#sometimes it just shakes me to the core when I realize how alike they are

[steddiealltheway]

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #leave it to Eddie to tell Steve the things he needs to hear #sometimes it just shakes me to the core when I realize how alike they are #like yes. they absolutely have their differences #but at the core they have similar experiences that they need to process #and really I think they need each other #because they’re both so willing to die for others and see the worth in everyone but themselves #but put them together and that worth goes back and forth #I just see them learning a lot from each other #and it’s a really beautiful thing #ANYWAYS #hi guys. thanks for sticking through that massive tag rant thing 💛

[bellamyblake]

makes me sad how little bellarke fics are being made/updated nowadays :( I know it’s natural for fandoms to slow down once the show ends but tbh I didn’t expect it to be this bad, as an author yourself do you think it might be due to the terrible show ending or is there also lack of engagement from the readers?

I think a lot of people pulled away after the finale, that's true but there's also some who did that and after some time came back upon realizing that this final isn't *their* final. Of course that does play some role into it and I understand that people aren't like me, at least not most, I can just ignore it and keep doing what I love, writing fanfic and making gifs. I just love doing that. But others can't because of this and I get it. I've always been able to pull myself away from the narrative, even when the show was still going on. Also over the years I see some stuff differently and come to consider points I haven't before but most people don't do that.

I think part of it is also the culture we live in nowadays. When I first came on Tumblr someone having a multifandom blog was like nah, I won't follow that, I want one specific fandom or two not a whole bunch of them. Now things are different-almost everyone's multifandom and people jump from one thing to another in matter of weeks if not months. It's just the new culture, mostly inspired by the Netflix-and-the-alike providing content. The competition is to post major show after major show or remake something or to make a continuation or a prequel of something that people loved. but the idea is that people loved that one specific OLD thing and they go there because they are nostalgic.

Overall I think the generation changed, and younger folks but not just prefer to jump from one thing to the other without sticking to something. I personally and I know there's also others like me even if they're not a majority, like old stuff, the way things used to be, one episode every week, one or two major fandoms and other stuff they liked. I know that I am like that, I prefer rewatching older shows than watching anything new that doesn't really speak to me and move on to the next a month or two after. I still find more sense in shows that come weekly like All American, SEAL team and others that I follow aka cable shows, than any dragon stuff or period drama things or witch stuff that cast one or two famous names to get the major viewing and hook people up enough to watch their stuff, drop two seasons and then stop it. ( I also have interesting observations on the handmaid's tale and i make them only because I know bruce miller, the executive was the one who was in the writer's room for the 100 and he was the reason why the show got better over time but I find flaws in him too and I find some interesting conclusions there when I watch for myself, anyway that's not important)

I think it just depends on what people like nowadays. I know not as many post fics or headcanons or gifs about the show but I still love writing my fic every day and getting something out there. I love those characters, I love the actors who played them and follow their careers. Most people don't do that. And I think that's one reason why. Then again sometimes after a bad ending some time needs to pass before people can start creating for it again. Just to shake things off. I think the core remains that there's no other couple like bellarke in any other show I've watched. There's similarities and people find them in couples I don't and didn't even back when the 100 was still on (say like Math/ias and N/na from what is it now Sh/adow and bone when I remember the bellarke fandom hated that couple back when the books were out but somehow ppl compare them to bellarke now?? which super weird). I've seen some authors get inspired and write for them again but yes not as many do anymore.

With fanfic there's also that people tell you how to write your fic now. It's not like before in FF.net when you posted and there were no tags, no warnings nothing like that and if people didn't like something they didn't read it.

Simple as that.

For example I'm now afraid to post new chapters of my ark!AU cause I know what I've written and I'm certain people will yell at me about it and that just makes me not want to post it. Other's comments are just *update* and that does little for your motivation.

There's also the fact that there's no fanfic blog to promote writers in this fandom nowadays, even if they're not as many, there's just nothing to bring them together. I know of ppl on twitter who write who I don't see here but they post chapters. There's also no fanfic awards or anything like it to help promote those who write. They're not as few as we think. I believe ppl post and they post good stuff but no many know of them.

Then there's also the issue of smut. A bellarke fic with 90% smut that is posted now gets 10k hits. One that is modern AU or something else gets say 500 hits. So there's the issue of that too on a deeper level.

Overall, I know the fandom is smaller now but frankly, I enjoy that. I don't have the rush to compete with something (I always did better on hiatuses than on showdays) and I know it's something that it's over but I am content creating for it even for 20 people here and 50 on twitter and 30 on Ao3. I'm in no interest of following big netflix productions. I watch them but they do little for me. I just don't feel the soul in them. Maybe i'm old but that's just me.

#answered #sorry nonnie #i could've kept going i guess #but that's it #bellarke #bellarke fandom #bellarke fanfiction

[meltingheartsandcores]

I’m tired, I should be studying, instead I wrote this little ficlet that should probably be the prologue to an actual fic that I might get around to writing (fingers crossed).

We have Immortals, modern sects, and porn. Not entirely sure how else to explain it except none of those are explicit, lol.

Hope you enjoy the product of my mildly sleep deprieved brain!

Being invited to have tea with Zewu-Jun was a high honor, despite the immortal seemingly trying to downplay it as much as he possibly could. However, Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what he’s done to earn the honor. It’s been a long time since either Twin Jade was the Sect Leader, Nie Mingjue has spoken with the current Sect Leader Lan Tengfei infrequently over the years when their sect business intermingled or there was a conference, but he wasn’t particularly close to the Lan Sect. And the Twin Jades enjoy their privacy. Enough so that there’s not a single photograph of either of them out there.

So it was very startingly to get the invitation.

Zewu-Jun treating him like an equal and friend is equally startling.

Somehow, not the most startling thing to happen on the trip. No, that would be the portrait of Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang’s husband. He thinks. Nie Mingjue isn’t actually sure if they’re married or just act like it. Although, knowing them, that’s how they want everyone to think.

Still, the clearly very old portrait of Wei Wuxian was a little disturbing. Especially with the name below being Wei Wuxian’s, correct characters and all. Even more so after Zewu-Jun noticed him staring at it and decides to give him some utterly terrible information.

“My brother’s husband, from his first life.” Oh. It was that Wei Wuxian. Yiling Lazou Wei Wuxian.

How is this getting worse?

“Oh?” Because screaming was undignified and not something to be done in front of immortals. Later. In his car. And then he’s calling Nie Huaisang to yell at him because of course his brother just had to shake up with the immortals husband. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a massive coincidence. (Nie Mingjue’s luck is never good enough for coincidences.)

“Yes, after the resurrection his core was never strong enough to cultivate immortality. When Wangji realized it, he tried to stop his own cultivation, but it was too late. Wuxian lasted nearly two hundred years, and not a day goes by that Wangji doesn’t miss him.” Oh, Zewu-Jun was sad. Nothing Nie Mingjue can say will make him not sad. In fact, he’s pretty sure anything close to the truth of what Wei Wuxian is doing now will just upset him. “The juniors find it, romantic, that he’s decided to wait for Wuxian to be reincarnated.”

Well. It does sound romantic.

But Zewu-Jun’s face, he’s irritated and upset, so clearly he doesn’t agree with the juniors. It sounds romantic, but the reality, “He must be very lonely.” Nie Mingjue guesses.

Zewu-Jun nods, “We have each other, but we were the only ones from our generation to cultivate immortality. There are many people we miss, and as time seperates us further from the present, it’s harder to connect with the new disciples.” Zewu-Jun admits. Nie Mingjue nods, he’s never considered that. How isolating it must be to have lived so long. The Nie clan, doesn’t really get immortals. Honestly, they’re lucky if they hit a hundred. Most top out at eighty due to their cultivation style.

“How would he know, that he’s been reincarnated? I mean, I think Huaisang’s said some things about faces getting reused due to limited genetics and the growing population.” Actually Wei Wuxian said that. Something to that effect at least. Nie Huaisang was better with people and manipulating situations. He does really well running the business side of the Nie Sect. Even if he refuses to accept any credit.

Zewu-Jun smiles a little sadly, “Well, I suppose we’ll know when we see him. Pictures work well enough, as we’re learning. We’ve found a few people who we knew in our first lives reincarnated.”

Nie Mingjue nods, he should tell Zewu-Jun. He really should. Maybe it’s just a look alike. Unlikely. Nie Mingjue’s never that lucky. Nie Mingjue’s started to pull his phone out of his pocket before remembering his manners and asking while holding it in front of himself, “Uh, do you mind if I?” Zewu-Jun furrows his brow but gestures for him to continue. Nie Mingjue nods and opens his phone, scrolling through the pictures Nie Huaisang had sent him. Not for the first time, he really wished Nie Huaisang wouldn’t send so many half-naked or fully-naked pictures of Wei Wuxian to him. Thankfully, it was not all Nie Huaisang sent to him, so he did come across a picture of a fully dressed Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang was also there, but they weren’t doing anything. Nie Huaisang had snapped it while they were out walking and Nie Mingjue had wanted to know where the fuck Nie Huaisang had gone at one am. “Just, uh, he seemed familiar.” Nie Mingjue explains, turning the phone around to show Zewu-Jun.

Zewu-Jun blinks then reaches out, hesitating a moment before taking Nie Mingjue’s phone. “That. Is definitely Wei Wuxian.” Zewu-Jun states, and then he starts touching the screen, which makes Nie Mingjue very nervous and uncomfortable. Because Nie Huaisang sends him very questionable pictures. Nie Mingjue is happy his brother is comfortable with his body, he just wishes he wouldn’t text him explicit pictures of his maybe-boyfriend that sometimes also have him naked in them. Nie Huaisang has always like pushing Nie Mingjue’s boundaries, and honestly, Nie Mingjue would rather he be pushing this one than certain other ones. Still. It makes him nervous when Zewu-Jun taps his phone and his eyes blow wide.

Yeah. That’s not good.

Zewu-Jun blinks and regains his composure, handing the phone back, “May I ask how you know him?”

“...How honest do you want me to be?” Nie Mingjue asks, shutting off his phone and pocketing it without looking at whatever Zewu-Jun saw. He’d like to be able to keep looking Zewu-Jun in the eye for this conversation.

Zewu-Jun raises an eyebrow, almost admonishingly, “As honest as possible. You don’t seem to type to beat around the bush.”

He wasn’t. He just really didn’t want to tell Zewu-Jun what Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian get up to.

“He works with my brother.” Nie Mingjue states vaguely, earning another raised eyebrow from Zewu-Jun.

“Is he a cultivator?”

“Used to be. He had a big falling out with the Jiang a few years back and kind of stopped.” Nie Mingjue shrugs, “He doesn’t talk about it.” All he knew about it was rumour. And the Lans don’t do rumours.

“Ah. So what work does he do with Huaisang?”

...Did he tell Zewu-Jun his brothers name? Nie Huaisang is almost as unknown to the world as the Twin Jades. Purposefully so. The Nie have always been rather private with their members, but when Nie Huaisang was old enough to have an opinion on a public presence and vehemently deny having one, nothing about him was released to the public. Not even other cultivation sects as Nie Huaisang wasn’t a practicing cultivator. He trained. As he was supposed to. But he didn’t do any night hunts. He had no connection to Nie Mingjue on the business end of the Sect either.

So, what?

“How do you know his name?” Nie Mingjue asks, making Zewu-Jun blink in plain confusion. “Huaisang’s name isn’t known to anyone outside the Nie sect. Not in connection to me.” Nie Mingjue states, now a little angry. Did someone tell Zewu-Jun? Who? How? Why would he even care about Huaisang?

“He’s in your phone.” Zewu-Jun states simply.

And that’d be a fine answer.

If Nie Huaisang was ‘Huaisang’ in his phone.

But he wasn’t.

He was Reuben. Courtesy of Wei Wuxian. (Wei Wuxian was ‘Stitch’, no Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the names and he didn’t really want to. He’s mostly worried it’s a weird sex thing and he prefers to be as ignorant as possible in that aspect.)

“I thought Lan’s don’t lie.” Although, Zewu-Jun wasn’t, technically, lying.

But he doesn’t deny it. “Could we sit?” Zewu-Jun suggests, gesturing to the table that had been set up for them. Nie Mingjue nods and sits opposite to Zewu-Jun, pouring them some tea. “I apologize for the deception, however I’ve never actually done this before.” He better not be suggesting what Nie Mingjue thinks he’s suggesting. “In the recent past, when we’ve discovered our reincarnated friends, we’ve more or less left them alone.” Oh. Good. He’s not being propositioned.

Wait.

What?

Nie Mingjue blinks, now thoroughly caught off guard, “Um. What.”

Zewu-Jun smiles gently, understandingly, “Due to certain aspects of your previous life, I felt the need to check in on you, make sure you were doing well. I, well, I assumed your family was the same. Hence, why I know Huaisang’s name despite you keeping him rather off the grid.”

“He’s not off the grid. He just has no public connection to me.” Nie Huaisang was almost constantly online. Especially with his ‘job’.

“Ah. So, what work does he and Wei Wuxian do?” Zewu-Jun asks before taking a drink of his tea.

Nie Mingjue considers what he knows about the Lan, and then realizes he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Luckily for him (or unluckily most of the time), he can just show Zewu-Jun on his phone. “Um, you might want to put that down.” Nie Mingjue suggests, pulling out his phone and turning it on, quickly going to the app Nie Huaisang downloaded on his phone that he never goes on, and opens it up to Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian’s account. Sliding it across the table as Zewu-Jun dubiously puts down his teacup.

Zewu-Jun blinks, then sighs, “I can’t say, I’m particularly surprised with Wei Wuxian’s career choice.”

“...Seriously.”

“You did not hear them. I’m aware of the publics perception of us, particularly Wangji, but trust me. He’s not nearly as prudish as people seem to think.” Zewu-Jun states, sliding the phone back with a rueful smile and a familiar look.

Nie Mingjue exits out of the app before shutting off and pocketing his phone. He knew that look. The look of an elder brother who really didn’t need to know so much about their younger brother’s sex life. He knew that look well. “Right. Speaking of Hanguang-Jun, how would he react?”

Zewu-Jun purses his lips. “I can’t say he’ll be particularly favourable. Wangji’s always been quite, possessive.”

“Wei Wuxian is persuasive. I’m kind of curious as to who would falter first.” Nie Mingjue snorts, picking up his own cup of tea. It was good tea.

Zewu-Jun’s eyebrows were furrowed, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Wuxian’s not going give up his livelyhood. He enjoys it. Even if he falls back in love with Hanguang-Jun, I’m not sure he’ll quit it.” Nie Mingjue states, shaking his head. It was an understatement. Wei Wuxian loves his job. As he so often gushes. Nie Mingjue’s honestly just happy Wei Wuxian doesn’t give him details.

Zewu-Jun slowly nods, understanding dawning, “You think Wei-gongzi will convince Wangji to do porn.” Zewu-Jun winces, “I, hate that I cannot say it’s out of the realm of possibilities.”

Nie Mingjue snorts and then smirks, “Ah, Zewu-Jun, how about a friendly bet?”

Zewu-Jun’s brows pinch slightly, eye narrowing, before he smirks, “Only if you call me Lan Xichen.”

Ohhhkay. Zewu-Jun had said to at the beginning of their meeting, but Nie Mingjue had honestly kind of ignored it. Immortals are a big deal. But then again. He was about to gamble with one. “Ok, Lan Xichen, why don’t we make a bet in favour of our, brothers.” Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what else to refer to them as. If Nie Huaisang was married, then technically Wei Wuxian would be his brother. If they’re not, he might as well be at this point either way.

“Are Huaisang and Wuxian married?” Lan Xichen cuts in, confused.

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe. Not important.” Nie Mingjue shakes his head, “If Hanguang-Jun manages to convince Wei Wuxian to quit his work, you win, and if Wei Wuxian manages to convince Hanguang-Jun to do porn, I win.”

Lan Xichen nods, smiling with interest, “And what are we betting?”

Nie Mingjue smirks, this was going to be fun.

#Lan Xichen #Nie Mingjue #implied sangxian #implied previous wangxian #lxc #nmj #cql #The names in Mingjue’s phone are not a sex thing #It’s just the characters from Lilo and Stitch #They’re not that mean to nmj #My writing

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 6

Word Count: 2271 || Read on AO3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Emotional Hurt

No violence. Only ✨emotions✨

Obi-Wan woke in a room not his own with the smell of blaster-fire and charred flesh in his nose, tasting it on his tongue so clearly that it nearly made him sick. He exhaled one long, slow breath that did nothing to purge the lingering traces of his nightmares, and opened his eyes to thick, black darkness. His brows furrowed, frowning as he struggled to clear the sleep-haze from his mind, a task that had grown considerably harder over the years. He spared a brief, token effort on remembering what he might have done, or where he’d gone, the day before to find himself in a stranger’s home, but only shrugged it off when nothing came to mind.

Perhaps, he mused with only a touch of sardonic humor, the suns’ heat had finally gotten to him and he’d broken into some poor farmer’s home. Whose, he hadn’t the faintest idea considering he only really visited one and this was, most certainly, not the Lars’ farmstead. He would know, he’d been inside once after all — a week spent in a guest room as he’d delivered little Luke to his aunt and uncle. Any subsequent visits had been … difficult.

Luke looked so much like his father sometimes.

He sighed, shoving the thought forcefully away, and focused once more on the room, straining see a little better. The walls, he noticed first, were bare except for a few occupied shelves whose contents he couldn’t even begin to guess at. A single window peered out into the world, tinted black by a light-blocking feature he remembered using … Before. The floor was much the same: spartan, with only a low table in one corner with a cushion to sit on and the bland bed roll he’d woken on. A bitter tang of nostalgia crawled up his throat, lodging there like a bottle’s stopper, and he struggled to swallow around it.

Shoving that away too, he clambered inelegantly to his feet — noticed he still wore the rattier robe and tunics he hadn’t been able to bring himself to eschew along with everything else — and made his way to the room’s singular exit. The door opened with barely a brush of his palm over the panel next to it. He made to move out into the home proper with a steadying hand laid on the frame’s cool metal. And froze.

“Anakin?”

His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, almost too soft to carry across the larger living space to the spitting image of the little boy he’d raised, failed, and left behind, burning on a bank of churning magma on Mustafar. He couldn’t breathe, lungs seizing and stuttering as they refused to work. He gripped the door’s frame harder, knuckles white and fingers little more than pricks of insignificant pain where they dug into the sharper edges. Anakin’s screaming roared in his ears, violent hatred and pain alike with faint echoes of the single plea he’d let slip from his lips somewhere in between before Obi-Wan had turned his back and waled away.

Anakin — oh Force it was Anakin — twisted around on his cushion, one hand braced on the long, low table in front oh him while the other lay flat on the floor, when he heard his name called. Obi-Wan’s gaze caught on his Padawan-braid, so short still that it barely brushed the boy’s — a boy. He was just a boy now, younger than twelve and a picture-perfect replica of the child who lived only in Obi-Wan’s memories and Luke’s shadow — shoulder.

“Master!” Anakin flashed him a bright grin, his blue eyes practically glittering with the strength of his joy. “You’re awake! Finally,” he said, excitement turning to a familiar teasing tone that tore Obi-Wan’s heart to shreds. “I almost thought you’d sleep for forever, and then who’d help with my lessons?”

The boy’s nose scrunched, his distaste for his lessons made clear in the way the word dropped from his mouth like a particularly foul piece of rotted food. Obi-Wan swayed where he stood, mouth suddenly drier than Tatooine’s desert as he stared. Then, faintly and feeling all too much like the very words he spoke had stolen free from him without permission, he said:

“Master Windu would, he’s told me so many times himself. He does so enjoy your company.”

It was a joke, one of several he’d indulged in often after having noticed Anakin’s distrust of the Council. A reassurance as much as something to make the boy laugh. Mace Windu had never told him he’d help with any of Anakin’s lessons, but Obi-Wan had never once seen the Master turn a youngling down when they asked him for help. Oh, he thought with a painful pang in his chest, Mace had loved the younglings, from the tiniest initiates in the Crèches all the way to the padawans, no matter what his severe countenance might have portrayed. He’d tried so hard to show that to Anakin, to teach him that Jedi — even and especially the Council — were, at their core, kind and compassionate. Had his Padawan ever truly known that, or was it another failure to be laid at Obi-Wan’s feet?

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m a heard of Bantha,” he said with a snicker. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched despite how he wanted to be sick.

“You certainly smell like one,” Obi-Wan replied by rote, more of a murmur than the steady sarcasm he’d once thrown at his Padawan. Anakin squawked regardless, all faux-offense as he puffed himself up for a comeback, but deflated suddenly to squint at him instead.

“Are you feeling alright? You look…” Anakin floudered for a moment and settled on a bland, hesitant, “not good.”

“I,” Obi-Wan started. Stopped. Swallowed. “No,” He admitted, slow. Reluctant. “No, Padawan, I don’t think I am.”

The trembling in his hands hadn’t stopped and his chest still hurt and his stomach had managed to twist itself into nauseating knots as he stood there, still in the open doorway to the room, he realized, that had once been his at the Temple. Anakin’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, anxiety flowing off him in sharp, erratic waves that only further soured the bitter, ashen taste in Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“Do you need a healer? Are you hurt? Kriff, uh, should I— I mean— I’ll go grab someone, Master, I’ll be right back, okay? Real quick, I—”

“No!” Obi-Wan winced. He hadn’t meant to shout. Hadn’t meant to put that hurt, wide-eyed look on his Padawan’s face. He’d just —

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s familiar, blue lightsaber cut through another Jedi, horror curdling in his stomach. It was all he could do not to be sick, but he forced himself to continue looking at the security feed Master Yoda had found. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t be blind to this any more than he could turn back time and undo it. So he watched, ill, as his former Padawan, his friend, his brother, cut down Jedi after Padawan after Initiate until none at all remained in the place they had both called home.

“No,” he croaked, softer, blinking back the stinging heat in his eyes. He lifted the hand not helping keep him upright, clammy and shaking much more obviously than before, and made as if to reach out but stopped short. “No,” he said again, so low he barely heard himself, pulling his hand back to clutch at the fabric over his chest and wondered if he’d suffocate on his feet.

“Master?”

Anakin sounded so scared even as he took a tentative step forward, his hands fisted into the hem of his tunic. Obi-Wan wanted to rush to his side, to comfort him as he’d once done so many years ago. He wanted to run, to flee from the face of this apparition — the ghost of a boy who’d chosen to become a monster because he’d failed as a Master. He wanted to fall to his knees and weep: for this boy, for himself, for the scores of Jedi massacred to mark the end of an unjust war. For the galaxy being crushed under a Sith’s oppressive thumb. For the children of his former student, who would be called upon one day. Who would lose friends and family alike as they worked to dismantle the bloody legacy left to them.

He almost didn’t notice when his legs gave out, choking on his own ragged, wet breaths as Anakin cried out, alarmed, and ran to his side. Obi-Wan flinched away from those small, calloused hands when they reached for him, curling into himself as he struggled to breathe, but his Padawan was nothing if not determined.

He gasped when Anakin’s fingers brushed his arm, searing his skin through three layers of worn fabric. Whined when they traveled up to his shoulder, and hissed, a pained and wounded sound torn from him when Anakin pressed the palm of his hand to the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. Slowly, with a care he’d rarely seen in his Padawan, Anakin maneuvered himself in front of him, hunched and twisting as the hand on Obi-Wan’s neck pulled until he’d knocked their foreheads together.

How long had it been since he’d sat so near another sentient being he trusted? Since he’d been touched so familiarly? Kindly? Luke, perhaps. Little more than a toddler, freely affectionate with the man who’d carried him across the stars and sands to the home he’d remain in.

Obi-Wan didn’t settle. Didn’t calm. His breathing hitched and every inch of him shook so hard he thought his bones might rattle right out of his skin. The stinging bite of fresh tears lingered in his eyes and every limb was weighed down with the same deep exhaustion that had dogged him since he’d left Luke with the Lars’ and lost the only source of immediate responsibility he might have distracted himself with. He did, however, reach forward. Brushed his fingers over the front of Anakin’s tunic and felt the rough material, caustic and abrasive against the suddenly sensitive digits.

“Are you—” Obi-Wan swallowed painfully, his own saliva turning to grains of coarse sand. “Is this real?” he asked, whisper soft and broken. “Are you real, Anakin?” His padawan pressed harder against him in response, puffing out an incredulous breath.

Obi-Wan wondered if he’d melt from the heat of his brother-friend-Padawan’s touch, as skin-crawling as it was a burning, aching comfort for all it seemed to set him further on edge.

“I’m real,” Anakin said, voice strangled. Obi-Wan could taste his fear. Felt it soak into his skin and curl around his heart. “I’m real, Master, I promise. I’m here. I’m real.”

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked on the name as a sudden desperation washed over him, urging him to reach out further. To pull and clutch and hold his Padawan as close as he could, breathing raggedly against his short, brown hair as Anakin hid his own face against his neck, letting a few tears soak into the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic. He rocked them both, letting Anakin hold on to him as to him as fiercely as he did his Padawan.

An eternity might have passed there between them as Anakin cried and Obi-Wan babbled — apologies and reassurance and a half dozen other words he’d meant to tell his Padawan over the years tumbling clumsily from his tongue — until the intensity eased, leaving them tired and tangled up together against the room’s cool wall. Obi-Wan let his eyes slip closed, just for a moment. Let himself soak in his brother’s presence, young and bright and much too old to be held like this, half asleep and slumped over him. But he didn’t let go.

He brushed his fingers over Anakin’s hair, short and bristly except for the bundle tied back into a short nerftail, and breathed in the citrus scent of the hair products his Padawan had favored those first few years in the Temple. Leaning his head back against the wall, he let himself drift into his thoughts. Into the Force. Out past the confines of the room, through the halls, and across the Temple, jaw clenching as he felt the bright, living presence of hundreds of Jedi. Thousands. So many his head spun.

His breathing hitched, and he wrapped his arms a fraction tighter around his Padawan. Strained to squeeze his eyes closed harder until he saw blurry, red shapes dance across the darkness behind his lids.

It felt so real.

This. His Padawan. The sights, smells, sounds, even the taste of the Temple’s chill air. Anakin had said he was real. Obi-Wan had squeezed him, had him currently in his arms safe and close and whole. He shuddered, exhaling a wavering, wet breath.

Perhaps, he let himself hope as he drew back to himself, it had been a vision. A warning from the Force — a life lived in the span of a few hours’ sleep. He let the thought comfort him, burying his nose in his Padawan’s hair as sleep slowly claimed him.

Obi-Wan woke in a room he recognized, the sweet, tangy scent of citrus thick in his nose, so vivid he could practically taste it. He exhaled one long, slow breath, letting himself savor it for a moment longer, and opened his eyes to bright light, sandy-colored walls, and the sweltering, suffocating heat of Tatooine’s long, dry days. His fingers curled into the rough, thin, ragged bedroll he’d all but tossed himself into the night before. Alone. Utterly and completely alone.

For the first time since his family were slaughtered at the hands of his student,

Obi-Wan wept.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #touch starved #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #fic #emotional distress #my fanfic

[siennahrobek]

Future Past

5 BBY

(Luke is approximately 14 years old)

Lothal was a bit of a strange place to stop, on account of being so bustling with the Empire’s presence. However, for some reason, Ben had insisted on a short stop there and lured him in with that mischievous smirk he would get sometimes and a mention of a surprise. And Luke supposed, he could use the distraction. Of anything, really.

It had been hard; so soon after Ben had forced Boil to leave them. Boil had been Luke’s friend, in a way that he had never had before. He and Ben didn’t stay on a planet long enough for Luke to actually make friends, but Boil had stayed with them for months and it was turning into routine. It became normal. Even squishing him into their little ship wasn’t too bad; Luke was just too happy about just having someone else around. Of course, Qui-Gon stopped by once in a while, but he couldn’t hold his form for very long and generally, he only came when he had something to teach. Luke had been so happy for those couple of months, having someone around to talk to and help and teach and be taught by. He loved Ben, of course, he did, with so much, but there was a difference.

And suddenly that was taken away.

And Luke had been very upset.

After Boil had been sent away, Luke didn’t talk to Ben for nearly a week and even after that, it was only necessary exchanges between them. Which led to their trip to Lothal where they barely made it past the strict incoming traffic regulations and landed in the middle of nowhere.

Meditation, Luke presumed with a frown and the roll of his eyes.

Ben took nothing with him, just gestured for Luke to follow him out into the grasslands. And, as of course, he did, and they walked in silence through the tiny civilization which he knew would be leading out into the actual, literal, middle of nowhere. At least, until Ben had spotted something that had interested in him. After telling Luke to stay where he was and the younger man returning that request with a long, irritated whine and near rebuttal, Ben had left him in the market, hidden away in an alley until he got back.

It wasn’t just hard because of Boil leaving, although that was the core of it. It wasn’t just because Luke had lost pretty much the only friend, he had made that he knew Ben would trust. But Luke had been a bit bitter towards his guardian. Things were a bit more strained than usual, and Luke was holding onto his feelings. The ones that were so upset and angry that he felt like sometimes he could just explode.

Because he finally, finally, had a friend that Ben would approve of. Sure, he was older like Ben, but it was a start, it was something. It was even a person that Ben cared about and trusted. But then he just sent him away and Luke was struggling on forgiving Ben for that.

Lost in thought and his bitterness, Luke was a bit too late to notice the being creeping up on him but realized just enough for avoid the stun coming his way. He didn’t get a good look at his opponent who tried to flip him…only for Luke to bring the being with him and flipped him as well.

It hurt. And no doubt it hurt the other guy too.

