#apprentice reader

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How did you get here?

~

“Qifrey…” Olruggio speaks. Quiet, exhausted, and harsh. He looks to the man in front of him, expecting some kind of genuine answer to come out of him. A defence for his case.

All Olruggio gets in response is a gentle smile, and a slight tilt of Qifrey’s head as he stays looking at the man in front of him.

Olruggio's eyes drift from Qifrey’s own down to where you latch on to him. You hid yourself under Qifrey’s cloak and your hands grip onto his waist from behind. You were an anxious one.

You make eye contact with Olruggio, shrinking back further into Qifrey for a moment.

“Hello, mister,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on Olruggio, but they strayed from and avoided looking at his face again. Never looking above his chest.

Olruggio sighs. “Just call me Olruggio,” his voice still came out tired, but less annoyed.

Annoyed, not at you, but at a fifth apprentice that Qifrey has brought back with him to the atelier. Perhaps this is just something he has to get used to; Qifrey bringing to the atelier apprentices like a wife or child bringing home a stray cat. There’s more contrast than compare.

Olruggio’s eyes flicker between you and Qifrey for only a moment longer before stepping aside, letting you two cross the threshold past him.

Qifrey thanks his friend, and begins to guide you to your temporary room. It was only a guest room, but it was getting late. Surely he would figure out a better arrangement for your sleeping and studying quarters come morning.

When Qifrey steps back into the heart of the atelier, Olruggio has his back against the empty fireplace, clearly waiting for his return.

“Another apprentice, Qifrey? Why?”

Qifrey looks to Olruggio as he asks his question. He smiles before saying, “I really do believe there is always room for another,” he walks closer, sitting in front of Olruggio, “and perhaps I wished to survey their wonder and expand it in the right places.”

~

One month under his wing-

~

“Master Qifrey,” you speak, peeking around the arch that forms between the kitchen and dining room.

Once you spot him over the stove, you stand to your full height, revealing the rest of your body from behind the wall.

Qifrey turns to face you, “Yes, what is it?” His brow arches lightly as you look up to him. He sets the kettle down, already having poured the hot water in his cup to make himself tea. “Do you need help with anything?” His voice remains gentle as always.

He always seemed a bit brotherly, or even fatherly, despite the basic relation of master and apprentice.

“Actually, I've been having a bit of trouble with my line work lately,” you grumble, gripping the white fabric that rests just above your stomach. You look down at the points of your shoes, unable to find the emotion you feel in yourself about your inability to draw a proper spell.

You then look back up to Qifrey. “I have asked for advice or help from the others, but none of it really seems to work for me. I even tried to ask help from Mister Olruggio, but—um,” your shoulders stiffen up a bit at the memory of Olruggio glaring at you as if he were a dead man revived before you could even utter out a single letter of a word to him.

Qifrey hums, laughing a bit at the last bit you speak, “I see. He can get a bit carried away in his work, leading him to be—well, tired,” he says the last word as if it alone would explain his friend’s habit.

Focusing back on the subject, he calls out your name, asking to see your hands as he holds out his own.

When you place your dominant hand into one his own, palm facing up, he crouches down to your level. Soon he starts poking at the palmer of your hand, then moves to feel and lightly rub your fingers.

After just a short moment, Qifrey hums before standing back up and asking, “Do you think it may have something to do with your pen?”

You look at him, and back to your hand. “I haven’t really thought about that being why.” You thought for a moment, “Though, Coco did ask a similar question. She also said she has a bit of trouble with her lines, too,” you bring your other hand to join the other, pushing your thumb into the middle of the other’s palm.

Qifrey only pats your head, putting your main focus back on to him, before he suggests, “Why don’t you sit on it for a little while longer?”

“Okay,” you nod.

“And,” Qifrey bends down, putting his other hand on his knee, “if it really is because of your pen, we can pay a visit to Kalhn and get you a new one. Easy fix,” he smiles down at you, closing his eyes.

You nod again, the action a bit more pronounced. You mirror his smile too, “Okay,” you say again.

“Now be on your way,” Qifrey walks back to the counter he left his tea cup on before looking back at you, over his shoulder. “It’s time you continue studying your spells,” he dismisses you from the kitchen. “Remember to know your limit,” Qifrey adds as you step back out into the dining area.

“Right, of course,” you fully turn away from him, making your way back to your workspace.

~

Turns out you had a minor case of a writer’s cramp from overworking yourself just a little too much. That, of course, got you a bit of a scolding from Master Qifrey when you two figured it out from your hand freezing up when he asked you to demonstrate a basic spell.

