#i’m saying this because i’m crying in my section right now. kind of embarrassing

[nangua]

throwback to when my mom said “even when i was a poor starving student in the philippines i didn’t cry as much as you”

[slavicviking]

In the mood for some delicious miscommunicatio trope for steddie so here we are >:) part 1 of ??

wc: 1281

tags: friends with benefits, requitted unrequitted love, idiot4idiot

Love sucks.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You’re supposed to have my back, Robin,” Steve sighs and slumps against the counter.

“I do have your back,” she replies with a light pat on the shoulder. “I am, though, going to ask you to stop moping over the counter, dingus. I just wiped it down a moment ago.”

“That’s so rude. Maybe crying over this counter is exactly what I need right now, you know?”

“Don’t. The stench of boy-desperation is going to seep in.”

Steve snorts. At least with Robin here the Monday morning shift is not so overwhelmingly, mind-numbingly boring. There’s only so many times Steve can reorganize the backroom, trying not to think about, well, The Situation.

Robin hands him a small packet of skittles from a bowl as peace-offering. If they’re lucky Keith will never notice. “Okay, but, really – I think you should consider it.”

“It’s not that easy, Rob,” he sighs, wincing when the customer bell sounds from the doors, even more when he sees who it is.

“Howdy,” Eddie greets them before diving straight into the horror section of the store. Steve sees Robin follow him with her eyes, her lips pulled down at the corners. He knows that look and though he appreciates her feeling protective over him, Steve is past his need or desire for any sort of escalating drama, especially within a group as tightly-knit as the Party. His hand lands in hers under the counter and squeezes.

Eddie comes back around ten minutes later, a video tape in hand. The plain T-shirt and the usual ripped jeans don’t look like much but Steve still finds it too magnetic to look away.

“The Shining?” Steve quirks an eyebrow. “A bit too mainstream for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s a classic, Stevie,” Eddie grins before leaning closer, twirling a lock of hair between his fingers, and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d say Eddie looked nervous. Which - ridiculous. Nothing to be nervous about, not in Eddie’s case anyway.  “Actually, I was wondering. I mean, it is a classic, right? Already mentioned that, um. But we could watch it together. If you’d like. No pressure, or anything.”

Before Steve can reply, the bell over the doors rings again and in a flurry of motions a chipper blonde runs up to the counter of Family Video, a dimpled smile plastered over her face. Jenna, if Steve recalls correctly – Robin’s year.

“Hi, Steve!” she greets loudly, hair pulled up in a high ponytail bouncing up and down. “I didn’t know you worked here. I mean, I did, I’ve been here before. Breakfast Club, remember? Anyway, after the earthquake I kind of thought you’d jump the ship. I mean, I would, but parents, you know?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve blinks. “Guess I stayed.”

“Glad you did,” Jenna giggles, slim fingers just barely grazing over Steve’s arm. Enough to cause goosebumps. “Anyway, I’m here to return Fast Times for my brother. He was supposed to but he’s apparently too busy with basketball.”

Steve knows how this conversation should go, would have gone a few months ago, probably. He would ask about her brother and basketball, throw in a quip or two, maybe flex his arms, wink. It would work perfectly, too. And Jenna – she’s sweet, all dimples and cute skirts, colorful ribbons in her hair. She’s everything he should want right now – something easy and stable and realistic. But he can’t help but let his eyes drift to Eddie, how quiet he has gotten all of a sudden, maybe stressed about Jenna and the jock crowd she usually falls into; maybe because she feels eerily similar to how Chrissy used to be. Who knows.

In the end Steve just smiles politely and tells Jenna the fee to pay in a manner so robotic King Steve would cower in embarrassment at the mere sight. She looks miffed but it doesn’t deter her completely because she slips him a piece of paper with a poignant look shot Robin’s way. As if Robin was her greatest competition. Turn around, a little bit to the left, and there you’ll have it – the reason Steve Harrington is off the market.

Not that Eddie knows. Or will ever know.

The boundaries he set were pretty clear, Steve gets it.

“Did you see The Look?” Robin snickers next to him once Jenna’s gone and he can’t help but snort because, sure, Steve did have a crush on Robin very briefly what feels like ages ago, but by now the idea of them ever being considered a romantic couple is just laughable. Eddie, though, stays silent, eyebrows dropped low and eyes glued to the door.

Steve decides to bite the bullet.

“I’m game, you know.” Eddie shots him a perplexed look and he feels a hot wave of embarrassment wash over him swiftly. It’s clear Eddie hasn’t given the invitation much thought, maybe didn’t even really mean it in the first place but wanted to be polite. “You know, for, uh, The Shining.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, that,” Eddie shrugs, shoulders rising almost to his ears. “You can come. If you want.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Eddie doesn’t linger after that, leaving Family Video with much less vigor than when he entered. Maybe that’s Steve’s effect on people, he muses as he dumps the slip with Jenna’s number into the bin in the backroom. The Steve Experience is an intense one, as he has been notified of before.

“So. What the hell was that?” Robin pokes him in the arm, nails surprisingly sharp and painful.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Steve sighs. “He hates me. Fuck.”

“He doesn’t, dingus, I promise you,” Robin slings her arm across his chest and leans against his back. Steve loves her so much. “But he’s being super weird. I mean, my guess would be that he got jealous, honestly-“

“You know it isn’t like that. It’s just sex, he said so himself.”

And, okay, so. The Situation.

The weeks following Vecna’s attempt at world-domination royally sucked ass. The NDAs, the nightmares and all-encompassing fear – that Steve knows, that he can deal with on most days. Physical therapy was a nicely added new feature, it at least spiced things up a little. It’s also how Steve and Eddie ended up spending a lot of time together. Becoming friends with Eddie was surprisingly easy, falling for him – a slippery slope.

It's Eddie that suggested their little arrangement and it’s Eddie that has been vocal since the beginning that it’s nothing more than hooking up – blowing off steam, as he once called it. Happened only a handful times, too, and only after one or the other couldn’t sleep because of nightmares. So, really, it’s on Steve to get so attached to an idea that exists only in his own head.

Before they close up, Robin taps him on the shoulder. “You deserve better, Steve, okay? Someone who cares. Just – think about it.”

A slip of paper with a number finds its way into his pocket, second one today but first for a boy; some guy that Robin met via a mutual friend – Dorothy, or whatever. It weighs on his mind the whole drive to the trailer park but the moment Eddie opens the door, it really doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

For once, Steve wants to be in control. And with Eddie looking at his mouth the way he is, Steve feels wanted, desired, however illusory that really is. The kiss grows heated once they enter the trailer but the second he lays Eddie on the couch, a pair of hands pushes him away gently.

“We shouldn’t,” Eddie pants. “We- I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Fuck.

part 2??

[myndless88]

I'm curious about Who To Choose and Random story. 😁

So, I just realized that 'Random story' is actually completed. But I'll talk about it anyway. Both stories are fanfics mainly involving myself in a romantic relationship with my ultimate Korean pop bias, Shim Changmin.

'Who To Choose' is supposed to be about Changmin and I (as Changmin's personal assistant and growing love interest) going to Japan for a while for his activities. While there, I meet Junnosuke Taguchi--a member of popular Japanese pop group KAT-TUN (and my ultimate Jpop bias in real life). I start having feelings for him as well as ones for Changmin, so I don't know who to choose. It's basically supposed to be one of those love triangle things where both guys are trying to compete for the love of the girl. I just checked my file for this, and I haven't even gotten to Japan yet! ^^;; Here's a section:

The shrieks of hundreds of fangirls echoed in the large terminal as I tried to keep up with the envoy of staff, security, and the person I was assigned to work for.  On either side of me were the excited faces of girls ranging from their early teens to around my age kept away only by aisle separators.  They were screaming for one man who was further up front, but could easily stand out because of his tall, beautiful figure.  He was the man that I’m to personally assist, but also whom I’m completely smitten over.  This man is one fifth of super famous South Korean male group, Dong Bang Shin Ki: Shim Changmin.

The 'Random story' is basically me coming back to S. Korea after being away for several months. While on my way, my flight makes a short stop in Japan where I meet Junnosuke at the airport. Then it's back in the air to my destination. Upon my arrival in S. Korea, I'm greeted by Changmin. We head my unoccupied apartment, have small conversations, have a "special night", he asks me to marry him , and then BAM! I wake up on the plane that just landed in S. Korea. All of it was a dream. So now I'm disappointed. I head back to my unoccupied apartment, run into Chagnmin there, we have small conversations, I tell him about my dream, he finds it kind of wild that I'd dream something like that but doesn't call it a total loss, he presents me the same ring in my dream, asks me to marry him, I say yes, and we have our "special night". It's all real this time, lol. Here's two sections:

“Maddie-ah, there’s something bothering you.  I just know it.  Normally you’re complaining to me about everything, so why is this time any different?”  “…It’s a rather silly reason.” “Try me,” he challenged.  I sighed and pushed out of his embrace.  I told him to take a seat, so we sat on the living room couch.  From there I explained my dream in ‘very’ minor detail, but I still couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.  Judging from the look on Changmin’s face, he was a little taken aback as well.  Man, sometimes I hated being too honest.  “S-See?  It’s just a silly dream I had…” I said, looking away from him.                 “Well, that is a very…interesting dream,” he said, a little astonishment in his voice.  I looked down in shame.  “However, I wouldn’t exactly call it a total loss…” he muttered.

“This…this isn’t a dream, right?  This time…it’s real, right?” I asked, trying so hard not to cry like a baby.  He smiled and nodded slowly. “It’s not a dream this time, Maddie-ah.  I want to marry you.  I love you.”  I couldn’t hold them in any longer, and I just cried and cried.  Changmin seated himself next to me, leaned in to hug me tightly, and I cried into his chest.  He rubbed my back to help me calm down.  When I reduced my cries to just little sniffles, he took the ring out of the box and took hold of my left ring finger.  He glided the ring on it, and looked up at me with the sweetest smile.  Almost knowing what each other wanted, we both leaned in for a kiss.  It was just as mind-blowing as in my dreams.  After several minutes we broke for air, both of our faces flush.  “There is…one more part to your dream that has yet to be fulfilled, ne?” he hesitantly asked.  At first I was a little confused, but then I realized what he was talking about.  I blushed feverously. “A-Ah, yeah.”  “Well, then…” he began, as he picked me up bridal style off the couch, “would I be asking too much in one night if we could, you know, fulfill that part of your dream?”  I blushed so hard that I felt like I would self-combust at any given moment.  But regardless, I nodded my head in approval. 

Looking back at these stories, I have to chuckle because you can definitely tell they were written by a 22 year old with a huge crush on her favorite celebrities. I even used Japanese/Korean words in place of English ones: "Yatta!" ("hooray!") or "Mianhae" ("Sorry") for example. But those were what was popular back then, and it's the only time I've done self-insert. In fact, the first five fanfics listed in the WIP game are all kind of like that.

Thank you for finding those two titles intriguing! And, to top it off, here are pics of my Kpop and Jpop biases (Changmin on the left and Junnosuke on the right)!

Ask me about my WIPs

[selkies-song]

CW: general family drama bs, alcoholism, emotional manipulation, etc please feel free to scroll by, I just need to dump this latest load of crap into the void. So my brother and I got to our cousin’s funeral services early Saturday morning. 

Our parents’ truck was there but we didn’t see them right away in the main hall. We said hello to our various aunts and uncles and our grandfather and what not. They all were friendly enough. Parents and obscure adult cousin(?) that mom is latched on to for the moment come in just as the services start. They sit down. Mom is right next to me. The room gets quiet as the pastor goes to the front. Mom suddenly says “I love you”. Loudly. Twice. Much to many folks’ obvious confusion. I ask her who she’s talking to, because it was just really bizarre. My aunt. She was saying it to my aunt (her little sister) who is in an entirely different section of seating and apparently not speaking to her for the time being (can’t imagine why /s).  Cue some waterworks because I reacted awkwardly to this behavior. And then more mewling when I didn’t respond favorably to her juvenile jab at a completely different aunt’s hairstyle.  At one point she outright asks if I’m embarrassed by her. I hesitantly told her I was. Something something “that’s okay because you’ve never been in this kind of situation” something something...because of course the reason I can’t empathize is because I am capable of having a healthy relationship with my siblings, and that I don’t feel the need to use someone’s funeral as an opportunity to engage in petty high school bullshit. The problem couldn’t possibly be her /s Then the reception comes and we sit together and here’s my brother and I trying to have a normal conversation with our parents. Mom keeps roadblocking said conversation with random, insecure outbursts about her siblings interacting with each other in other parts of the room and “how dare aunt so-and-so not speak to me, she owes me an apology for x thing that happened at least 5 years ago now, blah blah blah.” Every time this happens we all just sit in awkward silence for a bit. Eventually we give up trying to hold a conversation, and then mom leaves for ‘some air’ (code: to go smoke and sulk in the truck). We hang back to start cleaning up. In her absence, our aunts and uncles come over to chit chat and say some goodbyes. This is something of a relief as it seems like maybe they aren’t holding her behavior against the rest of us, anymore.  Obscure cousin suddenly comes in asking where mom is because they can’t find her. I go out to the parking lot. The truck is gone. At this point I am livid/freaking out because my first thought is that she’s gone to get smashed, as this is a move she’s been pulling for at least the last year. And frankly she probably shouldn’t be driving anyways because if she isn’t drunk, she’s usually on something else. 

I go back in and tell dad that she’s taken the truck and gone somewhere. My dad--who is typically quiet and gentle--cursed and threw the plastic utensil he was using to scrape spilled chocolate off the counter. I honestly thought he was going to start crying. I make sure he’s okay and then I go back outside to call her.

I leave a message threatening that if she comes back smelling like alcohol, I am never speaking to her again.  She comes back apparently fine. With a drink (that I took a sip up to verify it was just soda), claiming she just went for a drive to blow off steam. In fact, she’s almost outright giddy for the rest of the afternoon. Because she got a reaction out of us, if I had to guess. We met her and dad at a diner for HER birthday Sunday morning. She smelled of alcohol. Y’all, it was 8:30 AM. At least she showed up, I guess.  I sincerely wish he’d leave her. This isn’t fair. She’s never going to change and she’s going to kill him at this rate and it just isn’t fair. 

My father deserves so much better than this.

[drewandareview]

Reaction Videos

Originally published January 30th, 2016

I don’t think I could really decry the concept of the “reaction”.  For the uninitiated, a reaction is a new thing where somebody offers their reaction to something they’ve experienced.  You might think “Hasn’t this existed since the beginning of human civilization?” and the answer is absofuckinglutely.  Some might even refer to a “reaction” as a “review”, which it literally is.  I could call this blog “Drew and a Reaction” and it would essentially be the same thing, minus fun rhyming.

There is a distinction to the reaction phenomenon picking up popularity, however.  It usually involves “live” reactions, as in, seeing what people think of something right as they experience it.  It’s also almost always in video format.  While this still isn’t a new concept, it’s fair enough to say that its popularity in this specific format is.

Now while I can’t hate on the idea of reactionary review (because this Drew and a Review project has participated in this exact kind of reviewing several times), I can say that the recent popularity of reaction videos has incited some speculation as to whether or not they can go too far.  I recall watching somebody put out a very personal blog called “My Abuse Story”.  I could have written a whole review on that if there were very much to say other than “A girl probably abused a guy, actively denied it, and still has a very popular YouTube channel.”  It’s fascinating, frustrating, and heartbreaking that people like that exist.  That’s about all I had to say on it.

Other people apparently had a lot more to say about it:

That doesn’t even scratch the surface.  I mean, I guess I get it.  This is a very dramatic story and I can understand it inspiring a lot of thoughts.  This is also a public video being reacted to so it’s not too personal to talk about.  It’s not wrong for people to have vicarious experiences either.  In fact, this is a lot like a video version of a comments section.  I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point in the future, a comments section could feature actual videos.  It’s kind of cool to think about.

But as open-minded as I try to be, it’s still a little weird, and I think I’ll credit that to this guy: 

This is what I saw pop up in “related videos” when I was watching the original video and immediately I thought this guy was a fucking twerp.  I have a kneejerk reaction to assume that anyone using an emoticon is not being sincere, which comes from an (inaccurate) assumption that people who use overused and uninspiring things such as emoticons are stupid, and that stupid people aren’t smart enough to be sincere.  I had to calm myself down... No, maybe this guy was legitimately sad and just expressed it in a way that made me have to swallow an aneurysm.  And so... I decided to watch this video.

I hated it.  I’d like to highlight some of the dialogue.  In italics are lines from the original video.  In quotes are the responses our beloved Reaction Time host had to them.

My name’s Matthew Santoro.  “Yes.”

I’ve decided to make a video discussing something that I never thought I would discuss publicly.  “Power to you, brother.”

It’s embarrassing.  “Oh shit.”

It’s not something people ever talk about.  “Yeah.”  (Note: At this point, guy in original video is in tears.  And as far as I know, Reaction Time guy has not seen this video and has no idea what he’s actually saying “yeah” to.)

I didn’t expect this... At all.  To be honest, I didn’t think I was gonna get emotional at all; I thought that *sniff* I thought that I’d--I’m--I’m tough now, I dealt with this, it’s... I thought it’s something that--I’ve buried deep, and w--I would never talk about again.  But I feel compelled to because...  “Wow, he must be really hurt.  He’s crying on--camera.”  (Note: Reaction Time guy said this immediately over the line where guy in video informed that he had been in an abusive relationship.)

I pretty much stopped watching there.  This “reaction video”?  It was a mistake.  It was a fucking waste of time, waste of life, waste of resources.  It makes me tempted to denounce all reaction videos.  But I can’t.  Because...

I AM CURRENTLY REACTING TO A REACTION.