The ensuing fight was rather brutal, and Luke had a feeling if he hadn’t been shown so many hand-to-hand moves by Boil, he would have lost. Well, if the fight had gone on any longer than the few moments that it had, he probably would have lost. At least, if Luke hadn’t used the Force. But that would blow their cover.

It was sharp and ruthless with fast strikes that were almost always some kind of hit, whether or not it was the area that it was intended. And for absolute certain, Luke knew he would hurt and be so sore tomorrow. Well, if he liveduntil tomorrow. And by the way things were going with this fight, he wasn’t entirely so sure he would.

“Luke!”

“Echo!”

The two of them had stopped so abruptly that they both stumbled, nearing falling over one another as they tripped over themselves to stand up and move away, one from the other. Luke felt like he was coughing up the dust the two fighters had kicked into the air, but it was difficult to get enough air in his lungs. He was tired. Ben and another trooper, longer hair and a bandana were standing in their sight line, looking quite unimpressed and frowning, expectantly.

“Ben!”

“General Kenobi?”

Luke’s head whipped around to the side, where his opponent was, eyes wide and shocked. The man had ripped off his dark helmet to stare and Luke tried to prevent his double take. Because…. well, because he looked like Boil. Well, not exactly. He didn’t really have much in the way of hair and his skin was a bit ashen, but they looked so similar. Meaning this was a clone. Luke glanced back at Ben and the other man. Another clone.

“Echo,” Ben greeted, quiet and soft with a slight bow. His presence softened at the sight of this former soldier that he knew but he was still guarded, shielded. Luke struggled to understand this sometimes, but Ben had believed the clones had betrayed the jedi and killed all of his family and people for well over a decade. That caution wasn’t just going to go away. But he was trying, and he did his best. “It is good to see you alive and well.”

“Is it?” the clone – Echo – sputtered, obviously a bit surprised at the statement. “Because I have a hard time being glad to see…people like us, knowing what happened.” Luke knew what he was alluding to; how could he not. Everyone knew what had happened, even though there were different stories surrounding it, depending on who one heard it from.

“I know about the chips,” Ben swallowed as his eyes softened further in grief, something misty and far away, like he wasn’t quite in the present. It was for everyone involved, rather tragic. The jedi dead and the troopers brainwashed; the galaxy gone and under the tyranny of the new Galactic Empire. “We found out a few months ago. I am so sorry.”

“I feel like I should be saying that to you,” Echo muttered, shaking his head while the other clone just looked between the both of them. He wondered who he was exactly and how he knew them. “I shouldn’t be surprised you are alive. The 212thalways had rumors about you.”

“Rumors?” Ben mused, an eyebrow raising curiously.

“Yeah. Some of them thought you were unkillable.”

Ben scoffed with several different and varying emotions running through it, some Luke couldn’t quite identify with any amount of certainty. “That is rather ridiculous but, I suppose, their faith in me is… it would have been nice, if things hadn’t worked out the way they did,” Ben said. “I hear you are chasing a bounty. On Luke and myself.”

Echo blinked and shot a glance at Luke before turning back to Ben. “Uh… yes sir. Although, in our defense, we didn’t know it was you.”

“No worries,” Ben shrugged and tucked his hands into the large sleeves of the overcoat of his robe. “And I think you can drop the sir. I am no longer your superior officer, much less a general.”

Echo just smirked faintly. “Of course, sir.”

“Hunter and I just wanted to make sure you and Luke didn’t kill each other,” Ben responded, his tone filling with a form of amusement. “Would you mind keeping him company or entertained while we speak?”

The trooper just nodded. As the two of them walked off to have their talk with the assurance that the clone and boy did not, in fact, kill one another or would for that matter, Echo turned back towards Luke and tried to smile, offering his good hand for Luke to shake. He did, of course. It was only polite. “Sorry about, ya know, hitting you in the face, kid.”

“You can call me Luke,” the younger boy replied but he forced himself to look at him. It was a bit difficult with the similar facial structure of his friend. They looked virtually nothing alike aside from that. Boil had more hair and a bit of a scowl, and his presence was oh so vastly different. Neither were bad or better, but it just kind of made Luke miss Boil. “I’m sorry for nearly busting your vambrace,” he added, gesturing towards the slightly sparking tech inside. Echo just winced but then shrugged and pulled up his other arm which…had a machine attached to it.

“I’ve got it,” he added as he started to poke at it. “Those moves looked familiar. Considering General Kenobi knew about the chips, I guess it is safe to say that you two came in contact with some troopers.”

Luke nodded.

“Anyone I might know?”

“I don’t know in particular if you knew them,” Luke replied as the two of them walked through the little marketplace, slow and steady. Echo continued to work a bit on his partially broken vambrace, and Luke kept his gaze on the varying items that were out for sale in the market. “Commander Cody and Sergeant Boil we found on Vader’s ship.”

The clone paused and stared at him, just kicking up as he stopped in his tracks. Luke paused enough to glance at him, a bit startled. “That…is a lot to unpack. I’m going to skip over the whole Lord Vader thing for now. Cody is alive?”

Luke hesitated and looked away. “No. He’s not.”

Echo sagged in disappointment, but they continued to walk. “Oh…so you…you learned some stuff from the other guy, Boil.”

“He was a part of the 212th, Ben’s immediate battalion,” Luke explained. He didn’t know if Echo knew in particular but he just thought it would be best to clarify. “He was with us for several months before Ben sent him away. He taught me some things and told me a ton of stories. About Ben and the 212th, about Cody, about him and his brother Waxer and all the others.”

“You like stories?”

Luke tried not to look sheepish when he nodded in affirmation.

Echo just grinned. “I have plenty of stories. And trust me, they are some of the most insane and fantastical stories you will hear. My brother, Fives, and I were amidst all sorts of action alongside our general. They called him the Hero with No Fear and he was…something else. His name was Anakin Skywalker.”

*

Luke barely got to hear a fraction of what Echo had to offer and it just made him even more upset when Ben told him they had to go their separate ways. He wanted more. He needed more. Echo was fun and his stories great and they were about his father! Oh, he wanted to know more!

But Ben was stern, and Hunter was anxious to get back to the rest of their party. Luke somehow convinced them to give the two jedi a ride to their destination, which Ben very reluctantly finally caved to. Luke had a few more minutes and he would use it to the best of his ability. Their destination, as Ben pointed out, was a fairly natural looking structure for Lothal’s environment and the two clones had left near immediately after dropping them off. Luke’s heart just felt heavy.

Ben explained that it was a Jedi Temple and that they would both have to use the force to make the entrance known. It took them a fair amount of time, possibly due to their conflicting feelings on the past events and Luke’s bitterness. But, eventually, it happened and the Temple unraveled to reveal its door way, coming up from the ground.

Ben didn’t say a word.

They walked in. It was musty and disgusting but there was a brief and faint scent of freshness, possibly from someone opening the Temple recently. At least before the last two hundred years. Luke voiced this out loud.

“I would believe so,” Ben hummed as he looked around, running a hand along one of the pillars with a kind of sad reverence. “This is a Jedi Temple and I do believe we will find some guidance here.”

“Guidance for what?”

“Whoever knows,” Ben replied, letting the torches light up in small flickers of flames that lit their way. There were a few skeletons around the floor near the columns. Neither of them tried to look at them, rather avoided them and kept walking deeper. “The Force may use the Temple for varying lessons for any one of us and it is a good place to be to learn something. I dare say you could use some guidance that is not from me.”

Luke just glanced away and swallowed.

It hadn’t been easy between the two of them, that was for sure.

“Are we…splitting up?”

“Your journey is your own,” Ben replied, calm and kind, although there was something underneath that Luke couldn’t identify. “Just as mine will be mine. Why don’t you start that way? It smells less musty.”

Luke glanced to where he gestured. “Okay,” he replied and looked back to Ben, but he had already disappeared. Even for someone at his age with as much grey hairs as he had, he was surprisingly quick and sneaky. “Okay,” he repeated to himself with a sharp exhale. He turned towards the doorway and took one of the torches before heading in.

He didn’t know how long he walked or how he lost his torch. For a while, he was in the dark. Everything was so silent it was eerie and rather disturbing, making Luke exceptionally uncomfortable.

And then. And then things changed.

And that change was so sudden and so real and the reason he was here seemed to mush in his mind. He didn’t exactly remember where he was or what exactly he was supposed to be doing. But he stopped when he felt it. Luke stepped into a gorgeous garden, grass tickling at his legs, soft and lush with the crashing of waterfalls bubbling over his ears. It was a sound he would never get bored of; ever since the first time he had seen one. There were walkways winding around the land, with patches of flowers and a few trees, full bearing of fruit and leaves, dotting the grounds. It was so beautiful.

He wanted to know off his boots and just…relish in the feeling.

It was warm here. Not the kind of heat that was oppressive and ongoing and just made one want to lie down in their room and not move, ever. But the kind that would come and go just enough for comfort, something of joy and kindness. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, taking in those good feelings and the brisk freshness of the air.

There was a joyful shout, and he opened his eyes. Ther were children running over a hill chasing one another and reaching out with huge grins on their faces and sparkling eyes full of laughter and playfulness. Luke blinked.

And then again.

There were…people here?

He paused and stared in wonderment. Maybe…maybe they were jedi. They were in a Temple. Right? That was where he was. Right, right, he and Ben had went into a Jedi Temple. Made sense, perhaps, that there would be remnants of jedi here…right?

Maybe there were survivors.

Survivors, Luke thought numbly. It sounded too good to be true. He had to find Ben. He had to tell him what he had discovered.

“Luke!” a voice called, cheerfully. He spun around and stared at the being, blankly as a he strode up; a Kel Dor if he wasn’t mistaken, walked to him, hands tucked into his sleeves, similar to the way Ben did when he was wearing a large cloak. “Initiate Luke,” he corrected with a chuckle and although his face was incapable of smiling with the mask that he wore, Luke was pretty sure he was grinning on the inside.

“Initiate?” Luke echoed, questioningly.

“Yes,” the being chuckled again and gestured to him up and down. “The step before becoming a padawan, of course.” Luke looked down at the light-colored tunics he was in. These…were not his clothes.

“I can be a padawan?” he murmured.

“Of course!” the Kel Dor teased but he sounded warm and kind, although a bit surprised on Luke’s questioning about his place here. “You have done very well in your classes. You are well on your way to becoming a great jedi.”

“There are no more jedi…besides Ben,” Luke replied numbly as his mind sparked. Of course, Ben. That was what he was supposed to do. He needed to find Ben, tell him about this, about these…jedi he had discovered. At least, Luke thought they were jedi.

“Nonsense, Initiate,” the Kel Dor said, with a light shake of his head, amusement filling his voice. He waved around the garden, gesturing to other beings that had now entered and were mingling around. There were so many, of different ages and appearances and species. Most were speaking to one another, in groups of two to several. “There are many,” he assured as he made Luke look. “And you must only choose.”

“Choose?” he sounded too much like an echo.

“A master.”

Sure enough, some of those around were speaking with children that were dressed like Luke. Some were hugging, being led away by the respective masters with their hand or appendage in the other’s. They were choosing and being chosen, Luke realized. Initiates being chosen as padawans. Initiates choosing their masters.

“I can choose?”

“Well,” the being pointed out as he put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. He nearly startled; only Ben and Boil had generally touched him. The Kel Dor didn’t seem to notice. “It is a mutual thing. However, I was hoping to ask you.”

“Ask me?”

“To be my padawan,” the master suggested and turned to face him straight on. “You are kind, driven and compassionate. You would do well under my tutelage. What do you say, Initiate? Would you like to be my padawan?”

Luke stared for an embarrassingly long time because that just…it seemed impossible. He had always wanted to be a jedi; especially a padawan, for as long as he knew what a padawan was. Ben never technically denied him outright or said no. Rather, he would just tell him how dangerous that term was, and they had better not speak of it again. Luke didn’t always listen. “I…I’m sorry, sir – master – but I don’t think so. I need to find my guardian.”

“Unfortunate,” the master hummed, shaking his head and he sounded genuinely disappointed. Luke hated doing that to him but something about this just didn’t seem right. Something else at play. “Good luck, I suppose then. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

“I’m looking for Ben,” Luke replied, glancing around. When he turned back, the Kel Dor was gone. It was like he had disappeared right out of the thin air. After what Luke had seen Ben do, he couldn’t be terrible surprised if the jedi had been capable of that, but he thought it was rather unlikely. “This is rather strange.”

“Quite not,” someone else said. Another master was behind him again and Luke turned around towards him. He was older, with long greying hair.

“Master…?” he questioned.

He frowned. “Master Drallig. Better work on that memory, initiate. A master will not want to train a child who cannot even remember their name.”

“Yes master,” he replied.

“You are up next.”

“Up?”

“The Exhibition match,” Master Drallig frowned deeper. “Come on, initiate! Get your head in the game! Prospective masters are watching.”

“Of course. Of course,” Luke nodded and jogged off to where the master gestured. Even though he had no idea where this was, what was happening or what exactly he was supposed to be doing, his body seemed to know, and he just moved with it. He spent hours in the exhibition, sparring and fighting against other students, moving on to next rounds as he won bouts.

It was like he had been training and readying himself for this for his entire life. And it was an amazing feeling.

Luke didn’t know if he won the exhibition match or, rather, if anyone had or could. He just remembered doing several fights and moving on until he found himself back in the depths of the garden again, away from the tournament itself and amidst other masters. He was having an increasingly difficult time reminding himself that this wasn’t real and his goal here.

All he knew was that this was his chance to become a padawan.

He just had to find someone that felt right.

So, Luke went through the garden, every so often someone asking him to be their padawan but none of them felt quite right. Or perhaps they felt too right to be true. It hardly mattered; something niggled in the back of his mind, reminding him he had a goal and a purpose. He just kept forgetting what that was exactly. He was getting desperate. Nothing felt quite right. But he was running out of time and options. It was getting harder to say no. By the time Qui-Gon Jinn came around with his request, there were barely any masters left. He was so kind and gentle and a familiar face. Luke wanted to wrap himself in the cloak like he did with…

Ben!

Luke stuttered and took off, leaving Master Jinn without an answer. Rude, perhaps, but Luke was running out of time. He had to find Ben. Because Ben. The light that appeared before him was blinding and devastating but Luke knew. He knew. It was his father.

“Hey kiddo.”

Luke swallowed. This…this was something he had always wanted. To meet his father. It seemed like an impossible dream. Because it was. Impossible.

His father began to speak and oh! Was Luke so starstruck! It was his father! The famous jedi! The hero with no fear! Ben’s friend, his brother…

Luke stopped.

Ben.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out. “I can’t talk. I have to find Ben.”

His father stared at him with a serious frown, his face perfect and smooth, with the locks of his hair framing his face that made Luke too easily calm. He looked right; perfect. Like Luke had always imagined his father to be. There was something missing about his face, but Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on what. He supposed, at this point, it hardly mattered. “Isn’t this what you always wanted? Your greatest dream? To meet me? To talk to me?”

“I have to find Ben before it’s too late,” Luke tried to reason, and he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from his father to look around for his guardian.

“So, he’s more important than me? I am your father!”

“And I want to be a jedi. Like you. Like Ben.”

“I can teach you, I can teach you much better than that insecure relic of an age long gone,” his father insisted, determined and strong. Luke’s brows just scrunched together with a deepening frown because that didn’t quite sound right. His father loved Ben, they were friends, brothers. He couldn’t imagine him saying something rather rude and disrespectful like this about him. “I am your father.”

“I know,” Luke replied with a hard swallow. So much was running through his head. It was so hard to keep track. “But this…I need to do this. I want to be a jedi and that means sacrifice. Letting go.”

His father reeled back and scowled, his eyes blazing with heat and color and lines scratching into the sides of his face, barely noticeable but it was almost all Luke could see. “You would trade this – everything you ever wanted – me, the jedi, this world, for him?”

“This isn’t real,” Luke responded, sadly as he forced himself to stare at his father, into his eyes. Direct and resolute. “And Ben…even if he wasn’t destined to be my jedi master, I would choose him every time,” he backed away, one foot after another. It had started out slow, but he knew he didn’t have a lot of time. “I will still dream of truly meeting you,” he said and then began to run. It was all he could do to keep himself from staying, from staying and losing everything else but the feeling of dreams. All he could feel was the heat burning into his back as he ran off. And he just kept running. His feet began to ache, and he tripped over them in embarrassing frequency.

“Ben!”

Nothing.

“BEN!”

Still nothing. There was no one in sight of the garden anymore.

“Ben! Please!” he begged, finally tripping to a halt. He nearly fell, exhausted and out of breath as he tried to catch up. He didn’t have much more time; it was running out. “Please. Please. I just…I just want to be a jedi.” His chest started to heave, and tears threatened to overtake his vision. “Please.”

There was a brief silence.

“Well, if a jedi is all you wanted to be, there were plenty of masters willing to teach you. I have no doubt you had plenty of offers.”

Luke scrambled to turn because that voice; oh he knew that voice. “Ben!” he cried, happily, tears coming out in relief as he caught sight of his guardian. He looked a bit younger, less weary. The bags under his eyes were less noticeable and the only real wrinkles around his face were that in the corners of his eyes from smiling.

“Hello, Beacon.”

“I want to be a jedi,” he promised as he got closer to him. “I hope you never question my commitment.”

Ben hummed. “You have made your desire to become a jedi rather clear. You had plenty of chance. Master Koon, Master Jinn, even your father.”

“You saw that?”

He smiled but shrugged. “You said no to all of them. Why?”

“Because of you.”

“I’m holding you back?” he asked, incredulously. He looked torn and almost offended, almost horrified at the prospect. It was laughable to Luke but apparently Ben had taken that very seriously. Luke wondered what that meant; why he would react in such a way.

Luke choked out a laugh and shook his head, rather vehemently. “No Ben. Never. I didn’t want anyone else. And I know it’s important. You are always my choice. You were always my choice.”

Present Past

Luke

Iyah, one of the slaves that Siri and Luke had freed from the little temporary quarters that the troopers had been held in had a hiding place for them until the group figured out what to do next. Siri still had her disguise of a slave trader and with all the traffic and bustle of the up-and-coming auction, it was easy to move and blend in with the crowds when Luke and Siri’s smoke bombs erupted upon Luke’s presence being found missing. Iyah’s former master had died as of recently and she was in the auction house because her master’s family was going to sell her. It would be some time before the rest of the family went through all of his things and house, so they had a fairly secure hiding place until then. Luke didn’t think that they would be at the house that long.

The smoke from their little distraction is noticeable, even to those out in the streets and far from the palace but they were practically harmless. Just enough to mask their presence and allow them to escape. Wrapping the troopers in cloaks, they moved through the curious crowds that watched as the smoke puffed from the palace windows and doors.

The house that Iyah brings them to is out of the way and not something that someone would come to immediately, as it is just a bit off the streets. The other slaves mostly huddled on their own, leaving the jedi and troopers to their own devices but Iyah just eyes Luke up, warily and announces her intention to make food for everyone as she comes back to bring them a first aid kit; probably one that she knew her master had on hand. Most beings had something of the sort.

“You don’t have to do that, ma’am,” Captain Rex tried to assure her quickly, in some attempt to convince her that she had nothing to fear from them; that she had no obligation to feed any of them.

Luke met her eyes for a moment, and she frowned at the trooper, but she doesn’t say anything. She just turned and nearly stormed back to the kitchen.

Fives was itching to speak, to ask for answers. Luke didn’t have to be force sensitive to know how eager and pressed he was for such things. He didn’t want to explain everything at the moment; he hurt, and he was tired, but he knew it was inevitable. Eventually, Fives could not quite continue to keep it all in. It hadn’t been long. Most of them were still trying to just catch their breath.

“I think it is about time you tell us what is going on,” Fives started, his jaw clenching. If nothing else, Luke had to admire his persistence and pursuit for answers and justice.

Luke sighed and tried to sit up further. They were all on the floor, mostly collapsed over themselves in their exhaustion but Waxer helped him and let him lean against his solid shoulder. “I can tell him about some things, if you want,” he suggested, gently.

The boy knew the trooper was being genuine. Boil had told Luke so much about Waxer in the months that he had with him, and he didn’t seem to downplay how kind and good Waxer was. Luke hoped he could keep him alive, if only for Boil’s sake but he couldn’t help but value him above and beyond. He hadn’t been around for long but trusting Waxer felt near like second nature.

“I knew you were keeping secrets,” Fives frowned at the Lieutenant, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Waxer, took it in stride, barely shrugging and projecting a show of simple acceptance. Fives kept going with a stream of questions and a demand for answers. “What do you know? What is going on? Does this have anything to do with what happened with Krell? Or why we were put under him and not ourGeneral. Or how about the fact that General Kenobi came back to the Resolute on a stretcher?”

“One at a time, Fives,” Rex interrupted, flatly with a tired sigh. It perhaps, wasn’t exactly the right thing to say at the moment.

“And you, you have been keeping secrets too,” Fives shot at him, his frowning deepening. He was so frustrated and scared; Luke could feel it. He couldn’t entirely blame the trooper; the situation was intense and strange. Sometimes with one’s most intense emotions, in the moment, they could not be shielded. It was easier for a jedi because they trained for that sort of thing, but most other beings didn’t even know the existence of shields; not really. “You know it as well but decided, hey, let’s not tell your troops. Maybe some of them would still be alive if you had.”

Rex’s jaw clenched and Luke lurched forward, ready to defend. It wasn’t his fault and Luke hardly thought it mattered knowing what he knew would have changed anything. Luke hadn’t known specifically Krell was a traitor or any specifics on the Umbara campaign but that didn’t make the losses they encountered hurt any less.

“Enough,” Master Tachi nearly barked. She was still standing for a moment and towered over the rest of them, coming back from getting some pillows and blankets from the others. They weren’t great, probably not even that comfortable, but it would do. “This is getting none of us anywhere. I am certain they all have good explanations for what information they have and the lack of flow of it.” At the very least, she seemed to believe it.

Luke shook his head, mostly to himself, and tried to organize his thoughts and what exactly he would say. He didn’t want to tell the 501st, only because of how close they were with his father and due to Palpatine being around his father all the time… secrecy was crucial. “Look, okay,” he started, trying to catch up with himself. It was not particularly easy. He didn’t even know if they would believe him. Others had taken it fairly well; the 212th’s faith in Ben and Cody’s reasoning was helpful, as well as Master Vos’s abilities. But most of these guys were from the 501st; Luke didn’t know if they had that type of faith or belief. “This is…the galaxy depends on total, complete and absolute secrecy. Absolute. You cannot tell anyone,” he stressed as best he could.

“Why not?” Jesse asked, genuinely curious.

“We have to be very careful on the flow of this because there are people we cannot trust and I don’t know all of them,” Luke started to explain, his voice nearly rocky as he spoke. He didn’t particularly want to because well, it was complicated and in all honesty, he had no idea what exactly all he would be revealing to these people. “I don’t know all the people I cannot trust in this time,” he tried to clarify with a bit of a wince. “Some of the 212th knows a bit of what I explained, but for the most part, only Master Vos, Commander Cody and maybe Ben…er Master Kenobi knows most of it.”

Rex tensed up a little, his eyes turning a bit sharper as he stared at Luke at the mention of his closest brother. Luke tried to ignore the shielded feelings Rex was hiding. They weren’t exactly the most positive ones and Luke’s heightened ability with the force let him see, even through some of the thickest of shields. It wasn’t something he particularly liked but sometimes it seemed too apparent for him to ignore. And in Rex’s case, he found out that one of his closest brother was keeping secrets from him. “Cody knows all of what you know?”

“I explained some things to him,” Luke confessed, not quite meeting Rex’s eyes. He barely got to know Cody at all in the future; as they were only with one another for an hour or two, but he had heard plenty from both Ben and Boil. “Please don’t get mad at him. It’s my family. I’m sorry. I asked him not to tell you.”

“Why?” Rex replied steadily, keeping his voice completely void of too many feelings that Luke could feel. “You seemed like you trusted me.”

“I do,” Luke insisted quickly and then, embarrassingly enough, his mouth ran off with him. “You aren’t the breach.”

“The breach?” Rex’s brows creased as he stared at the boy. “Who is?”

“If you act strange, Skywalker will know…” Luke drifted off, uneasily as his hands shuffled in his lap his gaze turning down. Speaking of his father was strange, especially when he was very strict on not letting anyone know what Anakin was too him. He still had to wrap his own head around all of this; he didn’t need everyone else’s opinions and thoughts on the matter yet.

“No way. NotGeneral Skywalker,” Fives insisted, nearly moving to stand up to make his point. Both Jesse and Tup pulled him down to keep him sitting but Fives was absolute. “He is loyal to the Republic; whatever happened… it is not his fault.”

Luke ignored him, fiddling with his hands. It wasn’t completely complicated he thought, at least, the line of who should and should not know the future, but it was complicated for Luke. Being in the era with his father, when he is so young and not completely evil and trying to kill him and such, it was strange. It would only be stranger when Ben came to get him, and he had to explain why he wasn’t geekingout over the fact he was getting to meet the man. “Look, a lot happened and a lot more that I don’t know. And then the Chancellor will get wind of things,” he replied, slowly, unsure how this would end up going. It was certainly an intense accusation and not one he was completely sure how others would react to. “He is not someone we can trust.”

There was a brief moment of absolute silence.

And then…

“You can’t be serious?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous!”

“He’s the leaderof the Republic.”

“Why don’t you want him to know?”

“How do you know about this?”

“What happened?”

“What did he do?”

“The Chancellor…how bad is it?” Siri asked, her voice rising above the others; something stern but calm and solid. Luke wasn’t entirely sure if it was actually louder or just something he could hear better over the others. She looked over at him, believing and serious. It was hard to wrap his head around. She just…believed him. She didn’t even know who he was. He didn’t know how she had that kind of faith in him or why she did, but he was incredibly grateful.

“The worst you can imagine,” he choked out.

Siri paused and took a seat near him with a few moments of silence to mull this over. Everyone let her have the moment, trying not to stare as she took what time she was given to think about things and come to her own conclusion. “The Sith master,” she guessed, her jaw clenching as she said it and glanced up at him. He nodded. “How do you know this?”

He hesitated and glanced at Waxer, who nodded encouragingly, and then Rex who just stared, ready and knowing. Luke turned back to Siri, eyes glazing over the others while he could vaguely feel Waxer’s presence near him. “Well…” he started, shifting, still uneasy. He sighed and then took another breath, readying himself for actually saying it again and the fallout of what he was about to reveal. “I guess the simplest way to say it is that I am from the future.”

“Now I know you’re kidding,” Fives shook his head as an only partially amused smile stretched on his face, but he turned serious and partially irritated as he continued with a scoff. “That is your big secret? Some sort of sick prank? What was this? Some terrible plan convoluted to try and get Dooku’s attention or something? I have no idea what your plan or goal was but guess what? It didn’t work.”

“He’s not lying,” Waxer insisted, leaning towards Luke and forward towards Fives at the same time, protective and relentless. He calmed himself but continued, just as strong and solid and ready. “Originally,” he glanced over at the boy. “Luke was born a little over a year from now, right when the war ends.”

“We have a year left?” Checkerboard whined.

“Who wins?”

“The Sith win,” Luke pushed out because it was the truth. Everyone else had been losers in this war because even though the jedi and troopers did everything they could to protect people, it was still a trap. Mostly for the jedi of course, but for this, in this, it turned out just as horrible for the troopers as well. “No one really wins but him. Trust me. The galaxy after the war is so much worse.”

“The Jedi….” Waxer sighed and Luke took his hand, squeezing it, gentle and assuring. Luke hadn’t been around at the time; he hadn’t been a jedi. But Waxer, even though he was technically around, he had taken it even worse than some of the others. Even the prospect of this happening, to them, to anyone, was horrifying. But it was something that it appeared he needed to get through. “The Jedi are killed, virtually all of them. And we do it. There are…some kind of chips in our brains that make us practically droids and we kill all of them.”

The silence was palpable.

No one could even completely imagine the implications of what he was saying.

“It’s gotta come out,” Rex said suddenly, shuddering out of his stupor. Fives reached out for him, but Rex jerked out of the way, and he stood up, as if that would make some kind of difference. “I work closely with Commander Tano! She’s fifteen!”

“We have to wait until we get back to the ship,” Waxer answered instead, looking up kindly and understanding. “We can’t do it now.”

“I need it out,” Rex muttered.

“Can’t you just use your jedi magic to get it out?” Checkerboard asked.

“I…” Luke shifted. “No. I can’t. I have the power but not the precision. Me and Ben, we had to do it together when we didn’t have medical equipment. I did it by accident with Boil.”

“How did you do it with him?”

“I uh…kind of slammed him into a wall,” Luke replied with a sheepish look.

“If you and General Kenobi were able to do that, can’t you and General Tachi do the same thing?”

Luke winced. “No. Not that she isn’t capable, but we don’t know each other, not like that. It’s hard to explain.”

“General Kenobi will be here quickly,” Waxer assured. “And when he does, we can get out of here and you can get the chip out.” Afterwards, Luke got himself around to talking a bit more on what was going on, although not giving quite enough as he did in the first time around with those in the 212th that Commander Cody had brought with him. The troopers popped in with questions that Luke tried to answer the best he could, but Master Tachi stayed quiet, waiting and listening quietly.

“He lived through it,” Siri says, near inaudibly, shaking her head. The troopers were talking amongst one another, although he wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about; he just stared at the master. This was kind of amazing, he thought, getting to meet so many people that he had never thought he would be able to. His father, Master Vos, Master freaking Siri Tachi. “The genocide and devastation of the jedi; our people. Of course he did. As if he hadn’t gone through enough.”

Their gazes met and he tried to shoot her a small smile.

