#this took an embarrassingly long time to write out i hope that my vision is somewhat clear

[crescent-witch]

season of the witch

ship: soft!dark!wanda x reader x dark-ish!kate

summary: wanda gets kate every birthday present she could possibly ever think of, including you.

warnings: kidnapping, dub-con/non-con, degradation, praise, dark!dom!wanda, switch!kate, sub!reader, light pet play, pet names, magical restraints, magic use, manipulation via wanda’s magic, magic strap, magic cum, tentacle strap, mommy kink, magic gag ig | MINORS DNI

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this fic is so self indulgent im sorry 💀 this took my an embarrassingly long time to write

The smell of something cooking is what woke you from your heavy sleep. The smell was rich and heady. A stew, you hoped, as the aroma both made your stomach growl and your head dizzy while you struggled to fully open your eyes.

The world was a blur of colours and shapes, nothing going into focus as you tried to make out where you were. You noted that you could make out a lot of green, and brown. Perhaps somewhere in the forest, you thought, attempting to smell flowers or damp soil, anything past whatever was cooking nearby.

You groaned as your head lulled back, the dull ache fading but still present as you screwed your eyes shut, blocking out whatever dream you seemed to be having. You tried to lift your arms from the armrests of the chair you were sitting in to rub at your eyes, but they refused to budge, tied down by some kind of rope or strap. You didn’t have to try and move your feet to guess that they were the same.

The sound of heavy footsteps is what caused you to quickly open your eyes again, head shooting up as your vision suddenly cleared.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” A soft voice cheered, and you turned your head to the sound. The breath was knocked from your lungs when you saw the redhead standing before you. The woman’s face was framed with bright red hair, draping down to her waist in a stark contrast to the black dress and boots she wore. She was unlike any woman you had seen in your small town, dark clothes and satanic symbols adorning her jewellery aside, you had never witnessed someone levitate a bowl of stew, as she was doing now.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled softly at you. “I’m Wanda.”

“Hi,” you croaked out, words failing you. It was ridiculous, you thought at that moment. This woman, who had presumably kidnapped you, was rendering you speechless with a pretty face and kind smile.

“Mm,” Wanda hummed in appreciation and admiration as her hand reached out towards you, the other still glowing with wisps of red and keeping the hot bowl afloat in the air. Her hand landed on your cheek, fingers languidly stroking your cheek as her smile shifted, twisting into something more of a smirk.

“Go on sweetheart, eat up,” she encouraged as she moved away from you, and you missed her body's warmth before the bowl of stew landed in your lap, and you would’ve winced in pain from the heat if it wasn’t for the overwhelming draft flowing through the house she had brought you to. “You need all your strength for later,” Wanda reached for the small spoon sat in the bowl and lifted the spook of the rich brown sauce to your mouth.

You didn’t question what Wanda wanted from you, just allowing yourself to lean into the comfort of her caring for you. After all, incessant questions annoyed Wanda, so she allowed her magic to deep into your mind and steer you away from them.

“Such a good girl,” Wanda crooned at you. The words snapped you out of your haze, common sense finally taking over you as you realised the situation you were in.

“I-I don’t understand,” you stuttered out, fighting against the heavy fog settling in your mind. “I want to go home.”

“Oh, no detka,” Wanda pouted. “You’re going to stay here with me. Such a precious little thing can’t be left all alone.”

You knew fighting against the fuzziness in your head was futile, but you still struggled and refused to give in. You weren’t that weak, were you? This woman had kidnapped you, for fucks sake! You were sure you could resist her stunning smile and gentle words long enough to escape.

You were, of course, terribly wrong.

Wanda could feel your mind fighting against her and she increased her magic tenfold, drowning you in thoughts of her, of staying in the little cabin for the rest of your days.

“No,” you whimpered pathetically with a small shake of your head, looking up at Wanda with pleading eyes.

“Hush, little one,” she murmured to you, running a hand through your hair and you leaned into her touch, closing your eyes as you allowed Wanda’s magic to take hold of you. “Good girl malyshka, such a well behaved girl.”

You preened under Wanda’s praise as your eyes lazily opened, swirls of scarlet an evident sign of Wanda’s magic.

You and Wanda were broken out of your trance by a loud crash coming from upstairs, followed by a “shit!” and a set of footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Wandaaa!” You heard a voice call, a second later a brunette swerved into the room, narrowly dodging a small table with a lamp on it before her eyes landed on you.

The girl’s eyes widened in shock as she spotted you, tied to one of the kitchen chairs, dopily smiling at Wanda as she fed you.

“Kate honey, please be careful. We don’t want another hospital visit, do we?” Wanda warned her, not sparing the girl, Kate, another glance as she held another spoonful of food out to you again, which you took gladly.

“Wanda..what the fuck,” Kate was well aware that the woman who had taken her under her wing wasn’t exactly the Patron Saint of Ethics. In the past two years being Wanda’s..well, Wanda’s pet, Kate had learned that the witch didn’t shy away from getting her hands a little bloody, especially for what she deemed was the greater good. Kate started off as Wanda’s mentee, until the redhead gave up on the hope of her husband, Vision, returning. And that’s when her and Kate’s relationship developed into what it was that day you were taken, one fueled by a twisted need for one another.

Wanda never loved Kate, not like that. And despite the void that Wanda and Kate filled for each other, Wanda could sense that her young apprentice was becoming lonely. And that's where she figured you could come in.

“Oh, Katie,” Wanda pouted, disappointed. “You’ve ruined your surprise! You weren't supposed to see her until your birthday.”

While Kate’s birthday was in a couple days, she didn’t expect a kidnapping to be on the agenda.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

“Watch your language,” Wanda scolded her, furrowing her eyebrows as she turned to Kate for the first time, who hung her head as a brief sense of guilt took over her.

“Sorry, mommy,” Kate whispered, still so confused and scared.

Wanda sighed as she stood up, wandering away from you as she reached out for Kate, taking Kate’s cold hands in hers.

“I thought you could use a little toy, you know, to have some fun with, take your stress out on,” Wanda smiled, happy with her plan as she moved behind Kate to rest her chin on the younger girl’s shoulder, moving her closer to you. “I know you miss being in control sometimes, puppy,” the name nearly made Kate stumble, her knees going weak. There were many things Wanda was proud of ingraining into Kate over their time together, but one of her favourite was the way she knew every corner of the archers mind, how to make her give in instantly.

It was true, Kate did sometimes long to be in control. Not of Wanda, but the brunette was slowly coming to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be fully content to just sub for Wanda, no matter how much she denied it at first. But she had no clue Wanda would go this far.

“Go on, say hello,” Wanda encouraged Kate, grinning as she stumbled towards you. Kate’s toe caught the edge of a loose floorboard, sending her tumbling towards you. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, not looking where they landed. Kate prayed for the ground to swallow her up whole as she looked at her hands, one planted firmly just above your breast and the other gripping the arm of the chair. If you weren’t already trapped in the chair, you would be with Kate towering over you, her face inches away from yours.

“Oh, god…” Kate groaned, a blush staining her cheeks as she quickly removed her hands, looking down in embarrassment as she shuffled away from you.

“Aww, look at your little slut, Katie,” Wanda giggled happily, turning Kate’s chin up to see you. Kate nearly whined when she saw you in a similar state, blush spreading down to your neck as you struggled to not react to the ghost of the handprint left behind. “She loved it.”

Short-lived confidence taking over Kate, she moved towards you again, her movements more predatory as her boots thumped against the hardwood with every step. She tilted your chin up to look her in the eyes, and you desperately tried not to whimper at her hungry gaze.

You knew it was wrong, so completely wrong. These two women, strangers, taking control over your entire being. But you couldn’t stop it. Wanda’s magic had taken hold of you, wrapping around your mind and soul like vines, growing and poisoning, consuming you. And you didn’t want them to ever stop.

“She’s so pretty,” Kate murmured. “Such a pretty girl,” the attention from the brunette had your cheeks heating up, eyes cast down in an attempt to avoid Kate’s gaze.

No longer quiet, a noise that was damn near a moan ripped through you.

Kate was still unsure in her movements, her hand moving down from your chin, trailing past your neck until it once again landed on your breast. “Is this okay?” She asked, nervous as her hand dipped beneath your shirt, reaching towards your bra-covered tits.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, head thrown back as the pleasure of Kate’s hands on you overtook you so quickly. “Please.”

“Not yet,” Wanda told Kate as her hands ventured further up your torso, palming the sides of your breasts. With another flick of her wrist the roped fell away from your wrists and ankles slithering and writhing like snakes.

“Come on, pup. Let’s have some fun with your new little toy.”

You started to complain as you felt Kate’s hands leave your body briefly before encircling you in them, lifting you to her chest as she stood. Your legs quickly wrapped around her waist, the shorts you were wearing riding up in the process. Your arms quickly gripped Kate’s biceps, fighting to maintain balance, but the hard muscle underneath your fingertips assured you that you were in no danger of being dropped.

You hadn’t noticed Kate’s muscle at first, but with the way the muscles of her strong arms rippled and stained as she flexed them, her tank top leaving little to the imagination, you decided the title of daddy definitely suited her.

“You’re gripping me so tight, huh, baby? Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Kate cooed in your ear, sending a chill throughout your system. Your shudders didn’t go unnoticed by her, causing her to smirk as she kicked a door to a room and let you go as she walked into the room.

You screw your eyes shut, preparing for the impact of the fall, but instead being met by the softness of a mattress underneath you. You slowly opened your eyes to see Kate towering over you, tank top already removed to reveal her sports bra underneath, and watching the way her muscles contort with her every movement distracted you from the witch sneaking up to you from your other side until you felt Wanda’s hand land on your stomach, trailing downwards.

“Such a good whore,” Wanda said as her hand dipped into your shorts, smirking at the way your legs instinctively spread open and she stole your attention away from Kate momentarily. “You want mommy’s fingers inside you, honey?”

“Mommy,” you whined, bucking your hips up as Wanda’s fingers made contact with your covered clit and she began rubbing slow and harsh circles there.

Bucking your hips into Wanda’s hand, you could feel yourself leaking through your shorts. But, much to your dismay, Wanda removed her hand when loud moans began to leave your mouth.

Your hips lifted off the bed, trying to chase Wanda’s hand, but red wisps floated around you and were suddenly pinning you to the mattress.

“Patience, “ Wanda warned you, her harsh glare bore into you as her magic kept your head in place. “I want Kate to have the first turn with you.”

Your eyes flickered to Kate, unable to move your head with Wanda keeping you completely immobilised.

The brunette still leaned over you at the edge of the bed, unintentionally sending chills through you with her eyes staring into yours while she tried to avoid looking at your body, which Wanda was slowly unveiling, knowing all it would lead to is weak knees and blushing.

“Come on, Katie,” Wanda reached out for her hand, pulling Kate until she landed on the bed with a soft thud, laying sprawled across your stomach. She manoeuvred herself so her body was laying across yours, her face inches from yours.

Wanda’s fingers threaded through Kate’s hair, twisting the locks around her hand and yanking back, abruptly pulling Kate’s face away from yours.

Wanda’s hand trailed down Kate’s front, whispering soft words into her ear in another language that you could barely hear. The sentences were soothing, a lullaby of sorts, to you, and they had you relaxing into the soft cotton of the bed and sinking deeper into submission underneath the two women.

Wanda’s hand stopped short of where Kate was dripping from, red swirling from her fingertips as the magic entrapped Kate’s thighs in its strong hold, black material sewing itself under Wanda’s hand under nothing but a rather thick harness covered Kate’s body and something dangling from her which was obscured by Wanda’s hand, and you nearly cursed yourself for hoping it was something she would fill you up with. Although the intimate place it was didn’t leave much to the imagination.

You could see Kate’s nervous glances, thrown over her shoulder to Wanda who reassured her, smiling at Kate and guiding her hips towards yours, but by that point your too dumbed down brain couldn’t make much sense of anything until Kate’s strap was trialing through your folds.

The strap was flexible, the small ridges creating stimulation that made you want to beg for more within seconds, but as soon as your mouth opened Wanda’s magic was slithering inside, filling your mouth, gagging you and muffling any words or sounds.

“So pretty,” Wanda muttered as a string of drool trailed down your chin and small whimpers vibrated around her magic.

“Aw, I think the sweet thing’s trying to beg,” you nodded your head quickly, bucking your hips to emphasise your point.

“Go on then, pup. Give her what she wants,” Wanda encouraged.

Kate looked back at her with wide eyes as you whined for her.

“I-I don’t know how to-“

“Shh, it’s alright,” Wanda interrupted Kate’s whispers, gripping the brunette’s hips, surely leaving bruises for the next morning. “Just help your toy feel good.”

You moaned loudly as Kate held the end of her strap, directing the tip into your entrance.

“More, please,” your muffled begging filled Kate’s ears, and suddenly her entire strap was pushed inside you.

“Fuck,” Kate sighed, nearly falling against you if it wasn’t for Wanda’s hands on her.

“Can you feel that, Katie?” Wanda said in her ear, guiding Kate’s hips in rocking movements. “Did I forget to mention that little surprise?” Kate let out a strangled moan as you clenched around her. “It’s a magic strap, baby,” Wanda muttered against Kate as her mouth fell to Kate’s neck. “You can feel everything that your pretty little slut does to you.”

“Mommy,” Kate ground into you as she spoke to Wanda, nearly ignoring you completely aside from her strap inside your pussy.

“Shh, I have one more surprise for you both,” Wanda said, red coils floating from her and wrapping around Kate’s strap, seeping into the tentacle.

Kate wasn’t sure what Wanda had done until she heard your moans increase in volume, and saw her strap wiggling inside of you.

“The little princess will be cumming in no time.”

A blush stained Kate’s cheeks, knowing what the tentacle was doing inside of you as she rolled her hips, moving it in and out of you.

Stifled begging filled the room as a coil tightened in your stomach, the rush of your orgasm quickly approaching. Kate’s hips rocked faster, desperate for the feeling of your walls surrounding her.

“Come on, please, please,” Kate groaned, grunting as her thrusts picked up and her tentacle-like-cock slammed into you. “Cum, baby. Just cum. I need you, please.” Kate’s hand reached out, her fingers quickly finding your little ball of nerves, rubbing furiously, trying to draw your climax out of you.

“Fuck,” Kate moaned with you as the tentacle twisted inside your pussy with a mind of its own, filling every part of your core and hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. “Cum!”

And with a strangled scream your release washed over you, Wanda studying your face while Kate’s head was thrown back in pure ecstasy, reaching her peak seconds after you.

Hot cum spurted from crevices and holes in the tentacle and you tiredly sighed as it filled you up, cum leaking from both you and Kate as she collapsed against your chest, strap still buried in you, although it’s movements had stilled, and her hand had moved from your cliff to rest on your torso.

“Good girls,” Wanda whispered to you and Kate, dismounting from behind Kate to fall into bed beside you both, a sleepy look on Kate’s face while you were almost passed out. “You took it so well, angels.”

Kate hummed happily, shifting on top of you to get more comfortable, wet noises from where her strap was filling all of your ears, even from just that slight movement.

“Don’t wanna pull out,” Kate mumbled, burying her face in your neck as darkness lulled you towards sleep.

“It’s okay, detka. You don’t have to,” Wanda soothed her, hand coming up to stroke Kate’s hair, her fingers lightly scratching at her scalp. “Just relax and rest.”

Kate’s eyes fluttered in an attempt to stay awake, but she quickly succumbed to sleep and fell limp against you, Wanda gently shifting Kate’s body to stop her muscles from crushing you.

“Now everything is as it should be,” Wanda smiled at you, your eyelids illuminated with red as her magic did its work. Soon you would be just like Kate, if not worse. So obedient and dependent on her.

Just as Wanda wanted things to be.

[rainsofvioleta]

here's your time to shine: 25 for the violetta ask thing

25: if you were to rewrite season 3, what would you change?

*rubs hands together* seatbelts on please everyone :)

this roxy plotline; we're keeping it, BUT - she doesn't become roxy because she's jealous and impulsive, she becomes roxy because she's feeling incredibly lost - she's quit youmix, antonio's gone, she's broken up with león, and she's got this totally new family dynamic that she doesn't really know how to handle. violetta isn't sure who 'violetta' is anymore, so to become 'roxy' is a relief because there's no pressure or expectation. i'd probably have león figure out it's violetta fairly early on, he wouldn't tell her though, he'd allow her to carry on with the charade because he'd start to understand she's doing it because she's literally having an identity crisis. and yeah okay maybe he's falling in love with her all over again, and I'm picturing a scene where he lets her know that he knows and that it's okay to ask for help because he can see that being both violetta and roxy is starting to get too stressful for her; i think him, fran and cami would probably stage an intervention.

i'd have a deep dive into WHY león acts so jealous all the damn time, this guy's got two years worth of trauma, and needs a lot of reassurance from violetta all the time that she loves him and only him - I'd probably keep that breakup they have in ep 22, but have it be because león acknowledges that how he's acting isn't healthy and he needs distance.

geryyyyy gery gery gery 🙄 as much as i want to completely write her out, i do think she had wasted potential. i would give her an actual backstory, in which we see that she's got a lot of trust issues - my personal hc is she had a friend she was once close (possibly more than friends?) with, who outed her to her parents, who then cut her off - these are all people she should be able to put her faith in and they let her down; violetta happens to look/act like this girl she once knew and gery makes a negative assumption based on that. working this into the show could be difficult without flashbacks, i would maybe have her stalking her ex-"friend"'s social media a lot and even have clement overhear a phone conversation between the two of them. i think her obsession with león would be born out of a subconscious desire to get revenge on violetta whom she associates with this other girl, as opposed to genuine romantic attraction (comphet maybe too?).

diego and fran!!! i really want to see diego's FULL arc, they started season 3 with everyone 100% cool w/ diego no questions asked??? i kinda want him to still be a lil hung up over the events of the past year, people are still a bit suspicious of him but he gains everyone's trust and also fran's attention 👀👀 but slower this time, with some classic tropey "oh look they accidentally ended up in e/o's arms", and the whole nonsense of keeping it from violetta is dragged out for maybe 5 episodes max before fran just blurts it out because they're literally best friends!!

priscila: we see her get 10 years in jail :)

with germán and angie as much as i love the drama and their chemistry i would honestly have preferred the show to have germán just solo parent violetta, angie is there to help but not as a romantic partner to germán...

tl; dr

I'm fixing leonetta's ridiculous miscommunication and jealousy plotlines, GIVING gery a plotline, making diego's arc feel more natural, and putting people in therapy! if you gave me a notebook and two spare hours i could probably write an outline for the whole series but this is all I've got right this second 😗

[ellsbclls]

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship. 

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking. 

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit. 

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing," 

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand. 

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly. 

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment. 

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

[awkward-tension-art]

Put on a Show

So @weebsinstash has an incredible yandere!erasermic x reader series go read everything they write, its fantastic

I wanted to play around with the idea too, so i asked for permission on anon lol.

enjoy this full 2,090 words

Warning: yandere themes, yandere!erasermic, League of Villains, fear, mentions of past torture, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, implied  Spinner x Reader, kissing, Villain origin story, female pronouns used for reader, (if i missed a tag lmk)

You ran. You ran as fast and as far as you could. Your bare feet hit the wet ground, cursing as you stumbled. Your hands hit the mud, but you didn’t stop.

Even when your lungs screamed.

Even when your muscles burned.

You kept going.

With luck, a razor and your own wits you had managed to escape that hell house. You’d managed to escape from the clutches of your obsessed demons. 

At the slight thought of your tormentors, the now healed break in your leg aches all over again. 

Keep going.

Keep going.

KEEP GOING.

The woods betrayed you before, but hopefully, the downpour may erase your footprints. A branch latched onto your shoulder and you screeched. Memories of Aizawa’s cruel grasp flooded your mind. You slipped on the wet ground, tumbling down a slight incline. 

Dazed, confused and hurt, you ignored your pain and kept going. Desperation and adrenaline kept you going.

Do not stop.

Do not stop.

You looked down to avoid losing your eyes to another branch, only to embarrassingly run straight into a tree. Your body fell back, landing harshly on the mud.

You heard a groan.

Trees do not groan.

Fear overran your systems as you slowly, shakily looked up.

In front of you was a man covered in green scales. He looked more like a lizard, than an actual human, but you quickly guessed that was his quirk. But, he wasn’t alone.

A scarred man with piercings. A teenage girl with blond hair. Another man with a mask. And lastly…

You recognized him from the news.

Shigaraki.

The League Of Villains

“What the hell,” The lizard-man hissed, rubbing his head, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

You took your chances.

“Please…” you gasped, looking up at the white haired leader, “Help me.”

It took approximately 3 seconds to be taken from the forest. The scarred man, Dabi you learned, pulled out his phone and called Kurogiri, their method of transport. 

Spinner, surprisingly like a gentleman, helped you stand and introduced himself. 

Not a second later your vision was filled with black and you were out of the rain.

Out of the cold.

Out of the monsters’ clutches.

Instead, you found yourself in a surprisingly comfortable bar scene. It was warm, bright, and quite homey.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you, his red eyes giving away nothing. The blonde however, hovered, as she began to talk. You couldn’t keep up, exhaustion slowing your mind and mental process. All you managed to register is ‘blood’.

A tall woman spoke up first, “oh dear, look at you. You look like a wet rat.” She inspected you before standing straight, “Let me get you something dry.You can call my Big Sis Magne!”

You nodded, managing a small “thank you,” as she rushed out of the room to come back with a dry towel, draping it over you.

‘Huh, it smells nice,’ you thought, wrapping it around your shoulders, taking in the small comfort. Almost like roses and lavender…

The leader finally spoke up, “Who are you?”

That was the question. That one simple question caused the dam to burst. You broke down, telling them everything. The torture, the abuse, the agony, all by the hands of two supposed heroes. You went over every grueling, painful detail, tears pouring down your face. 

They knew of your captors and torture before they even knew your name.

