supposed to be there. It didn’t really work.

“Smooth,” she chuckled as she shook her head. “I can’t imagine the Separatists or their allies willingly letting a jedi roam around,” she pointed out.

A gamble.

“I am not a jedi.”

She looked curious and unconvinced, but still amused. “Right,” she drawled as she stood up from the lean against the wall. She took a step towards him, and it took everything he had not to step back. “I’m actually here for you.”

“Oh?”

“You wanted an update on your troopers.”

Luke perked; he couldn’t help it. It may have given him away, but she appeared to know about him anyways. “Dooku sent you?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. Not really.”

“Are you going to snitch on me?” he asked, warily.

She cackled in a short laugh, like she found that concept absolutely hilarious. There was more to her than met the eye. He wondered who she was, and, if he had an ally in her. “Nah kid. Let’s go to your room to talk though.”

“I can’t see them?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?” he asked, suspicious and anger bristling in his shoulders. He was frustrated. It had been near over a day since he had been able to see the troopers and he wanted to know if they were alright. That Dooku hadn’t done something horrible to them the moment his back had been forced to turn. He was trying to keep them alive, and it was incredibly discouraging, and infuriating being blocked at every turn.

She sighed and gestured down the hall for him to follow her. “Come on.”

Grudgingly, he followed her. He didn’t have much of a choice. He may not have liked it but there was little he could do. She kept walking and he just tried to study her. The more time passed on, the more Luke was convinced he knew her.

“You aren’t one of Dooku’s people.”

“Nope.”

“You aren’t a Zygerrian.”

“What gave it away?” she chuckled.

He snorted. “Who are you?”

“Zora.”

“Any last name to that?”

She shot him a grin. “Does it really matter?”

He huffed, pushing down the growing irritation. For this, for what was happening, for Dooku and Krell and all the things he was going through. Things he could not yet change. “Maybe. You aren’t a Zygerrian or one of Dooku’s people so who are you?”

“I told you. Zora.”

He sighed, exasperated.

She surprised him with her next question. “Are you from the 501st or the 212th?”

“What?”

“You have 501stand 212th troopers with you,” she noted.

“How…?”

“Which one is yours?”

“Neither?”

“Whose padawan are you?”

“Spy or jedi?”

She startled, but just barely. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t been taught by Ben, who was very good at picking up cues of possible allies and possible enemies. “Be careful kid. Accusations like that can get you or anyone else, killed.”

Luke rolled his eyes as they got back to his room. As if he didn’t know that. But this, he was sick of not getting answers out of anyone. She started to look around, hands running along the walls and table. He stayed silent.

Zora, on the other hand, had no such inclinations. “So, ah…you didn’t answer my question. Whose padawan are you?” she asked, glancing over at him with a knowing smirk.

“Do I looklike I have any semblance of a padawan braid?” he grumbled, resentfully. He couldn’t quite help it. It was easier to not be, at least when Ben was around and teaching him and just being there. Even if he wasn’t actually Ben’s padawan, it was hard not to be upset about it. It’s what he wanted so much, for so long. He didn’t dare think of the possibilities, being in this time with the Order around.

“Oooohhh,” Zora smirked again, her eyebrows waggling in knowing. She didn’t understand, obviously, because no one really could. Not with his situation, really, but there was something about her that was different. Luke had to know her from somewhere. Somehow. “Someone is a little bitter. Left, kicked out or not chosen?” she asked, continuing to go through the room, opening drawer and checking the things inside.

He stiffened, still standing in the middle of the room, his gaze hardening. “I never really had a chance.” That was truth, not that she could get what he was saying. There was no jedi where he is from. Or rather, when. Hunted and killed off for having an ability with the Force. For trying to help people. All because two beings wanted everything, put what they wanted above millions and trillions of lives.

“Ooookkkkaaayyyy,” she drawled out again but something in her face sobered up. He fought himself, trying to go through all of Ben’s stories on who this could possibly be. It had to be someone Ben told him about. That was the only explanation. “What are you doing with those troopers?”

“Fighting.”

“Not a jedi, not a clone. Too young to be an officer. Who are you?”

“Luke.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m Luke.”

“You can’t be that dense,” she muttered and then stopped trifling through the room but there was a smirk. She saw what he was doing. Throwing her answers back in her face with his own, mirroring it. “Okay, we are clean.”