The door opened and Iyah brought them a few trays of food. Luke recognized the meal; he had seen it once in a while when Aunt Beru helped out fleeing or freed slaves back on Tatooine when he was a child. He accepted it gratefully with a quiet thank you in another tongue and they ate for a moment in quiet and peace, although the knowledge about the chips were still hanging over their heads. Every time someone tried to say something, they were shut down within moments.

By the time they were done with the meal, Master Tachi politely excused herself and Luke as well, to his surprise and pulled him out of the room. It was a flimsy excuse that Luke thought sounded rather ridiculous, but the troopers seemed to buy. Maybe this was a jedi thing. He hoped he would get to learn. She took the first aid kit with her and sat him down at a table away from the others.

“Come on, take off the armor,” she said.

Luke blinked but did what he was told.

“Dooku gave you some nice robes,” she murmured but barely waited a second for an answer. “Take them off please. I know you have a wound underneath there. You want to tell me how you got it?”

Luke continued to do as he was told and tried to wrangle himself out of the dark robes, after he carefully set aside the armor pieces in a pile nearby. “A lightsaber. He wanted to watch me fight Krell again.”

Her eyebrows creased. “Krell? As in Pong Krell?”

“He’s a traitor,” Luke muttered.

“Why were you with him?”

“We fought on Umbara. I…we almost won,” Luke replied, as she started to clean and disinfect the area around the wound. It hurt to move, most of the time, and he hated looking at it. Vaguely, he wondered if it would scar. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He explained how Krell had set up the troops during the campaign and how Luke had just barely stopped it in time, although not early enough it seemed.

“You were alone?” she noted with a frown.

“Ask. I know you want to,” Luke just smiled, faintly.

“You know who I was,” she continued, barely sparing him a glance.

“Yes. Ben…uhm… Obi-Wan talked about you,” he nearly ducked with the embarrassment. No one knew him as Ben around here, no one but him. He would have to get used to calling him by his given name. Or, if he was really lucky, perhaps Master Kenobi. Or something of the sort. Long had Luke wanted to be a padawan – Ben’s padawan – but things were doing so fast and so far, he tried not to cling to that type of hope.

“You can call him Ben,” Siri shrugged, lightly as she smiled gently at him. “I understand who you refer to.”

The conversation wasn’t exactly light at all times, but it bounced around a lot. Neither of them had a particular direction they were going through, although, of course, it would mostly be about Obi-wan. He was really the only thing they both had in common. What Luke knew about her wasn’t a whole ton as a person, as Ben tended to tell him the best and most amazing things about the people he loved, but Luke was not against getting to know her now, while he still could. He had no idea how long he would be able to stay in the past; if this was his present now or if he would have to return to his own. “He carried around your warming crystal every day,” Luke said instead, trying to catch Siri’s eyes. He did and she looked down at her necklace, a thin rope that wrapped around a near pulsing and slightly luminescent crystal.

She looked back up at him and stopped for a moment to stare.

Luke didn’t know what it meant but he knew what to say. “He loves you.”

Ben was full of love. It was something that Luke had known for a long time. How different it must be, as Ben in this time and place had so many people to love that were still alive. The entirety of the Jedi Order, the troops he had befriended, his other friends across the galaxy, those he had loved in a slightly different way… it was no longer the kind nostalgia and memory type of love that Luke knew.

These people were alive now; at the very least, some of them. This would change so much. And he couldn’t wait to feel that type of love in Ben for this time. He was kind, of course, even when they were on the run. Luke could feel it when they met people, especially those Luke knew. Any troopers they came across, Cody and Boil and Bail Organa. And Master Vos; oh, Luke had remembered how happy Obi-Wan had felt; the love he had projected. Luke rarely questioned Ben’s love: he tried to show it in many ways that may have not always been the most apparent.

“I’ve known that for a very long time,” Siri replied, her voice quiet and kind. She hesitated and smiled to herself, as if remembering something amusing but important. “He loves so many, so much. It often brings him so much pain.”

No matter what Obi-Wan lost, he still kept being himself, in the light, was still giving out his kindness. “He told me about you,” Luke confessed, his chest warming. He never really got to talk about this, as Ben was almost always the only person he could talk to. It just wasn’t the same.

“What did he say?” She couldn’t help her curiosity, looking up at him with an amused but cautious glance, her lips curling up just enough.

He matched her expression. “I can’t imagine you being unable to guess.”

She grinned, her smile widening into something more mischievous. “Indulge me.”

“He knew you well, the longest I suppose. At least, it seemed like it, out of the people he loved in that way,” he explained, his smile softening as he thought back to the things he had learned from Ben over the years and what he could pull out of the older jedi. There was times Ben was easier to get answers from and other times Luke had to beg for something; anything. He didn’t like to guilt trip, but it was easy sometimes, there was very little else to do when they were in hyperspace, stuck in the tiny little space that was their ship for so many years. “You knew him, well, perhaps better than most, I think. He seemed to think so. He’s sad a lot of things. How talented you were with a lightsaber, strong willed and independent; determined and so focused. He said you were beautiful and had short blonde hair and liked jumpsuits. And you know, the obvious, that you were amazing.”

Siri choked down a laugh.

Luke didn’t give her enough time to answer and continued, glancing down at his hands and stripped his gloves from them. “I asked him about those he had fell in love with after I asked about my mother,” he explained quietly. “I don’t think it was easy for him to talk about that, considering his past, but I was young. I didn’t understand and I…I wanted to know.”

“Who is your mother?”

He shifted around, suddenly uneasy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Master Tachi because of course he did. Even if he didn’t trust her just from what Ben had told him and such, she had helped him, had gotten him out of Dooku’s clutches and helped him rescue the troopers. But this was a whole different level and honestly, Luke had never had to deal with this before. His parents, they were alive, and he had to deal with that, eventually. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s someone Obi-Wan knew,” she mused, unfazed by his inability to give a straight answer. “Rather well, if he had such answers for you. If he could describe her and tell you about her in a way that would make you ask.”

“Master Tachi,” Luke warned, swallowing heavily.

“Senator Padme Amidala.”

Oh wow, she was good.

“How did you know?”

“I am rather observant,” she shrugged. “Comes with the job, I suppose. One has to be in my line of work. I’ve met her a couple of times. Obi-Wan has talked about her too, as he often is around her and working with her. At least, more than some others. Between those things and when you saw collars on the clones…” she drifted off, pointedly. He swallowed nervously, glancing down.

“Your initial anger was Skywalker. Something almost personal and hot; I could feel it through the Force; it burned through my shields, even though we do not have a bond. It was easy to know, and I know it well, as I have trained around Skywalker plenty of times before. The cold fury, however, was Obi-Wan. You didn’t scream and hit something; you weren’t exactly calm, but you weren’t crazy either; just furious. It is something I have seen him do to hide his anger when he was older and it is very cold. But how you handled it? With the righteous fury and reckless abandon, with making a snap choice with little plan? To free the slaves, you could and get them out of there? I’ve seen that kind of thing before when I have been in Senate meetings or hearing about them even. I’ve seen it before. That is all Padme Amidala.”

Luke looked up to stare at her in some kind of awe because he had barely told her anything about his parents. He had barely told anyone anything about his parents. Cody knew simply from knowing Obi-Wan and remembering a holo he had shown. Master Vos knew it from Luke’s own memories. But Siri, she simply deduced. Ben wasn’t kidding when he said she was amazing. It made the boy wonder about the others Ben had known as amazing and how great they were in their respective talents. “I…you are as good as Ben says,” he confessed.

“That’s nothing,” she shrugged, and Luke had to believe it. Or, at the very least, Siri herself believed it wasn’t that impressive. Luke couldn’t quite tell if it was confidence or ego or simple honesty; he didn’t know her or anyone else for that matter, like that. “Obi-Wan and I…our padawans were around the same age,” she explained, and brought back up bacta patches to put on his wound to help it heal up quicker and cleaner. “We did missions together. Trained together. I’ve known Skywalker as a teenager. You have his sandy blonde hair and unstoppable drive.”

He really hoped that was a good thing. He had only ever really had Ben’s perspective and thoughts on his father which were a bit skewed. It wasn’t that they were wrong, but Luke knew for certain that he didn’t tell him whole truths, not nearly as much about the faults. It had taken Luke quite some time to understand exactly why. The fact of the matter was Ben had wanted Luke to love his father, to know him as his best self rather than the faults and monster that he eventually became. It had been hard to swallow for some time and Luke still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it; it was something he continuously had to work through and was. “Wow…you really figured that out quick.”

“With your whole-time travel thing,” she leaned back a bit to get a better look at his wound and brought out the bandages to keep the bacta on, as well as clean alongside the wound itself. “And Obi-Wan knowing your parents so well to tell you about them….I was just open to any possibility. That is hardly the craziest option.”

“I’m not my father.”

She glanced at him, certainly a form of understanding in her gaze. He wondered what that meant. How she could understand such a thing, from which he was feeling. It was something he had to tell himself since he had learned what his father had become. Before that, he wanted nothing more to be like his father. Ben had told Luke some of the most fantastical things about Anakin Skywalker and how much Luke would have been loved by him. How much he was loved. Ben didn’t generally make comparisons between them like that; it was rather a seldom occurrence. But after learning Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, the beast that was constantly chasing and trying to kill them; it had taken Luke a length of time to come to terms with several different things that were connected to that. Whether or not Anakin Skywalker was evil or not, Luke wasn’t him. He shouldn’t be him. Luke should be Luke.

He was still trying to figure out who that was.

“Of course not,” Master Tachi assured readily. “You are Luke.”

“No, I mean…” he sighed. She was right, of course, but that wasn’t quite the point he was trying to make. But, as the moment passed, she seemed to understand still.

“I understand,” Siri nodded. “You are not Anakin Skywalker and similarities or comparisons between the two of you doesn’t mean you do or say the same things. Blood is not everything.”

He nodded and glanced away as she got up to start wrapping around his shoulder and torso, weaving between his appendage to get the best available lock for the bandages with the best range of motion. For some reason, the conversation skipped over again. He didn’t really want to talk about his father; he knew that would certainly be coming in the future. “I hope he came back with me.”

“A coma was mentioned,” she hummed but he could feel and hear the under currents of concern shifting through her voice.

“Yeah. He was in some kind of unexplainable coma when I…. left,” he said carefully. If she noticed his hesitation, she did not seem to be inclined to mention it or point it out. “I’m pretty sure he is awake now. I just don’t know if he came back with me.”

“He won’t abandon you.”

Oh, she sounded so sure.

“Perhaps,” he choked out instead.

“I will not either,” she nudged him, his good shoulder, from the back. He caught a glimpse of a ready and determined smile. “Would you like a partner?”

He chuckled, his chest softening as the conversation turned a little gentler. He quite enjoyed and appreciated the change of pace. “I think Waxer might get offended,” he pointed out. It was a joke, because of course it was. He didn’t know how Waxer felt, not exactly. But he did seem rather inclined to stay by Luke’s side and that was also something he could appreciate. He had plenty of experience with other clones, but it had always been so short, save for Boil’s time with them in the future…past? Luke’s past. But Boil hadn’t been allowed to stay. Luke had been rather upset with Ben for quite some time after that.

She laughed, completely unbothered and unoffended by the notion. “We can make a squad. How does that sound?” she asked, tightening the bandages a little. It was uncomfortable but he knew the pressure would be better in the end.

He grinned, trying to turn his head towards her. “Save Galaxy and Destroy Sith Squad.”

If anyone could help him destroy the Sith, he couldn’t be surprised if she ended up being one of them. Of course, there were others he would like on that squad too.

“SGaDSS,” she snickered as she finished up and came back to his front to tie it off. It was some kind of silent and mutual agreement and they high fived. Both of their hands were sweaty, from the heat and warmth of the planet but his heart was soaring that it hardly mattered. She was a jedi and he got to meet her. He got to meet another of Ben’s friends, loved ones. “You talk kind of like him,” she said after they stopped laughing and sat down, settling against the wall. She had brought over some pillows and blankets from closet in the corner so they could lean against them instead of just the hard floor and wall.

“Who? Anakin?”

“No,” she chuckled, waving her hand. “Obi-Wan. He could be so sarcastic, so quippy. He could verbally keep up with anyone. The way he jokes with and about his troopers. The way he follows those he cares about into the fires of Hell,” she glanced away and shook her head, once again almost lost in thoughts and memories. “Just… part of the reason he is a good person to be around, to be friends with.”

He and Ben had talked a lot about love and compassion and kindness. The different types and the roles they could play in life. But love was still love, in any form. No one was higher or more important than another. It was a lesson that Luke had found solace in. “He always told me that loving someone was enough. Time and distance don’t exist when it comes to love.”

“Apparently he is very wise in the future,” Siri hummed and suddenly he was leaning against her. He was tired, because of course he was, but this was easier, just leaning on her and almost ready to fall asleep or something. He had been tired a lot lately. He wondered if it was because of the time travel. At least he hadn’t been in a coma, like Ben.

“He doesn’t…” Luke drifted off, trying to find the words but his mind was starting to get heavy. “Always make sense but he tries.”

“That’s Obi-Wan for ya,” Siri chuckled and scooted a little closer to him, possibly to make things more comfortable for either of them, or both.

“This will be the longest I have been around a jedi that wasn’t Ben,” Luke muttered.

“It hasn’t even been a day.”

Well, considering he had only met one jedi before and that was for a very short time, it wasn’t exactly hard to compete. “I have met one other jedi and it was barely for an hour,” Luke replied with a huff. “I was in a galaxy so dark, so few jedi. But here, in this time, here I have been around Skywalker, Ahsoka, Master Tiin, Master Vos… I…”

“Quinlan was there?” Siri asked, suddenly interrupting and a bit surprised.

“He came to help Ben, I’m pretty sure,” Luke replied, his heart catching pace and moving a little quicker than normal. He liked Master Vos; he was very interesting and was the only other real jedi he had met in his own past. And Ben seemed to really care about and love him too. But if he was a danger to Ben… Why? Is that…bad?”

“No, not at all,” she shook her head, blonde hair swaying a bit. “They just haven’t hung around each other for a while.”

“They’re friends.”

“Yes. Very much so,” she paused and studied him, glancing down at her shoulder where he was resting near her. “You should take a nap.”

“What? Why?” he snorted but even he knew it was obvious. He was tired.

“You heal when you sleep,” she replied bluntly and then paused before continuing, like she needed to have some sort of explanation and clarification. “We have a medic friend.”

“Bant,” he hummed. Another person Ben knew and loved and talked about. He wondered if she was still alive; he didn’t remember when she died. If she was still around; he would like to meet her. They could probably exchange notes on their caring regiments for Ben.

“Yes.”

“She’s right,” a new yet soft and familiar voice creeps into Luke’s ability to hear. Both of them glance up in the door way where Waxer was standing, partially void of armor with his arms crossed against his chest, frowning disappointedly. He shook his head and was very clear about expressing how he felt. “And I’m not happy you didn’t say something about being hurt.” He barely gave them a moment before he walked over and asked for permission to sit next to them. Luke practically took his arm and dragged the trooper down to their level. He was so warm, and kind and his presence just curled around his. Even though there were only half a dozen troopers, it was an overwhelming sense of good feelings and warmth that Luke wasn’t used to.

Luke didn’t talk much, his brain becoming heavy and tired as the moments passed on until he was barely conscious. At some point, another trooper came in, but Luke’s eyes had already been closed as his mind started to move towards sleep mode. There was talking and footsteps. Luke tried to reach out into the force, towards that warm something that had entered, and he heard a door shut. A few chuckles.

By that time, he is sound asleep and knows nothing.

Fives

The second part of the explosion was what woke them as it was very audible and even shook the ground what they were laid upon. It shook them awake for certain, even before one of the former slaves – the woman that made them a meal before – ran in started spouting hurried exclamations in a language that Fives didn’t actually understand.

The younger jedi, Luke, was practically draped across any trooper he could get close to, as well as the other, older jedi, practically clinging to them. He was embarrassed when he awoke, tucked near Lieutenant Waxer but no one said a word. Only silently untangled themselves from the boy and got up as the woman continued to babble.

They were on their feet within moments, although Jesse’s legs were tangled in the scratchy blankets, and he fell over himself. Tup couldn’t help but chuckle as he and Checkerboard, from the 212th, helped untangle him and get him up.

“What’s happened?” Captain Rex asked.

The woman continued to speak but the Captain just glanced around helplessly. He, like the rest of them, didn’t know the language that she was speaking and apparently, she didn’t have a translator either; hand held or implant.

General – Master – Something Tachi stared at the woman intently and nodded. “She said that something has exploded; she is fairly certain that it was the palace.”

“Did you explode the structure?” Checkerboard choked out.

Master Tachi just scoffed. “No. The devices that Luke and I planted were of the smoke variety and they have long gone off. There is not a way that ours could have brought even part of that building down,” she insisted.

“Do you think it was the Republic?” Jesse asked, catching his breath after his battle with the blankets and pillows.

The jedi frowned but thought about this for a moment. “I doubt it. It isn’t generally the jedi way to just explode entire government buildings, even if they are the headquarters to a slaver queen,” she paused and said a few things to the woman. After an exchange, the woman left, although Fives wasn’t entirely sure what was said. “Get ready and get dressed. We have to figure out what is going on and how to get out of here. Or, at the very least, contact someone.”

Everyone nodded, readily. She had nothing to get ready about herself and said a few things to Luke, quiet and under her breath. He started to grab his robes and armor pieces and started to put them together as she strode out of the room.

Lieutenant Waxer glanced at the boy, curious with a silent question. “She’s going to try to see if she can get contact,” Luke replied as he worked with surprising efficiency. He did stumble over some pieces of the armor, not quite used to such things, but the 212th Checkerboard, quickly moved to help him.

After a few minutes, they were all ready to move and they excited the room towards the door in the front of the building. Master – General – ugh something (Fives had no idea what to call her) Tachi was messing with some radio, working intently. He didn’t dare to ask if she was having any progress with it.

Luke stopped at the door, keeping it closed, and reached out, with his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. After a long moment, something sparked, and the boy started to bounce on his feet. “He’s here!” he cheered, chattering excitedly as he continued to repeat the phrase.

“What are you talking about?”

The boy’s eyes were shining so bright, Fives almost felt like he was blinding but he bounced around the room, nearly flying outside of the door before holding himself back and spinning around towards them again. “He is here! I can feel him! Ben! Ben is here!”

“General…Kenobi…” Lieutenant Waxer tried slowly.

Luke nodded, vigorously. “Master Tachi! Siri! Ben…Obi-Wan is here!” he called out. The jedi glanced at him with a blink.

“I’ve got some lines,” General Tachi said, instead although she smiled faintly at him. “There are reports of slavers getting injured and stealing slaves. Someone with a light saber.”

Luke paused and frowned. “But I have his saber.”

“I’m sure he borrowed someone else’s,” General Tachi assured as she stepped closer to him. “You did say Quinlan was with him and well, Quinlan works just fine with a blaster too. So, I’m sure you are right, and it is Kenobi.”

He nodded. “We have to go.”

“Luke…”

“No! We have to get back to him!” Luke insisted as he started to move again. “We have to get to him as soon as possible. There is so much to do, and danger and I have to help him!”

“Iyah said it is chaos out there, we need to be careful,” General Tachi tried to reason carefully.

“I can’t wait,” Luke shook his head and before any of them knew it, he was out the door.

General Tachi cursed in a language Fives didn’t know but both the 212th boys had raced after Luke without a moment’s notice. The general groaned. “I have to get my equipment and pack it up. Can you…”

“We’ve got it sir,” Captain Rex nodded, curtly and glanced at the others left. “Let’s move boys. Cover the padawan commander’s back. Jesse, stay here with the general…”

“Not a general!” the jedi called back.

“Give her any help and protection that she needs,” the captain finished. Fives clasped his hand with his brother before Jesse tailed after General Tachi and the other ran off after the runaway jedi padawan youngling person.

It was chaos in the streets. So many were fighting. There were pieces of debris that had fallen even as far as they had gotten and some, slower, still falling yet. Ash and dust billowed everywhere, obscuring the skies. Luke and the 212thboys were already a bit far ahead, but they were rather easily noticeable to the eye in the off white and battered armor of the troops.

“He’s just as bad as Skywalker,” the captain muttered under his breath and ran full speed through the crowds in attempt to catch up.

Fives just grinned at Tup and pulled on his helmet before following.

Oh but those were the best kind.

*

Fives didn’t know when it happened but eventually droids started showing up. Getting through towards the palace is more difficult than expected and eventually, they even get a chance to catch their breath when they run into alley ways and abandoned houses and structures. Everyone seems to be fighting everyone, from droids fighting slavers to slavers fighting slaves to slaves fighting droids and slavers. It is a whole mess, and it is easy to get off track.

Which they do.

They end up out of the way of the palace which made Luke very frustrated. They could all feel it. Perhaps it was a jedi thing, Fives thought. He trusted Skywalker with a lot; he was a good man. There were times, however, Fives felt as though he could feel his emotions in any given situation. Well, he shouldn’t say that. In any high stakes or near-death situations. Or anything that involved Senator Amidala.

Luke’s frustrations are practically palpable, and it nearly makes Fives feel that way too. He is fairly certain it must be a jedi thing because no way is he normally feeling like this, even with the situation that they are embroiled in. He’s panicked and scared and desperate.

It is a lot more chaotic than even Umbara and often times, the group keeps losing one another for moments or even near hour at a time. There is no battlefield, no ground to take. There are no real sides. It is just unbridled and intense chaos.

Rumors begin to swirl around about lightsabers and the jedi. Some slaves from the palace running with panic, screaming about several men in light sabers fighting one another and the death of the queen. Fives didn’t think Luke could get anymore worried and desperate.

He was very wrong.

Fives wouldn’t blame Luke for what was to come next.

Brothers died in battle no matter where they were. It was a fact of their lives, and he knew that the jedi did their best. They just couldn’t save everyone and even then, sometimes they could – and did – lose their own lives in the process. This was a battlefield of a different breed, Fives thought. He almost thought they would survive this.

He should have known better.

Fives didn’t really know Check but that didn’t mean his death didn’t hurt.

And he knew it had hit Luke pretty hard too.

The moment he saw the trooper go down; they both knew it was over. There was no way the soldier could have survived that shot. But even though Luke had fought in the battle on Umbara with Lieutenant Waxer’s platoon, a group of soldiers that included Check, his reaction was not something any soldier should have advised.

He stopped and stared, frozen in place. Shocked and unmoving, as if unable to comprehend anything going on around him in the world. Captain Rex shouted something, possibly for Luke to get a hold of himself, possibly for one of them to get him out of the line of fire. Fives, of course, couldn’t do anything about the former as of yet, but he could do the latter. Running across the field from his cover, Fives literally tackled Luke down to the ground and behind a stack of crates near a door. Without a word or anything, he practically dragged the boy into the house.

They were lucky, no one was home.

Leaning Luke upright against the wall in a sitting position, Fives closed the door to give them a few minutes and gave the rest of them a short brief on the comms. As of currently, Luke was in no shape to keep moving. He asked for the jedi, perhaps she could help him, but General Tachi was a bit off with Lieutenant Waxer and Jesse. It would be quite a few moments before she could get to them. She simply ordered for them to find cover and stay put. They needed the break, possibly a nap, and for Luke to come back to them before anyone could make another run for the palace. It always seemed so far off; it would still take quite some time.

“Luke,” Fives tried with a frown, pressing a hand against the boy’s shoulder on his pauldron. Tears were starting to come from the boy’s blue eyes, steadily and finally, the first emotion finally came up. It wasn’t much but it was something. “Look, I know this is tough. Losing someone you care about, no matter how long you have known them, it’s…it’s heart breaking. And in war, where people die it’s even worse because you don’t…you don’t have a moment to stop and grieve. You don’t have a moment for burial or saying goodbye. It’s something you try to prepare for but… you can’t.”

He was in front of him before sitting down himself next to the jedi-in-training, or whatever he was, and sighed, taking off his helmet and setting it aside.

“I’m not trying to scold you or anything, but this is war, and we are going to lose people,” Fives tried, unsteadily. “And we don’t… it often happens so fast. There is no time for goodbyes and even less time for grief, in the moment. I lost…I lost my brother really fast. He did something…. something that I would have been the one to do and it just…one moment he was right by me and the next he was gone. Explosion and we had to move, there wasn’t a second to spare.”

Luke’s face started to scrunch up and Fives counted that as a win, although his feelings were mostly tied up in the memories. The boy blinked and stared at him, like he wasn’t completely sure. “Echo?”

Fives stared right back at him, his head whipping around, eyes wide. Because…he hadn’t said his name. “How did you…”

An explosion went off and the glass of the window above them shattered, spraying the contents and other debris into the house and over them. Luke threw himself over Fives in an effort to protect him from the flying debris which Fives, absentmindedly thought was a little amusing and ironic.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Fives muttered without his permission. The door busted through and both of them startled, soon to be relieved as it was only Tup and Captain Rex that came through.

“You guys good?”

“Yessir,” Fives grumbled as he got out from underneath Luke. The boy responded but Fives’ ears were ringing and he couldn’t quite make out what he had said.

“General Tachi wants us to wait for her, get some rest and so we can regroup,” Tup relayed.

“I heard,” Fives sighed and glanced around. “The place looks pretty abandoned, at least for now.”

“Most people who aren’t fighting are hiding in their homes,” the captain responded, also taking a look around. He gestured to Tup, who went to make sure and secure the perimeter. “So, my guess is that they are still out there fighting or dead. General Tachi shouldn’t be too long, but she also said we don’t have to wait up for her. Take a nap she said.”

Fives scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I guess I’ll find some blankets and pillows and a good large room to hole up in.”

It wasn’t that hard. The place wasn’t very big and eventually he found a living room space where the hard furniture could be moved to the walls, reinforce them and barricade any windows and doors. Unless someone came in with a full tactical team, it should hold out for at least a few hours. By the time General Tachi got to the house, flanked by Lieutenant Waxer and Jesse, Luke was half asleep but tried his best went they came in.

The Lieutenant was holding Check’s helmet and Luke burst into tears again.

They left the two of them alone for a moment. Well, it was a bit longer than a moment. Fives explained a bit on what happened with Check and Luke’s reaction. Luke may have been used to running and fighting and even conflict, but he wasn’t not used to the realities of war. Not like this.

They came back in after quite some time. Luke was already lightly snoring and fast asleep against Waxer’s shoulder, who was half asleep himself. And so, they made a perimeter around one another for moments of rest over the next several hours.

It is barely an hour in and already Luke is tangled up and cuddling with several troopers, as if reaching out and trying to be in contact with as many of them as he could.

“If no one else is gonna say it,” Jesse started, keeping his voice rather quiet as to not awake the young’un. “I ain’t gonna lie, is it strange that he is all…touchy and cuddly? I didn’t think jedi were…really like that.”

Everyone looked over at General Tachi, who frowned and took a breath, her lips twitching. “He is…touch started but not quite either. It is difficult to explain because jedi are very different. But one of the reasons the jedi start so young, adopted young and raised together is so they can form bonds with others like them. It is often necessary for healthy development.”

“But Luke…he wasn’t raised like that,” Waxer realized, glancing down at the child before looking back up at General Tachi. He looked quite worried and concerned. After only a few days of knowing this child, he was already so attached. Fives wondered if that was normal for him. “So he doesn’t have those bonds.”

“Luke’s presence is latching onto other jedi and connected beings,” General Tachi continued. “He has several fledgling bonds which help his… starvation but considering Obi-Wan and him were constantly on the run, Luke probably didn’t get much time with them and so they either faded or remained very thin; barely there. He’s already formed some type of connections with you.”

“All of us?”

“Luke’s presence in the force is starving for connections,” she added, and Fives could tell there was a hint of concern in her voice, although she mostly kept emotions out of it. “It won’t interfere with you or anything and if left unattended, it shouldn’t grow.”

“It helps him?” Waxer asked.

General Tachi nodded, a bit gravely. This was a rather serious topic, Fives realized. “It is partially why he is even more cuddly than normal, even for a jedi.”

Waxer held Luke close, as if that would help. The boy just huffed into his shoulder. “And…if the bond…if it does grow stronger? Is that okay?” he added, looking back up at General Tachi, eyebrows scrunched together as his concern became more and more evident on his physical features.

General Tachi just nodded.

“Even from a clone?”

“Especially from a clone.”

“What does that mean?”

“Obi-Wan could explain it better,” she confessed with a small sigh. Luke’s arm sleepily touched hers and she moved a little closer to him. “I don’t have a clone attachment or much experience with you.”

“Can you try?”

“I’m not sure if anyone, you or anyone really understands how well the clones and the jedi connect with one another, fit together, how easy it is to share bonds with,” she started, making sure to look between all of them. “Your warmth and light in the Force…as Obi-Wan tells it, although different individuals, is clicks very well with our own. This is rather quite unusual for non-force sensitives. Obi-Wan told me once it’s like we were made for you, that we were meant to be together in some way.”

“They used to say on Kamino,” Rex said quietly. He hadn’t been speaking a whole lot as of late, listening quiet and with purpose and the mention of Kamino brought both nostalgia and bitterness to all of the troopers. Their brothers were still there but it was not generally a good place to be. “We were made for the jedi.”

General Tachi thought about this and hummed. Perhaps it was agreement or disagreement or neither, Fives wasn’t sure. She was hard to read and hard to understand, much more so than their own general. “Perhaps. But I don’t think it is one sided,” she swiped Luke’s bangs to the side, gently. He exhaled again. “Many of the jedi will continue to choose you. Obi-Wan continues to choose you. It is a new galaxy and things are changing. If you will have us, we will gladly stay with you.”