You two ended up paying a visit to Kalhn for a new pen anyway, though this one would be for more temporary and more limited use. Mr. Nolnoa did not have any pens made specifically for a writer’s cramp or anything “special” like that, but he was able to round out the tip of one just a bit for this case.

Master Qifrey had taken the newly customized pen out of your reach and put into his own bag when Mr. Nolnoa finally came back out with it in hand.

When you finally got the pen into your own hands, you tested it out immediately on the first thing of blank parchment you found back at the atelier. It definitely did glide across the paper easier than your former pen, and because of that, it required less pressure from your wrist. You still found that you preferred your original pen anyway, but you were still thankful for the kind of gift.

Qifrey does not have any need to worry further about you using your original pen, or even practicing too much, when you are getting over your cramp. He already had a conversation with the other apprentices about your small period of required recovery. Estimated by himself.

Richeh and Tetia, whom you share a workspace with, will remind you… Quite a bit. They worry about you, too, just as much as your master. Nobody in the atelier wants it to be a bigger case than what it already was, and not knowing your habits very well— well, they just wanted to be sure you were taking care of yourself as well.

Coco and Agott in this same case both stress that you shouldn’t overwork yourself for something that naturally takes time to get better at.

Qifrey agrees with it all, even mentioning at dinner, “It’s a good thing it was only a minor case.”

That you agreed with.

You agreed with all of them, and told them to not stress about your own predicament.

Qifrey very often sees that passion you share about magic with Coco’s own. He even has the fondest smile when he sees you two talking amongst yourselves about the topic.

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Requests

Undeniably proof that Qifrey's name keeps AUTOCORRECTING TO "WIFEY." I also scrapped the lines in the video, so don't try to find them on here :,)

You laid on your back, looking up at your moon-illuminated ceiling. No matter what position you laid in, how tightly you shut your eyes, or how high you raised your blanket over your head, you weren’t able to get even a moment of sleep. Your hands itched for your pen.

You turned to look outside of the window. The night was still young, and if you were careful you probably wouldn’t wake anyone up. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly got out of your bed, grabbed your lantern from your bedside counter, and left your bedroom, and gingerly opened and shut your door so it wouldn’t creak too loudly. Once you made your way to your desk, you kneeled down and carefully placed your lantern onto the soft wood.

You took a piece of paper and held it down with one of your hands. With your other hand, you grasped your pen and dipped it into your small bottle of ink. You watched the way small droplets of the ink fell back into the bottle, before giving your pen a couple of rhythmic taps with your index finger. A few more droplets of ink fell back into the bottle. You brought the tip of your pen to the surface of paper. With a deep breath, you started to draw the first line of a spell.

You started out basic. A simple water spell, a simple fire spell…that you immediately put out with another water spell. But as the minutes turned to hours you started turning to more complex spells. Spells that took a few extra attempts to get right, in your eyes. After completing the circle for a levitation spell, you watched as the paper the spell was drawn on flew into the air before delicately swaying back down onto your desk.

“Perhaps I should try that one spell Tetia came up with…” you mumbled to yourself as you continued to burn through your paper.

By the time it began to occur to you how long you had stayed up, it was too late. You looked up, and your heart dropped at seeing the sun peak out from the hills near the atelier as the birds had begun their morning chirps. You sucked in a deep breath and quickly put your pen back into the bottle of ink before discarding your used paper. Hastily grabbing your lantern, you darted back into your bedroom. You put the light out in your lantern before jumping into your bed and drawing your blanket over your head. You shut your eyes tight again, desperately praying for sleep to come quickly if at all.

“(Y/N), breakfast is ready!” A lively voice called, accompanied by the sound of your bedroom door opening. You groaned as what felt like your only few seconds of sleep were ripped away from you. You slowly but surely sat up in your bed, rubbing your eyes, as if that’d do anything. You blinked open your eyes to see a familiar pink-haired, twin-tailed girl poking her head into your room.

“Good morning,” the pink-haired greeted, as she fully walked into your room with a hop and skip in her step.

“Good morning, Tetia,” You greeted back, internally letting out a sigh of relief as you managed to keep your voice from slurring. “Thank you for waking me up.” You continued, slowly getting out of your bed.

“Thank you for your thank you!” Tetia said, not even missing a bit. The second your feet touched the ground, you had to lean your right hand against your bedside counter. It felt as if the ground was swaying beneath you, like you were on a boat.

“Hey, are you alright?” Tetia asked, tilting her entire body to her waist to the side. Despite the fact that she was right in front of you, her voice came out warbled and far away; as she was attempting to talk to you while you were sinking in the ocean.