“Clean? We?”

“There aren’t any bugs or cameras,” she supplied and walked closer, pulling up a chair and sitting down. She gestured for him to do the same. He paused but obeyed, sitting in front of her so he could study her features, trying to figure out what he wanted to know. “So that means we can speak freely, although admittedly, still a bit quiet and careful. Who are you?”

“Luke.”

She groaned and sighed, leaning on the back of her chair. She was projecting some kind of mix of amusement and irritation. “Come on kid. Give me something to work with!”

“Are you a spy or jedi?”

She looked back at him, surprised. “What?”

“Spy or jedi?”

“What makes you think-,” she started but after a moment she just sighed again. She ran a hand through her short hair, glancing around, as if worried. Even though she had checked the room for listening devices and cameras, she was still a bit paranoid. “Both, I suppose.”

“A shadow,” he supplied with his guess. Ben had told him plenty about them, several of his friends and acquaintances went that route. “That narrows it down.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It did. If she knew Ben, he could figure out who she was.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“But you know me.”

“Not exactly. I might know of you. I’m not sure,” he admitted, truthfully.

“Well, you aren’t giving your identity and I’m not ready to give up mine so we can skip that for now. Why were you sneaking around? You weren’t escaping and if anyone caught you…big trouble. What was worth the risk?” She was curious, for certain, trying to discern something from him.

He hesitated and produced Ben’s light saber hidden deep in his robes.

She gasped but immediately tried to stifle it. He knew, she knew. “That’s…”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber, yes,” he said, his mouth now dry so his voice came out in some of a bit of a croak. Zora looked between him and the saber multiple times, trying to keep her eyes from widening so much.

“How did you get that?” she hissed with vigor. Luke blinked; he wasn’t exactly expecting that. “How did get Dooku get this? Is he…” she trailed off, uncertain. She couldn’t ask the question.

“He’s not here,” Luke replied, and he was silently so thankful that he wasn’t. On one hand, he could definitely use Ben’s help. He could just use him around. But, Luke didn’t know what state he was in and he certainly did not want Count Dooku to take any type of advantage of his guardian. “And he’s not dead as far as I know. He should be on his own ship, safe.”

“But his saber…” she murmured.

“It’s a long story,” he replied instead. Really, he just didn’t want to explain it. He had suspicions about who she was, but he couldn’t be sure yet, he had to wait and think. There was something about her voice, how she spoke when she saw Ben’s saber…. He shook his head. “You said something about my troopers?”

She glanced at him with renewed skepticism. Probably not the right terms, he thought. He wasn’t technically part of either group. “Well, they are all alive and unharmed,” she said bringing out a clunky comm and laid it in his hand. “Two number comm, direct line. You can’t see them, so you’ll have to take it on word that they are not injured.”

He nodded and swallowed, dialing.

They picked up a little slow.

Luke’s anxiety spiked. “H-Hello?”

A pause.

“Waxer? Are you there?”

Finally, finally. “Thank everything that is good, you are alive kid.” It was Waxer’s voice; Luke could identify it. He had paid so much attention to his voice since he had met him, Luke thought he could very possibly pick him out of a group of anyone. Identical faces or voices or not. Whatever, it didn’t matter. He had made a point to know his voice as best he could. Boil’s best friend.

“Waxer,” Luke sighed in relief as he realized with a fond smile. He almost felt like he was going to start crying from relief. He had near thought he would never be able to get to even just talk to them again. “I’m okay,” he promised. “Dooku talked with me, nothing too bad, and then locked me in a room by myself. I’m on Zygerria now.” He didn’t tell him about the Krell rematch; there was no reason to worry them.

“So are we,” another voice made its way through. Gruffer, more solid.

“Rex,” Luke said as he took a moment to put his finger on the voice. “Is everyone there? Are you alright? Dooku didn’t harm you, did he?”

“Dooku didn’t do anything,” Rex vowed.

“Can we do a roll call?”

“Uh…kiddo, we sound all the same,” someone chuckled, uneasily.

“Er… not exactly…” Luke admitted with a smile, but he felt a bit uncomfortable with the line of talk and conversation. “I can tell. I promise. “Please?”

“I’m here, as you know,” Waxer said, his voice kind and soft. Luke relished in the feeling, and he thought he would never get used to the intonation. He completely understood why this person was Boil’s best friend.