“I don’t know anyone except the jedi who have cared anything for us,” Lieutenant Waxer confessed. “And I can’t speak for everyone of course, but I think we would rather be with you than any other people in the galaxy, if we had to choose.”

“You should get some sleep,” General Tachi said instead, glancing over towards the window that Fives and Tup had already blocked.

“We should set up watches for the next few hours,” Rex replied, leaving the previous conversation with ease and picking up the new one just as easily.

“Do not worry. I have it covered.”

“You can’t do it by yourself.”

“Oh yes I can. Just….trust me on this one,” she winked.

Luke

When Luke wakes up, he is drowning in a clone cuddle pile and practically has to claw his way out, his face completely red and flush with embarrassment. He is sputtering by the end of it but tries with all of his skill and work not to wake them up while trying to get himself out of the pile.

Master Tachi glanced at him from the side of the pile, out of the sleeping troopers and smirked at him, amused. “Sleep well?” she snickered.

Luke just blushed and glanced away, moving towards her as quietly and gently as he could.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, Luke. You are an empath and crave connections naturally,” she pointed out. It wasn’t something that Luke didn’t know, in particular, but it was different here and now. Things were still dark but still so much lighter than the time he was from. There were others to connect to so close and actually around. It was so much. “It just seems so extreme now because you have never had so much before and now, there is much to have.”

“It…it’s been just Ben and me for a long time,” Luke confessed as he sat down next to her, hugging his knees. He glanced over at his armor piled over in the corner and reached for the closest pieces. “Before that it was just Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru but I don’t think they quite…understood.”

“Many do not,” she hummed.

“I love Ben,” he added, quickly. It was the truth; Ben was the only person he had with him, everyone else was gone forever or deceased. “He…he is pretty much all I have. It is hard without him around. I…I just have never been around so much….”

“Light, warmth?” she suggested.

“Hyperspace is cold, and we are not planet side a lot,” he explained. He tried to talk about a bit on their situation, in the future, past, whatever. It was easy to talk to her. Maybe it was because she was a jedi. Perhaps it was because Ben knew her and told him about her. Maybe she just was easy to talk to for him. “Ben is very warm, but this is different.”

“Everyone feels different, especially jedi,” Master Tachi assured. “You have been starved of that. It is why we raise out children in creches, together.”

“Ben told me about creches,” Luke hugged his knees tighter as he clipped the shin guards to his lower legs. He didn’t look at her, rather thinking about so much all at once. “I think I would have liked it.”

She nodded and the outer wall shook a little. They both glanced towards the little window on that side of the room. The conversation was over, Luke thought to himself. It wasn’t long; he wished he could talk more with her, but it was clear. “The fighting is getting close again,” she pointed out with a frown. “We should move.”

Luke nodded. “Any ideas on where to go?”

“I have been working on establishing communications with Obi-Wan’s ship,” Master Tachi explained as she grabbed some of her own gear and began putting it on. Her radio was in the corner, and she glanced at it as some kind of gesture to guide his gaze towards the appliance. “They are being pretty tight lipped, and I don’t have his codes.”

“Probably don’t want Dooku to get any information,” Luke added. Whether or not this was the truth, it made sense anyways. He wondered where the Count was now and if he was making problems for Ben and the troopers. “Do you think they have troops on the ground?”

Master Tachi paused and frowned again. “Not sure. This place isn’t Republic friendly or even wants to be,” she replied as she stood up, finishing putting on her own gear, so different from what Luke and the other troopers were wearing. “The Jedi have taken out the Zygerrian slave empire before but…everything was different then.”

He didn’t know exactly what that meant, in particular but he followed her, putting on his smaller pieces and Master Tachi helping him clip on the gorget. “If they take out the enemy ship, I think they can drive the Separatists away,” Luke said. “I only saw one up there, I don’t think they were planning for an invasion.”

“I think you are right.”

“I have no doubt the palace is in chaos, but I don’t think there is any order for power players. No one seems organized. We might be able to get there. That is probably where Ben would look since he was following Dooku.”

“That level of chaos could mean lack of leadership,” Siri murmured as she messed around a bit with her portable radio. “The queen may be incapacitated or dead, meaning there would be a power vacuum.”

“That would also mean less guards, we could probably slip through. No one is giving orders,” he added.

“Or too many are for any type or organization.”

“Even if Ben is done looking through the palace, he would still be around that area,” Luke said.

“He is not going to just give up,” Master Tachi nodded. “Especially not with Quinlan with him.”

“So, we head towards the palace then.”

“The closer we are, the easier it will be to get communications with the Republic – or better yet – Obi-Wan’s fleet,” Master Tachi added with a grin growing on her face.

“The closer we are, the more likely I will be able to feel Ben better,” Luke added with a matching grin as he brightened up, significantly. He just needed to find Ben. Things would be okay if he could just get to him. “Don’t try to lie to me and say you don’t have a pretty strong bond with him too.”

“He is one of my closest friends,” she admitted.

“Look at you two,” a new voice piped in with a chuckle. Both Luke and Master Tachi glanced around. The troopers were all at least awake with vaguely amused expressions. A few were even moving towards their armor piles to get ready for moving out at a moment’s notice. “Makin plans without us,” Jesse added.

“Thought you could use the extra beauty sleep,” Luke grinned, cheekily.

“You little brat,” Jesse teased.

They talk a little while everyone gets ready and dressed. Master Tachi gave them a short rundown of what they were going to be doing; moving back towards the Palace. There was some apprehension, going back to that horrid place. Luke completely understood, even just thinking about made him rather upset, skin vibrating for the need for justice. If it was his choice, no one would have to go anywhere near it again. But he had to find Ben. They had to find Ben and they needed to get off of this planet.

The little group had left soon after, quiet and out of the back door, away from the chaos outside. The fighting and struggling had not ceased exactly, as there were still slavers, slaves and droids still fighting amongst one another. Luke kept Check’s helmet clipped to his belt and no one said a word about it.

They couldn’t exactly avoid the fighting and conflict and eventually, they had to move towards the more main roads to make their way towards the palace. They avoided them, of course, whenever they could. By the time they had to get to the main road, which was a straight shot to the palace, they were about knee deep in conflict.

It kind of amazed him how easy they worked together. Master Tachi had never really worked with these troopers before barely – if any – either. Luke himself had only fought alongside Waxer and only for a few moments, the other troopers as well. But the five boys they had with him and Master Tachi, they had quickly adapted to the way they moved and the way they worked. Moving with the troopers was easy, even though there weren’t many of them. They didn’t a fairly good job keeping up with him and Master Tachi and although neither of them were actually used to working with troopers, they seemed to blend well together when it came to helping each other out and having each other’s back.

Master Tachi had a blaster on her, and he knew she wouldn’t bring out her lightsaber unless it was absolutely necessary. Ben had been the same way during their travels. It often times brought unwanted attention.

Luke, on the other hand, didn’t have another weapon and he had a much larger and passionate need to fight and protect. He made arcs with Ben’s light saber like he was born for it. Perhaps, in some ways, he was.

The loss of Check was a heavy weight, but they kept moving.

The young boy from the future wouldn’t let anyone die on his account, not with this. There were six others with him – he could keep them alive. He had to keep them alive. He did not leave them and kept them within his sights the best he possibly could. It was hard to keep them together as they seemed to have the same idea about one another. Luke caught a blaster shot with the force that came too close to Jesse’s face for comfort. Tup shot a slaver that was coming up on Luke’s six.

Getting so close to the palace, they stayed tight knit until the courtyard was in place. They paused in an out-of-the-way alley to come up with a plan, right outside of the palace perimeter. “It is absolute and complete chaos out there but I can feel Ben,” Luke said hurriedly, his voice rising in excitement and plenty of eagerness. “I can sneak in and since I can sense him, I’ll be able to find him quicker. I’ll bring him back.”

“I don’t think that’s a good…”

“Look, I got this, okay?” Luke insisted and didn’t wait for an answer. He ran out of the hiding place and leapt on top of the building nearby, racing across the rooftops up and away from the fighting crowds down below. Eventually he had to get back to the ground as he got inside the palace courtyard where the battle started to thin out a little.

He reached out in the Force and tried to concentrate. He could feel Ben. He knew he could feel him.

And then…

“Luke!”

The yell was raw, screeching into the stormy chaos of the battle, as if his voice alone was desperate enough to demand the person of his desire to be returned.

“Luke!” it tried again, near at the top of his lungs.

“Ben?”

Luke couldn’t help but perk at the sound of his name. Oh, how he hoped that it was real, that it was his voice and not his wishful thinking or the screams of another being. The being that he so desperately wanted it to be.

“Luke?” the voice called out tentatively.

It was real! It was Ben’s voice!

The youngster jumped back into the fray of disorder and conflict without a second thought. “Ben!” Luke shouted back as he fought harder against the chaos, clawing his way through anyone and everyone. His saber was off now, clipped to his belt. Because now, he didn’t need it. He fought through the crowd with his hands and the undeniable power of the force, forcing his way through them with enough strength to make others even jump out of the way.

Then he saw him. Because even though it had been fifteen years and Ben’s appearance was so different; not that weathered and oh so greying older man that Luke knew; he could recognize him. It didn’t matter that his hair was a brownish ginger instead of the grey and white. It didn’t matter that his skin was younger and smoother instead of washed out and wrinkled. It didn’t matter that he was in armor pieces and under robes rather than the larger cloaks and well-used clothes. It didn’t even matter that his eyes were bluer now, had more color instead of the tired and older gaze Luke knew.

None of that mattered. Luke would know him anywhere, no matter how much of his physical appearance may have changed. He would never forget. He never could.

Tears were pricking at his eyes then, but they weren’t quite clouding his vision. He choked out the name before charging towards his guardian. Ben may not have known what Luke was going to do but he quickly figured it out. Luke ran and leapt at him with no small amount of abandon, with all the excitement and relief coursing through him and all of the desperation and fear washing away, out from his bones.

He was pretty sure that he was crying, and it did not matter. In that moment, nothing mattered but him. Because Luke was no longer alone. Whether or not everything was real, whatever Ben knew or did not know, it hardly mattered. Luke was no longer alone and all he wanted was to be wrapped up in Ben’s robe in the way he did when he was younger. He wanted to tell Ben of all the things that he had been through and all the things they could do now. Now that they had this chance. This chance to change everything and save so many.

“I know you can catch me, old man! You don’t have any grey hairs!”

And he does; Ben catches him and wraps his arms around Luke so tight, he doesn’t think the older man will ever let go. He doesn’t really want him to. Because in this moment, he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Ben is here. It doesn’t matter if he remembered Luke or not. It doesn’t matter what Ben knew or what he didn’t. He held Luke like he always held Luke, with strength and love and compassion. Like Luke had nothing in the world to worry about ever.

“You remember me.”

He didn’t know if he was right or not. Rather, it was a guess, but Ben just chuckled and curled his arms around Luke, secure and tight. “I could never forget,” he whispered, and Luke held on even snugger, wrapping his limbs around his guardian and locking his face in the crook of his neck, brown ginger hair tickling his face. “Foolish child, running off into war,” Ben mumbled with a fond huff.

“I had to try and save Waxer,” Luke said, exhaling the best he could. He felt out of breath and like he may never get it back. “I’m not sorry.” He wasn’t, he couldn’t quite be. He just wanted to help them in any way he could. He couldn’t save Checkerboard and that was going to haunt him, but he tried to make sure he remembered about all the other ones that he had helped. He had kept Waxer alive. He helped stop Krell’s massacre. He had tried and tried and tried.

“I’m not upset,” Ben assured quietly. Distantly, Luke could hear a small explosion go off. He was glad that he had found his guardian in a spot where there wasn’t blatant battle going on. “You just scared me near to death. I’m an old man, Beacon, my heart can’t take such things.”

“You’re over 15 years in the past you dummy,” Luke choked on near tears, but his chest was bubbling with laughter, something of relief and amusement. “You aren’t even old,” he paused and snuggled just a bit closer, so thankful and unable to let him go at the moment. He would, soon, of course. There was a lot of work to do but he would keep the minute. “I’m so glad you are okay.”

“I will never abandon you.”

Something in his chest loosened which helped him loosen his grip, even if only a little bit. That reminded him, Luke thought as he gave out an actual audible chuckle. “I have the very best present for you,” he murmured with a smile, amusement swelling.

“Oh? How fortuitous,” Ben rumbled, just as entertained as him. Luke didn’t know if anyone was watching or around, but it didn’t matter. Not to him. All there needed to be was Ben and him. Even if only for a minute. “As it so happens, I have a gift for you as well.”

“You got me a present?!” Luke cheered, surprised and excited as he perked up and leaned back to look at him. Luke could see the smirk that was forming underneath Ben’s mustache and beard, a twinkle so apparent in his eye. “What is it?” he asked.

“You will have to wait until we get back to the ship,” Ben chuckled as he let Luke down back to the ground.

“I bet my gift is better!” Luke boasted, his smile sly and knowing as he leaned back on his heels with the slyest grin he could muster. He didn’t think there was anything that could be better than bringing Ben back a loved one and he knew it.

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in that way Luke had seen so many times before. “I don’t know…” he drifted off with the shake of his head. He sounded very sure of himself. “My gift is pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.”

Luke’s eyes sparkled and he took Ben’s hand, firm and secure. He was just getting more and more excited. He couldn’t wait to see Ben’s face when he showed him the person that Luke had come across because oh! He had brought back someone Ben cared about; someone he hadn’t seen in over a decade and half. “Come on! I left her with the troopers.”

“Her?” Ben echoed, questioningly, but Luke wrapped his hand tighter and practically dragged him across the courtyard, through some of the sides of the conflict before he brought him back to the little structure that his team was hiding in. He got down the alley and called out to the troopers. Waxer was the first to turn, the others following close behind as they realized who was coming up to them and putting their weapons down.

Waxer tore of his helmet and all Luke could see and feel was near absolute relief. “General!”

“Master!” Luke called out as Ben finally stopped, unable to move forward.

Because he saw.

Ben was staring, Luke noticed. His glanced between the two of them, uncertain about what would happen next, but he couldn’t help but feel excitement nearly overcome him. The female master grinned at the sight of them and walked, firm and with purpose, her face scraped up and dirty from fighting and finding rest in the little, out of the way places they could. As she came up to him, Ben reached up, hesitant and rubbed some of the light layer of dirt from her cheek.

“May I?” he murmured under his breath.

Luke’s own caught.

“Of course.” Even though she was expecting it, Luke could tell she was surprised by Ben’s hug and how tightly he wound around her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Kenobi?” she hummed as she relaxed a little into the embrace.

“You have no idea.”

“I do. At least a little. Luke told me.”

“Tachi!” a new voice cheered, and Luke glanced around. It was Master Vos, and he was jogging towards them with a couple others, a mix of troopers and jedi. Well, one jedi. He hadn’t even realized that there had been troopers and the jedi master around when he found Ben, much less of them following the two of them. “I knew it had to be you,” he snickered, turning to lean against the wall, as if he needed a brace to prevent himself from falling over with his laughter.

“Vos,” Master Tachi replied in a mock flat tone but even Luke could feel and see that she wasn’t nearly as unimpressed as she made herself out to sound. “At the very least, you kept Obi-Wan alive.”

“Hey! You weren’t there when I was trying to convince him this was time travel and not a Sith trick or torture,” Master Vos shot back, grinning wide. Neither of them was actually upset or mad or anything negative really at one another, but it was rather amusing to watch them all interact. It was funny; Luke had a bit of a hard time seeing them as such close friends with Ben.

“Well, you seemed to do that at the least,” Master Tachi huffed with a smile as the two of them leaned back and she crossed her arms over her chest for some kind of effect.

“Is everyone here?”

“We lost Checkerboard in the fight,” Waxer stepped up for a short report as Luke glanced away, his chest heating up in grief and shame. Ben put a hand on his shoulder, warm and soothing. “The other troops that were taken are accounted for.”

“Commander Cody went back up to the ship to help Sergeant Barlex fight off the Separatist ship and it appears they are doing well,” Master Vos explained, pointing upwards into the sky where they could just make out two ships, mildly obscured by the clouds and atmosphere. There may have been others, but they couldn’t be seen from the ground. Luke didn’t know.

“The Zygerrians are winning the fight with the droids too,” Rex mumbled as he looked between the jedi masters. “But they are an absolute mess. There is no organization; just fighting for fighting’s sake.”

“We have a lot of work to do,” Luke added in, firm and determined. He wasn’t wrong. Beyond this, with their chance, there was so much to do if they were going to save the troopers, the jedi and the galaxy. “We should convene with the Jedi Council, create a plan and get to work on saving the galaxy from the Empire and the Sith.”

Ben chuckled, lightly as he shot Luke a glance, a single eyebrow raised a bit curiously but Luke could feel his shields tightening a little more. “Oh, should we?”

“We do need the help,” Luke pointed out, red with embarrassment as he looked away as he realized what he said and how he said it. “R-Right.”

The jedi master just kept snickering. “Yes,” he glanced back at the others and got a look at the other jedi behind him. Luke hadn’t even noticed him come up and his breath caught in his chest. Ben perked and looked back at Luke, looking so genuinely kind and nice. Luke’s heart fell a bit. “Luke, I’ve heard you met your…”

“Anakin Skywalker,” Luke interrupted, rather loudly, in a rare show of disrespect. He tried not to let much of anything slip past as he tightened his shields as best, he could, staring at his father with his jaw set. He had to figure out how to play this. Honestly, he had to figure out how to deal with this, especially now, in the time and situation that they both were in. Ben didn’t know that Luke knew. Knew who Anakin Skywalker, his father, became. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

Ben turned confused and it was so wounded and genuine that it near physically hurt Luke to see him respond like that. “Luke…you…know who he is,” Ben said, his response slow and measured, deliberate. Cautious.

Luke hated it. “I do,” he nodded, staring just barely at Anakin.

“I am rather, confused, Luke, why…”

“Could we talk about this, later? Perhaps in private?” Luke fidgeted, glancing down at his gloved hands, his voice quieting into something that others, unless standing right by them, wouldn’t be able to hear. Luke never thought he would have this change, to have to be in this type of scenario. Luke never thought that he would meet his father as Anakin Skywalker, not after knowing what Vader had done and how many times, he had chased them, nearly killing the both of them. He had to figure out how to deal with and what to do with the change and knowledge that he had.

Ben’s brows were drawn but he nodded, solemn. “Of course. Later,” he responded, still careful and curious and worried. “But we will talk about it. This is most unlike you.”

Luke sighed, inwardly in relief. This was not the time or the place or in the right company. He couldn’t talk about this with his father actually in the vicinity. He didn’t know how he would react and there was so much more to do. “I know,” he flipped the hilt of Ben’s saber towards its owner. “This is yours. I’m sorry I borrowed it without asking.”

“Keep it for now,” Ben replied, pushing the hilt back towards him. “I’m glad you did. My crystal is willing to work with you, as always. Hopefully, in this time, you will be able to create your own.”

Luke perked subtly.

They all caught it.

“I think it is about time that we got off of this…. planet,” Ben said, carefully, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice.

“Agreed,” came a chorus of voices in near unison.

“Commander Cody can get a ship down here within a few minutes,” Master Vos announced, already messing with his commlink. “But we have to get to a nearby landing platform.”

“Shouldn’t be toohard,” Luke replied. “We’ve got four jedi, a handful of highly competent troopers and a guy who is not half bad with a lightsaber.”

“That…is how you are describing yourself?” Ben said, an eyebrow raising curiously. Luke shrugged as the troopers made a quick perimeter around them, ready to move out whenever given the order. “You know, with where and when we are, the Jedi Order is still around,” he pointed out.

“I want to help you keep it that way.”

“I know,” Ben nodded, solemnly. “I am fairly certain I can convince the Council to let you in the Order, if, of course, we happen to stay here. You’d have some catching up to do but you have been trained quite a bit and I think you have enough training to be picked up as a padawan.”

Luke felt his entire body freeze. “Picked up?” he choked out.

Ben kept his gaze completely void of any telltale emotions or thoughts; his shields as tight as they could be. “Of course. You are very talented, Luke. Kind, compassionate, determined and so eager to learn. If this is still what you want.”

He just stared back at him because…because he inferred that he wouldn’t be Ben’s padawan. That just…he wanted to be Ben’s padawan. Luke remembered the vision and trial he went through in the Lothal Temple. This was…it was always supposed to be them.

He would just have to prove himself. “I still want it,” he stated, firmly.

Ben nodded.

“We should get going,” Master Tachi popped in, speaking slowly, glancing between them with a varying range of emotions screaming across her face. They agreed and without another turn of phrase, they ran off.

Getting to the landing pad was easy. There was Luke, four incredibly talented jedi and a handful of insanely amazing troopers that could practically carve a path without hardly breaking a sweat. And it was right in time. The gunship landed just at the moment they came into view. They jumped in and off they went up towards the flagship which was beating down at the lone Separatist ship it was battling.

Commander Cody was waiting for them, along with a few others, most of which Luke recognized. There was Kix and Helix and…

“Boil!” Luke grinned with all the happiness and eagerness and relief he could project into the name. The trooper always looked surprised when Luke said his name like that and sure, this Boil didn’t have the same experiences with and without Luke that the older one did but he was still Boil. It didn’t matter.

He smiled though, warmer than most would expect with his shoulders sagging just a bit. “Hey kid. Sportin’ the armor pretty good.”

“I’m sorry I took it, but I had to sneak onto a gunship,” Luke shrugged before practically bowling the trooper over, Waxer hot on his heels. He was laughing and clasped Boil’s shoulder in greeting as the latter tried to get a handle on the squid-like hug that Luke gave. “I had to keep Waxer alive.”

When he got back to the ground and stood back, Boil’s brows were furrowed, and he frowned in realization. He glanced at Waxer, and they exchanged looks. Luke wasn’t entirely sure what they meant.

“All of you are going to need a check up and scan,” Helix butted in, Kix right at his side. They looked almost like twins. Well, really only for the fact that they had the same displeased expression on their faces. Luke tried to hush down his laugh.

“I will hand them all over to your capable care,” Ben assured as he walked closer to the group. Master Vos was whispering to Master Tachi which ended in them both snickering, almost uncontrollably. “But I do have a gift for Luke, if you don’t mind waiting a moment to take him.”

Helix shrugged. “Fine.”

Ben glanced around at the other troopers. “Did Gearshift come with you?” he asked as he got closer to Luke and wrapped a thin cloth around his eyes, making sure he could see a thing. Luke just scoffed good naturedly.

“Gearshift!” someone called out.

There were footsteps from a human and…something else. A clacking noise. A lot of them actually. It stopped and there were a few other quiet noises. “Can I loooooook??” Luke’s voice came out in a near whine. A few chuckles erupted from those around him.

Ben was standing next to him as someone untied and took off the blindfold. And in front of Luke, in Ben’s hands, was the cutest little BD explorer type droid Luke thinks he had ever seen. Washed in grey and gold, it’s little head looked up at him and squeaked in a binary Luke wasn’t entirely sure he understood but the meaning was clear. Plenty of curiosity.

His heart practically stopped. Could it be? No way.

No way.

“Is this…” he drifted off, unable to form words. He glanced at Ben, eyes wide and near pleading. “Are you serious?”

“I happened to have found her on the ship that we hijacked on our way here,” Ben explained with one of the fondest smiles Luke had ever seen up on him. “I helped fix her up, Anakin helped fix her up and she needs a bit more tweaking and probably a program update, but I thought you might like her. We talked a bit and she claimed she will give you a chance. She’s had a bit of a difficult time and would like a memory wipe, but I think you two will get along.”

“You got me a droid?!”

“I’m not sure if I would say got. I didn’t exactly pay for her or anything. Rather…liberated, in a way,” Ben pointed out.

Luke reached out his hands to let the little droid hop into his palms. He nearly felt like crying. “She’s so cute,” he whispered as she beeped at him, quick and excited. “I…can’t understand what she is saying though. Not fully.”

“It’s coded binary. Don’t worry, that can be changed in the programming.”

“Can we keep both?”

“Yes? But why?”

“I’d like to learn it. I think it would be fun. What’s her name?”

“Her designation is BD-42, but she claims to be amendable for changes.”

Luke hummed and stared at his new little droid friend. This was just… a dream. There was no other explanation. “Hmmm. We will have to brainstorm, won’t we, girl? I’m sure we can come up with something fantastic that is very you.” He looked up at Ben and he knew his eyes were sparkling because, well, they had to be. “Thank you, Ben.”

“I did promise you a droid at some point.”

“I think…. I think we might be a good team,” Luke agreed. “And we have a lot to do with an uncertain amount of time to do it.”

#it's about gosh darn time #sorry it's been a bit #revolving suns #revolving suns au #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #luke skywalker #protective luke skywalker #the reunion #clone trooper waxer #waxer #lieutenant waxer #rex #captain rex #fives #arc trooper fives #jesse #tup #quinlan vos #anakin skywalker #just a bit #siri tachi #eyyyy she's here #i got a bit of a soft spot for the spunky undercover gal #she's Obi-Wan's friend too and he needs his friends around #au #time travel #time travel au #fix it #it will be

[princess-of-riviaa]

Need You Tonight

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend has been so busy saving the world that he’s struggled to make any time for you. He makes it up to you tonight.

Warning(s): soft dom! Clark, sub! reader, dirty talk, thigh riding

Word Count: 1,435

You jump when you hear the front door shut. Clark’s footsteps quickly follow as he makes his way into the kitchen, putting away the groceries he just brought home. You can’t bring yourself to move from the couch in the living room. Your stomach knots tighter with each passing second. Guilt makes your throat tighten and your face burn.

“Babe?” Clark calls out as he finishes putting away the food. “I’m home!”

You can’t find it in yourself to reply. You play with the hem of your shirt nervously as his footsteps near.

Clark appears in the living room and notices you on the couch. “I remembered the cheese but they were out of your chips; I can go back later this week…” His voice fades as he realizes that you’re avoiding his gaze, your body turned away from it. “What is it?”

Still, you’re silent.

He makes his way to the couch in two long strides. “Did something happen while I was out? Are you hurt?” He takes a seat beside you and holds your small hands in his. “Baby, are you hurt?”

You shake your head, feeling slightly better when he sighs in relief.

“Then what is it? What happened?” he wonders.

You swallow. “I…”

He brings his hand to the side of your face and brushes the pad of his thumb against your cheek. The touch is warm and soft and loving. “Talk to me, love. It’ll be okay, whatever it is.”

“I touched myself while you were gone.” Your voice is the same quiet tone you use when you’re submitting to him.

Clark frowns, not understanding for a second.

“I touched myself without your permission,” you explain.

His posture changes as he wraps his head around this confession, falling into the role of your dominant. “You know you’re not supposed to do that,” he says, though his tone isn’t as harsh as it normally is when he reprimands you, already aware that you know this fact. “But thank you for telling me the truth. I think my baby girl should get rewarded for that.”

You look up at him for the first time, your eyes wide. This isn’t what you’d wanted, not how you’d envisioned the night going. Why is he always so quick to forgive you?

“But I broke a rule,” you argue. “Don’t you think my disobedience outweighs my candor?”

He frowns again, confused at what you’re getting at.

“And if not,” you continue, “shouldn’t my arguing with you now cancel out my moment of honesty?”

His eyes widen slightly as it finally clicks. You want him to punish you.

But he must be tired or not in the mood for it because he says, “It’s okay. I’ll let it slide this once.”

Your face falls with disappointment. Granted, Clark has been spending a lot of time with the Justice League as of late, saving worlds and cities alike. He has reason to be tired. But still… you miss your boyfriend when he’s not here, and some days you wish he really was just a farmer from Kansas and you didn’t have to share him with the rest of mankind. Now whenever he’s home with you, he spends his free time sleeping and rejuvenating. You miss your boyfriend with an ache that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

But you let him head to the bedroom anyways, knowing that he needs sleep. The sound of running water can be heard from the living room as he starts his shower. You make your way to your shared bedroom and change into your pajamas--a fresh pair of underwear and one of your favorite shirts of Clark’s that hangs halfway down your thighs. You’re in bed by the time he finishes in the bathroom and you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. The quiet sounds of him moving around and opening drawers soothes you; knowing he’s here with you makes you sleep better.

The bed shifts as Clark climbs in beside you. You listen to his breathing--in, out, in out--and then he sits up and pulls the covers off of you.

“Hey!” you exclaim, irritated at the cold air of the ceiling fan hits you.

“You broke a rule,” he tells you, “and I’m not about to let you go to bed before you’ve been punished.”

Your heart flutters in your chest as you realize he’s changed his mind. You sit up as Clark moves to rest his back against the headboard. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark by now so you can see the outline of his body but not the details of his face. Clark, of course, can see every inch of you perfectly, with or without the lights on.

He pats his leg. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Trying to not look as eager as you feel, you take your time to move towards him and straddle his lap. He grabs a lock of your hair and twirls it between his fingers, tugging on it just enough to send pleasurable goosebumps down your spine.

“You were so eager for me today, couldn’t even wait until I got home to fuck you,” Clark tisks. You love how vulgar he gets when you’re doing this, love that he lets himself go and doesn’t hold anything back from you. Any other time he’d be blushing at the thought of talking like this but he does it because he knows it drives you crazy.

You shake your head. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He moves his hand to your face, running his thumb across your chin. “Hmm… see, I don’t think that you are. But I’ll make you sorry.”

His threat goes right to your core. The clench of your thighs doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Already so wound up for me, and I haven’t even touched you.” He laughs, gloating in the power he has over you.

“I’ve missed you, sir,” you admit.

