#like it’ll start and i’ll be like oh what’s on that’s MA?? then the list keeps going and. yep. nothing else has all that

[danielnelsen]

the one time of the year i end up sitting here watching rage for a few hours lmao

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: It’s suiting that it's hump day cause I feel like cole is into that.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slice into a cucumber, moving the knife carefully. As you focus on the task, you notice Aunt Bev’s glances. Are they intentional or is she concerned? You keep the blade steady and slow, sure not to catch your fingertips. 

“Hon, did you want to borrow one of my skirts for dinner?” She offers. 

You look down at yourself. You think the jeans and tee are just fine but now you’re doubting yourself. You blink at her and shrug. 

“Should I?” 

“It’s up to you, of course. Just whatever you’re comfortable in. I just have this nice blue flowery one and it suits you better.” 

“Well, I...” you put the knife down and gather up the cucumber in your hands, dumping it onto the bowl of lettuce, “I could try it on.” 

You grab the dish rag and wipe your hands. You just want to make her happy. You never had someone like Aunt Bev, someone who is happy over the smallest things. She makes everything you do seem like some great achievement. 

“Oh, come on, it’ll be nice,” she insists and gestures you down the hall, “in here.” 

You follow her upstairs to the bedroom she shares with your uncle. She rolls open her closet as she hums. She pulls out a wrap skirt; blue petals on white. 

“You’ll need a shirt to go with it,” she insists, “one sec.” 

She hands you the skirt and turns to sift through a dresser draw. She pulls out a plain chiffon blouse with a little scallop at the bottom. “It will go nicely.” 

“Thanks, uh, but what... what if I spill?” 

“That’s okay, honey,” she holds out the shirt, “you can keep them. They’ll look much better on you.” 

“Oh, uh,” you look down then up again. 

“You just get changed,” she sweeps past you, “I’ll be downstairs.” 

You can’t deny her. The door closes before you can even think of changing your mind. It would be rude to say no anyway. They’re such nice clothes. You look down at what you’re wearing and crumple inside. You made the wrong choice again. You should’ve known to dress up for company. 

You change as quickly as you can. You carry your clothes back downstairs and into the small room you’ve been allotted. It was once Aunt Bev’s craft room. You feel bad about that too. 

You return to the kitchen. She’s not there. You rinse some cherry tomatoes and quarter them on the wooden cutting board. As you do, you hear voices. 

Aunt Bev strolls in as Cole follows her. You don’t turn to see. You’re too shy. You hope he doesn’t even notice you. 

“Oh, honey, you look lovely,” she chimes as she nears the counter and sets down a round pan, “isn’t it wonderful, Cole brought dessert.” 

“Ma sent a pie,” he explains, “do you like rhubarb?” 

You want for Aunt Bev to answer. She doesn’t. You look up and over and realise they’re watching you. Oh. 

“Uh, I never had it.” 

“Never had rhubarb?” Cole blusters, “well good news, my ma makes the best strawberry rhubarb crumble.” 

“Um, oh, thanks,” you try to smile but your lips just strain tightly over your teeth. You turn back to the counter and add the tomatoes to the bowl. 

“Salad looks yummy. Very colourful,” he comes closer. He’s so tall you can’t help but shrink down. “Bev’s right, that’s a really nice skirt. Suits you.” 

“Thanks,” you cheep. 

“Can I help with anything?” He offers. 

You look around him at Aunt Bev. She smiles and gestures as if to say, ‘go on’. You turn back to the cutting board and lay the knife down. 

“I’m almost done,” you say, “no thank you.” 

“Well, when you’re done, honey, why don’t you show him the garden?” Bev suggests, “she has really livened it up, you know? She spends hours out there.” 

“I’m sure. I’m excited to see it,” Cole agrees as he lingers close by, “nice house. Cozy.” 

“Ah, you know, we try to make it home,” your aunt preens. “I didn’t even say how nice you look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tie.” 

“Shucks,” he waves her off as he leans on the counter right next to your work space. 

You go to the fridge to get the container of feta and come back to sprinkle it over the salad. 

“Smells delicious too. Did you cook all this?” Cole asks as he looks down at you. 

“No,” you shake your head, “just the salad.” 

“She’s a good helper,” Bev beams and nears, taking the bowl from in front of you, “I’ll just go set this out on the patio table, why don’t you two go check out the garden?” 

“I’d love to,” Cole stands straight, “ladies.” 

He waves ahead of him and you hesitate. You pause to put the feta away then follow Bev towards the sliding doors. She goes out onto the deck and plants the large bowl on the wooden table. She stays there as you drag your feet past. You do your best to keep moving as you feel Cole getting too close. 

You go down the steps, nearly stumbling at the bottom. You cross your arms as you approach the garden where daffodils stand tally among the pansies. He puts his hands on his hips as he steps up. His blue eyes rove over the foliage as he peruses it thoughtfully. 

You peek over at him. He wears pale khakis and a grey button up rolled to his elbows, a trim of teal along the buttons. He wears a tie in a darker shade of grey as his hair is even fluffier than the last time you saw him. You shy away before he can catch you. 

“Wow, it’s so nice, and the placement is wonderful. Great for crossbreeding,” he points around. “You know a lot about plants?” 

“I read,” you say. “Library books. Aunt Bev brings them home.” 

“I love the library,” he chirps. 

“Oh, I don’t... I haven’t gone.” 

“Yet,” he insists, “one day, I’m sure.” 

You nod and fold your arms. You sway and search the grass. He kneels by the edge of the garden and touches a leaf. 

“What happened to your daylilies?” He asks. 

You bounce on your toes, “put them in my room.” 

“Really? You must have petals all over,” he chuckles as he continues to rustle the plants, feeling each one. “Do you have a favourite?” 

“I don’t know, they’re all pretty.” 

You nibble your lip. He talks a lot. He makes you talk a lot. You sniff and squeeze your arms. 

“Don’t get lost out there,” Aunt Bev startles you as she calls from the deck, “I’m about to bring the rest of the food out.” 

“Ah, thanks, Beverly,” Cole waves at her and smiles, turning to look at you, “shall we?” 

“Okay,” you don’t move. He doesn’t either. 

“You go first,” he says. 

You do as he says and he follows. The skirt flutters around your legs, swirling in a way that tickles the back of your knees. You’re not used to it. You never really wore one before.  

As you come up on the deck, he trails you toward the table. He sidles past you and pulls out a chair before you can do it yourself. He opens his hand to the seat, “please.” 

“Uh, thanks, you don’t have to...” 

“My ma always taught me manners,” he assures. 

You sit and he slides the chair toward the table, trapping you in it. He claims the one next to you, his elbow almost on the armrest of yours. You make yourself small. You’re really good at that. You miss when you could be invisible. 

Bev appears again, a long pare of tongs in her hand. She approaches the roiling BBQ and opens it up. As she turns the drumsticks, she smiles over at the table. 

“Don’t you two look ready to eat,” she trills. “I just told the others to come out and get a plate. Just gotta get this chicken and the potatoes.” 

She uses the tongs to transfer the drumsticks to a large serving plate. Cole clears his throat and gets up. He goes to take it from her and brings it to the table. 

“You are just the biggest, sweetheart,” she grins, “your mother must be so proud. Such a lucky lady.” 

“I do what I can,” he says, “don’t want you to burn yourself.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. You do too much of that,” she removes the wrapped potatoes from the grill next, “I can’t thank you enough for helping us last weekend.” 

“Really, it’s fine. It was a very busy weekend,” he meets her again to take the next tray, “I can tell a lost soul when I see one. I figured it was best to get her out of the tide before it swallowed her up. Sometimes I even get overwhelmed.” 

“It really was so amazing,” she insists, “we got more than enough. You make sure you take leftovers for your mother. She sent that lovely pie.” 

“Sure,” he agrees easily as he sets down the potatoes. He sits down once more, further crowding you. Is he that big or that oblivious. “She’s a nice girl,” he peers over at you and you look at the table, “I couldn’t just let her get lost.” He turns slightly in his chair, towards you, “I hope it didn’t scare you away. I have some new stuff I’m bringing next week; thought maybe you’d like to see.” 

“Oh, you know that would be so lovely, honey.” 

“If that’s too much,” Cole leans his elbow on the arm rest and extends his fingers as he speaks, “she could come up and see them at the farm. Right in their natural habitat.” 

“The farm?” Bev exclaims, “how exciting.” 

“Of course, you’re all welcome to come up and see. My ma loves having a full house but my sister never comes around anymore and it was only ever the two of us. She always wanted more but, ah, you know?” 

“That’s too bad,” Bev says, “but that would be so wonderful. Honey, wouldn’t you like to go see all his flowers?” 

“I could use some help potting too, if you have a set of hands to spare,” he suggests. “Not that I’m looking for free labour, I just... figured.” 

“We’d love to help out, wouldn’t we, honey?” 

That’s it. She’s given the answer for you. You can’t disagree with her or you’d be mean. You’re not a mean person. Not like she always said you were. 

“Sure,” you murmur. 

“We’ll make a day of it,” she sings, “just let me know when.” 

“Will do,” Cole says brightly. “Sorry, I’m a dweeb about these things. I don’t really meet a lot of people who like flowers as much as me.” 

“We can all use friends,” Bev goes to the sliding door and pushes it open, “right, hon?” You nod, choked of your voice and she sighs as she pokes her head inside, “where is everyone?” 

🌷

You help clear the table after dinner. You sit down as Cole gets up and you’re relieved to be on your own. The others sit on the other side of the table; Uncle Morris along with your cousins, Mason and Lena. The latter two are on their phones and Uncle Morris chews on toothpick. 

You’re content enough to watch the clouds in the sky. Aunt Bev is so good at keeping things lively but you never know what to say. You don’t really feel safe around anyone but her. She’s the one who found you, who helped you. 

You look down at your hands and the faded welts. There’s more up your forearms and on your legs. They are almost indiscernible, though a few are stark enough to be picked out. You rub your hands together, as if you might wipe them away. Some memories are wrought as much into your skin as your mind. 

The sliding door opens and your Uncle Morris sits up and pats his stomach, “ah, about time. Dessert! The best part of dinner.” 

Bev and Cole dole out the saucers. Yours is placed before you as he sits next to you again. You take your fork and spin it nervously. Morris is quick to dig in as your aunt asks Mason and Lena about school. Their conversation edges you out, but you’re used to that. You prefer it. You never have much to add. 

“You gonna try it?” Cole keeps his voice low as he pokes at his crumble. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you scoop up some of the reddish pink goop and oats. 

“You have to tell me the truth, if you like the rhubarb. I gotta report back to ma.” 

You nod and take a bite. You don’t like how he watches. It makes you self-conscious. His eyes linger on your hand as you slid the fork from your mouth and chew the tart dessert. Your cheeks pinch and you swallow tightly. You like it. 

“Well?” He nudges you and you wince. “Oh, sorry, are you okay? Was that too hard?” 

“No, I... I liked it,” you put the fork down and try to hide your arms. They’re oversensitive. Most of you is; just brushing against furniture can make you whimper. “Thank you.” 

“Told you, ma makes the best,” he proclaims, but a vee of worry remains between his brows, “you sure I didn’t hurt you?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you insist. You have to act normal. 

You grab your fork and take another bite. He continues to watch you, moving the crumble around as he does. You wish he'd stop looking so much. 

“Oh, wow, did that hurt?” He points to the back of your hand. That one scar that stands out. 

“No,” you lie. 

“What happened?” 

You shake your head, “nothing.” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you hiss and drop your fork. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset,” your eyes well and you flick your lashes. Your hand throbs. You hear the snap of the switch, you feel it against your tendons. You want to scream but you can’t. “I’m fine, I’m fine...” 

“I...” Cole babbles and looks around. The table is silent as you gulp for air. 

“Oh, hon,” Aunt Bev gets up and comes around to your chair, “have some water, alright?” 

“I didn’t... I don’t know what I did,” Cole stutters. 

“It’s not you, sweetie,” Bev pets your hair as she offers the glass of water. “She’s okay. She was out in the sun today, she gets a bit faint.” 

You want to cry even more. Not just for the embarrassment. Because you’re grateful. Because she lies so easily for you. She protects you like no one else ever has. 

“Can I go inside?” You whisper. 

“Sure, hon, I’ll put your dessert aside for you,” she smiles.  

[milimeters-morales]

chapter 9 of my transfem miles fic!

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 6 / Chap 7 / Chap 8

Wordcount: 4k+

Warnings: trans kid gets called slurs and beat up (the beating up isn't shown happening). to skip, stop reading once the whole park section ends (the linebreak), and pick it back up again at "Kenneth smiles, showing off their bloodied teeth" because I don't recc skipping the entire section tbh. but you can do that if you want, just go to the next linebreak.

“I’m just saying, I’ve been through worse--” Miles starts, shutting up at the pained look on his parents’ faces. 

“No extreme Spider-Manning,” his dad tells him, crossing his arms. “And take one of my jackets. It’s getting cold out.”

It’s not, Miles thinks as he grabs his dad’s smallest coat from the rack. It was still too big, the sleeves were going past his hands, but he kind of liked that. 

“And take my scarf,” his mom adds, crossing her arms too.

Dang it, they’re mirroring! Now he’s definitely not going to win any argument he makes now.

“It’s not that cold out,” he tries.

“The weather is unpredictable,” his mom replies instantly, like she had that excuse prepared.

Ughhh. You crack a few ribs, break one nose, and nearly (well, literally) pass out from exhaustion one time! Okay, maybe more than once, but that’s besides the point. He’s not made of glass-- he’s still here, isn’t he? Did he die?

No, but he probably would if he said anything other than, “Yes Mother and Father, I’ll run home as soon as the wind gets too strong for my fragile bones!”

“Fix your face,” his dad tells him as he makes his way to the door.

Miles schools his expression, not even realizing he was scowling like someone personally insulted him, and sighs.

“Don’t you sigh at us,” his mom says, “we’re just trying to make sure you’ll be alright.”

“I am, Ma. I’m just going hang with Ganke and Gwen.”

“The second, and I mean the second--“

Miles really considers interrupting her to speed this up. And that’s the difference between him and a dead Miles, because a dead Miles definitely would have already done that. Add another reason to the “Why Miles Would Have Gotten Into Visions Anyway” list, this for sure counts.

“--hurting, you come home, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods and shrugs.

She narrows her eyes, and his dad tilts his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once he’s finally out of that house, and breathing in the fresh air on the street, Miles takes off the scarf, puts it in the jacket pocket, and ties the jacket around his waist. It really isn’t that cold, his parents are just extra worried since he came home with kind of bad injuries yesterday. 

When he woke up to get breakfast (after texting Ganke that yes, he was fine, and no, he wouldn’t be a “rich widow”), his mom and dad were hovering more than usual, and his dad looked anxious to even clap him on his shoulder like he usually did in the mornings. 

It’s not like he’s never shown up injured before, he’s come home with worse! Sure, they don’t usually know, but it’s not like he was going to die. He was just a bit roughed up.

They must’ve seen some disturbing story on the news, or something. 

_____

“How was the fudge?” Gwen asks him as he shows up to the candy store. They had all agreed to meet here, as some sort of “reward” for Miles.

“Oh, I didn’t eat it yet,” he answers, “how’s Brick? That guy you helped me with?”

Ganke snorts at the name as he grabs some sour gummies.

“Right,” Gwen nods, “he’s apparently back to normal? Spider-Doc called me in and let me see him, but he wants you to come in and double check.”

“But I didn’t see him when he was normal.”

“That’s what I said probably happened,” Gwen gestures towards him with more nodding, “but he said Brick would probably want to see a familiar Spidey anyway. So yeah, he looks normal, but he’s exhausted and not really cooperative. That bracelet can only last like, two weeks.”

Miles gums and grabs some plantain chips and a slushie cup. “Alright, why can’t we visit now? It’ll only take a few minutes, right?”

Gwen shrugs. “Wait, can we take you?” she asks Ganke, reaching up to grab a bag of chocolate pretzels for him after seeing him go to stand on his tip-toes.

“Short ass,” Miles laughs, dodging the punch to his shoulder. “But I don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone else bring civilians to what remains.”

“Oh my god, you sound so ominous when you call it that,” Ganke laughs, making his way over to the counter. “And I don’t wanna go anyway.”

Gwen reluctantly grabs her own snacks, complaining about none of them being sweet or salty enough to actually be worth it. They all pay for their candy (with Ganke’s money, he’s sure to remind Gwen and Miles) and leave, walking down the street and chowing down.

“Alright, so Margo and Doc had found the dimension Brick was from, but don't think it’s a good idea to let him go back yet because we don’t know about the other effects-- if there are any-- of the super steroid,” Gwen explains as she chews her strawberry wafers. “Not what its name by the way, don’t call it that. Doc gets annoyed and starts explaining exactly what the drug is.”

“Isn’t that a good thing to know?” Miles asks, looking down each alley they pass. 

“Miles, it’s like fifteen different ingredients with names longer than the pi,” Gwen rolls her eyes, “Anyway, Doc’s waiting ‘till Brick’s coherent enough. Might take most of the day, but just wanted to let you know.”

Miles nods, eyes catching on someone. It was some kid, he thinks, just playing on a phone. Why did he focus on--

“Ohhh!” He whisper-shouts, quickly looking away and back to his friends, “that’s Kenneth!” 

“Who?” Gwen and Ganke ask at the same time.

Shoot. “Nobody, just some kid I helped as the other guy,” Miles explains hurriedly. “They don’t actually know me.”

“Aw, but you two look like you’d be friends,” Ganke replies, still looking at Kenneth. “God knows you need more normal ones. No offense, Gwen.”

“I get it,” she says, also still looking at Kenneth. It’s like these two all of a sudden forgot what manners are!

“Stop staring at them! Come on,” He hisses out, feeling shame claw at his back and shoulders. He steers the two to the other side of the street, not so subtly checking if Kenneth looked up at any point.

“Jeez, that perfume lasts long,” Gwen comments, “you smell like a romance novel cover.”

“I hate that I know exactly what you mean,” he replies.

“Why are you so on edge anyway?” Ganke asks him. “Something happen? …Other than yesterday?”

“My parents… they’re just… protective,” he decides on. “C’mon, let’s just go before it gets too crowded.”

_____

Of course, because Miles can’t have anything, the cat cafe’s grand opening was too crowded and left him and Gwen overstimulated, irritated, and wanting to escape. Gwen and Ganke didn’t even get to choose ridiculous names to call the cats instead of their actual ones, which usually would’ve had Miles thanking every deity he could think of for this miracle, but it was just awful this time.

He let Gwen scurry off to Hobie’s dimension to calm down, and dropped Ganke off at home, apologizing for ruining the day. The boy told him he didn’t ruin anything, and kissed his cheek before heading inside. Miles didn’t really believe that, but it’s fine, he can act like he does. 

After a few stress bites and scratches, a loose brick crumbled into dust, and some breathing exercises, Miles is ready to be Spider-Man for the rest of the day.

At some point, he ends up in the park helping a few parents set up a pretty expensive looking birthday party (which earns him a cupcake, score!) and goes to swing off again, but a little girl calling out to him seconds before zipping closer to cling to his leg stops him.

“Spidey, you smell good!” The little girl missing-- who’s missing one of her front teeth, now isn’t that cute-- smiles up at him. “You smell like my ma!”

Normally, this sentence would be extremely weird, but considering he just saved a woman wearing the strongest perfume in the world yesterday, it’s justified. It’s reached normal strength levels today, from what his parents said, so that’s a small positive. 

Miles laughs, “Aw, thank you! Where is your mama?”

“Norah says she’s busy far away!”

Miles nods, “And who’s Norah? Is that your sister?”

The little girl giggles, “Nooo! That’s my other ma! She’s super tall!”

Miles nods again, “Ohhh, I see! My bad! Let’s go find her, she must be wondering where you are!” Offering his hand to the girl, whose hand is impossibly small in his own, he begins to walk where she came from.

“So what does she look like?” 

“Umm,” the girl says, whipping her head around as she searches around, “she’s got red hair like Ariel. And her favorite color is green!”

Luckily, someone with red hair that vibrant is easy to spot in the park.

Norah’s eyes widen as she turns from the man she’s talking to on a bench and sees her daughter being guided to her by Spider-Man. “Hi honey, are you okay? Why are you with Spider-Man?”

“I’m fine, he smells like Ma! Smell him!” the little girl excitedly informs her mom, running and hugging her legs.

“Oh, no thank you, I believe you,” Norah laughs, brushing her hair out of her face. 

And man, that kid wasn’t lying at all. The woman is tall, so tall that Miles has to actually move his head a considerable amount when he looks up at her.

“Go back to playing with Micah and his friends, honey,” Norah runs a hand through the girl’s short hair before she takes off to a sandbox, “and don’t wander off this time!”

“She probably means the perfume you’re wearing. It smells a lot like what my ex used to wear,” Norah gives him a warm smile after sighing. “I didn’t even know they still sold that scent! She always got it from like, a reseller.”

Miles smiles and shrugs, “I don’t know if they do, but a woman I saved was wearing it. Guess it’s still that strong, huh?”

“Ahh, that makes more sense,” Norah says, the man behind her humming and nodding.

…Why did that make him feel kind of weird? Put on the spot, almost?

“We won’t keep you,” Norah says, going back to sit on the bench.

“Alright! Have a nice day!”

Miles swings off, feeling strange. 

Sure, he hasn’t met any guys that wear perfume, but it’s the same thing as cologne. Something to make you smell good! He knows it’s not that common, but women wear cologne all the time. Right? So, a man wearing perfume wouldn’t be that weird.

“God, why are you so defensive…” he mutters to himself. 

____

Later that night, when he’s expertly convinced his parents he won’t get into any fights (but come on, be serious), he’s trying to calm down after being held at gunpoint by a would-be mugger that looked way too young to fully understand what they were doing.

It turned out fine, but still. Gunpoint. You’d think after nearly 2 years, he could take it like it was nothing.

Anyway, he’s swinging off the stress, when he hears it-- the telltale sounds of a fight.

He rockets down to a nearby rooftop and peeks over the edge, eyes widening when he sees Kenneth-- again! The kid was cornered by four much larger people. At least one of them must’ve been an adult or something! Kenneth was sneering-- that’s blood, that’s blood-- at the group, fists balled at their sides and shaking.

Darting down, Miles lands between Kenneth and the four others, spreading his arms out. “What, you got a problem?” he asks them loudly, stepping forward. Two flinch back at his sudden appearance, the other two looking surprised but not moving. “You deaf or something?” He narrows his lenses in the way he knows people don’t like and revels in those resulting furrowed brows.

“You defending him?” one of the men asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Is this man serious?

“Them,” Kenneth spits out from behind Miles. 

“You beating on a kid? You ain’t got anything better to do with your lives?” Miles can feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins, teeth grinding and chest getting tight. He takes another step forward, sending one of them running off with mutters about “not getting tased”. 

“Pussy!” Kenneth shouts after the runner, and Miles doesn’t feel the need to say anything about that. His focus is on the three excuses of-- 

Calm down. Kenneth’s safety is more important than his anger. 

“Spidey, you know that’s a man, right?” the second man asks him.

“A tranny,” the third man spits out.

The word hits his ears like a pot of boiling water spills onto his feet, like he’s being hit with that truck all over again. There’s mini explosions in his chest, and it feels like his head literally empties, leaving only… scribbles. Incoherent, angry, scared scribbles.

Miles lets the electricity in his veins glow bright enough to cast shadows against the walls. “You’re being assholes. Get lost!”

The third man leaves, grumbling, and dragging the second with him despite the difficulty since the second just assumed they could all win the fight against Miles if they stuck together. 

“Oh, not only are you assholes, you’re stupid too? Pick a struggle!” Miles rolls his eyes at the two retreaters. “What, you really wanna try it? You?” He looks the final man still standing in front of him up and down and tries to put as much disdain, disbelief, and annoyance in his voice until it practically drips with all three. He scoffs to make it hurt a little, in the way everyone else at school does when someone asks for a girl’s number, “Yeah, right.”

The man sneers and quickly stomps out of the alley after the others. “...kind of man wears perfume, prolly one of ‘em…” he mutters as he leaves.

A few moments pass, and once Kenneth breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, Miles finally relaxes, breathing out a sigh of his own.

“I am so sorry about that,” he apologizes, letting the electricity die down and turning to face Kenneth. Now that he’s close up, he can see blood dripping down from their nose and a bruise on their cheek. “Look, I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks,” Kenneth smiles, showing off their bloodied teeth. Yeesh. “I don’t actually think I could’ve won that one.”

As they’re walking down the street, Miles keeps a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, wondering if he should take them to urgent care just in case. 

“I’m still real sorry you had to hear that,” he tells them, “those jerks don’t know a thing. Grown ass men… how old are you?”

“I’m fourteen! My birthday was last month,” Kenneth happily informs him. The baby fat on their cheeks makes Miles’s heart ache, and he struggles to smile. Did he used to look like that? Only fourteen, and having to deal with adults hating them to the point of beating them up for the way they dress and identify. Jesus. Maybe they’re more alike than he thought. 

“I just turned sixteen,” Miles admits.

“Really? Is that why you do that deep voice thing?”

Embarrassment makes him falter in step, nearly face planting on the ground. “Uh, no, I…”

Every possible answer he could give is embarrassing! Why did he even bring up age in the first place?!

Kenneth smiles and seems to consider him. “Y’know… if… I totally get it, if you do the voice for… other reasons. I mean, I know some guys who do that, but you already sound fine.”

“Thank you,” Miles takes the compliment with only the tiniest bit of confusion. Kenneth thought… ohhhh. Ohhhh. 

Should he correct them? 

Yes, duh. 