“And you heard me, Rex,” the captain replied.

“Yes,” Luke nodded.

“Boys?” Rex called, a bit quiet, like he was further away from the comm.

“Checkerboard reporting, sir.”

“Fives,” another grumbled.

“Jesse.”

“Tup,” his voice was a tad bit timid.

“Okay,” Luke sighed again in relief. That was all of them, that was all of them. That was a good to have that reassurance. “Okay. Good. Good.”

“How…how are you talking to us, Luke? Who is listening?”

“No worries,” Luke said, quickly, shooting a glance at his companion. “Just a jedi shadow. We are okay. Look,” he started, suppressing a wince at his lack of a current workable plan. “I’m trying to work on a plan to get us out of here. Since we are on planet and not in space, it might be easier.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“I’m no explosives expert,” he hummed in admittance. “But with the things I can scrounge up here, I think I can make a distraction. A pretty big distraction.”

“I like the way you’re thinking, sir,” Jesse replied, and Luke knew he was grinning. He rolled his eyes.

“Zygerria is a slave planet,” Rex replied, his voice slow and careful. “We won’t find any allies here or a way to get off the planet, easily.”

“The Republic is coming,” Luke vowed. And he knew it.

“How do you know?”

“I passed intel to the Council,” Zora leaned in so her voice would come through. “They know about Dooku, and they know that you are here too,” Zora explained. “They should be on their way here. A day, tops.”

“Even if they have both the 501st and the 212th at full strength, I don’t think they can take a planet like this,” the voice, Rex, he was pretty sure, sounded unsure, probably in turn of the unknown newcomer.

Luke swallowed. “Ben has been through this before. He knows.”

“What?” Fives startled.

“Ben?” Zora muttered, questioningly.

“Luke, General Kenobi is in a coma,” Waxer pointed out, gentle and patient.

Zora startled, sudden and she stared at him, eyes wider than he had seen anyone. She was shocked, worried. She knew him, she knew Ben. Which meant that Luke knew him. He must have heard of her from Ben’s stories. That makes her identity easier to determine. “What?” she whispered. “Obi…”

Luke tried to ignore her for now. He didn’t have the time to confront her or anything right now. He had to focus on the troopers and their escape. “He will come. I know it. I have faith in the Force, and I have faith in him.”

There was pause of silence and a sigh.

“Okay. I get you. Me too, I have faith in General Kenobi,” Waxer replied.

“And I’m not sure how much information Master Vos got from Ben with his psychometry,” Luke added. “But that might help too.”

“Psycho…?”

“Obnoxiously Long Explanations. They can come later,” Luke vowed, waving his hand. “Suffice to say, he will come.”

“Alright,” Rex said. “I believe you.”

“We do,” Tup added.

There was a scowl.

“You are hiding things.” Luke couldn’t quite make out the name of the clone for a long moment, but he went through what he knew about all of them and finally came to conclusion. The speaker had been Fives. Curious, intelligent, persistent and stubborn.

“If we make it out of this alive, I will tell you all you want to know, Fives,” Luke vowed, absolutely serious. Hopefully they would survive this. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about telling any of the 501st about what was happening, especially those close to Anakin Skywalker, but it was a price he could pay for their trust and cooperation.

Another silence and then concede. “Alright.”

*

“You didn’t tell him.”

Waxer didn’t know who spoke but there was an accusatory undertone. It was noted. He didn’t look around at them, just stared at the comm. “I didn’t want him getting upset to lose focus,” Waxer tried to refute. He kept a hold of the comm that had been given to them, his fingers curling over the surface. This was such a mess.

“You think that would upset him so much?” That was Check, Waxer knew. The undertone of his voice was a bit touched but there was no little amount of worry coming from. Waxer wasn’t entirely sure how to explain without saying everything that he knew.

“He’s from Tatooine,” Waxer croaked.

“So?”

Rex eyed him warily. He knew something, understood something, some kind of inference he got from Waxer’s statement. Waxer felt his heart speed up a little. He knew that Luke didn’t want others to know right now what was happening, he had made a note to keep it from the 501st. Waxer wasn’t entirely sure why, but he had quickly learned he could trust Luke. But Rex knew something, and Waxer couldn’t help but be worried on how much he would have figured out. It wasn’t all too surprising; Rex was smart and Cody loved him. “It is a slave planet,” Rex noted.