“I’m alright. Just a bit tired, still,” you tried to explain. Tetia had an unreadable expression on her face as she let out a small hum, as if she was examining your every move. A second later, her smile reappeared back onto her face, although it wasn’t as bright as it usually was.

“Well, alright then,” Tetia said. She turned around and walked to your door before looking over her shoulder to you, “anyways, let’s hurry! Everybody’s probably waiting for us.” You nodded, following after her as she exited your bedroom and walked to the dining room.

Your body felt both weightless but like lead, and you could already feel the hint of a headache surface. Yet you knew that in order to keep the rest of the Atelier from worrying about your condition, you’d need to steal yourself and remain vigilant, even if your own body made that near impossible. I’ll just make it up by going to bed early today, you tried to tell yourself.

“Well, look who showed up,” Agott’s curt voice mused, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blinked, realizing that you were already walking towards the dining table. You immediately plastered a smile on your face and picked up a wooden bowl from the kitchen countertop.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep in,” you said to Agott, walking over to the pot of breakfast stew. You blankly stared at the usually appealing steaming pot of stew. Seeing whatever was being or had been cooked for breakfast would usually make your heart soar in delight, yet now, looking at the breakfast stew, all you could focus on was the weird feeling swirling in your stomach. Like expired milk, curdling violently inside you. You hesitantly picked up a spoon and poured a small amount of stew into your bowl.

Just enough to abide hunger until lunch time, but little enough to keep you from feeling anymore violently sick than you already were. You made sure a smile was plastered onto your face before walking back to the dining table, bowl in your hands.

“Oh my, is that all you’ll be having for breakfast?” The silky voice of your treasured Master Qifrey asked, causing you to look up at him. He wasn’t looking at you, but down at the amount of stew that was on your plate. You could make out the hint of surprise in his eye. Your smile tightened slightly and you nodded your head.

“I suppose I just don’t have much of an appetite right now,” You said dismissively. You didn’t acknowledge the way Master Qifrey continued to stare at you while you walked over and sat next to Coco. As you ate and listened to everyone else converse between themselves whilst occasionally adding to it, you had to steal yourself from giving into the way the stew upset your stomach.

Since you took so little stew, you had finished breakfast much before anyone else.

“(Y/N),” Coco called out to you as you gathered your bowl in your hands and stood up. You turned back around to look at her.

“Yes, Coco?” You answered.

“Would you like to study together with us? It might be a nice change of pace!” Coco asked and explained.

You sadly smiled, “sorry Coco. Perhaps another day,” you said. Before Coco could respond, you turned your back to her to clean up your bowl. Once you finished, without saying a word, you walked out of the dining room and back to your desk. The bright light shining through the windows was nearly blinding.

You truly did want to take Coco up on her offer but…you couldn’t allow anyone to see how tired you truly were. You sighed and kneeled down in front of your desk, placing another piece of unused paper beneath your non-dominant hand. As you picked up your pen with your other hand, you noted the way it seemed to tremble.

You simply readjusted your hold, tightening your grip on your pen — as if that’d truly help with anything — before dipping it into the ink. You then made the first mark on the paper.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a groan. Your head was pounding, as if a needle had been shot right through it. It was making it hard to think, and focus. You groaned once more, exasperated, as the trembling in your hands seemed to intensify, causing your spell to come out sloppy. You drew your hands to your face and allowed it to rest in them.

I just need some fresh air, you attempted to rationalize with yourself. You grabbed your pouch of paper* and stood up. As you traveled to the door leading outside of the Atelier, you noticed you didn’t encounter any of the girls nor Master Qifrey. Perhaps they were busy elsewhere.

Once you made it outside of the Atelier, you spent a few moments simply basking in the hilly landscape as the soft cool wind danced around you, rippling throughout your gown. You then walked a bit further from the Atelier before kneeling down on the grass, feeling the way the grass tickled at your legs. You opened your pouch. Good, you still had much more paper left in it. Repeating the same motions you did earlier, you tightened your grip on your pen, before you started drawing once more.

After managing to complete just a few spells, you started to feel that perhaps the change in scenery was useless. Your hand was still trembling, and as time ticked on, you felt your eyes growing heavier and heavier. You yawned. Perhaps resting your eyes for a few moments would be fine, right?

With a half drawn spell still on the paper in front of you, and your pen still within your hands, you closed your eyes, hoping that would relieve your exhaustion even by a little.

…

“Is that where you’re choosing to sleep?” The playful tone of Master Qifrey’s voice cut through your exhaustion, causing your eyes to shoot open. You turned your head to see Qifrey leaning down slightly, looking down at you. He had a soft smile on his face, yet you could make out hints of concern in his one, visible blue eye.