…

But he doesn’t really want to. Kenneth isn’t entirely sure that he’s transgender, just guessing, right? Is this bad? Is he doing something wrong right now not clearing this up?

He feels like he was just put on the spot in the middle of class or something. He shouldn’t be so anxious, this is ridiculous-- Kenneth’s the one that just got attacked!

But this is obviously also bad... but he's just so hesitant, for some reason.

“I won’t tell anybody, if you are like me,” Kenneth says softly, blood dried on their face but a sparkle in their eye, “don’t worry.”

____

Miles unlocks the door to his family’s apartment, still talking with Gwen. 

“--can’t believe it’s still on me either! Anyway, how about next weekend? The cafe probably won’t calm down for a week, and there’s a new garden here, the kind that offers tours and stuff. I saw some pictures online-- Hi Dad,” Miles says, nodding to his dad as he makes his way to his room.

“Miles? What’s that smell?” his dad asks him from his spot on the couch. He swings an arm over the back of it and fixes Miles with a quizzical look. Without his glasses on, his squinting looks even more suspicious.

“Uh, still that perfume,” Miles answers, wishing he got the power of teleportation instead of his super-anxiety. “I gotta go, let me know what you think,” he rushes out into the watch, quickly taking it off and shoving it into his jacket pocket.

His dad gets up and walks over, sniffing the air. “Oh, you… found another bottle?” he asks hesitantly, crossing his arms and tilting his head, “Jesus, that is strong.”

“Everyone else says it’s not,” Miles reassures him, “apparently they don’t even make this anymore?”

“I see why,” his dad mumbles, “so how… how was it?”

“How was what?”

“Going around, smelling like perfume all day. Nobody gave you any trouble?”

Miles hears that protectiveness in his dad’s question, and thinks about Norah and that man she was talking to, the men that attacked Kenneth, and his mom saying how she could say she was the reason for it yesterday. It all made him feel weird, like he was expecting something that he wasn’t even sure of.

“Nah. I mean, some people didn’t expect it, but nothing mean.”

“Okay, that’s good,” his dad nods, “want some spaghetti? Your mom’ll be home in a few minutes, come help set everything out.”

After dinner, which was only partially ruined for him and his dad because of his mom’s ER horror stories that she’s brought home today, Miles gets ready for bed. Well, a few hours of relaxing and maybe another patrol then actual bed. 

As he’s walking back to his room after his shower, legs freshly shaved and piercings cleaned, his dad stops him to ask him something, but stops mid-question with wide eyes. Miles smiles, unsure of what’s wrong, and tilts his head. Stuff about hair and a mustache are all he can make out of his dad’s incomprehensible (excited?) sputtering.

“How didn’t I see this earlier! I was right across from you!” His dad’s loud and all up in his face as he turns it every which way in search of more hairs.

“Maybe you just need new glasses,” Miles shrugs, trying to pull his face free as gently as possible.

“Rio! Get in here!” 

Miles resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

“What? What, is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong--”

“Miles is growing a beard!”

“Whaaat?” His mom’s sleepy eyes widen, a tired but proud smile growing on her face as she lightly slaps his dad’s hands away to replace them with her own. “Ahh, I see them! You’re growing up too fast!” She playfully slaps at his arm, “Stop it.”

“I’ll slow down,” Miles sighs exaggeratedly, head hanging like he’s just so inconvenienced.

“How didn’t I notice this? Can’t believe you’re growing into a man,” his dad places the heels of his palms on his forehead, eyes wide. “Next thing I know he’s off to college, getting married--” he starts rambling as he paces in the living area.

“Dad, really?” Miles puts his hands on his hips. “It’s just a little hair. It’s not even on my chin.”

“--us in a nursing home-- Just a little hair?! This is--”

“You’re really calm,” his mom whispers to him as they watch his dad continue to gesture wildly and wear down the floorboards. “You’re not even a little excited?”

“I freaked out about it earlier,” he whispers back with a small smile.

“You and your father, I swear,” she huffs with a shake of her head.

____

As he’s suiting up again after he’s sure his parents are asleep, his watch buzzes. Putting his glove in his mouth to free both hands, he grabs it to see a message from Margo.

|Margo Kess 22191-B: hey Gwen invited me to your garden thing next weekend but said she forgot to check with you 2 see if it was okay?

|Miles Morales 1610-B: It’s fine! We’ll have to get there pretty early like 9am maybe

|Miles Morales 1610-B: what time would that be for you

|Margo Kess 22191-B: uhh let me check

|Margo Kess 22191-B: that’s like 1pm for me :v dw

|Miles Morales 1610-B: alright that’s good! 

|Margo Kess 22191-B: : thanks! Gwen would have told you herself but she broke her phone

|Miles Morales 1610-B: fight gone wrong?

|Margo Kess 22191-B: she said everything was 2 loud and fast so she just crushed it in her hands this morning :/

|Miles Morales 1610-B: Oh it must’ve been from our trip to this cat cafe

|Miles Morales 1610-B: turned out to be a bad idea for us!

|Margo Kess 22191-B: i hope the garden doesn’t turn out 2 be like that </3 

|Miles Morales 1610-B: sameee

Once he’s fully dressed, he grabs a random jacket. It was a little too big, must’ve been one of the newer ones his mom bought him after his growth spurt. 

It’s a nice night , he thinks as he perches on the roof of a library. 

A cloudless starry sky, a nice breeze, and-- hold on, is that his physics teacher?

Mrs. Chesterfield and some man are walking together out of the J-Mart across the road. Oh man, should he say hi? No, right? No. That would be kind of weird, and she’s been a little annoying lately anyway. He doesn’t actually have anything to say to her anyway that wouldn’t expose who he is.

The man she’s walking with spots him and gives a small wave. Mrs. Chesterfield notices and gives a small wave as well, but with a pleasant smile.

Miles waves back, watching as they leave in their car. 

So weird. He knows, realistically, his teachers have lives outside of school, but to see them with other people, and doing what, going on a snack run? To see them do something so normal is just plain strange. He wonders how they clean their houses…

A quiet sound of paper ripping pulls him out of thoughts, and a faint whisper makes him look behind him. Hobie’s in the courtyard below, swiftly closing the portal behind him and jumping up to the roof to sit next to Miles.

“Relax,” Hobie tells him, “just checking on you.”

“Why?” Miles scoots over to put some comfortable space between them, “Did something happen?”

Hobie is quiet for a moment, mismatched eyes boring into Miles’s own and making him look to the side, before turning and facing ahead.

Alright, so he’s not going to get an answer?

“You can tell me, it’s fine,” he insists, but when Hobie doesn’t want to do something, he just won’t. Miles learned that the sorta-hard way when he kept expecting Hobie to continue conversations instead of letting an awkward silence take over. At first, it seemed like Hobie was just toying with him, but Gwen explained that Hobie was “just like that.”

The two sit in silence, Miles looking for a conversation starter. Something (most likely) happened, and things tend to be… pretty bad in Hobie’s dimension. 

As his eyes flit about, they land on the skirt Hobie’s wearing. It’s one of the old lady skirts Miles bought for him, but it’s been torn haphazardly at the end and stained with something, probably bleach? 

“I like what you did with the skirt,” he says, smiling. “Did you do the same with the other ones?”

Hobie shakes his head. “Gave ‘em away.”

“Oh, that’s nice! I was actually at a shelter a few days ago, I think I’m gonna go again to give some people my old clothes,” Miles says. Okay, so he wasn’t thinking that until now, but it still sounds like a good idea. Maybe he’ll see that manager lady again.

His mind drifts to the old man that kept arguing. Ugh. 

“S’good,” Hobie mumbles. “You and the others, you know you can come to me, yeah?”

Shit, was he not visiting Hobie’s dimension enough? Yeah, he doesn’t visit that much, but he thought Hobie preferred it that way!

“Yeah, of course! I’m sure the others know that too,” he nods, “well, you might have to remind Margo. She’s never even visited me before, and she’s only coming next weekend because Gwen asked her to.”

Hobie taps on the roof, “I meant, if your parents start that bullshit. But that too, that too.”

Miles’s anxiety turns to confusion. “Why would my parents get that mad? I mean, Spider-Man was an unpleasant surprise, sure, but--”

Hobie gives him a sad(?) look, which makes him stop and think. Does he do anything that--

Oh, DUH!

“I mean, I don’t think Mom and Dad would get mad at me dating Ganke, of all things to get mad at me about,” Miles rushes out, playing with the sleeves of his jacket. The anxiety comes back, settling in his legs and shoulders.

“I don’t wanna say don’t trust them,” Hobie says slowly, as if explaining bad news to a toddler, “but I want you to have a backup. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” Miles repeats, considering the possibility. “I just… I mean, I don’t think they’re like that. They’ve never said anything about… hating gay people or anything…” But what if…

“I don’t want you to freak out,” Hobie tells him quickly, squinting. “It’s just always a possibility, and I don’t want you to be lost if worse comes to worst. It’s smart.”

Miles brings his knees to his chin. His parents are good people, they wouldn’t hate him for something like this. They love him! But… he knows a lot of people say that, and don’t know for sure, and get a nasty surprise. He’s heard stories online and on the news that turn out even worse. 

“I’m not freaking out,” he says aloud, more for himself than Hobie. “I just never considered it before, y’know?” 

“Yeah. I know,” Hobie sighs. “I know.”

“Shit, man…” Miles says after a few moments of silence. “So… what should I do? I can’t just run away from here and leave my dimension without a Spider-Man.”

Hobie taps again. “That’s what you have us for.”

He briefly meets Miles’s eyes, and though he doesn’t smile, the warmth is there. It’s almost too much, but thankfully Hobie looks away first. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“...Thanks,” Miles smiles. “Do you want to join me tonight? Or do you wanna go give the others the same talk?”

Hobie stands up, stretching his arms high above him. “I can tell ‘em after. Lemme get changed.”

Score!

A/N: past me was again not pleased with this chapter but it literally looks fine? it's short and sweet! well not sweet 100% but i feel like it's nicely packaged with a simple bow. kenneth nation sorry for hurting our cousin

[phoenixyfriend]

soulmate au: 2 or 27 for rexwalker? (or rexanidala)

soulmate au prompts

2. the one where you have your soulmate’s name written on your body.

27. the one where you can transfer any injuries/pain your soulmate has onto yourself.

Once again featuring Marginally Less Terrible Jango, Hopeless Romantic Anakin, and Significantly More Awkward Rex.

Word Count: 5.9k

-----

Anakin doesn’t have a soulmate until he’s ten years old.

He’s already been at the Temple for half a year by then, and heard enough about how not having a soul mark is a good thing, for a Jedi. It means fewer temptations away from the duties they’ve all agreed to take on. There are people with names on their bodies, including Obi-Wan, who has two, but everyone agrees that while friendship with one’s soulmate is fine, especially if that soulmate is a fellow Jedi, it cannot be allowed to become too deep.

“I don’t understand,” Anakin admits to Obi-Wan, one night when he finds Obi-Wan looking at the name that wraps around his upper thigh, the one in the unfamiliar alphabet and cultured, perfect strokes. It’s a few months after he arrives, long enough to think they won’t kick him out just for asking questions, but not quite long enough to know what’s normal yet. His own soul mark is several months away, not that he knows it. “Soulmates were one of the few things a mas--an owner couldn’t take away from a slave. They could get rid of the mark, but we still knew. They were important, something the universe gave us that we could keep, even if it was only in our memories. Why do Jedi try to make it not count?”

Obi-Wan gets a look on his face, the one he gets whenever Anakin has a question that’s more complicated and philosophical than what Obi-Wan was ready for, the questions about why that he has to think about because it’s all normal for Obi-Wan, who grew up here, in ways that it isn’t (and will never be) for Anakin with his Tatoo heart and slaveborn mind.

“It’s not about the depth of the relationship in and of itself,” Obi-Wan finally says. “It’s about how you go about it, how you let it affect you, and if you let it get in the way of your duties as a Jedi, or put yourself at risk of a fall. It’s... it’s not banned, exactly, to love someone the way one would expect to love a soulmate, but it’s discouraged for our own safety and health. Losing someone you love hurts everyone, but for a Force-user to lose someone they consider so dear to their heart, there’s always a risk of losing one’s stability and going Dark.”

Anakin doesn’t entirely understand, but he pretends he does.

Obi-Wan scratches at the stubble he’s trying to turn into a beard, and says, “Okay, let me finish getting dressed, and then I’m going to tell you a few stories. You said you like learning through stories, right?”

Anakin nods.

“Okay, so... Bandomeer, I think. Melida/Daan and Mandalore, definitely. And we can round it out with what happened a few days ago,” Obi-Wan mutters. “I--most of those are planets.”

“I’ve heard of Mandalore,” Anakin volunteers.

“Yes, most have,” Obi-Wan indulges him, but he looks a little nervous. “Anakin, I... these stories all have to do with some very painful times in my life, times when I almost left, or did leave, the Jedi Order. I think--”

“You left the Jedi?”

“For a year, when I was a little older than you, but I came back,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m... can you put on some tea? It’ll make this conversation easier.”

“Is it about your soulmates?” Anakin asks, clinging to the doorframe just before he exits.

“...one of them,” Obi-Wan says, passing a hand over the mark on his thigh. “It’s... she’s why Mandalore is on this list, but that story won’t make as much sense unless I tell you about Bandomeer and Melida/Daan first.”

“Because you left?”

“Because I already knew what leaving could cost me,” Obi-Wan corrects, gentle but oddly stern. “Go put on the tea, Anakin. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

-----

Three months after Anakin hears about the times Obi-Wan was forced to leave, did leave, almost left, and threatened to leave (for Anakin’s sake!), the name of his soulmate comes in.

“That’s not a name,” Anakin says.

“Anakin--”

“That’s not a name,” Anakin says, more upset than he’d like to admit. The soul mark sits neatly on one side of his lower abdomen, warm and precisely lettered and absolutely terrifying.

CT-7567, in a dark, desaturated blue.

“I don’t think your soulmate is a droid,” Obi-Wan tries to joke. It falls flat.

“They’re a born slave,” Anakin says, and watches Obi-Wan stiffen. “Droids don’t get soulmates. Slaves do, but sometimes ma--owners don’t let slaves have names. They just give ‘em a number and that’s it. Supposed to make us more pliant and keeps us from having thoughts of individuality.”

“Them, Anakin, not us. You’re free.”

Anakin looks up at him, lip wobbling, and he knows a Jedi shouldn’t cry, not when he’s already ten, but he wants to any way. “My soulmate isn’t.”

“O-oh, okay, we’re crying now,” Obi-Wan mutters, clearly overwhelmed, and pulls Anakin to his chest. “It’ll be alright, dear one. Your mark means you will meet one day, and when you do, you can free them. Alright?”

“Okay.”

-----

“Skywalker? Sounds like a slave name.”

It’s a refrain that CT-7567 hears almost every time one of the adults sees his mark. They mention Tatooine sometimes. One of the bounty hunters that covers their weapons training gets angry if people point out the slave thing, and CT-7567 isn’t the only person to get a slave for a soulmate. She doesn’t explain it often, but there’s an incident when Rex is three that gives him a little more information.

“That one’ll be angry,“ the bounty hunter mutters, her lip curling when she hears the cadets gossiping about their marks again, sees CT-7567 pulling up his shirt to show off his own. She’s always like that, about the clones who have slave soulmates. CC-1010, who knows everything about everyone, says that she used to be a slave before she killed her way out. She’s definitely scary enough. “Name like that... Tatooine, human, might be a slave or might be freeborn from a line of slaves. Either way, that one’s going to be angry about it.”

“How do you mean, sir?”

Her eyes flick to his, and then back to the slugthrower she’s cleaning. “Tatooine slave culture knows things. Your mark on this “Anakin” is going to be your number until you get a name, and they’re not going to make the mistake of thinking their soulmate is a droid. They’ll know you were born to a purpose.”

It takes another year for CT-7567 to learn that she means ‘you were born a slave.’

(It takes two more for him to pick a name.)

-----

Anakin is not the only one in the Temple to have this kind of soul mark popping up. He is not even the first. The Council is investigating it, apparently, but they don’t have much to go off of. It didn’t start until a year or two before Anakin came to Coruscant, but enough Jedi are affected by the CC and CT soul marks for it to be concerning. Anakin gets called in to provide some information on what he knows about slave-designations in these circumstances, which isn’t much, and is barely more than what they already know, but they assure him it’s helpful. Something about corroborating the information a raised slave is taught culturally with the information a Shadow can collect from a community that doesn’t trust them. Obi-Wan explains that it’s about how Anakin knows information that was collected and taught, instead of information that has to be gathered, bit by bit, and analyzed.

It’s a long way of saying that Anakin knows things that other people don’t, because he wasn’t raised in the safety of the Temple.

Anakin doesn’t know many of the others, but he does know one even before his soul mark comes in, because their Masters are friends. They talk about it, and three years after they first connect over this, something happens.

“It changed! Anakin, Ani, it changed!”

Anakin drops the datapad he’s been doing history homework on, and looks up as Aayla, already in the suite, grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little.

“Aayla?” Obi-Wan calls, coming out of the kitchen with a rag in one hand and a wet plate in the other. “What in the--what are you shouting about?”

Knight Vos follows Aayla in--it’s a bit early to call him a Master, given that Aayla’s still not knighted, but it’s getting close--and leans against the door, arms crossed. “Kid was right. The mark changes when the soulmate picks a name.”

Aayla pulls down the shoulder of one sleeve, and Anakin sees that the designation number has changed. It’s not a regimented CC-5052 anymore, but a short, sweet Bly, with a flourish at the end that probably means this person is always going to be excited to sign their name.

“We already knew that,” Obi-Wan says. “When people transition, their name changes on their soulmate as well. This is the same thing.”

“We didn’t know that it applied to born slaves the same way,” Knight Vos says. “All we had was anecdotal evidence from the kid. Trustworthy, yes, but no data to back it up. And now we know.”

“I wonder how it’s meant to be pronounced,” Aayla says, and obligingly lets Anakin poke at the name that swirls on her shoulder in a vivid yellow against the blue. It’s pretty, he thinks. The handwriting and the color and what it means that the soulmates they’ve all gotten are finding ways to be people.

“How long until mine changes?” Anakin asks, even though he knows that nobody here has that answer. “Do you think all of them are going to find names? Or...”

“If they don’t by the time we find them,” Aayla assures him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “they will once they’re free.”

(In one life, the Jedi would have held their tongues and ducked their heads, hidden in denial and ‘we are their only option’ and ‘the Senate will use them regardless; we are a kinder fate than men like Tarkin’ and would never use the words ‘slave army’ to describe their men.)

(In this life, they are primed, from the moment a little freed boy explains exactly what a soul mark like this means to people like his, to see their army and say ‘we will free you.’)

-----

Rex

Anakin has his eyes fixed on the name from the moment his mark burns and twists and changes. He’s sixteen by then, and on a mission with Obi-Wan that prevents him from running to break into Knight Aayla’s room and show off to her the way she had to him. He’s not even on planet, but at least it’s not the middle of a fight. That could have been bad.

“Hey, Obi-Wan?”

“Hm?”

“I got a name.”

“For the assassin?” Obi-Wan asks, raising his head hopefully. “Did you get through to the guild?”

“...no, I meant, uh, my soulmate.” Anakin lifts his shirt, waits on that unfortunate dash of disappointment, and then Obi-Wan’s face lights up and the man practically scrambles over to get a better look. Anakin tries not to let himself read too much into it. It’s... nice, he thinks. That Obi-Wan is excited for him.

“I feel like half these individuals are picking names of exactly three letters,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling as he almost touches the mark. He doesn’t, in the end, but Anakin wants to laugh at it anyway. “Rex, then. I look forward to meeting your young man.”

Anakin feels his face flare. “We don’t know that it’s a boy. I mean, there might be places where that’s a girl’s name. Or a species that doesn’t have our genders. Or--”

“I have a feeling,” Obi-Wan says, and laughs when Anakin pouts at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t bet my saber on it, but a few credits, at least. Nothing solid, but I was prone to visions as a youngling. Qui-Gon was never very good at dealing with the peculiarities of such a connection to the Unifying Force. He tried, admittedly, but he was very much a man of the present.”

Anakin spends the rest of the mission silently cheering on his soulmate for picking a name.

For taking that step to saying “I’m a person.”

-----

Someone tries to assassinate Senator Amidala. Anakin and Obi-Wan are assigned to protect her. There’s an incident with a robot, and Obi-Wan is... pulled aside.

(Anakin finds himself thinking, more than once, that he could have fallen in love with this woman if he wasn’t so attached to the idea inked into his skin.)

(Senator Amidala doesn’t have a soulmate. She’s free to choose, she claims. He doesn’t envy her, but he does respect this.)

(Anakin likes the security of the universe telling him that there’s someone he’s meant for.)

Obi-Wan disappears to investigate something, and returns just before Anakin and Padme are set to leave. He looks... grim.

“The assassination is more complicated than we thought,” Obi-Wan says. “As in, the main assassin was expecting this to fail, so we’d come find him after he killed the subcontractor.”

“So...”

“He wants to talk to us,” Obi-Wan says. “But, specifically, to the two of you.”

-----

“So, you’re Anakin Skywalker.”

Jango Fett is a shorter man than Anakin, shorter even than Obi-Wan, but he’s not small. The armor bulks him out further. There’s faint scars on his face, here and there, and he seems more amused than anything when Anakin slips in front of Padme to actually be the bodyguard he’s supposed to play.

“What’s it to you?” Anakin challenges, and pretends he doesn’t see the way Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Fett smirks. “One of my boys has your name on him.”

Anakin stops breathing for a moment.

“One of your boys?” Padme prompts, and Anakin tries to remember his job.

Fett’s smirk falls away and he palms his face. “Three million of them, and counting. I’ve had people cross-referencing soul marks as they pop up, in case anyone’s connected to someone... important. Special attention on the confirmed Jedi.”

“Three mill--you’re behind the ident number marks,” Anakin realizes. “The slave-born.”

Obi-Wan’s face looks carved from stone, and Anakin realizes that the mood he’s been in since he called Anakin and Padme was because he’d figured it out before he called.

“Yeah, Umiett said you’d be the one to make that connection,” Fett mutters. He shakes his head. “Listen, I’ve got three million clones that are more sentient than anyone told me they’d be, and I’ve spent the last few years trying to decide how to get myself out of this contract without abandoning them in the process. Tyranus gave me the job to assassinate Amidala, but I’d already had her shortlisted as one of the Republic members most like to help me get these boys citizenship and legal rights. Once I heard Skywalker and Kenobi were involved, turning this into a discreet way to get your attention seemed like the obvious solution.”

“You tried to kill me... to get my attention... so I’d help you.”

“I didn’t try to kill you. I subcontracted to a former acquaintance that I knew wasn’t good enough to get past two Jedi.”

“Right,” Padme says, seeming unimpressed. Anakin agrees. “Okay, three million sentients, all your children--”

“Clones.”

“--yes, something that’s very illegal in the Republic at that scale,” she says. “Unless--”

“Kamino’s in the Rishi maze. Dwarf galaxy, not actually part of the Republic. Isolated.”

“Okay, that’s... going to make this more difficult,” Padme says. “Where does your citizenship lie? Are you still Mandalorian? I’m not as familiar with your role in recent politics as I could be. I know there’s something about all violent dissenters being sent to Concordia, but you--”

“If I thought that hut’uunla Duchess would listen to me, I’d have already reached out,” Fett dismisses. “That’s part of why I focused on Kenobi and Skywalker when doing the research. Skywalker’s got the background to argue slavery, and Kenobi’s got connections in Mandalorian politics.”

“And I’m to be your voice in the Senate.”

“Not mine. The clones’.”

Anakin looks to Obi-Wan for guidance, because this man was involved with the attempted assassination, but...

“Who is Tyranus?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Oh, you’re going to enjoy this. The man calling himself Darth Tyranus is Count Dooku of Serreno.”

Anakin hasn’t heard Obi-Wan swear that colorfully since the last time he got stabbed.

-----

Things... progress. Quietly. Fett mentions there being a Sith in the Senate, something he picked up from a particularly ugly visit from the Count to Kamino, the kind of visit that involved veiled conversations intended as mocking, bragging monologues.

“He really is a villain,” Obi-Wan mutters, as if Anakin hasn’t seen him monologue to captured criminals on occasion, or get so caught up in The Banter that he lets something slip that he shouldn’t have.

Anakin and Padme go to Naboo to ‘keep her safe,’ and Obi-Wan hares off on a falsified investigation, keeping the Council updated the entire time. Anakin doesn’t like splitting up, not when so much is happening, but they have no idea who the Sith in the senate might be, if they even exist. Anakin doesn’t even have time to say goodbye to the Chancellor.

All this contributes, for Anakin is already stressed, and excited, anticipatory and afraid, and then the nightmares come. Padme’s more aware of his fears than she might have been, as much as they talk about slaves and freedom and how she makes things happen with words and legislation. Anakin’s a little in love with the idea of this woman, though he won’t act on anything until he meets his soulmate and figures out what they’re meant to be for each other, but... friends, at least. Padme is going to be a friend, possibly for life, and Anakin’s going to love her no matter what.

She coaxes out the truth, and then tells him, ‘well, your mother would know more about this than you, since you left at nine; it would be entirely reasonable to ask her for advice,’ and then smiles like they’re sharing a secret crush instead of plotting the violation of his orders.

They save Shmi.

(Barely.)

Padme doesn’t get the advice she was using an excuse from Shmi, but from a long, tired conversation with Beru Whitesun. As it turns out, when a family’s been freeing slaves for generations, they know what they’re talking about. Even Anakin remembers the Whitesun reputation. Padme’s notes are copious.