With every word, The league members, especially Dabi, became more and more disgusted and angry. You didn’t even finish when Spinner offered a kind hand for you to hold onto. 

“P-please,” you finally managed, “D-don’t send me back…”

Shigaraki scoffed, “Heroes think they can just do whatever they want huh? Well fuck ‘em. Eraserhead and Present Mic want their precious treasure back? Well too bad. It’s ours now.”

Big Sis Magne let out a happy laugh, “Oh good! Another girl! If you ask me, only having Toga around was getting to be too much.” She took your other free hand, “We’re gonna be such a good team, those nasty heroes won’t know what hit them.”

“I can’t wait to make them pay with their blood,” Toga smiled, her golden eyes shining with excitement. Dabi remained silent, but Spinner gave you a kind smile. “What a show it will be! You, coming face to face with those demons, and having us at your back!” The one with the mask, Mr.Compress, finally spoke, giving a theatrical hand wave.

With every word, you felt your shoulders get lighter. 

“Now,” The leader, your new leader, spoke up, “Tell me all about your quirk, and those pieces of garbage that hurt you.”

When Shouta and Hizashi returned home, they knew something was wrong. The house seemed...cold. You were not in the living room, nor the kitchen. 

They assumed this was one of your bad days. Where you’d sleep until it was late at night, only so you can avoid them.

Quickly, that changed. 

The closer Shouta got to your door, the more he felt his gut twist. The air seemed wet and almost humid.

“Hey, are you awake in there?” He knocked, concerned, “I’m coming in!” 

When he opened the door, the wet air made sense. Your window was open, rain poured in from the storm outside. The carpet and everything else by the window was soaked, giving the hero a clue that you’ve been gone a while. 

“HIZASHI!” The black haired male called out, darting into the room. Desperately he looked around, only to look up when he heard his husband cry out. 

“She’s gone! Our songbird is gone!!” He panicked, aiding Shouta in his desperate search. The couple tore apart the house, hoping this was something else. Hoping you didn’t leave through the window. 

They hoped and prayed, only for their optimism to be dashed when their search turned up empty. 

“We need to go after her!” The blonde hero cried, “s-she could be hurt! She doesn’t know how to take care of herself!!” 

Shouta was already preparing to venture outside. He was at the door when he turned to look at his severely distressed husband, “stay here. In case she comes back, I’ll go look for her.” 

With that, Eraserhead ran out of the front door of the house, hoping to find you in the woods. 

Days became weeks became months. With every passing hour, you felt happier and lighter. Your spirit and soul were healing. It will take time, but you knew you were able to recover. You had escaped, and found a family who would ride or die with you. 

You’d ride or die with them. 

Spinner was especially kind to you. He was a gentleman, always asking before touching. You spent most of your free time with him when he or you weren’t gone collecting information or searching for members. 

You still weren't comfortable going on missions by yourself. Most of the them were with Dabi, Big Sis Magne or Jin, who you’d met shortly after your joining. Despite the short time with them, you felt like you belonged. You helped them, they helped you. You became a part of their family. 

They’d even gone so far as to get your cat Mochi back. Dabi simply dumped the kitty on your lap and walked away without saying anything. You missed your feline friend, and now in the league, he gets all the love the villains could muster. 

They try to keep sudden loud noises to a minimum. Occasionally a surprise yell or sound would happen, but someone was always quick to jump to your defense. 

It was mostly Shigaraki, but he’d apologize begrudgingly.

Even he wasn’t so bad. You had gone with Toga to get him a new controller, and he’s tolerated you ever since (maybe even respect you after you managed to beat him to a quick video game match). 

This was your life. This was your freedom. 

This was what you wanted. 

It’s been hell without you. Shouta and Hizashi were in hell. It’s been months since the eraser hero found your footprints surrounded by others. It’s been months of searching. Months of desperation to rescue you from your kidnappers. That’s the only logical reason for your disappearance. 

You were kidnapped. 

You needed them. You needed your lovers. 

But they couldn’t save you. 

Some nights Shouta would wake up alone. He’d be cold and lonely. Slowly he’d walk to your room, and find his blonde husband asleep, holding your favorite pillow. 

It stopped smelling like you a while ago. 

With every passing day their hope waned. With every passing hour their hearts ached. 

Shouta finally broke down one night. When he woke up alone again he wandered to your room, finding Hizashi in his usual position. Instead of being asleep, the blonde’s shoulders shook with muffled sobs and cries. 

The Eraser hero sat on the bed and held his husband, not bothering to muffle his own weeping. 

This isn’t what they wanted. 

The view from the roof was both beautiful and hilarious. You orchestrated a nomu attack, remaining hidden. Spinner was accompanying you. The others were scattered around the city, taking in the chaos. 

You remembered those roads and streets. You walked them for so long. 

Until those bastards stole you. 

Now, with your life in the league, you could stroll down the sidewalk again. You could see the sky and feel the sun. 

You could punish heroes for abandoning you. For letting you get kidnapped. 

A smile graced your lips. The chaos of the nomu was beautiful. 

There was a flash of black in the corner of your eye, and you turned your head. Slowly, your smile grew at the sight of Eraserhead struggling to take down the brutish monster. 

Only to have your smile fade when Present Mic saves him. 

“Ugh, I hate them.” You growled, “I see them and I hate them.” 

Spinner looked up from his spot on the roof. He swished his tail once before following your gaze to your distant tormentors.  

“You should put on a show,” he put a hand on your shoulder, “drive ‘em even more bat shit.”

You laughed warmly, the idea of breaking their hearts even more gave you infinite joy. 

“Mind if I use you?” You asked, preparing to use your quirk. 

With the villains you have gotten stronger. Your quirk was a weapon. A strong, powerful, useful weapon. 

You’re the opposite of what Shouta and Hizashi said over and over again. 

They can’t tell you that you're weak. Not anymore. 

There was a tipped over bus, and that’s where you planted the illusion. 

You and Spinner, hand in hand. 

Oh this is gonna be good. 

When they dealt with the Nomu, Hizashi looked to the bus, and even from a distance, you could see his eyes widen. 

“S-songbird!” 

You gagged, and Spinner laughed softly beside you.

Shouta looked up, meeting the illusions gaze. 

You feared he’d use his quirk, destroying your fun, but he didn’t, at least not in that instant. 

“G-get away from her!” The black haired male shouted, his black eyes trained on fake-spinner. 

“No,” the illusion spoke, “I think your precious songbird belongs to me.”

The illusion of spinner pulled illusion you closer. The illusion of you looking bashful.

Shouta prepared an attack, jumping up in the air to do so. Hizashi prepared his own quirk, apparently ok with sacrificing your well-being to get you. 

You cause fake-spinner to dip fake-you into a deep kiss. 

That was apparently distracting enough to cause Present Mic to choke on air, and Eraserhead to stumble and miss his attack. 

“Come on my sweet,” fake-you cooed, “let’s go.” 

You created one more illusion, covering the two fakes in smoke, making them disappear. 

As you finished with your quirk, you rubbed your temples. 

Spinner laughed beside you, “m-my sweet! Oh my god you killed me.” 

You gave a faint smile, that only grew when you heard Hizashi’s mournful howling. 

Spinner and you peered over the edge of the roof, and spotted the two of them breaking down. The blonde was wailing. You swear you saw his fat tears from your position. 

Shouta just looked broken. He looked absolutely devastated.

Maybe a long time ago that sight would have hurt you. 

You made eye contact with your partner next to you. 

“My sweet,” you teased, promptly bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go! Before they hear us!” Spinner tried to shush you, failing with his own giggling. 

You nodded and grabbed his hand. 

“Let’s go then,” you winked, “my sweet.”

The both of you fled, making your way to Jin and Toga. 

You smiled at the sight of them, only feeling happier as more of your family of villains got together. 

This is exactly where you wanted to be. 

A villain, to make those heroes suffer.

[allandoflimbo]

Can you write one where one day the team is in the compound and Bucky goes to show them something on the TV and his phone is connected to it and he accidentally shows everyone a video of him touching himself and he gets embarrassed and reader starts blushing because she has a crush on him and then after that they are embarrassed because Bucky likes her too and then he kisses her or more.

Live Show

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2,515

Rating: M

“We’re all going to the living room, something about a movie night. You in?”

You quickly noted the hopeful and enthusiastic tone in your friend’s voice. Wanda was still slightly drunk from the tequila shot you had made her take with you that evening after an exhausting mission in Riga.  

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Wanda grabbed onto your arm, pulling you halfway out of your room and into the hallway. You had barely been settled into your quarters when she had stopped you dead in your tracks. Sometimes you cursed the beautiful girl in your head for being so eager to always have a good time, not knowing how she had the energy, but other times you just wanted to rest. You had barely made it out alive tonight, the wound from 9mm bullet that had grazed your upper shoulder and was not yet fully healed. How awful was it that you just wanted to take a hot shower and a nap?

“Bucky will be there.” The mention of his name made your upper belly catapult and you pursed your lips, looking away from her knowing eyes. 

“Stop, Wanda.” You looked down at yourself and half considered actually joining her after she mentioned Bucky would be there, “I need a shower. I was hoping the shots were good enough to last us into the night.” You excused halfheartedly. Your eyes darted down the hall that led into the main room and you wondered if he was already there.

Bucky Barnes was a leanly built, dark haired, and blue eyed good man that you had harbored a crush for ever since you met him on a mission along side Sam Wilson in Serbia. As much as you tried to avoid his presence after joining the team, it was no denying that you were irrevocably attracted to him. You always wondered what he looked like under his tactical gear. Of course Wanda knew about your crush, she was your best friend.

“Go take your shower and then come. I won’t take no for an answer.” She said smugly. She let go of your arm and leaned back on the balls of her feet.

The edge of your lips perk up. Damn her for being so sweet and adorable, it practically made you cave.

“Fine, I’ll be out in a few minutes,” you grabbed her shoulder as you watched and noticed her lean way too far back and you spun her slightly around in the direction of the kitchen, “you go sober up. Drink water, Wanda.”

She waved over her shoulder with a huff and you watched with a chuckle. You felt the butterflies flutter in your tummy at the thought of seeing Bucky soon — hopefully gaining a seat next to him on the couch.

The moment you stepped out of the shower you dried off and quickly slipped on a pair of grey Nike sweats and a white T-shirt.  You let your damp hair flow down your back, deciding you’d let it air dry for the rest of the night. Some of the strands began to seep in through the back of your shirt as you stepped into the hallway, closing your door.

Sam met you at your side as he came up behind you. “Those make your ass look fantastic.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” You pulled out your phone from your pocket.

He smiled. “I’m kidding. It looks okay.”

You snapped your head at him, smiling wide.

“Thanks.”

He dropped a playful arm around your shoulders and brought you into his hide for a tight hug. You chuckled, sliding your phone back into your pocket after seeing you had no new notifications.

Stepping into the dark living room that was illuminated but the blue glow of the moderate sixty inch television, your eyes quickly scanned the area. Vision and Wanda were already huddled up in the corner of the couch and, of course, Bucky was sitting off to the side. He wore a white shirt similar to yours and black sweats that hugged his thighs. The sight made you want to moan. He was looking through his phone, his legs spread apart, and a forearm on each knee as he looked used it. Sam made a snarky comment to him, something about looking gloomy, and Bucky laughed. 

His eyes snapped up just long enough for your gaze to meet. His features softened as he looked at you and couldn’t help but instinctually bite your lip, but bashfully look away at the same time. You followed behind Sam and he took a seat on Bucky’s right and you to his left by the arm of the couch.

His leg radiated off heat like a furnace and it made your skin burn. You watched as he continued to look through his phone and your eyes darted down to his legs again. You wondered what they felt like — if they felt as hard as they looked. You then looked at his hands, the veins making you itch to feel them on your skin. 

You couldn’t help a small groan that left your lips and your quickly catch your slip, clearing your throat embarrassingly loud. What was wrong with you? For all you knew, Bucky could be this total gentleman, just like the rumors you heard about him back when he was dating girls in nineteen forty-five. He was also a professional killer — killer of evil that is. He’s the best Avenger the public has seen since Steve’s passing. He was a great man, yet here you were having filthy and dirty thoughts about him.

Who even knew if he still thinks about sex like that? He probably has better and more important things to worry about.

“Can you hurry, I’m getting sleepy.” Wanda complained from her side of the couch.

“I’m trying to find it.” Bucky mumbled.

Your brows furrow together in confused. “What are we looking for?” “Hulu’s not working on the tv, so I’m just going to airdrop it from my phone.” Bucky says.

You smirked.

“You know what airdrop is, Voltaire?” Sam asks sarcastically.

Bucky ignores Sam completely as he straightens out his back. He spreads his legs just a little wider and his left leg ends up hitting yours. 

Your body stiffens at the contact.

“Got it. I think.” You mumbles under his breath. You’re not paying attention to what he’s doing, you don’t even offer help as you note him moving around way too long on his phone for someone who simply needs to press the airdrop feature. Instead you’re focused on the muscles of his back as they flex. His shirt is begging to be ripped by your hands and you suddenly remember the one moment you both had a few weeks ago when you were trying to pass him in the kitchen and you felt him graze your lower back with his hand as you did so. He had smiled so good and —

moaning.

Your stomach flips.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop —“

Your cheeks grow hot at the voice and suddenly the room is in a ball of commotion and your leg is cold. Bucky had gotten up and his hand was moving frantically over his phone, the other over the remote control. Your eyes are on the tv and you can’t believe what you are seeing.

Holy hell.

There was Bucky Barnes, his phone plopped up on something as he sat in front of the camera, legs spread. Except this time he wasn’t wearing anything at all. His abs clenched deliciously slow as his hand stroked the tip of his thick cock. His face was contorted in pleasure, his lips pink and full.

“Right there…”

“Bucky, what the hell!” “Dude, turn this shit off. What did you touch?” “Give it to me.” “Just exit it out of it!” “The control, give me the control.”

“Oh, my god.” Is Wanda’s exclamation in her tiny voice as she hides her face behind her hands.

“I’m trying. Oh my god.” Bucky’s voice wavered as he walks up to the tv, “i’m turning it off, don’t look at it.”

You were stunned, still haven’t said a single word.

“Right there, right there…” he panted as his hand focused on his mushroom tip, “Gonna make me cum.”

Those were the last few words that echoed around the room before the tv shut off and everyone was enveloped in total darkness and silence. 

Sam’s finger was on the control on the power button, a big amused smug on his face. Bucky, on the other hand, was running a hand over his face and then through his hair. He pulled on the strands and his arms and back flexed again.

You gulped, feeling the heat in your cheeks and core grow even more.

“Well, that was fun.” Sam says.

“Shut up.” Bucky groaned, clearly upset and embarrassed. 

“Come on, Bucky. It happens. We all do it.” Sam says with a shrug. You were happy it was dark in there so no one could see how red you were. You needed to get out of there, you needed some air or at least some water.

We all do it.

Bucky took a deep breath and then turned to Sam, “Everyone close their eyes, you turn it back on and just exit out of it and put the damn movie on.” Bucky mumbles, quickly handing Sam his phone.

Sam takes it from him with a chuckle. You watch from your peripheral as Bucky quickly makes a deadline for the kitchen. You watch as he fumbles his way into opening the fridge and then turning away from all of you to grab a mug in the cabinet. 

Part of you felt bad. Should you say something?

You cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna get some water.” You announce, pushing yourself off the couch.

You hear Sam snicker behind you and it takes all your muster to not turn around and slap him.

It’s not until you’re halfway to the kitchen that your curse yourself for deciding to do this. What were you even going to say?

Bucky takes a sip of whatever he poured himself from the mug, and turns to face the wall. Just then his eye catches yours.

Damn it. No turning back now.

It takes you a cup of water and some awkward sipping next to each other before you have the guts to speak up.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You say quietly, even though Sam already got the movie started so they probably wouldn’t even hear.

You watch Bucky’s human hand tighten around the white mug. It’s then that you catch the whiff of tangy orange juice in the air.

“Sam is right, we all do it.” Bucky perks a brow at this and you immediately regret what you said, “I mean, it’s nothing you should be ashamed of.” Bucky puts his now empty cup in the sink and you do the same. You catch both you and him off guard as you reach out to grab his arm, “hey.” 

He looks up at you suddenly, his pretty lips open and begging. You look down at them and he catches you.

Your name leaves his lips in a whisper, “It’s still embarrassing, I don’t want them to see that,” your eyes meet and the air between you is intense. You feel your breathing come out quicker as his own gaze drifts down to your lips and then back to your eyes again. He swallows thickly, “especially you.”

You are overwhelmed by the feeling of rejection that slams into you at his words. You take your hand off his arm like its on fire and he watches your movements like a hawk. He notices your reaction to his words and he wants to take them back immediately, but your next moves are way too quick for him to process. You nod quickly, give him a short smile that doesn’t necessarily reach your eyes, and walk back to the couch to watch the rest of the film.

Sitting next to him doesn’t end up being as nicely as you had hoped, and when it’s over you don’t even give him a proper goodbye. You rush into your quarters as fast as you possibly can, already thinking about escaping his heady aura.

You pull back the covers of your bed and run a hand through your hair. You knew your crush for him was only getting deeper by the second, but this was insane. How were you even going to be able to work around him this way?

You let out a long breath, preparing to head into the bathroom to brush your teeth when you hear a knock at your door.

Your brows knit together, and when you open your door you’re surprised to see Bucky leaning against the door frame.

You raise a brown and prepare your voice to not sound as vulnerable as your felt. “Hey.”

There’s a casual strand of hair over his forehead and he stares at you with a look you can’t pin point. He licks his lips and looks away.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet.

“What’s wrong?” You ask seriously.

“I—,” he takes a deep breath. He takes his hand off the door frame and runs it back through his hair, pushing that strand off his skin. His blue eyes are now more revealing than ever, “Earlier, when I said especially you,” you feel your skin heat up at the reminder of what happened earlier, what you had seen, and you notice it has the same effect on him as his own cheeks grow a blush hue.

“Look, Bucky, I get it. You said you were embarrassed —”

He shakes his head, “No, that’s not why.” He looks down at his feet and bites his lip before look up at you through thick lashes and a heavy gaze, “Can I come in?”

You’re slightly taken aback and also confused by his request but you nod.

You don’t even have the door closed all the way before you feel his hand on your neck. He’s spinning you around and he’s got your head up against the door. You only catch a quick glimpse of his eyes on your lips before he’s kissing you.

It’s possibly the sweetest and most tender kiss you’ve ever received in your life and it has your toes curling into the wooden floor beneath you. His metal grip tightens on your waist and he grounds his hips into yours, making you moan. His kisses slow down to pecks and he has you breathing hard when he pulls away. You’re speechless as he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“I meant especially you because when I recorded that, I was thinking about you.” His voice is raspy and thick in the air. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at his vulgar words. “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes look down to his lips, the lust taking over you in heavy waves. You lean in and kiss him softly.

“I do deserve better,” Bucky’s face crumbles slightly at your words, “I deserve a live show.”

[dalgonachan]

Latibule

pairing: Seungkwan x reader, ft. 95z as a troublesome trio genre: high school au, angst, fluff warnings: none prompt: every day is a new beginning, but today just seems to be too tough to face count: 3632 a/n: i feel like my new writing pattern is updating on the members’ birthdays. this one has been sitting in my drafts for like a year and i was having second thoughts about posting it but alas here it is. happy birthday to best boi boo seungkwan 🥳🎈

Standing in a shower cubicle, as you feel your hair and body dripping wet, definitely counts as one of the most awkward moments in your entire life. Most especially when you’re waiting for everyone to leave the locker room. Forgetting to bring your towel with you was a completely dumb move because you just ran in and took a shower without even thinking of the consequences of being unprepared. Although, first come first serve basis has become a tradition during gym class and you don't want to run out of stalls and wait. Even worse, having to share with someone too generous would be an unpleasant experience. So here you were waiting for everyone to leave so that you can dash out of the cubicle and grab your towel from the lockers.

Maybe I could just wear my swimsuit, go out, and take my towel—no. You thought to yourself, quickly dismissing the thought with a shake of your head. That is just disgusting.

There are around four or five more people left. Silently, you whisper to the air about how much you wish for them to leave so you can be alone right now. Not long after, you hear the locker room door close, followed by a sudden stillness. You carefully open your stall's door, hoping it doesn't creak, and peek outside to check if there's still anyone left. 

Nobody's here. But me. Good.

Without hesitation, you immediately exit the stall and manage not to slip while running. You slam the locker door open as soon as you’re inches away from it, then grab your towel and start drying off. You’re not even close to dry when you change back into your uniform and shoes, but for now, you really don't care. You’re running late for math class thanks to your stupidity.

Your footsteps and ragged breathing echo in the empty hallway. You slow down and start searching for your locker. Upon instantly catching sight of it, you sprint for it and nearly slam against it. You twist the knob to put in the code, however, it doesn't open and you try again. A few more attempts to open it are made, but none succeed.

"Come on! Work!" You plead, twisting the knob one last time.

Finally, you give up and kick your busted locker in anger. Being awfully late for math class is as bad as lacking the needed requirements, but together they're simply distressing.

You turn around and walk down the hall, dragging your feet lethargically. Your backpack seems to weigh heavier than it is... or was gravity also conspiring against you, trying to get your body to drop to the floor? As usual, you shrug it off and try your best to go on.

I'll just get to class and hope that this day doesn't completely go downhill.

Eventually, you reach your destination. Hesitantly, your hand reaches for the door knob, but getting caught standing outside any longer could give you a formal warning. You decide to walk in as casually as possible. For certain, you’ve failed to act normally because your movements become stiff with everyone's eyes on you. Barely reaching your chair, the teacher calls you out.

"(L/n)! You're late," her harsh tone is startling and you freeze.

"My apologies, Miss Kang," you timidly respond.

"I hope you have your materials with you." She taps the attendance chart on her desk. "Don't forget to register."