“The fresh air is nice, however I’m not quite sure sleeping out here would be as comfortable as sleeping in your bed,” Qifrey teased. You felt your cheeks heat up and you looked away.

“…apologies, Master Qifrey,” you mumbled, bowing your head in shame, “I’ve just felt…very tired today,” you admitted. You heard Qifrey let out a small hum. You heard the soft crunches of grass being stepped on as you saw the tips of Qifrey’s boots walking to stand in front of you. Qifrey’s arm drew into your vision right before he placed his fingertips under your chin, gently urging you to lift your head up. Once you obliged, you noted how your master was now kneeling in front of you on one leg. He tilted his head slightly.

“You stayed up last night practicing spells, didn’t you?” Qifrey asked. There was no tinge of accusation within his voice. You nodded your head, suddenly gaining the want to throw yourself into a hole and never come out. Perhaps you could draw a spell for that while Qifrey isn’t looking.

“My apologies, Master Qifrey,” you repeated. “I just couldn’t help myself.” You looked down slightly, even with Qifrey’s fingertips under your chin.

Qifrey once again tilted your head so that you would look up at him. Much to your surprise, he didn’t seem even the tiniest bit disappointed.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/N). It’s natural to feel the itch to want to improve. I just wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” Qifrey said. He then moved his hand away from under your chin — allowing you to pull your gaze back down to the grass between you to — before placing it on top of your head, petting it softly.

A beat of silence passed between you two as Qifrey continued to pet your head.

“…how about you finish your studies early for today?” Qifrey decided. Your eyes widened and you looked back up at him.

“Really? Is that alright?” You cautiously asked.

Qifrey let out a quiet chuckle, “of course dear. All I ask is that you spend the rest of the day getting an adequate amount of rest.”

You nodded your head and closed your pouch, your pen still in your other hand. You attempted to stand up, however, your legs seemed to refuse to fully obey you, which resulted in them trembling before collapsing under you.

“Oh dear…are you alright? Do you need me to carry you?” Qifrey asked. Through your slightly blurring vision you saw him extend his arms forward as if you were to faint at any moment. You felt your cheeks heat up even more in embarrassment.

“I’m fine, Master Qifrey…” you were going to say more, yet you trailed off as — when you attempted to stand up again — your legs mirrored their previous movements and caused you to lean forward. On instinct, Qifrey reached forward and caught you in his arms, positioning you in a bridle carry. As you rested your head comfortably on your stomach, you felt an unusual freeness in your hands. Did you drop your pen and pouch?

“Don’t worry about your things, (Y/N). I’ll make sure to collect them later,” Qifrey said, as if he could read your mind. “Just focus on resting now.”

As if a spell was cast on you through Qifrey’s words, your eyes grew heavier and you could no longer resist closing them. Qifrey hadn’t even made it through the door of the Atelier before you slipped back into a much needed rest, in the safety of your one and only Master Qifrey’s arms.

*If you have no idea what I’m talking about it’s that small circular notebook the girls use to be able to quickly cast spells. I couldn’t remember what they were called and I felt too tired to check lol.

First ever wha fic yaaaay. Sorry if it ended suddenly, I didn’t know how to end it. I definitely wanna write more of those, but I think I might get better material if I read the manga, soooo I have to get to do doing that one of these days.

Should note tho that anymore platonic qifrey fics I make I’ll probably be putting on ao3 because I feel like there’s really not a lot of platonic qifrey fics, but that doesn’t mean I won’t post anything here tho!!

"What happened to you?" he questioned, rushing to your side. He placed a hand on your lower back to guide you to your shared bedroom after he flipped the sign and locked the door.

"Oh, nothing much..." you trailed off. It was a little embarrassing, really.

"You're bleeding. That doesn't look like 'Nothing much.'" He raised a brow and made you sit on the bed.

"...Would you believe me if I said that a... plant attacked me?"

He blinked incredulously, halting in place. It took him a few moments to process what you just said, trying futilely to figure out how in the world that could've occurred.

"What," he managed to utter, leaning back to stare at you.

"I tripped and spilled a lot of the stuff in my bag. It got over a plant and... here I am," you bashfully explained, incapable of maintaining eye contact any longer.

"What did you have in the bag?"

"Herbs, medicinal powders, items of the like. Now I know not to mix them, I guess."

Asra sighed and shook his head in fond exasperation, but an uneasy expression still managed to cross his face. "It's good that you're okay, but you need to be more careful next time. I was already on edge when I found out that Nadia didn't know where you were."

"Right. Sorry." You furrowed your eyebrows at his apprehension, guilt settling in your chest.