Anakin cares for his mother, and talks to his stepbrother, and gets an idea of who these people in his life are. He can’t imagine they’ll make contact often, but he’s glad to meet them. Cliegg--his stepfather, and isn’t that a thought--isn’t a particularly soft man, or a smooth one, but his gruffness has a different energy on Tatooine than it would on Coruscant. Anakin approves.

Obi-Wan calls. Padme explains. Anakin is shamed by his Master and then has to defend that particular title when Owen and Beru stare at him and the comm in matching horror.

“Master-Apprentice,” Anakin says, just a little panicked. “Not Master-Slave. He’s my teacher, practically family, not... you don’t need to worry. I promise.”

“I’ve seen them interact,” Padme says, and then shoots a small, smug smile at Beru. “Obi-Wan’s somewhere between father and brother to Anakin. It’s very sweet, when they’re together, and very entertaining.”

Beru, who’s had three days to get used to Padme, smiles and nods. “Alright then. I’ll take your words for it.”

Obi-Wan sputters a bit at the claim, in the background, and Anakin is... just a little upset by that.

“I think your mother would want to speak with him,” Cliegg claims, and Anakin hesitates, because this is a mission call, for all that gossip is happening, and he really shouldn’t break more rules after the big one he’s clearly, blatantly completely ignored to come to Tatooine in the first place. Cliegg holds out a hand, eyes on Obi-Wan. “As would I.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan says. “I suppose I do have a moment.”

-----

Anakin and Padme arrive on Kamino.

“Your mother,” Obi-Wan says, in lieu of a greeting, “is oddly terrifying, did you know?”

“She’s... still recovering,” Anakin says, brow furrowing. “She can’t leave the bed for anything other than the ‘fresher for weeks, probably. And she’s nice, how is any of that terrifying?”

“It’s her energy,” Obi-Wan notes. “Quietly intimidating, I’d say. Very odd, really.”

“What did you even talk about?” Anakin asks, and then blushes as Padme giggles at him, like she knows things that he doesn’t. She probably does. She’s older than him. Still.

“Ah, that,” Obi-Wan says, looking away for a moment and--blushing? Obi-Wan’s blushing? “She rather aggressively informed me of what is considered normal on Tatooine for a relationship that is, as Padme put it, ill-defined but close and familial.”

“Master, you--what?”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and steps forward, pulling Anakin into a hug. Oh. “I’ve been informed that the manner in which I show affection to you is rather understated and ambiguous, by Tatoo standards, and that leaving things unsaid isn’t enough.”

“...Obi-Wan?”

“I consider you my brother,” Obi-Wan says, into this hug that is stiff and uncomfortable, but sincere and full of effort. “And I do love you very much, dear one, even if I’m rather unpracticed in showing it in ways that would... translate, shall we say.”

“Oh,” Anakin says, because he can’t think of anything else. He hugs back.

There’s a moment there, where Obi-Wan relaxes and Anakin shifts, and everything feels just a tiny bit more right, and then someone coughs.

“If you two are done?” Fett drawls, and Anakin mourns as Obi-Wan huffs and pulls away, hands back to being tucked into his sleeves in front of him.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan says back, with the strained smirk of someone who’s been dealing with the same frustrating sentient for a solid week without the option of just bashing their face in.

Fett rolls his eyes, and gestures for them to follow him. “I’ve got a bunch of the Alphas and CCs waiting on you, along with anyone we know for sure has a Jedi soulmate. Kenobi’s already spoken with them all, got confirmation that we probably haven’t missed any connections.”

“I know the list of everyone who reported a CC or CT soul mark to the Council,” Obi-Wan huffs. “I have it memorized.”

“Because of Anakin?” Padme asks.

“His mark came in when he was ten,” Obi-Wan says. “I was his legal guardian until very recently. Given the circumstances, it was reasonable that most of the information on the ident-code marking situation be shared with me in the same way that his school reports and medical records were. He was a minor until a year ago, Senator, and as you so rightly pointed out, my role in his life is certainly that of the family member who raised him for the past decade.

“Master,” Anakin hisses, well aware of his blush. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Obi-Wan looks at him, amused. “I’m told that’s rather the point, dear one.”

Padme looks away, clearly fighting back a grin, and Fett’s expression is mocking, at best.

They enter the section of the facility where other people are a moment later, and Anakin is... not quite as ready for the sea of identical faces as he thought he’d be. One small boy in different tunics from the rest runs up to Fett with a call of ‘Buir!’ and falls into step with them, grabbing Fett’s hand and peering curiously at the rest of them.

“This is Boba,” Fett tells them. “He’s the only unaltered one.”

“The one you claimed at birth,” Padme clarifies.

“Decanting!” Boba pipes up, and then smiles winningly at Padme. “I wasn’t born. I was decanted. He claimed me at decanting.”

Fett looks like he wants to run a hand down his face. “Yes, Boba’s the clone that was provided to me as part of the payment I demanded when I first signed on to the project. He’s the only one I technically have legal claim to.”

“All the others are Kaminoan property until claimed by the Senate or Jedi,” Obi-Wan adds, and Fett nods in his direction. “Preferably the Jedi, of course.”

“The Nulls are with Kal Skirata,” Boba pipes up. “He adopted all of them and Kaminiise didn’t care that much because they thought the Nulls were all failed experiments anyway.”

Fett grimaces at the look that gets him from Padme. “They’re not mine. None of them would have wanted to be, anyway, but it stands that I haven’t spoken with them in years.”

“They’re precedent,” Padme corrects. “One I should have been made of aware of if you want this to work. Can you put me in contact with this Skirata individual? What’s his, and their, citizenship status?”

Anakin steps back to Obi-Wan as Padme drills Fett for information, and keeps his eyes wandering for threats--unlikely, if Fett is genuine, and Obi-Wan says he is--and trying to figure out the best way to keep track of which clone is which. They do feel different in the Force, but Anakin’s not as used to using that sense for identification as most Jedi. He sees a few scars and tattoos, but he thinks he’s going to have to--

Oh.

“Anakin? Why did you stop?”

Anakin ignores his master, because one of the clones, one he can’t even see, is glowing so strong and right and calling to him...

“Anakin, please answer me.”

“I can feel him,” Anakin breathes out. “My soulmate. I think I can feel him, in the Force.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, relaxing. “Yes, that tends to happen, when we look. Fett assured us that he’d be at the meeting, dear. Just a few more hallways to go.”

Those hallways pass in a blur, because he’s there his soulmate is there and--

A room, full of clones that look older than Anakin, for all that they can’t be, and more clones that don’t.

There’s a clone in full kit, helmet included, but Anakin knows, just knows, that this one is his.

“Troopers!” Fett barks. “Kenobi’s brought some friends in. Senator Amidala’s going to be working on the citizenship bill with us. The other Jedi is Anakin Skywalker. You can guess why he’s--”

The fully-armored soldier takes a half-step forward.

Fett sighs. “By the ka’ra, Rex, you’re going to embarrass yourself and me. Take your bucket off, kid, let him see you.”

“Some tact, Fett,” Obi-Wan snaps, and for all that it’s quiet and intended to be subtle, the clones absolutely hear him.

They also seem amused. Apparently Obi-Wan’s been hanging about for long enough that he and Fett have a dynamic, one the clones have gotten used to and find hilarious.

Anakin only sort of notices this, because the clone in armor, still unpainted, pulls off his helmet and for all that it’s the exact same face as Anakin’s seen a thousand times over in the last fifteen minutes, there’s something uniquely beautiful that has nothing to do with the blonde hair or the nervous smile.

“You’re Rex?” Anakin asks, even though he’s sure, he’s absolutely convinced, that this young man is his soulmate.

“Yes,” the young clone says. He looks about Anakin’s age, and Fett’s told them time and again that the clones are basically the age they look, for the most part. Anakin’s going to take it slow anyway.

“Obi-Wan already said it, but, um, I’m Anakin,” he says, and tries to find something to do with his hands that isn’t just taking his soulmate and hugging him ‘til all the suns set. He looks down, and settles for mimicking Obi-Wan and just tucking them into his sleeves. He looks up at Rex, and tries to smile, but he’s so nervous about all of this that it probably doesn’t look like much. He thinks he hears someone snickering.

“Oh good,” someone mumbles. “They’re both hopeless.”

Anakin snaps his head around and glowers at the little group the comment came from, but he has no idea which one said it. All four look amused, and have varying degrees of shit-eating grin in place.

“If you didn’t outrank him, Rex would totally be shooting you right now,” little Boba says. “I think he’d deserve to do that.”

Anakin doesn’t have to strain at all to hear Fett’s groan.

“Alright,” one of the older clones says, and everyone stands a little straighter. An authority among the clones? Official, or more of an informal primus inter pares situation? “Rex’ika and his Jedi can go get to know one another, and none of us are going to make fun of them for it, because I know damn well how many of you have been mooning over the idea of your soulmates despite knowing literally nothing about them.”

“So’ve you, Alpha!”

“You want a boot up your ass, Wolffe? Because if you keep talking, that’s what you’re getting.”

“Boys,” Fett says, and they settle down. “Now, the Senator has some questions for you, and you’re going to comply when she asks, because it’s going to keep your little brothers alive. You understand?”

One clone raises a hand, and Fett sighs.

“Yes, and little sisters, Valierra,” he adds. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “kriffing Basic.”

(Anakin later learns that Mando’a is not a gendered language, and Fett’s frustration is entirely about the fact that ‘brothers’ isn’t gender neutral. Anakin tries to ask why he doesn’t just say ‘sibling’ or use the Mando’a word, and there’s apparently a whole thing with some instructors wanting to encourage the clones to learn to be Mandalorian, and others wanting to cut them off from anything to do with the planet.)

(Anakin... tries to understand. He’s still confused about why ‘siblings’ isn’t on the table.)

“Go on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. “We can catch you up later.”

“I got enough from Beru,” Padme assures him. “You can pop in to help us fine-tune later.”

Anakin nods, just a short jerk of his head, and then looks to Rex. The man is glaring at a little at a little group of other clones, but when Anakin reaches out and takes his hand--takes his hand--Rex turns and stares at him with wide eyes and a flush that Anakin’s sure he’s mirroring.

“We should talk,“ he blurts out, and he can feel Obi-Wan’s despair at how completely inept Anakin is at this whole ‘personal interactions’ thing, but that’s fine, because Obi-Wan’s a bit of a slut, and Anakin doesn’t flirt with everyone he meets, and he’s been waiting for his soulmate like a sensible person.

(“Or a romantic,” Vos had pointed out, once. “Most people date at least a little if they don’t meet their soulmate by, like, fifteen. I mean, culturally I understand why you want to wait until you meet your soulmate, but it’s not really a matter of sensibility, just personal preference. Obi-Wan’s not less sensible for sleeping around.”)

(Anakin does not like this argument, and so he ignores it.)

(Well, no, he agrees that people should be allowed to flirt if they want, but he doesn’t like the implication he’s gotten from a few other padawans about how he’s ‘awkward’ for not knowing how to talk to people that he wants to impress somehow.)

(So, he’s going to claim it’s sensibility.)

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Kriff off, Ponds!” Rex barks out, immediately pinging on the exact clone that said the words, and Anakin bites a lip to keep from laughing at them both.

“Out,” Fett orders. “We’ve got shit to do, stop being a distraction.”

“Being a distraction, my dear, is a skill that Anakin’s put far too much effort into developing just to drop it on your command,” Obi-Wan says, light and airy and not at all like he just dragged Anakin and Fett for no Force-damned reason.

“Come on,” Rex mutters, tugging Anakin to the door with a blush that only grows as the other clones catcall them on the way out of the room. Anakin hears at least one particularly dirty comment get cut off by a smacking noise and a reprimand from a clone he thinks is probably Alpha.

The second they’re out of sight, Rex slows down, and glances back at Anakin.

Anakin tries to smile in encouragement. He’s not sure it works, really, but Rex smiles back, so it can’t be that bad.

“Here, Alpha told me to use the mini conference room,” Rex tells him, when the get to a nondescript door with a number on it. “It’s not completely secure, but we can lock the door so it’s mostly private.”

“Can I kiss you?” Anakin asks, and then has to fight to not clap a hand over his mouth.

He was going to go slow. He was a moron who’d promised himself to go slow. Rex is mostly an adult but there are ways in which he isn’t, and Anakin might not be fully an adult either, but that’s not really an excuse, and--

“Yes, please,” Rex says, and oh Anakin really likes the shy grin on him. It’s pretty.

(This man, he thinks, could easily bench press Anakin a few times over, but he’s blushing like a storybook maiden, and he’s doing it for Anakin.)

Anakin moves slowly, because this isn’t something he has much practice with either, but he takes Rex’s face in his hands and leans in, pressing their lips together with only the slightest tilt of his head, just barely less than chaste, and a firework goes off inside his ribcage.

His soulmate! He’s kissing his soulmate!

There’s a ‘stop projecting’ nudge from Obi-Wan in the Force. Anakin tosses up a shield and focuses back on the kissing. He pulls away, and the goes to just... peck a bit. Just small, chaste, tiny kisses because he doesn’t want to stop. Because for all that they just met a few minutes ago, this feels right.

Warm hands, larger than his own and steady in a way he thinks he really likes, settle on his hips.

“We--mm--really should talk,” Rex manages, and Anakin... well, Anakin stops kissing him.

Rex apparently likes it as much as Anakin does, because he lifts up onto his toes to kiss Anakin again before fully breaking off. He grins, clearly sheepish, and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Anakin says, and then Rex pulls him down to press their foreheads together, radiating warmth and hope and affection that Anakin hasn’t earned yet, but is definitely going to.

“This is a Keldabe kiss,” Rex says, and his nose brushes against Anakin’s as he shifts. His hands are still on Anakin’s waist, and Anakin decides to wrap his arms around Rex’s shoulders. It’s nice. “I like, um, I like the other kind of kissing too, but this means a lot to me, and it’s one of those Mandalorian things they actually let us pick up.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says, and he, hells, he hasn’t even asked for proof of the soul marks, but he doesn’t need to, really, with the Force as insistent as it is. “So. Talk?”

“Yeah. Let’s talk.”

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

My Love| Echo pt 3

Note: i'll edit this later, my mouth hurts from wisdom teeth removal but wanted to get it out for you.

Warnings: No real warnings, but there is a semi spicey scene and mentions of nudity towards the end, but doesnt go into too far of detail. And Echo's legs are cannoned a bit lower than tcw meaning yes Echos got an ass, but his legs and thighs stuff like that are still metal so

Reader: Male

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 6

Master list

Y/n watched the boys try there food. They're faces lighting up as the room became silent, people busy digging into there food.

Y/n ate his own, his hand on Echo's thigh under the table, Echo's leg touching Y/n's.

"Ma'm this is way way! Better than rations!" Wrecker cheered.

"Im glad you like it so much, so tell me boys. What brought you over here?" Margie asked.

Hunter swallowed his food, "well we wanted to meet Echo's boyfriend Ma'm, we had no idea they had been dating for so long."

It was lucky for the group that talked they stayed together, near the head of the table where Margie sat, a small kid or two down from her.

"Echo's been nothing but a delight. To both my son and my family." Margie praised, "he's a good kid, Im assuming he gets it from his older brothers?"

"Oh...uh." Hunter spoke.

"He's older than us." Crosshair responded for the group.

"Oh?" She smiled, "you learn something new every day."

She looked at Y/n who nodded and smiled, "Yep."

"So where are you boys staying?" She asked.

Oh shit. Was the only thing Echo could think of. His brothers? Staying here?

"Oh we have our own place." Tech responded, "We live in a building complex called the Marauder."

Well that was a lie.

"Wait. Isn't that the name-" Y/n was cut off when Hunter kicked him.

"Ow.."

"Sorry. Foot must've slipped." Hunter responded his head slightly jolting towards the side, Echo was lost in his food, eating small spoon fulls, he was listening inteny even though he tried to cover his easedropping up.

"Oh! Yeah!" Y/n chuckled, Echo's frame slightly picking up.

"Oh. Nice place then?" Margie spoke.

"Oh..uh yeah. Decent..just a bit cramped but we don't mine." Hunter told, "we do alot of delivering off world too, so we work a decent amount...Echo! Echo here works the hardest. He may not be the strongest but he sure knows how to uh-"

"Pack a crate! And log the ports data. He's also a skilled mechanic!" Wrecker joined in.

What were they doing? Fake Prasing him? Why?

She smiled, "You boys seem like you like your jobs."

The boy's nodded, Y/n watched as Tech, Hunter and Wrecker hyped up Echo. The boy's trying to support Echo, "and you? Crosshair was it?"

Crosshair stopped from putting a spoonful in his mouth, "Oh. I.-" he looked at Echo infront of him, "I have a long way to go, a lot to learn."

"The youngest then?" She questioned.

"Yeah..." Crosshair responded bringing the food to his mouth.

"That's a sweet little bussniess you all have then," she congratulated, "We'd have to work with you one day, we have a business of our own."

"What's the bussniess if I may ask?" Tech questioned.

"Well our main bussniess is a food bussniess, you know selling buying, producing, but recently we've started a non-profit organization for battle droids."

"For battle droids? Clankers?" Wrecker asked.

"Thats what them clone boys call them," She smiled, "we basically rehab them, and send them back into the world, most as servants, translators. Small things."

"That's uh well..."

"I know I know. But here we believe that everything stands a chance." She contuined, "Echo has helped us alot on efficent repairs."

Echo nodded as he put a spoonful in his mouth.

"We have one that takes care of the animals in the small barn." Margie told, "Y/n! Have you showed them the animals dear?"

"No ma. This is only the second room they been in." Y/n informed.

"How dare you not give them a tour!" His mother spoke fake harshly, Y/n chuckling his mom soon following after.

"Oh mommy dearest I ask your humble apologies even though I don't deserve it. I suppose I'll sleep outside in the barn."

The two laughed as they smiled at one another.

"I'll show them around afterwords. Prepaired for your world to be rocked." He told the boys infront of him.

"Well I welcome you to the family boys. Its always a pleasure to have another few join the bunch!" She cheered.

"Thank you." Hunter spoke.

She smiled for a final time return to her food as did the others, small talk. Kids started asking to be excused, when excused they took there dishes and walked into the kitchen to clean there dishes and put them on the drying racks.

Echo finished before Y/n asking to be excused he got up with his dishes and went to clean them. Wrecker asked next, he being excused as he grabbed his own things and left.

Echo was along cleaning his dishes, his plate flat in the sink as he scrubbed the plate with one hand.

"Wanna hand?"

Echo turned his head, "oh. No. Im good."

Echo turned back towards his plates.

"Echo. Im. Im sorry." Wrecker apologized, "he's better than any lady you could date."

"Oh. Uh." Echo spoke, "thanks..."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Wrecker told him.

Echo frowned, "I. I know Wrecker. I shouldn't of yelled at you."

"We've should of waited for you to explain."

Putting his dishes on the drying rack he turned to Wrecker who stood next to him, Wrecker's dishes sat on the counter patiently waiting for his turn.

"It's. Okay." Echo responded, "I, I forgive you, at the end of the day. I'm the only one dating him. Right?"

Wrecker smiled, "So. We're okay?"

Echo nodded, quickly being picked up in a hug as he chuckled, patting Wrecker's shoulder.

"Now do your dishes before Y/n's mom cuts your head off." Echo joked waving smally to him.

Echo walked back out, going down the hall and too the living room, the room filled with silence as he collected the cups from eariler.

Bent over setting all the cups down accordingly there was a whistle, a soft one, not loud enough for anyone to hear if they weren't in the room.

"Would you look at that ass." Y/n spoke, Echo standing straight as he turned around, "aren't you a gifted fellow?"

Echo chuckled, "You should be careful what you say in here."

It was Y/n's turn to chuckle.

"Why's that?"

"Why do you think?" Echo questioned as he watched Y/n walk forward, grabbing his hips and pulling Echo closer.

"All I do is tell the truth," Y/n smiled.

Echo's arms drapped on Y/n's shoulder's, Y/n holding his hips.

"Now this is something we shouldn't be doing in here." Y/n teased.

Echo smiled, "One kiss never hurt anyone?"

"Oh?"

Y/n smiled, leaning down kissing Echo. His hand running through Y/n's hair, Y/n pulled away from Echo, foreheads resting on one another.

"I love you." Y/n told him.

"I love you too." Echo smiled.

Y/n pulled him into a short kiss, "You wanna sit on my lap again baby?"

"Gladly-" Echo was cut off again with a kiss, a chuckle filling his mouth from Y/n.

"Get a damn room!"

Y/n pulled away, glaring at the teen.

"Well Enzo. I am in a room! So get out of it!" Y/n argued, Echo's head in Y/n's shoulder.

"Well mom wants you to give those guys a tour." Enzo responded.

"Alright." Y/n spoke, turning back to Echo, "Later baby."

Echo was give a kiss on the lips, Y/n grabbed the tray.

"I can do that," Echo spoke stopping Y/n.

"How about you can do this one day, when we have our own home." Y/n spoke, "you know when we're married and have a little farm."

Echo flushed deeply, a farm? With him and Y/n all by themselves? Sounded...sounded. amazing.

Y/n pulled away from him tray in hand, "come on let's give that tour."

Echo followed Y/n dropping off the tray and then taking the boys around, introducing them to all the kids, big, medium small to twilek, zabrack, human to torguata. All of diffrent personalities. Some reading on there bed, some working out, some listening to music, others playing with dolls and action figures.

And then there was his room, nothing special, Echo and his favorite record in sitting still as the song had finished, a box of records tucked under the small table the record player sat on. The sheets a dark purple his pillow cases a matching dark blue a window at the far end.

"Please come in." Y/n responded offering them to come in and look around.

They filed in, the room fitting all them comfortably.

"It's quiet simple," Tech explained, "Your personality is a bit more bubbly so I was expecting something wild."

"Like that?" Crosshair questioned.

"Like what?" Tech responded turning around to face the wall behind them.

The wall was filled with photos, drawings and dried flowers, a vintage theme, branching off into its sub groups.

"There it is." Tech repsonded adjusting his glasses.

"Please feel free to look around." Y/n responded.

Crosshair stood next to Wrecker as they looked at the photos.

"Hey! It's Echo! Look!" Wrecker cheered as Crosshair peered over, the photo of Echo asleep on the couch, kids knocked out with him, "and Kamino!"

"How's you get a picture of Kamino?" Hunter questioned now also looking at the photos.

"Echo here got it for me." Y/n smiled as Echo rubbed the back of his head, "Its not just my memories up there- Hey! Lets get our own photo up there!"

Y/n got up going over to his desk as he lifted the top up pulling the old porloroid out.

"Echo." Crosshair spoke as the clone came over, "wanna explain this one?"

Echo looked at the photo, he clearly knocked out in Y/n's bed, his back bare hinting towards what had happened before hand, the blanket covering to his mid back and down, his arms tucked under a pillow permentatly fluffing it up as his cheek was baired into it.

"Not bad." Crosshair spoke nudging his brother, he was trying.

"Here is is new film and all." Y/n smiled going towards the group, "Come on! Gather around."

Y/n smiled as the group akwardly grouped together infront of the window. Looking at the group he rushed over, pushing them closer together.

"It'll be on a timer so I only have a few seconds." Y/n told them walking back over, "ready?"

"Uh sure?"

Y/n quickly pushed the button rushing over to the group, he quickly stood next to Echo. There was a click as Y/n rushed back over. The photo coming out the bottom as Tech rushed over intrested.

"Oh nice its comin through already." Y/n smiled, soon waving the square around as he walked over to his desk picking out a red and black thumb tack.

"Hmm..." y/n spoke rushing over to the wall looking around, "hah! Echo come here! Help me put this up."

Echo walked over as the boys watched him hand Echo the image and tack.

"See right there." Y/n pointed a spot above the door, dead center towards the ceiling.

"We'll move this one." Y/n said pulling up an old photo besides the light switch "up there."

Handing Echo the old photo they swapped Y/n pinning the new one with the group with a smile.

"Ready?"

"Yeah-"

Echo was grabbed by the legs, Y/n picking him up as Y/n grabbed the back off his thighs.

"A bit higher." Echo spoke as Y/n pulled his arms back, tight on Echo's thighs he pushed the clone upward, his thighs now trapping Y/n's face as Y/n's hands vanished behind Echo's kama skirt.

"Got it?" Y/n asked his chin resting at Echo's belt.

"Yeah." Echo spoke, his face red as he cleared his throat.

"Ready?'

"No- Y/n-" He spoke as Y/n laughed walking towards his bed, "Y/n! Y/n! I'll kill you don't- Ah!-"

Y/n tossed the trooper on the bed he bouncing as he let out a grunt, Y/n only chuckled turning back towards the boys, "come on i'll show you that barn they were talking about."

Y/n lead the boys along to the backyard, showing them the small barn his father worked on fixing a small animals leg, waving a B-1 droid showed up in a happy matter the others ready to fight.

"Master Y/n!"

"Please Y/n is fine B." Y/n smiled, "Boys this is B. He helps with the animals."

With an akward introduction the batchers kept there distance, but with the end of the small barn came the end of the tour. It now late in the hours of the day as the boys made there way our. Excusing themselves for the night.

"You'll have to come back." Y/n smiled.

"If its okay with Echo and your mother. " Hunter spoke, "and you of course."

"We'd be delighted to have you again." Y/n smiled, "Please. Come anytime with Echo. Or by yourselves. We're open doors."

Hunter nodded, the batch saying there goodbyes and thanks once more. They started there way away from the home, Tech staying back, "I suppose not all regs are regular after all. And that's good."

With his last comment Tech rushed to join the others.

Echo stayed behind with Y/n who smiled as the boys vanished.

"Now. That we're. Alone." Y/n teased.

"Alone? Really in this house?" Echo teased back.