The attendance chart is where students write in, of course, their attendance. However, that isn't all. Listed above their names is a row of all the requirements needed in class. If they have the specified material, a check mark is put below it, beside their name. Lucky for you, you have none so the space beside your name is left blank.

Miss Kang checks the chart and gives you a look after reading your entry. With her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, and hands on her hips, it's obvious that she's cross. You lower your head in shame as you feel everybody staring in silence, watching the scene before them unfold. 

This must be so interesting for them. Spitefulness drips off your thoughts like venom. (Y/n) (L/n), the pupil who came to class tardy and incomplete, is sent to detention by the math teacher.

You take off the embarrassingly enormous detention tag hanging around your neck and place it in the plastic basket right next to Miss Joo's desk. She doesn't even look up from her computer as she points to your seat—fifth to the right, third to the back. Making your way to the chair, you take a gander at all the other students in the detention room. Some were familiar faces, some others you didn't know at all. Yoon Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol, and Hong Jisoo, a group of known troublemakers in your school, huddled at the back while palavering about what most likely is their next evil scheme. You get into your seat, pull out a pad paper and pen, then carelessly drop your bag onto the floor.

Miss Kang sent you to detention to write a two thousand word essay about why one should always be prepared and early for class. Could there possibly be a punishment much worse than this? Honestly, it doesn't take long to fill up half of the paper since you were simply stating all the corrections to the mistakes you've recently committed. Just as you’re about to move on to the next page, something slobbery hits your nape followed by an eruption of laughter. You don't even have to turn your head to know who shot that spitball, but still do it to send a death glare their way. Jeonghan shrugs as if he knows nothing, meanwhile the other two are too busy laughing their heads off. If only.

Returning your attention to the paper, you force yourself to ignore them. The pen glides smoothly across the sheet as your thoughts fluidly flow out... but not for long. Another spitball comes your way, but this time it lands on the paper. You can tell they used so much saliva on this one because it created one hell of an ugly blotch on the essay that it actually ruined the ink. So much for effort.

This time, there is no room for mercy. Obviously, Miss Joo doesn't care, so you push your chair out of the desk, letting it screech across the floor, and stomp over to the three boys. The other students in the room watch closely, anticipating the drama about to happen. With arms crossed and eyebrows arched, you shoot them with the most painful glare you can make.

"I'm sorry, but what is your problem?!" You could almost yell at them, but you don't want to get into any more trouble. You’re going up until only this far.

"Nothing. We were just messing around," Jeonghan smugly replies.

You fight the temptation to rip his mouth off his face, but the urge to do so can still be heard in the way you speak.

"Nothing? Oh, sure! I totally believe you, as if you three..." You point an accusing finger at each of them, "...weren't spewing spitballs in my direction!"

The whole room is filled with silence and old Miss Joo is still as deaf as ever.

"We weren't aiming at you," Jisoo defends, leaning forward.

"We were trying to get it to the trash can over there!" Seungcheol points with his thumb, but you don't turn around to look.

"I'm not falling for that and you idiots should know that. Oh, but I guess idiots like you don't really understand anything at all." You feel the tone in your voice getting angrier by the second.

"Fine, fine. We're sorry, okay?" Jeonghan says, but the smirk on his face is still evident.

You squint your eyes and tap your foot impatiently on the floor.

"Right, guys?" Jeonghan glances over at his accomplices.

"Sure," Seungcheol says.

"Sorry," Jisoo mumbles.

"You better be. Just quit bothering me." Turn on your heel, you walk away.

Thankfully, you get to reprimand the three of them for their stupidity. Even so, you can hear them whispering behind your back. Returning to your chair, the tension is thick as you feel everyone's eyes on you. Once you sit down, their gazes divert elsewhere because Miss Joo announces it's time for lunch.

The high school cafeteria is filled with boisterous students, making it almost impossible to move around. You carefully weave through the winding crowd, in search of Seungkwan, your boyfriend, while tightly clutching the lunch tray close to your body. Your eyes sharpen upon nearing each table, trying to identify the people seated down.

The crowd begins to thin when you catch sight of him. He's by himself at the table, staring straight at you with a faint smile on his visage, then you notice he hasn't touched his food yet. Obviously, someone's been waiting. You grin widely, approaching the table he reserved for. Fortunately, lunch time is the most forgiving part of a school day. It's also a good thing because you get to spend time together.

"Took you long enough," Seungkwan comments as you arrive.

"I got stuck in the crowd and I had a hard time searching for you because of that," You respond, still standing in front of the table.

"I noticed," he says with a smirk.

"You could've called me!" I grumble.

"It was fun watching you get lost," he says with a chuckle. "Now sit down already! I want to eat!"

"Alright, alright," You say, placing the tray down and settling into the chair.

In the blink of an eye, a football crash lands on the table, knocking out your lunch and hitting you in the face. Food splatters you from head to toe in less than a second before the whole tray falls on your lap. You lose hearing for a while, your ears ringing. The pain on your face throbs mercilessly.

You look up, vision blurry, still dazed from the hit. Your eyes make out the empty space in front and before you can assume he's left, you feel him tugging you out of your seat. The other students simply look at what all the commotion is about. Turning to the direction where the football came from, your vision clears to see Jeonghan, Jisoo, and Seungcheol with guilt-stricken faces. Unsurprising.

"I should've expected those jerks to have done it again," You mutter.

Grabbing your bag, you stand up from the table and burst out of the cafeteria doors in frustration. This day has been pushing your buttons and you've had just about enough. Perhaps, even, too much. And those three just had to add up with the disasters of today.

"(Y/n)! Wait!" You hear Seungkwan yell.

Not wanting him to catch up, you quicken pace. Hot tears streak down your cheeks as you continue to run away. His constant pleas for you to stop being rendered useless by ignorance, however, he still manages to catch up with you. His hand seizes your wrist, but you yank it from his clutch and push him away.

"(Y/n)!" He calls again, stopping in his tracks.

You don't look back and proceed further on through the corridors, not knowing where to take yourself.

History class helps tone down your emotions, distracting you from the reminder that this day is cursed. The quiz temporarily brings your thoughts to concentrate on the task at hand except for the irritatingly scratchy uniform the clinic let you borrow. Just as how your luck ran out today, so does the ink of your pen. Not to mention, writing an essay to a question which isn't even second to the last of the whole paper. Fingers scrambling through the contents of your pencil case, you realise that this is the last pen.

"Hey," you whisper, attempting to get your seatmate's attention.

No response.

"Hey," you say a little bit louder, worried that she didn't hear you at first.

Her head merely turns to the side, sending a glare your way. Before you can ask, she goes back to answering the paper.

"I need to borrow a pen," you persist.

She leans her head to the other side, letting her hair fall over her face to block you from view.

"Please, I'm still not done," you beg, glancing at the clock. Just a few more minutes and the quiz was going to end.

"I really need to bo—"

"(L/n)!" Mr. Ho's voice booms from behind and you flinch.

He snatches the paper from beneath your arm and shoots an angry look. All you could do was sink into the chair in humiliation since you had no idea how to defend yourself. To him and everyone else in this room, it did look like you were trying to cheat. Therefore, you’re sent to detention for the second time this day.

Mr. Ho's class was the last, so technically dismissal comes next. Right now, as you sit in the same seat during the previous detention session, the bell is all you have to wait for. At least the trio didn't get into any trouble this time or you'd be spending the last period with them. Sleep gets the best of you and you’re consciously aware that you were snoozing off, although decide to let it come. You are really exhausted after all you've experienced.

A crackle of thunder jolts you awake from a dream. Your eyes snap open and see the lack of people in the detention room... which means you're alone.

Wait, what time is it? You lean over to check the clock and it's FIFTEEN MINUTES PAST DISMISSAL TIME?! WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY BOTHER TO WAKE ME UP? Hoisting the bag onto your shoulders, you hurry out of the room and scurry the hallways. Only a few students are left, but they have varsity training or cheerleading practice, anything to keep them busy and give them an excuse to stay late in school.

The rain pounds on you when you exit the doors of the school. From head to toe, you are once again sullied. Well, this has officially ruined the whole day. Unstoppable tears, you've been holding in all this time, flow out of your eyes.

Without re-evaluating your thoughts, you run away from the school and hurry home. The cold wind stings your skin and the reoccurring flashes of lightning blind your vision. Hurried steps splash large puddles on the pavement, drenching yourself even more. You really didn't care about anything anymore, so enduring the bad weather didn't matter at all.

Sooner than you could have expected, you reach the bus stop. You don't take long to go sit under the shed because you’re just absolutely done. Panting and soaking wet, you lean against the cold glass pane. You don’t even notice Seungkwan, who seems to be in shock at your condition, come in.

"You're soaking wet! Why didn’t you wait for me?" He asks sitting beside you.

"I'm just having the most terrible day of my life and I don't want to talk about it!" You didn't expect to yell and you bet Seungkwan didn't too because his eyes widened flabbergastingly.

A fresh set of tears begins to pour down again. By then you knew you've made another error you'd immediately regret. Seungkwan’s face is rewritten all over with worry as he reaches for you, but you push his hand and scoot away, then wrap your arms around yourself. He decides to leave it alone for the time being, allowing you to sit with your emotions. Soon, the bus arrived and he stood up, hand outstretched to you.

“Let’s get home.”

You shut the door and click the locks in place. Slamming your back against it, you slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and sobbing. Hopefully, after you give vent to all this exasperation, you'll eventually tire out and go to sleep. The saltiness of your tears blends with sweat, hair sticking to your face.

"(Y/n)?" Seungkwan’s voice is muffled behind the door.

You suck in a breath and stay quiet. He still hasn’t left after dropping you off at your house out of concern.

"Open the door, please?" He gently knocks. "I just want to talk for a little bit. Maybe it will make you feel better."

"Go home, Seungkwan. I'm fine." I know I can lie better than this, but why didn't I?

"No, let me in and we'll talk about it. You can't carry all your problems alone," he says causing you to stiffen.

Reluctantly, you sigh and get up from the ground. Your eyes meet Seungkwan’s lush brown irises the second the door opens. He comes in and engulfs you into a delicate embrace, rubbing your back and kissing your cheek. That's when you let it all out completely.

You cry onto his shoulder uncontrollably, but he tightens his hold on you. Now that you think of it, you feel like a bunch of lumber being chained together to keep from falling apart.

"(Y/n), what's wrong? Did they do something to you again?" He pulls away, his eyes scanning your face worriedly.

You tug him back, shaking your head. As much as it's embarrassing to know that you've already stained his shirt with tears, the crying doesn't stop. For a while, you're standing in the middle of the room, cradled in each other's arms and not letting go. Soon, the sadness turns into sniffles and you’ve calmed down a bit.

"Are you ready to talk about it now?" The tone of his voice by your ear is so timid, his breath barely grazing the skin.

"I don't know how to say it without making a racket," you reply.

"Just say what you have to." He smiles at you lovingly, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers together.

You inhale deeply then sigh.

"Today has been very... horrible. First, I forgot to bring my towel to my shower stall, so I had to wait for everyone to leave. Second, my locker got jammed. Not only was I late, but I also didn't have the materials for math class. Third, I got sent to detention for that and then Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and Jisoo had to ruin the essay I was writing. FYI, that was a punishment from Miss Kang!" You pause to catch your breath before continuing again.

"Because of that, I got mad at them. Oh! And because they shot a spitball at me, too! Fast forward to lunch, they take their petty revenge on me and thanks to them, I had to borrow an itchy uniform from the infirmary! Then here comes History where my last pen died while I was taking a quiz! And I thought it was such a good idea to borrow a pen from my seatmate, but instead, I get myself caught. Mr. Ho sends me to detention again and I fall asleep, then wake up fifteen minutes after dismissal time. Guess what? We aren't even at the best part yet!" You throw your hands up in the air in utter frustration.

"That does sound like a rough day," Seungkwan opines.

"Oh, believe me, it is," You say, rolling your eyes.

"So, what's the best part?" He shuffles closer.

"I forgot to wait for you, so I ran back in the pouring rain." You finish, shutting down the whole story.

Seungkwan stands up, and with your hand in his, you do too. He moves his palms to cup your cheeks and tilts your head to meet his eyes. The warmth of his touch makes you close your eyes and hum in content, further calming down. Before you could open your eyes again, his lips meet yours and you kiss back. When he pulls away, you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him more passionately than a while ago. If this is the only good you can get from this extremely horrible day, you’re taking every single bit of it while it lasts.

"Whoa," He gasps just as you part.

"I'm sorry, I kinda got carried away," you shyly apologise, sheepishly scratching the back of your head.

"It's alright," he says before reading the time on the clock. "You know what, after all, you've been through today, I think you deserve some rest."

You haven't had the chance to say otherwise when suddenly he’s dragging you by the arm and you let out a squeal.

"Kwannie! I still need to do my science homework!"

"For science? Nice try, but you don't have science tomorrow," he chuckles.

You puff your cheeks and glare at him.

"You look adorable when you do that, not terrifying. Now go to sleep."

"But Seung—"

"Sleep."

"Kwan—"

"You need to sleep."

You groan in defeat. 

"Fine, but only if you sleep with me." You point a finger at him. Seungkwan thinks for a while before he nods in agreement.

"Hooray!" You move over and let him lay down beside you.

"What made me do this?" He asks while getting in.

"Your love for me, duh. Now, goodnight, darling," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight to you, too. I love you," He says, pecking your nose.

You tuck into your blankets then close your eyes.

"I love you, too. And thank you for comforting me earlier,"

"You're welcome. You needed it," He replies, standing up to turn off the lights.

When he comes back to the bed, he wraps you in yet another tender embrace. You snuggle into him and bury your face into his chest, to which he responds to with a giggle.

If this is how my day ends, then I'm positively sure tomorrow is going to be a new day.

[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?”

[churchyarddirt]

Hi how are you? I would like to request a nsfw Muzan x reader. You can write it however you want (smut or lemon, whatever you feel is best), but I would appreciate if it was kinky 🙊🙈. Also maybe with demon!reader that’s not really shy and def not weak but still sub (yeah you guessed it, I like it rough and shit so yeah, they gotta keep up with demon daddy 😬🤭) I hope it requested it the right way Thank you for your time and effort 💕 have a great day! 😚

I am so sad I had to rewrite it all 😔 and thats on tumblr... anyways this will be Muzan x his enemy female demon reader, hope that sounds good!!! Also I'm so sorry if this isnt that good, I lost motivation the minute I had to rewrite it, but I missed writing for Muzan ♡

"I never thought that little plan of Douma's would work" Muzan commented, looking at your body. He adored the view.

You were pinned up against the wall by black wires that you assumed were Nakime's ability. Every limb tightly secured.

You were quite numb from the poison that you got infected by earlier, but it didnt matter. Your worst enemy was right in front of you.

Muzan slowly made his way to you, with blank expression. You were one of the lucky demons that had succeeded in regaining control from the demon lord.

Muzan didnt hate you, despite you ruining a lot of his plans, Muzan found you amusing and usefull. The taller demon craved to know how you feel, but sadly you were blind to him. He come closer, but you wore the same neutral expression, no fear or panic. And it pissed him off.

Suddenly, muzan took out massive kitchen knife and placed it against your neck "I'm quite tempted to slice it against your throat" muzan grinned as your expression finally changed and surprise erupted through your face, however, vanished as soon as sun rose up the sky and that orange-magenta colour came than disappeared.

As soon as in a matter of seconds you were back to your expressionless face.

"I'm not afraid, Kibutsuji" you declared, his name left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You felt the dagger sink deep into your skin "I know you're not afraid" Muzan admitted "so I will make you shiver" his eyes stayed locked with yours as you moaned from pain.

You quickly averted your gaze to the window, where the moon was disclosed with thick black clouds. You felt wisteria poison burn your skin and travel down your body, you could stop it. You were magnificent in blood magic, you could destroy the poison, yet you let it run down your veins like a river. It felt good.

You felt your body go more numb and numb. If you died right now, nothing would matter anymore.

You prayed that the poison would take you, yet it didnt. Muzan gently cupped your cheek and forced you to meet his gaze

"I've had my eyes on you for some time, be a good girl and stay obediently still" he taunted, his eyes drifting to your body.

Suddenly, the wires loosened up and you fell to the ground, your green kimono dangling elegantly "what are you doing...Kibutsuji" you grinned, barely able to keep your hands still

"Punishment darling" the demon's hands travelled around your shoulders, removing your clothes "if you'll promise to obey me and be a good demon, I'll be gentle" his serene voice had a hint of pity, you hated it.

You were a demon with immerse blood ability, total hydrokinesis of it.

"....hm" you hummed, passing out for a minute. You didnt know how long it has been, but you regained your body movement and half of your consciousness.

You muttered his name, making Muzan's eyes drift to you, and as soon as he did...it was over. You both were lost in a wave of lust. You always fancied the demon lord, of course you hated him, but you always wondered how being next to him would feel like...

The taller demon's lips crushed against yours. There was nothing gentle about it. Muzan was rough and harsh.

You tried to push him off but it was no use "stop resisting Y/n" he ordered, bringing your lips together. You felt cold wall against your skin as Muzan forcefully pushed you back.

From the strong impact, you couldn't help but to gasp, and in that brief momment, scarlet-eyed demon entered your mouth. His tongue felt embarrassingly good to touch.

"I-Im gonna invert your ribcage" you hissed at him, but the Male only griped your scalp and pushed your head against the wall, you let out small yelp

"Next time scream harder" he suggested with sinister smirk this time.

Muzan's hands were now places to your chest, since you tried to fight back he ordered Nakime to pin your hands to the wall. You were helpless. You noticed that the demon untied your kimono and left you with bare legs and upper body, only waist was covered. Barely.

"You'll call me lord Kibutsuji from now on" once his words finished, he squeezed your breast, you tried to lock your lips and not satisfy his needs but the more he teased your nipple's the more wet you got.

"I hope you...." you tried to give a smart comeback but nothing came out, it was embarrassing. Your breath hitched as you desperately tried to hold back your moans.

The male griped your chin, forcing you to humm, so briefly and seductively

- what do we say now? Y/n?

-....Fuck off - you hissed and almost gasped how Muzan lowered his head to your chest. Your eyes gave off chilly waves of terror and aghast, just like he liked.

Muzan smirked before licking your nipple, and with out warning, biting it gently...then harshly. Your cries and yelps were pleasant to him.

You started to shake and whine against him "P-Please, Lord Kibutsuji...i...I will behave, I prom-promise" your sentence ended with moan.

"That's what I'd liked to hear" you heard his voice in your head, did he gain control over you so quickly?

Muzan spread your legs over your hands, you didnt even realise how wet you got at this moment, you always knew Muzan was attractive but right now, it was ravishing.

His loose black hair tickled your stomach, as he slowly lowered himself closer to your pussy, for a brief momment, the room was filled with your panting breathing, not wasting much time, muzan got his tongue out, and licked your clit.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn't hold your moans back, the Male was too good. He was old demon with amazing experience, so you weren't surprised that he made you feel THIS good.

You closed your eyes, you swore that you saw white all over "I..really really want you inside me" you moaned, instantly regretting your words, he was an enemy after all...yet you were so quick to fall into his trap.

But it was too late, you were deep into lust and desire.

Muzan bit your lip, you squeezed his head between your thighs, you were so close to cumming, he knew that.

And that's why he stopped.

You hummed in sorrowful tone, the Male positioned his posture to align with yours "spread your legs open" he ordered, after licking his lips seductively off your juice

You glared at the demon, obeying his orders and letting your legs open up even more wider

Muzan allowed his thumb inside you, you couldn't describe the tension that you felt, this sudden and deep wave of euphoria, you felt so good you could scream. Your vision dimmed.

"Muzan...I think I'm passing out again" the older Male chuckled, as the tip of his dick was rubbing against your entrance, slowly and teasingly "you were meant to be asleep, after all, I didn't intend on keeping you awake, you're stronger than I thought" the Male admitted

"M-Muzan...I-" the Male corrected you "Lord muzan" his voice was raucous and deep, he was so eager to make you his "if I pass out..will...no" you uttered to yourself, getting lost in your head, before Muzan pressed your body against the cold minka wall.

This way, he entered his whole length inside of you, making you wiggle a bit "it's fine...its better for you to sleep" he explained, slowly brushing your hair before sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

"M-mu...m~" you tried to moan his name, but all that was in your head was this hunger, Muzan starts to move and you couldnt help but to roll your eyes.

He was perfect, a being close to perfection.

You passed out soon after, but you knew that he would take care of you. After that night, you became his. His only.

It wasnt planned, but you both knew you wouldnt be able to forget each other, any time soon.

[purplecantaloupe]

**gif is not mine**

i was reading a calum fic just now and thought back to my old writings which sprung this idea in my head and i had to whip my laptop out and get to work. the lowercase and awkward grammar is intended ig i hope you enjoy <3

i had previously written a request for fwb!cal and as my mom would say “not my best work” but as i would say “it fucking sucked balls” so im making this kind of the rewrite for that monstrosity.

anon, if youre out there this is for you bby i hope this satisfies your soul <33

Explanation: so basically this is fwb!cal along with sub!cal and a bit of femdom!y/n which y/n gets pissed off that calum won’t interact with her, conflict/resolution as some might say.

Warnings: femdom!y/n; sub!cal; this is a WHOLE lotta smut, a few minutes of angst here and there, and a little fluff at the end (bc who doesn’t love a happy ending?)