He pauses, the light in his eyes struggling to balance between the sweet, loving Clark that you know and the merciless dom that treats you like his little slut. “I know, sweetheart,” he coos, though he still manages to speak in that dominating voice. “I’ve been so busy with my job, I haven't been able to take care of my girl properly. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to take care of you, make you feel good? That’s why you were acting up.”

You nod and bury your head into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him and letting his body heat wrap around you in a comforting blanket.

“Well I still have to punish you,” he says, “but because I’ve missed you too, I’m going to give us both a little treat: you’re going to ride my thigh until you cum, all the while telling me everything running through that naughty little head of yours.”

You move to straddle his leg and gasp when your core rubs against the thick muscle of his quad. Even through your panties, the thickness and warmth and strength of his leg is already making you wet.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You try to concentrate on talking while still moving your hips. “I’m thinking… that I miss feeling your body against mine… and--oh!” You cry out when he flexes his leg, his muscle rubbing against your clit. “I’m thinking a-about… how I wish it had been your hands inside of me earlier, instead of mine… how your fingers fit so much tighter than mine, and you know just how to m-move them to…” You’ve increased your pace by now, your eyes closed as you bask in the burning pleasure in your core. “You feel so good!”

“I can feel you clenching around my leg; you’re so close, sweetheart,” Clark encourages. He grips your hips and moves them faster against his leg. “Cum for me. I want to see you fall apart without me even touching you.”

You let him control your movements and throw your head back as your high reaches its peak. You cry out his name as you cum. He curses under his breath at the sight of you coming undone in front of him. You continue to grind against his thigh as you soak through your panties and your arousal drips onto his leg. Your head rests on his chest. He runs a soothing hand down your back as you try to catch your breath and clear the blissed-out fog in your mind.

Clark kisses your cheek and says, “Rest well, sweetheart. Tomorrow I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk for days.”

***

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#clark kent #clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #henry cavill #henry cavill smut

[tanoraqui]

[continuation of this] [read on AO3]

There was no practical way to hide the fact that the Sunshot Campaign’s dread Yiling Patriarch was a homicidal amnesiac (a mad dog, they said, a crime and danger to keep around; leashed only by the Jiang siblings and Hanguang-jun, and how secure was that leash, anyway? Jiang Cheng held his head high and kept walking, because he didn’t have the time to deal with every little thing and he didn’t have a cogent counterargument.) 

How could it stay silent? He was still Wei Wuxian; he didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. He bounced around each night’s camp greeting people like they were new and asking what they were doing like they hadn’t done the same thing yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He flirted with Lan Wangji so outrageously that Jiang Cheng was starting to think the Second Jade really must love the idiot, to tolerate it all. He still remembered Jiang fighting forms, even though he couldn’t do them all without a golden core; he whined to be dragged out of bed and then helped Jiang Cheng train the new recruits every morning, even though not once did he remember their names. He didn’t remember Jiang Cheng’s name, or Jiang Yanli’s, or where they’d grown up or...anything. 

Sometimes he snapped in an instant from Wei Wuxian-typical smiling to something dark and cruel, and utterly heedless of political or other consequences. (So, exactly the same Wei Wuxian, a small, bitter part of Jiang Cheng muttered—no, that was what made it terrible. He so often kept smiling, too, almost the exact same smile.) Usually it was directed at the Wens, but more than one allied cultivator or mundane soldier died in cold blood because they said something rude—not so much to Wei Wuxian himself as to one of the people he “liked.” More to Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji than Jiang Cheng himself, which was just fine by Jiang Cheng—the less, the better. Nie Mingjue tolerated the losses as part of war, which meant Wei Wuxian stayed, but the only reason LanlingJin didn’t pull out of the Sunshot Campaign entirely was that Jin Zixuan himself insisted he forgave the strangulation incident.

It was inevitable that the enemy tried to take advantage of it.

From the ground it was like this: 

Jiang Cheng was in the thick of battle, wielding Sandu with no room for a whip, but that was fine because he had his disciples (new, all still new) around him to act as his second weapon and more. The Wens weren’t stupid: they came at him several at a time, hoping numbers could overwhelm his skill. He slashed at a red-robed fighter on his left, dodged a blow from his right, and pierced Sandu like a scorpion’s stinger through a man in front of him. Another strike came from the right and as he turned and brought up Sandu to block it, he thought, oh god, it’s contagious.

Because the cultivator was wearing Jiang purple (just an armband, but few of them had more than that), and yet he didn’t recognize her.

Then she tried to take his head off and he just barely parried, on reflex more than anything; the blade bit into his shoulder and he managed a clumsy riposte that bounced off her armguard. At the same time, he realized that he didn’t recognize her because she wasn’t one of his disciples. 

The haunting dizi music that Jiang Cheng had come to accept as natural background to a fight, that couldn’t possibly suffuse all the area of a busy battlefield and yet always did, slid abruptly into a furious shriek. Before his foe could push her advantage, the man he’d just killed flung himself onto her sword, pushing forward up the blade so he could tear at her face, Around them the other Wen dead sprang up as well—as did the fallen of YunmengJiang, an awkwardness they’d all resigned themselves to. Sometimes Wei Wuxian thought to let their own dead lie, but most of the time he didn’t, and most of the time no one minded much—it was desecration, but in the name of fighting the Wen even beyond the very end. 

But this time, they didn’t just attack the Wen. This time, the corpse of Liu Qingbiao, who had run away from her merchant parents to be a rogue and then Jiang cultivator, leapt from behind onto Huang Lao, who had taken up battle with the fighter on Jiang Cheng’s unguarded left. The Wen Huang Lao fought was torn down by one of his dead fellows; behind him, an unknown corpse with a purple armband ripped into another fighter in red. Around then, Wen and Jiang and not-Jiang turned furiously, awash with the dark smoke of resentful energy, on Wen and Jiang and not-Jiang. 

A small corpse guard settled in around Jiang Cheng himself: three Wens, Huang Lao, and another man he didn’t recognize with a bloody purple sash around his waist. 

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng bellowed. “What are you—”

He lunged out between two of his unwanted corpse guards to stop a live Wen soldier who would have struck Yu Shanmei, who fought with them because Yu Ziyuan had been her favorite aunt. A moment later, the soldier got back to its feet, black-eyed, and lunged for her again.

“Wei– fuck.” Jiang Cheng flung himself onto Sandu and took to the sky. Toward the ridge overlooking the battle. “STOP IT, YOU IDIOT! YOU’RE KILLING OUR PEOPLE!”

He waved his hands as he shouted, regardless of the dangerous silhouette he was presenting. He didn’t need to worry—one arrow flicked past him and the music changed again; deep and fast as an ocean current and shadows sprang up around him, half-substantial ghosts and tendrils of pure resentful energy. A sudden chorus of cries from the treeline was no doubt suddenly doomed archers.

The shadows only thickened as he approached the ridge, where the Yiling Patriarch stood alone. Wei Wuxian didn’t acknowledge him. His attention remained fixed on the nightmare of a battlefield, his terrible dizi at his lips.

Jiang Cheng landed directly in front of him and yanked the dizi down. “Wei Wuxian, stop!”

There was a moment (there was always a moment) in which he thought Wei Wuxian wouldn’t recognize him. His eyes were as dark as the dead’s and his face showed nothing but implacable cold. By a narrow margin, Jiang Cheng’s heartbreak beat out his awareness that he was likely about to die.

Then Wei Wuxian blinked, some of the darkness receding, at least enough to show the whites of his eyes. He lowered the dizi another inch of his own accord (Jiang Cheng had barely been able to drag it down to shoulder height, even though he was still pulling. Wei Wuxian was weak without his golden core, but the shadows that wreathed him lent him plenty of strength.)

“Are you alright?” he asked, worried like Jiang Cheng had just hit his head on the dock, and nothing worse. He raised one hand to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

Jiang Cheng batted it away. “Stop the corpses!” he shouted. “You’re killing YungmengJiang—” Wei Wuxian remained silent, watched him curiously; names, fuck, names. “The people in purple! You idiot, stop killing them!”

They had so few people to lose. Yu Shanmei was likely already down, unable to perform her best without room to snap a whip. Han Lingya was already recovering from a wound in her arm; Jiang Cheng should never have let him on the field today in the first place. He’d have to write to Liu Qingbiao’s parents, and Huang Lao’s, and Shen Chiwu and Wen Sichen (no relation) and Xi Yanji (they’d get him on the backstroke; he always left himself open—) Jiang Cheng couldn’t look down at them or he’d be lost; he just had to shake his death-eyed, half-gone brother until he stopped—

Wei Wuxian’s hand had come away with some of Jiang Cheng’s blood on it. He licked it off one finger, glancing away like a child who knew he’d done wrong. But when he looked back, his expression was familiarly mulish, save for all the dark and cold.

“They started attacking you. Someone lied to me. I know some of them are our fighters, but I can’t tell which ones, so it’s safer to just kill them all.” 

It was funny because less than a year ago, Jiang Cheng would’ve been quietly ecstatic to be the absolute center of one person’s devotion. Not, admittedly, that he had that dubious honor even now—Wei Wuxian remembered Jiang Yanli better than anyone else, since that terrible night with the sliced wrist, but she was safe at base camp (thank fuck), and even Lan Wangji was with the forces at the other end of the valley.

“I know which ones!” Jiang Cheng snapped (begged). “And so do the ones who are actually Jiang Sect! Just—” they might be equally lost if the corpses stopped completely; they were still wildly outnumbered—“focus on the people in red! A-jie– your shijie would want you to leave the people in purple to sort themselves out!”

Wei Wuxian pouted, with a edge of real disappointment (he only ever seemed truly content anymore when he was slaughtering whole battlefields). “All right.”

He raised his dizi again (Jiang Cheng let go), and after a shuddering moment, Jiang Cheng forced himself to turn around around and watch. There were half as many YunmengJiang cultivators standing as there had been when he’d left, and a quarter as many mundane troops—well, standing and alive. Almost all were upright. It was too far to pick out individuals, but he could tell from the fighting style—he’d been training them all himself for months.

Their dead turned their focus back to the Wen troops in red, as did the Wen corpses themselves, and Jiang Chang let out a breath for what felt like the first time in several minutes. He fought to steady it, to calm his fluttering qi and push it into his shoulder to heal, while beside him, the Yiling Patriarch finished the battle.

It didn’t take long. It had already been hitting the critical point of dead overwhelming the living, before this terrible interlude. Jiang Sect’s fighters knew each other, cultivator and mundane alike; they dealt easily with the few remaining imposters.

As the battle died down (ha), there was a cloth-on-rock scraping to their left. Jiang Cheng turned to see a trio of long-nailed female ghosts—some of Wei Wuxian’s favorites—dragging forward the bloody remains– no, the bloody body of a still-living man. Though from the ghost women’s giggles, he wouldn’t be alive for along. Certainly he must already wish he was dead.

He had a Jiang-purple cloth tied around his left bicep. Jiang Cheng squinted at him, as the ghost women dropped their prize at their master’s feet, and didn’t recognize his face. Ropes of shadow wrapped around the man, cutting more lines of blood into his skin.

Wei Wuxian didn’t stop playing until the last red-robed Wen on the battlefield was dead, his eyes dark and his expression cold. It didn’t change as he left a few notes lingering in the air and looked down at the shadow-bound prisoner. 

He bumped Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with his own like they were kids walking streets of Lotus Pier. “This is the one who came and told me there were reinforcements joining you from the rear, and to clear them a path. The ladies confirm it. Do you know him?”

“No,” said Jiang Cheng, just as cold.

“Well then.” Wei Wuxian nearly sang. The ropes that spread out from his shadow yanked their prisoner to his feet. The man’s mouth was gagged with twisting darkness; his eyes were bleeding but wide with fear. 

Wei Wuxian smiled brightly and tipped the man’s chin up with the end of his dizi. “I can be patient, you know. We can ask him questions before I tear him apart.”

#mdzs #the untamed #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #FUN TIMES HERE GUYS #...i did not check to see if any of these are real plausible chinese names before posting hm #i shold probably do that #anyway this whole thing was def meng yao's idea so uh...blame him #also don't worry we're just gonna take this as a very pyrrhic victory and henceforth th yiling patriarch is going to have an ASSIGNED MINDER #for every fight #...and it's probably gonna be jiang yanli tbh #jc: you cannot put my sister near a battle!! what the fuck are you going to do next - ask /huaisang/ to do it?! #nmj: ok a) don't fuck with me or my brother. b) YOUR brother is a half-feral death monster and i'm ONLY letting this continue bc i fucking #HATE wen ruohan and he's undeniably good at helping us kill his minions - but apparently only if he's TIGHTLY AND COMPETENTLY CONTROLLED #and i respect your sister's ability to do that #jc: ...yanli IS the most competent person in this camp. and the world. except for her taste in men.

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 14

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,966

Warnings: Lactation kink, fingering, nipping.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt​. This fulfills my lactation kink square.

In the warm sunlight streaming through your window, you can feel Spencer’s arm fitting snugly around your waist, holding you close. As you begin to stir, you realize he’s already awake too. Since it’s a weekend day, you have no plans, aside from taking care of the adorable time-vampire that is Charlotte Magnolia Reid. “So what are we doing today, handsome?” You mumble, the words barely decipherable to your own ears.

Spencer kisses the back of your hair before nuzzling his nose into the side of your neck. It tickles and sends you into a fit of laughter that ends up with you laying on top of him. “We aren’t doing anything,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “But you are.”

“What?”

Is it mom brain fog? Have you forgotten something you had planned?

When Spencer clocks your quizzical look, he laughs. “I have a surprise for you. You have to be ready by 11 AM.”

Spencer playfully smacks your ass when you get up before following you to the bathroom, where you get in one of your rare shower quickies. And Charlotte hasn’t woken up yet! Rejoice! She’s not sleeping through the night just yet, but she’s down to only waking up once or occasionally twice.

While you dry your hair, Spencer gets Charlotte, who finally begins to stir. They pass the bathroom and you sneak a kiss to your baby’s cheek. “I’ll be right there for feeding!” You cry out from the tiled walls.

“There’s a bottle left in the refrigerator, I got it!”

Since you have no idea where you’ll be going, you put on minimal makeup and then walk outside to where Spencer’s feeding Charlotte on the couch, talking to her about the people passing by on the street below - making up stories about them. “Babe, I don’t know where I’m going so what do I wear?”

“Wear one of my graphic tees and your most comfortable pair of leggings.”

With your instructions, you slip into your bedroom and get dressed. Spencer’s shirt is a tad too tight considering the girls are still big, but it’s good enough and the next few hours pass without any major incidents aside from a bit of spit up on Spencer’s pajama shirt.

As you’re rocking Charlotte to a mid-morning nap, there’s a knock at the door. “I’ve got it,” Spencer replies when he sees you go to get up.

Emily, Tara, Penelope and JJ are plowing inside in a matter of seconds, cooing over ‘little baby genius Reid.’ “Good god,” Tara says softly. “She’s so beautiful. How do you two not stare at her every second of every day?”

Sometimes it’s difficult, with her soft brown hair like her father’s and big beautiful eyes the same color as yours. “Well, some days, we do exactly that, and other days she doesn’t want to sleep or she’s sick and driving me crazy, so then I normally see the inside of the pillow into which I’m screaming,” you say quickly, flashing them a cheesy grin.

JJ snorts. It’s been a while, but she remembers the feeling well. “Did Spence tell you what we’re doing today?”

Shaking your head, you glance toward where Spencer’s standing in the kitchen, gathering ingredients together that seem to be for tonight’s dinner. “Paint and wine class,” he says proudly. “After I saw you painting Charlotte’s nursery, I knew it had to be done eventually.”

“Aww, you’re so romantic, I love you.” You swoon and run to kiss him, blushing as the girls ooh and ahh over Spencer’s sweet gesture. He’s your everything in every way. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Spencer takes her from your arms and looks down to talk to her, shaking her little hand with his fingers. “We’ll be okay, right? You won’t kill me?”

Laughing, you grab your purse off the counter and give him another kiss before leaving with the girls. It’s been ages.

--

Thankfully, Dr. Obel cleared you a while ago for the occasional cup of coffee or glass of wine, despite still breastfeeding, so you nurse the hell out of a glass of red at the painting party. Besides you, Emily, Tara, JJ and Penelope, there are four other women there that know each other and are much less animated. In other circumstances, you might feel bad about being so loud and laughing like a maniac, but you haven’t had a girls’ day out in months, so fuck it.

At these classes, they always have someone teaching and a specific painting is chosen ahead of time. After a while of listening to the instructor, you paint what she’s painting, but at your speed and adding little flourishes here and there. While most of the ladies have basic paintings (because admittedly they’d rather be drinking than painting), you end up with something you’re really happy with.

Shadowed pine trees sit on a moonlit lake, stars, trees and the moon alike mirrored in the lake’s surface in a myriad of colors. Bob Ross is one of your biggest influences when it comes to painting, and by the end, it feels like you’ve done him proud. “Damn, Y/N!” Emily says, taking the last sip of her third (and last) glass of wine. “Spencer said you could paint, but that’s fucking spectacular!”

All the ladies, and even the instructor, praise your work. At first, you deny it and tell them it’s not all that, but eventually you allow yourself the praise. Something you’re working on. “Ladies, this was amazing. Can we make this like an every other month thing? Every third month?”

“Hell, yea,” Penelope says, quickly picking up one of the hors d'oeuvres and shoving it into her mouth. “Man, thith iz gud.”

“Sewiously, I ‘eed the recipe,” Tara replies with her mouth equally full.

The subway ride back to your apartment is filled with random girl talk and lots of baby talk. Everyone wants to know Charlotte’s milestones and to see every single picture you’ve ever taken, which is already a lot given she’s less than a year.

Upstairs, you all walk in just as Charlotte needs a diaper change. When Emily and Tara offer to take dirty diaper detail, you just smile and sink into the couch. You’re not about to argue with just a little extra time off mom duty.

“Well, this was amazing,” JJ says, running her finger down Charlotte’s cheek. “You guys need anything? All set on food and stuff?”

“Yea, JJ,” Spencer replies. “We’re all good. For now.”

Once the ladies leave, you gather Charlotte close to your chest and lift your shirt. The time away refueled your batteries and you sigh happily when she begins to eat.

“Have a good time?” Spencer asks. You point back to the painting which is propped against the wall near the door. “That’s beautiful!”

“Thanks, babe. And thanks for the surprise. It was really nice to have a girls’ day.”

Spencer’s hand sits around your shoulder, his fingers slipping delicately into your hair. “I’m glad you had a good time. I have my girls right here.”

“Did you two fare okay?”

He nods and you both sit in silence for a moment. You lean into him, content and relaxed. The peaceful atmosphere allows your mind to wander and when you mind wanders, it tends to walk into dirty territory; today is no different. “Hey, Spence, I have what might seem like a weird question.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever thought about you know, maybe doing that wonderful thing you do with your hands while getting a firsthand taste of breast milk?”

Immediately, his pants tighten. “I hate the fact that it has been a consistent thought since your  boobs grew, yea. Definitely thought about it. Like I don’t wanna sit here and have you feed me or anything, but like...a little taste? Yea.”

“Wanna maybe give it a go later?”

A smile is all the answer you need.

---

Later that night, once Charlotte is finally asleep, you and Spencer practically trip into your bedroom, peeling off clothing like you’re in a nudist colony.

Spencer groans appreciatively when you jump into his arms and peel off your shirt and bra. He carries you toward the bed and plops you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, laughing as he wriggles you out of your leggings.

When he descends upon you, eyes hungry and hands frenzied, your smile fades into a lust-filled gaze that has Spencer nipping at your neck and chin and lips. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles against you, honeyed voice running deliciously up your spine. For a moment you get in your head; you don’t feel gorgeous as of late, still a ways away from your pre-baby body, but Spencer snuffs that thought out of your head. “Stop thinking and feel.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slithers his way down your body and licks a stripe up your slit with a flattened tongue, moaning at your taste before slipping two fingers into your sodden pussy. “So wet for me already?”

“Always for you, Sir.”

Spreading your legs with his hands, he crawls back up, nipping and biting and sucking at any and every patch of skin that pleases him. And all you have to do is lay back and enjoy it and he calls you his good girl.

When he latches onto your nipple, the tug on your breast is similar but the feeling is altogether different. The way he rolls his tongue over your nipple causes you to arch into him, gathering his hair in your hand and pushing him closer. Every time he nips at your nipples, bringing them to taut peaks, it shoots straight to your core and you buck into his hand. “So wet, Sir.”

“Does this get you off, love?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Excuse you,” he says, immediately stilling his fingers.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels wrong. Taboo.”

“And that gets you off?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“My dirty girl.”

Switching from nipple to nipple, never leaving one untouched for too long, his fingers stroke at that sensitive spot inside you. You buck down into his hand and reach between you, slipping your hands into his pants to stroke softly at his hardening cock. “Come for me, Y/N,” he breathes, his palm sitting heavily on your clit. “I want you to come for me.”

His words ignite a fire inside you, white hot light bursting before your eyes as he latches onto your nipple one last time. “Fuck, Sir,” you laugh shakily, stroking his cock harder and faster. “Now, come for me. I need to see you.”

Spencer bites down on your lower lip and pulls away, hissing through clenched teeth as his orgasm starts to roll over him. “That’s it, baby. Harder. Keep going.”

All you can hear over the sound of your movements, wet and slick and rough, is the rolling growl that leaves Spencer’s mouth when he comes in your hand and over both your stomachs. “Shit.”

“Have fun?”

“Yes,” he laughs, exhaustedly collapsing at your side. “You feeling okay? You were getting in your head for a second. I could feel it.”

“Yea, still having body issues. But I’m working on it.”

“I have an exercise for you to do. Not physical,” he says quickly. “A self love one. Every morning when we get up, I want you to look in the mirror and say one thing you like about yourself. You can start with things that aren’t physical and then work up to physical.”

A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. This is the dynamic you always wanted - someone you could rely on in every single way. Even at your lowest, your craziest, your most overwhelmed, Spencer is there for you, telling you how beautiful you are as you drift off in his arms.

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ 

#through it all #the most natural thing in the world #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #dontshootmespence

[heartsofbeskar]

from the ashes

chapter six | read on AO3

din djarin x oc

WARNINGS: violence, swearing

WORDS: 3.2K

EXCERPT: He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

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Ten couldn’t think of a better sound than the Ursa’s engines finally running again. Decidedly less strained than before, she thought. Though that may have just been wishful thinking.

They’d been sequestered on the asteroid for the better part of two standard weeks. The time they’d lost was valuable, but nothing compared to the time they’d lose if the Ursa bailed on them mid-flight.

On the surface, spending time with the Mandalorian was not too much different than spending time alone. He barely spoke unless he was spoken to, and moved around like a ghost, despite the heavy armour. But there was something … imposing about the man. Not threatening, but Ten could feel his presence in a room, sometimes even feel his eyes on her. It wholly unsettled her— not that she’d let him know that.

Much — well actually all — of their conversation in the recent days had centered around where the hell to go next. It was obvious an Imperial conspirator had inside knowledge of the job and that Ten and Mando were the ones working it. They had a list of contacts from Greef Karga who may have information; to seek out those contacts now would surely be suicide, for everyone involved.

“You feel sure about Ronhar Kraz?” Ten asked. The armoured man sat to her right nodded slowly. Kraz was a businessman who specialized in textiles and linen trade between the core and the Outer Rim. Seemingly benign, but he used those same textiles and linen to smuggle weapons during the days of the Empire. For both sides.

“It feels too obvious,” she mused. “Former weapons smuggler turned Imperial double agent. Why even attach your name onto this if so many people in the Outer Rim know you worked with the Empire?”

“You’re assuming a level of intelligence and foresight I don’t often attribute to Imps,” he said.

“That’s the mindset that gets you fucked over eventually,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Is that what happened to you?”

Ten turned her head sharply, glaring at him. “You should watch that metal mouth or I’ll find something that will bend beskar.”

She heard a short breathy noise she’d come to known as a laugh processed through his modulator.

They’d almost passed through the outer boundary of the asteroid field, so she focused on steering through the last of the rocks. An itch had settled under her skin in the past few days, an urge to go, go, go, escape the confines of this belt they’d found themselves unexpectedly marooned within. As much as she still dreaded getting tangled up in Empire business, she felt that coursing of adrenaline in her veins that had been escaping her for many months now. That thrill of her life being put on the line of her own volition.

That adrenaline spiked again as they were fired on.

—

“Shit!” Ten cursed, the ship veering sharply upon impact. Din reacted on instinct, seat spinning towards the weapons controls he’d made a point of committing to memory. “They must have followed our ion trail to the edge of the belt. Have the fuckers just been waiting here the whole time?”

Another hit struck them, almost sending Din flying into the viewport. As he lurched, his gaze locked on the ships in front of them, before Ten steered them quickly away in an evasive maneuver. The ships pursued. He wasn’t surprised he recognized the ships, but he was surprised that—

“Those are New Republic ships. That’ll be why we weren’t vapourized on sight.” He paused as he attempted to target lock the ships still following close behind. There were too many asteroids lingering in the belt’s gravitational pull for them to jump to hyperspace. He needed to buy time. “Are you wanted?”

Ten didn’t look at him as she pushed their speed, but he could somehow feel her rolling her eyes at him. “No, I’m not an idiot. Even if I was, the Ursa’s totally off register, there’s no way—”

“Torpedo approaching lower left engine exhaust,” he interrupted. Cursing again, she took them as far right as possible — and right towards a large asteroid. Din braced, but she slowed their speed enough to whip them quickly around its circumference. He had to admit she was an impressive pilot.

“Are you wanted?”

“...Yes.”

“Now why am I not surprised by—”

She was cut off by the incoming communication alarm. They exchanged glances before Ten reached forward and set off the acceptance switch.

“Unidentified vessel,” came the drone of a New Republic officer. “Cut your engines immediately and prepare for boarding.”

“And why the hell should we do that?” Ten snapped, taking them through a narrow gap between asteroids. Din rolled his eyes now beneath the helmet.

“You are wanted for the murder of Jula Lars. Cut your engines immediately and prepare to be taken into custody. Failure to comply can result in—”

Ten slammed her hand down on the controls and cut off the channel. Din noticed her other hand tightening on the steering gears, knuckles going white. The scars he knew to be there were barely visible.

“Those fuckers … do you have a target lock on the ships? I’m going to blast them from the fucking sky,” she snapped.

As lightly as he dared, Din placed a hand on her arm that was closest to him. “They’re only doing their job. Obviously the Imps put them on our tail. No one else knew we were there.”

“Oh and you’re now the sudden pacifist?” she turned her head to glare at him. It felt like ice began flowing through his veins.

“We don’t need to help create more victims to the Empire,” he said lowly. Something flashed in her eyes. She kept eye contact with him for as long as she dared before turning forward to continue steering.

“Fine,” was all she said. A pause. More shots volleying around them, missing the ship as it weaved. “Then we need to go to hyperspace. Now.”

“There’s still too many asteroids we could—”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, Mandalorian,” she said, and she was already engaging, then ramping their speed and then— rocks flew past them as superliminal speeds as they were catapulted into hyperspace. Din held his breath the entire time, certain they were headed straight for a rock which, at these speeds, would vapourize them for sure.

He let it go when he realized they were clear. Looking beside him, he saw Ten staring at him, her scarred eyebrow raised. “I told you to trust me.”

He scoffed, still feeling on edge. “Set the course for Leotis IV.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

—

Ten landed the Ursa as discreetly as she could, a few kilometres out from the Kraz estate. Thankfully it didn’t seem the New Republic had any insight on where they were going, only where they had been. But there was no guessing how long that would last.

Mando was in the hold, already securing his blaster into his belt. She recognized a couple other models and … something that didn’t look like a blaster at all. Before she could get a longer look his cloak fell over it.

“Kraz’s estate only has minimum security in place. Security cameras, only two from the back, no motion sensors,” she said, opening up the weapons compartment.

“How do you know all this?” Mando asked, entering her field of view. She looked up from where she was sheathing throwing knives. She shrugged at him.

“You hunt people, I hunt information. It’s my business to know my way around prominent figure’s properties.” Reaching up, Ten finally grabbed her blaster from the top shelf it sat on. She knew she could very likely do this without it, but it would probably appease Mando.

“If he is working with the Empire, he may have increased his security since your latest information,” he noted. She nodded as she hung her own cloak around her shoulders.

“At least then it would make for a challenge,” she said, nodding her head towards the door.

They closed the distance from the Ursa on foot so as not to be seen by anyone on the grounds. The tree cover was just enough to hide it from view overhead. Mando seemed to want to take the walk in their usual state of silence, and Ten didn’t complain.

As they walked, Ten admired the foliage that seemed to grow at mostly knee height on this planet. It bloomed undisturbed in the gaps left by the trees, enjoying the unrestricted sunlight. The rays seemed to bounce off the petals which appeared in every colour.

It made her think of Yaim. The trees there had been much denser, and wider. But the air seemed to vibrate in the same way, the wind so delicate Ten could almost close her eyes and imagine it was tender fingers on her cheek.

She reached out, as she would always do when she was a girl, and felt that unwavering presence, its weight bearing down on her bones and her soul alike. But … less heavy than usual, which surprised her.

Finally, they reached the wall which indicated the edge of the property, It wasn’t high, maybe four or five metres by Ten’s estimation. The surface was uneven, and she grabbed a hold of the texture, testing it.

“This should work. If we can scale to the—” She was cut off by a sharp whizzing noise beside her. As she examined the grappling hook connected to his vambrace, she was absolutely sure he was smirking beneath the helmet. “Or we could do it that way.”