Y/n chuckled, "as alone as we can be."

Echo smiled as Y/n closed the door.

"I'll go make some more milk and honey, you. Go get ready to cuddle." Y/n ordered playfully.

"Thats something I can do."

Him and Y/n unfortunately went separate ways, Y/n cleaning the cups and pot setting them to dry as one of the old B-1 droids would put the mass of dishes away during the night.

He pulled out another pot, putting it on the stove filled with the sweet liquid he wipped the tray clean, putting a fresh set of cookies on a small plate and two cups. Just in time as the pot started to whistle, pulling it off the stove he turned the gas off and went to his room.

Holding the tray in one hand he opened his door, "hey hope you didn't miss me too..."

Y/n's frame filling the door way, but froze seeing Echo's bare back facing him, a blanket sat high waisted on him as Y/n quickly stepped in, quiet with his steps he locked the door behind him, Echo now standing up and facing Y/n the blanket still around his waist.

"I uh..." Echo responded with a flush, "thought...you might like this first..."

Y/n flushed as Echo dropped the blanket, setting the tray on the nearest surface big enough, the floor flush against the wall besides the door, he walked over, kicking his shoes off in the process.

"Baby you have no idea how much I like this." Y/n told him, Echo's gaze away.

Maker. Y/n took his thumb to Echo's chin, Y/n's soft skin lightly tapping up Echo's chin to look up at him. Holding Echo's chin in place with his thumb and index finger Y/n smiled smally, his eyes filled with love for the pale male infront of him.

"Y/n. I..." Echo trailed off.

"Shh..." Y/n hushed softly, his thumb running down Echo's lip and back to his chin, "You don't have to say anything..."

Echo raised on his toes, leaning up to kiss Y/n, Y/n leaned down, the first kiss was almost shy, there lips only pressing together in sweet presence of one another. The small kiss leaving Echo breathless. They pulled away shortly. Another one soon be initiated, Y/n nudging Echo to sit down softly, he following Echo's movements, Y/n sitting besides him, the kissing barely any more intense, Echo swinging a leg over Y/n's straddling the taller male.

Y/n held the small of Echo's back, the two's makeout session growing in heat as Y/n's hands running down Echo's back and to his ass, where he gladly let his hands rest of Echo's warm skin while they kissed.

It was soon for breathe they pulled away, Y/n attaching himself to Echo's neck. Echo's hand through Y/n's hair as he hummed against Echo's pale skin, earing a soft mewel.

"Y/n...take me...take me away..." Echo whispered, Y/n laying Echo down on his back, his lips never movinv from Echo's shoulder.

"Take me away...Y/n..." Echo meweled softly, the words spilling from Echo's vocal cords once again.

Y/n stopped momentarily to lean up into Echo's ear, "only if I can come along baby..."

The night was filled with passion, hair being pulled in pleasure, moans dripping off each others lips, ripped from there vocal cords in call for the other one. Pleads drawn from the bottom as Echo left a few new scratch marks on Y/n's back, along with a line of hickeys following Y/n's collar blade to sholder. Y/n did the same, leaving hickies along Echo's body, where skin met metal.

Echo laid flat on his stomach now, his head turned towards Y/n. Y/n held a stupid large smile on his face, his finger's interlaced with Echo's.

"That was somethin else babe." Y/n told him softly, "Parched after the time of your life?"

Echo chuckled as Y/n pulled himself up, and out of bed. Echo receiving a pleasent veiw of Y/n's behind with one side having present marks, they currently defined and fresh, marks both darker and lighter spotted Y/n's back, mostly towards his shoulder and nape of his neck.

Echo watched Y/n pick up the tray and make his way back to the bed setting it on the nightstand, climbing back in the covers as Echo nuzzle up to Y/n.

"Clingy now are we? Let me pour you a cup atleast." Y/n chuckled.

Pouring them both cups Echo was handed one cold cup, "Thanks."

"Mhmm," Y/n acknowledged the two cuddled up, "shame its cold. Must sat for too long, needy thing arent you?"

Echo flustered, but took a risk himself, "Could still be longer."

"Oh? And what are you gonna do that I haven't done to you?" Y/n teased, Echo took a heavy drink, hoping it would bring him energy later taking Y/n's he sat it on the nightstand next to his own side of the bed.

Echo pushed Y/n onto the bed flat, the covers still hiding Y/n's lower half.

"I haven't rode you." Echo told boldly.

Y/n smirked up at him, "You're right you haven't,"

Echo's leg's swinging over Y/n, "Think you can handle me?" Echo questioned.

Y/n chuckled, "Baby you have no idea what I'd endure for you." Y/n sat up, holding Echo's face with a hand.

"Lets see then." Echo responded Y/n biting his lip as he pushed the covers down with a foot.

Y/n was pulled into a kiss, his hands running up and down Echo's back as Echo pushed him to the bed, the kiss never breaking.

Read the Next Part here if you like smut or stay generally sfw here

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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There are some buzz words everywhere and, in the writing world, and it feels to me like ‘journaling’ is one of them. It’s something everyone seems to be doing.

It took me a while to build a journaling habit, and I wouldn’t say I’m quite there yet with my Journaling discipline, but whatever experience I’ve had with it has been incredibly beneficial.

What’s Journaling?

Back to the old trusted dictionary! Journaling is defined as:

To write in a journal or diary.

Simple, right?

For those of you with a penchant for etymology and random fun facts, the word ‘journal’ comes from the Latin ‘diurnalis’, or ‘diurnus’, meaning ‘daily’. In late Middle English, a journal originally referred to a book containing the appointed times of daily prayers. (If you use this as an ice-breaker at your next dinner party, please let me know!)

Nowadays, journaling is a lot more about keeping track of one’s praying schedule, and much more about recording one’s thoughts in an informal, free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness manner.

It’ll take different forms for different people, and the great thing about it is that (in my view) there isn’t a right or wrong way to journal. The only right way to do it is the way that feels right to you. As with any form of writing, craft or art in general, it’s all about individual preference, and highly subjective. And because Journaling is generally something that remains personal and private, you can do whatever the heck you want with it.

Pretty great, isn’t it?

Why Journaling is Good For You.

Based on my own experience, I’ve found a few benefits to journaling:

Pressure-free writing.

I’ve found that Journaling, because it follows no set rule and isn’t meant to be shared, is a great chance to write without any pressure. To write just because you want to write, with no other agenda than indulging in your love of putting words together on a page.

To me, writing without an outcome in mind is always liberating. It’s a chance to reconnect with your craft in way you might not if there was a clear purpose to it, like writing a book due to be published or a blog article meant to be posted online.

Experiment with your writing.

Journaling is also the perfect format to experiment with your writing, and try your hand at something new. Maybe you normally write fiction, and Journaling is a chance to give poetry a go. Maybe you generally blog, and your journal can start hosting plots and ideas for a novel, regardless of what you make of it later. Maybe you’ll want to try writing exercises—like jotting down ideas from a prompt or in a specific style. Or you could start recording dreams and memories you can remember.

Discomfort is where we grow, so putting yourself in those situations regularly is a great opportunity to expand your writing abilities and hone your skills. Who knows, there may be writing gold in there somewhere!

Never forget an idea.

I don’t know about you, but I often get ideas for my writing and beyond at the most inconvenient moments—in the shower, whilst cooking, doing the dishes, or picking up dog poop (I know, oh the glamour of a writer’s life!). I always think that I’ll remember these, but the truth is, most of them get forgotten, never to be retrieved again from the confines of my mind.

Journaling is a great way never to lose sight of an idea. My Journaling involves a lot of notes about random ideas I have for a plot, a story, a post, or life activities in general. They serve as inspiration for the future. Writing them down helps me rest assured that I can go back to that list and explore it later, whenever convenient.

Free your mind &notice trends.

One of the most important things I’ve notice happen when I journal, is that it helps me empty my mind fro ma lot of the never-ending thinking loops I tend to fall victim to. By putting thoughts down on paper, I’m able to see them more clearly, and my brain finally feels like it no longer needs to hold onto them. Jotting things down is a great way to break your pattern of thinking (or, if you’re like me, obsessing) and to allow yourself time to take a step back and look at the big picture.

Whether it’s something you’re stuck on in your writing, or in your life in general, journaling on it is powerful, especially if you do it regularly. Not only will you create more space in your mind for better and brighter things—say, your next brilliant writing idea!—but it’ll also give you a chance to notice trends and recurring themes. And that’s a great way to build awareness about your own patterns of behaviour, and start eradicating your most negative or toxic thinking habits.

Keep a record.

Performance coach Tony Robbins (yes, him again! What can I say, I’m a huge fan) says that ‘if your life is worth living it’s worth recording’. I couldn’t agree more. Journaling gives you a chance to be your own life historian. To keep track of where you’ve been and how far you’ve gone. To look back on those day-to-day accomplishments that may look minute at the time but all add up to something big and wonderful in the end.

Looking at your own existence and experience as something that’s worth keeping a record of also sends your subconscious mind a clear message: that’s you’re worthy. You’re enough. Every moment of your life has an impact, the good and the bad, and helps mould who you become.

I’d say there are few more powerful truths to embrace in your lifetime!

Getting Started with Journaling.

That’s all well and good, you might say, but where do I start?

Fear not, my friend, here are some suggestions to get you started.

1. Set a schedule — If you don’t make time for it, chances are it won’t happen, because life has a habit of getting in the way. Identify a time that works best for you—whether that’s morning, midday, evening etc.—and schedule it in your calendar, setting a reminder so you don’t forget about it. If finding time daily feels daunting or unrealistic, why not start with once a week, or a couple of times a week?

2. Make it a habit — Stick to it! Whether it comes naturally or not, be disciplined about it. Embrace whatever comes, both the joys and the discomfort of it. Set yourself a goal—every day for a week, every other day for a month etc.—and sit with it for the entire duration you committed to.

3. Set a timer — Journaling doesn’t have to take a lot of time. I tend to journal for about ten minutes at a time on average, sometimes less and sometimes more. If you’re unsure what duration to start with, set a timer for ten minutes and see what comes up.

4. Let it flow — As I mentioned above, Journaling may or may not feel natural at first. It may feel great or it may feel uncomfortable. Whatever comes up for you, let it flow. Why not journal about the sensations and feelings the experience of journaling brings up? It may end up being one thing one day and something altogether different the next. Whatever it is for you at any given time is what’s right. Be open-minded, remember this is unique and personal, and no one—not even you—should ever judge it.

The Power of Rituals.

If you’re still unsure about the value of journaling, or about getting started with it, let me say this one final thing: the most important piece of the puzzle, as with anything else you do, is defining your ‘why’—i.e. the reasons behind your decision to start (or continue) journaling. Ask yourself:

Why do you want to start journaling?

Why is it important to you?

How do you think it’ll make you feel? How do you want it to make you feel?

What difference do you think it’ll make to you, to your life, to your writing?

Clearly defining your ‘why’ and your intentions will help you maintain the habit. More importantly, understanding the value this holds to you will take journaling from a mere habit—which can feel like a chore—to a ritual of self-care. That’s the difference between doing it because you think it’s cool, or because everyone is doing it, or because you think you should do it, and doing it because you know for a fact, in your core, that this will make you and your writing better and stronger.

This will go a long way in making it more enjoyable. It’ll help you build rituals around it that are nurturing and caring. Get yourself to acknowledge why it’s good for you and why it’s pleasurable, and then set up the environment to make your journaling time feel like an absolute treat. Maybe that’s setting the scene in the room where you journal with a candle or some background music. Maybe that’s selecting a nice notebook if you’re doing this by hand, or picking your favourite writing spot, at home or beyond.

Eventually, these will all act as triggers to get you into the right journaling mindset whenever you’re sitting down for it.

And if you’re not quite sure what that all looks like for you… Well. Isn’t that a great topic to start journaling about?

[colormeyondublue]

Chapter 12: Cards With The Boys (NSFW)

Chapter 11 Here

After confessing his love for you, you decide it was about time to move in with the Captain. It didn’t take long to get your things together because you don’t have much. After getting settled in the Captain’s quarters, you felt your heart soar at how for you two have come.

Later, you sit at your desk in your office tying up some loose ends, day dreaming of Yondu, and of going back to Earth. There isn’t much work to be done, but the peacefulness of your office brings you a sense of normalcy that you dearly missed. While you made sure your data drives were totally backed up and in working order, your door opens quietly. You glance behind you to see Yondu’s handsome face. You turn back to your computer and tell him you’ll be done in just a second.

“Do ya really gotta be working right now? Ya work all the damn time. There ain’t even much that needs done right now anyway! The crew’s gonna be on leave fer a few weeks while we’re gone.”

“I work because I like to!” You protest. “Besides, I’m almost done. Hold your horses.”

“Ya still never explained ta me what a horse even is ya know.” Yondu huffs as he sits down on the couch in your office.

You sigh and shake your head. You never imagined you’d have to explain to an adult what a horse was, but here you are. You eject the data drive and throw it in the drawer of your desk. “A horse, is a large mammalian quadruped with both binocular and monocular vision. They can weigh anywhere between 800 to 1,800 – sometimes 2,000 pounds! They’ve been used by my people as a source of food, labor, transportation and companionship for thousands of years. They’ve helped Terrans in every aspect of life, and nothing that we’ve accomplished to this point could have been done without their help. They’ve fought in our wars, and carried entire countries on their backs at times. In modern times they are primarily pets, used to work livestock, or ridden in competition.”

The captain rubs his chin for a moment. “What’s a pound?”

You stare at him blankly for a good few moments before it dawns on you. You are going to have to explain a lot to Yondu when you get to Earth. There is so much that he still doesn’t know about.

“A pound is just a unit of measurement. It’s used in some countries to quantify how much something weighs. It’s directly related to Earth’s gravitational pull. You know as well as I do that something on Krylor wouldn’t weigh the same as it would on Xandar, right?

“Yeah, I know that. But pounds is just what ya’ll call it?” He asks.

“Well…in some places. In others they might measure weight a little differently. But that’s a whole other conversation for another time. How about I just show you a horse when we get to Earth?” You chuckle.

“Sounds like a plan ta me. But anyway, what I came down here for was ta ask ya if ya wanted to play cards with me and the boys?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s already getting kind of late, and I don’t know how to play.”

Yondu stands up from where he’s sitting and approaches you. He steps behind you and gently gathers your hair to one side of your neck. He bends down to place light, seductive kisses up and down your neck before murmuring in your ear, “Come on baby, I ain’t seen ya all day. It’ll just be a few hands, and I wanna show you off to my men for a while. Show ‘em what’s mine.” He continues to kiss you along the length of your neck, and he begins to pull your sleeve down your shoulder to taste a little bit more of your skin. You can’t stop your breaths from coming in deeper and slower. Yondu never fails to make you melt in his hands.

“Alright, alright. You talked me into it. But that mouth of yours just isn’t fair. You cheated and you know it!”

Yondu laughs and gives you a smug grin as he points to himself, “Uhh, Ravager? Not to mention, I’m a Ravager Captain. I see somethin’ I want, and I take it. Including you.” He tugs you closer by your waist and kisses you hard and heavy.

You pull away after a few moments and ask, “Okay, so do you want to get some or go play cards? I’m not sure that we have time for both.”

He growls in annoyance at your point. “Damn. Ya might be right. Let’s go.”

~~~

You both sit down at the poker table in the ship’s bar with Yondu, Kraglin, Oblo, Tullk, and Geff. These guys have honestly become your closest friends, and you were happy to have a drink with them and learn to play card games. You were learning a Xandarian game that is similar to Black Jack, except there’s more suits and the cards are octogons. It’s a little confusing at first, but you catch on pretty quick. A few hands in, Tullk asks you if you’re excited to see Terra again.

“Yeah! I can’t wait to see the trees and breathe in the air. I miss our sunsets and forests. I miss the songs the birds sing. I miss the smell of the rain. But I think I miss our blue skies even more.” You smile softly and glance over at Yondu. He smiles back and offers you a quick wink as he takes a swig of his beer. He pulls you closer to him with one firm tug on your seat, and throws his arm over the back of your chair.

“Sounds like a neat place to me!” Geff chimes in as he looks over his hand.

“Got any idea of what your plan might be? What are you gonna do first?” Oblo asks.

“Well…I guess I’ll try to find my mom first. I think she would still live in the same place. I can’t imagine she would move. It’s only been a few years. Then once I find her, I’ll get in touch with my sister. But when it comes to introducing them to Yondu – well, I think I’m gonna have to explain a few things first. Ease them into it. Ya know? I know a place where Yondu can lay low until everything is calmed down. Being kidnapped by an alien race and then shipped out all over the galaxy isn’t going to be easy to explain.” You rub your temple lightly. It didn’t occur to you just how much of a shock your return might be.

“So Tullk, have you ever thought about going back?” You ask, hoping it’s an innocent enough question.

“Nah, not me lass. There isn’t anythin’ left fer me on our planet. I’m happy here with the crew. Mah life back on Terra was a little rough. Got in with some men who were less than savory. Joined Yondu’s crew an’ never looked back.”

The rest of the game you listen to Kraglin and Oblo’s banter back and forth, and wonder to yourself what kind of people Tullk got involved with. You figure that some things are better left unsaid, and as long and he’s happy here, that’s enough for you. Once the game is over, Kraglin gets the cards together and everyone heads in for the night. As you’re walking toward the door, Yondu grabs your hand.

“Hey honey, me ‘n Krags are gonna go over a few things around the ship fer when you and I leave tomorrow. I’ll meet you back at ma quarters?”

“Sure thing, but don’t be too long.” You stand on your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek, and head toward the Captain’s quarters.

~~~

You’re playing your list of songs on your personal playlist while you pack for the trip. You find out that there are thousands of songs you hadn’t listened to yet. You had no idea at first, but these data devices Kraglin uses have seemingly endless storage. You were getting a little buzzed, having gotten into Yondu’s whiskey stash at his minibar. A little celebration was in order since you were going back to Earth with Yondu. You were dancing hazily to Fantasy by Mariah Carey. Yondu walks back toward his cabin door, hears some muffled song and smirks to himself. As quietly as possible, he opens the door to find you dancing drunkenly to the music. He enters the room and you don’t even notice his presence as you continue to dance and sing. He creeps into the room and sits down in his recliner, interested in just watching you.

As much of a goofy drunk as you are, he smiles to himself. You might just be the best thing that ever happened to me, girl.  

The song changes over to Love On The Brain by Rhianna. Although your playlist has a ton of different songs, music was something that always resonated with you, and you liked almost anything. With the lyrics of the song carrying you away, you feel large, warm hands on your hips as you sway to the music. Immediately knowing who is feeling you up, you lean into his body and he begins to sway with you. He brings his lips to your neck and kisses you slowly. His lips kiss and part from your neck over and over, and it makes your core ache as warmth spreads through your limbs. Letting go, you fall into him even more, surrendering yourself to him. His hands begin to wander over your body, feeling your hips and thighs. You let out a few breathy moans, and your knees grow weak. While still facing away from him, you bring up your arms and wrap them around his neck as he teases your ear with his tongue. He notices that his bottle of Krylorian Whiskey is almost half empty, and you are way past buzzed at this point.

Baby you got me like ah, woo, ah Don't you stop loving me (loving me) Don't quit loving me (loving me) Just start loving me (loving me)

Oh, and baby I'm fist fighting with fire Just to get close to you Can we burn something, babe? And I run for miles just to get a taste Must be love on the brain That's got me feeling this way (feeling this way) It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good And I can't get enough Must be love on the brain yeah And it keeps cursing my name (cursing my name) No matter what I do, I'm no good without you And I can't get enough Must be love on the brain

The beat carries you both to his bed and he continues his loving assault on your torso and neck. At this point, the room is spinning a little, and the next thing you see is a gorgeous blue chest, and your captains’ pants slowly being undone. You are more than frisky, and the second his pants come undone, you dive into him. He doesn’t have a chance to argue, as his cock is already making its way into your mouth. He groans in response, and finds a fistful of your hair. The alcohol in your veins gives you some kind of super power and your skills with his manhood are already blowing his mind. He peers down at you with his head tilted to the side, groaning at the sensation you’re giving him. All of that whiskey has made your gag reflex vanish, and you can take him deep into your throat. He watches intently as his cock disappears into your mouth and he moans loudly. You continue to blow him out of his mind for a while longer, polishing the head every now and again. You hear him speak up, “Baby girl, I’m gonna cum if ya don’t stop.”

You look up him momentarily, roll your eyes with pleasure and moan on his cock. You’ve got him exactly where you want him. In a few more minutes, he spits out a string of curses at the intensity of his orgasm. “Oh, fuckin’ hell – yes! Shit….mmmhmm.” He pushes his raging hard cock as deep into your mouth as you can stand, and cums down your throat. You slowly slide his cock out of your mouth, and sensually lick the tip clean.

“It’s even better than I expected.” You smirk up at him. His cum tastes wildly different than a human’s. It isn’t bitter at all. It’s still slightly salty, but it’s also a little sweet and nutty. The taste was completely unexpected, and you almost couldn’t believe it. You tease his sensitive cock with your tongue to make it jump. “Oh, fuck. Ya might be more than I can handle when you drink like that.” He huffs out a laugh and collapses on the bed. “Alright, yer turn sugar.”

“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good. I want to show you how much you mean to me. I don’t need anything. This was more than enough for me.” You kiss him lovingly, and snuggle into his side.