Also I’m sorry for the spacing, I really don’t know what happened there :/

it was the last straw with calum, he’d been constantly on his phone the whole day and since it had been pouring outside for the most part you couldn’t go nurture your garden like you had intended. all day he’d been sitting and giggling at his phone, maybe the boys sending him some stupid texts or maybe it was some of his fans tagging him in memes on twitter, who the fuck knows but y/n was thoroughly annoyed. being stuck in the house all day with calum and not interacting physically with him had gotten to you, he hadn’t even said a word to you since breakfast! you even asked if he wanted to fuck around just to pass the time away and he just shook his head and mumbled out a, “not in the mood.” needless to say, you were irritated. so irritated to the point that you stood up from your comfortable position on the couch with a huff, stalking to your room and shut the door with your foot before laying face down on your bed, finally being engulfed in silence from his constant snickers and you could hear the rain hitting your bedroom window as it gave you a sense of serenity.

after lying on your bed for what felt like maybe ten minutes, you hear the front door open and shut, assuming that calum went out for a smoke. this was the time that you took to go out and grab as many snacks and anything that you’d need for the whole night, having the whole weekend off from work, you decided that you’d be staying in your room, giving calum a taste of his own medicine. after raiding your shared kitchen, you head back to your bedroom and decide to find something on netflix to watch and drown out calum when he comes back.

after awhile of mindlessly watching something on netflix for who knows how long, you hear the door open and shut and a couple pairs of feet walking around downstairs before they make their way up them and pass your room. feminine giggles erupt from the stranger and you hear calum’s door shut and you knew exactly what was going to happen in the next few minutes. you thanked every god above that you couldn’t hear what they were doing behind the closed bedroom door, every now and then you could hear a squeal from the end of the hall which only made you turn your television up louder.

you and calum made the agreement when you started your friends with benefits situation, you would be allowed to see other people and do whatever you wanted but you had to have some type of respect for the other; if you had another friend over, you’d be considerate and let the other person know ahead of time. to which he did not inform you that he was having a friend come over. you’d tried earlier to get it on but he rejected you which made your mood skyrocket into the ground along with your heart. it wasn’t calum’s rejection that stung you but the fact that he wouldn’t even give you the time of day without letting out a sigh and mumbling an answer before giggling at his screen again. suddenly it dawned on you, he wasn’t giggling at his phone because the guys of his fans were being funny, no, he was giggling because he was texting the girl that is probably laying in his bed right now, in the same spot you were lying in just the night before. the sounds have subsided but the ache in your heart stayed the same, ‘guess the last few months have just been time wasted that you could’ve been spending on somebody else’ you thought.

this was an all new low for calum, sure you’d had your fair share of other hook-ups but they never were there when calum was home, you had respect for him and yourself but apparently the feelings weren’t reciprocated. the message has been heard loud and clear. he didn’t care about you nearly as much as you care about him.

you hear silence from calum’s side of the hall which you take as a sign they’ve both passed out to which you make a break for it. jogging down the stairs and to your car through the rain that still hasn’t let up, you climb in the vehicle and you’re on your own to find yourself a meaningless hookup.

-

about an hour later you have your side piece’s head between your thighs as you’re belting out every curse word you can think of, your mind racing through nothing but tunnels as your vision darkens sans the stars you see around your head. jason was the nicest man you’d met since you moved to los angeles, he knew how to treat a woman’s body but also how to make you feel like you were floating. of course you two didn’t go farther than just sex, jason didn’t want a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship and you had calum at home so nothing would come of this affair.

jason came up and pressed his lips to yours, laying one hand up next to your head and the other was laying between your folds, collecting your orgasm before pulling away slightly and inserting his pointer finger into his mouth and sucking you off of him before he slides his middle finger into your mouth letting you both have a taste before you attach tongues again, tasting you with a bit of mint thrown into the mix. he pulls his fingers out of you mouth to blindly slide a condom on, never breaking the kiss before he slides himself in your tight walls then returns his hand to the side of your face. he definitely wants as big as calum is but he definitely knows how to use his cock, swirling his hips to make a beautiful rhythm between your bodies. much to your demise he pulls his mouth away from yours and attaches it to your neck and toying with your breasts with his free hand. he bit and nibbled on your neck, making sure to keep you stimulated, earning light squeals from you as he gently bit your throat then swirled his tongue to soothe the sting, though his hips never faltering. your hands were buried in his hair, tugging when he would do something you particularly liked which made him want to burst right there. jason was a peculiarly attractive man, he had long enough brown hair that you could grab ahold of and tug on as much as you wanted to, (calum’s was long enough to pull but you couldn’t really get a good grip on it) his eyes were a deep shade of emerald but he never really kept eye contact long enough for you to notice the little specks like calum’s deep brown eyes when the sun hits them just right you can see the flecks of yellow and almost auburn. jason’s hands were smaller than calum’s, he could hold your whole breast in his hand while jason’s hand was smaller and his fingers didn’t reach quite the same spots inside of you as calum’s long digits do.

jason’s hips practically had a mind of their own filling you up deliciously downstairs while his hands and mouth explored your upper body, never staying in one place which had your mind reeling.

by the time you both spilled over the edge, you were putty in his hands, despite your body’s buzzing of the aftershock, you gave jason a wave and jogged to your car from the rundown apartment building that jason lived in, he’s a messier man than calum ever could be, never really cleans up after himself. you would never judge somebody for their income or their living style but having known ahead of time you’d expect him to clean up a little before you’d arrive… maybe he did, that thought alone sent shivers down your spine. the fact there were multiple pizza boxes and other pieces of garbage lying around the living room as you two were walking through to the bedroom; calum was one to always make sure that if anyone was coming over, even if the maid he’d hired came over, he’d always make sure the house was presentable.

once you left jason’s and embarrassingly compared him to your other affair, you decided to go to home, making sure once you parked that you didn’t see his friend’s car there, which you didn’t and you walked up to your bedroom. on the way through the house you noticed calum sitting on the couch with his phone in his hands and his attention on the television, he hadn’t even acknowledged that you were home. you silently scoffed to yourself before shaking your head and ascend up the stairs to your room. in the moment you found yourself wanting calum to want you.

you found (in your opinion) your sexiest bra and panty set that you were aware that calum hadn’t known about; he never needed to know about your lingerie collection due to never having to really seduce him, he was the one who always started things off and tonight that was going to change. for once in you and calum’s relationship, you were the one who was going to show him the ropes, you are going to be in control. once you were satisfied in your outfit choice, you went to your bathroom and showered jason’s funk and sweat off of you then made your way to your bedroom, and made sure you had moisturized yourself before blow drying your hair and making it look almost as if you actually were trying to get calum’s attention, which you were but you wanted the fact to be subtle. you changed and slid a long white shirt on top that was almost see through which you most definitely could see the dark blue lace of the lingerie which complimented your skin almost too well.

you made your way downstairs, the first floor being lit up by the spotlights on the ceiling as well as the tv, calum’s head was still watching the show he was so invested in until you walked past the screen and turned to look at him innocently. you turned back around to the dvd movies under the tv cabinet and bent over, your behind stuck out from under the shirt just enough that calum could see what you were wearing underneath. calum let out an annoyed sigh as he craned his neck to keep watching his show as you picked out a random movie. you stood tall and looked at him with all of the pent up annoyance you’d suffered with all day.

“calum what the fuck is up with you today?” you say almost yelling.

his reaction was only making you angrier by the second, he barely even moved a muscle he just shrugged one shoulder and put his eyes back on the screen. you tightened your grip on the dvd case before you stood directly in front of him to block his view to which he just looked down at his phone and started scrolling through any form of social media. you grabbed his phone and laid it on the table, despite your subconscious saying to throw it as hard as you could against the wall, it fell to the table with a light clunk noise. you leaned over in front of him, hands on either side of the chair he was sitting in, giving him a good view down the front of your shirt but he stared past your eyes to the wall behind you. you gently but firmly took his chin between your thumb and index fingers and turned his face to look at you, which he looked into your eyes for a brief moment before he averted them to your legs.

“calum i swear to god if you don’t fucking look at me i’m gonna go batshit,” you say, your hands trembling with rage. “please just tell me what’s wrong, i can’t take this,” your voice cracks towards the end and you damn your genes for making you so sensitive during confrontation.

calum heard your voice crack and he looked at you, finally saying a real sentence to you, which broke the crack to your heart and shattered you like the porcelain doll that was your heart.

“we need to end things,” he simply said.

the dvd in your hands clattered to the floor and duke ran over and started sniffing to inspect it; this was your first time seeing duke all day despite your heart shattering you would’ve scooped him up and rubbed his ears like he loves. your eyes never left calum’s and vice versa. he could see your heart shattering and his was cracking straight down the middle, he never thought that this day would come but he finally found a girl that he thinks could be the one he could finally settle down with and open his heart to, that girl wasn’t you though, so he had to take the first step into winning this woman over.

“it’s her isn’t it? the bird that you had over here today?” she says, tears threatening to fall but staying at bay until calum’s nod confirms her heartbreak, the tears fall just as the pieces of her heart fail to stay together.

“can she fuck you better than i can?” y/n says confidently, despite the tears making paths along her cheeks. calum was stunned, he’d never heard such words come from y/n, even in the hottest moments of passion. she kept her eyes on his as she slowly climbed up into his lap and sat upon his thighs, caging him into his seat. “come on cal, tell me, i’m the only one who can get you this hard, i know how to make you feel good. come on baby, tell me and i’ll give you what you want, i’ll make you feel so fucking good.” he had to avoid her eyes otherwise he’d give in, those were his weakness, the eyes were the windows to the soul and y/n’s was bared to him, he was totally under her spell as he felt his hands going up her waist, meaning to push her off but only brought her lips to his. the day’s activities truly only made him want her more, he’d never wanted to hurt y/n by giving her the silent treatment but he had no idea how to bring up the fact that he wanted to start dating someone, for real. having fucked mariah only made him want y/n more and her words, those damn naughty words only made him realize just how much this situation meant to him, sure he wasn’t in love with y/n, no but she meant so much to him that he couldn’t even remember the other woman’s name with y/n on top of him. y/n made him weak and she knew it.

“p-please,” he whimpered which made y/n smirk, he hated that she had so much power over him. she on the other hand was loving the fact that she was the alpha right now.

“please what? baby, i need to hear your words, what to you want?” y/n knew exactly what she was doing, calum had done this same taunting to her many times. she wasn’t going to let calum get away this easily, this entire relationship was built on sex and this was the way she was going to win him back.

“w-want your mouth, your pussy, your hand, a-anything, please, love.” calum’s brain was swimming, he didn’t even know the words that were coming out of his mouth, his mind was in overdrive and she was driving him even further up the wall.

“should i give you what you want? i think you’ve been quite naughty, think you can get rid of me that easily? you’d be mistaken,” y/n continues, grinding herself down on cal’s cock, keeping a steady rhythm. she was not going to let her emotions and need get to her this time, she was in control for once and she wanted to revel in it.

once feeling y/n grinding down on him, he laid his head in the crook of her neck, whimpering as the uncomfortable hardening in his pants. his hands were attached to her hips like glue, trying to get her to move faster against him, anything to cause friction, y/n took the opportunity while he was distracted to take her long shirt off and show him her set. y/n’s breasts were perfectly hung in the push up bra, her tits almost spilling out, causing calum to stare at them as they bounced with her movements. he set his hands lower to grab onto her lace-clad ass and grip it tightly before laying a quick spank to it before he massaged his hands over both cheeks again to soothe the sting. her whimper was heard through the apartment just louder than the tv was playing, sending a rush of blood to calum’s cock and wetness to pool in her panties.

much to calum’s demise she climbed off of calum, her tits directly in his face and he sent his tongue out to get any bit of skin he could reach. she grabbed a throw pillow off the couch and sat on her knees in front of calum, her mouth watering at the sight of him hardening by the second, who knew calum was such a sub.

y/n gently tugged on calum’s shirt and he quickly pulled it off before she leaned up and kissed his chest gently, running her bottom lip all the way up. he tilts his head back as she uses her tongue to lead her mouth to his then leaned up and pecked his lips all so gently. if he was going to end this, she wanted to make the most of it. he of course kissed her back, grabbing the sides of her neck gently to keep her still for him, savoring the taste of her lips. they pulled away at the same time, breathless, and y/n went to work, she grabbed onto the waistband of his boxers, careful not to pinch his skin and gently peeled the boxers down to reveal him. she kissed his tip then bit her lips, licking the bit of precum off her mouth before her throat worked and spit into her hand, bringing it up to him and pumped the bit of his shaft closest to his balls before she took the head in her mouth and sucked and licked the tip, making sure he was lubricated. his head was spinning at the feeling of her mouth on him, she was an expert on calum’s body and they both knew it. she pulled off a bit before looking up at him,

“if you try to fuck my face, i wont let you cum at all tonight,” her eyes teary but dark and full of dominancy—he’d never seen this side of y/n before—he nodded and looked at her like a little kid, agreeing to anything if she’d keep going. she then bottomed him out, both of her hands on either of his thighs, taking him all the way in her mouth and sitting there for a second before coming back up for air, then doing the same, her nose touching his pelvis, breathing in and then out before pulling off of him, a trail of spit connecting her mouth to his cock. The gags and deep breaths coming for y/n make calum come back to reality, her head bobbing at almost a professional pace, he grabbed onto her hand and tugged on it, she shook her head as if to say that she wasn’t done, he tugged on her once more before she pulled off of him and swallowed the mix of precum and spit on her tongue.

“what?” she breathed and before she could say anything else, he motioned for her to come to him, his mouth attaching to hers, this kiss was something neither of them had experienced with each other before, both of them feeling more than just the heat of the moment passion, this kiss was a knee weakening, heart stopping, head spinning passion that they’d never shared before. y/n grabbed onto his face and they slowly stood up with each other, calum wrapping his arms around her thighs and she jumped up onto his torso, their clammy skin acting as glue to hold them together. calum carried her all the way up the stairs, practically kicking y/n’s door in and then shut it by pressing her against it. the kiss was never broken, neither of them wanted to ruin this moment, y/n’s dominant nature, calum’s conflicted mindset and both of their needs to please each other. he peeled her from the coolness of the door and her back was met with the soft fabric of the quilt on top of her bed. her hips were reaching to meet his, and he had to break the kiss, her back was caving a little so they could meet their foreheads,

“i’m never leaving you,” calum whispered as he looked deep into her irises, something only calum did when he was serious, her heart was slowly piecing back together. something told her that he meant more than he was saying but now was not the time. she gently pushed him up and laid him down against her quilt, climbing on top of him and his hands found their favorite place between her hips and her ribs, “please ride my face baby, i need to taste you.” calum whimpered at her and look up at her with almost child-like puppy dog eyes.

“how could i say no,” she whispered and stood up on her bed, looking down at him before sliding her blue laced panties down her legs and threw them across the room, moving up the bed and finding herself sitting right above his mouth and as soon as she was within reach, he was aiming her hole right above his mouth, his breath fanned over her wetness, cooling her heat off as he did and his tongue shot up stiff and flat as he licked a strip up her slit. he slid his hands up from her thighs, grazing her ass before holding onto her lower back holding onto her tightly as if she’d float away. she ground her hips against his mouth, eliciting little whimpers from her mouth, her left hand finding his short hair and her right flew to the headboard, knuckles turning white as her vision went black, her head flew up to face the ceiling, using the headboard to keep her grounded as he sucked on her clit, nipping at it a bit which made her let out a loud squeal of his name and a string of curses. calum seeing and hearing that made him never want it to stop, he made sure to nibble her clit once more. y/n had to do something, she wasn’t on earth, she was on cloud fucking nine and she had to ground herself, she reached behind her and grabbed onto his cock, pumping her fist rapidly before she struck an idea.

“cal, cal ssss-stop,” she hissed and he immediately thought something was wrong, he looked up at her with glossy eyes.

“are you okay, what did i do?” he whispered and gently pushed her up to look at her, this was the same way he’d always done it and he was scared that he’d hurt her.

“nothing, you did absolutely nothing wrong, that was… perfect. i want to try something, if you’re down.” she said and slowly moved down from near his mouth. he looked at her wearily and nodded.

“will it hurt?” he whispered, holy shit he was so fucking cute right now. looking like a little puppy that lost his way home.

“no baby, i want to try a sixty-nine, we’ve never done it before and i want to make you feel good, while you’re making me feel good,” she says and turns around in the reverse cowgirl position but over his mouth, she looks down at him through her legs and he nods for her to sit down. she slowly sits on his mouth and he immediately starts licking and sucking at her hole and her clit simultaneously which sent her almost flying as she bucked her back involuntarily. she leaned down and kissed his tip once again, sending a wave through him which only got better as she sunk down on him, her chin grazing his lower abdomen. she let out a gag noise and gargled in her throat to keep her esophagus calm, calum practically came just from the friction and the noises she was making also from her own pleasure. she sat up pulled herself off of his tongue and turned around, “such a pretty boy,” she whispers and runs her finger down his cheek gently, “put your arms up here,” y/n says a little louder. she sits upon his sternum, taking his hands in hers and laid small pecks on his knuckles before she raised them above his head, laying them on the posts of her headboard, “keep your hands here,” she whispers. calum nods and follows her orders. his grip tightens when she runs her fingernail gently up his sensitive shaft, he gasps and bites his lip.

“please baby, i need it,” calum whimpers and looks down at her. the smirk on her face makes calum almost angry, they both know that he’s putty and she’s drinking it up shamelessly.

“are you my little slut? thinking that you can fuck another girl in our house while i’m just down the hall?” she whispers through her teeth, anger just at her surface. “do you think you should be punished for being a little slut?” y/n says, her fingernail still grazing his swollen cock. calum’s brain quite literally cant form a full sentence, y/n’s words, her touch, his guilt, his brain is swimming in mush.

“please mama, punish me,” he whimpers “i’ve been so fucking bad,” he grips the posts tight, his knuckles turning white.

“roll over and lay on your stomach, hands go back just as they were,” she commands and sits up to let him roll over, even though she’s showing dominance she’s still trying to be gentle, calum thought. he feels a sting on his bare ass along with a loud smack. he grips the posts in his hands and bites his lip, his gasp is the only thing that is heard in the silence of the room. y/n gains a little confidence and slaps his ass again, biting her lip as she watches it bounce against the friction of her hand.

“such a bad boy,” she whispers into his ear. she’s leaning beside his head, looking him directly in the eyes. cal’s face flushes and she leans down to kiss his cheek, “if any of this is overwhelming in anyway, please tell me to stop,” she says, totally serious and runs her hand through his hair gently. he nods and she leans down to peck his lips softly.

“please keep going,” he whimpers against her mouth, “been so bad i need to be reprimanded,” he says, shooting her a smirk.

y/n goes back between his legs, toying with his balls, laying another smack on his ass, making his body jolt up. she sits up, spreading his ass cheeks and spits a wealthy amount onto his puckered hole, he lets out a high pitched whimper while he anticipates her next move. looking up at him as she uses her hand that is free from his sack and uses her thumb to spread her saliva around, lubing him up nicely. she looks up at him for approval to keep going which he grants quickly. her thumb dips into his tight asshole, he lays his head into her pillows, tightening his grip on her bed posts and shuts his eyes as she stretches him out.

“holy shiiiiiit,” he whimpers after he turns his head back to try to get a glance at her. she slides her thumb out making calum whimper at the loss but is quickly reassured as she slides her pointer finger in, sucking his balls into her mouth, his brain is overwhelmed with pleasure and all his body can do is spasm at her touch. his orgasm just around the corner. y/n knows his body language too well and can tell that he’s so close. she doesn’t want him to release just yet.

“so needy,” y/n says and bites onto his ass cheek. “think you’ve been punished enough?” she asks leaving one last smack on his ass before she nudges his hip for him to roll over.

he immediately rolls onto his back and tries to grip her hair, wanting some type of control which she slaps his hand. hard. “hands back up…” she says taking his wrists and leans him up back to the posts “...and lean up against the headboard,” she adds and helps him sit up, “I’m gonna ride you, keep your hands on the posts.” he nods, his ability to conversate has gone out the window along with his sobriety. y/n is his drug and he’s an addict.

she reaches up onto her headboard to use as leverage before she turns around, getting in the reverse cowgirl position then she aligns herself and slides down on his cock, sighing at how he fills her up perfectly.

calum can’t stop staring at her ass bouncing deliciously on his cock, the way she wraps around him so tightly. her movements start to speed up as his cock is hitting her spongy button, her body writhing above his. she’s using her hands to keep her leverage which gives calum the best angle, his moans mixing with hers.

“fuck, your pussy swallows my cock so good, always,” he whimpers which brings y/n so close to her edge.

“oh my god i’m so close, fuck,” she moans out, he takes her vulnerability as a chance as he takes his hands off of the posts, lifting her ass up and starts fucking up into her, her screams start flowing out like water. he pulls her back against his front, bringing his hand up to her throat squeezing just enough to make her breathing labor.

she starts grinding down on him, pushing his cock into her g-spot and she’s done for, her orgasm takes her over as she gasps. his hand moves from her throat to her breasts, swallowing them with his hands and before he can comprehend the squeezing and clenching of her pussy, he’s releasing inside of her, both of them trembling as she leans back against him and he leans against the headboard, both catching their breaths.

“you think you can just leave me for somebody else? we both know damn well that nobody else can fuck you like that,” she whispers, her head leaning against his shoulder. he shakes his head with a breathless chuckle, his mind still in subspace.

“god i love you,” he whispers, biting his lip.

“calum-“ you start to which he interrupts.

“no, y/n nobody cares like you, nobody loves like you, nobody feels like you. you are the most unique person i’ve ever met; I don’t want anybody else to have you and I don’t want to have anybody else.” he says and runs his hand up your leg and intertwines your fingers.

“are you just saying this stuff because you’re still in subspace?” you whisper, giggling a little making you clench around him which makes both of you let out a little moan at the realization that he’s still inside of you.

“no, i’ve been thinking about this for a while, i tried to distract myself with other girls but i physically cant fathom not having you in my life,” he says. your heart stops and you look back at him, biting your lip, your mouth not being able to move.

calum, Calum, calum, Calum Hood, the man that you had moved in with when you moved to los angeles, the man who so graciously took you out your first night and there you met jason. you’d drunkenly stumbled into him and made a complete fool out of yourself, he thought you were charismatic and gorgeous so after sharing a drink or two, you exchanged numbers and the rest was history. if it weren’t for calum, you wouldn’t have met him. if you didn’t have that same night, all those drinks with jason, you and calum wouldn’t have started this whole situation together, you two wouldn’t be here. right now. together. his cock still inside you, warming and filling you up. that first time that you two shared wasn’t only the first for you two, it was the first time for you in general. he was your first and your last (a couple in between but we won’t ruin the moment). he was your first passionate kiss as well, even though you shared it just an hour ago. now you can see, he’s the only man you could ever see or think about. in a crowded club, on stage, in your house, in your bed, he consumed you.