He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

“Hold on tight,” was all he said, and then they were rapidly ascending up, up, past the rough stones in the wall, until Mando swung them onto the top, which was thankfully flat. “You can let go now.”

“Right,” she breathed. Shaking her head, she turned towards the building now filling their view. As she’d planned, the route to the wall had taken them close to the back corner of the property. If her information was current, Kraz only had cameras facing his back and front entrances. “You’ve got a scope on that pulse rifle, right? Can you see the cameras on the back wall?”

Swinging the rifle around to rest on his shoulder, he wordlessly aimed at the building. Ten studied his stance from the corner of her eye. His feet were heavy, planted shoulder width apart. He didn’t sway as the wind picked up, a solid beskar statue in the foreign landscape.

Suddenly he fired once, then twice. Ten flinched at the unexpected noise. Finally, he spoke. “The cameras are taken care of.”

“A little warning next time?” Before he could respond, she flung herself from the wall. She braced herself on her hands as she landed, Mando dropping beside her a moment later. She held up a hand.

After a few beats of silence, she nodded at him. “Seems like they haven’t upgraded security after all,” she noted, moving towards the back entrance. As they got closer, she saw that the cameras were indeed demolished by the shots.

“Don’t suppose you know the interior blueprints as well?” Mando asked at her left shoulder.

“No,” she shook her head. “Those are usually harder to get a hold of. But I have been hired by many men like Kraz. They like to keep their personal offices in the back of buildings, it makes them feel safer for some reason. See that window?”

She gestured directly above them, where the largest window on the back facade sat. It was also the only window inset with what appeared to be rare minerals.

“I agree,” Mando said before she could finish. “That’s a good place to start. After you.”

Ten examined the back entrance, gliding her hand along the smooth edges of the metal. The locking mechanism blinked orange gently, and she recognized an optical scanner. But beneath that … a keyboard override, hidden under an unlocked panel. Perfect.

Taking one of her daggers from her belt, she was able to tear off the cover of the keypad box with her hands. Ten held the dagger up. It was one of her favourites. The handle was nondescript, simple, fitted perfectly to her grip. Its blade was stronger than any other she owned, and she strongly suspected it had been mixed with beskar, though she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she would ask the Mandalorian.

She pried under the edge of the keypad, battling metal on metal, leveraging with all her strength. Finally, as she expected, her metal won, and the bottom edge of the keypad popped off with a satisfying crack. She cut every wire she found lying underneath, one by one until—

The door slid open with a whirr as the orange light went dark.

“Would’ve been faster to shoot it open,” said Mando.

“And set off every alarm they have in this place.” She strode past him into the building. The cement walls echoed her footsteps, but there was no other sound bouncing off them. The overhead lights flickered slowly.

The hallway branched into a T shortly ahead of them, and her and Mando took to a side of the wall. Nodding, they inched over the corner, blasters drawn. Ten found a long corridor on her side, ending in a window. There were no doors. She spoke first, in a low tone.

“All clear here.”

“Here too.”

Relaxing marginally, she turned. The other direction appeared much the same, with another doorless hallway. Ten shrugged.

“Your choice is as good as mine.”

Mando wordlessly started down the hall to the right. She followed, pulling her hood over her head as she did. She ran her hand lightly along the wall. It was cold to the touch. She tightened her grip on her blaster.

A stairway emerged at the end of the hallway, and they followed silently. The next level was similar to the first, though featured more hallways going deeper into the building and an occasional linen draped on the wall. Finally, they came to a wide door, inlaid with the same mineral as the exterior window.

It was empty inside. A large wooden desk occupied much of the room, facing towards the ornate window. The sunlight streamed in freely, casting multicoloured shapes over the room. It reflected off Mando’s beskar as he approached the computer terminal on the desk.

“The communications log should give us enough information on whether he’s working with the Empire.” He called up a projected screen, gloved fingers running over the controls. “Should be … here. Most people don’t even restrict access. We can download it to look at on the ship.”

Ten nodded. She moved towards the window. Closer to it, she could see the small bubbles enclosed in the inlays. It felt rough. She wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to touch today, but it felt as if a live wire had been inserted beneath her skin, the smallest of currents lighting her nerves.

“Done,” came Mando’s modulated tone, pulling her attention. “We should go—”

Before he could finish, the latch clicked in the door. They both watched, unable to do anything, as the handle turned and the door opened fully.

A human man stood there, looking down at his holopad at first. Mando raised his blaster slowly. By the time the man looked up, it was directly in front of his face, and his eyes widened as he took the two of them in.

“W-who the hell are you?” he asked shakily. “You shouldn’t be in here, I …”

“We’re going to walk out of here,” Mando said calmly. “There’s no reason to panic. You’re going to stay in this office for five minutes, and then go about your day. Got it?”

The man’s eyes darted rapidly back and forth between them. Ten tried to soften her eyes, to urge him to listen. She wasn’t sure it worked.

Faster than either of them could react, he screamed out, tripping backwards over himself out of the office. Mando fired down into his leg and he collapsed, screaming more, but it was too late, the damage had been done.

As they sprinted out and away from the office, Ten could already hear the sound of boots echoing off the walls. They’d almost reached the stairs when a group of armed security burst out of a hallway in front of them. It was six on two and damn if Ten didn’t like those odds.

Blaster fire broke out almost immediately. Just as quickly, Ten lost track of Mando in the shuffle, but it didn’t matter.

She shot at the two men in front of her, electing for quantity over quality in her aim. She managed to hit one somewhere in the torso and he crumpled to the ground. After a number of other shots she hit the next man in the shoulder, which worked to her advantage. He dropped his blaster with a shout, but stayed on his feet.

Ten pulled two of the small knives from her belt. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she aimed before whipping it forehead. It spun in the air before hitting its mark, buried inside the man’s neck. He sputtered as he fell to his knees, then onto his face.

Spinning around, she saw Mando taking down a fifth officer behind her, two others already on the ground. She counted quickly.

“Where’s the sixth one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mando grunted, dropping the officer to the ground. He raced toward the stairs and she followed.

It appeared they were mostly in the clear, the branch off to the door just ahead of them. Ten led ahead, turning the corner first.

She was met with a blaster pressed to her forehead. It was the sixth officer, her hands shaking as she pressed the barrel harder into the skin.

Ten couldn’t even consciously control her response. It didn’t matter that Mando stood just behind her.

Her hand reached up in front of her, gripping seemingly around nothing, pushing forward. She pulled on the invisible field which was always with her, calling on it. Slowly the barrel of the blaster moved away and so too did the officer, beginning to cough and sputter as her windpipe closed. Ten panted, squeezing tighter and higher, and now the officer was a good three metres in front of her, feet lifting off the ground, eyes rolling into her head. With a grunt, she quickly jerked her arm to the side, sending the officer flying into the wall. The crumpled figure on the ground didn’t move.

“You just …” came Mando’s voice behind her. She turned to look back at him. “You’re a Jedi.”

“We don’t have time for this but let’s get one thing straight. I am not a Jedi.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #din djain #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mywriting

[poutyhannie]

PART THREEEEEE!!!! Here’s some angst and smexy time with both Jisung and Minho. Like always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

warnings: smut, angst, fem!reader, oral both male and female receiving, cameos by Changbin and Minho

word count: +2.5k 

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Four weeks till the end of summer. An excited smile spreads across Jisung’s face as you exit the lecture hall, babbling on about Overwatch. Later, Jisung lets out small, pretty whines as your wrist snaps furiously, beckoning him closer to his unraveling. When you attach your lips to his tip and begin sucking, he comes into your mouth with a low moan.

Three weeks. Jisung wipes cum off your face with a small smile and you try to ignore the unfamiliar warm feeling in your chest, focusing on a more known sensation in your core. Your thighs are clenching around Jisung’s head as he furiously eats you out. This completely overwhelming feeling has you squeezing your eyes shut, curling your toes, and whimpering like a puppy. When Jisung buries his nose into your clit, burning pleasure shoots down your body and you feel yourself seizing up, wanting to push him away because it was so overwhelming but tugging him closer because it feels so good.

His rings leave red marks on your thighs and dazed, you look down to watch his bobbing head. Throwing your head back, you let out a choked groan, unfortunately mindful of the thin dorm walls. But when Jisung shoves a finger into you, sucking on your clit, you can’t prevent a high pitched moan from escaping your throat. Jisung growls into your pussy, reaching up to shove his other fingers into your mouth, his eyes hooded and dark. His lips are red and glossy, his tongue runs over them tantalizingly.

Your gut clenches when you realize that, in two weeks, once the fall starts, nothing will change between you and Jisung. Yeah, you’ll have to work around your roommate’s schedule but Jisung will always wait for you after class. He will always let out a soft moan when you choke on him. He will always place his hand on the back of your head to pull you closer to him in his sleep. Changbin silently grabs your pile of burger wrappers, throwing it out before you can stop him. He smiles softly when you thank him. Chan and Jisung are in line for the campus bakery, Jisung’s eyes wide as he surveys the donuts. Changbin’s gravely slightly amused voice distracts you from watching Jisung and you try to find it in yourself to be thankful for that. “I know you guys are fucking.”

You choked on your drink, “What?” Changbin’s knowing, amused smirk leaves you scrambling,

“No, we’re not…I mean yeah, we are but it only just started this summer. How did you know? Did he tell you?”

Changbin crosses his thíqûé arms. “You should know how he is with talking too much. He’s been gushing over you way too much to just have you two be friends.”

You remember back to all the moonlit nights where he would pour out his thoughts to you about the randomest things. You wanted to tell him to stop sharing, scared it would venture into emotional baggage. You nod.

“Jisung has always been sensitive. He loves more than life.”

You wince at the word ‘love’, hating Changbin’s implications and hating how your heart gets immediately hopeful.

Changbin continues, “I’m not his dad, I’m not gonna tell him what he can and can’t do, who he can and can’t fuck but you and I are alike. We don’t let people in easily and resist when people want to get close to us.”

You curse yourself at how easily Changbin reads you. Maybe it’s that easy because he sees himself. The older boy’s eyes are intense when he tells you, “I’d tell you not to get attached but its not you I’m worried about. I protect Jisung like family and I can’t let him get hurt. Either don’t let him give you his heart or take care of him.” Jisung complains that he doesn’t want to head back to the dorms immediately, pouting that he wants to keep walking around with you. You chose to ignore the last part, assuming that he just wanted to relieve stress. Changbin’s words weight heavily on your heart and you try to convince yourself that Jisung would never give you his heart, though you know that Changbin knows Jisung better than you do.

After laughter, face-splitting smiles, and more gazes than you’d like to admit, you guys find yourselves on a bench in the outskirts of a quiet park. Jisung is tired; his head lolls back onto the back of bench and his arms flop lazily by his sides. His eyes are droopy and stares up to the sky and his voice is croaky and throaty as he begins in a low voice, “Sometimes I feel like I can’t tell everything to Chan hyung and Changbin hyung.”

His confession causes a dull warning to ring in your head but you remain silent, allowing him to continue for some reason. “They know me so well and alway seem to have the ‘right answer’ but sometimes I don’t want an answer, I want to just sit in my feelings and how horrible I feel right in that moment. I don’t want a solution, I want them to comfort me and tell me that I’m doing well despite it all.” His pained eyes find yours and you tell yourself that the glossiness of them are a trick of the moonlight.

Your soft, strained voice comes out before you know what it’s gonna say. “You are doing well, Ji. You’re doing right,” you pause to return to your mind and continue, with full realization of the firewood you’re stacking around yourself. “You’re always such a bright person, but its okay to just feel like crap some days. It’s alright; everyone does it.”

The earnestness in Jisung’s eyes pierces you and his voice almost begs, “I am? Do you do it too?”

Cautiously, you nod, ignoring the hope in Jisung’s eyes.

The walk back to your dorm is filled with Jisung’s soft voice telling you about his worries and struggles. Its almost like you can feel your heart rotting because you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. You want him to shut up and just moan prettily for you but you can’t and he won’t.

His breath is warm on your neck as he sucks slowly, bruising your skin. His fingers are gentle as he caresses your body. His eyes are earnest and vulnerable as he gazes down at you. You feel like shit because of it.

The only reason you became friends with Jisung was to alleviate the guilt you had from being too cruel to him. The only reason you started fooling around with Jisung is because you were comfortable with him. And now look, you’ve made it full circle and the guilt in your chest has multiplied hundred fold. You tell yourself that you’ll tell him to shut up the next time he tries talking to you about his problems. That seems to satisfy you, if only for the moment, as your eyes close and your ears listen to Jisung’s steady heartbeat. When the fall semester starts, so do the parties. Though you hate crowds, when it comes to hundreds of drunk people, you don’t seem to mind it. Jisung does, though so you always leave him behind to go. Though you haven’t told Jisung to shut up yet, you have skillfully maneuvered the topics of your conversations to light things. Undoubtedly, Jisung has noticed and his eyes are clouded with slight caution when he brings up those topics. It makes your heart hurt. Again. It seems that no matter what you do, it’ll always do that.

Except now. Your brain is just a little bit foggy and maybe that’s why the darkly clad stranger approaching you seems all the more enticing. He has pretty eyes, a sharp nose, and muscled thighs which strain against the dark fabric of his pants. In a little bit, you hope that won’t be the only thing straining in his pants. He notices your gaze and smirks, “Your gaze is a bit obvious, no?”

Licking your lips you take in his beautiful face, “I don’t like running around when I know what I want.”

Amusement lights up his eyes and he leans closer to you till your nose is filled with his fresh, expensive smell. He is dark, cocky, and unbelievably sexy. Especially when he lifts his eyebrow, asking, “What is it you want, princess?”

“Tell me your name and then you’ll find out.” Minho’s lips ravish your chest, sucking and biting furiously. Throws you on his bed, you swear that you drench your panties just from being manhandled. Putting on a show, he strips, flaunting his broad chest and shoulders. But you’re still waiting for the best part. Almost drooling, you’re in a trance as he takes off his pants, putting his wondrous thighs on display. “You seem to have a thing for my thighs, princess. Wanna ride them?”

You nod eagerly, rushing to rid yourself of your much too tight dress. After settling down at the top the bed, his eyebrow lifts, a smirk dancing on his lips, “No panties?” Clambering on top of him, you shake your head quickly. Your hands clutch onto his firm shoulders as you lower your hot, drenched core onto his thigh slowly. The contact has you gasping and Minho teases, “Baby, you’re so wet and I haven’t even done anything.”

Whining, you begin moving your hips up and down his muscled thigh, loving how firm it is against your core. Your slick coats his thigh and you gasp when his warm finger starts rubbing your clit. The sensation is overwhelming and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. When he starts flexing his thigh in tempo with your movement, you bite your tongue to stop from crying out. He slaps your ass harshly, “Make as much noise as you can, princess. It’s just us in my apartment.”

With his permission you let out a long, needy moan, trying to quicken your pace. Your thighs are burning but you try to chase your high as frantically as you can. “I-I can’t, Minho,” you let out weakly, your stomach uncoiling as your movements slow. He grabs you and flips you over, shoving his thick cock into you suddenly. The stretch has you moaning in a mess but the way he rolls his hips onto you has your toes curling. The pace he sets is inhuman, his thrusts are sharp and hard, causing your eyes to roll back. He hits your g-spot and you let out a scream, clutching onto his shoulders as he mercilessly continues in that very spot. Your approaching way faster than you ever have in the past and clench around Minho. He curses, leaning down to bite hickeys on your neck. “You close, princess?” He asks breathlessly, sweat glistening on his forehead. Eyes squeezing shut, you nod as he slides his hands under your ass, getting a tighter angle that has him groaning.

Gasping, “I-I’m gonna cum!” You grip the sheets as he thrust deep into you. Your high crashes over you like a truck and he cums into the condom, moaning loudly before collapsing next to you, panting.

He snores softly next to you, his arm slung over your shoulders. Cautiously, you slip out of his grip and gather your clothes from his floor, trying to ignore the soreness in your legs. Based on how still he is, you expect him to not wake up anytime soon, so you quietly slip out of his apartment, making sure to lock the door behind you.

What you do not expect is to have a very angry Jisung waiting for you when you open your dorm door. “Where the fuck have you been, Y/n?” He accuses, his frown deep and voice loud. Your first instinct is to apologize, but you’re so jaded that you just deadpan, “Why are you in my dorm. Its late.”

He blocks your path as you try to return to your bed, “Yeah no shit its late. I’ve been waiting here since you left for that fucking party!”

“I didn’t ask you to.” You respond, pushing him aside to change into your pajamas.

Jisung scoffs, “What’s your excuse for being out at 4 in the morning?” Irritation starts to clench in your chest and you throw your dress on the floor next to his feet. “I don’t need to give you a fucking excuse, Jisung.”

He furrows his eyebrows, still trying to figure out what kind of party lasts till 4 am. Even before guilt starts to form in your stomach, Jisung’s face drops, his hands hanging limply at his sides.

“You were fucking someone?”

Once again, you shove away your guilt, reminding yourself that you don’t belong to Jisung. “Yeah, I was. I rode his thigh and he fucked me good. Are you happy now? Will you leave me alone now?” Though you’re referring to just Jisung’s questions, you have a feeling that you’re implying something else.

His voice is quiet and filled with disbelief, “Why didn’t…why didn’t you call me?” His eyes are wide and their earnestness makes you want to puke. “Y/n, why didn’t you call me? I’ve been here this entire time!”

Face him fully, “You’re not the only dude I can fuck, okay Jisung? I don’t always want to be caressed carefully or kissed softly! Just get off my back about this because I didn’t ask you to be there for me in any of this!”

His voice is loud, it rings in your ears, “So you go sleep with a guy you met at a party? Who the fuck are you, Y/n? Before, you wouldn’t even let me—”

“I don’t fucking care!” You yell back at him, throwing your hands up, “You can’t fucking judge me because you’re just like him.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His face screws up in confusion as the realization of something that you were wishing not to realize crashes over you. A moment of silence passes as your brain tries to fumble for something to respond with but Jisung’s empty voice says, “So you just wanted my dick this whole time?”

You’re unable to meet his gaze, staring intently at his pink socks. He takes a step back and you want to reach out. You want to pull him close and tell him, no, you want so much more with him but you’re just scared so you don’t.

Jisung nod slowly, his jaw flexing to stop his lips from quivering. “You could have at least told me you thought of me only as something to fuck and not a person beforehand.”

You mind screams at you to tell him that you don’t see him that way, that you truly do care for him as a person but you can’t. Have any of your actions said that you cared for him at all? You’re just like the person who hurt you in the beginning. Manipulative and selfish.

“Have fun with a guy who sees you as a toy. The same way that you see him.” The venom in Jisung’s voice turns your gut cold and you crumple onto your bed when he slams the door closed.

#han jisung #jisung #skz #stray kids #han jisung imagine #han jisung smut #han jisung angst #minho smut #jisung smut #jisung imagine #jisung angst #skz imagine #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids angst #stray kids hard hours #stray kids dark hours #skz hard hours #jisung hard hours #han jisung hard hours #bangchan #changbin #hyunjin #felix #seungmin #jeongin #minho

[mdzs-headcannons]

I loved how u answered the angry grape appreciation request😂 so why not spice it up a bit?: a fem.s/o having clandestine meetings with the ever so high-strung Sandu Shengshou?

(Featuring a confused and laughing WWX discovering them)

Oooo, I don’t think we’ve done spicy before! JC is getting all the asks lately lol it’s been great! I hope you enjoy this one:)

Jiang Cheng’s (surprisingly good) love adventure!

Here’s the thing. Jiang Cheng doesn’t really do “secrets”. They’ve fucked up his life enough, and if you don’t have to remember a lie then it’s that much easier to get shit done. He tends to be upfront about most things. Yes, he does make a point to punish demonic cultivators. No, he didn’t threaten to cut out Sect Leader Yao’s tongue (though sometimes he’s considered it). No, Wei Wuxian is currently not to be allowed in Lotus Pier aside from accompanying for sect business. Yes, Jin Ling definitely has his support now that he’s sect leader for Jin Sect.

He’s a pretty open guy. Except for one itty bitty point.

Gods and demons alike forbid that Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin, Sandu ShengShou ever have to go through the mortifying ordeal of talking about his feelings. He doesn’t do it. He never has, he doubts he ever will. He keeps it all bottled up, wrapped tight around a core that isn’t his, and he’s going to keep it right there, and then one day he’ll die.

Or well, that was the plan.

But then there was...well... her. And she was great! She was kind, and bright, and brilliant, matching him wit for wit and step for step. And for whatever reason she didn’t seem put off by his scowl, and... well he didn’t really plan it, but it happened. Now they’re meeting a couple nights a week out in their pavilion (which no one knows is theirs but them) and there’s... touching. And kissing... very good kissing, not that he’s had much fucking practice but damn. It leaves his chest all achy and his fingertips jittery, and Zidian hums on his finger and makes her laugh. Gods he loves her laugh.

But... but they don’t talk about it. When he sees her in the courtyards, or coming in from wherever, he’s as formal as he is with everyone else. She makes no move towards him and he acts likewise. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to- gods he wants to- but for each person that knows, that’s another leak. Another mouth to be wary of telling.

He isn’t ashamed of what they’ve done. He knows how he feels, and he knows she deserves every ounce of anything good he could possibly give her. He’d ask for her hand if he didn’t think it would strike her with whatever curse haunted him. But it seems like everyone he’s ever let in to his life, really let in, ends up dead or choosing something or someone else over him.

So he doesn’t say anything. It can’t hurt him if he doesn’t admit that it’s real.

But that doesn’t work out either.

They’re in their pavilion, he’s come up behind her and kissed her shoulder in greeting like he always does, but she hasn’t turned to greet him back. He shifts away, leaning against the railing next to her, and watches as she looks over the pond with a faraway gaze. That smile he loves so much is nowhere to be seen.

“Do you ever wish...” she starts quietly. “That there was...more? Than this?”

...this is it. He knows it, and it leaves him stiffening in an instant. He’s familiar enough to know when she’s avoiding something. He knows... she’s finally realized that’s she’s worth more than this, she’s found someone better, she’s realized he’s broken and jagged, she’s going to leave him, he’s going to be alone again and-

And gods he was a fucking idiot to think that not telling her he loves her would make this hurt any less.

“I don’t know what-“ she starts before shaking her head and starting over. “I am grateful for the time we get to spend together like this. I know you are a busy man. But... I... I wish for more, Wanyin. I don’t want to feel like we’re hiding... whatever this is.”

“...” He is silent for a long moment, his brain struggling to catch up. “You... you are not afraid to be seen with me?”

She looks at him, her gaze sharpening. “If I didn’t want to be seen with you, do you think I would be here at all?”

And he’s not sure who moves first, but it’s like a dam breaks and they’re kissing, like always, but it feels like more because she wants him, not just like this but him- the person. Jiang Wanyin. In spite of his imperfections.

“You’re sure?” He asks against her lips as she sneaks a finger into his lapels and his hands settle on her waist. “You won’t change your mind?”

“I love you, you fool,” she murmurs back, and now her hand is all the way inside, pressed against the warm skin over his thudding heart. “You’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me now.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t talk about his feelings. He just kisses her harder and hopes it comes across in translation.

“Aiya! Jiang Cheng don’t you know good leaders should be resting at this hour? If you were up you could have come to greet me and Lan Zhaaaaand oh my god what are you two doing???!”

Jiang Cheng flails and trips back into the railing with a loud curse. Who the FUCK let Wei Wuxian back here? The Lans weren’t even supposed to show up until tomorrow!

His sort-of-brother is looking at him with eyes the size of the moon, gaping like a fish as he flicks between the two of them before letting out a strained laugh and turning away while he gets up to fix his robes. “Cheng Cheng, and you call me shameless! Kissing this maiden out here like that!”

“We’re in my private fucking quarter, I’ll kiss her however and wherever the fuck she wants!” He growls back, Zidian sparking even as she blushes and chuckles next to him. “Unlike you and your husband, jabbing out each other’s tonsils whenever you damn well feel like it!”

“Looks like you’ve discovered how fun that can be Cheng Cheng,” Wei Wuxian laughs, yelping when a snatched lotus pod pings him in the back of the head with a yell of “stop calling me that!”

He’s got to chase his personal chaos gremlin the fuck out of his private wing and back to its spouse, so they don’t get to follow their usual routine that night, but it’s ok.

After all... She loves him.

#team sandu shengshou #is this spicy? I can’t tell. #there’s touching but ultimately I’m a fool for FEELINGS #I will make JC Experience Emotions and no one can Stop Me. #wwx the Chaos Gremlin #Jiang Cheng... ficlet? #is that what we’re callin these?? #idk #jiang wanyin #jiang cheng #sect leader jiang #wei wuxian #wei ying #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs headcannons #mdzs asks #mdzs blog #the untamed blog #the untamed asks

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 7

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as they think...

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror

CW: leg injury, knife whump, 

---

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE GODS OF JUST AND UNJUST MEN

        The man keeled over just as the darkness had engulfed him and the sensation of ground had returned beneath his feet. Ragged and shaking, he cried out in agony, clutching his right leg that poured deep crimson blood staining his fingers. A soft blue light emanated from a tunnel above his head, showering him in a beckoning glow.

       Beside him, a woman formed from the drifting darkness of the abyss. Her black hair was pulled off to one side in multitudes of smooth braids that reached her hips. She knelt down in her simple white linen gown, and touched the man on the shoulder. He stared up at her, his face soaked with more tears than rain or sweat.

        “Th-They don’t… They don’t remember me,” he stammered shakily.

        The Goddess hushed him softly, and brought her hand down to the knife handle. She met his gaze, and searched his green eyes. He became lost in her mesmerizing essence and in one swift motion, she pulled the knife out of his thigh.

        He launched onto his back, roiling in the unfathomable release of pressure in his leg. He was screaming, but the void consumed his cries until the very end.

        “I gather you were unable to kill him?”

        She had waited for him to stop screaming before tossing the knife down in a clatter by his head.

        The man still laid on his back, caring not for the wound that was bleeding out with fearsome speed. His lower lip quivered and he closed his eyes.

        “No,” he answered through gritted teeth. “He… He was in a meeting.”

        The woman breathed out the last of her hope and stood over him, shaking her head.

        “We don’t like excuses,” she expressed, circling him. “Lyrem is only a man, and Hades wants results. If you don’t deliver, then you don’t get to stay on Earth. Running away with another human is not what we asked of you, was it?”

        He shook his head, wiping a hand over his face like he was shielding himself from the rays of her shame.

        “Next time,” he said. Forcing himself to sit up, he looked at her squarely, and turned his face to stone to address the Goddess as she ought to be. “I’ll get him next time. Persephone, please send me back- I”-

        “No.”

        He forced on, “I’ll get him this time, I swear”-

        “Ar”-

        “SEND ME BACK!”

         This time, his voice carried farther through the void and then it echoed back to them. He lowered his voice reactively, sensing that he had done something severely improper.

        “Please… Send me back.”

        Seeing his emotionally fragile form was endearing as well as tremendously unsettling. Persephone lowered herself to him as he laid there, barely supported by his one elbow. Huffing, she laid a hand against his leg. He stared into her perfectly dark eyes, trusting her once more with great effort.

        “I can heal you partially,” she offered, “And with a bit of time, I’ll be able to send you back.”

        “Don’t bother healing me if you can send me back now.” He argued, “Lyrem has Arch”-

        “If I don’t heal you, you’ll bleed out and return here within minutes. And you will be of no use to us then. You’re a mortal, remember; dancing between worlds of life and death.” Persephone explained. Gently, she cupped his cheek with a soft, sympathetic hand.  “The rules were never written for someone like you.”

        He tore himself away from her grip, and gulped down the last option that he was given. He took some time, considering her words with the reverence that one would give to a wise crone.

        “I don’t know how long they… Fine,” he finally agreed.

        Arguing with Gods and Goddesses alike wasn’t a normal habit for him- but for now, he would take what he could get.

       “But I promise you… I promise Hades… I will kill Lyrem. I’ll do it, no matter what it takes. I’ll deliver his head to you on a fucking silver plate if it means I can go back to my old life.”

        “Usually, I would advise against making promises you cannot keep,” the darkness called through, washing over him. It was the voice of the Underworld; of Hades Himself. He could not be witnessed in the dark abyss, where only the dead contained the sight to see the God in His glory. The voice carried on, shaking the injured mortal to his very core as it rumbled through him like a thunder.

        “But with you… I am willing to believe that there may be some hope for us all.”

        Persephone blinked slowly; the words of Hades filling her soul like she had taken a breath of fresh morning air. She looked down to the human, allowing a small smile to sneak its way onto her face, as his filled with cautious determination.

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

          “I think I like them.”

        Lyrem looked up from his two fingers of scotch whisky and smiled to the man sitting across from him in a matching orange armchair by Mystics’ storefront window. The lights of evening downtown glowed inwards, as the two of them caught up with each other. Lyrem had finished his story of the strange and annoying priest at the hospital- and the terrible treatment that his charge, Arch was receiving there.

        “I thought you might,” Lyrem replied. “I’ve primed Arch with talents they’ll be able to carry forward for years and years to come.”

        “And yet, you still cannot trust them to keep their memories.”

        There was a twinkle in the dark eyes of his guest. Everything from his squared off top hat to his jacket and to his bejeweled cane spoke of decadence and divine tailoring. He smoothed his long black beard down to its tip with long fingers, studying his friend and regular supplier with great interest as he took his time with his response.

        “I cannot be certain that they will follow me.” Lyrem admitted, taking a sip from the glass tumbler that sat in his right hand. “They are so connected with people… with life… How can one twist a mind that pure?”