“I love you y/n. Ya really are an amazin’ woman. A damn whiskey bandit, but amazin’.”

~~~

The next morning, Yondu is still in bed with you. He wakes you up slightly by wrapping his strong arms around you and he pulls you as close as he can. You never thought in a million years that Yondu would be a cuddler, but in the privacy of his cabin he usually turned into a huge teddy bear.

“Good morning, handsome.” You mumble.

“Mornin’, sugar. Guess what?” He asks.

“What?”

“Today’s the day.” He says as he gently rubs your legs.

You push up on your arms quickly and look around the room. Today’s the day?! Oh my gosh, today’s the day!” You jump out of bed and start to get undressed.

“Woah, wait a minute! Where you goin’? We’ve got all day, slow down girl. Come ‘ere.” He beckons you back to him before you can get your t-shirt and sweats all the way off. You smile and crawl back into bed with your captain. “I wanna spend a little more time with ma woman before we head out. It’s gonna be a long flight, and who knows how long we might hafta be apart while you get your family stuff sorted out.” He pulls you close, and you happily snuggle into his warm embrace. Yondu is the warmest, and most incredible big spoon ever. His warmth is amazing, his body is so firm and strong. His hands engulf your torso almost completely. Absentmindedly, you rub your hands along his arms as he holds you.

“I love you.” These are the only words you can come up with, and yet they barely capture your feelings for him.

“I love you too, honey.” He takes in a deep breath and sighs. Yondu is trying his best to keep his worries at bay. He’s going to take up as much time as he can with you, which is why he wants to be so cuddly. It’s almost as if he’s afraid that you could vanish from his embrace. Today was not going to be an easy one for him. The uncertainty is maddening.

[echos-newlegs]

Hey there y’all, this is my first ever post and it was a request from a friend (idk their tumblr yet, I’ll probably just share it with them on Instagram lmao.) anyways it is a multiple part, Echo x Fem!Reader and you’ve landed on the first part! I will be linking the second part below after I make it. You can message me request too, and I’ll get to them before or after I finish this, I may do some prompt lists 😏 This is post and then Pre-Citadel. Reader has a daughter from a previous relationship and I promise it’ll get more interesting. I’ve never actually wrote and posted a story of any of the clones and I feel like I don’t do Echo any justice, but enough talk here ye be.

(P.S. c/n means child’s name. My friend was very specific with this request)

Part One - Part 2

Echo sat up at the bar. A drink in hand that he was slowly milking. His mind was everywhere but there. He was thinking about the war, sleep, his brothers he’s lost, who he could have and didn’t save. It was all a nightmare and a half. He’d honestly pay for just a simple hug from someone who wasn’t his brothers. Even from Ahsoka. Someone who he knew cared about him, but wasn’t part of him. If that made any sense?

So he stepped away from the bar with a sharp sigh. Patting Fives back. Gloved hand slapping against the others armor. “I’m gunna head for a walk,” “Want me to join ya?” Fives asked in a slur. He was obviously not milking his drinks like Echo was. Causing him to smile with a chuckle, “no, I’ll be fine, you.. Keep an eye on Rex.” He teased and Fives grinned. “You got it, vod.” He spoke and spun in his chair to face the other clones.

The moment Echo stepped out the door he felt a bit better. It wasn’t as stuffy and loud out as it was back in 79’s. Starting his little stroll with a small hum. He wasn’t even sure what he was humming. Just a ramble of tunes he had heard. “Mama, look!” He heard a voice shout. A little one. “C/N! Get back here!”a woman shouted and before Echo could turn around there was someone tapping on the back of his leg. “Mister, are you a clone?” Echo turned, raising an arm and looking down to the child. Brows furrowed, a small smile rising to his face. “Hello to you too, little one, yeah, yeah I am..” he murmured and the little girl squealed. “Mama it is a clone trooper! Are you one of the boys in blue? You have to be! I see you on the holo- Mama!” She rambled, and then shouted when you pulled her from Echo. “I am so so sorry about her.” You spoke. Bags of fruit and other groceries in one hand and stuffed under your arm. Your other hand now holding your daughters hand.

Echo was amazed by how much the kid knew. Smiling softly in amusement. Though he was even more amused when you came into view. You were breath taking, really. Running up behind her and pulling her back from him. Apologizing for the incident. Though he didn’t really mind. “Oh, no need to apologize ma’am, feels nice to be recognized by someone,” he joked, c/n whining a bit. “Mama, he’s part of the five oh first, I know it, I do. I was just asking him questions.” “Well baby, you can’t go running off like that,” “but mama-“ Echo kneeled and caught the girls attention, both of you actually. “You know, good soldiers follow orders, you need to listen to your mama, she just wants you safe,” he spoke. Smiling at the kid and she stared at him in awe. You watching Echo with an intrigued expression. “Yes, mr. clone sir.” She piped and Echo giggled at that. Nudging the girls shoulder. “At ease, solder, I’m an Arc Trooper, not a Captain or Commander, names Echo.” “Echo..” she whispered, “I’m c/n, and this is my mama, and she loves the 501st, and-“ you grew a bit flustered, laughing a bit nervously. “Okay hun, that’s enough. We should probably let him be now.”

Echo stood from where he was crouched, looking you in the face for a moment. “Can I at least help you with your bags,” “y/n,” he smiled as you said your name. “Y/n, it’s the least I could do.” He spoke and you smiled a bit sheepishly. Glancing down to the bags and then back to him. “Sure,” you gave in. You couldn’t say no. His eyes pleaded with you and you lost the battle. Though it wasn’t hard to convince you when help was offered. You handed him some of the bags and he took them. You stuck with less now since he took most of the heavy things. Giving you a look when you went to tell him it was fine. That you could carry them. “Least I can do for a supporter,” he added with a smile that had you smiling black and even blushing a little.

The three of you got to the apartment you lived at. You pulling out your key as your daughter rambled, somethings incoherent. Pushing the door open, your daughter running in, and you following. Turning to motion for echo to follow with a small grin. “C’mon, Arc Trooper,” you added with a grin, snickering slightly as he stumbled a bit through the door.

Echo sat the things down, looking around the house slightly before they landed back onto you. “Would you like to stay for supper?” You asked, putting away some of the groceries. “Nah, I don’t want to intrude.” You smiled, turning as you shut the fridge. “Please? It’s the least I could do, for a helper. Plus you’d make my daughters day, you guys are her hero’s.” You added and he smiled, “Alright, alright, you got me.” He added. Though he was going to say yes even if you would have just said please. He was hungry, and something other than rations sounded like an absolute blessing. Not only that, but he wanted to get to know you more. You intrigued him, you were beautiful and kind. Yet he barely knew you and already wanted to make this a normal thing.

While you fixed up supper Echo ended up wandering off with your daughter. The five year old grabbing his hand and dragging him back into her room to show him her toys. It made you a little nervous, even if he was a clone. You knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but you rarely left anyone alone with her. She was really all you had left. Her father leaving the both of you behind shortly after she was born. So you ventured back while you let some of the meat cook. Seasonings already filling the air and your senses. Peaking into the bedroom to see Echo sitting on the floor with her.. Playing. The sight shocked you more than it did him really. Standing, watching for a moment with a small smile on your face.

Echo was using the toy ship she had, flying it around and imitating noises as your daughter did the same. Brows knitted together just the slightest bit in concentration. “Ahhhh, your ships been hit!” She exclaimed and Echo gasped. “Oh no, Crash landing, or as General Skywalker would say.” “Surprise landing!” The two exclaimed at the same time. Causing the, to break into a fit of giggles. You bringing a hand up to your mouth as you leaned against the door way. Giggling a bit yourself.

Your little laugh made Echos head turn to face the door. “Ma- er- y/n,” “is the food ready mama?” Your daughter interrupted him, and you could swear he was blushing. “It nearly is, go get washed up honey,” you added and your daughter shot up. Tapping Echos shoulder, “C’mon, we have to wash our hands before we eat, Echo.” She stated with a grin and you chuckled as the two passed you to the bathroom. Catching Echos glance and shrug. Which cause you to giggle again. Catching him smile even more before he turned away,

The two came back, your daughter on his shoulders and you were dishing out food for the three of you. “Mama look! I’m big!” She was in a fit of laughter, and he was too. You hadn’t seen her so happy in what felt like forever. “You are, aren’t you?” You cooed a bit and watched as he pulled her off and placed her into a chair. Sitting in his own. “No, mama sits there,” she spoke and you furrowed your brows. “Oh sorry,” “I’m joking,” your daughter blurted with a snicker and you sighed. “She’s full of those.” You rolled your eyes as you sat and Echo seated himself again. Smiling at you as he sat across from you. “Does she get the sense of humor from you?” He asked with a brow raised. You meeting his gaze with a bit of a smirk. “Maybe she does,” causing you both to laugh a bit.

The three of you ate, but it wasn’t without conversation. You had your fair share of questions. Asking about the hand print on his armor. Why he was on Corusant and wandering. Instead of at 79’s like you noticed most other clones were. Which he has an answer for each question. Though he did seem a bit nervous almost. Once finished you instructed your daughter to get ready for bed. Though she was hesitant, she finally did shuffle off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and then her room to get dressed. Leaving you and Echo in the kitchen by yourselves.

You collected all the dishes and placed them in the sink, deciding to do them after he left. “Let me help you,” “You’ve done enough helping today, soldier.” You told him with a grin. “Sit back down, it’s fine.” You added, and he smiled. Doing as told, “yes sir,” he added and you let out a titter. He was so formal and cute.

You sat back down across from him, and he was staring at his hands. “Thank you,” you spoke. He looked up with his brows raised. “For helping, and making my daughters world.” You spoke and he shrugged. “It’s my pleasure, y/n.” You pressed your lips together. Watching him for a moment or two. “I’d love to have you back,” you words shocked him. Watching as your cheeks tinted pink and your eyes darted down to your hands folded on the table. “I mean, if you’re ever on Corusant again, I really enjoyed your company. Don’t find a lot of nice people anymore.” People. The word was vague, meaningless to most, but the fact you didn’t call him a clone made his day. You included him as someone, not what he was. “Plus it’d make c/n’s day.” He smiled and nodded. “I’d love to, I don’t find a lot of people willing to feed, let alone hang out with clones like me.” You scoffed a bit and chuckled. “You’re kidding right?” His smile faded a bit. “No?” “Echo, you’re absolutely wonderful, and I don’t see why People wouldn’t want to hang around you. What? Just because you share the same face with a million other people? That’s ridiculous and people are obviously missing out.”

Your words weren’t much. It wouldn’t mean much to a lot, but to him it was like poetry. Without the rhyming. “Thank you,” he nearly whispered. Staring at you in awe, and you smiled back. Reaching a hand out to place on top of his. It made him jump a bit, causing you to retract your hand. “No no-“ he blurted, clearing his throat. Eyes darting around. “I mean, it’s fine, you’re fine, I just don’t get touched often.” He spoke, voice light and faint. Looking up to you with tinted cheeks. You wanted to pull him over to the couch and just hug on him. He was so sweet, so unloved by those who weren’t his brothers and you could tell. Frowning a bit and you placed your hand back onto him. Watching as his expression changed a bit. Softened even more, if that were even possible. He seemed relaxed. You barely knew him and you wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

A few moments passed. The two of you sharing glances and unspoken words. Which was soon interrupted by Echos com link. “Echo, we’re heading back, I hope you’re not getting laid right now.” Fives spoke over, drunken giggles following after. Echos tanned face flushed red. Eyes widening and his eyes darting down. “Kriff, I better get going, thank you so much for the food.” He spoke in a near ramble and you couldn’t help but smile. A small giggle following after. “Of course, you should come see me next time you’re in Corusant.” You added, walking him to the door. Both of you smiling like idiots. “Sure thing, how could I not?” He added and you directed your gaze down at the floor. Smiling a bit more. “I’ll be expecting to see you again, then.” And those words were enough to keep Echo fighting hard during the war. The two of you exchanging good byes. Echo making his way back to 79’s. Hoping Fives didn’t just up and leave him.

———————

[nomazee]

Komorebi (3)

komorebi, p.3

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you're so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you're so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. 

But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that's part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six (final)

(hi!!! heres the third chapter! school has been a bit crazy, i’m still trying to get into the swing of things, so sorry that this chapter took so long!! i’m hoping that once i start getting used to the rhythm of things i’ll figure out a more consistent writing schedule :)

for now, i hope you enjoy this chapter!! <3

also!!! i’m posting this from my ohone so sorry if the formatting is messed up and for not being able to add a cut! once i get back to my laptop i’ll fix it :))

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

With how often you and Hinata chat around him, Tsukishima starts to find the name “Hinata” sounding more and more foreign.

You don’t call your ginger friend “Hinata.” You call him “Shouyo,” the syllables slipping so smoothly and ethereally off your tongue that Tsukishima momentarily remains content with the sound of that name before reverting back to mildly annoyed apathy.

He pauses at that thought. Since when did he start using “ethereal” in anything other than his writing class? Tsukishima clears his throat habitually, adjusts his glasses, and drowns out his inner conflicts with the music blaring through his headphones.

He’s been doing that a lot, and is painfully aware that when it happens, it’s usually because of you.

Tsukishima argues that it’s because you’re just that pesky—that loud in terms of volume and personality and style and habits, but there’s a distance pressure in his lungs that argue otherwise.

He occupies himself with volleyball to run from these things. He never thought much about using the sport as a safe haven, but desperate times call for desperate measures, with “desperate” equaling coming to practice ten minutes late, just when you leave the gym, and ignoring the look of concern that Yamaguchi and his upperclassmen send him.

It’s a worthwhile tactic until you make the executive decision to walk to the konbini with all the first years. A terrible decision, really, Tsukishima thinks.

The sky is a mix of colors by the time he and his teammates leave the gym, spreading like a pastel oil slick over the landscape of Miyagi. The silhouette of a sprinting girl appears, contrasting boldly against the airy hues and bringing with her a laugh that sounds like a bow being dragged against untuned cello strings.

Tsukishima flinches. Hinata’s— Shouyo’s face brightens with a grin. Tsukishima grimaces.

“Hey—! Shouyo, Tadashi, Tobio, Tsukishima, Hitoka—you guys are all here! That’s great!”

He thinks your repetition of everyone’s name is redundant, but his mind can’t help but cling onto how strange his family name sounds against everyone else’s given names. He thinks “Kei” would be much easier to say, and sound more like tuned strings on your voice. Tsu-ki-shi-ma—that’s four entire syllables, and are clumsy to fit into a sentence smoothly. It’s not like “To-bi-o” or “Shou-yo” or “Ta-da-shi” or “Hi-to-ka.” He’s just Tsu-ki-shi-ma to you.

Tsukishima Kei wonders if he’ll always just be Tsukishima for you.

His bone marrow feels cold at that thought. He doesn’t want a label for this feeling, and forces himself to tune into whatever you and Shouyo are talking about.

“Can I go with you guys? I wanted to pick up a few things anyway. I ran out of snacks at home.”

The first-years agree amiably, save for Tobio who nods wordlessly and, of course, Tsukishima, whose eyes find interest in the worn soles of his shoes.

Everyone else’s feet start moving. He follows suit, listening to Yamaguchi chatter until you fall back in step with them, coming loud with glittery eyes and warm cheeks and painted fingernails.

“Hey!” You greet. Tsukishima doesn’t miss the prolonged glance you send to him when Yamaguchi’s the only one responding, but he maintains his facade as you speak.

“What’re you guys going to buy when we get there?”

That’s a stupid question, Tsukishima thinks. A really stupid question, because who plans in detail what they’re going to get at a convenience store?

Yamaguchi, complacent with your redundant question, responds with an enthusiastic list of things he could afford with what leftover cash he has on him. Tsukishima clenches his jaw, molars grinding roughly against each other and causing a dull pain to rise in his temples. He doesn’t particularly know why a rising feeling of anger is coming up his throat, but he thinks it has something to do with the ring of your laugh and the way you close your eyes when you smile at Yamaguchi.

The word “ethereal” returns to him, and he clears his throat as if it would do anything to clear the persistent descriptor.

“What about you, Tsukishima?”

It’d be so much easier if you just called him Kei.

“Don’t know.” Though the curt response isn’t inherently uncharacteristic of him, Yamaguchi quirks an eyebrow at the lack of instigation in the blonde’s tone. There’s no sarcasm, no bite, no hostile lilt of his voice that’s usually present when he talks to anyone (minus his upperclassmen––he at least has some sense of respect when it comes to them).

You exhale deeply through your nose, and a swift glance at your expression lets Tsukishima know of your returning dejection at his monotone answers. You seem to find a new drive, though, spontaneously jerking back up and smiling at him with as much enthusiasm as you could muster.

“By the way, about the scarf––” He’s nauseous now. He hopes you can take the hint and stop talking about the scarf. He doesn’t want to think about how it's been folded neatly on your chair for the past week and how every time he looks at it he thinks of you and it’s getting on his nerves.

“––You have to handwash it. In a basin with cold or lukewarm water and detergent. If you put it in the washing machine, it’ll probably fall apart. And you have to let it lay out and dry by itself.”

Tsukishima thinks that if he tries opening his mouth and retorting some how, he’ll puke all over your lace-knit cardigan (which he thinks you knitted yourself judging by the awkwardly spaced stitches along the sleeves and the way the cuffs lay unevenly on your wrists) and he’d rather not face that public humiliation.

He settles for a curt nod and a flit of his eyes towards his laces, once again, and he tries to ignore how your eyes seem to trail on the way his hands grip his backpack strap just a little bit tighter.

You turn to Yamaguchi, give a light smile and a nod, and speed up your steps to fall in line with Kageyama, Hinata, and Yachi again.

Yamaguchi’s eyes linger on his best friend, which Tsukishima pointedly ignores. A heavy sigh escapes the shorter boy's lips as he gives off an exhausted smile and a shake of his head.

“Oh, Tsukishima.”

“Shut up.”

“Gotcha.”

Tsukishima is embarrassed. Humiliated, even. He didn’t even need to puke on your cardigan to feel this way. You just needed to exist, and he needed to keep being his stupid, apathetic, sarcastic self and hurt your feelings in order to make his stomach swirl and lungs tighten.

Tsukishima Kei is in deep. He knows that. He doesn’t want to say it out loud for everyone to hear, but by the knowing look that Yamaguchi keeps sending him, he’s been obvious enough about it to get someone as close as him to notice.

[pastelsandpining]

The Greatest Gift (Freebie)

The twelfth and FINAL prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​!! Thank you so much for all the support! Happy Holidays!

Prompt List

Words: 2917

Summary: Very fluffy. Link pops the question. Proposal fic. Can’t get any better than that folks

BotW Post Calamity Zelink

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist 

There were many words that could describe how it felt to have Zelda back by his side. He could call it wonderful, magical, amazing--just about every word in the book. None could fit better, however, than natural. Natural was how it felt when she’d appeared before him, glowing in a gold far richer than the ores beneath the surface could ever produce. Natural was how it felt when she smiled at him, striking his heart with an arrow of warmth he’d forgotten how to know. Natural was how it felt when he hugged her, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. And natural was how it felt to love her, like he’d done it a thousand times over and would do it a thousand times more. 

It felt natural to celebrate every little thing with her, whether it be her new haircut, or a holiday, or an advancement in the reconstruction of Hyrule. It felt natural to follow her back into the heart of the kingdom, where he would spend the rest of his days as her knight attendant because the thought of not being with her made him feel empty. Everything he did with her, even if it meant to just exist within her presence, felt so incredibly familiar and natural, and perhaps that was why they fell into a rhythm so quickly.

Perhaps that was why most nights, Link only fell asleep after Zelda did. He liked to see her curled up underneath the covers, tucked into his arms, with the peaceful expression of a sleeping goddess visible in the silver moonlight. Perhaps that was why he found every reason to accompany her wherever she went, so that he could see the way she lit up and smiled when things were working out. Perhaps that was why he took his job so seriously, even now, simply because he liked to be around her. 

Admittedly, it’d be problematic if he didn’t like to be around the very princess he was courting. That would never be an issue though, even in times like these, when she was trying to use him as a test subject for her new, trial-and-error elixirs.

“You know I trust you with my life,” he said, holding her wrists as gently as ever. “But I’m not putting that in my body.”

“I promise you’ll be okay,” she replied with a pout that almost swayed him. But Link stood his ground and shook his head, chuckling softly at her antics.

“You’re ridiculous, Zel.”

“I know what I’m doing, Link. I wouldn’t willingly feed you something that could harm you.”

“Uh huh. And what’s the elixir supposed to do?”

“Well, if all goes according to plan--which it should, it would boost the natural defense of a person against any sort of attack or condition.”

“You’re brilliant, but I’ll still have to pass.”

Zelda huffed, then uncapped the vial and brought it to her lips. Link was quick to snatch it from her hands and cap it again, shaking his head.

“Nope,” he said, “We’re not doing that either.”

“Then how are we supposed to know whether or not it’s effective?” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’ll find you a volunteer,” he replied, which she knew was code for I’ll be your test subject later, and it was enough to satisfy her into smiling. “Can I make our dinner now?”

“It’s all yours, sir knight,” she answered, handing the slate over and lifting her hands up in defense. 

“Thank you, Princess.”

It was far from the first time he called her that, and it was a proper title anyone could use. But Zelda still smiled with a pink on her cheeks, and Link could do nothing but watch her. Watch the way crinkles formed by her eyes when she smiled, and the way her freckles became more prominent in the sun, and the way her golden hair bounced when she moved, and the way she furrowed her eyebrows whenever she was confused.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. She ducked her head and laughed, and he smiled in return.

“So you’ve said, many times,” Zelda replied, giving his arm a gentle shove.

“And I’ll keep saying it until the end of time. You’re divine, ethereal, gor-“

He was fairly certain the kiss was solely to stop him from talking, but he was happy to return it nevertheless. 

She tasted sweet, like the berries they’d eaten for a snack earlier in the afternoon, and if sunlight had a taste, he imagined it would also taste like her.

“If you don’t get to cooking, I’ll take the Slate back,” Zelda warned with a poke to his chest. 

“Alright, alright,” he replied with a laugh. He truly enjoyed cooking, but not even that could keep his mind off of the girl besides him, who was busy scribbling away in a journal. His thoughts always drifted to her. Her, and his love for her, and just how much they’d survived together. 

And without thinking about it—well, it’d been on his mind, but he didn’t think before speaking:

“Would you ever want to get married?”

“Yes,” Zelda replied, too quickly and too casually for him to think she’d really heard him. He looked over to her with furrowed eyebrows, but she was staring right back with wide eyes, like she couldn’t believe it either. It took Link a minute to find his voice. 

“Are you serious?” he asked in a voice just barely above a whisper.

“Are you?” she asked.

“Yes,” Link said with a nod, reaching for one of her hands. “Of course I am.”

“I— you do mean us, right? You would want to marry me?” 

“Yes. Without hesitation.”

“Is this..?” 

Link shook his head quickly.

“No! I mean, no, I just— I kind of want to.. plan something..? I mean, the princess of Hyrule deserves a grand proposal.”

Zelda’s cheeks were as red as a rose. He could imagine he looked very similar, with the way his heart was racing. 

“You better not,” she said with a smile. 

But he did. He spent the next few weeks planning a perfect proposal. It didn’t have to be a surprise, but he did want it to be special. Zelda was special, in so many different ways. She was so very special to him, and he wanted to convey that, but he was stumped. 

Link didn’t want to put her on the spot in front of their friends or a crowd of any sort. He didn’t want to pressure her with grand gestures or gifts, but what else could he do? 

He’d written and scratched out so many ideas. 

Should he bring her to the Sanctum and make it the place of a happy memory instead of what it had become? Should he take her on vacation to Hateno and ask in the privacy and comfort of his house? Should he be clever about it and slip the ring into a book, or a journal, or on a guardian piece? Should he have a friend help him?

He tried asking said friends on their opinions, but he had pretty limited options. Riju was a child, and she’d take pleasure in sending him straight to a Voe and You class that he did not want to participate in. Yunobo didn’t seem like the type to talk to anyone, much less do something as outgoing as propose. It didn’t feel right to ask Sidon, even if he would give good advice. His best bet was Teba and Kass, or any of the families he’d come to know in Hateno. 

Kass had suggested a song, but Link didn’t think he had a musical bone in his body outside of an appreciation for it. It would be a decent last resort, if anything. 

So the days came and went, and he remained clueless, but the ring, carefully crafted in Gerudo Desert with diamonds and sapphires and emeralds, stayed in his pockets. Just in case.

“Could you pass the sugar?” asked Zelda from beside him. Hylia’s Day had come around again and three years after their first celebration full of friends, they were spending the day in solitude. He was trying, key word, trying to help her bake a fruit cake. The kitchen staff were hesitant to let them, but he managed to convince them.

Link used it as an excuse to hug her from behind and place the sugar in front of her.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, but turned her head to kiss his cheek anyway. 

“Careful not to use too much,” he warned, giving her a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be too sweet.”

“If I can put up with you, then I think I can handle a little ‘too sweet’.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

Zelda snorted and dumped the measured sugar into the bowl. Link hid his grin in her shoulder. He loved the way she laughed, and the way her nose scrunched up when she did. 

“There. Now I can stir them all together, right?” she asked. 

“Clever girl,” he replied with a kiss into her shoulder. She threw some flour into his hair, and he shook it off all over her shirt.

“Oh, you just wait until this is in the oven.”

“Is that a threat, my princess?”

“Absolutely.”

Though she didn’t need help pouring the cake batter, Link set his hands over hers and did it anyway. It was nothing more than an excuse to touch her, but she clearly didn’t mind. 

“See? You’re a professional,” he said as he took the trays and slid them into the oven. She’d burned herself once, years ago, and he never let her touch it since. 

“I can give up the crown and turn the castle into a bakery instead,” she replied, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. He shut the oven and set his hands on either side of her, trapping her where she stood.

“We could be Hyrule’s most successful sweet shop. Specialty is fruit cake, made by and for the former princess herself.”

“Maybe we’ll just run a side business.”

“Ah, Princess and army general by day, bakers by night.”

“Exactly.”

Link laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Zelda brought her flour covered hands up and stuck them onto his cheeks. 

“Why do you insist on starting a food fight with me?” he asked with a sigh, before sticking his hand in flour and dragging a finger down her nose, leaving her with a flour streak of her own. 

“You’re cute when you’re covered in flour,” she replied before ducking out from under his arms and darting away from him. When he turned to grab her again, she tossed a handful of flour in his face. “See?”

“Princess of Hyrule, Daughter of Hylia, spends her day assaulting her escort with flour,” he said with a huff, then turned back to the counter to scoop up some flour of his own.

“Are you seriously pouting over it?” she asked. Now that she’d moved closer, he spun around and dropped the handful onto her head.

“You know me better than that,” he replied with a grin. Zelda let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream, and Link took the opportunity to make a mad dash across the kitchen and out of her reach.

Maybe they should’ve cleaned up the ingredients when they were done, because Zelda grabbed an egg and chucked it in his general direction. He ducked, then darted to one side of the table. She took the other and mirrored every move he made with a grin of her own.

“Your aim is getting better,” he teased, nodding towards the splatter of egg on the wall. “But I will again offer training-“