“Was he…”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Waxer responded quickly, staring at Rex directly in the eye. They kept eye contact for some time. “But Luke joined the battle on Umbara in an attempt to keep me alive. He had never been in a battle or war like that before, but he just jumped in. What do you think he would do if he found out about us now, in the situation we are facing?”

“He can’t care that much,” someone said. Waxer was still staring at Rex, so he wasn’t entirely sure who had responded to him. The skepticism was clear, but Waxer knew better. He knew how Luke talked about them, all excited. He knew the way he had ran and jumped and practically tackled Boil when he saw them on their ship, so happy and so excited to see him again. Waxer had little trouble realizing how much Luke loved in general. How much Luke cared about them already.

“Trust me. He does,” Waxer finally pulled his eyes away from Rex and sat down on the ground, his armor creaking. He imagined they would soon be taken to a facility and have the armor stripped from them and he dreads that moment. The uneasy and uncomfortable feeling that comes with not wearing armor in a hostile environment is not a pleasant one.

“What does that mean?”

“Fives…” Rex warned. Waxer saw him out of the corner of his eye. The captain’s brow furrowed

“I am sick of all the cryptic words and lies!” Fives pressed. “He knows something, and it makes me think, you know about it too, Captain.”

Rex swallowed. “I don’t know much.”

“But you know something.”

“Luke said he would tell you everything you want to know later,” Waxer said.

“Why can’t you just tell us now!?”

“You really think this is the best place for secrets?”

Every one of them snapped their mouths shut when the door opened and several Zygerrians came in, including the one that had technically bought them. It took a while, as the troopers weren’t the most compliant, but the Zygerrians did force them out of the room and into another. Waxer had a bad feeling about this.

“I hear you have secrets,” one of them said in a heavy accent.

“Our allies will pay well for Republic secrets,” another hissed.

Oh kriff.

*

“I think I know who you are.”

The words came out of Luke’s mouth before his mind had caught up with him. He and Zora had collected a few things for their rather, a bit explosive, plan and were scurrying around the halls, to enact it. They hadn’t talked much about other things aside from said plan during the time, but Luke was having a hard time keeping quiet. He just had to know.

“Oh?” Zora asked, rather amused. “Funny, I am pretty sure I don’t know you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he shrugged. “It is a rather long story. But Ben has told me a lot about many of his friends.”

“Ben as in…Obi-Wan…” she said slowly. She carefully placed an explosive near a column, out of sight. It would be hard to find it before it would be detonated. They had to be careful. Once it was done, they momentarily hid, away from a coming patrol of guards.

“Yes,” Luke whispered an affirmation.

“How do you know him?”

“Obnoxiously Long Explanation.”

“I heard you tell one of the clones that,” she noted. “What does that mean?”

“Just as it says. It’s kind of a game that Ben and I have played,” Luke explained, vaguely but there was a fond smile on his lips as he thought about all the times he had gone through that with Ben. Zora had obviously noticed.

“I didn’t know Obi-Wan had taken on another padawan,” she suggested.

Luke glanced away with a frown. “He didn’t,” he muttered. “Come on.” He gestured for her to follow as he moved through the halls further, tossing another small explosive in another hiding spot.

She seemed to know and understand that it was a sore spot and let it go. He knew he would not last. “You mentioned you think you know who I am,” she said, putting another of their bitty contraptions in another.

“That’s the last one,” he murmured. “The dinner should start soon. We need to figure out where the troopers are.”

“I can lead you to them,” Zora replied.

“Don’t you have to continue your mission?”

“My mission had already ended. Things had been sidetracked when the ship I was on didn’t go to the rendezvous point and was rather diverted when the Zygerrian queen sent our ship to Dooku’s. We’re good,” she explained, glancing at him with a smile. “I’ve got your back.”

Zora took the lead and started to bring him through the palace to the outside. Luke swallowed, uneasily. He knew he could trust her, but he didn’t like the feeling he got where they were hiding. They were out of the palace now, moving towards some of the other outbuildings nearby.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, after a while.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Who do you think I am.”

Luke glanced down and smiled warmly. “He talked about you, in several instances. The jumpsuits, the short hair, the warming crystal that you are wearing around your neck.”

Zora narrowed her eyes.