There’s gotta be something to this.  Even if my transcription of this reaction video and my commentary on this reaction video hasn’t personally entertained you, it’s personally entertained me.  So not only is there a place for reactions, but a place for reactions of reactions, and possibly reactions to that and... I’d say to infinity but honestly the reactions wouldn’t get much mileage after a while because there’d be too many things getting overlapped.  Also, infinity is hard to grasp.  I want you to remember that I said that.

So I confess, I think that there’s a point to reaction videos!  A value even!  Why is it, then, that I see them pop up on YouTube and feel so frustrated?  I imagine I’m not alone here.  And I also imagine I’m not alone in that I can read a newspaper review for a movie in theaters and feel completely fine, or read a review of a product online and feel totally okay.  What is it about reaction videos specifically that are so aggravating to see?

I think I know why, and I want to illustrate something for you.  Picture your local movie theater.  It’s probably playing all the latest releases, things such as that.  Picture one of those movies.  It’s titled __________.  Now I want you to picture reading a review of __________ online, or even seeing a video review on YouTube.  No problems yet, right?  Everything’s fine?

Now I want you to picture a review of __________ being in video form, and being two hours long.  If is seems impossible that someone could review a movie for that long, just take it from me (and my multiple movie reviews that have exceeded two hours) that it is not.  Now I want you to picture that video review playing at the same movie theater that __________ is.  Both __________ and __________ REVIEW are playing in the exact same theater.

Now I want you to picture that __________ REVIEW is not alone.  There are many reviewers that have distinct opinions on this movie, and they have all submitted video reviews in the two hour ballpark.  And they are all available to watch at this movie theater.  You can see __________, or you can see HappyJack97′s __________ REVIEW, or you can see The Quiet Inquirer’s __________ REVIEW, or you can see Daring Darren’s __________ REVIEW, and so on, and so on... 

I imagine at this point, you’re finally starting to feel pretty annoyed.  Why?  Well the local movie theater is getting overrun by all these reviews!  This is the space that’s supposed to be reserved for watching actual movies, and here there’s a bunch of reviews existing in the same space!  It starts to feel like people are pushing your movies out in favor for TALKING about the movies, and that starts to feel incredibly stupid and pointless.

I think reaction videos on YouTube annoy us for the same reason.  When reaction videos are to things outside of YouTube, such as the latest awesome album that came out, I don’t think it’s as maddening.  But if reaction videos talk about other videos you can find on YouTube, then your space is getting cluttered.  The same space where you could go to find a regular YouTube video is where you can go to find a reaction to it.

Why does this get annoying, though?  There’s a ton of space on YouTube!  There’s room for everything!  This is true, but as I said before (HEY DO YOU KNOW WHAT I’M ABOUT TO BRING UP?), infinity is hard to grasp.  And as humans, when we see reaction videos in our YouTube space, we begin to think that YouTube is filling up with reaction videos and as a result, there’s less room for other videos.  And I imagine most people would prefer regular videos to reaction videos, so this becomes upsetting.

Strangely, though, I think just being reminded that infinity exists will help us calm down to these reaction videos.  Yeah, they’re around, but there’s room for them.  Reaction videos won’t be a real problem as long as there’s room for them.  In movie theaters, that might be a problem (which is why I would not expect to ever find one of my two-hour reviews playing at your local theater).  But on the Internet?  We’re gonna be okay.  Come on guys, let’s not...

...

...

...overreact.

[duskvsdawn]

MLQC Fanfic - Gavin X Reader Smut

AN: I’m still figuring this whole “posting on tumblr thing out”. I kind of have to combine using my pc with mobile, because for some reason I can’t add mature tags on desktop and the “read more” section seems to move around when you post between pc and mobile... Bear with me! If anyone can tell me how to add a mature tag to my post on desktop, and make the “read more” section stay in the same place on both desktop and mobile, I would really appreciate it!

CW: Alcohol use, mentions of feeling depressed, and sex obviously. I think that’s about it.

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

You lay on your couch, curled up into a ball. You left work early because you fainted and felt sick. Your boss told you to go home and get some rest. So now you’re lying there, feeling embarrassed and like a failure. You decide to watch some tv to try and get your mind off of things.

“One week off of work. I guess I really needed a break after all. Gavin warned me so many times already to do that. I’m just not like that.” You say to yourself with a sigh.

 As you browse through the channels, you eventually find one with cooking shows and such. You love watching that stuff. As you watch the chef cut different products with skill and explain all kinds of tips and tricks, you start dozing off.

“Hey [y/n], I’m home!”

Gavin’s home, it seems. It woke you up.

“Where are you honey?” He asks as he walks in to the kitchen, usually seeing you there around this time.

“I’m here…” You meekly answer as you roll yourself up into your blanket.

“Hey honey, didn’t expect to see you here. Hey what’s wrong?” He asks as he notices your unusual sad face.

“Nothing, it’s fine.” You answer as you make room for him to sit next to you.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not fine. What’s up, come on tell me.”

“I… I got sent home for a week for a break.”

“Is that so… What happened?” He asks, thoughtfully.

“I fainted right before a meeting. When I woke up I felt sick.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but I told you so baby.” He says with a sweet smile as he puts your head onto his lap, gently stroking your hair.

“I know… I know… So I guess I have a sort of vacation now.”

“You really needed one. You’ve been working nonstop for months now. I barely got to see you anymore.”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok baby. Well, I don’t have anything scheduled for this weekend so we can just chill and relax. Doesn’t that sound nice for a change? The two of us, doing nothing special and just have some us-time.”

“That does sound nice…” You say as you entangle your hand in his, softly kissing it.

“How about I make dinner for a change? Or would you prefer some take-out?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Come on honey, its dinner time, you need some food.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t cook today…” You whisper as you feel tears welling up in your eyes, feeling like even more of a disappointment.

“Ssshh, it’s alright baby.” Gavin says as he pulls you into a hug.

 And then the two of you just sit there for a while. You can’t help the tears that are flowing at this point, all the built up emotions finally escaping. And Gavin just hugs you, kisses you and shushes you to calm you down. After a little while, you feel a little better.

 “Why does crying make people so hungry?” You suddenly ask through your tears, which are getting less and less now.

“Not sure. Feeling any better?” He asks as he wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Yeah… Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Just being here I guess.”

“Anytime, sweetie. What do we got in the fridge? I’ll make some dinner.”

“There’s some leftovers from yesterday we could eat if you want.”

“I meant actually cooking, but fine with me.” Gavin says as he gets up, kisses you on the forehead and disappears into the kitchen.

 You just sit there on the couch, rolled into your blanket, thinking about how strange life can be. How did you ever get lucky enough to even hook up with Gavin in the first place? He is way too sweet for this world. Drowned in your thoughts, you are suddenly snapped back to reality as a hand waves in front of your face.

 “A penny for your thoughts.” Gavin says with a chuckle as he puts down two plates and utensils.

“Huh, what? Oh.” You say sheepishly as you take your plate and quietly start eating.

“Are you alright? You still seem out of it.”

“Ah, give it a day… I’ll be fine.”

“Alright sweetheart.” Gavin answers as he kisses you on your cheek, browsing through the channels on tv.

 “So…”

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“Is it bad that I kind of feel like drinking tonight?”

“I can’t blame you. Do we still have anything in the house?”

“Not sure.”

“Hold on.” Gavin says as he walks over the liquor cabinet.

 “We still have some vodka and whiskey. Wouldn’t want to drink them mixed though.” He says with a chuckle as he brings over the vodka and two glasses, knowing that’s your favorite drink.

“Yeah, that’d be bad.” You say as you finish your dinner, filling up your glass.

“Don’t try to overdo it, for your sake.” Gavin warns you, worried about your previous struggles with alcohol.

“I’m sorry, I can’t promise anything tonight.” You answer as you quickly take a big sip, coughing at the burn in your throat.

“Guess I’ll just have to take care of you then. Not that I mind…” He says as he fills up a glass for himself and pulls you into a hug on the couch, blankly watching tv.

“Hmm… Gavin?”

“Yes, [y/n]?”

“What have I ever done to deserve you? Why are you with me when there are so many other cute girls out there?” You ask as you take another sip.

“Well, because I love you, silly.”

“That’s not what I mean. Why do you love me?”

“Hmm, let’s see. You always care a lot for others, you are very honest… And you’re just a damaged person trying to make the best of her life, and I admire your constant courage to go on. Those are a few of the reasons.”

“Oh…”

“Not the answer you expected?” He asks as a takes a sip of his drink.

“Not really, no.”

“Well, too bad. It’s the truth.” He says as he puts down his glass, pulling you into a kiss.

“I- Mmm!”

“I just really wanted to do that.” Gavin says with a dark chuckle as he casually takes another sip.

 And the two of you just sit there for a while, cuddling, drinking, watching tv. After what feels like an hour, you put down your glass and pull him into a hug.

 “Honey, what are you doing?” He asks you as he puts down his glass, about as tipsy as you are.

“I just…” You finally say in a whisper as you hide your face in his neck.

“Something wrong?” He asks as he softly strokes your head.

“I’m just… I think I’m getting horny.”

“Is that so?” He asks with a husky voice as he moves your hair out of the way to kiss your neck.

“A-ah… N-no… Not there…” You whimper.

“Don’t be like that. I know how sensitive this spot is. As I’ve kissed it millions of times. And I’d love to kiss it a million times more.” He says in a low whisper against your red glowing ear.

“A-Ah! Gavin! Stop being so fucking romantic.” You say in a sweet moan as you wrap your arms around him, basically pressing your body into his.

 For a moment, he stops and looks at you. His eyes seem to mirror what you feel right now. Love and lust. Deep desire to please the other. You can’t help but just slam your lips on to his and kiss him for what feels like ages. You move your hands under his shirt to touch his warm skin as he starts doing the same to you. He quickly undoes your bra to touch the naked skin of your breasts, gently pinching your nipples.

 “G-Gavin… I want you… Please...” You beg him with a soft moan as your wrap your arms around his neck.

“Mmm, I’d love to. Hold on to me.” He says as he moves to pick you up bridal style.

 You tighten your grip on his neck for support as he carries you up the stairs. He carries you into the bedroom, softly laying you down on the bed. He then lays next to you, pulling you into a hug and kissing you. The kissing soon enough changes into a full-blown heated make-out session. Clothes disappear every now and then. He then pulls you into another hug.

 “I fucking love you.” He finally says as he kisses your cheek.

“I love you too… Please… Show me how much you love me.” You beg him in a desperate whisper, wanting nothing more than him inside you right now.

“Don’t worry love, I will.” He says as he moves in between your legs.

“Please… I need you.” You say as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you.

“I need you more. And I need you now.” He says as he slowly pushes inside of you, pulling your upper body up so he can hug you properly.

“S-shit!” You his as your body adjusts to his size, burying your face in his neck, smelling his scent.

“Are you alright baby?” He asks worriedly as he kisses your cheek.

“Y-yeah… I’m fine… It just feels so good to have you inside of me. It’s been too long…” You say with a happy sigh as you kiss him.

“It has been. Is it ok to move?” He asks as he entangles one of his hands in your hair.

“Please do. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Me neither. I love you.” He says as he starts thrusting his hips.

“A-ah! I love y-you too!” You moan as you instantly feel in utter bliss, your body enjoying all of him after such a long time.

 For the first time, the sex between you two feels more focused on the love for each other than the sheer lust. Since it has been so long that the two of you had sex, all the two of you tell each other is how much you love them. But of course that wouldn’t last forever. After a while, you want more. Your body demands more friction.

 “G-Gavin! Please! More!” You beg him, shivering and whimpering in his arms.

“Anything for you babe.” He says in a low growl as he speeds up, deepening his thrusts as well.

“S-shit! Oh my god! I needed this so fucking much! Oh god, yes!” You moan out loud as you tighten your grip on him.

“You feel so goddamn good… Fuck…” He hisses as he leaves love bites along your neck and shoulders.

“S-so good!”

“I love you so fucking much.” Gavin growls as he moves you slightly in his lap, his pelvis now rubbing against your clit as well.

“A-ah! G-Gavin! If you keep this up, I’m… I’m…”

“Are you getting close, love?”

“Y-yes! S-so close!” You whimper as you feel the familiar pressure build up in your lower body.

“Wait for me baby… I’m close too…” He answers in a low moan, then proceeding to slam his lips onto yours.

“I can’t hold it!” You beg as you break the kiss to take a breath.

“Me neither… Cum for me sweetheart.” Gavin whispers into your ear, this instantly sends you over the edge.

“A-ah! Gavin!” You scream out as you orgasm, digging your nails into his skin.

“Damn, [y/n]… I’m gonna… Oh fuck!” Gavin growls as he releases inside of you.

 “Hah… Hah… Oh gosh…” You finally manage to bring out as you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“That… I needed that.” Gavin whispers as he kisses you while he pulls out, moving to lay you down.

He then lays down next to you and pulls you into a hug.

“Mmm… Me too…” You whisper as you move strand of hair away from his forehead that is now stuck down with sweat.

“And now, let’s sleep.” He says as he pulls the blanket onto you both, then moving back to hug you.

“Mmm, good plan.” You say as you lay your head close to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I love you sweetheart.” He whispers as he kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too…” You answer with a happy sigh as you tighten your grip on him.

 Soon enough, you drift off to sleep.

[arcadejohn127-9]

ALSO- I have a request! Brothers (+royals if you want) reacting to an MC who is extremely affectionate once they like someones- gives hugs, praises often, gives gifts, does their best to help when they can- but if any of this affection is returned they cry. Hard. Because they're emotionally constipated and any affection or love they receive overwhelms them- this also embarrasses them extremely-

Damn.... didn't think I'd feel called out by a prompt request XD it seems my time has come!

I'm guessing royals are Diavolo and barbatos so I added them but if you ever request again and someone you wanted wasn't here, feel free to comment and I'll make sure to add them

Brothers + Diavolo & barbatos with an overly affection MC with issues

Lucifer:

He grew use to your affection ways

The words of praise when you notice he finished a work load

Or when you'd pat his head when he was tired

At first he wondered why you would handle or touch him likes he's a fragile doll but he grew to love how gentle you were

Subconsciously he'd lean his head down whenever he completed a task expecting a head pat

Even if you weren't there but if he's caught he'll just pretend he was tired

Lucifer wasn't always the most affectionate, especially as he rarely shows how much he genuinely loves the people around them

He decided to return the gesture, you recently got a high grade in a class you were struggling in

He patted your head, giving it a light ruffle

"You did good, you're improving alot - it's very promising."

Didn't expect you to start crying, aggressively shoving away your tears

"what's wrong? Did something-"

"I just- this is embarassing- you patted my head and people don't really do that for me and I just-"

"Ah, I see, then I shall do it more often."

"even in public?"

He was never a public man, wanting to get his softer side hidden in the protection of his soul and the walls surrounding his room

But here you were, crying because he simply caressed your cheek

He wants you to be happy and feel as loved as he does

So he'll happily push his walls down for you

"if it means this much to you, then yes but let's keep it appropriate."

Mammon:

"How's my handsome super model?! Did it go well? Aww you look tired, let's get you rested, okay?"

He's so in love

No one has ever made him feel this mooshy and love sick and he's ANCIENT

He's use to his brothers always insulting him - he likes a good tease and making a rude remark about each other but they tend to push it

They hit his Insecurities and think he can handle it because they're demons

But he wasn't always

Then you came along, giving him head pats and words of praise

Always standing up for him

He fell for you so quickly and so hard

He basically turns into a puppy when he's with you

When you left with Satan to get groceries he had to be forced to not go with you, waiting at the stairs for you to come back

As soon as Satan left with even your bags included, he came bolting for you

Leaping into your arms and squeezed you tight, insisting he didn't miss you but just got bored

The way he's nuzzling your cheek says otherwise

When you began crying he immediately panicked

"Did Satan do something to ya?! I swear I'll beat-"

"I'm just not use to others being as affectionate as I am back to me - it's okay."

"Huh?! Well I guess the greatest demon of all time has to be that person, that's me! Don't forget it, okay?! I'm going to smother you."

Mammon is already a touchy person but knows to be respectful, since that day his hands are always on you

Either holding your hand, touching your shoulder, petting your hair or just Hugging you

Levithan:

Levithan isn't one to give or receive when it comes to affection

He tends to get overwhelmed by just a head pat and gets embarassed if his fingers accidentally brush against yours

You're an overly affectionate person

He's a simple man who needs self worth

It's definitely a good duo

You've learned to be more vocal about your praises and affections, still testing the waters with physical touch

But from time to time he'll ask to get a head pat if he's really proud of himself

Has made you call him your little pog champ

"Levi are you- oh sorry you're streaming- I'll just leave these here."

He was confused until he saw the section dish filled with different snacks with a energy drink in the middle

He almost teared up

"No! Stay with me, they'll like you!"

In an act of no thoughts and boldness, he pulled you into his lap

You fell awkwardly and was half straddling half on his side

As soon as you got comfortable you hide your face In his neck forcing back tears

Not wanting to cry on stream

"You're so sweet, levi, I'm sure your followers can agree."

He literally short circuited

Hiding his face in your shoulder as he got flustered

"You're sweeter than me, you're always being nice to me - I really lo- like you for that."

Anyone who watched that stream now ships you - the non believers didn't believe all the stories he told about you but now they had physical proof

That stream was re-upload so many times with comps filled with him gushing about you

Levithan is determined to make sure you never see them but it's too late and you cried with joy in your room

Next time you saw him you kissed his cheek and he immediately melted

Did kiss your cheek back though but did it so quick and harsh that you stumbled backwards

Satan:

Someone being gentle to him????

Someone who doesn't keep away from his because of his sin????

Who??? What??!!