"Well, it doesn't help to dwell in the past." He leaned closer to you. Pressing a hand against your torso, he guided you down so that you lay on your back. "I'd better heal you."

You nodded and relaxed against the plush and comforting covers, shivering at his touch. Your eyes widened in surprise when he did not trace your injury with his fingers like he normally would, but instead placed his lips over the top of your cut. He peered up at you through his eyelashes and smiled innocently.

With gentle glints of light, he mended the skin with his soothing kisses, beginning from your chest. He softly caressed your hips as he moved lower and lower. You swallowed hard and found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him.

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, your face feeling incredibly hot. You tensed when he lingered dangerously close to the waistband of your pants but had to hold back a noise when he abruptly rose from his position.

"You look awfully flustered." His eyes were alight with mischief, body towering over yours. "I wonder what's gotten you so worked up?"

"Don't tease..." You looked away bashfully, feebly squirming under his gaze. He noticed the slightest opening of your legs and couldn't help the smile that appeared. He shifted himself back between your thighs, running his hand over your bare stomach.

He glanced up at you. "Are you sure? You just returned. Do you want to rest first?"

"No, I'm okay. K-keep going," you replied. He nodded, tucked his fingers under the band of your pants, and gently tugged them down alongside your underwear. You sucked in a sharp breath at the contrast between your heated skin and the cooler air of the bedroom, though Asra's body heat very quickly warmed you up again.

He sighed over your semi-hard cock, mouth slightly ajar, and averted his focus onto your thighs instead. He kissed random spots, some closer to where you wanted him and others farther away.

You lightly pulled on his hair to gain his attention and shot him a tense look, to which he chuckled out an apology.

"Sorry. I just missed you." He hovered over your dick once more before finally taking it in his mouth with the aid of his hand. The other one reached for yours, interlocking your fingers as he pushed himself until you could feel the beginning of his throat. He didn't prefer going all the way — not that you minded.

He used the saliva that escaped through the corners of his lips to help him jerk off what he didn't get. You moaned softly, tightening your grip around his hand, digging your free one into the bedsheets. You weren't sure if it was because you were gone for so long, but how he handled you with such practiced ease had you resisting the impulse to thrust your hips upwards.

He hummed contentedly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled affectionately, unable to tear his gaze away from your face. He was rendered utterly entranced for a few moments, captivated with your scent, your taste, your voice. With you.

He worked to please, watching every twitch of your body, listening to every sound that passed your lips. He couldn't help but grind against the mattress: impatience and desire steadily rising, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could subdue them.

With a great deal of reluctance, he pulled himself away from you, already missing the weight of your weeping cock on his tongue. You reopened your eyes — when had you closed them? — and observed him with bated breath. He reached towards the cluttered nightstand and retrieved a bottle of lube, pouring some of the contents on his fingers.

His dick strained against the cloth of his pants, aching to be touched. But he ignored his own needs for the moment, directing his focus solely on you. He inserted one finger inside you before adding a second one, deciding on taking his time to prepare you. He could feel you shudder when he began to move them in a scissoring motion, curling them every so often to bring forth moans.

He leaned down to shower your neck in kisses, heat traveling up and down his spine in powerful surges.

"I'm ready," you murmur breathlessly.

"I just started." Asra raised an eyebrow. You weren't typically this urgent, this needy, but he understands. He's barely stopping himself from acting the same.

"I-It's fine," you stammered, widening your legs in want. "Please..."

He swallowed hard. He longed to finally bury himself inside you, but the concern of hurting you fought valiantly within his mind. His hand slowed in contemplation as he stared into your eyes. They were wide, pupils blown and filled with lust.

"Oh, how could I ever say no to you?" He removed his fingers with a gentle smile before it morphed into something akin to worry. "But please tell me if it hurts, okay?"

You nodded and offered him a meek grin of your own. "I will."

He turned to grab the bottle of lube once more and poured an ample amount (a tad more than usual) on his cock that he freed from his pants a few moments prior. He slightly winced before he pressed the tip against your hole and began to push himself inside.

He groaned, stilling when his pelvis met your ass. The burn was a bit more prominent compared to the previous times you'd done this, but it wasn't something you couldn't tolerate. In fact, you would say that it felt good.

You wordlessly signaled him with a bob of your head to get him to move, to which he sighed pleasurably in return. He trailed his hands up from your hips to your waist, caressing the flesh as he began leisurely thrusting, his pace increasing with every passing moment.

Your breaths were shallow as you gazed at him with loving eyes, enamored with the sight before you. You couldn't resist the urge to raise your arms toward him, wanting to feel his body close to yours - despite knowing he's already as close as he can be. But he couldn't disregard how you were so beautifully splayed out in front of him and entertained your wish by curling his arms around your upper body as you wrapped your own over his back.