“y/n please say something,” he says his voice low, nervous, he brings you out of your thoughts. you literally couldn’t say anything so you did the next best thing, you reach around yourself and cup the side of his face, looking into his eyes—your favorite color—then kiss him, the most magical, sparkle between the two of you had lit. You lift yourself off of him, causing yourself to whimper into his mouth at the emptiness in your abdomen before you turn fully around climbing onto your knees, feeling a subtle drip between your legs. he wraps his arms around your waist and he sits up with you, reciprocating the kiss as well not daring to break it. he runs his hand up your clammy back and gently lays you back into the bed, your hands burying themselves into his hair out of muscle memory.

cal runs his hands down your front, gently taking your breasts into his hands then runs his mouth down to your neck, leaving love marks into your tender skin. your eyes roll to look at the ceiling, calum’s touch so gentle like he’s afraid he’d break you. you both were so fragile, so vulnerable. his mouth taunts at your right nipple, his hips grinding down into your core. the heat rising in your stomach, you whimper into the quiet air.

“calum, come here,” you whisper, your hand tugging on his hair and he lifts himself up, his mouth hovering over yours.

“yes?” he whispers, his lips grazing over yours and his breath fans over your lips and chin.

“i love you,” you whisper. he chuckles, his smile bright and his eyes squint. you meet him in the middle as he kisses your lips, both of your tongues dancing together.

he pulls away just for a second to look into your bright eyes—full of love and lust— for your consent. with a gentle nod he slides himself in once more, filling you up even more than before the extra full feeling being your newfound love.

you suddenly feel just how sensitive you were which causes a whimper to escape your mouth and your pussy to clench around him. he groans in your ear at the friction and he bites onto your earlobe.

his hips start thrusting at a faster pace, knowing neither of you were going to last much longer due to the sensitivity you both were sharing. he swivels his hips just at the right angle causing him to hit your g-spot and you let out a yelp.

“oh god yes, please cal, fuck me,” you whimper, he obliges. his hips going on the same route to meet your g-spot with his tip repeatedly, each time you clench around him. he goes even harder and faster until he has you seeing stars, your eyes meeting as you feel a snap in your abdomen, your body convulsing under him at the same time he snaps as well climaxing inside of you, his hand coming up to meet yours beside your head, intertwining your fingers and squeezing.

as he pulls out you both wince and he lays down next to you. he pulls you into his side and lays a kiss where your shoulder and neck meet. you smile dazed and hum intertwining your fingers with the hand that’s wrapped around your waist. he outstretches your hands and plays with your fingertips, making you giggle.

“i love you,” you whisper.

calum hums, “say it again,” he whispers.

“i love you… i love you, i love you, i love you,” you whisper right back and he smiles against your shoulder, looking at your hands as he still plays with your fingers.

“i love you, too,” he whispers and lays another kiss against your neck.

he was also your first love...

[theknightoflameblogs]

Dinner Date? (AOS Spock x Reader)

A/N: I think this may just be a part one, I do want to continue the story but I was more eager to see if people were interested first. Also this is meant to be read with either a female, male, or non-binary reader! I have been wanting to do a Spock x Reader for awhile now, this is my first time writing one! Enjoy!

Summary: After being hospitalized (and passing out) in Sickbay from a dumb choice you made while on mission, you are surprised to find that Commander Spock had stayed by your side while you slept.

Word Count: 3,338

Warning: Swearing and a sarcastic Bones and cute moments

---

“Shit. Shit. Holy- FUCK!” Was all you could manage to say as a sharp pain twisted into your side. You were currently in Sickbay after having collapsed on the floor just outside of the bridge, nearby crewmen immediately rushed you to a not-so-happy Dr. McCoy.

“Damn it, man, I told you not to eat that planet’s weird berries!” McCoy said in a frustrated tone as he pulled out his scanner. “It’s only been what- two hours? And you are already showing symptoms of infection in your abdominal region that would usually take years to develop!”

“How can you be so sure…” You breathed, gripping at your stomach which started to cramp. “...that it was the berries?”

“Mm, I dunno (Y/N), maybe because of the fact that Jim and I had no berries whatsoever and we seem to be doing perfectly fine. It’s no coincidence, damn it!”

Nausea passed over your body in massive waves, you applied pressure via your fingertips between the two tendons on your wrist in an attempt to get the feeling to cease. You remembered seeing this technique in an article somewhere, but you were pretty sure that the article didn’t take into account your situation. “Well the natives said... that eating the berries was a sign of a... good spirit… a way to connect with them. It’s called respecting...tradition. Something you and the Captain… refused to do.” The fact that it was taking so much energy to construct sentences both amazed and horrified you.

“Maybe those berries weren’t meant for humans.” McCoy grunted, walking out your line of sight. “Just because you're some diplomat representing all of Starfleet doesn’t mean you have to go around eating weird foods for the sake of tradition.”

“Bones,” You declared. “I could really do without the lecture right now.” You only felt worse the longer you laid there, your forehead broke out into a sweat and your face grew hot. You pictured McCoy getting his instruments together from the sound of metal clinking against metal, at least that is what you hoped he was doing.

“Alright! Alright, hold on…” He said, fumbling with what sounded like a plastic bag. “Damn... what would that green-blooded hobgoblin think of this?”

“You mean Commander Spock?” You asked, even though you understood what he meant. “What does he have to do with-” a sharp sting entered the side of your arm as your asshole-of-a-friend, and trusted doctor, injected you with a large syringe. “-Oh, what the hell was that?!”

“That-” McCoy said, holding up the syringe defiantly, “-just saved your life. Well, maybe. Give it an hour or two, your fever should already be going down. The pain will subside in no time.”

“Jesus, Bones, you could have at least warned me before stabbing my arm!"

“Well it’s not supposed to hurt so much without a warning.” You heard him say, but you were more focused on the white walls within the Sickbay, which were beginning to blur into everything else until it became one muddy display. It made your eyelids feel heavy.

“Everything is so abstract looking…” You said half-consciously, watching as different colors danced in front of your vision.

“Well I’m no Picasso, much less a painter,” You heard him say, or maybe you just imagined it. It didn’t matter though, seeing as all the sounds and sights were becoming one big jumble. It didn’t stay this way for long before everything went completely black.

You have been abroad upon the Enterprise for almost a year now, part of its five-year intergalactic planetary voyage. As a Starfleet diplomat, you were stationed on the bridge and tasked with regulating Starfleet protocol and managing peace-treaties and negotiations. Through this job, you befriended many on the Enterprise, especially those stationed on the bridge with you. You were quick to become friends with the notorious (or so he thought) Captain Kirk, as well as others like Lieutenant Uhura and the pilots, Mr. Sulu and Chekhov.There were even people beyond the bridge like Mr. Scotty down in Engineering who you managed to get well acquainted with. You were simply amazed by all these different and infatuating personalities you had come to know, but there was one person- or rather, an alien- who you had come to admire the most aboard your time here.

Commander Spock.

You were only to report on the bridge three days out of the week, the rest of your time was spent helping to ease the tension between antsy crewmen who were getting themselves into disputes and fistfights (even though it was not in your pay grade, and was sure as hell not part of your job description either) and even assisting the Chief Officers in preparation for meetings in the department they resided over (which was part of your pay grade).

It was a small attraction… at first.

The Enterprise was only four months into its five-year voyage whenever the Captain tasked you to assist in preparing and partaking in an introductory meeting (really it was more of a banquet) for the Science Department. The last two months had already taken up your time with meetings (*banquets) in other departments: speaking on behalf of Starfleet, introducing yourself to the staff and crew, helping them adjust to life aboard a starship, answering to millions upon millions questions and concerns. Today would be no different, or so you thought.

You entered the science lab with a clipboard full of notes you were preparing to say in your speech. Contrary to others’ belief, you never used the same speech twice, you took too much pride in your work to do so- except for those few rush jobs where the only thing you managed to have on hand was a speech about how cute yet terrifying Tribbles were. The memory of all those confused faces in the crowd during a Starfleet conference still haunted you to this day. The Admiral was to say, in the very least, displeased.

Awaiting by a table of fliers was the Enterprise’s chief science officer. His back had been turned to you when you entered the lab, and he was still unaware of your presence as you drew closer to him.

“Commander.” you greeted, yet received no reply. That was odd, with you being the only other person in the laboratory besides him, he had to have heard you. Maybe you just weren’t being loud enough. Determined, you took another step closer. “Commander!” 

Still, no reply. By now you managed to get close enough to see his face, and you were rather more perplexed to see that his eyes were closed. Odd. You weren’t well educated enough about Vulcans to know if this was some ritualistic standing sleep-like state they put themselves in, but it reminded you of a similar nature that some of the Terran animals back home displayed.

“Just like a horse…” You murmured, before slowly reaching up to touch the Vulcan’s face. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him. He stood there perfectly, his face was so mellow, so clear of emotion, he almost looked like some sort of statue…

A hand caught your wrist before a finger could even graze his cheek, a shock ran through your body, it scared the shit out of you. “What is like a horse?” Commander Spock asked, staring down at you with his full, dark eyes.

You quickly (and embarrassingly) pulled your hand away from his grip, holding it protectively close over your hammering heart. “C-Commander Spock, I-I thought you were asleep!”

“I was not sleeping.” He responded in a calm tone. He straightened his posture and placed his hands behind his back.  “I was meditating.”

“Nervous?” You asked half-jokingly. “The whole department is going to be here tonight, things can go wrong, but it will be alright.” It was apparent you were saying this more for your own benefit rather than his.

“I find it illogical to be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Based on what I could gather from your involvement in past assignments, Lieutenant. I trust you are more than qualified to execute this meeting successfully.” He replied with a small smile.

You felt your heart swell at the praise, and you smiled right back.

After that day, you and Commander Spock maintained a mutual friendship: greeting one another with a nod or smile as you passed by in the hallways or having small (but quite educational on your part) talks while riding the lift, it never went beyond that, but you didn’t mind. You felt like your growing attraction for him had to be limited in some way, seeing as his thoughts on you are nothing but platonic.

…

...Lieutenant?

Lieutenant (L/N)? Can you hear me?

You felt a rough shake of your shoulders, pulling you straight out of the darkness in a start.

“Doctor, I believe that was an unnecessary course of action. The Lieutenant was already waking up.” A familiar voice said. 

“You’re overreacting, Spock. (Y/N) needed a jumpstart.” Another voice responded.

You looked around the room quickly, watching as the blurred figures started to take appropriate shape and form. It was Dr. McCoy and Commander Spock, both peering down at you. Immediately, McCoy started to check your vitals asking you clipboard questions like: How are you feeling? Is there any pain when I do this? Commander Spock on the other hand stood idly by with his hands behind his back, his face could be read as stoic if it weren’t for the fact that his eyebrows were furrowed. It actually surprised you to see him here, but you had a feeling that it had to do with the details of your mission.

"Oh man…" you grunted as you sat up slowly. "How long was I out for?"

"Approximately for five hours and twenty-one minutes." Spock responded.

"Yeah, because (Y/N) was so worried about the exact number of minutes they missed." McCoy said with a loose smile, despite the gruff tone in his voice.

"I may not be well acquainted in human social cues, Doctor-" Spock said, turning his gaze on McCoy, "-But I believe you are using sarcasm. In your case, this would not be uncommon."

"Well good job, Sherlock. Seems you cracked the case!" McCoy said with false praise.

Spock went to open his mouth, you could tell he wanted clarification by the way his gaze narrowed, but instead, he diverted his attention back onto you. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

It was a question that surprised both you and the doctor (or maybe he always looked that confused). “I feel fine-” You said abruptly, “Well, at least I think I do. Am I, Bones?” You nervously looked over to your friend.

“Yeah, you’re fine.” McCoy responded, waving his hand casually. “All we had to do was pump your system full of antibodies and just like that, infection was gone. Thank God we aren’t living in the Dark Ages.”

The Commander approached your bedside. “It seems the berries initiated a rapid case of abdominal infection known to your species as colonic diverticulitis. It’s quickening effects seem to have caused a trauma in your nerves, specifically your sensory nerves, leading them to send incorrect signals. Which explains your disassociation with reality.”

“Alright, Mr. Know-it-all, I’m the doctor here.” McCoy said with a grumble, before addressing you. “It just means those berries infected your bowels and started blending your five senses together like one big smoothie.”

“That is rather an inaccurate description, but yes, the Doctor is somewhat correct.” A slight grimace was in Spock’s voice, causing you to smile. The two always had differentiating opinions. Watching them react to one another like highly-active mind fields was quite entertaining.

McCoy only shook his head in irritation, “Which means, (Y/N), no more eating any foreign soul-binding berries, you hear? I mean it.” He was now targeting you, which was not so entertaining.

“Okay. Okay.” You held up your hands in defeat. “I solemnly promise to never eat any foreign soul-binding berries, again.”

“Yeah, well let’s see how long that promise lasts.” He crossed his arms, before a faint smirk appeared on his face. “You know Pointy-Ears here-” he said gesturing to the Commander. “-was worried sick about you. Got here as soon as you passed out, didn’t even leave your side when writing his report to command.”

You felt your face grow hot at the news. He waited here for you? He wasn’t in the landing party with you when you beamed down onto that planet… you didn’t know how to take this news. But knowing you, you must have been overthinking it, he was just being friendly after all. Still, you had to force yourself not to cover your face in shame as you knew it was red with embarrassment. You didn’t want your friend (and doctor) or the Vulcan you had come to like so much see your flustered expression.

“I was merely concerned with the Lieutenant’s well-being, as (L/N)’s superior, I saw it only fitting to stay by their side until they got better.” You heard him say.

When you felt confident enough to look up from your bed sheets you were surprised to see Spock staring straight at you.

“Uh huh…and I’m the king of Mars.” McCoy sarcastically said with a taunting smile that you wish you could smack off his face. He probably didn’t even know what he was embarrassing you by doing this.

“Doctor, the United Martian Colonies is governed by a uniglobal government, it does not have an establish monarchy-”

“How about I get a drink, and you finish that thought later. Alright, Spock?” Bones interjected with eagerness. “(Y/N), you’re free to leave whenever. From your head to your toes, you are medically sound.”

“Thanks to you, Bones.” You replied.

“Please, it’s only my life’s work.” He said, waving his PADD up in the air knowingly. “And if you need me, which you better not, I’ll be in the bar- drinking the day away.” With that, he disappeared out the door.

You turned your attention over to Spock, who had his gaze on the door. You decided it would be best to head out as well, seeing as you couldn’t control your heartbeat, you were sure you looked like a tomato with how frequently your face was turning red. "Well I guess I’m free to leave since my doctor suggested so." You say in a means of farewell.

The bed's mattress shifted under your weight as you slowly began to peel yourself off from it, it took awhile, seeing as the way you had been laying on it for the past five hours made you stiff,

"I have to agree with the Doctor's earlier statement." Spock said, grabbing your attention. "Your actions were reckless and could have been fatal if it were not for him."

"Understood, Commander.” You responded formally as you pulled on your yellow blazer over your tank top. You felt somewhat dejected, but shook that feeling away. He was concerned because he was your commanding officer. That gesture alone should have been satisfying enough.

“I typed up a mission report and sent it to Command, they requested that you send in a report as well.”

“Thank you, Commander.” You replied, grabbing your Command insignia off of the end table before reattaching it to your uniform. “Have the natives of the planet decided whether or not to join the Federation?”

“I’m afraid I do not know. I was... preoccupied at the time.”

He must have been talking about the report. Thinking about it now, it would be best to complete yours now while it was still fresh on your mind. It was only fair to your Commander that you got it done as soon as possible. 

“Well I better head-” You started.

“Lieutenant, I was wondering-” Spock also initiated taking another step forward.

The sound of the entry door sliding open stopped you both, it was Captain Kirk.

“I heard what had happened and the natives promised-” Kirk announced as he casually walked into Sickbay. “-they did not know it was potentially fatal to us and assured- am I interrupting something here?” His nonchalant attitude formed into a more devious one as he looked between the two of you.

“Uh, no, you aren’t.” You said quickly. “What did they say?”

Kirk smirked, briefly shrugging his shoulders, before continuing on. “Well everything is all good now. Just about an hour after you were admitted into Sickbay, the natives agreed to join the Federation. Took awhile for them to decide. They sent gifts of apology to you, I had them sent to your room. Of course, if I had known that I would be receiving gifts, I would have eaten some berries too.” He said with a chuckle.

“Captain, that would be highly illogical seeing as the same berries led to the incapacitation of Lieutenant (L/N).” Spock noted matter-of-factly, making you smile a bit. It was well-known that as a Vulcan, his mind-set followed logic to its core, however you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being thoughtful. Or maybe, you were just projecting that into his words.

“And that is why I am in debt to our wonderful Lieutenant, here.” Kirk said with a dramatic bow. “Without (Y/N), the Federation would not have gained a whole planet as its ally today.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched your Captain move across the room like some Shakespearean actor (like running on his tippy-toes and bowing), you decided to play along and twirl dramatically over to him before kissing him on the cheek as though his words just meant the world to you. The scene itself caused an eyebrow-raised look from a clearly confused Spock, the expression alone made you two laugh.

“Am I missing something here?” Spock asked, looking between the two of you.

“Nope.” Kirk responded, lazily putting his arm around the Vulcan’s shoulder, “But you know what you are missing? A nice, hot meal. After such a long day, you two deserve a treat. Go grab something in the mess hall together, Captain’s orders.” He finished with a smirk, making your stomach turn. Why would he say it like that? ...Did he know you liked the Commander? But that would be impossible! You never even mentioned to anyone how you felt about Spock… Were you that obvious?

Before you could open your mouth to say anything, you saw that your Captain was already leaving the room. He turned around briefly and gave two thumbs up and an encouraging nod in your direction, but to your surprise the gesture wasn’t aimed at you, but rather.... at the Commander.

You heard a throat clear beside you and turned to see that Spock was looking you in the eyes. Like, really looking at you.

“Lieutenant...” The way his voice wavered suggested… nervousness. He knitted his eyebrows together and his posture became much more stiff, confirming your suspicions. “...do I have your permission to address you by your first name?”

You felt your cheeks burn again at his request. “You do.” Immediately his body relaxed. “May I, in turn, address you as Spock?”

“Certainly, (Y/N).” He said smoothly, you could tell he was testing out your name. You liked it.

You felt a nervousness build up within you, unsure where this conversation was leading to until Spock spoke up again.

“I would like to request your presence tonight in the mess hall for social engagement and dinner.”

And with that your heart was blown ten thousand light-years away.

“You sure our lovely Captain didn’t bribe you to say that?” You asked half-jokingly, trying not to sound like you were just melted away.

“I do not need persuasion with money or gifts to spend an evening with you.”

How he could say such things without becoming a puddle of embarrassment amazed you. You felt giddy as a warm smile spread across your lips. “Then yes, I would love to have dinner with you.”

“I’ll come by your quarters at eight.” He stated, smiling down at you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

[recurring-polynya]

Apparently, if you send someone an ask, but then deactivate your Tumblr, the ask gets deleted. I got this from our old friend k-rukias, and fortunately, I already had it copied over, but anyway, that’s why this isn’t in the standard ask format. Anyway, k-rukias, I hope you’re still out there somewhere and there’s some way you can see this!

k-rukias asked:

you grasp byakuya’s character SO PERFECTLY it always makes me laugh out loud, especially your “Uncle B” stories. i’d love it if you could write more of the kuchiki-abarai family+ichika(maybe throw in some byakuya&toshiro being bffs) I SWEAR YOU DO THE DOMESTIC GENRE SO WELL one can tell you have kiddos 🥺💕

“Give Uncle Byakuya a big hug, Ichika,” Rukia instructed, stifling a yawn. “You’ll see him again on Saturday.” Despite the cheer in her voice, the second Ichika’s tiny face was buried in Byakuya’s chest, she shot her brother a thumbs up and a quizzical look.

Byakuya gave a very firm thumbs up in return. His inconsiderate adjutant was having yet another birthday, and Rukia had asked if they might hold a small family celebration at the manor this year. Byakuya wasn’t sure why. Surely the man would prefer not to see his commanding officer on his own birthday, but Byakuya loved his sister and had made the arrangements she requested.

Ichika finished rubbing her sticky cheeks all over the silk of his kimono. “Here, Uncle B,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “It has to be just like this, okay?”

“Of course, my blossom,” he promised.

“No, it doesn’t,” Rukia mouthed to him behind Ichika’s back. “Okay, kiddo, you ready to go home and see if Daddy missed us?”

“I bet he fell asleep on the couch again!”

“We’ll find out! See you, Saturday, Brother!”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sister,” Byakuya entreated her.

“If you have any questions, please call me,” she begged. “Or send a Hell Butterfly, or however you communicate with people these days.”

“I am very good at Text Messaging,” Byakuya assured her.

Rukia gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look, which he tolerated, because she looked very much like Hisana when she made it.

“I will not have any questions.”

As his beloved sister and niece took their leave, he unfolded Ichika’s piece of paper.

He stared at it.

He had so many questions.

--

“I do appreciate that you texted before you came over,” Captain Hitsugaya informed him stonily. “But next time, could you text, like, more than a minute before you show up? Maybe wait for a reply?”

“Is now not a good time?” Byakuya asked. “Have I interrupted Squad 10 napping hours?”

“I just… would have picked up first,” Hitsugaya grumbled, trying to keep a stack of paper from falling off his desk. “And it’s always Squad 10 napping hours.”

Currently, Lieutenants Matsumoto and Kuna were sprawled out on the Squad 10 couches, snoring quite loudly.