You're the who! he was SHOCKED you were so happy to get close to him and just treat him so kindly

He made a theory on the Devildom detectives group that you're actually an angel but it backfired by demons just telling him he's got feelings for you

He does but he didn't expect to get called out on a whole forum

"You're really smart, thanks for always helping me with my studies - I've found It alot easier to study and remember all my notes now, you're a good teacher!"

He's so smitten with you

You could be saying the most disgusting or insulting thing and he'd still smile and nod

He needed help getting food for this secret but really not so secret pet cat and you gladly accepted to help him

When you two were just spending time together in his room and when suddenly picked up his cat

You didn't think too much of it but grinned when he booped the cats nose onto yours

"thank you for being so kind to me- it means alot."

the cat was like you; overly affectionate so it didn't surprise you when it started gently pawing at your face and giving you little kisses

"I feel embarrassed by admitting this so I'm letting Chaos show how I feel."

He avoided looking at you

It would be for the best as you started crying, taking the cat from his hold and kissing it's head repeatedly

"and that's how I feel about you trying to move through your discomfort and be open with me."

His cheeks are BURNING

Holds your hand throughout the rest of the hang out

Asmodeus:

You're being gentle and affection despite Everyone perceiving him as a sex hungry annoyance?

You're immediately his favourite - sorry Solomon

You always understood his protectiveness over his appearance

Fixing his hair and pushing back stands if you ever pet it

You didn't need to but you always told him you washed your hands before touching his face

You always did these simple things to make him feel at ease

But he loved your touch

No matter any comment he makes; he adores you and just being able to have these tender moments with you

He knew you were special to him when you walked in on him

Barely awake, hair messy, no makeup or moisturizer - he didn't look even the slightest bit appealing

And just smiled, looking at him no differently even when his voice came out tired and croaky

"You're really pretty even when you just wake up, it's so unfair - what's your secret?"

"because it's me, darling! I always look good~"

Internally, he was freaking out about how you liked him at what he deemed - his most unattractive state

So it only made sense he became more touchy and grew closer to you

"are you sure I look good in this? I know you're very up to date with fashion."

"You look stunning, I haven't seen a bad look on you yet, perhaps your charm is just as high as mine."

He was holding your hips, smiling as you both looked in the mirror

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning on your shoulder

"I think you look good all the time, you're just amazing like that."

You tried to hide your tears but he could see them, immediately asking you what's wrong

"Nothing- I just- that means alot coming from you and you're always being so affection towards me....its really nice."

He just hugs you tighter, smiling

"I just treat you how you treat me, you're a real angel."

Beezlebub:

This guy is worried about so many things

He's scared of hurting you

He's worried if he gets carried away with touching you he'll make you uncomfortable and his gluttony will act up; wanting more of your tender touch until he feels full

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable or you feel forced to be affectionate to him because he could throw a fit

He's always ashamed of his hunger tantrums

But when he does do affection it's either carrying you or holding your hand

But was so happy whenever you cuddled hi against him or when you gave him praise

He could spend the whole day with you running your fingers through his hair, telling him he's a good demon and that he means something to you

"Can you finish this for me? I'm not feeling that hungry right now."

You offered your bowl to Beel, he happily took it

As you two spent time with each other he noticed you eyeing some of the more sweeter things set out on the table

He gently pushed it towards you

"Eat if you want it, I'll share."

You waved your hand, not wanting to take food from him

"I'm just snack-ish, I can't eat a meal right now."

You knew how hungry he could get and didn't want to leave him peckish

You knew that small feeling could easily turn into something bigger

But he just nudged it closer to you

"You eat what you want, I'll have what you don't finish."

You finally agreed, knowing he was insisting on you to eat with him

He patted your head, smiling as he watched you eat

"are you sure you won't still feel hungry?"

"you make me feel full, it soothes another type of hunger in me, it's nice."

He grabbed your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it, he couldn't stop smiling as you just looked at him in surprise

You finally grinned, tearing up and shook your head, you leaned against him and continued eating

Gripping his hand tighter as you pushed back your tears

Belphegor:

He was spoilt

Beel was always looking after him, helping him get ready for school and drying his hair, carrying him around when he was too tired to walk

And you were only fueling his spoilt nature

You always showered him in affection

Petting his hair whilst he laid his head on your lap, combed his tail, told him he looked cute

"My precious little belphie, are you feeling okay? I noticed you were struggling to sleep today at lunch."

Whilst he believed he looked intimidating with his heavy bags and sleepy grin

You found him adorable, treating him like a sweet innocent boy on those special nights of just you two cuddling

It's been a long time since he's felt innocent

You were always checking in on him

Making him feel special and cared for

He was a soft mess in your hands

"Hold me more, your hands feel so nice~"

He placed his hands on yours, making you gently squish his cheeks

"Don't you wanna cuddle?"

He raised a brow, a smug smile growing on his face

"it seems you want to."

"we don't have to-"

"If you wanna be held just ask, I'm more than happy to hold you."

He wrapped his arms around you, shifting his position and buried his face into your chest, humming as your hands ran through his hair

He gave you a small squeeze

"It feels good to be the one hugging you, you're always so comfy~"

He began murmuring how much he loves this time with you, drifting to sleep as he praised you, letting himself mindlessly go on about how wonderful and sweet you are until he started to snore

You let your tears fall

Holding him closer as you softly thanked him for his words

He just hugged you tighter in his sleep, his smile growing

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

This man is TOUCH STARVED

the fact you're unafraid to be with him and around him is already amazing but you freely hold his hand and pat his head

He thinks he's knocked his head and been taken to the celestial realm

People are intimidated by his title as prince and having you so care free in his company is new for him

So of course he enjoys how affectionate you are!

He embraces all your touches and praise!

He's even had you sitting on his lap during meetings, letting you hug him after a tiring day of studying

"You did great today, I really felt your passion for this new project, I think the students will really enjoy it!"

He gets so happy everytime you even look his way

Your smile alone fuels him for the whole day

"Meet me in the castle today, there's something I need you to do for me."

You agreed, not thinking much of it; most likely a new update on the school fair

What you didn't expect was to be greeted by shopping bags and gift boxes and even a human sized teddy bear with demon horns, you tried to ignore them as Diavolo came jogging down the steps

"What did you need me for?"

"I want you to see what you like, I bought as much as I could before Barbatos stopped me, I hope they're up to your liking."

You were speechless

You felt as if you touched the gifts you wouldn't be able to hold back; you were excited to see what he got but you didn't want to seem too excited

"Please, go ahead - it's all yours unless something is not up to your liking."

You finally went through the shopping bags; there was clothes, products, jewelry, shoes and all other sorts of items

You hugged the giant close to your chest, choking back on your tears

"thank you-"

"No need to thank me, you're always so kind to me I just wanted to return the favour."

Barbatos:

You were a like a breath of fresh air, someone he could just go to

He can unwind and be rewarded for his efforts and others normally don't notice

Whilst his lord was always praising him, it felt different with you

It felt so joyful

You would brush through his hair, always thank him even if he's just doing his job and always seem to be in awe at what he does

He'll never forget the gloves you gave him, sleek and a perfect fit with a cursive 'B' stitched to the edge - they were enchanted to warm up whenever he got cold

"Wow! You prepared all this?! That must of taken you ages! You're really amazing, Barb."

"I'm simply doing my job but your praise makes it all worth it."

Often invites you to the castle for tea

He'll make any excuse to have you come see him; the prince wants to talk, he wants a hand with a recipe, he needs an outsider's opinion on something

Whatever he can come up with; he will use it

You might as well just stay in one of the guest bedrooms because you're always coming to the castle

Speaking of excuses; today Barbatos decided to thank your lovely behaviour

Convincing you to come to the castle and meet him in the dining hall

"I saw you eyeing some recipes whilst helping me in the kitchen so, I made you them AND wrote down how I did it exactly so you can make them any time you like."

"I- you didn't have to do that! Thank you for this, they look delicious."

"I always wanted to give you this."

You couldn't even ask what it was

He already held it up for you to see

It was a box of gloves with your the first letter of your name stitched onto the edge

They were heat up gloves!

"I thought you'd appreciate your own as they'll always be handy but the gesture of matching with someone you're close to is very appealing."

He helped you put the gloves on, pinching the tip of your fingers to make sure they fitted properly

He held your hand, admiring how it looked in his

You couldn't stop a few tears forming, smiling

You felt abit silly crying over heat up gloves but you couldn't help it

"I want to match with you more often, perhaps one day it'll end up being a ring."

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”

Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.

Rated T, gen.

I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).

Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean.  She’s a human espresso.

UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.

It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.

Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.

Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.

As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.

As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.

Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.

Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.

Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.

“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”

“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”

“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”

Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.

What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”

What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.

It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.

But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.

“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.

“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.

Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”

The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”

She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.

“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”

Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.

“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”

“For free?” Rex demands.

“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”

Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.

“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”

She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”

“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.

“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”

“Yeah?”

“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.

She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.

His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.

“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”

His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”

“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”

“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”

Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”

“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”

Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.

Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”

Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.

“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

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

Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.

“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”

So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.

Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.

When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.

“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.

“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”

“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”

“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.

“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”

“My last fight--”

“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”

“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”

He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”

She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.

“Jedi?”

“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”

“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”

“Bit young for that.”

“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”

“Not in command.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”

Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.

She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.

This part of the story is his.

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

When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.

“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”

Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.

“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.

Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”

“Time travel.”

He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”

“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”

She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”

Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”

She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”

“Let’s say I believe you.”

Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.

He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”

“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”

“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.

“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”

His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim. “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

“That why you’re special?”

Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”

Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.

“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

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

Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.

“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”

“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”

What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.

She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.

Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.

She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.

It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.

“Caf?”

She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

She doesn’t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”

“Try me anyway.”

Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.

“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.

“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”

Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”

“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”

“You’re hard on yourself.”

“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”

He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”

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

There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”

It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--

“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.

Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--

“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.

Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.

“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--

“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”

Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.

It’s Depa.

Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.

Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.

“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”

“Are you Depa?”

Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”

Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.

“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”

“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.

“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ‘em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”

Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”

It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”

“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”

All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.

Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”

Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

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

Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.

This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.

It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.

Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?

Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.

It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”

Does she?

“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”

“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”

Right. That.

Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.

“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”

That was a forgone conclusion.

A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”

She does.

Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.

She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.

Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.

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

She feels more like a person come morning.

Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.

“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.

“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”

Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”

“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”

“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”

Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.

Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.

She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.

Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.

“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”

"No, thank you.”

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

Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.

He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.

They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.

Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.

She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.

“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.

“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”

He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.

“Fett?”

“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”

“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”

“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”

“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“And you just kept doing it.”

“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”

He doesn’t answer her.

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

Rex greets them before she does.

Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.

She recognizes one of them.

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”

She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.

“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”

“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.

“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”

“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.

He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.

“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”

“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.

It’s not like they know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”

“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.

“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”

“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”

“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”

“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”

It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.

He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.

“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”

“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”

Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.

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

Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.

“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.

“What was what?”

“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”

That’s pretty true.

“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”

“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”

Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.

She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.

She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.

Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.

She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”

“What?”

“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”

She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”

She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”

“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”

He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.

“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”

I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.

Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.

“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”

“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”

“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”

Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.

She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.

She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”

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

Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.

“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”

“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”

That one gets her an odd look.

“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.

Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”

Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”

“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.

“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”

“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.

“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”

Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.

Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.

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

“Drop your elbow.”

Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.

“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”

“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”

The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.

Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.

“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.

Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.

“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”

“Hm?”

“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”

“And you?”

She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.

None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.

How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?

How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”

Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.

“That man is a terror,” she informs them.

(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)

“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.

Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”

“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”

The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.

“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”

Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”

He licks her palm.

She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.

He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.

“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.

“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”

“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.

“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”

“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.

“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”

A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”

Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.

“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.

“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.

“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.

The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.

Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.

“Whose idea was this?”

Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”

“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”

“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.

“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”

“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.

“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.

He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”

Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”

“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”

“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”

“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”

“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.

They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”

“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”

Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”

He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”

She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”

He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”

Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”

Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”

“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.

Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”

“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”

“Hey!”

Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”

Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”

“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”

“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

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

She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.

But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.

“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”

She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”

“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”

“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”

Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.

“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”

“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”

“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”

“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.

“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.

Then fucking Denon happens.

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

Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:

Fuel.

Paperwork.

Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.

It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.

It’s just a pit stop.

But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?

“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.

The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”

“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”

“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”

“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”

Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”

He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.

She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.

They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.

Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.

“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.

“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”

“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.

“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”

“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.

She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

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

Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.

Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.

He’s examining a papaya.

She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”

“It appears so, Sir.”

“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”

“Seems it.”

A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”

Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”

She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

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

Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.

This was true and accurate.

Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.

“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”

“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.

“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”

“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”

“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”

“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”

“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”

“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”

“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.

“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”

Rex snorts derisively.

“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.

“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”

Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.

“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”

“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”

“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”

“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”

Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”

“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.

“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.

“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”

Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.

“Okay?”

“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”

“Oh, yes please.”

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

Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.

Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.

(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)

“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.

“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.

“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.

“I’m wh--”

He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.

“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.

She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.

Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.

As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.

It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.

At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.

“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”

Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”

Rex snorts.

Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”

“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”

Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”

“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

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

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her��mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

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

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

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

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

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

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

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

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

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

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

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

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

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

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

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

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

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

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[harryspet]

positions | b.barnes & p.parker

[warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, grey!peter parker x reader, petplay, abduction, collars/bondage, brainwashing, noncon/dubcon oral sex, degredation/dehuminization, sex slave training, some weird shit 

A/N: So I tried something new and this is kind of a test to see if people like it. I’m into it so I figured I might as well write it :) if you don’t know what petplay is ... google it 

In which Bucky trains you for your new owner, Peter Parker. 

word count: 4.3k

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taglist: @cherienymphe​ @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011  @visintaes @cherienymphe

You dipped your head down, trying to get your fingers closer to your mouth you could pull out the gag tightly wrapped around your head. Your cheeks were wet with mascara and tears and your body was completely sore, having been wrestled, bound, and thrown into a cage. Leather cuffs decorated your wrist, ankles and were even wrapped around your thighs, all connected together by chains and leaving you positioned in all fours. 

You even felt a tightness around your neck which could only be a collar. 

Where are my clothes? 

Of course, he knew you were a tourist, having asked him directions to the club you were supposed to meet your friends at. He joined you and bought an entire round of drinks for you and your friends. You were broke so how could you turn down drinks from such a nice guy? Who cares if he was trying to get into your pants, your friends would help if he got too handsy. You remembered dancing with the older and extremely handsome man for most of the night, actually enjoying being pressed against him. 

You remembered the dark brown hair that he pushed back from his face, the stubble you felt against your cheek when he spoke in your ear. 

You were supposed to take the pill he offered you together but now you knew his must have been a placebo. Your friends saw his face and they’d help the cops find you. That’s what you told yourself but as the hours that felt like days went by in the dim, concrete room.

You weren’t alone, you knew that, you could hear the moaning and whimpering of other girls that you assumed were locked away just like you were. You were being sex trafficked, you assumed, and the thought was suffocating you more than the gag was. You began to hyperventilate and, no matter how much you tried to control your breathing, you couldn’t stop yourself. You welcomed the darkness of sleep and hoped you would wake up in your hotel room. 

You awoke to the sound of tapping on the cage, your heavy eyes blinking open to find the man who was responsible for your kidnapping. Unlike the smile he wore when you first met him, the look on his face was stoic as he bent down to examine you. 

He said his name was James but his friends called him Bucky.  

“Look how beautiful you are even when you’re crying,” He said, a pain in the back of your throat when you realized the tears were starting again, “Look at those eyes … I knew you had the face for this.” 

He reached towards you, pulling up the hinge that was keeping the cage shut. It was a simple contraption but with your limbs pinned by leather, it made the simple task impossible to do. He opened the cage, reaching into his back pocket, and pulling out what looked like a …  leash, “C’mon, doll, let's get the hard part over with,” He was going to lead you around like a dog? You backed yourself up further, suddenly thinking you might be safer inside the cage, “I’ll give you another chance ... “

You shook your head, an inaudible sound of protests coming from your mouth because you were gagged. He clicked his tongue, “That little collar around your neck, that's the one good girls wear. Would you rather wear an electric one?”

You paused, your eyes widening. This was even worse than you assumed and, although you were shaking, you let him attach the leash to the collar. He stood, pulling on the leash. It tightened the more you hesitated and you found yourself struggling for air. You crawled out onto the cold concrete, unable to stand up. 

The room reminded you of a basement or a mad scientist’s lab, concrete walls, one wall lined with cages, another covered in what looked like torture devices, and a metal table in the middle of the room, “There you go, good girl,”  He started pulling you further along and but you couldn’t coordinate your movements. The feeling was so unnatural. You finally got a look at the other girls but, unlike you, they weren’t bound like you were. Some were sleeping peacefully and the others had their wide, wanting eyes on Bucky as if they desired his attention. 

Growing frustrated, you started to pull back, but it only choked you further. You struggled to make actual words come out but you were loud against the gag, though your efforts were probably futile. He forced you to crawl over to the table, where he paused before he was suddenly wrapping his arms around your torso. 

He lifted you onto the table and, for a short moment, you imagined the muscles that were probably underneath his black shirt. The cold of the table sent a chill through your body, adding to the eerie nature of the room. As you tried to move into a more comfortable position, resting your bottom back on your feet, you felt a sharp sting to your bottom, “I didn’t tell you to change positions,” You heard him say, and when you tried to turn your head to look at him, he spanked you again, “Face forward, pet.”

You tried to blink away your tears as you turned your head away, “Are you naturally obedient … or are you just scared out of your mind, huh?”

You weren’t sure either. The only thing you knew was that you wanted to be miles and miles away from where you were now. Were you even in New York anymore? 

“The fear will go away,” He said and you felt him messing with the leather cuffs wrapped around your limbs. He tightened them in areas that were loose and made sure they were secure. When he got to your gag, you didn’t expect him to untie the cloth from around your mouth. Before it was loose enough, “Speak and the shock collar goes on … nod if you understand.”