“Ben talked about you. He carried the crystal on him for a long time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you,” he shot her another grin, practically beaming. “I am very happy to be able to meet you. A lot more excited than I am allowed to be and show right now. You are just as amazing and snarky as Ben said, Siri Tachi.”

*

Luke had nearly fallen over when he felt it. He had reached out into the Force, for the troopers, just as an assurance. He had been met with pain. His head had turned and stared at his companion, wide-eyed and fearful. Her mouth was moving, probably questions. He didn’t hear them. Instead, he just started to run.

They were hurting. They were hurting. They were hurting. Someone was hurting them. All he had wanted to do was get them through this. He just wanted to get them through this. How could he possibly failing so much so hard?

Fail. Fail. Fail.

He failed so spectacularly.

Getting into the small building was easy. Many guards were at the dinner for the Queen and the Count, well, guarding them. But Luke ran through without care, knocking any guard they came across, at the very least, unconscious. His heart had completely dropped when he had stepped inside. Because he knew what this place was, right when he saw the people that inhabited it.

A slaves’ quarters.

Not just that, a temporary one. Ones who were being sent off to auction.

“Free them!” he yelled.

His companion knew what he meant and immediately went to unlock the cages, using the force to take off the collars. Luke kept running. The urgency, the urgency, he had to move. Slamming open one of the doors – oh, they felt so close! – he had bowled over one of the Zygerrians, whipping out his saber and taking several limbs off of several more. They stood little chance. His shoulder and arm was burning like nothing before and it felt like he couldn’t quite breathe.

He didn’t stop until they were all on the floor, dead or unconscious.

“Hey, Luke you, okay?”

That was Waxer’s voice. Luke nearly wanted to cry. He didn’t want to look at them, at the damage done. He didn’t know if he said anything, but Waxer continued.

“We are okay, kiddo,” he kept going. “A few light electrical burns and some bruises, but nothing serious. I promise.”

Luke could still hear the yelling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, going through exercises and jedi mantra. He did this for several moments before he finally got the courage to glance up at them. All six of them, on their feet without aid. Waxer hadn’t been lying but that didn’t make things hurt any less.

Because he saw what was on their necks.

He had seen them before. On Tatooine when Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru had dared to bring him into town during their errands. On several backwater planets, controlled by Hutts or slavers or the scum of the galaxy, he and Ben had to stop at. He had nearly seen one on his own neck once. He had, however briefly, had seen one on Ben’s.

No, Luke would not fall.

But perhaps they would wish that was all he did.

“Dooku should die for this,” Luke croaked out as he stared at them. His vision was blurry. Tears, again, he suspected.

There was some talking. Luke didn’t hear it. All he heard was the crunching of the collars that were on their necks, falling off as Luke clenched with both his fist and in the force. Someone was holding his hand. He didn’t know who it was.

“So, what are we doing? It’s up to you, Luke,” someone was talking. Luke couldn’t tell who it was, perhaps he wasn’t listening hard enough. He wasn’t paying attention much. “Are we going to try our hand at escape? Or are we making an attempt on the Count’s life?”

[howdoyousleep3]

do all of your bucky’s have sensitive nips? i canNOT stop thinking of daddy james with sensitive nipples ���

Thanks to Lynne and that cross-universe bit she wrote about my Steves meeting my Bucky/James (the iconic “be careful with him, Stevie--he’s littler than you...”) I am all about it. Before that bit I hadn’t thought about it much but hell yes. I feel like James is very reserved, especially at first with Steve, (hence why he goes by James and not Bucky right off the bat). He’s not as open like Daddy Steve is so he isn’t as inclined to tell Stevie to rub at his nipples at any given time. 

I bet Steve is a little sly boy though and picks up on the hitches of breath that Daddy doesn’t realize he lets out when he’s pressed up against Steve’s chest or when Steve’s fingers dig into his chest. He tests out a theory one night when his mouth is full of Daddy cock and when his two hands aren't busy working James’ over. He’d distractedly hum around James hungrily, would let his hands wander up and under Daddy’s shirt. Steve would rub at his stomach and bob his head enthusiastically and reach up a tad further and get a thumb and forefingers on each nipple and--

Daddy would come. 