        “All that purity, it ends somewhere. Everyone has their limits. Goodness leaves us all in the dust eventually and your successor cannot be someone with sentimental ties. One day, even you will have to leave them behind.” The man’s pinky finger danced in the air as he raised his own glass. “Since you know, the Devil always comes to collect on her debts.”

        Lyrem grunted rudely at the reminder.

        “Any word on when that might be?” Lyrem asked with deepening interest in his tired face, “I know you have an ear to the abyss, Paimon. You can tell me.”

        Paimon merely chuckled, and clicked his fingers. The record player began to set itself up, playing the tunes that were primed to go. The album was something picked out by Arch from the record store across town several weeks ago after they had grown tired of John Denver.

           I wouldn’t want to be a chimney sweep,

          All black from head to foot,

         From climbing in them chimneys,

         And cleaning out that soot…

        “Just enjoy life, Lyrem- while you still can,” Paimon winked as he finished his glass and clunked it down. “Throw out your stoic wisdom, already, and prepare your charge for when you’re finally dead. That’s my advice.”

        Sensing that Paimon was on his way out, Lyrem stopped him. 

        “One more thing... I suspect that a particular captive of mine has found a way out of the Labyrinth in the back room. There are no… other doorways that you neglected to mention when I purchased it off of you, are there?”

        “I am leasing it to you, Lyrem.” Paimon corrected him with a shake of his head in pity. “Like all rental properties, sometimes renovations are necessary.”

         Lyrem scoffed at his flippant response. But before he could say anything else, the demon had vanished from his chair.

         “At least give me a bloody notice first,” Lyrem muttered to himself before finishing his glass with a final swallow. Only the melody would keep him company now.

         The honey from the bee,

        The shellfish from the sea,

        The earth, the wind, a girl,

        Someone to share these things with-

        Lyrem switched off the record abruptly and then picked up the empty glasses left on the corner table. Paimon’s words rang in his head as though they were warning him. He had been sensing for quite sometime that Hekate had grown impatient with his antics. He had been given many gifts from the underworld’s many inhabitants in his short time on Earth, and as a result owed many debts; some debts simply would not be repaid in the bones of ancient Mayan sacrifices- though sometimes they did make thoughtful gifts.

        Demons and divine spirits, Gods and Goddesses alike, all had some opinion on Lyrem Nomadus. At one time or another he had procured an item or two for almost all of them- whether it was something as frivolous as an original Da Vinci sketch or as dark as a human heart for ritual consumption. Whether they had a fair opinion of the man, or a sour one, they would all agree that for a human, he was really rather quite useful and would go the extra mile to make them happy as long as he was paid in full with their favors.

        Lyrem was well aware that those days of retrieval and dealing were long past him now. His age was beginning to show in all the worst ways. Sentimentality becoming the latest of wrinkles in his pallid complexion. The first wrinkle of which was when he had removed memories from Maria, his one and only love, so that she could be happy living out the rest of her life with a normal human. Meeting Arch, and the strong connection that they had grown, was just another one of the latest displays of his sentimental nature. The visit from his old friend this night yet again, a reminder that his good work would soon be coming to an end.

        Lyrem had to be sure that Arch was prepared by any means necessary. This meant there could not be room for distractions. There was no room for failure. If Arch was unable to make use of the gift they were given, then they would die before they even started.

        “What now?” Paimon returned, sensing Lyrem call for him in short thoughts. The demon stood, leaning against his cane by the door, regarding Lyrem with a tired interest.

        “I have an idea,” Lyrem postulated, placing the tumblers on the counter as he paced the store’s sale floor. “-but I will need your help to locate a shape-shifter.”

        Paimon perked his head higher, as Lyrem continued hesitantly.

        “One, preferably, that is extraordinarily good at acting.”

        Paimon’s lips curled as his eyes danced with amusement, and nodded.

        “I’m always willing to help out an old friend,” he smiled.

#Hades and persephone are popular #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #writing #creative writing #Mystics by Alpaca #Alpaca writes #writing blog #demons #gods #hades #paimon #persephone #lyrem #the man doesn't have a name yet #but he will get one eventually #mystics #is anybody getting the music reference? #there are many more #I love references apparently

[warmau]

Professor!AU Johnny

shout out to the person who asked me to continue this on kofi!  tw: mentions of heartbreak, general angst but it’s still a warmau au so you know it’ll end up ok 

“just forget me like im trying to forget you!” 

the first thing people realize about their new professor is that he’s tall 

and that for such a handsome, young looking guy

he dresses like a grandpa

we’re talking knitted sweater vests and corduroy pants

wood brimmed glasses and shiny oxfords

but none of that matters, because by the end of the first class most people know that it’s going to be a fun semester 

because professor suh ,,,,,,,,,,,, is a goofball

prof. suh teaches introduction to film studies, it’s a core class that all film majors have to take

and if anyone is passionate about films ,,,, well you haven’t met johnny

he especially likes to rave about likes of brian de palma, john carpenter and william friedkin

the 70s horror wave is kinda his jam,,,,,,

also love documentaries and if you were to pluck his headphones (never in his life will he spend money on airpods) off his head you’d probably hear a fleetwood mac album resounding through them

even though,,,,,,this guy is barely even thirty,,,,,,

but anyway back to the fact: 

johnny is the funniest and cornball-est professor there is

in the sweetest kind of way

he’ll go out of his way to organize movie viewings on the quad

ask students to come up to the front of the class and act out a favorite scene of their’s

even bring in his black lab puppy to class and be like 

“if you handed in your essay on time - you can give jordan a pet”

totally got called in with the dean to discuss smuggling animals onto campus and johnny was just like hey,,,,,it worked. no one submitted their essay in late

you can tell he really loves teaching and he really loves film, he just gets so animated when he talks

pointing at his slideshows, rocking excitedly back and forth on his heels when a student gives a deep and insightful comment on a directors work

the absolute look of pride on his face when students present their final projects 

and he can tell they enjoyed their time working on it

got featured in the university newspaper because he wore one of those newsboy caps

and the caption was: film department fashionista professor ~

johnny got a good laugh out of it

but drama professor ten INSISTED the newspaper do a cover on him too 

because johnny? fashion? no,,,,,,,if you wanted fashion, looks, serves then you had to come to him

ten’s assistant professor hendery: all you do is wear black

ten: shuttup i have a masters degree

johnny is friends with all the other professors, no matter the department or the area of interest

he’s on great terms with the engineering departments heartthrob taeyong, the studious physics department head kun, and even the coach for the uni football team jaehyun

he’s basically irresistible - he’s a positivity magnet 

and everyone wants to befriend him

or date him

(several times he’s had to politely refuse advances from students and faculty alike - though the one time a love letter found its way onto his desk he really just,,,,couldn’t find it in his heart to throw it out)

basically the entire campus has a crush, platonic or not 

and everyone just cannot fathom how professor suh is single

“he is suuuuuuch a catch”

you overhear, while pouring yourself some coffee and trying to remember if you sent out the right links for the homework yesterday

“i know, i heard he’s finally interested in dating again.”

“he wasn’t before?”

one of the teachers shrugs

“he just keep rejecting everyone - but there was a rumor of him going around with someone last week-”

you don’t really care for the rest of the conversation

because you know it’s blatantly untrue

you were the person who had been with johnny last week

all you’d done is meet up to discuss a possible group project between your students

nothing more, nothing less

you’d only recently gotten a job at the university teaching in the history department

and johnny had been kind to you since day one

talking to you on campus when you’d bumped into each other, giving you a little rundown of where to find what and who professors could go to in case of emergencies

he’d been bright and welcoming and just like anyone else

you liked him, not in a romantic way or anything - you just could tell he was a good person right off the bat 

after a couple of days you’d run into him after a mandatory meeting for professors 

and you had brought up the fact that you were going to be doing a class on the 70s and johnny had excitedly offered that your class join his for a viewing of the ‘79 film version of ‘mad max’

you’d talked about it over coffee at the campus cafeteria, and to your surprise it had gotten blown out of the water

several people, including students, had asked you about it 

‘are you into him?’

‘you know faculty aren’t allowed to date right?’

‘didn’t you just get here - you should probably slow down...’

more than anything, you were surprised at how everyone thought they had the right to pry into his business

and it had made you wonder 

maybe johnny is too nice for his own good

but either way - you didn’t want to get stuck in any of this drama

keeping this job was your priority, falling in love? you hadn’t thought about it since college

the work day dwindles down, you teach your last class and barely have a chance to let them know about their projects as they all rush out of the door when the period ends

you take a little time putting your things together when you hear the door open

thinking it’s a student, you get ready to see if they have any questions

but instead you see johnny in the doorway

a beige cardigan thrown over his button up shirt and dad fitting jeans

“ah! looks like my students were right - this is your classroom.”

you give a little smile, but ask why he’s ultimately here

johnny doesn’t answer for a second, he looks like he’s collecting himself 

“i just wanted to make sure you’re ok, there have been some rumors floating around and -”

you’re reminded of the dozen or so comments you’ve gotten and the whispering of the other professors and ta’s in the lounge this morning

“oh, i’m ok. i keep telling everyone they’ve taken it the wrong way.”

johnny’s smile softens

“im sorry to cause you so much trouble when this is your first semester teaching here.”

you put a hand up and shake your head, not noticing the way johnny ‘s eyes dull just a bit 

“don’t worry. everyone will know it was simply school stuff when we have the shared class.”

he agrees with a small nod and you think that’s the end of it

when suddenly he walks over and helps collect some of the heavy books on your desk

“let me carry these.”

“oh you don-”

“please?”

his smile curls up at the corners, the gentle plead leaves you incapable of saying no

and so you watch him gather up the books in his arms and you walk out behind him

yeah, i think he is too kind for his own good.

you and johnny plan to merge your classes on thursday

instead of meeting up, you simply email each other about the arrangements

and everyone seems to forget about the momentary rumor that you and him are anything more than co-workers

but still, even through emails, johnny is charming and sweet

you start to question it too

hovering over his profile picture on the email, the empty ring finger and the way you hear stories everyday about confessions turned down by the film professor

thursday finally rolls around and all the students are beyond happy to be watching a movie rather than doing classwork

johnny cracks jokes about the film while you set up the projector, you get a little jealous seeing how engaging your students are with him

when sometimes you can’t even get them to say a word

he’s a great person and a great teacher, it’s like he was made for this profession 

you muse, before catching yourself mid thought, embarrassed to be thinking about johnny when you’re in the middle of a class

when everything is good to go, johnny gives you a thumbs up and all the student inch forward in their seats as the opening scene plays

you and johnny move toward the back of the room

where he leans up against the wall and you switch the lights off before catching his side profile in the corner of your eye

he’s handsome, it’s undeniable 

but looks are only surface deep, so you wonder if someone so beautiful could also be so kind and caring

johnny turns and you want to pretend you weren’t looking, but it’s too late

the sides of his lips curl up into a smile and he tilts his head, black hair parted perfectly around the frame of his handsome face

“have you seen this movie before?”

he asks in a low voice

“n-no”

“ah, well if you look at the setting the director makes sure to-”

the buzzing of his phone stops him and he excuses him from the room

you think it must be a call from a friend, maybe an appointment reminder 

but when johnny doesn’t come back for almost an hour - you start to worry

half of the class is trying to pretend they’re not on their phones while the other half is engrossed in the film

so you make a quick decision to leave the room for a second and find where he’s gone off too

“no, i don’t want to see you again.”

the voice makes you stop in your tracks

that,,,,,,,,sounds like johnny,,,,,,but,,,,,,,harsher?

“i don’t think you understand what you did to me. do you think i can forgive you? do you really think -”

he’s talking faster, but the pitch is higher 

“stop, i don’t want to hear it. you chose him, you chose him when you slept with him in our bed!”

you freeze, feeling your blood go cold

this isn’t a conversation i should be hearing ,,,,, 

you swallow and want to start backing away, but for some reason your feet are planted

refusing to let you leave

“no, no - just forget me like im trying to forget you!”

at just the right moment, your senses kick in and you manage to turn yourself around and back toward the classroom door

when you step inside, you get spared some glances but the action scene on the screen awards you a clean entrance

you go back to your spot, arms crossed over your chest

was he talking to his ex? it sounded like it,,,,,,but his voice,,,,,

he sounded so broken

johnny doesn’t come back for another couple of minutes

when he does, he enters the room and gives a little smile to students who giggle his way

he sees you and the smile widens  

but you can’t smile back

his voice, the pain you felt in every syllable - they make this happy johnny in front of you feel fake

thankfully the ending credits save you from having to make awkward conversation

you and johnny move toward the front of the room and as you shut down the projector you hear him talking with the students

the same pep, cheer, and happiness that’s always there 

seems duller

or maybe it’s only you who hears the small change 

the rest of the students are reacting and chatting with him as they normally would

and when johnny turns and asks if you want to say anything

you let your students know about their projects, a wave of groans passing through the sea of bodies

you and johnny let the class out a little early, you sort of panic because you think being alone with him will somehow be weird

so you make up an excuse about having coffee with professor ten

you dash through the door, leaving a confused johnny behind and make way for cover in your office

im an adult, why am i acting like some kid who just almost got caught with a secret?!

you reprimand yourself, but still you don’t feel like it would have been a great idea to stay around and chat

like what would you say to him? especially after hearing him ,,,,,, like that

you take cover in your office, closing the door and setting yourself behind your desk

you distract yourself grading some in-class work when your phone lights up with a notification

you think it’s a faculty email so you open it up without another thought

when you see johnny’s names

‘thanks for letting me show the movie to your class! i hope everything is ok, you seemed a little distressed. did professor ten do something to you - let me know~’

the signature on the email is the same one all teachers use in their school emails

you want to answer because you feel bad knowing he’s worried

but at the same time you feel awkward now

am i the only one who knows about his ex? no one has ever brought it up before.......

you pick up your phone and hit reply, but instead of typing anything you just stare at it

whatever, it’s not my business. let’s just forget what i heard and move on.

you lock the screen and go back to grading

the time passes and a couple of days later you find yourself so busy with your classes projects that nothing else manages to cross your mind

you’re rushing down campus with a couple of large display boards when you almost crash head first into someone

“oh sorry - i can’t see over these-”

“here, let me help.”

johnny’s voice reaches you first and then you feel the boards being lifted from your hands

with his tall stature, they look smaller than before

he pouts when you make eye contact and goes

“you never answered my email! are you ok?”

it takes you a second to remember what he’s talking about, but when you do you just make up another excuse

“oh i sent it, maybe it didn’t go through?”

“maybe, you know all the students use up the school wifi.”

you laugh with him and for that split moment it feels like everything is normal

you’re just two coworkers, two friends

but then

“no, no - just forget me like im trying to forget you!”

the words close in on and you abruptly feel the calmness of your situation turn into dread

“i can carry those-”

you start, trying to get away from johnny again, but he simply refuses to let them go

“what room are you in, let me help you.”

you want to insist that you can do it yourself, but panicking you just blurt the number out

you both start your way toward the building and johnny makes casual conversation

but the words you’d overheard nearly overshadow everything he says

why do i care so much? why is it bothering me?

you groan and johnny suddenly asks what’s wrong

you can’t take the feeling and you grab the board back

“sorry - just forgot i need um markers, i have to go!”

your excuse is utter bullshit, you’re sure johnny doesn’t believe you 

but you don’t like the sinking feeling you get around him and so you disappear again and johnny almost calls out 

but even if he did, you wouldn’t hear him over the pained memory of that phone call

at some point you start avoiding him

or at least avoid any contact with him

you don’t want to seem rude, so you just go out of your way to be in any place that he’s not

so he can’t ask you about it and so you don’t have to be faced with knowing that the happy character he plays

isn’t all that happy

you think that’s what bothers you most - the fact that everyone else sees him as this 

positive light, cutely dressed in sweaters over button downs and oxfords

adjusting the glasses on his nose as he flips through a script submitted in one of his classes

but now you just see the pain - the cracking voice - just the visualization of johnny walking into a room

and being faced with something so heartbreakingly cruel that to this day he’s shunned away affection

no wonder he rejects just about anyone - maybe he just can’t trust someone like that again?

“excuse me, can you tell me where the film department is?”

you startle, looking up to see an unfamiliar face

the individual smiles, apologizing politely for scaring you before explaining that they need to see one of the film professors

you have a couple of minutes to spare and even though you don’t want to go to that building 

because of the off chance of bumping into professor suh

you still feel like you can’t just give this person vague directions

so you take the chance and tell them you’ll walk them over

they don’t say much, so you assume they’re either a transfer student or maybe a visiting professor

you swipe your id card to get through the entrance of the building and hold the door open for them to step through behind you

they’re rather plain, you’re not struck by anything about them - just that they’re neat and very mannered

so you don’t expect that once you get off the elevator and lead them into the professor’s lounge 

that their demeanor to change as drastically as it does

because the moment they set eyes on johnny

who you didn’t even notice in the corner 

they lose their posed attitude and run at him with open arms

your confusion is apparent, is this his relative? they don’t look at all like him-

but then it dawns on you

because johnny’s eyes turn cold and his lips thin out into a straight line

“what are you doing here?”

he asks and the tone of voice sets a tension in the room that’s nearly suffocating

“john - don’t be like this! you were so mean on the phone and i thought in person you’d be -”

“you need to leave.”

he’s merciless, motioning to the door with his head 

and catching a glimpse of you, frozen in the corner with shock

the pit of your stomach churns

is that,,,,,,,,,,are they,,,,,,,,,,,,,,his ex?

“oh c’mon, you won’t even talk to me now? after everything we’ve been through? johnny love you know-”

even though his anger is nearly blazing off of him like an open flame

johnny touches them gently - his hands barely grazing their upper-arm as he starts to walk them over to the door

you want to escape, that or just plain disappear 

but you can’t move a muscle 

johnny is nearly two feet away when his ex jerks themselves away

“john - listen to me! you can’t just leave me like this! look - look at this - it’s the ring you got me, we’re still engaged! you can’t just -”

johnny seems to snap, the kindness and the happiness he exudes almost daily is no where to be found

he turns, broad shouldered and standing tall 

if you had never known any other side of him you would have found yourself frightened 

“that ring means one thing, it means you’re a cheater. im sick and fucking tired of you thinking i will ever take you back - get out of my life for good.”

the cursing sounds unnatural in your ears, everything about this johnny is off

he’s harsh and sharp and his energy is just pitch black

but at the same time you can’t blame him

this person has some kind of chip on their shoulder about hurting him and thinking they’ll get off scottfree

it even stirs up an anger in you as well

johnny turns and with one glance you can tell that the rough, pissed off expression on his face is going to turn into devastation 

you don’t want him to breakdown in front of this person so you decide to do something you know you’ll probably come to regret

you intervene, stepping in front of johnny and giving him the fakest smile you can

“oh professor suh did you remember we have papers to grade together, come with me!”

you reach out and touch his wrist, his skin is hot and you tug him out of the room

his ex makes a move toward the door, but you nudge johnny forward and then take the chance to slam the door shut in their face

the sound echoing through the halls and earning you questionable looks on all sides

but you don’t care 

you know johnny needs to go somewhere and be alone and you find that place in the fire escape staircase

dingy and old, but free of students and pesky exes

when you find yourself in the small, dark area you realize you should excuse yourself

and let him maul over the many emotions he must be feeling right now

but when you turn to go, you hear his deep voice softly ask you to stay

he sits down on the steps, large hands cradling his head 

“why can’t they leave me alone?”

“im sorry, i don’t know why.”

you say the only thing you can say even though it makes you feel terrible 

johnny shakes his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes and making it hard to read the expression on his face

although it’s not hard to assume that it’s pained

“you know, i was going to marry that person. i was going to walk down the aisle with someone who - who -”

johnny loses his words 

“who would betray you?”

you finish and he looks up, his eyes ringed red and bristling with haziness 

“yes.”

he chokes back a sound

“someone who doesn’t really love me.”

he shrinks, large shoulders closing in on themselves

you want to comfort him, but you’re not sure 

after all it isn’t as if you and him are particularly close

so you give a small bow as you mutter that you’ll leave him be for now, that he needs his space and you don’t want to invade it

but before you can turn around, johnny rises up off the steps and stops you

for a moment he’s just got a hand on your wrist, holding you in place - maybe he just needs someone to hear him out 

maybe he wants to thank you for getting rid of the person who hurt him so bad

but something twists in the pit of your stomach as he tugs you toward him

and you feel weightless, falling into his arms easily and fitting into the plane of his chest perfectly

“im sorry”

he apologizes, deep voice cracking

“im sorry - i just want to hold -”

you give a weak nod, knowing you should be the bigger person and step away from this 

he’s vulnerable, you’re the only one around, there isn’t any other reason for his actions

but a little voice in your head prods it says

maybe johnny actually trusts you! maybe you’ve made him feel like being open with someone is possible again!

but you refuse to fall into that trap 

johnny is handsome, kind, and didn’t deserve to be cheated on and scarred

and so it’s impossible that he’d ever find healing in you 

“can you close your eyes for a second?”

you freeze at the request - wanting to ask why, but somehow all you end up doing is letting your lashes flutter closed

“im sorry, im so sorr-”

johnny doesn’t even finish his sentence, he presses his lips to yours and you let out a sound of confusion

that he interprets as protest so he pulls away just as fast as he started and tries to stumble over another apology

when you just reach out with your hands and pull him back into you

i don’t care if im just a coping mechanism for him right now, just feeling his lips on mine for that moment - it’s obvious he’s missed affection. he needs this. im just being a good person.

no matter how you reason in your mind, your thoughts melt away when johnny’s hands wrap around your waist and his large body nearly envelops you whole

one hand finds the hem of your shirt - but hesitates and stays on your hip as you tilt your head and johnny groans when your teeth pull at his lip

he’s burning up, his skin gets hotter and hotter as the kiss gets deeper and deeper

and you feel your back against the wall - johnny placing his hands on the surface beside your head as he keeps himself from doing anything you might not want him to

but you’re at a point where you’re willing to take his own hand in yours and move it back onto your body

because johnny suh deserves to be loved and he deserves to have someone that’ll give themselves to him and only him 

and in this moment it’s you - and you want him to know that

“did you hear about the physics quiz for professor qian?”

two voices from below shatter the bubble around you and johnny

disconnecting from each other - you take in a breath and react faster than he can

you open the door to the stairs, scurrying out 

just in time for it to shut behind you as two students round the top stair and find professor suh alone 

staring at the door

they giggle, greeting him and he just nods, speechless and touching the curve of his lips 

“what the hell did i just do?”

you say to yourself, trying to fix your hair as you pass through the campus and back to the parking lot

you thankfully don’t have any classes to teach today so you just book it home and ignore the notifications that litter the screen of your phone

you feel like you’re in high school again - being a giant child about this sticky situation

but you just don’t know what to do now

why did you let yourselves get carried away like that? you work together for gods sake you’re going to have to see each other TOMORROW

you groan into your pillow 

you try to carefully deleting notifications from your work email that have johnny’s name in them

and only feeling worse when they pop up again

you accidentally press on one and it opens

it’s the same profile photo on the email icon, smiling, happy johnny

the same .edu email

everything is the same but the message

‘please don’t hate me’

you take in a breath, tap reply 

‘i don’t, but - what did that all mean?’

‘this isn’t something we should talk about over......’

‘yeah, let’s do it in person.’

 you gather up a bit of your courage and tell yourself it’s ok. mistakes happen, the air will clear up when you face each other

your students don’t notice that you’re jittery 

when you drop the pen you’re holding, they just keep typing away on their laptops

and for the first time as a professor, you’re happy to have no one paying attention to you

when the bell rings and you start walking toward the campus cafe where you’ll be meeting johnny

you feel a mixture of butterflies and sickening poison invade the inside of your stomach

he’s already there, sipping a coffee, wearing a ridiculously long sleeved cardigan and rounded glasses

a student greets him and he gives her the smile you’re so used to seeing

that the image of him curled up with tears on the brink of his eyes just doesn’t seem real anymore

but you saw it. you know you did.

you approach slowly and johnny seems to hesitate between getting up and staying in his seat

“do you want me to get you a coffee?”

he propositions, but you shake your head

“johnny - i mean, professor suh - i hope you know you don’t owe me anything.”

he had been drumming his fingers on his thigh, but he stops

“you don’t owe me any explanations about ,,,,,,,,,,,, that person or about the situation or about,,,,,,,,,,,, why what happened - happened. i just want us to be good colleagues,,,”

your voice trails off when the smile on his face isn’t showing up

it’s just a blank - long stare

“professor suh,,,,,,?”

“did you think i did what i did just because i feel lonely?”

you sit back and look around

“i-”

“you’ve got it wrong.”

he slips out of the chair and you think he’s about to just leave - but he’s thinking what you’re thinking

which is that you can’t talk about making out with each other when there are about one hundred students within earshot range

so you end up again in the stairwell, not the same one - but it’s the only private place on campus

and the second you’re alone, johnny chucks the cup over his shoulder and wraps his arms around you

your body is pressed, perfectly again, into the shape of his chest

“you’re not a rebound, or a coping mechanism, or any of those things.”

he mumbles, deep voice against the skin of your ear

“you’re the first person ive had an interest in in a long time - i just chose the wrong time to act on it.”

you think you’re making the words up in your head, but they’re really coming out of johnny’s mouth

“i know you said you want to be good colleagues, and i want that too. but outside of work i want-”

 you shift a little, arms coming up to embrace him back

really you’re not even thinking about it - your body just feels safe and comfortable

and it speaks for you as he pulls back 

to look at you with those almost amber like eyes

“i want something more - if you’re ok with it?”

you nod, lips parting a little as he leans in to kiss you again

there isn’t the same desperate, driven by pain feeling as there was yesterday

but it’s still loving and passionate

“but prof - johnny,,,”

you start against the skin of his cheek

and he slows down a little to hear you out

“if i see your ex on campus again, i wont be nice about it now.”

he chuckles

“don’t worry, you have my permission to do your worst.”

you both laugh over it - before kissing again and again and again

until his phone goes off and he picks it up and the head of the film department is frantically asking if he meant to be late to his class or if he got into another accident on his bike

“you bike to work?”

“yes - and ill be picking you up on my bike on our first date.”

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #yungho scenarios #yungho au #member: johnny #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 #johnny #uhhhhhhhhh htgrfhdskjl

[theatresweetheart]

Desperate Measures [ Finale ]

Fandoms: Sanders Sides, G/t

Warnings: Swearing, over-exhaustion, depressive thoughts, traumatic flashbacks, brief injury mention, fainting. (If I missed something, please let me know!)

Pairings: Romantic/Parental Logicality, Platonic Logince, Platonic TLAMP

Word Count: 2960 words

Taglist: @isle-of-gold @anonymous-bean @sandersships  @kaytikitty @picklesandbeyond @minty4green

Chapter Navigation: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Epilogue.

                                  +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

It was an odd scenario, he could say that, but to know that this was possibly his chance to get home was what was giving him peace.

Logan cleared his throat after a moment, gaining both Roman and Thomas’s attention again. “I must ask, how long will I be in your company? Even if you do plan to assist me in getting home.”

The two others shared a look, almost unsure of how to proceed from here. Looks like the plan hadn’t really been thought all the way out and Logan’s safety may have been the main priority.

He was…mildly flattered, to say the least.

“We were sort of leaving that up to you,” Thomas said, clasping his hands together, almost wringing them. “We’d be more than willing to host you. Help you replenish your strength and offer some rest and time to recuperate.”

They were offering to give him a safe—so far—place to stay the night? It was almost unheard of. The fact that they were being so kind as to allow him to stay without really knowing anything about.

For all they knew, Logan could be lying about having a family waiting for him.

While that wouldn’t really do him any good except get him unwanted pity, he hadn’t exactly given them a reason to doubt him.

Nor a reason to trust him, either.

If he were truly being honest with himself, he was exhausted. So much had been happening in these past months and Logan had hardly had a moment of peace to himself. There was always something happening, something to think about, someone to snark back at. Something to push or throw. Logan had spent a lot of his downtime during the night planning. He slept, yes, but there was always something greater to be doing.

Always something more.

Always trying to find a way to escape without creating too much of a stir.

He was exhausted from the long nights staying up, sleepless while trying to find another way to annoy the shopkeeper into letting him go. Into finally getting so fed up with his childish shenanigans that they would have opened the cage and let him find his way back home.

Logan had never been so lucky.

Not until now.

To find now that he could have peace of mind and possibly get some sleep that would replenish what little strength he had left. It was necessary. The longer he went without sleep, the worse off he would be, Logan had learned this from many all-nighters. Which never stopped him from pulling them. Never once did he stop. Not when he needed to do something.

While the other borrowers that had been in the cage with him had always been so willing to go to sleep at decent times of the night, Logan stayed up.

The young woman that had been with him a couple weeks prior had tried to soothe him. To get him to go and lay down with her, if not for the coupling, then for her own comfort. She had been uncomfortably touchy, especially when she was trying to get something from him.

He would be sitting by himself late into the night and suddenly her hands would appear on his shoulders—which had successfully startled him a few times—and she would let her hands rub into them, trying to ease the tension that he had built up over the months.

Logan had come to learn that women preferred when a male was around, as that stronger presence would make them feel safer.

While he had understood initially that having another person near you could comfort you in times of need, there were only two people that were able to comfort him. The young woman, as kind and naive as she had been, was not one of them.

“A night here would be appreciated,” Logan finally spoke his mind, shaking the unwanted thoughts away, his eyes glanced between Roman and the other borrower again, his weariness finally showing through the colder facade. The action was trusting and such an action truly revealed what Logan was underneath the indifferent mask; a young man that was tired of the world’s constant demeaning. A man that wanted nothing more than to get back home. “If it really isn’t too much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Roman’s voice was softer than it had been, “it would be no trouble at all. I can get some soft cloths together for you.” As the human moved to stand, he seemed to pause for a moment and reconsidered, offering a small—almost reassuring—grin over his shoulder. “I know this isn’t really ideal, for anyone really, but thank you for at least a little bit of your trust.”