Slowly, you nodded. Trying to protect yourself, you decided you would be obedient for now. When there was a clear chance of escape, you could take it. The gag being gone gave you back some comfort but your lips trembled. You wanted badly to say something, to reason with him but he seemed set on doing whatever he was going to do. Whatever he did to those other girls … 

You felt a hand on your waist, it wasn’t rough, but his touch sent warning signals through your brain, “From now on, the only words I should hear from your mouth are ‘Yes, Master’. Do you understand?”

Your lips did not part to utter those words which led to a spank on your bottom. You yelped at the initial one and his assault continued until you gave in. You squeezed your hands into a fist, embarrassment rushing through you, as you finally said, “Y-Yes, Master.”

Sounding triumphant, he moved on to the next part of his inspection. Still looking forward, you were pulled to the side when he grabbed a hold of your hair. He separated it, almost neatly, into two sections, tying each side into a ponytail and effectively removing it from your face. Next, you watched him walk over to his wall of torture tools. 

You looked at him then down at the restraints around your wrist. You pulled your hands in opposite directions, testing the strength of the chain connecting them. When he approached again, he was holding another black item. You tried backing away but he grabbed a hold of your arm, “Shhh,” He spoke, sounding more annoyed than calming. You weren’t sure what it was until it was right in front of your face. Black leather straps attached to a metal ring. When he grabbed your face, forcing the ring into your mouth, you thought you might choke once again. Like the cloth gag, he tightened this one behind your head, “There, that’s better. Your first, big reward will be getting to take off that gag … in the meantime, you’ll learn how to beg without using your words.”

He held your chin in his hand, the other touching over your hair. For a moment, he seemed to look at you with adoration. 

+

For the next three weeks, you’d stay in that cement room for almost twenty-three hours of the day, Bucky only letting you out for your “lessons” or to let you relieve yourself. He’d told you a while ago that you wouldn’t do anything without his permission, not even go to the restroom. It was dehumanizing which you knew was the point of all of this. You were already starting to feel relieved whenever Bucky appeared because it meant you could come out of the cage. 

He often walked you around the room, letting you practice coordinating your movements. Humiliating as it was, your favorite thing was when he’d take off the restraints, letting you stand up, as he bathed you. 

Today, things were different, “It’s your lucky day, pet. We start house training today.” In the morning, he came down the stairs, and, this time, he led you up them. Undoing the chains but leaving the cuffs allowed you to move more freely but you learned that he still wanted to crawl. It made you feel small, in comparison to the massive house that was built above the basement. The home was sleek, expensive, and clean as well as full of grays, whites, and black colors. 

Bringing you into the living room, The living room was illuminated by the tall windows and you could see the thick green trees outside. You definitely weren’t in the city anymore. You could run now, if you could find a way out. So far, you hadn’t spotted a front door but maybe that would be the obvious out. He was a professional after all and your escape would take some critical thinking. 

Right now, you were focused on not being punished. From the moment Bucky decided to move the ring gag, you’d do anything to keep it off. You’d gotten used to the feeling but it was still painful and it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself when you were constantly drooling on yourself. 

You soon learned what exactly Bucky meant by housetraining. Instead of spanking, Bucky decided on a new positive reinforcer. With everything you did right, he gave you little bites of chocolate which you became grateful for. The food he served down in the basement didn’t resemble anything tasteful. 

First, you went through positions. 

Stay, Sit, Heel, Wait, Come, Stand, Bed or Crate, and plenty more an adult woman could easily do but fight her cognitive dissonance at the same time. You tried your best to not focus on the embarrassment and remembered the food … you even took comfort in the soft pats on your head and bottom, a reminder of human contact. 

“When I tell you to Mount, I want your face down and ass in the air,” The command was simple enough but Bucky sensed your hesitance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen every inch of your body already, “Face down,” Bucky urged you, his voice deep and commanding. 

Slowly you moved down to the carpet, your bottom in the air. You felt him standing behind you, probably taking in the view. He placed his feet between your legs, kicking them apart and allowing him a better view. He was quiet for a moment and you began to assume the worst, jumping a bit when you felt a hand on your bottom, “Face down,” He commanded again and you pressed your cheek to the carpet, “Good. Don’t you worry, sweet thing. I’ll leave this hole untouched for your future owner … though I am tempted.”

“Up,” He said, grabbing ahold of the leash attached to your collar. He led you towards the white, leather couch, taking a seat while pulling you in between his spread legs. Leaning forward, Bucky’s held your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. Bucky watched the panic in your eyes, the uncertainty and fear that was still lingering, “Things will be so much better when you realize you rather be a dumb, little puppy … the overthinking, the anxiety, you can let it all go, let someone else take control.”

You began to shake your head and Bucky grabbed your chin roughly, his eyes darkening, “You’ve been good all day, don’t start now,” He said, his grip still tight, “I think you need to show me a little bit more gratitude.” You watched him begin to wrap the leather leash around his hand, over and over, until he had all the control of it. It pulled you closer to his crotch as Bucky leaned back against the couch. 

“I’m sure you’ve done this before, right?” He smirked, undoing his belt, and unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Please-”  You yelped as he pulled you even further. 

“Pets don’t get to make demands. I don’t want any thoughts going on in that little head that don’t involve your mouth being around my cock. Understand?” Another rough pull. 

You nodded, “Y-Yes,” You rushed the words out, “Yes, Master.”

“Good puppy,” He spoke condescendingly, reaching into his briefs to pull out his cock, and he touched it against your cheek, letting you feel how hard he already was, “If you make me cum fast enough, I’ll let you sleep upstairs tonight.”

You’d never fully admit it to yourself but the prospect of sleeping in a real bed, at least not sleeping in a cold basement, sounded a lot more appealing than the food. Though you were hesitant, you knew how badly you wanted to stay upstairs, even if that meant you had to be with Bucky. 

You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and put the tip of him in his mouth. As Bucky’s head tilted back, you began to work your magic which wasn’t much seeing as how you hadn’t been in many relationships. You worked him into your mouth slowly, trying not to trigger your gag reflex, while you stroked his bottom half. “Good girl … good girl,” You heard him whisper, trying not to find the way his face contorted in pleasure as attractive. He took you away from everything, you had to remind yourself. 

As time went on, you could tell he was getting close. You swirl your tongue around his tip, anticipating his orgasm. He grabbed you by your ponytail, pushing you further down, as he came down your throat, “Swallow it all,” He grunted, “Good girl.”

You did swallow it all though it was hard to hide your disgust at the taste. Bucky looked amused, once again taking your face in his hands. He had a thing for your lips, that much you understood, and you wondered if he wanted to kiss you. Maybe it was another thing that was oft limits and to be saved for your true “owner”. 

That night, Bucky kept his word though you slept at the end of his bed with a pillow and blanket, your collar chained to the bedpost. Somehow, it was the best night's rest you had in weeks.

+

“This is … impressive,” Peter breathed out, stuffing his hands into his pocket in order to keep them from fidgeting. The sight of women displayed before him, each one of them beautiful, was reddening his cheeks which he hoped Bucky didn’t notice, “And you’ve trained all of them yourself?”

Like he was showing off one of his greatest accomplishments, Bucky smiled. Three of his “pets” sat on their knees obediently in the area in front of the fireplace. All tourists and all of them had something special Bucky noticed about them. Holding two glasses of bourbon, he handed one to Peter to which Peter accepted politely, “Tricks and all. Piper there has been with me for over a year. Feel free to touch and try out the merchandise, they love it.” 

The girls did seem eager to get their hands on him, with warm smiles and flirtatious eyes. Though they loved Bucky, they’d been trained to work hard so that one day they can be adopted by someone else. All they had worked for would be worth it once they were chosen.

Peter’s eyes widened, “Actually, I don't think-”

“Not your cup of tea, Pete?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. 

“No, uhm, that’s not it,” Peter said. The entire idea of this was becoming a little too real for the young Avenger. He knew what had led him here, the loneliness of being a superhero, and the inability to get close to someone out of fear that his enemies would target them. That's how he lost MJ and he’d promised himself that he’d never hurt like that again, “I’m not sure about … all of this.”

Bucky placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a look that father might give a son, “You have a lot of empathy, that's why,” Bucky explained, “But you already do your part to society, saving people and risking your life. It’s okay to be a bit selfish and take back from the universe. You deserve it, kid. Besides, I’m sure your left-hand could use a break every now and then.”

Peter shook his head, trying to hide his amusement, “Ha ha.”

“C’mere, let me show you something,” With his hand still on his shoulder, Bucky led Peter over to the basement door, “I’ve never shown anyone where the magic happens. My customers usually see one of the girls, gets over excited and immediately wants to buy one.”

The lights flicked on and illuminated the staircase. As they went down, Peter’s eyes were wide with curiosity, feeling as if Bucky was the villain and he was entering his evil lair. Well, his feelings weren’t totally wrong, “... do they usually test them out too?”

“Usually, yes …” Bucky trailed off, realizing something, “You’d like someone untouched, I can tell. There’s someone that I think would be perfect for you.”

The two walked along a long corridor until getting to a room full of metal cages. You were the only one left downstairs, the other girls were ready to be sold, and you were sleeping peacefully like you did most time during the day. After seeing Bucky leading the other girls away, you didn’t expect to see him for hours. Now that he had returned, you were perked up, and even more curious about the man with him. 

Seeing someone new made you want to cry out for help but that would be stupid. If he was with Bucky, he was probably into Bucky’s sick business too. They stopped in front of your cage and Bucky crouched down to open the lock, crawling out as Bucky beckoned you by waving his hand. 

Peter’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of you, watching how your eyes darted back in forth between the two men. You seemed just as frightened as Peter was, “Sit,” Bucky told you and, hesitantly, you sat back on your knees, your hands in your lap. Though you were still naked, you’d earned your way out of the restraints except for your collar of course. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? I haven’t named her yet but I’ve only had her for a few months.”

Bucky ran his hand over your hair and then down your back, his hand resting on your bottom, “Yeah, uhm … yeah,” You connected the dots quickly, realizing the man with the light brown hair and kind eyes was interested in buying her, “She already seems very behaved.”

You looked to Bucky to see his reaction and he had a proud look on his face, “We had an issue about two weeks ago but it was easily corrected,” You cringed, looking away, remembering the week you spent with the electric collar on all because you’d tried to run to the front door. You could still feel the current rushing through your body, paralyzing your muscles, “She is very sweet, good with her mouth and she’s a cuddler, that’s why I think you’d be a good match.”

Bucky stood and you wished for a second that he’d keep caressing your back. He’s spent most of the last week with the other girls and you hadn’t slept upstairs in ages, “Would she really be ready after two months?”

Bucky sighed, “I’d have to keep her for a few more months. It usually takes more than a year,” Peter nodded, “But, for my friend, I’ll make sure she’s ready as soon as possible. So?”

Peter looked you over again. There was something about you that was different … special, even, “She’s the one,” Peter said, surprising himself and Bucky smiled. 

You didn’t know if you’d be able to recognize yourself in the coming months but, just like that, your fate was sealed. 

+

six months later … 

You remembered your last night with Bucky. He reminded you every day it seemed like that you’d be going to Peter soon. You’d curled up in his lap, letting tears fall down your cheek as Bucky wiped them away, “I know it hurts, pet,” He spoke soothingly, “Peter is a good friend, you’ll see me soon. Besides, it’ll be nice not having to share, won’t it?”

Bucky took your silence as a sign of acceptance, “That’s my good girl,” He cooed and you tried to keep in your sobs as you accepted his comfort. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek. It was the perfect distraction and you almost didn’t notice that he pricked your neck, filling you with a sedative, “When you wake up, you’ll be somewhere new, but I want you to be on your best behavior. You’ll listen to him … you’ll comfort him because he’s your new Master. You can do that, right?”

“Yes …” Your voice began to trail off as your eyes got heavy, “... Master.”

“Goodnight, pet.”

+

Peter awoke the next morning to a phone call. He rolled over in bed, picking it up, “Hello?” He asked groggily. 

“Mr. Parker, you have quite a large package here. Should I send it up?” It was the man at the front desk downstairs. Peter was confused at first since he hadn’t ordered anything but the realization hit him quickly, “Mr. Parker-”

“Yes, send it up, please!” Peter was already hurrying out of bed, looking around the room for clothes. Peter was expecting you tonight and he thought he’d have all day to get things ready for you. When he finally made it out of the room, there was a knock at the front door. Taking a deep breath, Peter answered. One of the bellhops rolled in the package which was wrapped in red wrapping paper and a bow. Just in time for Christmas in a few days. 

Peter waited for the bellhop to step out and tipped him handsomely. Even if the man did think Peter had made a shady purchase, Spiderman wasn’t exactly a figure you wanted to go against. A lot had changed since he was a teenager, a lot for the better. He wouldn’t be standing in the foyer of his penthouse apartment if things hadn’t changed. Peter couldn’t buy his happiness, he knew that, but he had a feeling you could change things. 

Peter carefully unwrapped the paper, trying not to startle you further, but it seemed that it was too late for that. As Peter crouched down at the opening of the cage, you had pushed yourself to the back of it, your knees pulled to your chest, and tears dry against your cheeks. 

You looked different, Bucky having dressed you in a new, light pink collar as well pink ribbons to decorate your pigtails. He’d even given you a dress though it was tight to your skin and barely went over your bottom. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise” Peter said, opening the door to the cage, “I’m Peter, remember? … do you want to come out?”

He was asking you? Bucky never asked what you wanted. 

Peter racked his brain for all the training information that Bucky had given him, “Come,” Peter said, remembering the word from the manual, “ … please,” He added. 

You moved slowly, getting onto your knees as you slowly crawled out onto the cool, marble floor. Up above you could see a shining chandelier and looking around you could tell there was much to discover. Peter, kneeling beside you, said, “This is your home now,” He informed you and couldn’t help but wish Bucky was here. You were already missing his bed, you even missed when he would come down to the basement and set you free, “I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

Peter was your Master now, you had to remember that. You belonged to him now and, unlike with Bucky, you belonged to him solely. 

You trusted Bucky. And when you were finally reunited, he’d be overjoyed that you’d done as he told you. Bucky wanted you to be happy here and he wanted you to make Peter happy so that’s exactly what you’d do. 

“Do you like it, Princess?” Though you still had dry tears, your lips pulled into a thin smile which surprised Peter.

Princess, you liked that name. 

The younger man, reach out, and you took the opportunity to brush your face against his hand. Peter stroked your face as you nuzzled into him. You loved his touch and you craved more of the feeling. You pushed closer and closer, causing Peter to fall back on his bottom as you climbed on top of him. Still grinning, you placed soft kisses along his neck and then on his chin. 

He laughed, sitting up on his elbows, “I’ll take that as a yes. How about a tour?”

Anything to make you happy, Master.

+

hope you enjoyed!!

[eclipixels]

Saving Kaneki from going on that date with Rize

______________________________

The first time I had met him was at the school library. He had stumbled into my life, quite literally stumbled. He had tripped and fallen on top of me, knocking over most of the books from the fantasy section.

There he was, all shy with shining silver eyes and dark hair. He groaned and rubbed his head before immediately standing up and apologising, running back to an orange haired boy whom I assumed was his friend.

The next day, a Monday, it was going back to classes again. Most people were taking a break from everything and just going out since it was the weekend but I stayed in and read some fanfiction to release some stress. Dazai is good and all but sometimes you just need a brain break from all the high vocabulary and just read some cheesy love story written by a delusional 16 year old.

I had arrived to class early since it's nice when it's all silent and nobody is here. I sighed before taking out my textbooks and reading Sen Takatsuki's newest novel. I rested my chin on my palm as I engrossed myself into the pages of the book.

Suddenly, I noticed something from the corner of my eye, there was someone else here. It didn't take long for me to realize that it was the boy from the library yesterday.

He had 2 cups of coffee in his hand with one nervously held out towards me. I was a bit shocked since nobody had ever done a gesture like that to me before so I froze for a second before accepting the warm beverage.

"I'm really sorry I ran into you yesterday, I really didn't mean to, it was an accident and I didn't know where I was going, and um, I'm Kaneki Ken."

"It's alright. I didn't mind and you didn't have to get me this but thank you." I smiled politely.

"You're welcome and it really was no trouble. It's the least I could do to excuse my clumsiness." He shyly spoke.

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked as I noticed he was still standing in front of me.

"O-oh sure!" His eyes widened. He sat down next to me and pulled out his textbooks, mimicking the actions I had done prior to him arriving.

"Hey, is that Takatsuki's newest novel? How'd you get that? I didn't think it'd be out 'till next week!" The smile that lit up his face was something I'd never get used to and unbeknownst to me, would be the one I would slowly fall in love with.

"Oh, most shops have already had them shipped to them and are keeping them in storage until next week. A bookstore owner I know really well managed to sneak one out for me." I explained.

"Aw, no way! You're so lucky! Do you mind if I borrow it? I promise I'll give it back to you by tomorrow!" He exclaimed and I can swear I think I saw sparkles in his eyes.

"Um, Here, you can take it now since I finished it earlier in the morning." I handed the book to him.

Thus was the start of our friendship. Even though he was often busy with school more than me, (since he took more complex classes) he still had time to spend with me. It'd be small things from sitting silently next to me and doing his school work while I read any book that he had recommended to just going out for ice cream together in a nearby park.

Everyday he would seem to bring me a beverage whether it'd be my favorite coffee or something else. If he couldn't meet with me, he'd always have it delivered to my doorstep. It became a tradition for us.

Soon enough, I had met the orange haired boy that I had seen with Kaneki the day that I first met him and not long after had we also become friends.