There was nothing to conceal each other's noises, creating a melody only the two of you could hear. He could feel you tighten when he whispered breathless praises in your ear, nothing but honesty spilling from his lips.

You turned your head to kiss the side of his neck, offering wordless replies. You were caught up in hazy bliss, arching your back as the heat within your abdomen strengthened each second. Your moans grew louder as you urged him to move a bit faster, desperate to reach your climax.

The bed creaked alongside the headboard that softly struck the wall, mixing in with the harmony that was your moans and his labored breaths, but neither of you paid it any heed.

"I love you. I love you..." he chanted, seemingly lost in the mantra as he neared his orgasm.

You tensed when the spark of ecstasy finally washed over you in surges, rolling over your skin pleasantly. Your cock spurted cum over your bare stomach, tended to by one of your hands. You could feel his breath hitch beside your ear, and instinctively pulled him closer with your legs just as he came.

You shuddered, relaxing as he buried his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. You combed your fingers through his curly white hair, patiently waiting for him to settle, basking in the afterglow.

It wasn't until a minute or so when he finally decided to pull away and place most of his weight on his knees to look at you. The two of you remained silent for a few moments longer until he spoke, "We should take a bath."

You nodded with a chuckle. "Also, where's Faust? I haven't seen her in a while."

"Here..." Faust's faint voice was even quieter than before, and both of your heads swerved towards the windowsill, where the curtains rustled. You were mortified to see a familiar purple snout poke out from underneath.

"How did you not...?!" you exclaimed at Asra. Your face felt so hot it felt like you could cook an egg on it.

"I don't know!" He looked away in shame. "I was caught in the moment?"

He didn't seem sure of himself, and you groaned with your hands over your eyes.

"With you missing from the Palace, coming home injured," he tried to explain, "and with me missing you after just coming home from a recent journey, I completely forgot she was sleeping on the window."

Your expression softened. "I'm sorry."

He smiled. "It's okay. Now, let's hurry and clean up."

Dried and scratchy, the tissue of your throat clenched as you forced yourself to take controlled breaths at an even pace. Those heaving gasps refused to become lax, keeping your pulse frantic. Thoroughly soaked in a cold coating of sweat, you found yourself laid out on the floor of the hangar, listening to the wheezing sound of your own breath and the predictable rhythm of trooper boot falls. 

And though they were all duty bound to ensure your life alway came before their own, none of them came within arm’s reach. Each one of the troopers marched past you, securing the premises of the Imperial base, and as they tended to their duty, you could sense the consuming presence of your master approaching with great urgency. 

Though awash with fear, you pushed yourself upright and to your feet in an attempt to allay some of your master’s concern. 

“Master, I did everything I could.” You started, your voice sounding painfully hoarse. “I meant to send a communication as soon as possible, I really did…”

Lord Vader, in the presence of all his men and women strode over to his young apprentice with a great sense of urgency, that twinge of vulnerability buried under a cultivated portrayal of animosity.

“You’re burned.” 

In veined patches all along the body of his beloved apprentice, it was viscerally apparent the injuries had been rapid and vicious in razing their soft flesh. 

His gaze drifted to the floor of the outpost hangar where the bodies of at least a dozen rebels laid out, their limbs petrified and skin scorched in a similar fashion. Among the fallen, laid a singular jedi, marked by the lightsaber clutched rigidly in her grasp. 

“And did they hurt you?”

You shook your head, sparing him half a glance before looking to the side. Had you been anyone else, Lord Vader would have found such a quiet and dismissive disposition incredibly rude, though in the few years of your apprenticeship, he had learned through regrettable trial and error that any supposed aversion to the polite merely had another purpose. 

“No, my lord Vader. What happened was my own fault.” Your shoulders visibly edged upwards as your eyes flickered from side to side. “I should have sensed the intruders and I should have been more focused with my use of the Force. Please, my lord Vader, forgive me. I should have noticed the breach in the outpost sooner…”

Gathering his thoughts and quelling the torrent of initial speculation in his own mind, Vader turned on the heel of his boot, walking in the direction of his personal transport shuttle. Dutifully, you followed behind him, the sound of your boots soft against the durasteel floor. 

With the shutter of the door sliding firmly into place, Vader beckoned you forward and without question, you stood within arm’s reach. Your pain was vigorous, piercing the previous steady nature of your shared bond. Though you had just started to learn the intricacies of taming such pain, masking it with an impassive guise that remained rooted in detachment, there was no degree of separation that could have separated Lord Vader from your suffering. 