“If you hadn’t ducked, it would’ve hit you!” she defended.

“A lovely Hylia’s Day gift that would’ve been. Egged by my princess.”

“I think it’s fitting!”

“I got you an empty kitchen and a day to try whatever you want, and you egg me!” 

“Because you’re an egghead!”

“Unbelievable. She’s the Daughter of Wisdom and the best she can come up with is egghead.”

Zelda sputtered a response, then made a break for him. Instead of running in the opposite direction, like any sensible person, Link jumped clean over the table and waved with a smile.

“Ugh! Show off.”

“I could teach you,” he offered.

“I’m perfectly capable of jumping over a table on my own!”

“Prove it.”

Zelda glared at him, but it was filled with a playful love that made it hard to stop smiling. She pulled herself up onto the table with all the grace of a goddess blood princess, then scooted across it to meet him.

“Very impressive,” he teased, grabbing her by the waist to pull her close. She only rolled her eyes and stuck her fingers into his hair, effectively spreading more flour. 

“High praise coming from you,” she said. Link only hummed and tilted his head to meet her in a quick kiss. 

“Come on, let’s clean up a bit,” he replied as he scooped her up off of the table in a bridal hold, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Yeah, we probably should.” But she’d tilted her head up and was pressing kisses along his neck.

“Are you trying to distract me?” he asked, glancing towards her with a lifted eyebrow.

“Now why would I do that?” 

The warmth of her breath tickled his neck and, well, it was certainly working. He almost wanted to forget about cleaning their mess and instead give his full attention to Zelda, but his foot hit a pile of flour on the floor.

The wind was knocked out of him immediately upon impact with the floor, but no harm had come to Zelda, and that’s what mattered. He tried to laugh through the pain.

“Are you okay?!” she asked as she scrambled off of him and helped him sit up. He nodded, but she checked him over anyway. Only when he could breathe again did she relax, then burst into a fit of giggles. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m being bullied by the love of my life,” Link said with a hint of exasperation as he dropped onto his back. Zelda leaned over him with a smile as soft as a cloud. 

“Am I really?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair again.

“Of course,” he replied with a smile, lifting a hand to rest on her cheek. “You’re my sunshine.”

Zelda scoffed and shook her head, but Link took her free hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. Even covered in flour, she was absolutely divine. And she looked so happy that his heart could burst. He decided there was no moment he loved her more than when she was smiling at him, with a warmth in her eyes and a sweetness in her smile that was reserved only for him. He loved her most when she was happy. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face and the words from his mouth.

“I love you,” he said as he sat up, cupping her face with both hands. “So much. You are everything to me and I want to do all I can to make you happy, for the rest of our lives.”

“Link,” she replied, her voice choked full of emotion. 

“I want to marry you, Zelda.”

Even though they’d had this discussion before, there were tears building in her eyes. She looked like she didn’t know what to say, so Link took the opportunity to dig into his pocket and pull out the velvet box. And right there, on the floor of the castle kitchen, covered in flour, Link opened the lid and revealed the ring. Zelda burst into tears and, goddesses, when she nodded, he let out a watery laugh. She tackled him backwards, burying her face in his shoulder, and he hugged her close.

“I love you,” Zelda said, and repeated it probably a hundred times over. 

“I love you,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Can we have fruitcake at our wedding?” she asked in a wobbly voice. Link laughed again and if he could hold her closer, he would’ve. 

“We can have whatever you want.”

And a few hours later, when the future queen and Hyrule’s army general stepped out of the (now clean) kitchen covered in flour, hand in hand and glowing with a happiness that suggested they’d seen Hylia herself, no one questioned it. But their engagement was no secret, because the ring on their princess’s finger had the castle staff whispering excitedly to one another mere minutes after the couple was gone. 

That very night, as Link watched Zelda fall asleep in his arms, he could swear he felt King Rhoam smiling down on them, and he thought he could hear Urbosa’s laughter echoing on the wind. 

They would celebrate tomorrow, he decided. For now, he would be grateful for how their solitary Hylia’s Day had gone. 

He must’ve been the luckiest man in the entire world. 

“I’ll take care of her,” Link whispered into the night air, a quiet promise to all those who cared about her. She didn’t need his protection, but goddesses, she’s all he could’ve ever wanted. 

To have the pleasure of falling in love with her over and over again, perhaps that was the greatest gift of all.

[supernaturalwritingbunker]

Dinner Date with the Winchesters-Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean does something with Y/N’s food that Sam never noticed before. 

Warnings: Fluff and Language

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Words: 1528

Tag List: @elskinner45​ @you-a-southpaw-doll​ @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes​

A/N: A prompt gave me inspiration for this! I hope you all enjoy!! To be tagged in More Dean One Shots, message me, submit an ask or comment!!

It’s only been a few years since I met the Winchester brothers. There was a ghost in my home and they quickly got rid of it. Finding out who it was, they salted and burned the bones. After that, I was too afraid to stay in the house any longer. Dean, after a private talk with Sam, invited me to go on the road with them. They agreed with me when I said I just wanted to hang at the motels, saying that would be for the best.

I can go through all the books and John’s journal helping them, but I will not actually go out and hunt with them. I didn’t want to get hurt and the boys didn’t want me hurt either. It wasn’t until about a year in when Dean officially asked me to be his girlfriend. We’d slept in motel rooms together and screwed around quite frequently, but we were never official. 

I of course said yes and we’ve been together for the last two years. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Dean tried to say I deserved the white picket fence and a huge house but all I want is him. I love traveling around with the Winchesters. I may have to stitch them up and ‘flirt’ with other guys to get money but I wouldn’t change it for anything. These guys are my home. 

I sit down on mine and Dean’s bed waiting for them to return. The three of us, me, Dean, and Sam, had to share a room this time since they only had a double room left. Grabbing the remote from the side table, I turn on the TV to see Dr. Sexy MD playing. I playfully roll my eyes, knowing Dean had to have the TV on before they left earlier. 

The door opens and in walks the brothers with two bags, the delicious smell wafting over from them, making my stomach growl. I smile widely.

“Hello, dear Winchesters! How did it go?” I stand up, giggling.

“You were right. We needed to check the office one more time. We found a picture of the girl and was finally able to shank her.” Dean smiles. 

I smirk. “Y/N is always right. When will you learn that?” 

He playfully rolls his eyes. “I’m so sorry, my dear. Whatever would I do without your amazing ‘always being right’ skills?”

Sarcasm drips from his mouth as he speaks. I playfully smack his arm and giggle. 

“Shush, Dean.”

He cracks up laughing and kisses my head. I grab three plates and hand them to Dean. He takes them over to the beds while I grab a couple of beers from the fridge. Dean grabs my burger and puts it on my plate before opening the wrapper. I see Sam watch his older brother with a raised eyebrow. Dean takes the top off my burger and grabs my onions before putting them on his plate. 

He then takes the pickles off his own burger and places them on top of my burger. After he does that, he gently places the bun back on my burger, so as not to squish it, before taking a large bite of his own.

“Wait...Do you always do that?” Sam asks as I sit down next to Dean.

I hand Sam his beer before speaking, glancing at him, curiously.

“Always do what, Sammy?” I take a sip of my own beer and put it on the side table.

“Does he always take off your onions? And give you his pickles?” Sam opens his salad box. 

“Usually, yeah.” Dean nods, before taking another bite. “It’s like an unspoken agreement between us. My pickles for her onions.”

“Since when?” Sam glances at us, curiosity and amusement written on his face.

“Well...on our first date, they didn’t take the onions off my burger.” I take a small bite before I continue. “Then Dean found out my favorite part of burgers is the pickles so he gave me his.”

Sam nods, chuckling quietly, before he opens his mouth and starts talking again.

“I’ve never noticed that before.” 

“It’s not like we announced it to you, Sammy.” Dean chuckles, sipping his beer.

“I think it’s kinda of cute.” Sam smiles.

“Shit. We’re gonna have to stop doing it. I don’t need anymore Rom-Com comments.” Dean teases, winking at me.

“But then who will eat my onions?” I pout.

“I will.” Sam smirks over at his brother.

“Oh hell nah. I got it.” Dean quickly says, looking at Sam. “My girlfriend...My onions.”

“Hopefully, she won’t be your girlfriend for long.” Sam mumbles around his fork.

“What was that?” I look at Sam.

“Nothing!” Both boys call out before turning back to the TV.

I shake my head. Winchester brothers always hiding shit from me. 

“Dean Henry Winchester! If you want to break up with me, you had best let me know now!” I say, turning my head to look at him.

He quickly shakes his head, almost fast enough to give himself whiplash. Swallowing the bite of burger in his mouth, he chases it with a swig of his beer before looking at me.

“No. No. It’s nothing like that, baby. I promise. I don’t want to break up with you. Sammy’s just jealous I’m the one with the smoking hot girlfriend and not him.”

I push my lips out and hum. “Mhmm, sureee!”

“I’m serious, babe! I…” He cuts himself off when he sees me smirking. “You are evil, doll.”

I giggle and shrug. “You’ve learned to live with it.”

***

A week later, Dean and I are in the middle of researching a case when Sam walks in with a bag from the burger place down the street. He puts the bag down and goes through it. I don’t look up as I put my hand out toward him. He lays a wrapped burger in my hand and I mumble a ‘thank you’ as I read the article on my laptop.

I finish the article, not wanting to lose my place, before opening my burger and I take the top off to get the onion when I gasp loudly. My burger has extra pickles and no onions.

“What?” Dean looks overs at me. 

“Samuel William Winchester! What did you do?” I glance up at him.

“I…” He starts.

Dean opens his own burger and takes the bun off. His eyes snap up at Sam.

“You...you fucked this up.” He shakes his head.

His burger must have the extra onions on it and no pickles too.

“No? I got you what you usually eat.” Sam pauses. “Right?”

“No, Sam. It’s our thing to switch the ingredients. It’s different if you just order it this way.” I sigh and put my bun back on.

“What’s the difference?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“It’s our thing. A routine. I take her onion, she takes my pickles. It would be like if you...if, for two years, you ordered your salad the same way, taking out pieces to eat later or eat it a different way.” Dean starts.

“Like how I eat steak salads but put the steak to the side to dip in the ranch later…” I cut in for a second. 

“Yeah, then it would be like if someone ordered her steak salad but no steak.” Dean explains. 

“And, while we may not like to actually bite into the onions and pickles, the taste of them is still on the burger, and that’s what makes it taste just right.”

Sam bites his lip and nods. “I understand now. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. Just...Don’t do it again.” Dean smirks before taking a bite out of his burger. “Nope. Not the same.” 

I giggle slightly and nod as I chew through my own burger. “It’s not, but it’ll have to do. I’m starving.”

“I’ll know what to do for next time.” Sam sits down with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam.” I smile as I eat. “We’ll let it go this time.”

He chuckles and nods. “Thanks, guys.”

I glance over at Dean and shake my head. He chuckles. I can’t let it go. It’s not the same at all. I hold my hand out for his burger. He looks confused for a moment, but hands it over. Giggling, I lay our burgers side by side, and lift the top buns off each. Taking some of the pickles from my burger, and some of the onions from Dean’s, I switch them for a moment. 

I ignore the brothers as they both watch me do my thing. I put the top buns back on our burgers, and hand Dean’s his. He chuckles, seemingly understanding what I’m doing, and a moment later, we do our ritual. He hands me the pickles I’d put on his burger and I hand him the onions I’d put on mine. 

We both take a bite of our burgers at the same time and smile at each other before we start chewing.

“Perfect.” Dean says, not caring about the mouth full of burger he has.

[bbaronpiper]

Darkness

Hi guys! here’s another story I wrote for you. This one’s a bit personal. My demons are stronger than me tonight soooo. yeah. I didn’t go into details but I dunno maybe it may trigger yours a bit too. so please be cautious and don’t continue reading if you feel it may trigger you. love you all! Night! I’m off to bed <3

I hope I lived up to your expectation anon. Also sorry to the lovely anon who requested fluff. I promise I’ll write yours after this. <3 

i already know its gonna break my heart but can u write a fic with either 23 or 35 from the angst prompt list? thanks so much ❤️

23.”How do I make you love me again?”

35.” Can I have one last kiss?”

not my GIF. Credits to @anderaron​

Aron Piper x Reader

Your life is a fucking routine and you’re getting tired of it. Every day you wake up, go to your 9 am to 5 pm job, pass by the grocery or fast food chain for your dinner, go back to your apartment, eat, watch TV then go to bed, wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Every. Damn. Single. Day.  You never felt genuine happiness and you’re convinced you probably never will. Yes, you smile and you laugh but you always had this darkness in you which goes a long way back in your childhood days. It’s a feeling of emptiness.

Until he came along. Yet you never considered him as your knight in shinning armor. You hated the thought that women needed men to save them. No, women are built strong, they can save themselves and besides you’re not sure if you want to be saved. However, you can’t deny the fact that Arón spiced up your life. He brought different kind of positive feeling without even trying and for a moment, you forgot about this certain darkness of yours. You bury it deep inside you as an unfamiliar, pleasant feeling emerged.

You met him in a photoshoot as you were working in a production house but this was way before his career took off, before Elite. The “simpler times” as he used to say.

“You wanna go for a drive?” he asked you smiling.

“as long as I’m driving” you stick out your tongue at him. He never let you drive not because his car is expensive as shit but because you are a reckless driver.

“How about no?” he said almost laughing and put his arms around you as you both walk to his car. “I Have a few on my bucket list that I haven’t crossed yet” he winked

You just laughed at him and pinch him on the arm earning a low “oww” from him. You love watching him drive though. The way his arm muscles flex a little every time he shifted gears. His short glances from the road to you as you sit beside him. The way he put his arm behind your seat when he’s backing up. Damn. That shit turns you on more than he knows.

You both found yourselves at Cerro del Tio Pio Park. Both of you love going up here enjoying the nice quiet time it provides not to mention the beautiful view of the city lights. Arón may have loved this place a bit more than anyone. He always come here every time the noise in his head gets too loud for him, get some steam off or just enjoy the sunset with you.

you felt his hand rest on your thigh. you looked at him and saw he had a small smile playing on his lips while looking forward, straight at the sun as it sinks down.  You then place your hand on top of his.

“Arón”

“Hmm?” he answered still looking at the sky.

“Te quiero.” you said simply. Blush slowly creeping in on your cheeks. He looked at you and grins. “I think I love you moooorrrreee than you love me” you played trying to get a little something from him.

“Nahhh. That’s not possible. Yo te quiero mas.” (I love you more) and with that he leaned in to give you a kiss.

His kisses are passionate most of the time. so passionate that you always get lost in it as you feel yourself melt. Your hand traveled up to his neck just behind his ears, deepening the kiss. This goes on for a few minutes before you both pulled back gasping for air. You see him smiling at you hinting at something. You rolled your eyes, laughed and nodded yes knowing he’s asking you to make love with him. He then got out of the car and went to your side.  Imagine having sex in a two- seater car. Damn right.

“Uhh. It’s tight in here” he said not knowing how to position himself.

“yeah I heard that before. Just last night, I think?” you laughed relieving the words he said while he pounds into you the night before.

“whatever, Y/N. you know you loved it too” biting his lips as you see his growing bulge. He sat on the passenger seat lifting his ass up a little to help you get off of his pants and he did the same to you. you positioned yourself on his lap, your legs draped on either side of him and kiss him. His hands traveled down your pussy and played with your clit, rubbing circles making you moan in his mouth.

“Gotta wet you first bebe” he said in between kisses. You didn’t respond as the pleasure took over you. “you like that huh?”

“hmm” again, no words just moans.

“words Y/N” he demanded as he pushed two fingers inside you. you moan in pleasure at the sudden feeling. “Y-yes” you stammered. You buried your face deep into his neck as he moves his finger faster and curled it. he pulled out completely after a few pumps making you groan at the loss of touch. You decided to play him again and started to rub your pussy against his length a few times. Earning a low moan from him“You like that baby?” you said mimicking his words earlier. You then positioned yourself on his tip. As you were about sink down on him, you stopped and got only a few inch of him in. “words, Arón” you said close to his ears. He just grunts in return growing impatient and put his hands on your waist and slammed you down into him. You screamed his name so loud you think you startled the birds on the tree.  “Si, I liked that” he teased you.

He lets you adjust for a few seconds. Your nails dug into his forearms as you feel him stretching you out. Damn, he’s huge. You slowly rise up and sink down again slowly. Moaning his name while doing so. Repeating this until you had the urge to go faster.  You looked at Arón as he watched his dick disappear and appear inside your pussy. You cupped his face making him look at you while you moan his name. he smashed his lips into yours silencing you while his hand grabbed your left ass cheek and the other went down on your clit again rubbing it fast. “Cum for me Y/N” he then licked your nipple, sucking and biting it lightly and soon enough you felt your pussy clench around him “Oh, fuck.. fucckkk.. fuck.. Arón!!” and cum on his dick. He slammed into you a few more times before letting himself go. You both collapsed on the seat catching your breath. His arm automatically went to your waist holding you tightly and the other at the back of your neck. Your foreheads pressed together savoring the moment.

But this was almost a year ago. If you only knew then what you know now, you would’ve hold on to him a bit longer that night.

You lied on your bed watching him sleep, your hand placed on his chest caressing it slowly with your thumb. Contemplating on how you’re supposed to tell him. Tell him that the darkness within you resurfaced and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were not sure if it was because of your busy schedules, the months being away from each other, his constantly partying leaving you alone in bed or it’s just that there’s really something wrong going on with you. Nevertheless, it’s back. You felt it once again: The emptiness, you thought was long gone.

“Good morning princesa” his husky voice broke you out of your thoughts. You just smiled at him in return. A smile that didn’t reach your eyes and he knew right there and then that there’s something wrong. He turned to face you completely. Lifting your chin up. “A penny for your thoughts?”

You opened your mouth just to close it again. Not knowing where to start. Arón knows you had issues like this and he always understand and helped you with it just as you do to him. Your chin starts to quiver but you’re trying your best not to shed a tear. When Arón noticed, this is when he start to be more alert and awake.

“C’mon baby, you can tell me. I’m here” scooting closer to you.

“we need to break up” you said quickly, avoiding eye contact.

“What’s that baby? try that again but slower.”

“Arón” your voice starts to tremble. “I think we should break up”

He looked at you with what seems like forever not saying a single word. It took him a lot of strength to sit up on his side of the bed, with this back turned on you, rubbing his hands on his face like he always do when he’s frustrated. You then sat up on the bed too resting your back on the head board. Afraid of how’s he gonna react.

“No” his voice muffled as his hands are still on his face.

“Arón-” he cut you off

“I said no” his voice stern still had his back turned on you.

You knew he loves you. and you love him. With everything you have. But you didn’t wanna drag him down with you nor ask him to save you from this. So you had to lie, you know it’ll break him but it's for the best.

“I don’t love you anymore” looking down on the sheets. Your fingers fidgeting.

He instantly turned his head to you. “Que?” his face has a mixed look of shocked and pain. “Don’t say that baby. Tell me you’re lying Y/N”

“No, Arón. I’m sorry but it’s the truth” you heart breaks at every word. The look on his face killed you. you wanted to take it back but you know the damage has been done.

“How? Why? When? What the fuck Y/N?” questions after questions after questions. He just kept on throwing them at you and you couldn’t comprehend. Everything went into slow motion and you couldn’t hear a word he says, you’re too focused on the pained expression on his face. Your Arón. You broke him. You couldn’t give him answers. you just sat there looking at him with tears streaming down your face.

“Y’N!!!” he screamed, frustrated. You were startled and afraid. “answer me! ” You’ve never seen him like this.

“I’m sorry, it has to be this way.” You stood up from the bed. Went to your shared cabinet and starts to load your clothes on your luggage. Your tears are now streaming down your face like a waterfall. You couldn’t stop it but you tried your best not to make a sound which made it difficult to breath. He can’t see you like this. He would see through you and your plan wouldn’t work. You’ll just fall back into his arms again in one snap. He sat there on the bed as his leg bounced up and down, looking at you as you packed your things. Unable to grasp the reality.

He then stood up and walked out the room probably to smoke. You continued to pack your things pacing from the bathroom to the bedroom gathering your things. your heart was pounding in your chest you can almost hear it. You know you had to do this quickly as you felt that you’re about to breakdown. You were zipping your luggage when he walked back in the room. You slowly stood up and turn to face him only to see him inches away from you. his eyes red and his cheeks are flushed.

“How do I make you love me again?” he whispered while he searched for your eyes hoping for a slight chance he has with you. His hands went to touch both of your forearms with his thumb caressing your skin. Desparation evident in his eyes.

A stab in the heart. That’s what it felt like when you heard his words. But you believe you’re doing this for him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat “You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Arón” his looked down as he shut his eyes tightly. Not the answer he wanted to hear but he knows there’s nothing he can do to change your mind now. He lost you.

“Can I have a one last kiss?” you can feel the pain in his voice and all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and tell him you’re sorry. That you change your mind and that you love him dearly. But unfortunately, the darkness in you won. Again.

You closed the gap between you, cupped his face and kiss him with every passion and love you have in your body and he did the same to you. You can feel his hiccups from crying but he continued to kiss you, never wanting it to end.  You both pulled away but he refused to let go. so he place another quick kiss on your lips and said. “I have never loved anyone this much in my life but if this is what you really want, I’ll give it to you. I love you too damn much.”

You wept. You cried in his arms as he did to you. you were standing in the room holding onto each other for the last time and you never felt this kind of sadness in 3 years you’ve been together. But again, you had to. you pulled away pushing his chest lightly.

“Thank you for everything Arón. Te quiero but this is for the best.” You sniffled and wipe your tears. trying to limit the words you say because you had to get out as soon as possible and drown yourself in your own tears. You then grabbed your luggage and begun to walk away when you heard him say…

“Maybe for you Y/N, but not for me”

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 41

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.6k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: hope the smut isnt too much lol! oh and, couldnt find the gif i wanted but this one will do. this chapter was fun to write and i dont think it was a filler chapter lol! only a few chapters left, im super nervous! at the same time, this story is getting less and less popular sooo idk, maybe its time? idk. if you read and comment and like and reblog, I LOVE YOU!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : posting them at the bottom because of spoilers!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 41 : His chapter

NIALL

May 15th, 2018

I was so close to ask her to marry me when we were in Spain. I kept looking at her ring finger, imagining what the ring I had bought would look on her hand, and telling myself that now that we were official, anything was possible, and I wanted it. I wanted the impossible, I wanted everything. The words "marry me" almost escaped my lips exactly 11 times and even now, I was wondering how I actually stopped myself from just doing it.

We were back in California for a few days and I had convinced her to spend her time in my house instead to go back to hers. Most likely, Louis was there with Eleanor or he was spending all his time at her place. Either way, I thought we were better at my house but I knew that eventually, she'd want to see Louis and get back in her stuff anyway.

I woke up and blinked a few times as the sun peeked through the curtains but not enough to light the room. It was dark but I could see clearly and when I turned around, I realized she was laying on her back, completely naked, and the covers were only hiding one of he legs. She was still asleep, her hair messy around her head, and I couldn't help but reach for my cock as my eyes roamed on her. I got on my knees gently, making sure I wouldn't make the mattress move too much, and let one of my hands run on her breasts while I grabbed my dick with the other, stroking it slowly. I rubbed my thumb on one of her nipples until it got hard and finally, I let my fingertips brush down her body to reach between her legs, her skin so soft against mine. Slowly, I moved one of her knees before letting two of my fingers run on her slit. The more I was touching her, the harder I was getting and I moved closer to her on my knees just to rub the tip of my cock on her nipple.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered before she moved lightly in her sleep, letting out a low whimper.

I stopped moving and waited until she did too to continue touching her, my heart skipping a beat. The sensation was incredible and it made me want to rub my dick all over her body. I turned my body slightly and reached for her lips with my dick this time, feeling myself get even hornier when she licked her lips. It brushed on the tip of my cock and I let out a low groan as my eyes fluttered. I knew the whole thing was turning me on more than it should and all I could think about was getting between her legs and pushing my cock deep inside her.

Instead, I reached for her pussy again, rubbing one of my fingers gently on her clit as I felt her get wetter. Her body jerked a bit and she moaned low again before I let out an other curse word and slipped two fingers inside her, moving them in and out of her extremely slowly. I could hear how wet she was and I felt my cock throb in my hand. I was so turned on by her that I could barely believe I was doing that but she was so gorgeous, laying there completely naked in my white sheets, and the way she made me hard was just un-fucking-believable. I finally moved between her legs very slowly only to rub the tip of my dick on her clit. It slid easily due to how wet she was from me fingering her and this time, she let out a louder moan as one of her legs twitched. I jerked off harder between her legs as I pushed my thumb inside of her and rubbed her clit harder with one of my fingers until I was closer to an orgasm and without thinking, I took my hand away and pushed the tip of my cock inside her. Her walls pressed around it and I knew she was waking up. I took my cock out as I felt an orgasm reach me, cumming a bit inside of her before spurting on her pussy.

"Holy fuck."

I let out a moan as I watched her pussy get covered with my cum and when I looked up, her lips were parted and she was staring at me.

"Did you just cum all over me?" she asked in a low tone, her eyebrows raised.

"I.. did. I'm sorry."

Her eyes fell on my still hard cock as I shook it slightly and she bit her bottom lip before spreading her legs apart more and reaching for her pussy. I looked at her fingers gather some of my cum and slide it down until her clit. She let out a louder whimper as she started rubbing herself with the vestige of my orgasm and I couldn't help but let out an other curse word.

"You should have woken me up." she pointed, her voice a mix of a whimper and a whisper.

"I know petal but you looked so vulnerable and hot just laying there, naked and asleep." I admitted, my eyes never leaving her fingers as she flicked them on her clit. "Fuck, you love rubbing your clit with my sperm?"

I didn't know if it was my words or just the fact that she was touching herself but she let out an other moan and her back arched suddenly. I brought one of my hands closer and once again pushed two of my fingers inside her as she kept touching herself and squirming on the bed.

"I want to watch you cum, darling."

It only took her about half a minute before she started shaking and when my named escaped her lips, I could swear I got dizzy and my vision got blurred for a few seconds.

"Oh fuck, Niall!"