Somehow, Hide and Kaneki managed to get me out of my apartment and took me out to get lunch with them. The three of us had become quite close.

Although I enjoyed my friendship with both of them, it had seemed that I had fallen in love with the dark haired boy and might I say fallen really hard. Like, cupid got drunk and shot me in the back, sending me flying into Kaneki's heart, face first into his adorableness.

His eyes told stories that I found familiarity in. It held the same gleam of a painful past, the same feeling I found in mine. It didn't take long for me to accept the fact that I had drowned myself in his aura, becoming truly, madly deep in love with Kaneki Ken.

Unfortunately Hide had figured this out and of course he tried to get me to confess and after what felt like centuries of persuading, he finally got me to go and confess.

Well, that was before now. Now, he had come to me with pitiful eyes, telling me that Kaneki had fallen for a shy, purple haired woman that he had met in a coffee shop, and that he had asked her out on a bit of a date, and that she had said yes. I couldn't process what was even coming out of his mouth.

Kaneki asking out a stranger? Impossible–

–But.. after awhile I looked up at Hide and saw that he still had the same downcast look on his face. I knew then that he wasn't lying, and that he was serious. I guess that Kaneki does not feel the same way I do. we'll, obviously he didn't. I felt myself go numb as I was being pulled into a hug by Hide but I didn't respond. He kept apologizing over and over again, telling me that Kaneki is an idiot to have chosen a stranger over the the girl who was there for him through the difficult times and shared almost everything with each other but, in my eyes, I was just the girl who was foolishly in love with a boy who would never look at her the way she looked at him.

Hide went on about how Kaneki must have been crazy not to like me back, and that kaneki and I were perfect for one another, and that Kaneki was just making a mistake but everything that came out of his mouth just felt like lies that only reminded me more and more of the reality, stomping harder on my already shattered heart.

Hide decided to take me to get some food to cheer me up. It wouldn't work but I accepted his kind request since I can at least try to get my mind off of it.

"Don't worry about it, Y/n! We're gonna have the bestest day you've ever experienced!" Hide exclaimed determined.

"Give it your best shot." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Just wait and see Y/n, it'll be fun. Now let's go!" Hide shouted.

Once we had arrived, Hide's face looked distraught and he immediately said we should go somewhere else. I found that very weird and out of the ordinary for him. That's when I noticed him staring at something and I followed his gaze only to be met with the shattering view.

"Oh." I muttered.

"That's why" he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry." He apologized.

There was Kaneki, across the street with a tall long purple haired girl who I assumed was the girl who he asked out.

"What do you mean? That doesn't matter to me. Let's just go inside anyway." I lied straight through my teeth, doing my best to seem unbothered by it.

"Are you sure? You don't seem like you're okay." Hide asked with worried eyes, concern evident on his face.

"No no, I'm fine" but my tone contradicted my words.

"Look y/n, you're hurt and upset but you don't have to force yourself to do this-" Hide gripped my shoulder only to be interrupted by my voice.

"I said it's okay, Hide. C'mon, I can handle this." I smiled.

I don't know why I'm doing this but it can't get any worse, can it?

Shit.. yes, yes it can and it's happening right now.

Kaneki sees us and makes his way over. His expression was shocked to say the least.

"Y/n? What're you doing here?" Kaneki asked.

"Oh um, Hide and I just decided to get some food." I stumbled the words out.

"..with Hide?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yea." I pressed my lips together and rocked on my heels.

"Huh, interesting." He hummed. "Are you two out on a date?" His expression changed to bitter.

"Wait what? No way." I laughed, actually finding it funny he would think that. Even Hide snickered.

"oh.." He muttered.

"So, who's that?" I chocked out, referring to the violet haired girl.

"This is Rize." He introduced.

"Well it was nice to meet you! Excuse me I have to go now." I ran to the bathroom. Fuuuuuck that was so embarrassing. I wanna cry and scream at the same time.

I could overhear Hide and Kaneki still talking. I focused to hear a bit clearer and I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth as I heard Hide passive aggressively say, "Have fun on your date while y/n and I hang out and have fun all day. Bye Ken!"

Hide huffed before sitting down next to me. "Someone looks pissed." I mumbled.

"Who wouldn't I be pissed? God, he's so fucking dense. This is like when your two favorite characters who you ship don't end up together and one of them ends up with some other bitch." He ran his hand through his hair sighing.

"What did you say to him?" I asked.

"You'd scold me if I told you so I'm not telling you. Ugh, I can't believe I'm best friends with such a-" I stopped him mid sentence.

"Let it go, Hide." I put a hand on his shoulder.

"I won't talk about it anymore but I'm not letting it go." He huffed.

"Whatever but, did you notice something weird about her?" I asked.

"Uh, not really. What do you mean by weird?" He asked.

"Bro, I swear there's something fucking weird about that girl!" I exclaimed.

"She doesn't seem weird.. I just think he's ways out of her league." He explained.

"No no, there's just something.. I don't know. She gives off weird vibes." I stirred the straw in my drink.

"Hm, are you sure you aren't acting like this because.." Hide trailed off, smirking.

"I just care about him, it's not about how I feel and- stuff for him, y'know? It's not about that. I'm just worried about him." I expressed my concerns trying to not include my feelings into the equation.

"Call it whatever you want but you're jealous." He snickered.

"I've got an idea!" I exclaimed.

"Oh no-" He widened his eyes.

"I'll go with them!" I said.

"I don't think they'd let you." He furrowed his brows.

"I'll just sit at another table so they won't see me."

"Don't-"

"I PROMISE I won't ever do it again. Just this one time and if everything goes ok I'll never do it again." I put my hands together before Hide sighed in response.

~

I sat at a table far away from them but enough for me to see. They were talking but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

Kaneki was mostly likely rambling on about his favorite books. He's so cute when he makes those little gestures. Honestly, he could talk about where hot dogs come from and I'd still drool over how adorable he is.

Seggsy lesbian bitch- I mean Rize on the other hand was just doing the debby ryan and not even eating anything. That's kinda suspicious. Is she a vampire or something? Holy shit what if she's a ghoul?!

I almost didn't notice them leaving but I somehow catched up to where they were going. It was already a but dark out. They came to a stop and Kaneki was blushing furiously.

Wait..

Oh no

They leaned in..

Are they going to kiss? I don't think I can bear to watch that.

What happened next almost gave me a heart attack. She opened her mouth and was about to bite his shoulder. My fight or flight response immediately activated and before I knew it, I grabbed Kaneki's hand and ran.. His eyes widened in pure shock.

From the corner of my eye, I could see in the reflection of weird tentacles coming out of her as she wailed and chased after us. I didn't notice at first but soon enough I felt the blood trickle down my leg.

She managed to cut my leg. I wasn't that good at running and the gash made it even worse. I felt my legs giving out and I collapsed onto the concrete sidewalk. Everything felt kind of foggy and I barely remember what's even happening right now but I could feel that Kaneki somehow managed to carry me on his back and he ran to the nearest public area.

"Y/n! You're bleeding! We need to get you to the hospital right now!" Kaneki said as he frantically looked for his phone.

"Are you okay? Did she bite you?" I asked.

"No, I'm fine! You're the one hurt right now! Why are you worrying about me?" I could see the fear and concern in his eyes. For some reason I felt guilty for it but I felt warm inside knowing he cared.

"I'll be fine, it's just a cut. She was going to eat you! What was going to happen if she did?" I squeezed his hand.

"I'm okay now, aren't I? Thanks to you." He smiled, wiping away splattered blood from my cheek.

"You're welcome, Kaneki-san"

"I called Hide to come so he can help take you to the hospital to get your wound treated." He assured me.

"Its not a big deal." I tried to pretend I wasn't in extreme pain.

"It is" He sternly voiced.

"It's not" I spoke with the same tone.

"Don't argue back. I owe it to you after you saved my life."

"Fine but only because you said so."

After we arrived at the hospital, the doctor said it was just a small gnash, nothing severe. They patched me up and Kaneki insisted on coming along with me.

"You didn't have to come with me, Ken. I can manage on my own." I said as we entered my apartment.

"Oh and also, what're you doing?" I asked as he tugged on my jacket trying to get it off which he somehow managed to do.

"Y/n, you're my friend and you saved my life, I already told you I owe you." He sighed hanging up our coats.

"A friend, huh?" I smiled sadly. Back to pain it was again. Heartbreak isn't a hobby for me, it's a lifestyle. :')

"Y-yeah, well you're my friend aren't you?" He peered at me with doe eyes.

"Kaneki I really need to tell you something." I blurted.

"What is it?" He gulped.

"I.." I started but choked up.

"Uh?" He stepped closer. Dammit why is this so difficult.

"I love you." I whispered averting my eyes away. I couldn't dare to look at his face. After a moment of silence I looked up to see.. nobody? Where'd he go?

"Kaneki?? Where are you?" I shouted. Did he leave? Wow, couldn't he at least say it that he doesn't like me. I suddenly tripped over something and fell onto the floor, thankfully on top of a rug.

I groaned feeling a sharp pain in my abdomen from landing on something underneath. I slowly get up and look to see Kaneki. Kaneki. On the floor. wut.

"Eh? What the-???" I yelled in confusion. "Why are you on the God damn floor??" I frantically shouted.

"And are you crying? And texting Hide?" I ask seeing his lit up phone screen.

"N-no" He sniffled, turning his head so I couldn't see.

"Why are you crying, though?" I raised an eyebrow, wiping his tears with my thumb.

"It's just that I never thought you'd ever like me. Do you know h-how long I've had feelings for you?" He teared up even more.

"Why are you getting emotional?" I held his hand tighter.

"Oh my bananas y/n, I'm crying tears of joy! I'm so happy you like me back! I just thought you'd never like me back, that's why I went out with Rize to try and forget these feelings." He looked away from me with pink tinted cheeks feeling shameful.

"Kaneki! Why didn't you say anything?" I scolded light heartedly.

"You know I'm shy. How come you didn't?" He scrunched his nose.  Adorable.

"Well I was! In fact I was planning on confessing on the day you asked that girl out" I glanced down while frowning, having a sour taste in my mouth.

"Y/n.. do you want to go out on a date with me?" He looked up at me.

"Of course I do and I wanted to be the one to ask!" I crossed my arms.

"Beat you to it." He smiled.

"Can I at least pick the date?" I asked.

"Errr sure but I want to go on a book date 'cause Hide said they're lame and I wanna prove him wrong." He narrowed his eyes.

"Sure." I sigh.

"Thank you, Y/n!" He launched himself at me, hugging me tightly.

"What for?" I laughed hugging him back.

"For saving me and for agreeing to going on a date with me" He whispered.

"I didn't have a choice when it came to liking you though, how could I not?" I replied back.

"May we.. stay like this." He requested while staring up at me with sparking glossy doe eyes. I gazed at his soft pink face and planted a cheste kiss on his cheek causing his breath to hitch.

The moment was innocent, delicate and serene... until Kaneki's phone dinged with a notification of a text from Hide. Y/n made a mental note to ask what he texted Hide behind her couch while Kaneki made a mental note to ask how the hell did she show up at the right moment when Rize tried to eat him.

—But only Hide knows the answer to those questions 💅

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐸𝑆𝑇 𝐷𝐴𝑌

𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧: doctor!reader has no clue that Bucky is a secret agent and she soon finds out.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Fluff, minor angst.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

MASTERLIST

Bucky was finally back from his business trip. He had been gone for two whole weeks and you both had missed each other terribly.

Today he had decided to make it up to you, and had taken a day off from his work, and so had you. Instead of a simple date, you both had decided to spend the entire day idly roaming around the city. It was a nice reprieve from all the stress that came with being a surgeon.

While walking, you stopped in front of your favorite boutique. The dresses there were expensive but chic and you were friends with the owner and designer, Maria. Whenever you wore one, you used to turn all the heads in the room. Currently there was no special occasion coming up, and you already had enough of the dresses so you decided to window shop.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Bucky asked. “Buck, I already have so many of the dresses and I don’t need another one as there is no special event coming up anytime soon.”

“My doll doesn’t need a special occasion to look good.” He said kissing your temple. “Buck...” you tried to protest but he nevertheless dragged you in.

“Welcome! And congratulations you are our lucky customers.” You looked at her dumbstruck, Maria wasn’t a person to give any discounts. “Lucky customers?” You asked.

“Yes, today is the 7-year anniversary. And we had agreed that the first person to walk in the boutique would get 75% off on any dress of their choice.” She said with an infectious smile.

“75% off? On any dress?” You squealed. You looked up at Bucky and he gave you his signature smirk. You were a sucker for sales. As you looked around, your eyes were captivated by a dress. It was maroon, with long bell-shaped sleeves. It had a V-shaped neckline and was a flowing gown.

“You like that one doll?” Bucky asked as he saw you staring at the gown. He knew you would like that one. “Yes. I love it.” You said excitedly. “Alright then, pack it.” In your excitement you failed to notice the understanding nod shared between Bucky and Maria.

You were super excited and were talking nonstop. That was one of your traits when you got excited. You couldn’t believe you walked in at the right time, and the credit was Buck’s, he was the one who dragged you in. You couldn’t believe your luck.

The next you decided to visit the bookstore you usually frequented. The moment you entered, the book store clerk, Simone happily waved at you as if she was waiting just for you.

“I have something for you.” She said as she bent down and produced a book. It was your favorite one. “Open it. It’s a signed copy.” You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your favorite author had signed that book along with a sweet message scribbled just for you. “Oh my goddddd!!”

You couldn’t believe that this day was even real. “Bucky, I don’t know what is happening today, but it’s already the best day of my life.” You squealed and he pulled you closer to him, “It’s definitely the best day of our lives.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

After around an hour later, your beauty salon lady called up and informed you about her latest offer. And so, you decided to give her a visit while Bucky went home. Once you were done, you were looking exquisite.

You were too euphoric to notice all the coincidences. Everything was perfect until you went home. Bucky face was worried. “What happened? You look worried.”

“It’s Nat’s birthday today. We both forgot. Don’t worry, Steve has arranged a party. So now let’s get dressed and go.” Nat and Steve were Bucky’s colleagues and best friends.

You knew this universe was giving you signs. After all the shopping you did, it was worth it. You decided to wear the new elegant dress.

When Bucky saw you and his jaw dropped. He himself was wearing an expensive navy-blue suit. “I swear to god, if it weren’t so important, we would’ve never left this house.”

Once you reached the location, you were surprised to find no one was there and it was completely dark. But then a sudden focus of light was out on where you stood with Bucky.

Just then Bucky got down on his knees and produced a velvet box. “Will you make me the luckiest man alive by marrying me?” He looked flustered and scared. Without thinking twice, you squealed “YES!”

Apparently, Bucky had already bought that dress for you, there was no offer at Maria’s. Also, he had arranged for the signed copy and the salon well. He just wanted it to be the best day of your life in all sense.

———

Maybe you had been wrong. It had been a week since your engagement, but today was the best day of your life.

After learning the news, you had been euphoric. You wanted to tell Bucky as soon as possible, but he was too busy today and you knew better than to disturb him.

Before going home, you decided to celebrate a little and went to the nearby cafe. You ordered your favorite pastry and sat at one of the tables.

Suddenly there was a small pat on your shoulder. You turned around and saw the last person you expected in this cafe. “Tony?”

Tony Stark was a billionaire. Despite having all the money in the world, his heart wasn’t as healthy. And that’s when you came in. When he had first come in due to an emergency, you had treated him and ever since then he had become your patient.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked as he took the seat in front of you. “Having some coffee, I guess.” He said shrugging. And then his eyes fell on your ring.

“Woah! I see someone is engaged. Didn’t think you’d break my heart so ruthlessly.” He said pretending to be hurt. You excitedly nodded, “Just a week before.”

“Well, so who is the lucky man?” He asked. “Bucky Barnes.” You said smiling giddily. “I’m sure he must not be more handsome than me.” Tony quipped.

“You’ll be disappointed!” You took your phone out and showed him a picture of Bucky. Tony squinted his eyes and took your phone into his hands. “This is Bucky?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Why?” Tony seemed confused and then pulled out his own phone. “As long as I remember, his name is Andrew and he is already married.” Your eyes widened at that.

“What? You just be mistaken. Are you sure it’s him?” Tony nodded. “Yeah, see this. I met him around a week ago, that’s why I remember. Not gonna lie his wife, Sonya was impressionable.”