He’d come with a shout and a frazzled reach for Steve’s hair, would thrash and react in a frantic way that Steve has never experienced before. He’d damn near growl through his entire orgasm, Steve sputtering and held down by that hand in his hair but he’d be so damn proud of himself. He struck gold. 

I have this image in my head of James slowly allowing himself to let Steve touch him in a such a way, to let himself be so vulnerable with his boy, especially after they make things official. 

They’re all dressed to the nines at a benefit that James attends only because he has to (Nat’s threat of death is nothing to be toyed with) but with Steve on his arm it is tolerable. James always manages to look a little bored and a lot intimidating and Steve is almost more drunk on that than he is the seemingly endless number of Rum and Cokes he lets himself indulge in. 

Someone not as important as Daddy is at a podium speaking when Steve gives into the urge to lean over and kiss at James’ cheek, to let those kisses trail to his ear. And Daddy lets him, right here in front of all of these people he lets Steve suck on his earlobe and nibble on his neck, even encourages it with a squeeze to the top of Steve’s thigh and then--

Daddy grabs at his dick right there under the table. 

Steve gets one whimper directly into James’ ear before he’s being yanked from his chair and shuffled into the hallway with a tight grip on his arm. Being pressed against a hallway wall and kissed breathless by this mountain of a man that is his Daddy is not anything Steve could have imagined happening tonight but he’s tickled. 

James’ mouth plunders his own, hot and purposeful, wet and hungry. There’s not even enough space between them or Steve and the wall that, when he goes to lean his head back to gasp for air, it’s already there. When he tears his head to the side with a heave of a breath James follows him with a sticky sweet noise, teeth digging into the hinge of his jaw. 

Daddy’s whispering filthy fucking words into his ear when Steve runs his hands up Daddy’s chest, goes right for his nipples over his dress shirt, rubs and plucks over the fabric. 

James growls. 

“Don’t fuckin’ start somethin’ you can’t finish, sweetheart,” Daddy warns in a voice that makes a thrill roll up Steve’s spine, makes his dick chub up in the panties Daddy picked out for him. It also makes his fingers swirl in tight little circles with a giggle of his own, a bratty one. His mouth finds Daddy’s again, seeks it out, open and hungry and after an exchange of tongues Steve challenges, “Who says I’m not gonna finish it...?” 

And then he pinches at James’ nipples, tight, sucks on his bottom lip as the older man groans through his teeth. He knows Daddy’s weakness now and is going to fucking use it to get fucked in a bathroom at a benefit his Daddy is the most important person at, you better believe it. 

So...long random drawn out headcannon later...

Yes, all Bucky’s have sensitive nips lmao.

[8sharkie-bites8]

Do you take requests, cause I want to see a fanfic of a Dodo x Remi fanfic please!

Oh, sure!☺ Been a while since I wrote something actually. I can definitely do that!

>----------------------------------<

Remi was always proud of Sayu and her legacy. Sayu... Sayu is his magnanimous. He loves his work and his team's work with all he has... Howeverrrr... In the aftermath of the Rock Revolution-courtesy of B2J- more and more genres have been on the market.

Dispite still topping the charts... There was a notable decrease in giggs... Leaving more free-time for the Sayu Crew. And... Remi wasn't sure how to feel about it... While before he would spend his days brainstorming new ideas and designs for the next concert they had. But now... Now there were just days when they didn't have to prepare every day...

Now here were days when all Remi could think of doing is sitting in his room just doodling and eating snacks until he got called out for dinner... It was quiet. Too quiet for him... And he wanted things normal again... Usually on days like that, the others were out doing their own thing... Remi was never all that sure what, but it was something.

Soooo where suddenly his bedroom door opens up and he sees someone standing in the doorway, he's kinda freaked out. Luckily though, his frightened squeak was met with a familiar chuckle. "Calm down dude. It's only me..." His tall blue friend smiled calmly and walked closer to Remi and his desk. Remi sighed lightly.

"Just you... Jeez Dodo, at least... I-I dunno, knock or something!" Remi sighed and popped a gummie snack into his mouth. Dodo just chuckled. "Heh, sorry Remi. Guess I just wasn't thinking... Say, what cha drawing?" He asked and leaned over Remi's shoulder to get a look at his art tablet. "Is it Sayu?" "Mm-" Remi's cheeks got a little tinted and he gently nudged the taller boy away.