Something stirred in my stomach and I just stared at her as she came, grinding on my fingers and squirming even more. When she came down from her high and relaxed on the mattress, I took my fingers out and slowly lied down over her. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were still parted as she panted. I brushed my mouth against hers and she whimpered as I felt my whole body vibrate.

"You did so well, petal. That was so fucking hot."

She brought her hands to my head, slipping her fingers in my hair, before kissing me deeply. I tilted my head slightly, tasting her as she whimpered in my mouth. I swallowed her moans and when i pulled away to look in her eyes, she sighed low.

"I don't want to go to work today." she admitted, raising her nose up and making an amused smile appear on my lips.

"You have to."

"I could call in sick?" she asked, her eyebrows raised and her face full of hope.

I laughed and shook my head, making her groan immediately. "Nope, you have to go. I'll go with you, how's that?"

"Better than nothing I guess."

I chuckled and got up, searching through my stuff to find clean clothes and when I glanced at her, my lips curled again.

"Stop staring at me and get ready. I'll make coffee and we can leave." The alarm on her phone started ringing as soon as I finished my sentence and I raised my eyebrows. "See? You have to wake up. Take a shower, I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

I heard her groan and turned around when I heard a sound only to realize she had tried throwing a pillow at me but had failed miserably. I laughed and shook my head but turned back around and reached the kitchen.

We ate toasts quickly as we walked to the car and remained silent the whole ride until we were there. We should both have gotten out of the car, I knew it, but instead, we remained sitting there, looking in front of us, and I kept wondering how we should act together. We were never the type to show too much affection in public. It happened before with friends around, or family sometimes, but not when random strangers could see. This time, we were with a lot of strangers and I was wondering if I should hold her hand or not. Should I kiss her temple sometimes? Or just go straight for the mouth? I didn't know anymore and if I wanted to be frank, I had never asked myself that question in any other relationships before.

"Ready?"

"No."

I frowned and turned to her but it took her a few seconds to look back at me. She sighed and shrugged before shaking her head a bit.

"Things have been particularly awkward with Dylan even since Heidi posted all those lyrics about us on instagram." she admitted, closing her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again. "We're filming the season's finale today and, I don't know, I'm nervous I guess."

"Anything special about the final episode?"

She stared at me, her eyes roaming on my face, and her lips parted. "His character is breaking up with my character."

We looked at each other in silence and after a while, I reached for her hand on her thigh and squeezed her fingers tight. I knew why it made her feel like this and I knew it was not only because of her relationship with Dylan being awkward. This scene was our scene. It was that day I broke up with her and tore her heart in pieces. I held my breath, feeling suddenly extremely exposed. I had no really realized before how big this was. Of course, I knew her tv show was inspired by our story but it just hit me that people were actually watching it, and I was wondering how many of them now knew almost exactly what had happened between us?

"I'm here with you. It'll go amazingly, trust me." I pointed out, knowing it was not the right time to have a big discussion about her writing. "Remember in Italy? I almost believed you were breaking up with me to go marry your ex boyfriend."

She chuckled a bit. "You totally believed it."

"Maybe I did." I quickly replied. "But only for a few minutes, because I believe in us, I believe in our love, and I believe in you. So you go in there and play that scene and show them how incredible you are."

Her lips curled a bit and she rolled her eyes before finally nodding. I smiled more and we got out of the car to walk in. I thought I'd see Dylan first but when my eyes met Heidi's, I felt my heart jump up in my throat, almost throwing it up. I felt Olivia tense next to me and I held my breath when she saw us. She sent us a big smile but I could read so much pettiness behind it that it made me grimace.

"Hi!"

I glanced at Olivia who frowned and licked her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh you didn't know?" Heidi replied, her eyebrows raised and her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I'm with Dylan now."

As if on cue, he appeared and stood next to Heidi but I noticed his eyes never left my girlfriend and it bothered me more than I wanted to admit. Of course, I couldn't expect him to just forget about her, after all, he was ready to marry her, but at the same time I wanted him to move on as quickly as he could. If that was to be done with Heidi then be it : i was ready to put up with her on the set.

"I hope it doesn't bother you too much." Heidi added, tilting her head and looking at Liv who sent her a smile back.

Dylan and I were just keeping quiet, not really sure what we were supposed to say or do, and I pushed both my hands in my pockets.

"Oh no, not at all. It's all good." Olivia replied with a shrug. "I mean, it's not the first time you run after one of my exes, you know? Oh! Maybe I could make you a list of all the men and women I dated? Would save you some time."

I almost choked on my own spit, not really expecting that reply. I knew what kind of person my girlfriend was but she had always played it low with Heidi because she knew it was not worth it. It seemed like this time, she had had enough.

I thought Heidi would answer something rude but instead, her facial expression changed into a surprised one and finally, her eyes got smaller. She was pissed, I knew it, but she'd never prove it to Olivia. She found her smile back and breathed in, wrapping her arm around Dylan's and looking up at him.

"Can you show me the set?"

He nodded and they left but he glanced back at us when he was farther and I finally sighed, turning to my girlfriend who was smiling. I thought she'd be a bit mad, or upset that her ex boyfriend was now with my ex girlfriend, but she didn't seem to care... until her smile fell down and she closed her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong suddenly?" I asked with a frown, taking a step closer and wrapping my fingers around her arm.

"I just realized Heidi was going to be there for the finale." she admitted, looking up at me. "She'll... see all of it. She'll see how it went... between... us."

It was the very first time Olivia admitted that her tv show was about us and I licked my lips, feeling something stir in my stomach. I didn't care that Heidi saw it, but I cared that the whole world would.

"You shouldn't care about her. She's with Dylan just to get to you or get back at us. She's here to piss you off and make you feel like shit. Don't let it get to you. Don't let her win."

She turned her whole body my way and her lips curled slightly into a fond smile. Slowly, she got on her tiptoe and pressed her lips gently against mine. It took me by surprise but I just answered her kiss and when she got back down on her feet, she tilted her head.

"Liv, can I ask you something?" I asked seriously, licking my lips as she nodded, her smile faltering a bit. "I know your tv show is based on our story but... for the next season, could you change that?"

I was scared to hurt her but at the same time, it was something I just needed to ask. If she said she didn't want to, I would accept it, but she knew my private life was a big deal for me and when she started nibbling on her bottom lip, I knew she felt guilty. I could read it on her face.

"I'm sorry, Niall. I never thought people would connect the show with our story but that was stupid of me. I mean, when I wrote that, I thought I'd never see you again, so I sort of wrote to... let it all out, you know?" she stopped and sighed. "Of course I'll make it different. I'll think of a whole other story for the characters, and make sure it has nothing in common with our story. Except maybe... well, the fact that they're soulmates."

I smiled and nodded, chuckling slightly. "I don't know if they are, but I know we are."

                                                 ----

I wandered around the studio while they were filming, and finally ended up at the cafeteria to grab a bite. I sat alone and started checking messages I got on my phone when I felt a presence in front of me and looked up. I was not surprised to see Heidi but I was not pleased either.

"Niall, we need to talk."

I blinked a few times and licked my lips, not really in the mood to discuss with her, but I finally just sighed and put my phone down as she sat down. I noticed she was holding a sheet in her hands and it made me frown. I didn't have time to ask her about it, she simply leaned against the table to move closer to me and instinctively, I moved my upper body away from hers.

"You know you could have just called me." she let out, confusing me and making me frown. "I know you miss me, and honestly I think we should get back together. I forgive you, I know you were a bit lost and..." she shook her head and I was even more puzzled. "It doesn't matter."

I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts back into place but I just licked my lips again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She put the sheet on the table and pushed it closer to me. It took me half a second to realize it was my handwriting and after reading only a few words, I knew it was which song of mine.

"Wait, where did you find that? I thought I lost it!"

The song was not finished but as my eyes roamed on the lyrics, I had a bunch of ideas on how to actually complete it and I held my breath.

"I found it in my boxes... the ones from your place that you've had sent to my place." she explained, reaching out to put her fingers on top of my hand.

I stopped moving completely and my eyes dropped to our hands. I felt frozen in place, a bit startled by her behavior and not really knowing how to react.

"What are you doing?" I just asked, my eyes still staring at her fingers brushing gently against my hand.

"You're right. We should get back together, Niall." she added. "I mean, I know you're trying to make me jealous with her but let's be real. Who could really be jealous of her?"

Quickly, I shook my head and pulled my hand away from hers, mad that she would talk shit about my girlfriend again. "Do you even listen to yourself? You know damn well I'm with Liv and.. aren't you with Dylan? I love her, okay! I'm not trying to make anyone jealous, I'm just trying to love her the way she deserves to be loved... the way I failed to love her the first time. And you have nothing to do with any of this. What even makes you think I want to be with you?" I was frowning, getting pissed at her behavior, and I started wondering why I ever wanted to be with her in first place.

"Because of that song! You wrote it for me and put it in one of my boxes for me to find!"

I rolled my eyes, angry that she could even think I wrote one song about her.

"I wrote this about Olivia! I wrote that in the first week I saw her again at the bakery after not seeing her for over a year. It isn't about you, Heidi. It got in one of your boxes by mistake!" I explained a bit rudely, looking in her eyes to make sure she understood. "I love Olivia, not you. You need to let it go, okay? And those instagram posts you make.. For fuck's sake, Heidi! What's the point? Make me feel bad? Alright, I'm sorry I cheated on you, I should have broken up with you before and that was a mistake, okay? Now please, leave me the fuck alone."

Without giving her time to answer, I got up and left her by herself at the table before hiding in Liv's dressing room. I searched for a pen, my heart racing as I feared I'd forget the words dancing around in my head, and finally found one before leaning against the counter. I started scribbling fast, almost dropping the pen a few times as I held my breath. I scratched the first line and quickly replaced it to 'Maybe we are the champagne lovers' and went to the chorus to add a few lines, too.

'So come on love me when the lights burn low Meet me underneath the sheets Cause you got a hold of me baby, enough to pull me back in deep You used to love me when the lights burned low Now we’re tearing at the seams We've both had enough of this, baby, so promise me that when you leave You won’t say you’ll come back to me.'

I stared at the words and re-read them a few times before licking my lips. I was still lost in my thoughts when the door opened and I jumped a little, turning to see my girlfriend walking in. I sent her a fond smile and moved up from the counter as she wrapped her arms around me. I held her close, the paper burning on my fingertips, and kissed the top of her head.

I couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics and remembered exactly how I felt when I wrote most of the song. I missed her and I missed what we had. I didn't like where we were and I couldn't believe she was marrying someone else. The parts about sheets I had added reminded me of when we would hide under the covers and we had done it quite often in the past few weeks, making the whole meaning even more powerful.

"How did it go?"

"Not bad for now." she admitted, moving away. "But I think we'll film the rest an other day. It took longer than it was supposed to."

"Good, then maybe Heidi won't be there when you film the final scene." I suggested, raising my eyebrows.

"Hopefully." she replied with a smile before frowning. "What's that?"

My traits softened and I brought the sheet up again to read the lyrics. "A song. For you."

"Can I hear it?" she asked making me look up. Her eyebrows were raised and she was biting her bottom lip. She was so endearing that I almost said yes.

"Soon, okay?. I need a piano for this one."

                                                       ----

May 19th, 2018

Olivia actually slept a good part of the day and I ended up at the pub with Julia, who was back to California too since her tour was over. I had an other first part for the other half of the tour and I knew I was going to miss her dearly. It was not like me to be super emotional, but with time, Julia easily became one of my closest friends and traveling with her had been a blast. I couldn't pretend that the fact that she listened to me complain about my love life didn't help us to become closer but it would be a lie.

"Where's your girlfriend today? I wanted to see her." I felt my lips curl more as I looked at her and she frowned. "What?"

"Oh no it's just... hearing someone else call her my 'girlfriend' is very cool." I pointed out with a chuckle, scratching the back of my head, feeling a bit embarrassed. I couldn't believe I had said that.

"That's what she is now, right?" Julia asked with a small laugh. "That's what you've wanted for months. You've been complaining about it every single day!"

"What? Come on, don't exaggerate." I argued, raising my nose up.

"I'm not!" she laughed again before getting a bit more serious. "I'm very happy for you, Niall. Now it's time to move forward, you know?"

"Meaning?" I raised my eyebrows after taking a long sip of beer.

"Meaning... plan the future and don't fuck up."

I stared at her and nodded with a small smile. I knew she was right, and she was not the only one who told me to not fuck it all up this time. I really didn't intend to, and I knew I wouldn't. I had lost Olivia before, and I had learned from that. I was not going to lose her again.

I was a bit tipsy when I got back home but she didn't even notice me. I stared at her, wearing only one of my t-shirts and a pair of black panties, standing in front of the tv in the living room as old songs from the 90's played full volume in the background. I was pretty sure I recognized a Backstreet Boys song ending and just as I thought it couldn't be funnier, a Spice Girls song followed and she started dancing and singing very loudly. I started laughing but she didn't hear me because of how loud the music was and it made me happy to know I could watch her a few more minutes. She jumped on the couch and pretended to have a microphone as she sang the lyrics and tried to do the dance and when she just started dancing around my living room, I took a few steps closer and she jumped, putting one of her hands on her chest as if it would help slow down the beatings of her heart.

"Fuck, you scared me!" she let out with a chuckle after pausing the music.

I didn't say anything. I just stared at her with a fond smile, thinking of everything we went through and how much I loved her.

"Move in." I let out as she was taking a sip of wine.

She frowned and chuckled again. "What?"

"Move in with me. Here."

Her lips parted and her eyebrows raised before she let out the air from her lungs quickly from her mouth in a surprised way. She licked her lips and cleared her throat before putting her glass back on the coffee table and taking a step closer.

"Are you... sure you can handle that?"

I knew she was referring to the fact that we were different, but it didn't matter. Yea, she was messy and yea it was annoying, but it was such a small problem and I knew we could compromise. In fact, I knew we'd both be way happier if we lived together and I wanted it. I wanted it so bad I could feel it in my bones.

"Yes." I let out in a low tone. "I want your grumpy face in the morning. I want your way too sweet morning coffee... I-I want your mess all over my fucking house, Olivia. I want to smell you when I step foot here after a long work day. I want to start a life with you. I want you to have your own dressers, not just a few drawers in mine. I want to share everything I have with you. I want to share myself with you."

She pressed her lips together and swallowed and I could swear she was tearing up.

"I want all that, too." she admitted, tilting her head. "I want to spend my life with you, Niall."

My lips curled in a big smile. "Then let's take that step. Move in with me."

It took her about a minute but she finally just chuckled and shook her head. "Okay. Let's do this."

REQUESTS

(i changed the first one just a little bit hope its ok!)

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 2

Title: Hurt, Healing, Help Pairing: Paz x OFC, OFC x OMC Word Count: ~2350 Rating: MA Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Chapters::Ch 1 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

📚 My Master List 📚 

Notes: This chapter contains potentially triggering material. Warnings for: mentions of past child abuse, past violence, and a lot of cursing. No graphic details, just a passing mention of certain situations that have occurred. The flashback occurs ~ten years before the story is currently happening.

Also, your nickname is Shu'shika. It means tiny disaster. I've been trying to format the HTML for this update on AO3 for two hours now, I don't think I can handle any more of the text popups right now. Also posted on AO3, where you can hover over the stuff in Mandoa or unfamiliar terms to see translations and notes. 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes and translations. Also let me know if you want to be tagged or something. @mandalorerose I am so sorry, pls don’t goor me from the server.)

[flashback]

The bright sunlight fills the clearing, bringing a touch of warmth to the smoky, frosty morning air. High up in the trees, the birds flit from branch to branch, watching the proceedings with unabashed curiosity. Occasionally, tiny creatures fight amongst themselves, scolding each other with a flurry of chirps.

Grinning, Paz sidesteps Neten’s blow easily, clamping down on his bracer tightly. Using the other man’s momentum, Paz latches onto Neten’s extended arm and pulls hard, causing him to lose his balance. Once he stumbles forward, Paz gives him a good shove, sending him careening forward into the soft grassy earth. A low ‘ooh’ goes up from the crowd as Neten trips and slams into the ground with a heavy thud. Paz nods, holding back, giving Neten enough time to recollect himself.

“Nice form, good strength,” Paz says, to encourage the younger man. “Let’s go through it one more time. Then we’ll break for water.”

“Sounds good, alor'ad,” Neten says.

“Swing at me,” Paz orders. “And I’ll show you the best way to…”

He trails off when he receives notification that his door alarm has been disabled. His brow furrows as he considers it for a few moments. Neten falters.

“Uh, you still with us, alor'ad?” Neten asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Paz said. “Swing at me.”

Paz recently upgraded the locking mechanism to keep the kids out of his candy stash. He does not mind sharing, but when six kilos of candy disappear in one week, he has to put his foot down. That, or the other parents would strangle him. Paz shakes away the feeling of unease and catches Neten’s fist in his. Grasping firmly, he halts Neten’s attack, freezing him in place.

“You’re trying to build up momentum from too far away. See how this leaves you open while you're swinging? Get in a bit closer,” Paz says, showing Neten how his previous attack left him vulnerable with a solid blow to the gut. “Stick a bit closer and – “

The door chime goes off again. Then it disables itself a second time. Zeli said she would be busy helping in the kitchen today. Paz frowns.

“Uh, right. When I push you forward, roll into the fall,” Paz says. “It’ll give you some space to work. Now, try it again.”

Neten swings a third time. Paz pushes him harder this time. Instead of falling, Neten curls his body forward and rolls into the fall. He comes up on his feet, but quickly loses his balance. He falls over.

“Shit,” Neten sighs.

“Just takes practice,” Paz says. “Get up, you’ll get it right.”

After walking him through the proper counter a few times, Neten finally manages to roll directly onto his feet and absorb the momentum with his knees. Then Paz turns to the crowd.

“Partner up,” he says. “Neten, you partner up with Fen.”

As he assigns partners, he chooses to place the most advanced fighters with the novices to ensure they teach the others. Paz finds he still cannot shake that weird feeling in his gut. Something nags at him until he decides to go investigate.

“Revala,” he says. “Keep an eye on these idiots for a minute?”

“Sure thing alor'ad,” she says, coming forward. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…I just need to check on something,” he says. “No more than a few minutes. If they give you any backtalk, you have my full permission to make them run until they drop.”

“Yes, sir,” Revala exclaims gleefully as she turns back to their drilling vod, “Alright, losers, I’m in charge, and I’m going to make you suffer.”

“Gaa’tayl, alor'ad!” someone yelps.

Rousing laughter fills the clearing at the plea for help.

“K’atini!” Paz snaps over his shoulder. Wimps.

He turns toward the entrance to the hideout. Their current home is situated deep in a granite canyon. It was at one point some sort of pirate bolt hole, but over the decades, other Mandalorians had come and gone, making the space larger and adding some basic furniture. It is cramped, but it is well-hidden and easy to defend. Not only that, the family quarters have separate showers, a perk he does not hesitate to abuse. He makes his way down the main hallway, avoiding the fistfight between Din and Terys.

“If you two are going to slap each other like whiny little aruetiise, do it outside,” Paz snaps.

“He ate my uj’ayali,” Din snaps in response. “I was saving that, you dickhead – “

“I didn’t eat your fucking uj’ayali,” Terys grunts as he elbows Din in the side.

Paz shakes his head and continues toward the living quarters. Winding through the hallways, he finds himself surrounded by a throng of scuffling children. He breaks it up with a firm growl and sends the guilty parties to time-out. At long last, he comes to his door. As his hand hovers over the pad, he feels that sense of dread worsen, like a block of lead has suddenly materialized in his belly.

Paz almost hesitates, but he pushes forward. Something isn’t right here. He types in the code and watches as the door silently unlatches and swings open. He steps into the living area, his feet heavy and uncooperative. That feeling in his gut warns him to stay silent.

When he sees Zeli’s boots on the floor, he frowns.

He sees the second pair, hidden just out of sight, at the same time he hears Zeli’s cry. Paz inhales sharply and turns toward the bedroom, thinking that someone is actively forcing themselves on his beloved.

“Yes, Liam!” she cries out, stopping him in his tracks.

Paz can only stare, his stomach roiling violently at the sight of the two figures entwined under the light sheets. For several seconds, he stands there, frozen. Taking in the sights and sounds of their lascivious coupling. The wet slap of sweaty flesh meeting and Zeli’s throaty, animalistic keening. The way her short pink nails dig into Liam’s shoulders. The way he fervently fucks into Zeli, repeating what Paz had done with her just hours before.

“Oh, gods, Liam! Harder, h-harder!” she sobs, her sinewy body arching under his.

“Ni copaani hailir gar,” he pants. “Gedet’ye, cyare."

From here, he can see her digging her heels into his backside. The raised red welts she has left along his spine and shoulders. The livid bite marks along her shoulders.

As the harsh, unpleasant shock starts to set in, he feels his lips and face go numb, a deafening roar filling his ears. His chest tightens as he tries to tear himself away from the lurid scene, only for his gaze to land on the couch.

They had placed their helmets on the seat - her cherry-red helmet next to his deep grey helmet, the forehead ridges pressed together in a sweet kiss. As if to mock him. Paz turns his stinging eyes to the low table. The pieces of their armor are arranged neatly on the table. It is clear to him that the lovers had taken turns stripping each other, piece by piece.

This is not an act of drunken, frenzied passion.

This is a deliberate act of practiced intimacy.

In the years Paz and Zeli have been a couple, building their future together, she has not once asked him to use blindfolds. She has never once asked to break down that one last barrier keeping them from tasting each other’s lips for the first time. Yet here she is, fucking one of their closest friends in his bed. All while stringing him along with the promise that they will be one, that they will remove their helmets for each other for the first time on their wedding night.

How many times has Zeli allowed him to debauch her in their bed? In the same bed where Paz professed his love for her for the first time? The same haven where they spent countless hours in each other’s sweat-slick arms, fantasizing about the warriors they would eventually gift the tribe? How many times has he run his fingers along her breasts and inadvertently dragged his fingers through the dried remnants of another man’s sweat and saliva?

Revolting nausea fills him, that numb feeling creeping through his entire body, leaving him feeling so empty and cold. As his hands begin to shake, he clenches them into fists at his sides, his breath coming in shuddering pants as he struggles to not fucking sob. Bile rises in his esophagus, leaving his throat feeling bloody and raw.

Why?

Why?

The question keeps chasing itself through his thoughts as the agonizing knot in his chest threatens to tear him apart. He hears a giggle from the bed as Zeli flips Liam onto his back, the sheets shifting to reveal the delectable curve of her lower half, plump and succulent as she starts to bounce on his cock.

“Come in me, cyare,” she purrs to him.

“A-are you sure? You’re not - not - contraceptive – “

“Paz won’t know,” Zeli laughs. “He’s desperate for kids.”

Those words are the catalyst for his rage, like a lit match dropped into a barrel of volatile jet fuel.

Incandescent rage unfurls explosively in his chest, evaporating the cold sorrow that had once filled him in an instant. He feels his blood pressure and heart rate spike, leaving his vision thin and black and pulsating at the edges. Paz takes one menacing step toward the doorway, his entire body trembling as he struggles to contain the inner maelstrom of hatred.

It would be so, so easy for him to make them suffer, to make them feel the bone-deep agony they have inflicted on him. All he has to do is step into the bedroom. Look at their faces. Break the blood-oath of secrecy they had sworn to uphold a second time. By seeing their faces, he is a witness to their identities, and they will not be given the option to marry.

With just a few more steps, he can destroy them; he can take away everything and everyone they have ever loved. He can make Zeli’s worst nightmare a reality – she will lose her father, her sisters, and her friends. She will have only her lover by her side. Liam will be declared dar’buir by proxy. They will both be exiled in their dishonor and shame.

Suddenly, he sees Zephyr’s gap-toothed, mischief-filled grin and he comes to a grinding halt.

Zephyr was broken when Liam had found him huddled in the burnt-out husk of his ancestral home. Raiders had tortured his family and forced him to watch as they were killed, one by one. After they had taken their amusement, they had beaten Zephyr, leaving the young boy to die alone in the wastes. It was only by pure fortune that Liam had seen the smoke and gone to investigate, thinking it was his prey.

Instead, he had found a mute six-year-old boy wrapped in a ragged, blood-stained blanket, his tiny, emaciated frame covered in a multitude of bruises and lacerations. It took three years of love from the Tribe for the boy to speak again. After those first words, Zephyr had risen from the ashes of his shell, soaring like the celestial starbird.

Zephyr had finally found his voice and his manda, bringing life and light back into his eyes.

His gut wrenches and a new type of agony lances through his heart. It pierces him, wounding him so deeply he physically cannot breathe. He bites down hard on the sides of his tongue to stifle the sob threatening to escape his throat. His teeth break skin and the taste of copper fills his mouth. Paz cannot do it. He cannot be the reason Zephyr has to relive the loss of his family.

He will not be the reason the light leaves Zephyr’s eyes again. No amount of agony inflicted upon him - a grown man - could ever justify harming an innocent child for the sake of revenge.

Paz forces himself to exhale. Blinking, the tears finally fall, burning their way down his cheeks before finally soaking into his beard. Stiffly, he makes his way back to the couch and picks up their helmets, taking Zeli’s in his left and Liam’s in his right.

Acrid bitterness fills the shattered remains of his heart as he looks down at Zeli’s helmet. The paint on the forehead ridge has worn away from the many passionate kisses they have shared. Cynically, he wonders how much of that paint was worn away by Liam. How many embraces have they shared behind his back? How many times have they bared their fucking souls to one another in his bed?

Paz turns back to the door and exits, leaving the couple to their tryst. As the door clicks shut behind him, he suddenly feels intense exhaustion, his armor suddenly becoming stifling and heavy. Each breath feels like tar in his lungs as he leans heavily against the wall opposite the door.

“Hey, Paz,” Din says, coming toward him. “Bad news. Your idiots outside managed to set something on fire – “

Seemingly sensing something wrong, Din comes to a halt an arm span away. He leans forward slightly, coming to his side, in a show of brotherly concern.

“Ori’vod,” Din says softly. “Are you okay?” Paz draws in a great, gasping breath, his gaze still fixed on the door.

“Not in the least bit, vod,” he admits hoarsely, his voice breaking.

Din looks down at the helmets in his hands and comes to the only logical conclusion. He hisses through his teeth.

“I will drag them to the Foundry like the worthless fucking hut’uun they are,” Din hisses, his fingers flexing as he takes a step toward the door.

“No,” Paz says immediately, shaking his head.

“Why the fuck not?” Din demands sharply, his voice rising to an angry roar. “They betrayed the Oath, Paz!”