He said giving you his phone. There was a picture of Tony and a couple. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was indeed Bucky, and the worst part was, his ‘wife’ was none other than Nat.

~~~

You were sitting on your couch and crying when Bucky came home. “What happened?” He quickly kneeled on the floor besides you.

“I’m gonna only ask once, because I can’t emotionally afford to ask twice; what is going on between you and Natasha?” You ask, your eyes were blood red and puffy from all the crying.

“What?” Bucky took your hands in his and pressed kisses. “Don’t lie, I know everything. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“I don’t get what you are saying, doll.” You took out your phone and showed him the pictures Tony had sent you. At that Bucky scoffed, “Oh this!”

“Oh yes Andrew! What the fuck is even your name you liar!” At that Bucky’s demeanor grew serious. “Listen, it’s not what you think. Wait right here.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went upstairs.

“See this.” He said running downstairs and giving you a file. “And what is this? Your marriage certificate?” You asked incredulously. “Just read it once please.”

You took it and started reading. First it didn’t make sense but after some time it did. Bucky was an agent working for a secret government organization called ‘Avengers’.

“What is this Bucky?” He slowly started wiping your tears. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now. But I always thought that I’ll tell you tomorrow; but turns out tomorrow never came.

I know you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so this is the proof. My own file. I’ve worked as an Avenger for years. That day at Tony’s party we were undercover. And we pretended to be married. The ‘two weeks business trip’ was actually an undercover mission.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Bucky seriously! You couldn’t tell this to me before? Do you know what I’ve felt in the past two hours? I literally found out in the worst way possible, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” He pulled you closer to him and pecked you on your cheek. “This was some True Lies level shit.” You said laughing.

“So... now that you know this, I might as well confess something more.” You raised your eyebrows and wondered what all news today’s day was going to bring.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You nodded, you remembered that day very clearly.

It had been an excellent day. Your surgeries had gone perfectly but you were tired. So, you decided to do what you did every time you had a good day; go and eat a pastry.

As you entered the cafe, you could see the pastry section to be completely empty. You pouted and were sad to break the tradition. You inquired but they weren’t going to make any more pastries for the day.

As you were about to turn around and leave, you came face to face with the most handsome man you had ever met, his eyes were so captivating, you feared you’d get lost in them.

“I saw you wanted a pastry, well, I guess I have one and you can have it.” His voice was smooth and you swooned. “Uh, no it’s fine.”

“Oh, I insist.” You looked up at him and gave him a pleasant smile, “Why don’t we share?” You asked shyly. You spent the entire evening chatting and decided to meet the next day for a proper date. And that is how you had met.

“It wasn’t actually my first time. I had seen you before that at the hospital but I was undercover and so I couldn’t approach you.

But then I just got too shy to ask you out so I used to follow you around. I didn’t mean to creep or stalk. I just... God! This is embarrassing. But I kind of learnt your routine and habits.

I knew when you had a good day you would go and have a pastry at the cafe. That day before you went in, I bought all of the pastries. So, when I asked you whether you wanted to have mine; I actually had at least 23 pastries with me.”

You giggled at that. “Wait you are not mad?” You shook your head. “Actually, I would’ve been, but now that I know how you are, and that I love you so much, this is actually pretty cute.”

You stopped laughing and said, “Well, now that you’ve shared your secrets. I’d like to share something too. I fear I won’t be able to love you in the future as much as I do now.”

Bucky tensed up. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked adorable. “Because when a mini version of you will be running across the house, I swear to god I won’t be getting any reprieve.” You said snuggling him.

“I... what? Are you? Wait, is it what I’m thinking it is? Are we pregnant?”

“YES! You’re gonna become a daddy, James!”

[archived-kin]

local cashless god nearly loses you your job (but you’re okay with it)

note from kin: *throws this at you* please take it i’ ve been stuck on the blasted thing for hours (peepaw i promise i’ll write you something where you’re better characterised another day)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, zhongli, xingqiu

pairing(s): zhongli/reader

warning(s): none! (though i do want to give a heads up for some out of character stuff since i started this when i still wasn’t too familiar with the liyue characters)

genre: fluff

“How many copies of Encyclopaedia of Liyue does one man need?”

You shush Xingqiu as the man just across the shop continues to browse at his leisure, golden eyes furrowed in concentration as he trails his gloved fingers across the books’ spines. “Maybe he’s here to buy something else this time! You never know.”

“He’s bought the exact same book seven times in a row now,” Your little brother insists, pulling his nose out of his novel for once to regard the tall figure drifting listlessly from one end of the shop to the other. “I doubt he’s going to break the cycle now.”

“He could be a collector,” You suggest, dropping your voice slightly when the man’s eyes flicker over to you briefly. “This shop’s older than us - maybe it has a bunch of different editions that he wants to get.”

“Well, wouldn’t it make sense for him to find all the different editions and then buy them all at once?” Xingqiu whispers in reply, tapping restlessly at the countertop with one hand. “Then he wouldn’t have to stop by every day and charm you into paying for him.”

You don’t have a reasonable argument for that, so you don’t reply. Xingqiu really is too smart for his own good sometimes.

The man - who you can see is now flicking curiously through a copy of The Founder of Diabolism - isn’t someone you know particularly well, but he’s visited the bookshop where you work enough times that you do know the essential facts: his name is Zhongli, he likes drinking tea, and he’s broke. In every sense of the word.

That last point is quite the source of exasperation on your part. No matter how many times you remind him as he leaves, he never fails to turn up with a completely empty Mora pouch the next time you see him. At first it hadn’t been so much of a problem - he’d just come in, browse the books, start a little small talk with you, then leave. But then he’d actually started wanting to buy the books, and buying usually involves money - something that Zhongli seems to forget exists.

If it had been any other ridiculously handsome guy, you might have sent them packing, but there’s something about the lost look on Zhongli’s face when you ask him for his payment and he realises that he has no way of giving you one that never fails to make you get out your own Mora pouch and suggest that you foot the bill for him instead. Zhongli always tries to refuse your offer, but, in kind, you always insist. You have no idea why he has such an affinity for that particular book, but the way he smiles at you as you as you drop your own coins into the payment pouch is more than enough to make up for the money you lose. It’s not like you actually need the funds, anyway, considering who your father is.

Today, however, Zhongli has neglected the shelf of encyclopaedias in favour of drifting over to the Xianxia section. You’re not sure what’s spurred this change in interest, but maybe it’s the little toy dragon you’ve set on top of the shelf? Zhongli seems rather enamoured by it - he keeps glancing up at it while he reads.

Speaking of the book that he’s skimmming through, it’s a rather odd choice on his behalf. You haven’t gotten the opportunity to read it yourself, busy as you usually are between your work shifts, adventurer’s guild commissions, and making sure your little brother doesn’t get himself into trouble by wandering directly into a gang of hilichurls in the middle of reading a book again. You’re pretty sure Xingqiu has read it at some point, though - to be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already read every book in this shop several times over. (Part of you wonders if the only reason he’s so supportive of you venturing into the world and taking this job is because he gets to sit with you and read all the books he likes during your shifts.)

You don’t remember all the details he’d spewed off to you over the week or so he spent reading it, but you vaguely remember him crying into your sleeve about something to do with trees and lanterns and hugs. You’re also pretty sure that it got kind of… what’s the word? Risqué? Adult? Well, whatever word you use to describe it, it doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing that someone like Zhongli would read. Then again, you wouldn’t have ever expected your innocent gentleman of a little brother to read something like that, either.

“At least he seems to have good taste in fiction,” Xingqiu sighs as Zhongli continues to skim over the first few pages, looking rather intrigued. “I suppose that’s about as much as I can ask for…”

“He seems pretty invested,” You observe. “Reckon he’s going to buy it?”

Xingqiu shakes his head. “No. He’s going to come up here and realise he’s forgotten all his Mora again, and then you’re going to end up buying it for him again because you have a giant crush—”

You shove him in the shoulder so hard that he falls off his stool. “Oh, shut up.”

Xingqiu quickly catches himself on the side of the table and shoots you a glare, fumbling to retrieve the book that he’s accidentally dropped in the process. “Hey! This book doesn’t belong to us, you know.”

“It’s one book, A-Qiu,” You sigh as he turns away from you, clutching the book to his chest like it’s some precious child that you’re threatening to kidnap. “Mr Yao isn’t going to condemn you if it gets a little dusty.”

“Books should be treated with respect,” Xingqiu sniffs, turning up his nose at you like some nobleman - which he technically could be considered, now that you think about it. “You of all people should know that.”

“Just because I work at a bookshop doesn’t mean I think they’re Morax’s gift to man like you do,” You snort, noting in the corner of your eye that Zhongli’s eyes had flickered over to you briefly as you spoke. “Sure, books are neat, but they’re not holy.”

“‘Books are neat?’” Xingqiu repeats disbelievingly. “Of all the words to—”

“Excuse me.”

Both you and Xingqiu jump in startled surprise - neither of you had noticed Zhongli approach the front desk. You gather yourself quickly and smile at him as he quietly sets the book on top of the counter and pushes it towards you with a small nod.

“Will that be all?” You ask, reaching for one of the complimentary bamboo bookmarks that you’re obligated to give out with every purchase. You’re pretty sure that Zhongli has more than enough at this point, but you don’t want to risk getting into hot water with Mr Yao for not doing it.

Zhongli takes the bamboo bookmark with a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod and flick the book open to check the price label on the inside of the cover. “Alright, that’ll be… 5000 Mora, please.”

Xingqiu mutters something resignedly under his breath as Zhongli reaches into his pocket and fumbles about for a moment, clearly not particularly hopeful that the man has actually brought his money with him today. Your little brother, as usual, is perfectly correct in his intuition; after a second of slightly embarrassed silence, Zhongli pulls his hand out of his pocket with nothing in it.

“My apologies,” He sighs, bowing his head in shame. “I’ve forgotten my money pouch again.”

“I knew it,” Xingqiu whispers.

“A-Qiu, shut up,” You hiss back, then turn back to Zhongli, your smile back in place. “No worries, I’ll buy it for you.”

His brows pinch together slightly in the smallest of frowns. “No, no, you shouldn’t. You’ve already spent so much money on me…”

“It’s no big deal!” You assure him brightly, already reaching into your lapels to find your coin pouch. “You seemed to be really into it earlier, so it’d be a shame if you couldn’t keep it, right?”

Zhongli’s frown deepens. “Even so...”

“You could always pay back with something else,” Xingqiu chimes in, the exasperated look on his face replaced with a shit-eating grin that you know all too well. Before you can step in and shove him into the cabinet or something to shut him up, though, he continues, turning to you in a parody of innocence, “What do you say? Mr Zhongli clearly has some time on his hands…”

You narrow your eyes at him, not liking what he’s implying with that grin. “I’m still on shift, A-Qiu, I can’t just up and leave. Mr Yao would probably kill me.”

“You’ve been working shifts for two weeks straight,” He counters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I can mind the shop for a long enough for you to take a walk. He won’t notice a thing.”

“You won’t ‘mind the shop’, you’ll just sit there and read,” You shake your head and tussle his hair with a flippant hand. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up those antiques at the back.”

He looks affronted. “Are you accusing me of stealing intent?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” You explain patiently. “I’m just saying that your moral compass is very easily diverted when it comes to books.”

“If I may,” Zhongli begins, cutting off Xingqiu’s indignant spluttering. “I do not mind the idea.”

You turn to look at him in shock, only to see that his golden eyes are already fixed intently on you. He has the sort of gaze that makes you feel as if he’s seeing right through you, as if all of your faults and flaws and wishes and dreams are laid out bare for him to examine at his leisure - but Zhongli doesn’t look at you with any judgement. In fact, if you hope hard enough, you think that there might be some affection in his eyes.

“W-well, I—” You glance quickly back at Xingqiu, who pointedly refuses to help you, evidently offended by the moral compass comment. “I- I’d love to, honestly, but I need to finish my shift…”

“This young gentleman has already volunteered to take care of that for you,” Zhongli counters. There’s a strange intensity to the way he’s looking at you now - hope? Determination? “I know of a quiet spot just outside the harbour. If you would…?”

You glance at Xingqiu, who, despite still looking a little miffed, gives you a begrudging nod. After another moment of thought, you turn back to Zhongli, who gazes expectantly back at you.

“I’d love to go for a walk,” You say, standing up. “Lead the way.”

He smiles then, holding the door-curtain open for you to exit first. You pause briefly to wave a goodbye to Xingqiu, who pointedly sticks his nose in his book and pretends not to see it.

The two of you walk in silence for ten minutes or so, with him in the lead and you occasionally glancing behind you to make sure Xingqiu hasn’t already set the bookshop on fire or something. Zhongli walks rather more quickly than you’re used to, mostly because you usually walk with Xingqiu, who has refused to grow more than half an inch in the last three years and still has legs substantially shorter than yours. Zhongli seems to notice you lagging behind a little after a minute or so, slowing down his pace slightly so that the two of you can walk side by side properly.

“The breeze is pleasant this time of year,” Zhongli comments as the two of you cross the bridge to the mainland and begin to leave the harbour. “Particularly as the sun is going down.”

“I’ll have to get out to see the sunset more often, then,” You sigh. The amount of people milling about around you thins out the further the two of you walk from the harbour and along a grass-lined path, until the two of you are alone.

“I’d be happy to escort you,” He says, glancing quickly back at you, then snapping his head forward again. “...that is, if you’d like me to.”

You’re glad he isn’t looking at you, because you’re pretty sure that the look on your face is smitten to an absolutely ridiculous degree. It takes everything in you not to reach forward and grab Zhongli’s hand right then and there, but you restrain yourself just in time, knowing full well that initiating sudden physical contact with someone that you still don’t know all too well is incredibly rude.

“Of course I would,” You answer. “Just name a time and a place.”

He looks at you again, a gentle smile curving at his lips. “I’ll be sure to.”

The walk takes the two of you through a grove of trees dappled by the rich afternoon light. Zhongli speaks at length about the various different species that you pass; part of you is listening attentively, but the other part of you is far too distracted by the elegance of his quiet footsteps and the way the sunlight glows softly at the edges of his hair to register the information.

Leaves and branches crunch underfoot as Zhongli finally leads you out of the trees and out onto a quiet spot on the mountainside overlooking the harbour. He sits down on the ledge, legs dangling precariously over the edge, and you follow suit, quietly settling down beside him, leaving about two inches’ space between the two of you. Zhongli doesn’t say anything for a minute or so; he’s absorbed in watching the city below him, golden eyes darting back and forth as he watches the tiny figures of the people bustle about the streets.

You notice that he’s still holding the book you bought him earlier, keeping it set carefully in his lap with both hands placed firmly on top of it, as if he thinks it might slip out of his grasp and off the mountain if he isn’t careful.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” You begin, catching his attention. He turns to look at you, and the sudden sight of his content expression, framed by the sprawling fields and trees in the distance behind him and the light casting his features into sharp relief, knocks all the air from your lungs for a moment. You very nearly choke on your words, but manage to gather yourself in time to ask, “Why the sudden change in interest?”

He cocks his head ever so lightly to the side in confusion, then realises what you’re referring. “Ah - the book? I just wanted a change of pace, really.”

You nod in understanding. “I see. A-Qiu’s read that one. He says it’s one of his favourites.”

“Is A-Qiu the young gentleman accompanying you in the bookshop?”

“Yup.” You sigh, leaning back and kicking your legs slightly, noticing with some fascination that you can faintly see yourself reflected on the water far beneath you. “Xingqiu. He’s my little brother.”

If you squint hard enough, you can see Zhongli’s reflection in the water as well. He’s shifting slightly - is he moving closer to you? You can’t quite tell from the reflection alone, and you’re not about to risk looking at him. Zhongli is a little like the sun in that respect: warming you indirectly with his presence, but damn near blinding (and incredibly flustering) to look directly at or make eye contact with. He’s almost ethereal-looking - as if he isn’t quite of this world.

“He seems a well-intentioned boy,” Zhongli comments quietly.

You respond with a light-hearted scoff. “I’m not too sure about that. He’s good at hiding it behind a book and all those airs and graces, but he’s always annoying me.”

“Is that not what younger siblings are for?” He counters, eyes twinkling slightly as you laugh in reply.

“I guess they are, huh?” You shake your head, a grin continuing to play on your lips as you finally turn to look back at him. Somehow the blinding beauty of before feels as if it’s mellowed out, become softer around the edges - like a surging river calming to a trickling stream.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. The late afternoon breeze picks up a little, and Zhongli’s hair dances about on the air, twisting and curling in swirls as if the very wind is playing with it. You’re so occupied by (subtly) staring at him that the small movement of him lifting a hand to adjust his tie makes you jolt slightly on the spot.

You can tell that he’s noticed as well, so you hurry to start a conversation before he can bring it up. “So… what’s the fascination with Yi Xichen?”

“...ah.” You might be imagining it, but you think you can see a faint flush forming over his cheeks. “The encyclopaedias?”

“What else?” You swing your legs back and forth restlessly, leaning forward and resting your cheek in your hand. “You must have at least fifteen copies by now. Are you collecting them or something?”

“Well, no...” He glances away from you, intertwining his fingers. “I suppose I’m not particularly good at ‘acting natural’, am I?”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli fiddles slightly with the seam of his glove, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I have no need for encyclopaedias, but after the first few days, I found that I had fallen into the routine of selecting one every time I visited.”

“Why did you visit, then?” You ask.

He glances quickly at you, then back down at the water. He doesn’t answer at first, as if mulling over what to say, until finally, he replies, “...I suppose I just wanted to see you.”

It takes you a good moment to fully process what he’s just said to you. Once you do, though, your entire body implode. Well, it feels it does, anyway.