"Yeah... It is... Just something to pass the time ya know..?" Dodo smiled and pulled up a bean bag chair. "Cool. Your art is super pretty." "Mm.... Thanks..... Hey, Dodo?" Remi set his pen down and turned to looked at him. "W... Why are you still here? You... Normally aren't around the apartment this time of day..." He asked and rubbed the back of his neck. Dodo just shrugged.

"Eh. I usually hang around in Metro district, buuut they're preparing for a big 1010 show tomorrow night soooo..." "Ah..." Remi mumbled and knodded. "So that's what you do all day..." "Yea... And you Remi?" Dodo smiled and looked up to him. "I've hardly seen you leave recently... I'm kinda... Kinda worried actually... You doing ok?" "H-huh?" Remi was... Slightly surprised.

"W-worried?.. Mm... I-I'm fine dude- Really! Just... Guess I... I really don't know what else... What else I can do..." He murmured and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. Dodo knodded. "Still kinda adjusting huh?.. Hey- How about this." He said and stood up. "You and I can go hang out. Go to a cafe, go shopping, whatever you want! Just to get out of the house... What do you say?" Dodo smiled and extended a hand to Remi.

Remi felt his cheeks heat up a little, but slowly... He went and took his hand. "A..... Alright... Let's... Let's go..." Dodo smiled and lead the way. "That's the spirit. C'mon, I know a bubble tea place over by Cast-Tech. I think you'll like it." He kept talking for a little, menwhile Remi looked down to their hands... It was a warm and pleasant feeling. Although... Hard to tell if it came from their hands... Or just Remi's chest. Either way... Remi smiled and gently squeezed Dodo's hand as they kept walking.

>----------------------------------<

A couple hours later, sun was setting and the duo were returning home with shopping bags in arms. It had been a pretty good day today. Went to a cafe, walked around the city, and did some light shopping for snacks and drinks. It was nice for Remi... It really had been a while since he'd gone out and done something like this... And he's honestly really glad Dodo brought him out to do so.

Once home, Dodo went and started putting stuff away in the kitchen area while Remi plopped himself on the couch. "Mm.... H-hey Dodo... You wanna watch a movie or something?" "Hm?" Dodo looked over, slightly surprised. "You... Wanna watch a movie with me?.. I kinda figured you'd just be heading right back to your room when we got back..." He mumbled and walked up to Remi. "Huh? O-oh... Well uh... I-I guess I can j-just-"

Remi attempted to stand, but Dodo put his hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back down. "Nope." "E-eh-?!" Remi squeaked and blushed faintly. Dodo just chuckled. "We're watching a movie. No going anywhere now." Dodo smiled and gently ruffled his hair. "Pick something out. I'll get snacks." Remi looked up at him his face reddening. After a moment he looked away and adjusted his glasses. "Mm- A.. Alright then- I'll... I'll do just that."

Dodo smiled and walked back to the kitchen for snacks. Remi took a moment, kinda frazzled, took the remote and started looking through movies. While he did so, Dodo would come in and out of the room with treats ; mini kit-kats, meiji apallo, ramune candies, hello panda, just the works. Remi soon decided on Ponyo, then looked down at the coffee table. "W-wow!... Uh... L-looks like we're set..."

"Noooot yet my friend." Dodo smiled and came back with some drink bottles. Remi looked at them for a moment, taking a second before realizing what they were. When he did, his eyes lit up. "Mogu mogu!" He smiled. "Aww man! I thought Tila drank the last one!" "Oh, she did." Dodo said. "Buuut since it's a favorite of yours, I snagged a couple for you." Remi smiled and took one. "Lychee flavored too? Aw man, you're the best Dodo!"

"Eh. I try..." Dodo smiled and sat beside Remi. "Anyway... You got the movie?" "Yep yep!" Remi grinned and started movie. "It's Ponyo!" "Ah. A Ghibly movie then... You really like these hm?" "Of course!" Remi smiled brightly. "I love everything about Ghibly movies! The stories, the characters, the ART! Oh I could go on forever about how much I love the art alone~"... And go on forever he did. Or, it felt like it at least. It wasn't until the movie was half way through when he finished up talking.