“Quiet your mind to the degree that you are able in this moment, young one. I shall take care of the rest.” 

You had always struggled with degrees of vulnerability. It was undoubtedly being deprived of that vital sense of sight, and subjecting yourself to the will of another that set you on edge. 

Patience ruling his better nature, Vader placed both hands on either side of your head. 

It was yet another moment where he was regrettably consumed by the incisive memory of his old master. Utilizing that old man’s method of soothing a damaged mind left the Sith lord in a slight state of bitterness. But that bitterness could be set aside, it was trivial when laid in comparison to your anguish. 

“Keep still, young one.” He reminded you firmly as your body started to shift somewhat. “It is only you and I, and once we calm that mind of yours, I can help tend to your wounds.”

Letting his own presence within the Force consume you so wholly, he could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate, the streamlined panic that left you in utter shambles became undone for the time being. Left in a state of heavily dazed tranquility, Vader placed his hands on the slope of your shoulders, guiding you to one of the shuttle passenger seats. 

His own tact for healing was far from abysmal, but it was, by no means exceptional. 

“I really am sorry, my Lord Vader. It was never my intention to bring you disgrace by losing control and failing your expectations for me here. I assure you I will redouble my training efforts.”

Setting your statement aside, Vader kept his own gaze fixated on your burn wounds as the singed flesh knit itself back together with the aid of the Force.

“The pattern of these wounds are exceptionally curious, young one. And I am most curious as to how these were inflicted. Tell me truly, was it the work of that Jedi you felled?”

That sway of induced calm left you less coiled with tension, easing the truth right out of your mouth. 

“No, my lord. It was my own doing. Inadvertently.” You added quickly.

Nodding once, he considered your answer. “A loss of control over your guided lightning, I presume?”

“Yes, my lord. When the Jedi and her tactical team entered, I recognized her immediately. She was once a creche master back before the establishment of the Empire. I suppose she survived that night and joined the ranks of the rebels…But she recognized me as well…I could see it in her expression and she kept saying I could go with them ,I could escape and I would be safe, and I wouldn’t have to be so scared anymore–”

 His gloved hand tightened around your arm with restrained ire. “You would do well to silence yourself when it comes to such blasphemous lies, my young apprentice. Do you not remember how I found you?”

“No, my master. I remember perfectly.” 

When two beats of silence followed, he endeavored to remind you further. “What do you suppose would have become of such a small initiate, left alone with intent by the Jedi who should have been there to protect them? Had I not been there with mercy, undoubtedly your life would have ended only a few years after it nearly began.” 

With your wounds now cleanly healed in thanks to his benefaction, Vader’s hands grasped your own. He could recall his last few memories of the Jedi Temple with broiling disdain, and yet there was you. That little tear-stained thing left alone in the creche, shaking sobs that made your whole body tremble as he entered that room. And even in all his vehement glory, you had run up to him, with the unbridled belief that he was there to deliver you from the chaos born of his own revolution. 

It had struck him as so profoundly strange, there was little else he could do aside from plucking you off of the floor of the creche and into his arms

 There would have been no benefit to see you slain, body cast along with the others. It would have been an egregious waste of a Force sensitive lifeform and then there was that poignant ache in his chest when he felt you relax against him. Though he had been sure you could feel at least on a very basic level, the truth of his new nature, you were still able to find comfort in his tumultuous presence. 

“ I know, master.” Your voice remained quiet as you searched for the proper words. “I meant no offense. Trust me, my lord Vader, I remember all too well those Jedi left me to die in that temple. But that, in a way, was what led me to having such injuries. When that Jedi tried to get me to leave with her, all those memories consumed my mind and I could feel the Force flowing through me so…violently.”

“And so that offers an explanation as to your wounds and the fallen Jedi.” Vader mused, squeezing your hands slightly. “But tell me this, my young one, what do you believe made you lose that sense of control?”

Your expression stiffened, the muscles of your jaw twitching just enough for him to notice.

“That feeling of hate. Remembering the feeling of being left by those who I thought would have protected me.”

“Ah. So you see, young one, it is that hate we must seize. It is untamed now, usual for one your age, but we must take it and reconstruct that feeling for your own betterment and that of what is precious to you. And though that may appear to be a monumental task for someone so young, I am more than capable of guiding you. It is your duty to heed all that I say and all that I ask of you.”

“My lord, there isn’t a need really for you to remind me of that.” 

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [22/04/23] ❞

You tidied up the shop as usual, making your way around the modest room you were stationed in, wiping down all the dusty surfaces. After you finished cleaning the main area, you passed through a door to the backroom, where Asra was. You tried not to interrupt him while he was carrying out a tarot reading, so you made your rounds with as little disturbance as possible.