“I— you— me— huh?” is all you manage to get out at first, hands dancing around in front of you like two birds trying to escape from a net, as if they’re trying to physically pluck some words to say from the air. It’s a bad habit you’ve always had, throwing your hands about when you’re stressed; it drives you mad sometimes, but you can’t stop yourself.

Zhongli closes his eyes and bows his head, and there’s no mistaking it - his cheeks are definitely pinker than usual. “Is that alright?”

You nearly choke on air, but you force yourself to take a deep breath instead, fanning yourself briefly with one hand. Getting flustered heats you up surprisingly quickly. “Y-yeah! Of course it’s okay.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles a little bashfully, leaning forward and tilting his head slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but, if it’s alright… could I see you more often after today as well?

The sheer adrenaline rushing through you is so intense that you’re surprised that you haven’t busted a blood vessel yet. Actually, as far as you know, you might as well have - you’re far too focused on the man in front of you and his… confession? Is this a confession? You’ve read romance novels, sure, but is that how it works in real life as well? What are you supposed to do?

Your head is so filled with pure chaos that you just know that, if you speak, you’re going to say something completely inane and stupid. So, instead, you reach forward, and take his hand in your slightly shaky one.

He looks down at your intertwined fingers with mild surprise for a moment, then raises his gaze to you once more, eyes lighting up slightly. “...I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

You nod quietly, hesitantly shuffling closer to him. He squeezes your hand almost experimentally, then glances quickly back up at you as if trying to gauge your reaction. You offer him a smile; he returns it wholeheartedly.

You’re sure that you’ll have missed the rest of your shift by now, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Zhongli doesn’t let go of your hand, and you in turn do not move away from him - if anything, you move closer, leaning slightly into his side. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t object.

The sun is slowly beginning its descent, staining the sky a pale orange that reflects from the waters below you. It seems that the two of you will be seeing that sunset together a lot sooner than you had anticipated.

[alienguts]

Period Headcanons (Ash Williams x AFAB!reader)

Warnings: period mention, obv

Request?: No

A/N: it’s TMI but my period is kicking my ass right now so this came to mind and is pretty much everything I would want a boyfriend to do for me, OOC be damned.

As much as you might think Ash would be grossed out by you getting your period, he’s not actually that kind of guy.

He had a sister and a girlfriend in the past so he knows that it’s just a part of life that you unfortunately have to deal with when you're born with a uterus.

If he could afford a phone he would definitely call you from the feminine hygiene section of Smart and say “aight babe I’m in the pad aisle what size pussy you wear?”

It’s a joke, of course. He knows that pads don't come in sizes like underpants do.

He may be an idiot, but he’s not that stupid.

Will get you your pads or tampons (or both if you're an unfortunate soul like me) as well as a crap ton of junk food to help you feel better.

He will definitely look into if weed can help with cramps, as long as you're down with that. He won't push you into using any substances you don't want.

Ash gets a lot of his information on the menstrual cycle from the library because he’s a little embarrassed to ask you about the finer details of it (he very likely was one of those guys who thought you could hold it in once upon a time).

He will get a little pouty during your time of the month because you won’t want to get 🔥spicy🔥 with him, but it’s only a week so he’ll survive. (good thing he’s left-handed anyway)

If you’re a grumpy PMS kind of person he’ll know to give you your space until your hormones give you a break, whereas if you're a sad PMS person he’ll be there for you to cry or mope on, no matter how dumb the thing that you're upset about is.

He’s not afraid of blood or grossed out by it one bit so you don't need to worry about him finding you gross. It’s an unfortunate part of life that is perfectly normal.

[bellakitse]

Making friends in Life or Death situations

“No,” Nancy shakes her head quickly, tightening her hold on his face so he can focus on her. “You have to stay awake,” she continues, her voice cracking as fear grips her again. This is her friend, sure they don’t know each other that well, but Carlos is nice and sweet and the love of her partner’s life. He’s her friend, damn it, and she’s not going to lose him, not after losing Tim. “Please, stay awake.”

+

Carlos and Nancy are trapped together after a tornado hits the pharmacy they are in.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 2: Emergencies/“Please, stay awake.”/Angst

Nancy Gillian walks into the Walgreens just as her phone rings out another tornado warning. 

“Dear, we’re closing early, in 15 mins,” an older woman behind the counter says to her with a quick smile. “Because of the tornados.”

Nancy gives the woman a nod of acknowledgment and quickly makes her way down to the pet aisle. She wouldn’t even be out if it wasn’t for the fact that she realized she was down to her last can of cat food and with no time to make a Costco run for her new tabby. Looking through the limited selection, she picks a few of the chicken options, dropping them into her basket, and heads for the junk food aisle. Just some salt and vinegar Pringles to go with the leftover Easter chocolates she has back at her apartment, and she can head home and ride out the bad weather.

Turning the corner without looking in her rush to finish her shopping, she bumps face-first into a solid chest, bouncing right off it. She feels herself fall back and closes her eyes, bracing for the pain falling will cause, but it never comes. Instead, strong hands grab hold of her waist, keeping her upright.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry – Nancy?”

Nancy opens her eyes at the sound of her name, finding familiar brown eyes looking at her with concern.

“Officer Reyes!” she squeaks out, blushing when he raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, Carlos – hi!”

Carlos gives her a friendly smile in return. “Hello, Nancy.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly, gesturing around them. “I was in a rush to get what I need before the tornados touch down and wasn’t looking.”

“Same,” Carlos says with a laugh. “TK sent me to get what we need to ride it out before we are eventually called into work when it’s over.”

Nancy peeks into his basket, her eyebrows going up when she finds condoms, lubricant, and ice cream in it. “The essentials for sure,” she says dryly, biting back a smirk when she sees him blush and start to stammer in response. “Relax, officer,” she continues, feeling bad for how red he’s turned. “We all know how nauseatingly in love you and my partner are. This is not shocking.”

“Maybe not shocking, but embarrassing for sure,” Carlos grumbles back, scowling at her when she lets out a snort.

She grins at him, pleased when he gives her a reluctant smile back. She doesn’t know Carlos all that well. She’s been to his place a handful of times now that TK has made it a point to invite her when the rest of the 126 meets up at their apartment. But Carlos is usually in the kitchen making sure everyone is well-fed, and afterwards, he seems to enjoy sitting back and watch their brassier friends interact. She understands the instinct, feeling they’re a lot alike, which is why she can’t help but feel comfortable around him even though they’re not super familiar with each other.

She opens her mouth to tease him some more when a piercing siren rings out and the lights in the establishment flicker seconds before the whole place starts to shake.

“Shit,” Carlos curses, already on the move as he drops his basket and takes her arm, moving her further back.

“The cashier – “ she starts to say, only for her voice to get lost under the howling winds. It’s so loud; it sounds like a freight train barreling straight for them. She blinks, once, maybe twice, less than a second of time, but it’s all that’s needed for the front of the place to disappear under collapsing walls and ceiling.

She feels strong arms go around her waist, and the next thing she knows, she’s rolling across a hard surface and landing on the floor. Carlos covers her as best he can with his body, trying to make them as small as possible as they cower under the counter desk of the pharmacy section of the Walgreens. She can’t hear much past the whirling winds and her racing heart, but somewhere in there, she hears a hard grunt. She looks up at Carlos, still hovering over her, doing his best to protect her, but she sees pain clouding his expression.

“Are you okay?” she shouts, worry spiking her pulse as she sees a trail of blood rolling down the side of his face.

“Something hit me in the head and my back,” he grits out as the winds begin to calm down. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine; you’re bleeding,” she points out, not sure if he’s noticed yet. Given the way his eyes widen when he touches his hairline, she doesn’t think he has. She goes to say more when the walls around them let out a loud groan followed by a series of bangs as more of the place falls down around them.

She closes her eyes, tucking her face into Carlos’ shoulder.

Carlos pulls her closer to him in return, and she’s thankful for the kindness as she hides in his frame. If this is the end, she realizes she doesn’t actually want to see it.

A few minutes pass like this as she waits for it to end, be it the disaster or her life, she’s not really sure, but slowly the howling lessens until it’s only a dull echo in her ears.

“Nance – it’s stopping,” Carlos says softly, giving her a slight shake, bringing her back to the present.

Slowly she pulls back, surprised she can still see, realizing that somehow the lights have managed to stay on, flickering, but on. She looks at Carlos to find him giving her a concerned look.

“Well,” she starts to say, licking her lips nervously. “That was terrifying.”

Carlos lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a hiss.

“What, what is it?” she asks quickly as she watches his face go slightly grey.

“I – I think,” he stops, closing his eyes but not fast enough to hide the pain from her. “I think something is in my back?”

“What?” she squeaks out. She moves to her knees, her hands hovering over Carlos’ shoulders as he sits down on the floor with a heavy sigh. Going around him, she starts to probe him, stopping short when she feels something hard and jagged by the right side of his flank. She swallows a gasp as she realizes what it is.

“How bad?” he questions, his voice tight as the obvious pain starts to set in.

“It’s – it’s glass,” Nancy whispers with dread as she notices the patch of blood on his shirt is growing.

Carlos lets out a weary sigh. “Of course it is,” he mutters dryly. “TK is going to be so pissed.”

Nancy ignores his comment, starting to get up from under the desk counter. “Okay, we need to get you out of here,” she says, just for Carlos to let out a chuckle.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty sure the front of this place collapsed, trapping us back here,” Carlos says far more calmly than she feels the moment merits. “We are lucky the walls dividing the back of the pharmacy and the front held up – protecting us.”

Nancy looks through the counter’s window, where she would usually wait for her prescriptions to be filled, and realizes he’s right. Carlos pushing them behind the counter saved them, but now the whole front is a maze of rubble with no apparent way out.

“Fuck me,” she swears, feeling the frustration and panic build inside her. She lets it for a second before pushing it aside. She’s a trained paramedic, and right now, her main priority is making sure she stops Carlos’ from bleeding out. She looks behind her, letting out a relieved breath to see that the space they are in is relatively sound. If she’s going to be trapped with an injured person needing her care, there are worse places to be than a fully stocked pharmacy.

“Check your phone, Carlos,” she says to him, already on the move. “I’m going to get supplies to care for your injuries.”

She gets a grunt back from Carlos and takes it as an okay as she steps over the mess of pills and supplies on the floor and thanks whatever higher power might be watching over them when she finds bandages, alcohol, and even a pair of scissors in her search. She makes her way back to Carlos to find him hunched over, his expression dazed as he stares at his phone.

“Carlos?” she questions, repeating his name louder when he doesn’t answer right away. He blinks in her direction, and she can see he’s not all there with her. She ignores the trickle of fear that runs up her spine as a result. “Did you get through to anyone?”

Carlos shakes his head slowly. “The lines – they’re not – “

“Okay, that’s okay,” she rushes to reassure him as she comes to sit in front of him. She takes ahold of his face, feeling the tackiness of the drying blood on his head. Two injuries then, she makes a note. “We’ll try again after I bandage you up, okay?”

“I’m tired, Nance,” Carlos answers, his speech becoming slurred, and Nancy adds likely concussion to the list. “My side hurts, and my head.”

“I know, hon,” she answers with what she hopes is a comforting tone. “But I’m going to fix it, okay?”

Carlos blinks at her slowly. “Sleep.”

“No,” Nancy shakes her head quickly, tightening her hold on his face so he can focus on her. “You have to stay awake,” she continues, her voice cracking as fear grips her again. This is her friend, sure they don’t know each other that well, but Carlos is nice and sweet and the love of her partner’s life. He’s her friend, damn it, and she’s not going to lose him, not after losing Tim. “Please, stay awake.”

Carlos looks at her with wide eyes before slowly reaching up to touch her face, startling her as she realizes that it’s wet from tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Don’t cry, Nance.”

“Then stay awake,” she answers back, letting out a shaky smile when he gives her a solemn nod in return with an ‘I promise.’

“Okay,” she says softly, letting go of his face to turn to his back. “I’m going to clean and pack the wound. We can’t take the glass out because you’ll probably bleed more, but we can secure it.”

“Okay,” Carlos answers, giving her permission.

“Sorry about your shirt,” she says quickly as she starts to cut it up the middle.

Carlos lets out a hiss as she pours the rubbing alcohol over the wound. It’s thankfully not as big as she initially thought, but she winces when Carlos lets out a shout as she starts to press the gauzes around it. She tries to think of a way to distract him from the pain, letting out a quick breath when it comes to her. “Talk to me about TK,” she instructs him, hoping it will achieve the goal.

“TK?” Carlos questions sluggishly.

“Yeah, tell me about him, about the two of you,” she says as she rolls out more bandages.

Carlos lets out a sigh. It has the same sappy sound that she hears when TK talks about Carlos or is on the phone with him. “I just love him so much,” he answers, and even though she can’t see his face, she knows he’s smiling through the pain. “He’s beautiful and kind, silly and sweet, and when he looks at me the way he does, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I’m so lucky he loves me back.”

Nancy smiles at the comment; she’s heard TK say the same exact thing. She tells Carlos as she makes a quick finish of securing his wound before moving to face him and deal with his head injury.

“He has?” Carlos questions her with a boyish grin, looking loopier, his eyes heavy. “That’s good. I bought him a ring; now I just have to work up the nerve to ask him to marry me.”

Nancy stares at Carlos for a moment, sure that he wouldn’t have revealed that if he was in all his five senses.

“Are you sure I can’t sleep?” he questions quietly, swaying towards her.

Nancy shakes her head at him, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Not when she can see that his eyes are rolling back, and she has just enough time to keep his face from meeting the floor as he slumps forward.

“Carlos!”

 ֎֎֎

 Nancy has grown to hate the sounds and smells of hospitals. She thinks she’s lucky to not be a doctor or a nurse and not have to be in one every day, but she’s still in them enough because the people she cares about are danger magnets, and she hates it.

They get rescued not long after Carlos has passed out, but it still feels like eons to her. She rides in the ambulance with him, ignoring the paramedics that want to look her over in favor of holding Carlos’ hand. She doesn’t let go until she absolutely has to in order to allow the doctors to work, and she doesn’t break down until she sees TK walk through the hospital doors with a panic-stricken look on his face.

She cries on his shoulder, feeling horrible that he’s comforting her when it’s his boyfriend who is hurt. Fresh tears spring up when he hugs her tight, thanking her for saving the man he loves, and even though he tells her to go home, she waits until Carlos opens his eyes again.

She doesn’t have a home anyway; her neighbor left a message telling her the tornados destroyed her place, luckily he managed to get her cat out, watching over her until she can get back.

She sits in one of the uncomfortable but familiar chairs as the 126 and Carlos’ parents come and go in the later hours, all the while she remains next to TK as they wait for Carlos to wake up. It’s late at night, and TK has fallen asleep next to her when Carlos finally opens his eyes, and Nancy springs forward, rushing to his side, holding her breath as he slowly blinks to consciousness.

“Nancy,” he gets out roughly, and Nancy feels her eyes sting in return. “Are you okay?”

“You said you’d stay awake,” she accuses him as the tears roll down her face. “You promised.”

Carlos looks like he’s in pain, but it doesn’t stop him from giving her a kind look. He reaches out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I did. I’m sorry, Nancy.”

“You can keep calling me Nance,” she whispers, squeezing his hand back. “We’re friends now.”

Carlos smiles at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very cool,” he says softly before looking past her at his sleeping boyfriend. “Is he okay?”

Nancy nods, giving TK a soft look of her own over her shoulder. “He’s strong, and he knew you were going to be just fine,” she says with a smile. “Let me wake him up.”

She starts to turn, only to be stopped when Carlos holds on to her hand. “What I told you – “ he begins, looking at her with those big brown eyes of his that endears him to everyone who meets him, herself included.

“I’m not going to ruin your surprise,” she assures him, chuckling when he lets out a breath.

“Thanks, Nance,” Carlos says, smiling once more.

Nancy returns it kindly. “Hey, what are friends for.”

[hualianff]

《I》

Hearing this, XL pulls back to look at HC. He wipes at his tear-stained face, briefly thinking he must look a pathetic sight. 

“You- you haven’t?” XL timidly asks. HC shakes his head, lips pursed as if he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

An icky feeling of satisfaction bubbles in XL’s tummy. Before HC can respond, XL immediately straightens up as a realization hits him. A fresh wave of tears floods down his cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry, San Lang. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you earlier…” XL mutters shamefully, his voice cracking a little. He shifts his gaze downward, unable to meet HC’s eye. “I know your love life is none of my business.” 

HC sharply inhales at that. XL feels even guiltier knowing he’s offended HC.

“That’s not- wait-” HC begins.

XL makes a move to leave HC’s lap, except a pair of strong arms anchor him down. HC hugs him close, making it clear he’s not letting XL go. XL obediently melts into HC’s body. He’s always been weak for HC’s hugs. They make him feel unbelievably warm and safe.

“Oh, Gege, you really have no idea, do you?” HC whispers sadly. He lifts a hand to cup XL’s cheek, tilting the other’s head up to look at him properly. XL’s face scrunches up as he begins to cry again, soft sobs escaping his quivering lips.

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, look at me,” HC demands, firmly but not unkindly. He almost regrets his choice of words when XL complies, looking at him with teary eyes that resemble a kicked puppy. HC carefully thumbs away his tears. “Gege shouldn’t cry over things that don’t deserve his time. Even if it’s me.”

XL sobs so hard he hiccups.

“I-I’m s-sorry-“

“A-lian. No more. No more apologizing,” HC pleads, pressing a kiss to XL’s nose. “It’s you, my love. It’s always been you.”

XL makes a confused noise. He must have heard wrong because HC certainly couldn’t be implying that XL is the one he loves.

“W-what?”

HC smiles comfortingly, one eye shining with unyielding affection. He wraps his arm around XL’s shoulder, pressing their bodies impossibly close, providing XL the physical contact he desperately needs.

“I’ve loved you for so long. I don’t even remember what it’s like to not be in love with you,” HC murmurs, voice laced with restrained emotion. XL gasps at the confession–a confession meant for him. Has he been the one this entire time?

Somehow, in the back of XL’s mind, it makes sense.

“You- you love me?” XL chokes out, wondering if he heard correctly. He unconsciously grips a section of HC’s shirt, wanting to keep as little space between them as possible. 

“Hn.”

“For years?”

“Hn.”

XL nuzzles against HC’s neck, breathing in his minty scent. His sobs have reduced to shuddery breaths, now struggling to breathe for a whole different reason.