"-Ponyo is just my favorite though- for... Obvious reasons- BUT Totoro is... Definitely my..." Remi looked up to Dodo, only to see him with a glazed over look in his eyes, a small smile, and... Light pink cheeks. He was watching Remi... But didn't look to be listening... "... You ok dude?" He asked, making Dodo squeak, coming back to reality. "O-oh, uh... Sorry dude..." He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Mm... Is Something the matter? You..."

Dodo just looked at him, then chuckled. "Don't worry Remi. You just... Distracted me." He smiled and ruffled Remi's hair. Remi was... A tad confused. "I... Distracted y-you...?" "Well... Yeah." Dodo smiled and gently cupped his cheek. "Mm... Whenever... Whenever you start talking about art stuff... You always get a lil glint in your eyes... And it's honestly the most adoroble thing ever..." He blushed and chuckled

Remi went red and started stuttering. "Eh?.. I-I... You... Y-you... Th..." Dodo listened, then chuckled. "Mm... Why wouldn't I?" He asked and gently hugged him. "Who wouldn't find you adorable? You're so small with just the sweetest smile..." He gently cupped Remi's cheeks. The two boys were... Rather close at the moment... "U-um..." Remi squeaked out, bright red. Dodo just looked at him and smiled. "Mm... See what I told you?" He said and slowly leaned closer.

Their noses close to touching... Remi could hear his heart pound in his chest and his face was burning up. "You're... Adorable..." Dodo said, looking at the shorter boy. His cheeks a lovely color of pink... The two slowly came closer and closer... Until...

"Hey guys!" The door slammed open as Tila returned home. "GHA-" Remi squeaked, startled, and fell backwards off the couch with a thud. "O-ow..." "Ngh- R-Remi!" Dodo squeaked. "Hey guys." Tila set her bag at the doorway and walked up to the livingroom. "Hm? Woah... You ok? You guys look startled... And... Red. Hey are you both sick?" "Mm- u-uh..." Remi was still bright red and nervous. "Um... U-uhh.... I... Mm!" He squeaked and stood up, nervously running to his room and slamming his door.

"R-Remi! Wait-... Damit!" Dodo groaned and slapped a hand on his face. "Remi..." "... Well..." Tila rubbed her neck. "That was... Weird... Whaaat was-" "Tila, hush... Just hush..." He sighed and walked off. Remi menwhile sat on his bedroom floor, fanning his face with his hands. "O-oh god. Did... Did that just... Happen? We could've... Gha- damiiiiit!" He squeaked and hid his face in his hands."Mm... J-just calm down just calm down... S-stop thinking for two seconds and just... Calm... Down-" And a knock had come.

"GH-!" Remi jolted away from the door. "S-sorry-" Dodo spoke from the other side. "I'm sorry... Didn't mean to scare you..." "... Mm...." Remi sighedand leaned against the door. "I-it's ok dude... I... I just need a minuet to calm down. I... I'm feeling a little frazzled so..." Dodo sighed and knodded. "Alright alright, I get it... Well... Sofa will probably be back soon too and... Then we can order dinner... Want me to call you then?" "Mm... Y-yeah..." Remi murmured and smiled faintly. "T-thanks..."

"Heh... No worries Remi." Dodo said and started walking away, but stoppedin his tracks. "Oh! Nearly forgot!" He smiled and turned back to the door. "Tomorrow, I have somewhere I wanna take you. A cafe on the edge of Akusuka and Natura. I think you'd like it... What do you say?" "Mm? O-oh uh... S-sure! I-I'd love to..." He mumbled and smiled. Dodo chuckled and started walking off. "Great! Well then... See ya at dinner dude." "Mm... Y.. Yeah..." Remi mumbled and smiled.

Once he knew Dodo had gone, Remi went to his bed and laid down with a tired but happy sigh. He put his hands on his cheeks and felt them heat up again. "Mm... W-well... I guess that wasn't too terrible... Frigen Tila." The boy mumbled and hugged a pillow "... W-was he always so... Charming and sweet and stuff..?" Remi mumbled and giggled a bit. "Mm... We were... So so close... Maybe we could've... Mmnmnf-" Remi blushed brighter at the thought and burried his face into thr pillow. "Mm- c-calm down! Mm... I think to muuch...." He groaned and laid down, flustered.. But happy. "Mm... W-well... We still have tomorrows... D-date."

>----------------------------------<

Okie dokie! Sorry if it ain't great (especially that ending) but, it was fun! Merry Christmas and happy new-year peeps