“I have seen it worse in here,” Byakuya replied. “I am your,” he swallowed, “friend, and I accept your imperfections.”

Hitsugaya glowered at him. “What do you need?”

Byakuya spread Ichika’s instructions out on Hitsugaya’s desk. “Can you tell what this is?”

Hitsugaya’s eyes scanned the drawing: the lumpy creatures that might be rabbits, the crayon scribbles, the puddle of glitter. “Is this a test?”

“If it is, I am in danger of failing it,” Byakuya admitted.

“Ichika made this?” Hitsugaya guessed.

“I imagine the glitter gave it away.”

“Can’t you get Abarai to decipher it for you?”

“I cannot. I am hosting a ‘Surprise Birthday Party’ for him this weekend, and this represents Ichika’s vision of it. I need to identify the items in the picture so I can have them for the party.”

Hitsugaya nodded slowly. “Ah. These are probably balloons, then?”

Byakuya straightened up. “Balloons or lanterns? Or possibly the overhanging blooms of the wisteria?”

“You’re overthinking it. She’s five. It’s balloons. Can you ask Rukia?”

Byakuya’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ichika’s art style bears a certain… resemblance to her mother’s. I am worried that if I ask for help…” he trailed off.

“Gotcha,” Hitsugaya replied brusquely. He sucked his teeth, and poked a finger at the page. “Well, this is obviously Abarai.”

“Yes, he is always distinguishable by virtue of the fact that she draws him three times as large as the rest of us.”

“Also, he’s the only one with pink hair and stripes,” Hitsugaya replied, raising an eyebrow. “Oversensitive, much?”

“I am only three inches shorter than he,” Byakuya grumbled. “The hair makes him look taller.”

“You are not getting any sympathy here, give it up,” Hitsugaya grumbled back. “He’s got a hat on, I think? A party hat?”

“Yes, I did get that far. We are all wearing hats.”

“Abarai also appears to either be wearing a lei, or he is in bankai.”

“A lei?”

“A flower necklace? We should have some around here, from the last time Matsumoto threw a luau.”

“Ah, thank you,” Byakuya replied. He had not actually expected Hitsugaya to be quite this helpful, and he wondered how he was going to repay the man’s patience in this matter.

“All this stuff on the table is… food, maybe? Gosh, I cannot tell what any of this is. These things look like fish, but they’re brown… taiyaki, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, I had figured that part out as well. Even I know that taiyaki is Abarai’s preferred celebratory food. I actually have a specially made mold--”

“You should make normal ones. Fish ones.”

“He likes Admiral Seaweed taiyaki.”

“It’s the man’s birthday, don’t make him pretend to like your weird taiyaki.”

“They have more crispy bits because of the arms and legs! He told me that specifically, in a complimentary manner!”

Hitsugaya gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look. Unfortunately, the young man did not have the advantage of resembling Byakuya’s beautiful late wife.

--

Byakuya was distinctly Not Sure About This, but Hitsugaya had hit a wall and decided they needed to bring in ‘a bigger gun.’

Byakuya hadn’t actually set foot in the Squad 5 offices since Aizen’s departure. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Aizen, generally, but at least the man had a classical taste in decor. Now, his former workspace more closely resembled the interior of an eclectic Living World coffee establishment for beatniks. One wall (but not the others) was painted orange, and covered in strange, stylized art that appeared to have been done by the captain and lieutenant themselves. The rug hurt his eyes. There was a beaded curtain.

“I don’t know why you thought I was going to have any insight on this, Shirou,” Lieutenant Hinamori grumped, squinting at the picture. “Renji’s the only one who can decipher these things.”

Byakuya could not help feeling the tiniest bit smug that he was not the only one who was sassed by his loved ones.

“Well, I figured you’d been to an Abarai birthday party or two,” Hitsugaya excused.

“Yeah,” Hinamori replied. “The grown-up ones. Unless this thing over here is supposed to be a tokkuri, and Captain and Lieutenant Kuchiki are arm wrestling, I can’t help you.” She frowned. “You’ve been to an Abarai birthday party, haven’t you?”

“They’re a little wild for my blood,” Hitsugaya excused. “And nobody likes drinking around their captain. I’ve been, but I usually leave before he starts bench-pressing people.”

“There are captains who come,” Momo pointed out. “And I doubt your presence would slow Matsumoto down, anyway, she’s impervious to that judgemental thing you do with your eyebrows.” She contemplated the paper. “What are these weird marks? Is this a speech bubble?”

“We couldn’t figure those out,” Hitsugaya admitted.

“Lemme take a look,” Captain Hirako, who was unfortunately present, announced. “Sometimes you gotta look at things from a different perspective.”

He turned the paper upside down. He turned it backwards. He turned it right side up, and turned his head sideways.

“I got nothing,” he replied. “Kid’s got good style though. And I think Momo may be onto something, actually. I went to Abarai’s last birthday party, and Kuchiki the Younger beat me at arm wrestling in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

“It’s your noodle arms, sir,” Hinamori supplied. She stuck out her lower lip. “A different perspective, though, is not a bad idea. You know who you should go ask?”

Byakuya did not want to hear the answer.

--

“This is dango. This is katsudon. This is shaved ice.”

Byakuya was frantically taking notes.

“How… how can you tell?” Hitsugaya gaped.

Hachigou Nemuri regarded him with her serious, dark green eyes. “I have seen many of Abarai-chan’s drawings.”

Akon made a grumbling noise. “Abarai-chan’s drawing fuuuuu---udged up Nemu’s image recognition subroutines for months. I mean, it was a good thing, in the long run, I ended up implementing an entire art appreciation suite of dynamically created subroutines. It took me forever to figure out why she couldn’t recognize normal drawings of things, though.”

“What are these marks?” Byakuya asked, pointing to the funny squiggles hanging above everyone’s heads.

“Abarai-chan can’t write yet,” Nemu explained.

“Yes, I know that,” Byakuya replied.

“Writing is a form of communication that utilizes mutually understood symbols to convey an idea from one party to another,” Nemu recited. “Abarai-chan does not yet grasp the importance of a common dictionary in the delivery of information.”

Akon scratched his neck. “You’re saying Abarai-chan doesn’t know very many kana, so she just makes them up.”

“Correct,” Nemu agreed.

“Can you read them?” Hitsugaya asked hopefully.

“She does not employ a self-consistent character set.”

Byakuya and Hitsugaya’s eyes darted to Akon, who was unwrapping a piece of nicotine gum.

“She makes it up as she goes along,” he elaborated, cramming the gum in his mouth. “There is no translation.”

“Momo thought it might be a voice bubble, like in a cartoon,” Hitsugaya mused.

“Maybe it’s just a title to the piece,” Byakuya surmised. “Father’s Birthday Celebration’, for example.”

“Abarai-chan calls Lieutenant Abarai ‘Daddy’, not ‘Father’,” Nemu corrected.

“It was an example,” Byakuya bit off testily.

“This could be cherry shaved ice or strawberry shaved ice,” Nemu added hopefully. “Abarai-chan likes strawberry shaved ice, but I prefer cherry.”

“You are not attending this party,” Akon reminded her.

“I just thought Captain Kuchiki might be interested to know,” Nemu sniffed. “In case he felt like buying me a shaved ice. As a thank you for my services.”

--

Byakuya examined Ichika’s diagram and compared it to the celebratory items currently marring the beauty of his garden. He had the balloons. The hats. The dango. The taiyaki. Both strawberry and cherry shaved ice. “I think I have replicated everything,” he declared. “Have I missed anything?”

“You don’t have rabbit ears,” Hitsugaya replied dryly.

“The rabbit ears are symbolic,” Byakuya explained. “I am wearing the lei. You should put on a lei.”

“I am not putting on a lei. I am not in the picture at all, actually, so I think I should probably scram.”

“You could stay,” Byakuya replied, feeling a little odd about it.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a family thing?”

Byakuya blinked. “Family gatherings are large, mandatory, and unpleasant. This is a small party and I am very fond of the Abarai.”

Hitsugaya just stared at him.

Byakuya squirmed. “The fact is… I am not good at things like this.”

“Of course you are. Ichika adores you. Rukia and Renji do, too.”

A normal person would have wrinkled their nose, or sucked their teeth, but Byakuya wasn’t really into making facial expressions, so he just made his usual one and stared off into the middle distance briefly. “Hisana was very good with people. At these times, I often think about how easily she would host a birthday party for a brother-in-law, how natural she would have been with Ichika. She loved children.” He contemplated the drawing. “I am sure she would have interpreted this perfectly, text and all.”

Hitsugaya, who did make facial expressions, blew air out of his cheeks. “If it makes you feel better, I can stay.”

“I would, very much, appreciate it.”

Seike, Byakuya’s chief retainer, shuffled out onto the engawa. “Lord Kuchiki, the Abarai are here.”

“Please escort them out here,” Byakuya replied, plunking a hat on Captain Hitsugaya’s head, and one on his own.

“It’s so unusual for Uncle Byakuya to invite us over on a Saturday,” Byakuya could hear Rukia’s voice before he could see her. His impression was that the ‘surprise’ involved in this party was a figleaf for Ichika’s sake. Abarai was a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“What is this?” Abarai exclaimed as he and his family stepped through the doorway, although he did a genuine double-take at Byakuya’s flower necklace.

Ichika’s face lit up as she took in the decorations, the food. But then her expression turned to dismay at her uncle, standing still and awkward. He had missed something. It was the text. It was important after all.

Hitsugaya’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “Surprise!” the younger captain yelled. A voice bubble! Of course!

“Surprise!” Byakuya added, belatedly.

“Happy Birthday!” they shouted together, with Rukia and Ichika joining in a beat later.

“Well, I’ll be!” Abarai did his best impression of a surprised person.

“Were you surprised, Daddy!” Ichika asked, jumping up and down and tugging on her father’s hand. “Were you?”

“I was very surprised,” Abarai reassured her.

“Why is Captain Hitsugaya here?” Rukia asked, utterly befuddled.

“I heard there was shaved ice,” Hitsugaya excused very quickly.

“Uncle B did all of it, Daddy, just for you! Isn’t it perfect?”

“Of course it is,” Abarai snorted. “If Uncle B did it, how could it be otherwise?”

[nurseanddex]

if you're still doing requests, 18 angst for nurseydex? :)

Honestly, I’m probably never gonna not be taking prompts/requests (I may just not get to them right away if my brain is not being cooperative) because it literally means so much to me when people send them in! I’m a fairly small/new blog in the fandom (I only started it in April, though I had been following the comic since comic 2.6 was posted) so it’s so exciting and like gratifying whenever someone sends something in because it means you like my writing enough to ask me to write something for you! So thank you so much and I hope you like it :)

Prompt was from this list, I’m also taking prompts from this list. If you want to send me one just specify which list it’s from, I’m trying to do a bunch this weekend to get my brain over my writer’s block for the fics I’ve been trying to write for an embarrassingly long time.

Prompt: “Leave! Me! Alone!”

Derek Nurse was getting on Dex’s last nerve. Scratch that, he wasn’t just getting on it, he was tap dancing all over it. If he heard the word chill, one more time-

“Bro, chill, you are way too tense for a kegster,” Nursey laughed, interrupting Dex’s train of thought. Dex could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as his hands balled into fists and he began mentally counting to ten to keep from screaming at him.

“Shut up, Nurse, you don’t know anything about what I’m feeling,” Dex bit out, tersely. His fingernails were digging into his palms from the sheer effort he was expending to keep himself from punching the smug grin off of Nursey’s infuriatingly perfect face.

“Come on, Dex, you’ve been glaring from the corner for an hour,” Nursey rolled his eyes. “Not exactly a hard read to tell you’re mad tense and need to seriously chill.” Dex’s vision flashed red as his temper got the better of him.

“Leave! Me! Alone!” he screamed, shoving past Nursey and storming out of the Haus. Out in the cool air of the October evening, he took a few deep breaths to calm down. He wasn’t sure what it was about Derek Nurse that managed to push every single one of his buttons, but his short fuse had certainly grown far shorter in just the few weeks they’d been playing together. Maybe he regretted snapping at him just a tiny bit, but if it got Nursey to respect his boundaries and stop telling him to fucking chill all the time, he’d say that it was well worth it.

Out on the porch, it was much easier for Dex to relax. He had never been a big fan of crowds or huge parties, but he wasn’t able to say no when Chowder asked him and flashed puppy dog eyes when he started to protest. He leaned back against the railing as the tension started to release from his shoulders when he saw them through the window.

Nursey was talking to the most beautiful girl Dex had ever seen, leaning up against the kitchen counter. He must’ve said something funny, because the girl started laughing and then she was leaning in and-

Oh god, Dex did not want to see this. He pushed off the railing and practically ran the whole way back to his dorm, making a mental note to apologize to Chowder tomorrow.

[doc-pickles]

not this time around

Fun Fact: This song, as sad as it is, is one of my favorite Taylor songs. I went back and forth on whether I wanted to use this song but at the end of the day I really really did. And it hurt.

So yeah… this is sad, probably the saddest piece I wrote this week and possibly will ever write for Jolex. I had been putting off watching 16x16 (I knew what happened, I had read Alex’s letter) because I just couldn’t do it. But I did it and GOD it hurt me in ways I didn’t anticipate. Not just Jo’s hurt, but everyone’s. And the flashbacks… god it was awful.

But I knew i needed to watch it and I wrote this immediately after watching it. So this fic is written from my agony over Jo and Alex’s story coming to a definitive end. Without further ado, Jo’s thoughts during ‘Leave a Light On’ and my take on her processing Alex’s departure. 

-

Could've loved you all my life

If you hadn't left me waiting in the cold

And you got your share of secrets

And I'm tired of being last to know

And now you're asking me to listen

Cause it's worked each time before

The heaviness that had lingered in Jo for weeks on end hit an all time low when Link handed her the letter. It was an inevitability at this point, something Jo had simultaneously prayed for and hoped would never come. She brushed off the feeling and mentally prepared herself for the harsh reality of whatever her husband had gotten himself into during the few weeks he had been away from her. 

Dear Jo… 

Breath catching in her throat, Jo read through Alex’s letter with a streak of fear and horror coursing through her. The more she read, the worse the feeling got. The heaviness she had been feeling for so long was now replaced by the sensation of a lion sitting on her chest, unrelenting to her cries for help or relief, unmoving as she read line after line. And then, all of a sudden, the breath she had been holding back broke forward with a sob, her chest constricting tightly.

What's also true is I'm in love with Izzie.

The words that Alex had so simply written on the lined piece of paper reached forward and grabbed Jo, holding her heart hostage as she replayed through every conversation, every word in passing over the past eight years where Alex had assured her time and time again that he had no feelings whatsoever for his ex wife. I picture her as happy as I am with you. Jo’s eye scanned the paper, devouring each line as if the words weren’t ripping her insides to shreds. She didn’t want to believe them, didn’t want to picture Alex somewhere in Kansas with Izzie living out the years they didn’t get to spend together.

But Izzie had my kids. And I know you get what that really means.

Jo read the line once, twice, four times before the words had registered fully and she let the letter drop from her shaking hands. The fear that she had been hoping wasn’t real for years on end was in ink before her, the words screaming at her that she was right. Biting back the urge to vomit, Jo placed her head in her hands as she let tears stream freely down her face. She didn’t need to read the rest of the letter, not really. Because in any universe that included the possibility of Alex having children out there in the world, he would choose them over anything and everything that might stop him. 

I wish getting everything I always wanted didn't have to hurt you in the process.

The nagging insecurity Jo had pushed back for so long came rushing back into her chest full force, almost knocking the breath out of her lungs. Why wasn’t she good enough? Not good enough for her mom, not good enough for Paul… And now she would never be good enough for Alex either. She hadn’t given him children, she hadn’t given him the family that he craved. Maybe that’s why he ran to Meredith so often, to catch fleeting moments of the feeling that he was a part of something bigger than him, bigger than them. Jo couldn't hold a candle to Izzie, to a farmhouse with muffins cooling on the windowsill, with kids running towards Alex and screaming ‘Daddy!’ as he reached his arms out to catch them.

Oh, you deserve everything good in this life, Jo. I hope you find so much better than me.

Jo tried to read the words in front of her, but she couldn’t anymore. Her tears had blocked her vision out, the words appearing blurry as she held back one sob after another until they all broke through and she was embarrassingly sobbing in the resident’s lounge. How on earth did Alex think that there was anyone better for her than him? After the hurt and pain she had walked in this lifetime, Jo knew that the best thing in the world for her was the man who laid in her bed every night whispering promises to her and kissing her so fiercely that every kiss felt like the first one. He didn't sleep in her bed anymore though, he never would again.

Jo would never again hold him like she had so many nights, she would never feel the touch of his hand against hers as they passed in the hallways. Never again would Jo be able to relish in the way Alex’s body fit together with hers so well as they made love, she wouldn’t get to laugh at his corny jokes or make fun of him when he cried at rom coms with her. 

Because Alex was gone.

A shaking breath escaped Jo, her hand clutching her heart as she took one deep breath. While it was true that she had been to hell and back and Alex had helped save her from that, Jo also knew that now it was her turn to save herself. The pain and agony of losing the person who meant the most to her in the world would not tear her to the ground. She had worked too hard to let herself fall now. She would hold her head high and she would move forward with grace.

Because Alex had left.

Alex had left, he wasn’t dead and he hadn’t been forced out of her life. He had chosen to leave Seattle, leave Jo, leave Meredith and the beautiful life and career he had fought tooth and nail for. And for that one distinction, for the fact that Alex had chosen a path that didn’t include her, she wouldn’t spend anymore tears on him because he wasn’t worth it. Because after they had built a life together, chosen each other more times than she could count, he had walked out.

And it wasn’t the fact that he had left her for his kids, she understood that more than anyone just as he had assumed. It was the cowardice and the pain he had inflicted on her by choosing to write a fucking letter instead of coming home and saying goodbye like a normal human being. They could’ve talked, could’ve worked their issues out. They could’ve stayed together and worked on building this new life...

But Alex didn't want that, he wanted Izzie and his kids. He wanted what Jo didn’t give him. So Jo would say goodbye silently, she would stand tall and proud and not drive to Kansas to try and drive him back to be with her like she so desperately wanted to. 

She would let Alex Karev go, even if it killed her.

I'm sorry. I don't know how to end this. I don't want to. Goodbye.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, miss-shiva-adler!

For @miss-shiva-adler. Darling! This is my way of wishing you a Merry Christmas! I am equally happy and disappointed because this story was not what I had in mind for you, but no matter how much I tried to write the one I wanted, I just couldn't. On the other hand... I'd like to believe I brought my A game out with this story. I'd also like to apologize in advance if this isn't your cup of tea after all. I genuinely feel like I was testing limits here and bending rules there and all I can hope at this stage is that I didn't end up crossing the line I've been tiptoeing in the next 7,000 (or so) words. Once again, I wish you Merry Christmas!

Hello people! First of all, thank you for even considering giving this story a chance! <3 I would like to warn everyone, that this fic is DARK. The tags are not there for the crack, please don't take them lightly. Also, I’m not sure how this happened. This is not how this was supposed to go, in all honesty.. I have no idea what just happened. But it did. All in all, this fic is bloody brilliant in my humble opinion, so if the tags and my warning was still not enough to scare you away... then be my guest!

Read On AO3

*****

The Last of Us

”If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”

- Orson Welles, The Big Brass Ring

He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the man in front of him.

He felt his heart beating in his throat, a fast, erratic thumping as fear clutched at his heart, squeezing the air out of him in a shaky breath.

He looked into the familiar golden amber eyes and knew that it was over.

His eyes moved to the gun pointed at him, cold and deadly as the man moved his finger, resting it on the trigger.

28 days ago…

He woke up with a dull headache, a thumping behind his eyelids, growing stronger and stronger with each blink. He groaned as he sat up, eyes taking in his surrounding but seeing nothing familiar.

The small room he was in, was rather simple. The walls were painted in white, bare around him, lacking any personal touch, not even a picture or a photograph. The bed was comfortable, a very simple single bed with white sheets and covers and a lone pillow. He glanced down at the bedside table and picked up the clock placed on top. The analogue digits showed that it was exactly 07:00 am. His eyes landed on a sink right next to a door before he spotted a small round mirror above it.

He frowned as he pushed himself off the bed, walking slowly towards the mirror, almost afraid of what he would see. He blinked once, twice, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes took in every detail, the way his black hair flopped to the side, soft strands falling onto his forehead. He stared into his own eyes in the mirror glass, trying to identify the exact colours of them. They were a mixture of amber and brown with gold flecks. He looked at his small nose, then down onto his cupid’s bow... his thin lips. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips in a nervous gesture. He lifted his hand, touching his cheek, fingers running along his jaw line.

“Who the hell am I?” His voice came out a hoarse whisper, but whether it was due to not using it for a long time or due to the fact he had only woke up now, he didn’t know.

He looked down at his body, he was wearing a simple white trouser and t-shirt with a number 9 printed on the left side of the chest along with a pair of white shoes that somehow reminded him of those cheap, canvas shoes that prisoners would wear.

His eyes widened, shoes and clothes forgotten as a dreadful thought occurred to him. Was he a prisoner?

8

He spent 28 days, stuck in the building with no windows, no doors that would open. Alone.

He wished he could tell where he was, why he was there, but the only thing he ever managed to remember was his own name and even that, took him several days to recall.

The first time it happened, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a hallucination. It felt like a memory, familiar and personal. Almost like a glimpse from the past or perhaps a vision, created by his mind, he wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Magnus.” He felt his lips tugging into a smirk as he held a hand out to the other man.

He watched with a little flutter in his heart as suddenly, a bright smile spread across the other’s face, lighting up his hazel eyes before grabbing his hand.

“I’m Alec.”

He wasn’t sure who Alec was, but from that day, he stopped thinking about himself as a number in some kind of system and instead he thought of himself as Magnus.

There were days between the first time and the next and it left him once again with more questions than answers.