“…you called me A-Lian,” XL grumbles out half-heartedly. 

Without missing a beat, HC asks, “Hmm, do you not like it?”

“I love it,” XL answers, the rush of euphoria seeping into his veins. It must be because he’s coddled right up to HC. After all, HC is the one who makes him the happiest. “And…I love you. It’s been a long time for me too.”

HC smiles against XL’s temple. 

“I’m glad Gege feels the same. As you heard earlier, I had my doubts. You’re so good, A-lian. Don’t you know? You’re like a precious ray of sunshine that everybody naturally gravitates to and you connect with them. You treat them with compassion. You uplift them. You fight for them and protect them.”

XL’s eyes widen at the sheer passion of HC’s words. He wonders if HC is using the word “them” to refer to HC himself.

“Your impact on people’s lives is invaluable. You are simply amazing. Anybody would be lucky to have you by their side,” HC continues.

“San Lang…” XL says though he’s at a total loss for words.

“I always selfishly wished for you to love me the same way I loved you. But I was afraid your affections towards someone like me were merely platonic. He Xuan told me to suck it up though, said it would make your birthday if I confessed,” HC says. He runs his fingers through XL’s hair again, pushing away the strands that stick to his damp face.

HC frowns.

“But I made you cry instead,” he says regretfully.

“I thought…” XL starts but cuts himself off. It’s a little embarrassing to admit how worked up–how jealous–he got over the possibility of HC loving another. 

“You thought I would confess my feelings to someone else on your birthday? At your birthday party?” HC finishes XL’s thought, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Kind of.”

HC scoffs.

“Maybe.”

“Gege.”

“Well, yes-“

HC grasps the sides of XL’s face in his hands, connecting their foreheads as he speaks with disdain.

“If I had done that, you’d have every right to beat my ass and sever all contact with me. You hear me? That’s an asshole move and completely unacceptable.”

An hour ago, this scenario made XL’s stomach churn in a nasty way almost to the point of puking. He doesn’t know what he would have done if HC had slipped through his fingers. Even if this had occurred on his birthday, XL doesn’t think he could have cut HC out of his life. XL can live without HC’s love, but not without HC himself.

But now, with the confirmation that HC actually reciprocates his feelings, XL feels as light as a feather, his heart no longer clouded by the fear of rejection. 

“I know. But I can never stay mad at you. You always treat me well. Even when I am upset, you make everything better. Just by being you. You're my favorite person to be around and...I’m just so glad you love me,” XL says, his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“What, like it’s difficult?” HC laughs, rubbing their noses together. “Loving you is as easy as breathing. Loving you itself is like a breath of fresh air. I live to love you, gege. Best decision of my life.”

For the third time that day, XL’s eyes tear up, his heart overjoyed. A few memories flit through his head: him and HC going out for coffee, going on road trips together, taking long walks in this very park. Mundane memories where they did so little, yet HC made him feel so much. 

“All this time?” XL whispers. 

“Yes,” HC whispers back. “All this time and forever on, I am yours.”

As XL leans forward to peck his beloved’s cheek (“Gege, you missed.”), he internally muses that his birthday wish came true. 

Three years later, HC makes XL cry on his birthday again–this time by getting down on one knee with a ring pledging their eternity.

[jadelynlace]

The First Time Part I / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

request by: @quantumlocked310 and you can find the ask here (request are open! and for more things than just Ink Drinker!)

✎ full series post is here.

author’s note: after the angst that was chapter five, we’ll take a journey on the way-back-machine to the very first time. and yes, there will be another part to this. just about 3200 words (I’m sorry).

content warning: smut, mostly [oral m&f receiving, protected sex], and Ivar being a smart mouth.

synopsis: you can finally both look, and touch.

✎

His eyes spent the greater part of the evening lingering on you; cerulean orbs tracing the hem of your clothes, and he couldn’t figure out why. There was a bite on your tongue that met back with his and by your third drink he could have sworn the eyes you were giving him belonged only in the bedroom. Maybe it was the cold bitter of the sour brew he had downed, maybe it was how the girl he was interested in suddenly stepped away when he asked her what they were. “It was fun while it lasted, but I’m not looking for anything like that, with you, Ivar.” And he hasn’t heard from her since, and he knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you for driving me home,” You say suddenly, drowning out the low music in the cabin of his mustang. “I’m really not drunk but I’m not going to argue with Mother Hen—I mean Hvitserk,” and Ivar only chuckles at that.

“Not a problem,” He says back and his voice is flat now, drowned with a hidden emotion that is foreign to his speech.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask and his eyes flash to yours. Their first glance is nearly annoyed but they soften the moment they connect to yours before your own orbs scurry away. Ivar looks sad and in his best ability to try to hide it he was showing it even more so.

“You know that’s not a good idea, princess,” 

“I’m not your fucking princess,” You snip back and feel a wave of shame cross you. An unspoken boundary already breeched too far and you’re embarrassed with the sudden rejection. “Just—let me know when you make it home, alright? And when you have that design all done,” You mumble and he nods. “Drive safely.” And the door slamming echos through a quiet parking lot.

The elevator ride to your flat is lonely, locked in the metal box and you can’t stop how your mind wants to pick apart your actions. How you already have a plan formulating for the next time you see Ivar, and how you’re probably done with the outings because his mouth was two sizes too big. And then you think he’ll tell Hvitserk that you tried to invite him up—not even under the false tense that you’d spread your legs for him, even if you would. He was veiled in a sadness and the man just looked like he could use a hug. You put the television on to drown out the silence as you went about washing up, letting hair down and pulling on sleep clothes. Through the pour of another glass of wine you heard a knock.

Ivar drove around the block twice. Another right hand turn at the traffic light and pulled back into the same spot and sat there for five minutes. Turning the idea over in his head and he felt like a waste of space for declining your invite, teasing you even though you could take it. He wondered if it was the first and last one. You looked too damn beautiful for the bullshit you endured with his brothers and he wondered why you even decided to put up with the five of them. But instead he took the steps two at a time and was outside your door before his mind had a chance to catch up to what he was doing.

“I’m sorry I called you princess,” are the first words that drip from his tongue when you peel the door back. Weight against the frame and his coat is off now in the warm evening air, biceps colored with designs meeting your vision and you only offer him a small smile. But you don’t miss how the softness takes to his face when he sees you in such a raw, makeup-let appearance. 

“I accept your apology, Ragnarsson,” You say back. “Why isn’t it a good idea?” 

“What?”

“You said it’s not a good idea that I invited you up—why?” You ask and Ivar offers you a shrug.

“Figured it was the alcohol talking—I’m not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?”

“Someone you’d seem interested in hanging out with if there wasn’t one of my brothers in tow….” Ivar finally admits and he casts a gaze down on the hallway’s floor.

“Actually Ivar, to be perfectly blunt, I’m kind of fucking sick of them all. And you are someone I would hang out with. But, if you don’t want to that’s fine.” You say.

“No—no it’s not that—actually, you know what. You’re right,” Ivar finally says and walks into the threshold.

“I have wine, and I think there’s vodka left—I haven’t gotten anymore whiskey.” You say as he pulls his boots off, seating them parallel by the door. 

“Vodka’s fine,”

“Straight?”

“I am, yeah.” Ivar quips back and you press your forehead against the fridge’s door.

“I see your smart ass mouth doesn’t stop when you’re by yourself,” You grumble back. “Want to pick a movie?” Just as the words leave your mouth there’s an obnoxious ring from your pager and you all but take the damn device and throw it into the far wall. “I swear to fucking God if Hvitserk caught his apartment on fire trying to deep fry a fucking candy bar I’m going to run him over with the ladder truck.” You grumble to yourself and Ivar can’t stop the smirk that comes to his lips as he walks through the living room. But the call isn't for you.

“Maybe one day he’ll tell you about the time he tried to put a Hershey bar through a juicer, to make drinkable chocolate. Verses you know—melting it in the microwave,” Ivar says as he flops against your couch. “Clearly his brightest moment.” 

“He was making dinner for the station and we got an echo right as his oil heated to temperature and he almost started crying because he had to turn it off. Echo means we need to be there in the next five seconds, basically.” You say back and you find your seat on the other section of the sofa, handing the bottle to Ivar and the first glass you could grab. “How was your day, Ivar?”

“My day?” He asks, unscrewing the cap, unprepared to even be asked that. “My day was…..fine. I did a walk in on a sorority girl and they played truth or dare while I tattooed her.” Ivar adds and he chuckles slightly. 

“I haven’t played that game since I was in high school,” You laugh, snatching the remote.

“Truth, or dare Y/N?”

“Oh fuck off what are you—twelve?”

“On a scale of one to ten, yes.” Ivar says back and there’s a bastard smirk on his face as he takes the first shot back without a grimace. You take the cup from his hand and pour your own shot and toss it back. 

“Truth,” You say back and Ivar only smacks his lips together. They push forwards as he thinks, turning thoughts over in his head and his mind still comes up blank. There’s too much he wants to ask about you and in the mess of trying to decipher his mind goes silent.

“When we were all at the dinner, for my father’s company and you came with Hvitserk—remember he left for a structure fire?”

“I remember,”

“And I asked if you weren’t into the million dollar crap, so we left and went to that little diner in town?”

“I still remember, Ivar, I was there,” You sing.

“Why did you agree to go with me?” Ivar asks back and takes the bottle. His mouth goes around it and he tosses a shot back and your eyes catch his lips as they move. 

“Because the dinner was quite boring and Hvitserk left so I didn’t feel invited and I wanted to leave. And that diner has damn good pancakes.”

“Fuck they do.” He moans back and you clench your thighs without even realizing it.

“Truth or dare, Ivar?” You say and he takes the hair tie from his locks as he tosses them to spin about.

“Truth,” He challenges back.

“Do you really have a bachelor’s degree in calculus?”

“Who told you that?” He rumbles suddenly and his eyes level with yours.

“Hvitserk did—was he not suppose to?” You peep back startled but then Ivar relaxes.

“I just don’t like people knowing that,” He mumbles and tosses the bottle back. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“Is being a paramedic the only thing you’ve done?”

“I wan an EMT first and then a paramedic, but yes it’s the only thing I’ve done.” You reply and Ivar hands you the bottle back like you’ve earned it for answering his question. This shot burns a bit more and your watching the man before you relax back along your sofa. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“You are no fun,” You groan.

“What are you going to dare me to do?” Ivar laughs and you bite the bottom of your lip as you look at him. Me, you dumb ass. Ivar watches you as you do, eyes flicking over him and you hand him the bottle.

“Is Sigurd fun to work with.”

“Fucking no.” Ivar groans quickly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“How…how drunk are you?” Ivar asks suddenly.

“Not drunk at all, why?”

“Just checking,”

“Truth or dare?” You hum.

“Dare,” and your eyes flicked up to his.

“If I dared you to fuck me, would you?” You ask him and Ivar sucks in a breath as his pupils widen and he nods slowly.

“In a fucking heart beat,” He moans and you set the bottle on the coffee table haphazardly. You’re across the couch then and over his lap and his eyes are stuck on yours but he’s still frozen under you.

“I’m not made of glass, Ragnarsson,” You say softly and that propels him, his hands grabbing your cheeks to pull you closer. The first kiss is rushed, heated and mixed with a tangle of teeth and tongue and too many hours of just looking at one another without the ability to touch. When you pull back suddenly Ivar freezes, thinking you’re having a second opinion on the situation but he watches you pull the top from your body and you’re suddenly standing bare chested before him. He follows suit only seconds later, standing and tearing his top and your mouth opens. There’s no spot on his torso that isn’t covered and your eyes scan the artwork as you feel the flutter in your abdomen take notice. “Oh my god, Ivar,” You say softly and your nails trace along what you see first. Ivar hums in response as his body looms closer to yours, and you’re turning, walking to your room and Ivar is on your heels. 

Your back meets the bed before Ivar is crawls over you, swarming you against the sheets as you move back. Large body on display and your fingers don’t know where they want to start. When his lips dip into your jaw line, suckling on the skin over your pulse point you moan, a noise that jabs Ivar right in his crotch and he needs to hear it again.

“I won’t put any where they’re be seen over your uniform,” Ivar whispers and his lips dip lower, tracing along your collar bone before there’s a squeeze to your chest from his hand and you moan twice as loudly. You can feel him smirk as he journeys, stopping right at your shorts. You only pull away slightly to wiggle to where your top drawer is, tossing the foil packet at him and he gives you a glare. “Really?” He asks as he holds the packet in his fingers.

“Yes.” You say back. “I don’t know where your dick has been.”

“I”m clean,” He snarls back.

“You don’t have to get laid, Ivar,” You sass.

“No, I don’t,” He grumbles back.

“But you want to….” You sing.

“Uh—yeah I do. Have you seen yourself lately?”

“Then put on the fucking condom, Ivar. Don’t be a dick. Do you need me to do it for you?” You ask in a fake whine.

“Yes, I do,” Ivar challenges back and you’re moving, slipping off the bed and sinking to your knees in front of him, sight alone causing his heart to quicken with a twitch of his cock under the fabric. Pulling the band of his boxers down, his length comes free and you have to bite back your own moans at the sight of him. With the size of that man you’re not shocked with how much he packs and your chest heaves when his cock comes to your face. Flattening your tongue, to take to dragging it from his base to his tip, a throaty groan leaving his mouth as you work. You feel his hand card in through your hair as your tongue spreads over the under side of him; the veins, the ridges, and all of the skin making themselves known against your tastebuds as he moans your name. Finally pulling away, you roll the rubber over him and scurry back up along the sheets. 

Ivar wastes no time to climb over your, giant towering of a man between your bent knees as he pulls them apart. Too many agonizing seconds before he finally slips your panties off, another low noise of arousal from him at the mere sight of you. Laying bare and glistening before him and he grows excited as he sees the glimmer of your arousal from him between your slit. With your legs spread, Ivar presses his chest where they’re split as you feel him drag his tongue through your folds. The sight of him between your thighs was far worth all of the back talk, all of the petty bickering and mutual death threats in the the world. Ivar lets out a hum as your nectar spreads over his lips, moistening his tongue while his fingers dig farther in your thighs.

“So sweet baby…” He moans before he lets saliva dribble from his mouth as a string lands against your slit, pushing it back through as his lips went to roaming. Your nails sneak into his hair, pulling it like reins as your spine arches.

“You’re…you’re really good at this,” You whisper, body flushed and far too warm as you feel the pleasure creep up through your skin. Ivar only hums in agreement, bastardly tone still as his tongue swirls your clit. He pulls back suddenly, crawling back up over you because he simply can’t wait any longer. His mouth is skilled, still hot and tangling with yours between tongues and teeth and you can taste your juices on him. His weight rests between you and you can feel him just past your opening as his mouth stops. “We don’t tell anyone,” You whisper as his forehead stays still along yours. Ivar pulls himself up then, kneeling between you with his cock in his fist.

“Promise,” Ivar says solidly, pushing his cock slowly as it melts into you. His chest heaving as he watches himself bottom out, wrapped snug in your wall as he lets out the most guttural moan your ears have heard to date. “Oh—fuck,” He rasps, head tipping forwards slightly. “You’re so much tighter than I imagined,” He growls as he plants arms on each side of you, eyes finding yours. A blushed face and mouth spread open with how he’s stretching you, pushing past any other lover you’ve laid with. Through a languid roll of his hips he moves again, moans singing between the both of you. Ivar only pulls back enough to where your hips try to chase him and catch him, but instead he snaps back inside. Reaching for him—trying to ground yourself as he drills such pleasure through your body—Ivar gladly meets you half way, covering you and grabbing the sheets by your head for leverage as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re so deep,” You whimper, his forehead on yours and he can only nod as a reply, slowing his hips some as the sounds of how he moves through your folds fill the room.

“Feel so fucking good,” He rasps as his mouth catches yours, hips starting to pick up their pace as his body moves yours with the bed. “God you feel so fucking good,” And one hand starts skimming the curve of your body, trying to memorize how you feel under his touch so he has that forever engrained in him.

“Ivar—Ivar—I’m—close,” You start, knees locking against his side as your nails dig into inked shoulders. Words fail you as your release comes closer, rolling towards you like a loose freight train as Ivar’s noises match yours, thrusting hard, deep presses inside of you and your body is curling against his.

“Me too baby—come all over me,” He grunts, his mouth by your ear as he deepens his thrusts. “All fucking over me,” Ivar demands and his words make you whimper as they become the single driving phrase for your orgasm to grab you. You can only nod and hold onto him as your moans rise in octaves as your walls contract around him, locking him still momentarily as he watches you finish. Tossing your head into the pillows as he slows, nails raking down his back as if they’re trying to leave lines in their wake that’ll match the tattoos. “Good girl…” Ivar purrs from above you, lips brushing the skin on your cheek before they’re slide to your mouth. You only offer him a hum in response as your body floats down, Ivar own’s end coming closer as his body presses you against the bed, his hips starting back up quickly. Skin slapping skin as Ivar crushes you against the bedding, his forehead plastering to yours before you feel him shake slightly, vibrate as a low groan grew through his chest, his own release filling the condom. His lips faltering some as the sounds float back to your mouth and you have never heard a more blissful noise. One that you already needed to hear again, dance around the walls of your room and through your body. Stilling over you with heavy breathing mixing in between, Ivar pulls up slightly, relishing in your new found freedom but immediately missing the weight over you, nearly grinding your bones. You watch him rise and look down at you with blue irises moving through yours.

“You alright?” He asks softly.

“Don’t go all soft on me now, Ivar,” You tease with a curl of your lips and you’re quite frankly shocked that that he even cared to ask. He rolled his eyes before leaning back, lips against yours once.

“I usually go soft after I come, princess,” Ivar teases, finally pulling himself from inside of you, rolling the used condom off with a tissue and tossing it. You take to finding your clothes, moving yourself solely in the motions to distract your wandering mind and leave it at the door. Climbing back under your bedding, you hear Ivar move, pulling his own boxers on and you wonder how he’s going to leave it. Instead you feel the bed dip, arms latching around you and pulling you closer. “Is this alright?” Ivar whispers as he settles with you.

“Yes,” You peep softly. “I didn’t think you snuggled,” and Ivar only clicks his tongue at that.

“I can leave, if you like!” He says back.

“No—please don’t,” You reply quickly, melting back against him and he smiles.

“Smart choice,” Ivar says as you reach to turn the light off, the sound of the ceiling fan taking over the room and he crushes you closer. “I didn’t want to leave anyways.”

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