However, you became distinctly cognizant of Asra's presence when, while attempting to wash down a shelf, you recognized the telltale signs of a blush creeping up on the apples of your cheeks. As embarrassing as it was, you've grown an enormous crush on your mentor in recent months.

Asra didn't turn around once when deciphering the reading, which gave you the perfect opportunity to steal glances at him while scrubbing. You thought he was cute, with his fluffy, silvery locks that you desperately wanted to card your fingers through, the way his face scrunched up in concentration, or his otherworldly side profile.

You hadn't paid any attention to the wiping motions of your hands as you absentmindedly pushed a glass jar of herbs off the shelf while admiring him. It collided with the wood floor, shattering the jar. As Asra turned around to locate the source of the crash, you jumped on the spot and grimaced. His gaze flitted from the glass shards to you, an eyebrow arched with amusement.

You politely apologized and encouraged him to continue, then swept up the mess and rushed out of the backroom, humiliated.

...

The bell at the door chimed, heralding the arrival of a customer. You waited for them to finish their browsing, before expertly wrapping up the protective oil they had purchased, and typed numbers into the calculator to determine how much change to give the stranger.

As you were carrying this out, Asra walked over to retrieve something from behind the counter, kneeling down to peer over the items that were on display. Your cheeks heated into an intense burn again the instant he neared you and the customer. You fumbled with their change, and cursed yourself for not being able to pull yourself together in Asra's presence.

Fortunately, he hadn't paid attention to you, so you crouched down to retrieve the fallen money and observed his kneeling form for a brief period; Asra was sorting through various crystals. For just a moment, you pictured what it would be like if he knelt before you like that, those seeking hands worshipping your thighs instead.

The deluge of improper thoughts you envisioned caused you to punch numbers into the calculator a little harder than before, the redness on your cheeks becoming increasingly apparent. You escorted the poor customer away, and Asra gazed upon you, puzzled as to why you were being so clumsy.

...

Asra was sweeping up the main entryway after a long day of work, whistling to himself. As usual, you were situated behind the counter, with an excellent front-row view of Asra. You discreetly observed him as he worked, your gaze veering up the sleeves rolled above his forearms to the open chested shirt he wore.

He'd discarded his scarf to accommodate the weather, and you silently thanked whatever higher power existed for the heat; you were gifted with Asra’s exposed chest. He stopped whistling for a brief moment as he felt your eyes burn into his back; you hurriedly turned your head to the side to avoid meeting his gaze, praying he hadn't spotted you staring at him.

Little did you know, he's become increasingly aware of how frequently you scrutinize him, and he coughed to himself as his own cheeks began to warm at the thought.

...

It's the same routine every time. You're minding your job in the shop when Asra wanders in, and you turn into a bumbling fool. This routine invariably concludes with you sneaking looks at him while you pick up the pieces of your mess. You were arranging grimoires on the shelf as usual, when Asra wandered by to replenish the potions.

As you tried to steal a glimpse at him alongside you, your palm paused in place of the book spine, just barely lingering above the old fabric. Just when you believed you had gone undetected, Asra unexpectedly caught your gaze. You reverted subsequently into a flushed mess as you grasped what had just transpired.

You apologized and resumed your book arranging, hoping he wasn't offended by your behavior. Asra grumbled dissatisfiedly, trapping his palm over where yours lay on the antique book. Asra pressed you against the bookcase, essentially cornering you, and you felt your legs turn to jelly. You had the impression that he was furious with you and that this would be the moment when he finally cracked.

Asra breathed a single huff out of his nose. “I know about your habit.”

Your face fell and you stared at him in dread the instant those words left his lips. Asra's fingertips skittered beneath your chin, the contact shooting sparks over your skin and warming you from the inside.

He tipped your head up. “Look at me.”

And you did.

Asra's demeanor swiftly transformed to one of mirth, and he searched into your eyes for any sign of discomfort. “If you wanted to stare at me all day so bad, all you had to do was ask.”

Your jaw went slack. “I- No! I wasn’t staring- You...” Try and deny it as you might, you knew that was a lie, and the words died in your throat.

Asra's hand, which was resting on the spine of the grimoire, snaked around your waist. He pushed you up against the bookshelf in an effortless and relaxed manner, aligning his lips with yours. After kissing you deeply for a brief period of time, Asra withdrew his supple lips away from yours, gently chuckling, and stepped back towards his potions like that was nothing.

You remained there aghast, your reaction to what he meant by habit delayed. Realization struck you. “Oh my god, you knew I’ve been watching you?!”