And just like that, Roman left without giving Logan a chance to even register what he had said.

So, the bespectacled borrower stood there a moment looking like he wanted to formulate a coherent sentence. When that failed, he instead turned his attention to the other borrower, who had his hands tucked into his pockets comfortably.

“I know he can be a bit much but he means well,” Thomas spoke up, a soft look on his features. Understanding and trusting. “His heart really is in the right place.”

“How did you know I was in that pet shop?”

While the question may have seemed a bit brash and out of the blue, Logan couldn’t say that he wasn’t interested.

“I wasn’t there,” he said, offering a small shrug of his shoulders, taking the sudden question in stride. “I remember Roman coming back from classes one afternoon ranting about someone like me. He had been talking so fast that I hardly had time to really understand what he was talking about. For a bit there, I thought he had found someone.” He grinned, laughing a bit as if lost in a memory unseen to Logan. “Went on like that for a good ten minutes before I was able to manage to say anything to him. It didn’t take long before he said that there was another like me, except one that had been caught. Roman said he had overheard some other students talking about you in the hallways.”

The thought made Logan shudder, in all honesty.

Thomas continued after a brief pause. “So, he went to the pet shop after to see if the rumours were true and lo and behold, there you were with another.”

“Arthur,” Logan stated after a moment. “His name was Arthur.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, a genuine look crossed his features. “That you had to go through all of that at all.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “It really wasn’t that bad.” 

Except it was. Sometimes worse than one could imagine. To be mocked daily for being caught or for how small he was. All those rude remarks came flooding back and he winced as if he had been physically hit.

He tried so hard not to let it impact him, but sometimes, in the dead of the night, the harsh words were all he could hear.

“Can’t believe they actually caught one. Look at it. Little pest.”

“They should just put the poor thing out of its misery. Not like it has a life to live anyways.”

“Borrowers don’t have families. It’s just an excuse to make people pity them.”

“Vermin like you should be exterminated.”

“I bet there’s a cat out there that’s already gotten to your family. You’re better off here anyways, normal people are probably much better company.”

Logan knew not to take any of those words seriously, but it was sickening to know that there were humans out in the world that would kill a borrower if they were to get the opportunity.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder suddenly, Logan gasped and jolted away from him. Blinded by the fear of his memories.

His gaze drifted downwards to his forearms and he could see bruises littering them. The pain in his left shoulder when he had been handled so carelessly by children and adults alike. The tight grasp of a child who didn’t understand how fragile his body was compared to the strength in just their hands. Or the knowledge of the power that the adults had over him, that had used that over him.

“I finally gotcha, ya little runt,” the janitor’s voice echoed loudly in his head like bells, a laugh that could have shattered his eardrums followed. “Took me long enough, huh? You were a tough catch. Shame I wasn’t able to get the other two, but I s’pose you’ll have to do.”

Logan could hear the voice, shaking him to his core. The way it rumbled through his bones.

“Though, I s’pose just one of you will still be a steep price for any buyer.”

When he looked up, Logan wasn’t in a new place anymore. He was back in that damned cage, green eyes staring back at him looking smug and gleeful. He felt his heart sink.

His hands were shaking, he realized belatedly.

No, he was shaking all over, it wasn’t just his hands.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re alright,” the gentle voice of the other borrower broke through into Logan’s conscious and he looked up to him, but he wasn’t really looking to see him. “You’re not there anymore. You’re with me. You’re safe.”

It took a moment of fighting with his consciousness to really register that he was safe. He was safe for the first time in a very long time.

It still didn’t feel real.

When Thomas reached out this time, Logan didn’t flinch away and was instead slightly more relaxed when he felt the warm touch of another person his size. After being around humans for so long, being with one of his own kind was refreshing.

When he looked back down to his arms, the bruises were non-existent. His skin was clean, save for the scars that lined his forearms from his first failed escape attempt.

His hand brushed down the length of his forearm, feeling the scarred skin. It was almost a reassurance. There was no pain when he touched it, so the bruises must have been some sort of hallucination. Maybe he was overtired. He was probably overtired.

Logan then shook himself, before clearing his throat. “I—I apologize for that, I seemed to have had a relapse.”

“That’s okay,” came the gentle response, “you’re allowed to feel, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

He hadn’t known that freedom in the past six months. If Logan had shown any emotion whatsoever to a human captor, he would have been punished for it. He had only ever safe comfortable showing emotion around Patton and Virgil because no matter what, they were always there. Patton with a caring touch and Virgil, while so young, trying to assist in any way he could.

The other sighed quietly. “I think you staying the night is a good idea,” he said after a moment, taking a step back from Logan, not wanting to overwhelm him with too much attention at once. “It would probably help you really understand that you’re going home.”

Home.

Home.

Logan finally got to go home.

It was then that everything he refused to feel flooded forwards and water immediately brimmed his eyes. He laughed hoarsely—a helpless noise between joy and overwhelming emotion—after a moment, pulling his glasses off to rub at the wetness. He refused to let any tears fall, but the true relief was there. It was no longer a dream to see them again, Logan had that chance. The chance that he had been waiting six months for.

Almost as if Thomas could feel it, he stepped closer again but this time was a bit more startled to find Logan reaching out and grabbing onto him. Physical displays of gratitude were not something he was used to, but he needed it. He needed that sort of reassuring touch.

“You’re alright,” he soothed him, just as Logan’s hands tightened in the back of his shirt, his shaking began to increase as everything really did register with him. It was hard to believe, in all honesty.

Six months of suffering were over because of a human that actually seemed to genuinely care. A human that had his heart in the right place, even if his motives were a bit odd.

“Breathe with me, okay?” He started off, sinking to his knees as Logan slowly began to drag him down. “In for four seconds, hold for seven and out for eight. I can count with you, if you’d like.”

It took a moment, but Logan was nodding. His mind was in a frenzy and counting himself was not going to help.

“Stop throwing things, Logan, for God’s sake. You’re only going to drive more people away like that.”

“You tell me that as if I don’t know it,” he had snarled back, a sharp glare over his shoulder. “I want to go home.”

The shopkeeper sighed, shaking their head. “This is your home. At least, until someone comes along and actually wants you.”

“No. This hellhole is not my home.” He had paused at that, sharing a look with the shopkeeper standing above him, watching him between the bars of the metal cage, looking weary. “I want out of this cage. I want out of this pet shop. I want to be treated like a fucking person. Do you understand me?”

“You’re not a person, Logan,” they had said back. The sentence had winded him as if he hadn’t expected those words to come out. It had been a sharp and cold reminder of his future if he didn’t find a way out of this mess. “You’re a borrower and everyone knows that a borrower is not a person.”

“You’re safe,” Thomas’s voice shattered the memory that had demanded all of his attention.

He was far too tired for this.

Logan kept listening to the steady counting, the reassuring words. It almost made him feel better, hearing such a steady rhythm. Something he could predict and follow, without a surprise in the mix. The exhaustion began to settle in like a heavy blanket. It weighed over his shoulders, dragging him further down and he allowed himself to be held. At the moment, he could have cared less that he was with a stranger, he just needed to sleep.

After a few more rounds of slow and soft counting, Logan was drifting off—without meaning to, of course—and the young man slumped fully into the other borrower’s arms, who was then shifting his weight to hold Logan a bit more steadily, without the worry of him slipping and waking up again.

He didn’t deserve that. If this was the most sleep he had gotten in a while, there was no reason to wake him up. Certainly not by accident. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

It was a sight that hurt his heart, he admitted. Seeing the male so emotionally and physically exhausted. Roman had made the right call—of course he had—to get Logan out of that place, especially if this was the aftermath. How long had he been separated from his family? It probably would have been a question to ask before he had passed out, but stuff like that could wait until the morning.

As soon as he was sure Logan was out like a light, Thomas was able to stop his counting. But now he found himself in a bit more of a position.

This wasn’t the first time he had had someone fall asleep on him, but the other times he had been somewhat alright with disturbing them, even if for a little bit. Logan was a different case altogether. It didn’t exactly seem as though he slept. At least, not a lot.

Possibly not enough.

It was easy to believe that being stuck in a pet shop for God knows how long would leave someone sleep deprived and mentally scarred.

A couple minutes later and there were the telltale sounds of a human returning to the room. Though, before Thomas could even say a warning, Roman was already speaking.

“Alright, so I found some—”

“Shh!” The hush was certainly a bit sharper than he meant it to be, but it was enough to gain Roman’s attention. Without saying anything, he was then motioning to Logan, who was now fast asleep against him.

It took a moment before he realized what was wrong before it hit him. ‘Oh,’ he quietly mouthed back to the borrower who had apparently been dubbed a safe enough person to fall asleep on, stranger or not.

It wasn’t hard to get to the table without making a noise, but there was the worry of accidentally nudging it and causing the table to shake.

‘Tired?’

Thomas nodded. This was probably the most exhausted he had seen someone his own size before. The way Logan had just seemed so ready to slump over and let his exhaustion take control. It was discouraging.

Whatever he had been through had taken more of a toll on him than they had been led to believe at first. Especially with how distant Logan seemed to be—for the most part, at least.

It also proved to him how much better a person Roman was compared to a lot of other people.

The others he had managed to help since the two of them had started working in tandem had been weary all the same, but not to the point where they gave up on consciousness. Like this, there was only so much they could do to help him, but there was still hope.

There always was.

#Brook writes #Sanders Sides #g/t #borrowers #giant/tiny #ts Logan #ts Roman #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Character!Thomas #Thomas Sanders #Platonic Logince #Logince #Platonic TLAMP #TLAMP #giant #tiny #fainting tw #over exhaustion tw #PTSD tw #traumatic flashbacks #trauma #Borrower!Logan #Human!Roman #Borrower!Thomas #Desperate Measures

[innerpostmentality]

Sometimes Beginnings Start With Goodbye - Part VI - Awakening

This is a TRR AU fan fic inspired by the Choices book series The Royal Romance All rights and many thanks are given to Pixelberry Studios for the use of their characters. Original characters are mine. This fic is written for my friend @tornbetween2loves it started as a birthday fic and has expanded. Please read these stories in order or they won’t make sense. The series links can be found in my Masterlist. There will be more parts to this series. Featuring: King Liam x Queen Giselle, Drake Walker, Dr. Meridoc Finn Rating: M - Erotica and Mature themes, Serious illness, Hospital setting              Word count: close to 2300 Warnings: erotica 18+ only please, depictions of depression, hospitalization, and life threatening illness Tagging: @tornbetween2loves @gardeningourmet @kennaxval @stopforamoment @bobasheebaby @cora-nova @indiacater @hopefulmoonobject @drakewalkerwhipped @texaskitten30 @darley1101 @furiousherringoperatortoad @emceesynonymroll           Liam was pacing agitatedly in their quarters when Giselle got in from her last meeting. “Li? Are you okay?”  He turned and looked at her a frown etched on his features before going to her and wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in the dark silk of her hair. He held her tightly for a long moment before confessing, “I’m… struggling.”  She stroked his back feeling the tension in him as he held her. “I love you.” she murmured before she kissed the center of his chest. “What happened, Love?”  “Drake responded to the new doctor.”  Giselle was confused and she nuzzled into Liam. “That’s great! Isn’t it? Isn’t this what we’ve been hoping for?”  His tone was definitely subdued as he murmured softly, “Yes.”

  Giselle pulled back so she could look up into her husband’s face. She studied his handsome countenance as his frustration had his jaw clenched and etched creases between his brows. She reached up and gently stroked the frown lines between his brows then kissed him softly. “It’s okay for you to want him to have responded to you, Liam.”  He pulled her tight to him and fought against tears in his eyes.   “They practically kicked me out. Virtually told me that he wasn’t responding because he didn’t want to respond to me.   He’s my best friend, my best friend. I’m…   I don’t know what to do, Giselle. What if he hates me? What if all this is my fault?”   She shook her head, “It’s not Li. Don’t do this to yourself. Drake doesn’t hate you. Drake has always loved you. Just as you have always loved Drake.”   “I took you from him. Don’t you see? You were the only woman he has ever loved and I took you from him.”   Giselle leaned back so she could look into his eyes and huffed.   “Stop it! You didn’t take me from him. I wasn’t his. It was my decision.    Drake is a great friend. I will always love him as a dear friend. You are my husband because my heart is one with yours.     I love you Liam. You are my husband. You are the one I want to have babies with. I want to wake up to you snoring in my side. I want the chafe of your morning beard on my neck. I want to sing and dance and share every smile and every tear with you for all my days.” She kissed him gently.    “I really hope that someday Drake will find someone who loves him like I love you. But that’s not me. And it was nothing you did.    I believe we were meant to be. I felt you in my heart the very first time I kissed you on that boat before the Statue of Liberty. You Liam, not Drake, it was always you.”   Liam groaned and scooped her up in his arms carrying her to their bedroom. His voice was filled with aching need, “Giselle,… please my love… I need you so much.”  Desire radiated from him as he laid her on their bed then fumbled to release himself even as he reached under her skirt and found her thong soaked from her passion.    Giselle gasped as his finger stroked through her passion slicked folds before plunging into her. Her back arched with her need and she gasped, “Take me, Li… I’m yours. Only yours.”   The Mediterranean blue of his eyes barely showed around the depths of his passion blown pupils as he pulled her thong aside and buried his achingly hard length deeply in her welcoming passage.    She moaned her pleasure even as she reached to pull his shirt out so she could touch his skin.   His mouth met hers their tongues dancing even as he thrust vigorously into her hot core. He adjusted slipping his arm under her left leg to lift it just enough he could tell she was getting the perfect stimulation. Then her back arched and her inner walls were contracting around him milking him. His body answered releasing so hard it was an ache in his balls and belly. He gasped her name at last finding his voice again.   He held her tightly to him still shaking and rolled to his side, murmuring soft I love yous into her hair.     She kissed him tenderly and smiled gently stroking his tousled curls. “Hey.”        He smiled and rested his forehead on hers. “Hey.”    “Feeling better, my king?”        “Mmmm, hmmm.” He kissed her nose.    “I’ve got an idea…”     He kissed her mouth before she could finish, finally breaking the kiss and smirking at her. “I do too.” He started unbuttoning her blouse.    Giselle giggled. “Great minds think alike I’ve heard.” She started unbuttoning his shirt, then yawned. “I was actually coming up here with designs on a nap before dinner. How’s your schedule?”    “Clear for a few hours. I wasn’t sure how long the hospital would take.” He deftly slipped her blouse off then reached around her to unfasten her bra freeing her from it’s confines then nuzzling the firm globes of her breasts before gently suckling a pert nipple.     “Oww! Careful there. I’m tender.”     At once Liam let go and kissed her sensitive nipple. “I’m sorry Love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He stroked her cheek tenderly.    She kissed his palm and nuzzled him. “I love you, Li. But I really am so sleepy. And you are waaay over dressed. Can we just nap a bit and I’ll be ready for dinner. I mean wake me for dinner?” She smiled and yawned again. Her eyes drifted closed as he got up to remove the rest of his clothes; and by the time he returned to the bed she was curled up asleep.    Liam looked at his own sleeping beauty for a long moment his heart swelling with his love for her. How he wound up so damn lucky he would never know. And she was right. Drake responding was cause for celebration even if it wasn’t to him.    He chuckled looking at her softly snoozing with her dress pumps still on. Her blue jersey dress skirt bunched up exposing her garter belt and thong.  She was radiantly, effortlessly beautiful to him. His queen.  He gently removed her shoes and she sighed softly but didn’t wake. He undid her stockings and rolled them down her legs kissing her ankles. He loved the way the corners of her mouth lifted even in her sleep as he pressed kisses down her legs undressing her.    Finally when they were both bare he set an alarm on his phone for an hour and pulled a blanket over them spooning around her with a feeling of deep contentment settling over him.                                                    ****      Meridoc woke up with her back and shoulders cramping and the distinct feeling that she was being watched. She had a moment of disorientation with the steady beeping of the heart monitor, the dimmed resting lighting in the room, and the periodic soft burring of the pump on the NG feeding tube. Her hand was still clasped in Drake’s hand as she lifted her head off her asleep arm and groaned softly from her muscles aching in protest from being in the same awkward position for too long.    She blinked, focusing and realized that she was in fact being watched by a pair of very aware dark eyes. She yawned and gave him a soft smile. “Ach, well, hello there Mister Walker.”    “Wha?” his voice was painfully dry and raspy as he tried to ask the woman holding his hand what had happened. He didn’t recognize her. Yet she was holding his hand when he woke up shackled in the hospital bed. He presumed it was the hospital. God in heaven he hurt. At least he felt a little warmer now.   “It’s grand to see you awake. I’m doctor Finn, Meridoc Finn.” She stood with another groan and found the nurse call remote. “Maith liomsa, ach, I’m going to get you some assistance and beg your leave for a bit.”    He squeezed her hand and blinked at tears. He didn’t want her to leave. It was silly and he knew it at some level. But her hand comforted him. Her voice was like a soothing balm that eased him. He knew her voice. It pulled him from the cold darkness that had consumed him. The idea of her leaving wrenched his heart. He moaned and squeezed her hand. “Plea…” He managed a soft raspy whisper that tore at his painfully dry, raw throat.    A middle aged nurse in apple print scrubs came to the door. “Dr. Finn, you called?”   Meridoc smiled at the dark-haired nurse. “Aye. Mister Walker is awake. And I’m in serious need of some relief. Could you please bring me a cup with ice chips and see if there is someone in the waiting room who might come say hello and sit with him for a bit?  Ah, and can you turn up the lights just a notch? Not too bright.” She continued to hold his hand even as she tried to stretch and roll her shoulders to relieve some of the kinks.    Deep compassion shone in her eyes as she looked down into his. “I wager you’re dry and wondering about how you wound up here?”    The nurse brought in a plastic cup of ice chips and Meridoc thanked her. “Mister Walker I’m not leaving but I thought you might like a little moisture. So I’m going to need my other hand for a wee bit.”    His eyes locked with hers and he let her hand go. Tears rolled down his cheeks as her hand left his. He felt foolish as panic washed through him and he curled his empty hand into a painful fist.    She reached out and gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Ach there, now. Here.” She ran an ice chip over his lips holding onto it letting it melt and drip into his mouth. “I can’t give this to you with you flat. So I’m going to raise your head a smidge once you are finished with this chip.”   The cool moisture was like heaven to his parched mouth. He didn’t know why her presence comforted him so much. He just knew she was his savior, his angel, giving him strength, making him whole again through all the pain.    After the last drop of the melted chip ran from her finger into his mouth she nodded then went and raised the head of his bed before returning to the head of the bed. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and put an ice chip in it then held it a moment to dampen the handkerchief. “Now I’m going to wipe your eyes if you wish and give you this ice chip in your mouth; but you must not try to swallow the chip. Do you understand?”    Her eyes were blue. Heaven blue. And freckles like pixie kisses dusted across her nose and cheeks.  She was telling him that she was going to adjust his bed so he could have some ice. But she didn’t want him to swallow the ice. He understood. “Ye..” It hurt to speak. His voice was a bare whisper but he wanted her to know he was trying.   The nurse led Bastien in as Dr. Finn was carefully wiping Drake’s eyes with her damp handkerchief before she slipped him a piece of ice.     Bastien saw Drake’s look of adoration when he opened his eyes again and watched Meridoc. Bastien noted Dr. Finn’s gentle smile and complete focus on Drake as she slipped him an ice chip then carefully ran the pad of her thumb over Drake’s bottom lip. Bastien blinked the tears that threatened. “Drake! Gie, mou.” He went to the bed as Dr. Finn stepped back. He leaned down taking Drake’s hand, opening it and squeezing it gently.     Drake reluctantly looked away from Meridoc and into Bastien’s love filled face. He blinked feeling the tears run again and squeezed Bastien’s hand back.    “Mr. Lykel, Mr. Walker has been awake for a bit. He’s responding nicely. If you wouldn’t mind sitting with him while I find some food and call my Da I’d be most grateful. I got him some ice chips and he can have one at a time as long as he just lets them melt in his mouth. Only one at a time as long as he’s responsive.”   She looked back at Drake her voice was firm but gentle. “No swallowing ice chips, Mr. Walker. We don’t want you choking around your feeding tube. I’m going to see about getting you some lip balm. You’re doing very well.”    He tried to nod but it made him gaggingly aware of the NG tube down his throat and his eyes widened and watered.    She squeezed his foot through the covers. “Hey, none of that. You two have a nice chat and I will come back soon.”   “Mr. Lykel you might want to tell Mr. Walker how he wound up here. And about all the nice friends waiting for him to get better. With that feeding tube in place he’s going to have a terribly sore throat and possible problems trying to speak but he’s giving good effort. I expect he’ll be needing some rest soon. He seems to rest better when you hold his hand.”    Bastien watched Drake follow Dr. Finn out of the room with his eyes before his gaze came back to him. Bastien knew he was crying and he just didn’t care. For the first time in a week he had real hope. He leaned over and kissed Drake’s forehead. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you, son. You can’t imagine the gray hairs you’ve given all of us. Liam and Giselle flew back as soon as I told them. Liam has been making arrangements for you to be able to recover in the palace. Doctor Finn is part of that. She’s a world renowned physical therapist who’s here to work with you. She was recommended by Doctor Ardes.”    He tried to listen to Bastien, he really did but he was so tired his eyes drifted closed as the comfort of Bastien’s voice and hand holding his lulled him to sleep.                                                                       

#sometimes beginnings start with goodbye #trr au fanfic #happy birthday liz! #drake walker #choices fanfiction

[wafflesetc]

All I want for Christmas is You (previously) Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you to @kkruml​ and @missclairebelle​ for always fixing what needs the most work. I love you both.

Claire December 18th

“It’s been two days, Geillis.” I shook my head as I shoved the burger into my mouth. “He hasn’t called or said a damn thing.”

My favorite nurse sat across from me and laughed. “Dinna be speakin’ wi’ yer mouth full!”

“Mmphmm.” I mumbled continuing to chew on my lunch.

“It’s nearing the end of the year, ye’ve been on call almost nonstop-” She started, but I narrowed my eyes at her. “And there’s the new quarter comin’ up, ye both are in a busy season. Tis also the holidays…”

Swallowing and taking a sip of my water, I relished in my drunken choices from the night.

“Ye regret it then?” I could see the raise of her brow.

“No.” The words escaped my mouth faster than I could realize and my stomach dropped. I had yet to willingly admit to myself, let alone another human.

“Ye really like him, then?” I could see the devilish grin appear on her face.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “He’s not so bad, if you can see past the ego, the hair, and his overly melodramatic approach to marketing.”

“So, if he were to ask ye on a date, say today sometime, what would ye say?”

“I think I’d say yes…..” I nearly whispered. “I think.”

“Well, if anyone can warm that cold heart of yers, Dr. Beauchamp, I think it would be Jamie Fraser.”  She stood and strut off into the distance.

“Me too…” I could feel my cheeks rising as I spoke to no one but myself, “Truth is he already has.”

Jamie December 18th

The best perk to being the marketing department’s heartthrob? Knowing people in the right places. He had never intended to become the heartthrob- but selling the hospital to donors and politicians, the wining and dining, the galas, the meetings- it just sort of happened.

He quickly smiled at Mrs. Fitzgibbons and thanked her for checking the on-call list for the next three days, making a mental note to order her a bouquet of flowers as thank you.

“I’m rooting for ye, laddie.” She winked at him, “I’m rooting for ye! She’s the best doctor in this hospital, and my favorite. Dinna be spreading that rumor around, ye ken?”

“I ken.” His Scottish accent thick on the words, “But I am rooting for me too.”

“Also James, dinna break her heart. Ye break her heart and she surely will break yers.”

Jamie nodded and buttoned his suit jacket. “I heed yer warning, Mrs. Fitzgibbons.”

“Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I have to finish the instrument orders for next month.”

“And I have a doctor to track down.”

Claire December 19th

“A large hematoma…” I spoke into the dictation machine after I had finished rounding on my last patient for the night- then I was homeward bound. I was standing outside of the patient’s room and could feel the ache in my feet.

“Sassenach,” I could feel his breath on my neck and my mind registered the voice instantly, “Do ye have a minute?”

“Yes, Mr. Fraser…” I started in my professional voice as I did a quick scan of the hallway. Our eyes met and I knew my cheeks would flare up at any second, that damn delicate English skin. His eyes were warm and welcoming, the smile on his face wide and filled with nothing but dare I say hope. He had come a man on a mission- and I had a feeling I knew just what he wanted.

“Tis no one here, but you and me. And the patients, but Mr. Jones seems rather sedated.” He poked his head into the small crack of the door and I laughed. He smiled at my response and closed the door.

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” I felt my doctor facade fall away and leaned against the wall. I stashed my dictation machine in my pocket.

“I was wonderin’...” I could see the tips of his ears go red.I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, my heartbeat in my ears and my palms starting to sweat.  “I ken ye’re not on-call for the next two nights….”

“You stalked my schedule?” All of my nerves were right, he had come here to ask me exactly what I thought.

“No.” His cheeks flushed hot pink. “I inquired with a resource because every time I triedta find ye, ye were either in the A&E or the OR….”

“I’m a busy woman.”

“Exactly, but I was wondering..” He stopped and squinted his eyes, narrowing his cat like brow at me, making me weak in the knees with nerves. One of us had to be brave here, and I had a feeling it was going to be me.

“You were wondering if I might want to spend one of my off nights with you? Presumably a dinner date?” I raised my own brow at him and smiled, cocking my head to the side.

“Your presumption is correct. Say, tomorrow night? Eight o’clock?”

I took my pen out of my pocket and reached for his hand. I wrote my address on his palm. Somehow I thought my hands would have been shaking, my handwriting illegible, yet my surgeon’s hands remained at bay- steady and firm, writing in the neatest text I had ever had since grade school. What was making me so brave I didn’t know- this wasn’t something I usually did- but the small feeling of whatever it was between us bubbled in the atmosphere. Whatever it was, I never wanted it go away,

“See you then,” I flashed a warm smile and sauntered down the hallway, wondering who in the hell I was becoming.

Jamie December 20th

He had butterflies in his stomach the entire way to the restaurant.

Somehow she had known- she had seen through the bravado, the rumors, the facade he put up at work. Somehow she knew without even knowing him outside the confines of the hospital- somehow she knew just who he was.  She had known that first night- the way her hands had caressed his back, the way she had moved with him- it hadn’t been just a one night stand. It had been the meshing of two souls, and they had both felt the earth tilt on its axis that night.

She had worn jeans and a simple black v-neck, accompanied with a grey cardigan. He had worn something very similar and let out a small laugh when she joked at him, “We’re already looking like an old married couple.”

Her joke had minutely eased his nerves, but still, Jamie Fraser was on a date with the Dr. Beauchamp.

The small Italian place he had taken her to was perfect. The food was delicious. The company, beyond compare.

He watched her take the last bite of lasagna and chuckled.

“Wot?” Her voice was clipped and properly, utterly British.

“Ye eat with gusto,” He said softly, “I like watchin’ ye eat.”

“Food has been one of the only constants in my life. There when everyone else has left me.” He heard the double meaning in that sentence and felt a pang in his stomach. She’s a lonely lass.

“I ken how ye feel, after my Mam and brother died… It was just my sister and my Da… Then my Da died…”

He saw her wipe a tear from her eye.

“I had no idea,” the meek English voice admitted..

“I was but a lad, dinna fash. It made me who I was today, ye ken?” He tried to cover the heartache over with a bit of strength and bravado in his tone.

“I get it.” She nearly whispered, and by the sad look in her eyes, he knew in his gut she knew exactly what he was talking bout.

“My parents died when I was five. I was raised by my Uncle Lambert until he passed away while I was in medical school…” She swirled the wine in her glass and he saw her take a breath. The hesitation radiating from her made his heart tear into two.“Then Frank… But he cheated on me with his student. It’s been me through medical school and residency…”

Frank, he thought to himself. What a bastard. So she had definitely had her heart broken, more than once. He knew her even being willing to come to dinner was a large feat. Deep down, he too, knew the hurt of being alone. “My sister lives at the family home, in Lallybroch, near Inverness. I moved here to get away from all the memories. I couldna be in the place where all the hurt seemed to be.”

“We’re quite alike, aren’t we?” She looked up with whisky eyes to meet his blue.

“More so than either one of us cared to admit, before.”

He felt her hand under the table as she placed it on his thigh.

“I never believed what I heard. The rumors from the nurses… They are nurses, they like to talk.” She let out a small laugh and shook her head. “You’re not that kind of guy…” She took a breath and rested her head on her other hand that was on the table, “Appearances for marketing. Look a certain way, act a certain way, you have to sell a product. It doesn’t mean it’s who you are.”

“Ye saw right through it.”

“I did. I might not like the fact you chose to put up a show for the sake of business- but it’s not who you are at your core, Jamie Fraser.” His stomach dropped at the words that she admitted to him. He didn’t even have to try and fight to change his reputation in her eyes- he was just Jamie.

“Who am I then?” He asked.

“I’m figuring it out as I go.” She squeezed his thigh one more time- he could feel the warmth in his stomach well at the depth of emotions he was starting to feel for the woman in front of him.

“What it is between us, is it normal?” He placed his hand on hers.

“No… It isn’t usual.”  She answered as he intertwined their fingers, hoping to God he’d never have to let go.

#Outlander #Outlander fanfic #Jamie x Claire #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #All I want for christmas is you AU #craigh na queue