He walked slowly up to the wall, phone in his hand as he scrolled through his contacts, stopping on a certain Pretty Boy . He bit his lip before pressing the call button, painted nails shining in the light.

“Hello. Who is this?” He heard a deep voice coming through from the other end and he smiled to himself before answering.

“Alexander, hi. It’s Magnus. We met the other day,”

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just thinking, it was very nice getting to know you.” He said as he walked around in circles, trying to play it smooth. “You seemed…sympathetic.” He blurted before closing his eyes in embarrassment. That was as far from smooth as possible. He picked up a book he was reading the night before, flipping it in his hand as a nervous tick. “Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” He added, thinking that if his previous words didn’t scare the man away, he might as well go for it.

“That sounds fun.” Came the reply and Magnus stopped fidgeting with the book in his hand, smiling happily.

He still didn’t know who Alec was and couldn’t recall how he got his number, but the fact he liked the other man became very obvious. He spent night after night lying in bed, thinking about him. Was he out there? Was he... missing him? Did he realize he disappeared? Maybe they never managed to go on that date and they never spoke after.

He spent his days in loneliness, walking the endless corridors, looking into room after room, hoping desperately to find anything that could give him answers.

He started to doubt more and more that he was in prison. A prisoner? Maybe. But not in the common sense. There were no guards, no other inmates. He frowned, trying to remember how he knew what a prison was like, but all he managed to achieve was a throbbing headache and some nausea.

He sat in the small, kitchen like room, eating anything he could find and deemed suitable for human consumption. There was enough food in the cupboard for month by the look of it. He wondered when and who put them there, he even stayed awake for two nights, hoping to catch someone coming in, but it turned out to be pointless. No one was coming.

The next time he remembered something about Alec, it became clear that they have had gone on the date and it turned out rather successful.

He felt pump limps pressing against his own, eager and so ready to please. He felt the lips against his, opening slowly, letting his tongue in, meeting it halfway. It made him press his body closer to the other, hands moving to cup his face as they got lost in the kiss.

He kept replaying the memory in his head, occasionally touching his lips with his fingertips.

There were moments when he wondered if Alec was perhaps no more than a trick of his mind, someone created solely to make him feel less lonely. It was a bitter thought. One that sent him to heave above the toilet, stomach turning, throat burning.

They were standing in front of each other and he could see the small signs shoving just how nervous his boyfriend was.

“I was thinking... maybe we could move in. Together.” Alec said in one breath and it took him almost an embarrassingly long time to reply.

“Only if I can have a walk-in closet.” He said seriously but he felt the beginning of a grin tugging at his lips.

“You mean that?” Alec asked with a wide smile, full of happiness, before stepping closer to him.

He was angry. Whoever Alec was... they lived together. So, where was he? He counted the days, and he was there for almost a month, surely, he would realize something was missing in that time. He felt his stomach turning with nausea and his head spinning with all the questions he had with no one to answer them.

He wondered what he could’ve done, making the other man give up on him, forgetting about him.

He systematically explored every inch of the building, pulling everything apart, turning the entire place upside down. He knew well enough that there was nothing to find but it made the anger and fear subdue even if only for a short period of time.

He watched his boyfriend leaning over the pool table with a cocky smirk while he stood motionless, cue in hand as he raised a single eyebrow.

“It’s all about the angles.” His boyfriend explained before pulling the cue back slowly and with a forceful, punctual move, he sent the first ball into the hole. “Like archery.” He added with a smile, turning towards Magnus, motioning for him to go next.

He tried to hide his smile as his boyfriend turned away, taking a quick sip at his drink and he quickly leaned forward, pushing two balls in with ease.

He straightened up, finding his boyfriend staring at him with wide eyes that instantly ripped a laugh out of him.

“Oh darling, did no one ever tell you, that if you can’t find the one being hassled at a pool table, it’s probably you?” He asked.

“Oh, you’re on.” His boyfriend laughed with a shake of his head.”

Magnus was desperate to get out. He went from room to room, wall to wall, pounding and kicking the locked doors until he was out of breath, until his hands were bruised.

Whoever locked him up, made sure that there was no way he could ever get out of this hell hole. There wasn’t a single clue anywhere about what this place was. He hated it. He hated the white walls, the white floor, the tiny number nine on his t-shirt. He hated it all.

He sank down along the wall, back tilted against the cold tiles and took a deep breath. He felt his throat closing up, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Then he heard it. A door opening.

He was on his feet in seconds, the rapid movement giving him a whiplash as he swayed on the spot.

He felt his heart almost beating out of his chest, scared and hopeful at the same time.

He tried to listen to any noise, but he could barely hear anything apart from the buzzing in his ears.

Before he could make his mind up whether to hide or to go and see who was there with him a figure turned at the corner, coming to a halt as he spotted Magnus pressed to the wall.

It took him a minute until he could speak, his eyes strained on the man in front of him as he whispered.

“Alec?”

It seemed to pull out the other from whatever shock he was in, making him blink rapidly as he took a step closer to Magnus.

“Magnus.” He breathed, not a question but a statement. Before Magnus had a chance to do a much as blink, Alec was standing a few feet away from him, hands in the air between them a clear invitation.

“Are you really here?” The man asked with tears in his hazel eyes, making Magnus unable to do anything but nod.

He didn’t know who moved first, but the next moment he found himself between strong arms, his own grasping the man’s t-shirt, holding onto him with everything he had.

7

”You are beautiful.” Alec whispered in the dim light of his bedroom before cupping his face gently, kissing him with love and care. He felt his skin tingling where his fingertips touched, leaving goosebumps in their tracks. They spent hours and hours discovering each other, tangled together in the sheets, breathing and moaning, whispering “I love you”s into the dark.”

Magnus spent the whole day subtly avoiding any eye contact with Alec.

It’s been over a week since they met, and they never left the side of the other ever since.

At the start it was both awkward yet familiar to be around the other man. He felt like he knew him and deep down he knew he did, but having a glimpse of memories of him here and there, didn’t feel enough.

First Magnus hoped that Alec would have more knowledge of their situation, but it turned out that he had even less than what Magnus had. He told him about a few memories he had with him, a dinner night, some walk in the city were they placed a lock on the wall but apart from that, Alec had as much idea about the place or their reason for being there as Magnus.

They spent the next couple of days coming up with possible options from prison to hospital, but it didn’t bring them any closer to find answers.

“Neither of those add up. Not even with the numbers.” He said as he gestured towards the small 9 on Magnus’ t-shirt before he glanced down into his number 4 before continuing with a sigh. “Say we are prisoners, where are the guards? And other inmates? I mean, even if we did something absolutely horrific and were deemed to be the most dangerous criminals of all time, it doesn’t explain the lack of prison system. There aren’t even cameras.” Alec explained. Magnus suddenly remembered a tv-show about two brothers and prison. He couldn’t name it, nor any of the people in it, but from what he knew, Alec was right.

“Yeah, we are definitely not in a hospital either. There are no nurses, no doctors, no other patients. Although the white walls and sterile feeling is definitely there.” Magnus said, getting a nod from Alec.

“Plus, if we were, I’m sure our family would have visited by now.” Alec said quietly.

“You… you remember them?” Magnus heard the words slipping out before having the chance to stop them.

Alec shook his head with a humorless chuckle.

“I wish.” He said and looked at Magnus with an odd look.

“What is it?”

“It’s just, strange. I remember things. But I don’t know how. I know things but I can’t remember when or how I learnt about them. The only thing I seem to remember clearly is… well, you.”

“I remember you too.” Magnus said with a smile, before gently touching Alec’s hand.

6

On the good side of things, it helped Magnus to get to know Alec a bit better and to learn about him; like how he woke up super early, how he would spend hours to do push-ups and god knows what each day, that rolling his eyes seemed to be his default reaction to anything and everything, that his whole face lit up when he smiled, that his voice was always a few octaves deeper in the mornings, he also blushed on cue and stuttered when he was embarrassed, but was still charismatic, even authoritative on occasions which somehow always made Magnus’ knees weak.

Alec has been there for a lot longer than Magnus. He wasn’t sure in days, he lost track of the days after he reached one hundred and Magnus tried his absolute best not to dwell on that information or try to guess at which point will he lose the track of days.

The man was blunt and honest but not in a rude way. He also made jokes that were a tad bit too sarcastic but with no heat behind them. He was also caring and paid attention to everything that Magnus said and to the things he didn’t. He seemed to sense when Magnus wanted to be alone, leaving him to himself without trying to engage him in a conversation. He also spotted where Magnus felt unable to stay still and then they went for a walk, observing the place where Alec was staying until now. The part of the building Alec was in, seemed a lot bigger than his own. Maybe even three times of its size. It turned out that the door separating the two parts of the building could be only opened from Alec’s side and since Alec has spent majority of his days in the opposite corner, the furthest from where Magnus was, he never heard any noise. Not until that one day, when the sound of someone shouting and beating the walls echoed in the entire wing.

Despite the significantly spacious environment on the other side of the door, it seemed to be providing no information about their situation.

In fear of being separated again, or in Magnus’ case, waking up to loneliness realizing that Alec was nothing more than a dream, a hallucination, a mirage he never truly had and could never reach, they spent the nights together, two beds pushed next to each other.

They slept together, but save for the occasional hugs and comforting touches, they never got closer.

So, waking up one morning with an erection after having erotic dreams about the other, Magnus had no idea what to do.

It was obvious that they were once a couple. They lived together. For all he knew, they might have been married, but Alec never made a move and neither did Magnus.

Hence, Magnus stood in front of the sink, trying to splash some water on his face.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked, voice raspy in the morning as he squinted at Magnus.

“Yeah.” He breathed as he blinked at the man, smiling at the sight of his bed head.

Alec looked exactly like the version in his memories, saved for the slightly longer hair and beard.

They had a shower with cold water and soap, but there was nothing to shave.

The clear lack of anything that could be used to harm others, or even themselves, was both surprising and expected.

Magnus blinked a few times, only realizing that he must have spent this whole time staring at Alec.

Alec gave him a look that he couldn’t exactly decipher. He was frowning but there was no sign of annoyance. It almost seemed as if he was thinking about something, really hard.

He opened his mouth to ask him about it, but before he could do so, Alec jumped out of bed, stopping in front of Magnus with barely a few inches separating them.

The close proximity of the other man brought all the memories of his dream back with a renewed force, vivid pictures of the man, all naked and sweaty flushed before his eyes.

His eyes met a pair of hazel ones, full of hope, want and love and before he knew it, they were kissing.

It was nothing like their first kiss, nor like the one they shared in his memories from last night.

This kiss was like a moment of freedom, a freedom he didn’t know he was desperately yearning for, like a gulp of fresh air after being confined between four walls for so long.

He felt a hand gently touching his face, while the other pulled him closer by his waist and despite the absurdity of their situation, he would not be anywhere else in that moment.

They parted slowly after a handful of minutes, resting their foreheads together as both of them tried their best to catch their breath.

5

A few hours later, Magnus walked slowly, giggling as he raised his hands, trying to feel anything in front of him.

“I’m not gonna walk you into a wall.” He heard Alec’s voice coming from right behind him, his lips almost touching his ear and it sent shivers down his spine.

“I know.” Magnus said with a smile and he meant it. He trusted Alec with his life.

“Okay. I’m gonna move my hands now, but please keep your eyes closed.” Alec instructed before doing as he said, stepping away from Magnus.

He had no idea what Alec was up to, but he disappeared in the kitchen thirty minutes ago or so, and Magnus wasn’t allowed to follow him. Until now.

“Ready? You can look now.” Alec said and Magnus raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of his tone, all of a sudden, he sounded nervous and it only intrigued Magnus’ curiosity.

He opened his eyes, and he felt his mouth parting in surprise.

On the table was a dinner. Probably the most pathetic dinner he ever had, yet the most touching one.

“I know it’s not much; I mean...” Alec gestured with his hand, oblivious to the tears of happiness in Magnus’ eyes.

He shook his head and opened his mouth to explain that it was perfect. That Alec was perfect, but the next moment he felt his breath hitching in his throat and he fell to his knees, his hands grabbing his hair as he groaned in pain.

“Magnus!” Alec shouted and he saw him move towards him as his world shifted, the image blurring in front of his eyes before it changed completely.

He walked onto a balcony and he found the most beautiful candle lit dinner table he’s ever seen. Red rose petals were covering some of the tables as well as the ground. It was dark, starts peppered across the sky, the only light coming from the dozens of candles placed around the balcony, illuminating the small circular table.

“Magnus. Magnus!” He came back to Alec hoovering above him, white as a sheet, concern and worry plastered across his face.

Magnus sat up with a groan, the pain was gone as suddenly as it appeared.

“Oh my-.“ Alec choked before hugging him tightly.

He hugged him back, felt his body trembling under his touch.

“Just a flashback.” Magnus explained with a wave of his hand as he let Alec to pull him to his feet.

“Was it because of the dinner?” He asked with so much guilt in his voice that Magnus shook his head, trying to ignore how he blatantly lied to the other man.

“Of course not.” He said with a smile before pressing a kiss to Alec’s lips, pulling him to the table.

After their ‘date’, the rest of the day passed in a blur as they laid in bed, kissing and smiling at each other and for the first time since Magnus could remember, he felt happy.

Truly happy as Alec pulled him close, his head resting on the man’s chest, his heartbeat steady and calming as they drifted in and out of sleep.

When he woke up, he found the bed next to him empty and his heart skipped a beat.

Alec was gone.

He sat up, head spinning, vision blurring as he fought against the panic crawling up his throat.

“ALEC!” He shouted, panic and fear laced in his voice as he willed his body to move forward.

He felt his legs shaking as he took a step closer to his door, but before he could reach it, it opened with a loud bang, revealing a panting Alec, eyes wide as he scanned Magnus, looking for any sign of injury.

“F…F-Fuck...” Magnus breathed, legs giving out from under him as he collapsed against the bed, hands moving up to cover his face.

“Magnus. What happened? Are you okay?” Alec kneeled in front of him, his hands moving to his, peeling them away softly from his face.

“I woke up and you were gone.” Magnus whispered softly as he looked away from Alec, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden.

“I was... oh Magnus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you w-. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.” Alec breathed as he pulled Magnus into a hug, one hand caressing his back while the other cupped the back of his neck, allowing Magnus to bury his head in the crook of his neck.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t. You are all I have.” Magnus muttered into Alec’s neck.

“You won’t. I promise. I… I love you Magnus.” Alec said quietly before moving away just enough to look into Magnus’ eyes.

“I love you too, Alec.” Magnus said before pulling him back, hugging him tightly.

“I... found something.” Alec said after a few minutes and Magnus sat up suddenly.

“What?” Magnus asked, trying not to get his hopes up too much, but it was hard considering that after all this time, they finally found something.

Alec walked him to the other end of building, before stopping in front of a door.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, glancing at Alec, not entirely understanding what Alec’s discovery was.

The door was there before too, steel double doors, shut closed at the middle.

They spent half a day previously, trying to get it open with no luck.

Alec glanced as his boyfriend, before removing what turned out to be a panel at the left side, revealing a small pin panel and a handprint scan.

“Oh my god.” He was stunned as he stepped closer, hardly believing to his eyes.

“I haven’t touched it. Not sure what it would do. I wanted to talk to you first.” Alec explained.

“I’m sure it’s like any other PIN pad, and something would definitely happen after three trial, but if it is like one, it also means that it resets after 24 hours.” Magnus explained with a frown, wondering how was he sure about that information being right.

“Okay, let’s say you are right. Still. It’s a four-digit pin. That means 10,000 variations. If we try three each 24 hours, that means we would be here for nine years trying out all of them and that is if it doesn’t block the entire system. Or worse.”

Magnus blinked at Alec for a moment or two.

“Let’s try the scan.” He said with a shrug, before reaching out, just to have Alec catch him by the wrist before he could touch it.

“We have no idea what happens if the scan fails.” Alec said, eyes wide with fear. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of anything worse than spending nine years here.” Magnus said, looking into Alec’s eyes, hoping that the other would understand. They had to try.

After what felt like hours of silently staring at each other, Alec closed his eyes.

“Okay.” Alec said with a sigh. “But let me go first?” He asked and Magnus had to bite his tongue to refrain himself from saying no. After all, it was his idea and he couldn’t back down now, so instead he grabbed Alec’s other hand, intervening their fingers before giving him a firm nod.

He watched as Alec let out a shaky breath before placing his hand on top of the scan.

The screen quickly flashed red. “Access denied.” Before turning black again.

They stood there, unmoving for a long few second, waiting for any kind of consequence.

“Well, no apocalypse.” Magnus said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He raised his hand, but once again, Alec caught it.

“What if that’s why we are here?”

“What?”

“What if we are the last ones alive?” He asked and Magnus wasn’t sure if Alec was joking or serious for a moment.

“One way to find out.” Magnus said before pressing his hand onto the cold surface of the scanner.

He felt his heart jumping up to his throat as the screen fleshed green with the two words he never truly expected to see. “Access granted.”

4

They simultaneously took a step back, holding onto each other’s hand as the doors opened slowly, revealing another room.

Contrast to the rest of the building, it was rather dark, all steel surfaces.

They looked at each other and he found that everything he could say to the man was already reflecting in hazel eyes.

With a deep breath, they walked in.

Magnus wasn’t sure how, but he knew the purpose of the room as soon as his eyes scanned the room.

They were in some kind of laboratory.

He glanced at Alec and with a nod they parted ways, never losing sight of the other as they explored around. He walked towards with two computers on top, but his eyes were already on the sea of papers, haphazardly scattered across the desk, some of them lying on the floor. Magnus’ eyes widened as he looked at the notes.

There were numerous files on the computer as well as lying around in a mess.

He frowned as he picked up a notebook and his eyes ran over the seemingly random dates and what seemed like symptoms.

06/06/2025 – slurred speech, clear indication of hallucinations, depression 12/07/2025 – weight loss, inability to speak, memory loss – advanced symptoms of CJD 01/09/2025 – entered final stage 28/09/2025 – death

He turned the page and found a continued list of symptoms, all of them assigned to different dates.

He turned to the front and found the first note dated back to 2018. The last one was dated three months ago. He looked at the computer and his eyes caught a series of files, each numbered from 0-9. His eyes landed on nine. He felt his heart beating faster as he moved the cursor over it and tapped it twice to open it.

“What the hell?” The words left his lips in a whisper.

On the screen… was him. His name in big capital letters: MAGNUS BANE. But that was not what shocked him… no… it was the footnote under the name.

Subject number: Nine. Trial: same as subject Four Status: initial stage Information on his blood pressure, blood sugar level along with many more he couldn’t focus on.

He wasn’t speaking loud enough for Magnus to make out the words, but it was audible enough to allow him to pick up on the tenseness in his voice, the nervous tone to his words. Without thinking, he turned away from the computer and rushed to him.

There was someone else with them.

“Alec?” He called out as he stepped into the room and he felt his world shifting, the ground almost slipping from under his foot as his eyes landed on the other man in the room, standing opposite to Alec.

Magnus knew him. His hair was longer, he looked older… but everything else was the same. The small nose, the thin lips, the amber eyes… Magnus looked at himself… but this time not in a mirror... but across from him in the room.

“Hello, Nine. I’m Magnus. Magnus Bane. The real one.” The man said calmly, almost matter-of-factly as he locked eyes with Magnus.

“What do you mean the real one?” Alec asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked between the two men.

“I mean what I said. I am the original Magnus Bane.” The man explained and he raised a hand towards Magnus as he spoke “He is the ninth one.”

“I... I don’t... I can’t...” Magnus stuttered as he took a step back, something nagging at the back of his mind, something that was becoming clearer and clearer since he found those notes, but he couldn’t put a name to it.

“It’s alright. Calm down. There is no need to panic.” The other Magnus said, hands raised in a defensive move as he took a step forward, now standing closer to Alec than Magnus was.

“I don’t understand. Any of this.” Alec said, his eyes flicking between them.

“Oh, Alexander. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” The older man said as he smiled gently at Alec, lovingly even. “I thought you were dead.”

“What?” Alec whispered as he took a step back away from the older man, towards Magnus and it took Magnus everything he had in him to stop himself from reaching out to his lover.

“I mean... you were meant to be dead. A long time ago. The fact that you are here… it’s a miracle... it’s proof that it worked.” The older Magnus smiled happily, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at Alec with such intensity that Magnus almost believed his words.

“What worked?”

“The treatment. I found the cure.”

“The cure for what?” Alec asked once again, and it was becoming clear in his voice that he was close to losing his patience.

“For the disease that killed my husband. My Alexander.”

“What?” Magnus blurted, but now the confusion came a certain kind of dread that settled in his chest, growing bigger and bigger with each passing second.

“I met Alexander when we were both young, in our early twenties. In 2012.” He said with a deep breath and a barely-there smile as he looked at Alec. “We fell in love, fast and hard. One could say that neither of us saw it coming, by the time we realized what he had we were both in too deep. Our love for one another was like no other love out there. We were invincible. Or so we thought. Until Alexander got sick. It started with depression... and for a long time, we thought it was only that. But then... other symptoms came. The dizziness, the headaches, the anxiety, the difficulty to focus… to speak. By the time we realized what the problem was… he was almost at the end of the initial stage. I will never forget the day when we sat in the hospital and the doctor came in to inform us that he had Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.

There is nothing worse than being told that the man you love more than life itself has a condition that is incurable. That from now on.. they aren’t focusing on treating him and trying to save his life... but instead now we wait… for the inevitable end. I think a part of us died on that day. The part of us full of plans and hopes for the future. We were just told that we won’t grow old together... that we won’t be here next year... that in a few months... death will do us part. I tried everything. I tried treatment when other doctors refused to treat him. I spent days and nights trying to find a way to save the man I loved. And I failed. I watched him grow weaker and weaker each day... until one autumn morning... he stopped fighting.” Magnus remembered the first notes from 2018 and he felt his breath hitching in his throat as realization slowly settled in.

“The day before he died... I promised him that I will find a way. And I spent the last decade or so, working on keeping my promise. After years of research… I found a way to clone people. I used his DNA I had from previous tests… and I created him. The man I loved. And I couldn’t have been happier. I had Alexander back. But then it started again... the depression... the balance and coordination problems... and less than a year after... I lost him again. To the same disease. The DNA I had from him was after he got sick... so the new Alexander also received the disease… So, I created a new one. He lived for even shorter than the previous one. I realized that this way... I can find a cure. I have someone with the disease... I can do tests and trial treatments… But losing you, over and over again... it killed me. It broke my heart and no matter how many times I watched you leave me... it never got easier... so I decided to create a clone of myself... infect it with the disease... and try to find a cure. The disease in my case was even more peracute. The second one died less than half a month after exposing him to the illness.

I created the last clone of Alexander... over a year ago. When I saw the first signs of the advanced stage... I decided that I can’t watch him die again in my arms... you were meant to die within months. No one with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease lived longer than a year after the initial symptoms appeared. But you are still here... and you speak...and...”

“You… you cloned me? Us?” Alec asked, voice laced with shock and utter disbelief.

“I had to. It was the only way to be with you again.” The older Magnus said with such softness in his voice that it almost made Magnus believe that it was regret woven into his words.

“How many... clones did you make?” Alec asked and Magnus felt his stomach dropping.

“Nine.” He whispered, his eyes moving down onto the number etched into his t-shirt.

“Yes.” The other man nodded as he looked at Magnus before quickly turning away from both of them. He walked away slowly to the desk. “You see... the first three Alexanders I created passed away quickly... it was after I created you, number four – he said before pointing at Alec’s t-shirt – that I realized I can’t lose you again. So, I created Magnus one, which if we want to be precise was number five. Ninth here was the last one.” He said still not looking at them, only nodding towards Magnus’ direction vaguely before turning around.

“But now... I have the cure. I have you. I don’t need him anymore.” He said as he pointed a gun at Magnus.

He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the man in front of him. He felt his heart beating in his throat, a fast, erratic thumping as fear clutched at his heart, squeezing the air out of him in a shaky breath. He looked into the familiar golden amber eyes and knew that it was over. His eyes moved to the gun pointed at him, cold and deadly as the man moved his finger, resting it on the trigger.

He felt tears in his eyes, mourning for himself and all the others. The thought of all of them... having thoughts and feelings and memories... they were real. They were real, living and breathing people.

All created in a lab by a man who couldn’t let go of his love.

As he stood there, eyes not leaving the other’s face.. he mourned for him a bit too. As twisted as it sounded... he felt sad for the older man. To imagine a love so strong... that it was enough to wash away any morals or ethics the man once must have held as a doctor, just to be reunited with his lover.

He remembered vividly all the memories he had with Alec and realized that they weren’t his memories but memories of the man in front of him. It broke his heart.

He knew, he felt the love the real Magnus felt for Alec. The respect, the admiration he felt for the other man. He wondered what his Alexander would have said if he saw the man he loved, once kind, caring and so considerate of everyone around him to turn into someone so lonely and hurt by the cruelty of life. That the man he loved was willing to play God, to break rules and overstep boundaries so easily just to be with him again.

He closed his eyes, allowing a single tear to roll down his cheek. He wanted to live. He desperately wanted to experience the world, all the moments he thought he once had, but turned out to be nothing but someone else's memories. He selfishly wanted that happiness to be his. Even if he knew that they were never his to start with.

He prepared for the end and for a fleeing moment, he wondered if this was what Alexander felt like at the end of his condition. This gut-wrenching fear and helplessness knowing that no matter what he did, the end was coming, and he had no way of stopping it.

He mourned for him too.

He heard the sound of the gunshot and he squeezed his eyes shut so hard it was almost painful, but apart from the self-inflicted pain, he didn’t feel anything.

He opened his eyes and found the the older Magnus lying on the floor, Alec on top of him.

“Alex-.”

“Stop.” Alec grunted; hand curled around the man’s wrist that was holding the gun.

He watched as Alec forced the gun out of his hands before turning it around, pointing at the older man under him.

“What are you doing?” Magnus panted, eyes wide in shock as he was pinned to the floor. Magnus watched the two of them, unable to move.

“I... I…” Alec stuttered and even though he couldn’t see his face, his back was turned towards Magnus where he stood, he could hear the pain in his voice, tears choking him as he tried to speak.

“I have all his memories... I remember everything. The first time you met, your first date, your first kiss… the first time you made love to him. I know how much he loved you, how he adored you. This isn't what he would have wanted, Magnus.” And this.. this isn’t how I want to remember you Magnus. And I know he wouldn’t want to either.” He said, shoulders shaking with silent cries.

“Alexander...”

“You killed... so many of us. Over and over again. That is not something the man I fell in love would ever do. I died Magnus. I wish... I wish you would’ve had the chance to grow old together. To have a family. But life... life doesn’t always give us what we want. Alexander isn’t the only one who died that day. You did too. A part of you never moved on. I think... I think you should... be with him.”

“We can be. We can be.” Magnus chanted eagerly, voice hoping yet desperate.

“And we will be. I will be waiting for you at the Brooklyn-bridge. I promise.” Alec whispered as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead before a gunshot rang through the air again.

He never thought he would ever have this. Now, here they were, standing on a roof top surrounded by the blue and white lights of the never sleeping city. The sight of the Brooklyn bridge, bright like a beacon of hope in the darkness of the night. He felt the warmth of a body pressing up to his back before arms sneaked around his waist, hugging him gently. He smiled as he tilted his head back against his lover’s chest, finding comfort in the small puffs or air hitting his neck and the familiar scent of Alexander’s cologne.

[hotforharrison]

Enraptured Writer ch 5

Chapter 4 <-- Masterlist --> Chapter 6

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: Writing fanfiction was your guilty pleasure, but it was definitely not meant to be shared with certain people -- specifically, people named Tom Holland.

Word Count: 1,348

Warnings: Language and smut, my usual go-tos.

A/N: The random number generator decided this would be my next update, so here it is!

You discarded your dress on the floor, bra and panties quickly joining it, before you could overthink it. If he wasn’t actually into you, he wouldn’t have let things progress as far as they had, right?

Tom was still lying there, obviously checking you out and liking what he saw, which was a major relief. His lips were slightly parted, and he ran his tongue over them subconsciously.

Your heart beat faster in your chest at his stare.

“I think you’re overdressed for the occasion,” you eventually commented, a bit shyly.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, glancing down at himself as if he’d forgotten he was wearing clothes at all.

You wondered if you’d had that effect on him, if you were making him as deeply aroused as he was making you. You questioned for the hundredth time how this was even your life.

He stood to quickly strip off his shirt, pants, and boxers, not making a show of it.

It was your turn to check him out. He had muscle, and lots of it. You definitely didn’t need that to find a guy attractive, but it was a good look on him. There was so much smooth skin that you think would look pretty marked up by your mouth, if he let you. You hoped he’d let you.

He wasn’t hard again yet, but you intended to change that soon.

You crawled across the bed toward him as seductively as you could, grabbing him by the hips and tugging him close to the edge.

“What are you-” he started asking, before you mouthed at his soft dick wetly. “Oh, you’re doing that.”

He didn’t sound displeased, so you continued to lick and suck on him, hand reaching down to gently play with his balls. You followed your hand down with your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You were pleased to discover he was hardening back up nicely and took his dick back in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head and sucking on him. It didn’t take a lot for him to reach full hardness again.

He wasn’t huge, and you were glad for that. It definitely gave you more options to work with.

Pulling back from him, you glanced up through your lashes and told him, “you can fuck my mouth, if you want.”

“Fuck yes,” he agreed and tightened his fingers in your hair to work your mouth over his dick, gradually going deeper as he got more into it.

You moved your hand between your legs, finding your already slick clit and rubbing it, groaning in pleasure around his dick.

“What?” he asked, looking down to see what you were doing. “I’m getting close. I want to wait until you cum before I do.”

You sped up the motion of your fingers, trying desperately to get there before he did. When your climax hit, you pushed your head forward to take him into your throat, swallowing around him to encourage him to chase his own completion.

He cried out your name, among a steady stream of profanity in that delicious accent of his, as he spilled down your throat. You swallowed again, the salty and slightly bitter taste on the back of your tongue.

The lack of oxygen made the experience particularly heady, your vision eventually going swimmy.

After his orgasm subsided, he pulled back, and you took in several deep gulps of air, grateful to have access to oxygen again.

“Thank you,” he said, affectionately running a thumb over your cheek and down to trace your swollen lips.

“Anytime,” you responded, but your voice was completely wrecked.

He winced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s all good,” you reassured him. “No regrets here.”

“Let me make it up to you, love,” he offered, moving you around on the bed like you weighed nothing, and god, was that a turn on.

He put your legs over his shoulders and got between your thighs. His tongue slipped between your folds, and then he pulled back. “Fuck, you’re soaked. Is all this for me?”

“Definitely all for you. You don’t seem to know how hot you are, and I’ve been fantasizing about this for years,” you admitted quietly.

He chuckled. “Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Before you could respond, he dived in and circled your clit with his tongue. Two fingers pushed into you. He thrust them in and out wetly, your slick making it embarrassingly easy.

“Oh my god, Tom,” you moaned, unable to help rolling your hips against his face as you chased after another orgasm.

He pulled back again. “Love the way you say my name, darling.”

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

His tongue and fingers started working you again, quicker this time, and he flicked his tongue against your clit several times.

That was it for you.

“Tom, Tom, oh my fucking god, Tom,” you cried out, toes curling and gently tugging his curls.

As your climax subsided, he slowed down, eventually stopping when it was too much. He wiped his face off on his arm and crawled up on top of you.

His lips met yours in a surprisingly heated kiss that he deepened almost immediately. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, bittersweet, but you didn’t mind.

Your tongues started to fight for dominance, but you acquiesced and let him take over the kiss.

You made out unhurriedly until you felt his erection rubbing against your stomach.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

“Can we?” you asked, not finishing the sentence.

“Yeah, I want to fuck you,” he responded and climbed off of you and the bed. “Just need to grab a rubber.”

He pulled one out of his duffel bag, tearing open the package and rolling it down his length.

You spread your legs, reaching out to invite him to settle between them again.

He took you up on your invitation and lined himself up with your entrance. “Ready, love?”

“Whenever you are,” you responded, heart racing in your chest.

He pushed forward and sunk into you in one long thrust, filling you up nicely.

“You feel so good inside me,” you told him.

“You feel amazing. So tight, and hot, and wet,” he commented as he started moving. “I could fuck you forever.”

“And I wouldn’t stop you.” You groaned as he hit a particularly good spot with his dick, and he made a point of hitting that spot every time he could.

His hips smacked against yours in quick thrusts, and soon neither one of you could talk.

You moaned into each other’s mouths in something that you could barely call a kiss, all tongues, and teeth, and desperation.

He snaked a hand between your bodies to find your clit and started rubbing around it with two fingers, teasing, then giving you what you needed, and frustrating the hell out of you by just teasing again.

You pulled your mouth back from his. “Please, Tom,” you whimpered.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, darling,” he reassured you, and finally completely stopped teasing.

Your climax hit you gradually, waves of pleasure emanating from your core as he fucked you through it, hard and fast. You rolled your hips against him and raked your fingers down his back.

His orgasm hit as yours was at its peak, and his thrusts grew rougher and more erratic as he filled the condom.

You reached up to wipe the sweat off your brow. Both of you were damp with sweat, his curls disheveled and sticking to his forehead.

“You know, you really look gorgeous like this,” you said.

“You don’t look half bad yourself. Thoroughly fucked is a good look on you,” he teased. “Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Oh yeah,” you responded. “I don’t even remember how many times I’ve cum tonight.”

“Four,” he answered. “I was aiming for five, but we still have time tonight. Maybe an even half dozen would be better.”

“Do you think you could get it up again?” you asked.

“For you? Most definitely.” He grinned.

Taglist: @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @relise-thefury @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh

[nightwang96]

Everybody Hurts (Part 2)

Fandom: Batman

Rating: Mature

Prompt: Attempted Rape

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth

Warnings: Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Vomiting

Summary: “I know how it feels,” Dick said softly. He looked up then, meeting Jason’s gaze steadily. “It’s scary. It stays with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, voice thick. He didn’t know what to say. His mouth felt weirdly numb, his tongue too big for his mouth.

This is a sequel to my badthinghappenbingo requested by @bearly-writing so I would suggest reading that first but mind the warnings! :)

Read it on AO3 here!

Read the first part here!

It felt strange to be waking up in his old room. For a moment, he didn’t realise where he was, a sharp gut fear before recognition kicked in.

The last vestiges of a nightmare still clung to his skin, leaving him feeling sticky and gross. He was no stranger to nightmares. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d woken with the taste of earth in his mouth or the phantom ache of broken bones or the sickly green tinge of the pit.

The details of the dream were already fading but he could still remember the sharp tang of fear and the crawling sensation of hands on his skin.

He had to swallow thickly against the salty burst of nausea, digging his fingernails into his inner thigh where finger shaped bruises lay.

He shuddered. It had been a long time since he’d felt this fucked up about something. They hadn’t even done anything really. Touched him a bit. Waved their dicks near him.

Raised skin beneath his fingertips. He’d touched the Y shaped autopsy scars without even thinking about it.

That had fucked him up bad. Coming back to himself - the thick burning anger of the pit fogging his brain - and finding the long neat scars across his chest.

Knowing that someone had cracked him open, had slipped their hands inside him and touched all the parts that should never be touched, had felt deeply violating in a way he didn’t think he’d ever experience again.

The brush of hands on his skin didn’t even come close. So why was he still thinking about it? Still feeling the phantom weight of a body pressed against his back?

The crack of his knuckles as his fists clenched was almost gunshot loud in the dark quiet of his room. It startled him out of the morbid spiralling and sent his heart racing in his chest.

He sat up and pressed his palm against the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling his pulse pounding against his hand, the base of his throat, his eardrums.

He’d wanted to slip out without having to talk to anyone. The talk with Bruce last night had been short but emotional, and Jason wanted nothing more than to escape back to his safehouse and process everything in peace.

It was early enough that he thought he’d gotten away with it, moving through the dark corridors silently - well, almost silently, the cast on his leg made it pretty hard.

When he made it down to the cave though, Dick was waiting for him. He was in the chair by the batcomputer, legs slung over the arm, slouched in a position that looked truly uncomfortable. He was spinning himself slowly, staring down at his lap.

Jason seriously considered just sneaking past him, but at that moment Dick looked up and spotted him, jerking out of the chair like he’d been electrocuted. He looked awful, pale with dark circles under his eyes, his hair flattened on one side and sticking up on the other. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.

“What’s up Dickface?” Maybe if Jason kept this light, Dick would keep the sap to a minimum. He wasn’t getting his hopes up.

“Jay,” Dick started, face pained. “Can we talk?”

It took an almost physical effort for Jason not to roll his eyes. He didn’t even get to reply before Dick was continuing, wheeling the chair over so that Jason didn’t have to stand on his leg.

“Are you okay? Well I mean obviously you’re not okay, I’m really sorry. How are you doing? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Dick breathe,” Jason interrupted. Dick was wringing his hands, looking flustered. “Sit down as well, I don’t want you looming over me like that.”

Dick grabbed another chair and plopped down into it with a heavy sigh. It felt uncomfortable, sitting opposite each other, weirdly intimate. Dick was jiggling his leg, eyes fixed intently on Jason’s face.

“Jay,” he looked like he wanted to reach over and take Jason’s hand.

“I’m fine,” Jason interrupted, before Dick could launch into another tirade. “Honestly, nothing happened.”

Dick grimaced. “It’s okay to not be alright Jay,” he hesitated, “this kind of thing messes with you.”

Irritation scratched its way up Jason’s throat. He didn’t want to be having this conversation, wanted to just go home and be left in peace.

“Yeah well how would you know?” He snapped.

Dick looked down at his hands, rubbing them across his thighs.

“I- I was-“ he swallowed hard, his mouth twisting like he’d eaten something bitter. Jason’s stomach dropped, cold dread prickling across the back of his neck.

“I was raped,” Dick choked out, sounding strangled.

It was like someone had dumped ice down his back. White hot anger roared to life in his chest and scorched his throat till he was breathless with it

“What?” He said. His voice was tight, an iron band around his ribs. “When? Who?”

Dick was chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ve never told anyone before,” he said quietly, “she- she’s not a problem anymore.”

Jason’s heart was pounding, beating against his sternum. An all too familiar green tinge of rage blurring his vision. His knuckles ached with how tight his fists were clenched.

“I know how it feels,” Dick said softly. He looked up then, meeting Jason’s gaze steadily. “It’s scary. It stays with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, voice thick. He didn’t know what to say. His mouth felt weirdly numb, his tongue too big for his mouth. “It’s not really the same though.”

Dick frowned. Jason cut him off before he could say anything.

“What I mean is, I didn’t get-” he found he couldn’t even say the word, was suddenly oddly proud of Dick for managing it. “They didn’t get that far with me.”

Dick shut his eyes tight and blew a sharp breath out of his mouth. “Jay,” he said, low, quiet. “It doesn’t matter okay. They still hurt you.”

It was an echo of what Bruce had said to him last night. He shook his head, made to stand up. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. He didn’t want to be coddled and comforted, he was fine. He hadn’t been-

Hands on his shoulders, pushing gently to keep him in his seat. They were gone in a moment, but embarrassingly, Jason’s breath still hitched.

Dick had sat back down, looking guilty and painfully soft. It just added fuel to the fire already burning in his chest.

“You know,” Dick started before Jason could say anything, “when I was- when she-“ he screwed his face up, puffed his cheeks and then blew the air out in a stream.

Jason stayed quiet. For a long moment the only sound in the room was Jason’s racing heart. He wondered if Dick could hear it too.

“Right after she- raped me I kind of- dated her for a bit I guess?” He laughed but it was humourless, cold in a way that made the hairs on Jason’s arms stand up. “I was going to marry her.”

That sent a jolt through Jason. Dick had been going to marry his rapist?

“Dick,” he said. It sounded strained to his own ears. Dick held his hand up to quiet him.

“I guess I thought that it wasn’t really rape, that it was just… non-consensual,” he grimaced, like the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jason felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach rolled over uncomfortably, throat working as he swallowed against it.

Dick looked down at his lap where he was twisting his fingers together. Flushed, eyes damp, expression haunted.

“I enjoyed it,” he whispered, so quiet that Jason almost couldn’t hear him, “I must have done I mean I- I- got hard.”

Salt burst across his tongue, prickling at the back of his mouth. His stomach bucked. He breathed in deep, pushed himself to stand just as Dick said, a whisper breath.

“I came.”

Jason managed to turn his head to the side in time to throw up on the floor instead of himself. Stomach aching, acid burning up his throat, he coughed. Groaned. A warm hand was resting lightly on his back, rubbing soothing circles.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said when Jason leaned back, panting.

“Don’t apologise,” he croaked. Dick pulled back and Jason turned, catching his fingertips. They were hot between his own.

“I upset you,” Dick murmured, tugging Jason back over to sitting.

“Not your fault,” he grunted. He tried catching Dick’s eye but he was looking stubbornly at his lap. “You know that not how it works right? Just because your body...reacts doesn’t mean that you wanted it.”

Dick smiled. It looked wrong, like he’d borrowed it from someone else and it didn’t fit quite right on his face.

“Yeah, I know that now,” he didn’t exactly sound convincing but Jason wasn’t going to push the point.

“This wasn’t supposed to be about me,” Dick said eventually. “I just meant-“ he looked at him, caught his gaze. Dick’s eyes were red.

“I told you this because for ages I felt like I had to be okay, that because it was a woman and that I didn’t fight back and that I- I enjoyed it, then I didn’t have a right to feel bad.”

Sweat was forming between their joined fingers, clammy and uncomfortable. Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

“I know now that it’s okay to feel upset.”

“I get it,” Jason said gruffly. Dick rolled his eyes.

A quiet cough, polite but purposeful. Jason snatched his hand back, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

“Hey Alfie,” Dick said, looking as flustered as Jason felt. God how much of that had Alfred heard? He didn’t seem like the type to eavesdrop but still, neither of them had heard him enter.

“You’re still here Master Jason,” Alfred said, stepping closer to lay a warm hand on Jason’s shoulder. He looked pleasantly surprised, like he hadn’t expected Jason to stay, but was happy to see him.

Guilt curdled in his aching stomach. Even after all these years upsetting Alfred still made him feel small.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head out now though,” he said. His voice sounded rough to his own ears, thick with emotion. The hand on his shoulder tightened briefly, like Alfred wanted to keep him there, before he let go.

“Master Jason, I insist that you stay for breakfast, when was the last time that you ate?” Alfred’s tone was no nonsense, but Jason knew that if he really wanted to leave Alfred wouldn’t stop him.

He hesitated. He’d missed Alfred’s cooking, had missed Alfred. He didn’t want to have to see anyone else though, could do without the Replacement and Demon Brat asking questions. He also, desperately didn’t want to see Bruce. Even though their conversation last night had been brief, it had been...emotionally draining.

Jason was used to fighting with him. Even now, with their improved relationship, they mostly argued or just ignored each other. Bruce was never going to approve of Red Hood’s methods, even if Jason was trying not to kill people now.

This tentative peace, the genuine concern Bruce had shown, made Jason feel weirdly wrong-footed. Sitting at the table with him and Dick like the old days, with Tim and Damian like one big happy family was not going to happen.

“Everyone else is still in bed,” Alfred said, like the mind reader Jason suspected he was, “I made waffles.”

Damn, how was Jason supposed to turn that down. Dick was grinning at him, the smug bastard. The previous tension had bled out of the room and looking at Dick’s stupid face, Alfred a solid presense beside him, Jason felt a sudden fondness settle in his chest.

“Fine,” he said rolling his eyes. “Help me up Dickface.”

Alfred’s pleased smile made it all worth it.