“Din, keep your voice down,” Paz says, ushering him away from the door and toward the Foundry. “I know what they did.”

“He called you his brother,” Din snaps angrily. “She called you her intended. They are liars, they broke their Oaths - !”

“Zephyr,” Paz says, his voice cracking again. “I don’t want to risk…”

The rage leaves his brother in an instant. He deflates like a wilted desert orchid. Din sighs gustily, looking between him and the door.

“What can I do to help, vod?” Din asks quietly.

“Just keep people away from me for a while,” Paz utters. “Armorer…she will know what to do.”

Gods, he prays she knows what to do.

“Absolutely,” Din says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll always be here, ori’vod.”

Paz swallows thickly and nods, not trusting himself to speak. When he has regained control over his legs, he starts the long walk to the Forge. Each step feels like he is scaling some sheer cliff, the air thin and frosty in his lungs. Din runs interference, keeping the people trying to get his attention at bay. Pausing, he closes his eyes and considers what he is about to do.

Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc.

He knows what the right thing to do is. Paz just does not know if he can do it.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself questioning his faith.

-

-

-

[current]

Armorer is in the middle of brewing a pot of her favorite tea when she hears footsteps in the Foundry. She looks up and sees Paz poking his head around the main doorway. That simple gesture brings back many memories of their earlier years together. Armorer has left the door to her private quarters open, the curtain drawn back, inviting those in need of guidance into her home.

She reaches for a second cup just as he reaches to knock on the door frame. Even though they’ve been family for nearly three decades, he still insists on knocking.

“Paz, join me,” she says.

He steps inside, ducking his head in a polite, respectful greeting.

She turns back to the chipped tea pot. Their new Tribe introduced them to the concept of tea, and now, she indulges every afternoon. Paz joins her and pulls a metal straw out from his gauntlet.

“What brings you here, Paz?” she asks, as the scent of the hot, spiced tea permeates the air. 

He stares down at the cup, tension filling his massive frame.

“I wanted to ask your advice on something,” he says in a serious tone.

She remains silent, her brow furrowing.

“I’ve taken an interest in a woman,” he says. “And I want to ask her to be my partner. I want to know more about proper courtship traditions.”

It is only through years of experience and training that she does not jerk in surprise. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She is somehow surprised and not surprised at the same time. He has gotten to that age where a hunter starts staying at home for longer periods of time to teach their skills to the next generation. Although he is also bound to be lonely, she cannot recall him mentioning a partner.

She knows her friend, and she knows he will not entertain the idea of a serious relationship without the promise of marriage. After what the aruetiise had done to him, he had thrown himself into the hunt, turning his back to the possibility of marriage. Or anything long-term, really. The wounds were so deep she did not think he would ever fully heal.

He – like the rest of their kind – has been shaped from birth by hardship and struggle. He has had to fight for the victory of every single sunrise. Despite the crushing setbacks in his personal life, Paz has held his head high, always teetering on the edge of fully reaching mandokar - the ideal virtues of a Mandalorian warrior. It is that lost lust for life that has held him back all these years.

Now, he is ready to move forward, to hunger for each moment and experience in his life. Throughout the years, Armorer has seen glimpses of the warrior he could become. He is on that path now. Her heart fills to the point of overflowing for him.

She nods once.

“You know of our Tribe’s tradition of exchanging blades before the vows are spoken,” Armorer says.

Paz nods.

“What about here?”

“Alor Dezha has remarked that the Elders prefer to publicly acknowledge that the vows have been exchanged before the wedding night physically occurs. They typically do this as part of the wedding feast. Ultimately, it is your decision. You may choose one, both, or neither. As you know, we make do with with what we have. We do not have rigid rules in place.”

“That’s less complicated than I thought it would be,” he responds. “Nevertheless, I want to do this the right way for her. I think I’d like to do both.”

She is truly pleased with the news. If he is interested in entering the riduurok there is a chance he is also interested in rearing offspring. He will make an excellent spouse, parent, and teacher.

The youngest child here is eight years old. In just a few years, he will be fitted for his armor, and he will no longer be a child. Armorer and many others have expressed the desire to hear more little feet in the hallways. Hopefully, Paz will continue doing what he does best – inspiring and encouraging others through his leadership and his unwavering dedication to the Resol’nare.

Perhaps the other Hunters will begin reconsidering their unwed statuses so they may finally begin to increase their numbers once more.

Paz fidgets with his cup for a moment, breaking her from her reverie.

Now, she must satisfy her curiosity.

“Who has caught your attention?” the Armorer asks, keeping her tone casual and light, even as her thoughts whirl with plans for the feast and bonfire celebration.

Her thoughts then leap to naming ceremonies, but she restrains herself. They will need time to settle in as a married couple before producing or finding children.

“I want Shu’shika."

Armorer blinks in response.

“Shu’shika has caught your attention,” she confirms, carefully keeping her voice neutral, to give herself time to think of an appropriate response.

“Yes. How do we go about this courtship business, then?"

How unorthodox. Yet, as she considers it, she can see why he wants you. Paz has always appreciated the company of those who put the Tribe before themselves, and you are no exception. If a hunter or child has need, you will forego sleep to ensure they are properly cared for. Nothing will keep you from caring for those around you. Your dedication and loyalty to the Tribe will never be contested. With extra training, Armorer can see you shaping up into a halfway decent warrior in time.

“What exactly do you wish to know, Paz?” she asks curiously.

“How?”

Armorer blinks, though he cannot see it. She had not been ambiguous.

“What do you mean how?”

“How do I convince her to agree to courtship?” he clarifies, giving her what she interprets as an expectant look.

A furrow forms between her brows as she stares at her companion. Based on the rampant, unbridled scuttlebutt, there is no shortage of available and willing partners for a hunter of his stature and skill. She herself had once harbored an attraction to him, though that had been roughly two decades ago when she was just a feral, hormone-riddled teenager with far more free time than common sense.

“Most people start by asking their interest out on a date,” Armorer says slowly.

“A date,” he repeats.

Armorer almost sighs. Perhaps she had overestimated Paz’s general intelligence level.

“A date is an activity wherein two individuals assess their mutual compatibility and – “

“Armorer, I know what a date is. What does that even have to do with courtship?”

"Courtship is dating, Paz, but with the intent to marry, and no carnal relations."

"Oh. That makes sense. And how do I get her to agree to this?"

“How do you normally secure your partners?” she asks bluntly.

Paz recoils ever so slightly.

“I have only had a handful of one-time arrangements…since…”

Well. That is unexpected.

“Paz, you must simply ask,” she responds. “You are one of our best hunters. There are many who are interested in having you as a partner. I am certain she will be flattered by your request.”

“…but how? I haven’t asked anyone out on a date in eighteen years,” Paz says. “I honestly don’t know what people do on dates nowadays.”

“Just ask her to accompany you on an outing,” she responds.

“So, like…shooting? Do people even still go shooting on the first date?”

“Just pick something you know she enjoys,” Armorer says, faintly annoyed.

“Alright, I can do that,” he says. “One more question, Armorer.”

“What is it?” she asks.

Despite her affection for the older man, she is unable to keep the annoyance out of her body language. Maybe the age-old Mandalorian saying still holds true today: three braincells for the entire Tribe and the Alor holds two of them for safekeeping. However, Alor Dezha is a Hunter down to the marrow in his bones...perhaps it would be best to leave the braincells in the possession of a Tradesperson, where they won't risk being eaten.

“You’re a woman, aren't you? So, tell me: what do you ladies like on dates?”

She is so offended and incredulous that she splutters indignantly at him. As she struggles to come up with a proper retort, she becomes aware of his shoulders shaking.

She tightens her jaw. He always has been able to get under her plating to chafe at her like no one else. If anyone else had grown the balls to ask her something like that, she would not have hesitated to put her hammer through their skull.

“Paz, get the hell out of my room.”

He erupts into boisterous guffaws as he thumps his fist onto the table.

“Would you want chocolates? Flowers? The severed heads of your enemies?” he gets out through his giggles.

“I will goor your ass into the Forge,” she says in amusement, reaching for her hammer in warning.

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he gets up to leave, and hightails it away before she can make good on her threat.

Armorer smiles under her bucket.

She hasn’t heard him laugh like that in a long time.

He will be just fine.

-

-

-

Paz paces nervously around the table for the fifth time, pausing to try and flatten the curling plastic tile underfoot. When that fails, he continues on his path around the table. Paz stops when the door opens. Din strides in, closes the squeaky door behind him, and takes a seat. The chair groans under his weight as he leans back.

“So, what’s got your bucket straps chafing?” he asks.

Paz immediately regrets asking for help. Especially from Din. But, being his brother through both vow and combat, Paz trusts no one else as much as he trusts Din.

“I need some advice,” Paz says carefully.

“What sort of advice?” Din asks, his helmet tilting a bit to the right.

“I want you to swear you won’t tell anyone,” he says firmly.

No one needs to know about his lack of experience.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Din says.

“Swear it,” Paz stresses flatly.

“Alright, alright,” Din says.

“On my honor, I swear I won’t tell anyone about anything we’re about to discuss.”

Paz takes a deep breath as he struggles to come up with the words needed to explain his unique situation. How the fuck is he supposed to even ask about this?

Has Din ever even been on a date before?

Gods above, he is too old for this shit.

“Does this have anything to do with those problems men your age typically get?” Din asks suddenly, breaking the silence. “You know, below the codpiece?”

He gestures down toward his crotch, as if his words were not mortifying enough.

“What?” Paz asks incredulously.

Din holds both hands up as if trying to defend himself.

“Look, Paz, every rifle malfunctions eventually,” Din says in what he might think is a comforting tone. “Especially when a man starts to get into his forties and fifties – “

“No, stop. My di - that part of me is just fine,” Paz snaps in annoyance. “I’m not that old, you little shit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Din says. “So, what is it? You’ve been acting really strangely for the past few weeks.”

Their buir did not raise either of them to be a hut’uun. He can do this, get those words out. He is a grown-ass man and he can be direct. Fuck delicacy. That kind of bantha-shit doesn’t work for Mandalorians, anyway.

“There’s a woman I’ve taken an interest in,” Paz says. “I’d like to give her a proper courtship. I was wondering if you had any input on where I could take her on a date.”

Din doesn’t react. For a moment, Paz wonders if Din even heard him. As the seconds tick by, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead seems to grow louder. Then he hears a choked wheeze from his modulator, one that sounds like someone is strangling a de’kath bird with piano wire. Din’s shoulders shake violently as he starts to howl with laughter.

“You’re – you’re coming to me for advice on dating?” he gasps out, “Me? Din Dumbass Djarin?”

Paz falters at the mention of Cara’s affectionate nickname for Din. He shrugs once in response. Then he sinks down onto the table and crosses his arms.

“Yeah. Half a braincell is better than none, right?”

Din goes silent for several seconds.

“Holy fuck, you’re serious,” Din whispers. “Paz, I can barely keep my shit together. What makes you think I, of all people, would know anything about dating?”

“I haven’t been on a proper date in eighteen years,” Paz says dryly to Din. “I don’t know how this shit works anymore.”

A pregnant silence follows.

“Din, I’m over Zeli. I’ve been over her bantha-shit for a few years now,” Paz says. “I am ready to try something long-term again.”

“Fuck,” Din breathes. “We’ve all been wondering…if you’d…you know.”

“Stop wallowing in my self-pity and move on with my life?” Paz asks sardonically. “The past few years…I have been working on improving myself. Figuring out how to best honor the Resol’nare...All the stuff we were supposed to figure out years ago.”

“Paz, I’m happy to hear that,” Din says. “I’m glad you’re going to be you again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paz says, waving off Din’s comment. Shit, this is getting too emotional for him. “Whatever.”

Din snorts.

“Anyway. As for dating…I mean, there are better people to ask. I really could not help you with the dating thing.”

“Surely you’ve had a partner,” Paz says. “I’ve heard rumors about you and Cara.”

“Cara wants the simple things in life: good beer and to regularly beat someone's ass,” Din says. “I just so happen to be good at both finding good beer and getting my ass beat. When I asked her out, she almost pissed herself laughing at me.”

“Well, she said yes, which is more success than I’ve had,” Paz says. “I don’t know shit about this. The only people who care about courtship are the Elders.”

“And you now, apparently,” Din argues back.

He does have a point.

“Well…she means a lot to me. She isn’t a temporary arrangement,” Paz says carefully. “I’d like to do this the right way for her. So she knows I’m serious. And that I'm not just after...sex.”

Din inhales deeply, tapping his fingers on the table as he stares at the wall.

“Well, buir once told us that women like providers. So, go find a really big marsh deer, kill it, dress it, and bring everything back to her,” Din says, shrugging his shoulders. “Women like meat and leather, right?”

His tone is as uncertain as the way Paz feels about presenting you with a dead animal. They stay silent for several seconds.

“I’m fairly certain buir was joking when he told us that,” Paz says slowly.

“Huh,” Din says. “You know, now that it’s been said out loud…it does sound kind of ridiculous. Shit.”

They stay quiet for several moments, considering how truly fucked they both are when it comes to relationships. They’ve both had the occasional pleasure arrangement. And pleasure arrangements only require interest and about ten minutes. After his dumpster fire of a relationship with Zeli went down in a fiery, messy explosion, Paz never really considered settling down for marriage.

Why is this so damn difficult?

Din sighs, breaking him from his reverie, and tilts his helmet in his direction. It’s a sort of acknowledgement, an understanding that they are both committed to figuring this courtship business out together. Paz supposes that Din’s going to have to learn a few things, too, if he's somehow going to convince Cara to stick around with him for more than a few months. At the very least, Paz is grateful that Din picked someone smarter than himself. At least their children will have one intelligent parent.

“So. Who is it that has you acting all emotional, all ready to get domesticated?” Din asks, waving his hand around a bit.

“Shu’shika,” Paz says. “She’s…she’s the one I’m interested in.”

Din’s head snaps up so hard and fast that Paz hears his vertebrae crack from here.

“What?” Din asks. “Shu’shika?”

“What the fuck is with that tone, Din?” Paz snaps irritably. “If you’re going to insult her – “

“What? No, no,” Din says. “I’m not insulting her, no way. She doesn’t seem like your type, Paz. She’s…uh…not the most athletically gifted. Or the best at...hand-to-hand combat.”

That is the most diplomatic tone he has ever heard from Din and it pisses him the hell off. Paz does not like the idea of someone insulting you.

“She’s perfect the way she is,” Paz says flatly.

Din holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not judging your taste in women,” Din says mildly. “I was just…uh…surprised. I thought you’d go for someone like Nayel, or maybe even Revala.”

“They aren’t Shu’shika,” Paz says, shrugging.

Nayel and Revala are both warriors and hunters, the two of them direct competitors for their age and skill group. Nayel has even made a few passes at him, but her hand against his doesn’t send that little bolt of tingling pleasure radiating up along his spine. She always wants to fight with him. While he appreciates having good sparring partners, he sometimes wants something quieter.

“Well, we are both shit at this,” Din says. “So, we treat this like any other battle to be fought and won. What intel do you have for me?”

Paz starts to list the data, growing more comfortable as he settles into the comforting routine of what he does know how to do. Win a fight. Then again, he isn’t sure if he should be looking at courtship like it’s a battle to be won.

-

-

-

Notes:

Alor'ad - Captain Vod - comrade, mate, brother - different contexts based on the people involved Gaa'tayl - help Aruetiise - outsiders, traitors. When used to refer to an outsider, it's not an insult. It's just a state of being. When used to refer to a Mandalorian, it's an insult. Uj'ayali - Mandalorian cake made from ground nuts, fruit, spices. Delicious. "Ni copaani hailir gar. Gedet'ye, cyare." - "I want to fill you. Please, my love." Cyare - beloved Dar'buir - "Divorce" from a parent, like disowning them. Rare, usually only done if the parent is a shithead. Starbird - Star Wars creature that is basically a phoenix. It's supposedly reborn in the heart of a star, etc. Manda - Soul, that which makes someone Mandalorian hut'uun - coward, an egregious insult Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc. - Family first and the individual second - randomly made this saying up. Mandokar - the virtues of the ideal Mandalorian - aggressiveness, tenacity, loyalty, and a lust for life. Riduurok - love bond between two spouses, marriage Resol'nare - The six tenets by which all Mandalorians abide. Short version: "Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader all help us survive." Alor - leader Goor - Goore --> Grenade --> You toss a grenade --> Therefore goor is the Mando equivalent of yeet. Humor from Tumblr. De'kath bird - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. The bird sounds like a raven, a tuba, and a paper shredder all got together and made an ugly, horrifying baby. Marsh deer - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. A marsh deer is about twice as tall as a giraffe and has huge antlers that can cause serious damage if they ram someone. They are generally herbivorous, but when they are in the middle of rutting season, they become opportunistic carnivores. They also dislike humans and will attack unprovoked. Also, they make for good eating and hunting. OYA! Shu'shika - Nickname I made up using shu'shuk (disaster) and -ika (diminutive), means Tiny Disaster. Because Reader is a tiny disaster.

[mystical-flute]

Home is Wherever I'm With You (ch. 6)

FFN || AO3 || Ko-Fi

“Last chance to back out, bud,” Neal said, glancing over at Henry as he stood near the door of their hotel room. “You’re sure you’re okay with us moving here?”

Henry nodded, grinning. “Positive, Dad! It’ll be a new adventure, like you and Mom always talked about.”

Emma couldn’t help but grin slightly, even if there was a knot in her stomach that threatened to make her scream that they were going back to Boston and to forget this little town. It would have been an adjustment to not having Audrey and Snoopy around, but they could have made it work - right?

But Emma didn’t say anything, only giving Neal a quick peck on the lips. “Be careful, don’t rush yourself getting everything packed.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve already emailed a few friends to help me out,” Neal said, squeezing her hand before ruffling Henry’s hair. “Good luck, listen to your mom, and don’t start complaining about your teacher before you’ve given them a chance, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Henry said with a roll of his eyes.

“I mean it, moving is a big deal. We don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

“Especially in a small town like this,” Emma grumbled, before sighing. “C’mon kid. You’re lucky the superintendent was willing to meet with us on a Sunday.”

She gave Neal another quick kiss before heading out with Henry.

The school complex seemed enormous, although Emma supposed that’s what happened in these small towns - they didn’t have to travel miles from school to school because there weren’t a ton of shops and houses in the way.

She was surprised to see a woman standing at the top step, waiting for them.

“Good morning! You must be Mrs. Cassidy,” she said with a wide smile. “And this must be Henry.”

“Ms. Jackson, right?” Emma said as Henry gave a nervous wave. “Thank you for meeting with us on a Sunday.”

“Please, call me Olivia. And it’s no trouble. It’s not often we get new students enrolled here, so this is really exciting for us!” Olivia opened the door, guiding them inside. “Come right on in and we’ll get you set up. When we’re done with Henry’s schedule and the other paperwork I’ll give you a tour.”

“Sounds great,” Emma hummed, glancing around. It seemed like any other school she’d been in. A little older, even than the Boston schools Henry and Audrey attended, but it was that same sickly-sweet charming that the rest of Storybrooke seemed to have.

Olivia’s office seemed normal though, and Emma felt herself relax slightly as she began rapidly typing on her computer.

“Alright then, Henry. I received your records a few minutes ago from Boston - ”

“That quickly?” Emma interrupted. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect them to be working on a Sunday.”

Olivia shrugged. “When something like this pops up, sometimes the system actually moves like we want it to. Anyway, his records and notes from his teachers indicate he’s a fan of art, is that right?”

Henry nodded. “It’s my favorite class. And I was in a special art camp this summer.”

“That’s wonderful, Henry! I think I have an opening in the perfect class.” A few more clicks of her keyboard, the sound of a printer, and she was sliding a schedule across the desk. “You’ll be in Miss Blanchard’s class. She does lots of art projects during her lessons to help students learn in a unique way.”

“We met her yesterday!” Henry chirped. “She seemed really nice.”

Emma couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief, knowing Henry would be with Mary-Margaret. “She did. She was volunteering at the hospital when we brought Audrey in.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s right, I heard about Audrey’s return. It’s a miracle, really. She’s been gone as long as I can remember…” Olivia trailed off, seemingly lost in thought, before the bright smile returned as she reached into her desk. “So here’s some information on the schools, and a map for Henry in case he needs it. You can find the pieces for the uniform pretty much anywhere, so don’t worry about that. Although, I will need his size for the sweater.”

Henry soured a little at the mention of a uniform.

“He’s a medium,” Emma said.

Olivia nodded, rising to her feet. “I’ll grab one out of storage while we’re on our tour, if you’re ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

“The main menu for lunch rotates every day, and we’re lucky to have a local farmer that donates much of the produce we use,” Olivia explained as they wandered past a display of science fair projects. “Kids are welcome to eat inside or outside, weather permitting, and we have monitors in both areas.”

“That’s cool! We weren’t allowed to eat lunch outside in Boston,” Henry explained.

Emma couldn’t help but raise a brow. “How’d you swing the farmer donating produce to the school?”

“Well, it helps that he’s married to be one of our teachers,” Olivia explained with a laugh. “Daphne teaches high school, so maybe in a few years Henry will be in her class. Or maybe Audrey. I’m going to be taking her schedule and information to the hospital later.”

“I can take it to her, if you want. Henry and I are going to the hospital later this afternoon,” Emma offered.

Olivia hummed, tapping her finger against her cheek. “Well, since you are technically listed as Audrey’s parent on her school records, that will be fine. I’ll get her schedule and information settled when we head back to the office. Do you happen to know what size she wears?”

“Sounds like a plan. And she’s a medium as well.”

“I’ll get her sweater when we grab Henry’s. Miss Blanchard’s room is - oh, it looks like she’s here. That’s strange,” Olivia frowned as they approached the open classroom door. “Mary-Margaret?”

Something thudded to the ground, and there was a startled yelp.

“Superintendent Jackson! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were here too.”

“I’m showing Mrs. Cassidy and her son around… what brings you here?”

“I’ve been looking for my credit card. I tore my apartment apart but it’s nowhere to be found. So I thought I would check here.”

Olivia blinked. “Oh, I see. I’ll run the security tapes and see if anything’s come up. Nothing has been turned in at the Lost and Found, but that doesn’t mean no one has it.”

“Thank you, Olivia. I appreciate it.”

Emma kept a hand on Henry’s shoulder as they lingered in the doorway. “Hi, Mary-Margaret, I don’t know if you remember - ”

Mary-Margaret smiled slightly. “You’re the family from the hospital. What brings you to the schools though?”

“You’re my new teacher,” Henry announced, glancing around the classroom. “Which one is going to be my desk?”

“I’m - sorry?” Mary-Margaret asked, stepping back as Henry pushed further into the room. “His new teacher?”

Emma sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry about that. We’re uh, moving to Storybrooke. He was put in your class.”

“Oh! Well come on in then. I’ll get you caught up on what we’re learning about. Henry, this will be your desk right here,” she said, guiding Henry to a desk near the window. “I’ve been teaching them how to build birdhouses. It helps with building empathy and their math skills.”

“Combining art and math. I wish I had a teacher like you when I was growing up. Maybe I would actually like math,” Emma joked.

Mary-Margaret gave her a weak smile. “Math isn’t my favorite subject either, but just know if Henry finds he’s struggling, the high school has a great tutoring program.”

“You guys sure thought of everything,” Emma remarked.

“Well, we figured it’d be a good way for the older kids to earn a little credit, and help the younger students out. It’s also part of the after-school program.”

Emma smiled. “That all sounds great. It’s really making me feel better that Henry’s still going to get a good education, even if we’re not in Boston.”

“Storybrooke is… like a fairytale, Mrs. Cassidy. We may be small, but we prioritize education,” Olivia explained. “Shall we continue the tour?”

Why did her phrasing sound so odd to Emma? Still, she managed a smile. “Sounds good. C’mon kid.”

They saw the playground, the computer lab, and the library before Olivia led them to a small shop area. “And here we are. Two medium Storybrooke sweaters.” They were presented as if they were made of gold, which had Emma biting back a laugh as she took them. “We’ll just get Audrey’s paperwork all settled and that’ll be it. Unless you had any further questions?”

Emma wracked her brain. “No, I think that’s it. But I’ll contact you if I think of anything.”

“Fantastic,” Olivia said, returning to the office and setting up the same paperwork and schedule for Audrey. “It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Cassidy. We’ll see you tomorrow at 8:30 sharp then, Henry?”

“Yes Miss Jackson.”

Emma guided him out of the office, hearing Olivia answer a phone call as they disappeared down the hall.

“Lacey, what’s up? Yeah I can…”

---

Madalena was going to kill Rumplestiltskin if she ever got out of here.

No. When she got out of here. Because she would get out of here, of course. She was the Dark Queen Madalena after all! She could get out of here on her own… even if she had failed so far and she had no idea exactly how long she had even been trapped in this godforsaken book.

Her Handsome Hero. What a dumb name for a book. What a ridiculous idea for a plot.

If she had to watch Gideon the Great cut a spider in half one more time, she was going to scream.

And she had screamed multiple times already.

The worst part of living in a book was there being no plot for Madalena. The author hadn’t put a Queen Madalena in it, so she was relegated to being in the back of crowd scenes, completely ignored and unable to do anything to end the sieges that plagued this village.

Not that she wanted to be a hero, of course. No, Madalena just wanted to save her own skin and had been caught in the crossfire one too many times.

“Fear not, Duchess Prudence, I, Gideon, shall slay the evil Sorceress!” the hero of the story says, dramatically flourishing his hands.

Madelena rolled her eyes and made a face. Just once, she’d like to be able to turn Gideon or one of the other townspeople into a toad, or a dog, or something. Anything to make this more bearable.

“Madalena?” a voice suddenly said from above. That wasn’t right, and suddenly everything froze. “I don’t recall you being in the story before.”

“Hello?!”

Why could she move? Who was that voice? It was new, didn’t come from any of the stale creatures around her… had someone from the real world finally picked up the book?

“Madalena, I free you from these pages.”

She didn’t have time to think before she felt herself being yanked up, landing hard on a carpeted floor.

“Oh gods, are you okay?” came the same voice, only this time, it was much closer.

Madelena felt the world tilting for a moment, before everything stilled and she lifted her head from the carpet, heaving in deep breaths and staring down at her hands. Free. She was… free? She pushed herself up into a sitting position, feeling the world tilt slightly again as she glanced around the room.

She knew this place. Rumplestiltskin’s library.

She was free.

“Erm… hello?” the voice asked again, and Madelena jumped, glancing over. “Sorry, are you okay?”

That was a loaded question. Was she okay?

“I…” her voice was raspy. “How long… was I in there?”

“I don’t know… you’re Madalena of Keburg, aren’t you?”

Her head shot over to the young woman who had spoken, eyes wide. They still spoke of her? Good. Then it must not have been all that long.

“I am. They deposed me two years ago.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and Madalena’s heart sank. “No… not two years ago. They just celebrated their Decade of Peace.”

Decade? Decade?!

“I’ve been in that book for eight years…” Madalena whispered. “Oh my gods…”

“I’m glad I got you out of there. What happened?”

Madalena rose to her feet, brushing invisible lint off her gown. “That bastard Rumplestiltskin locked me in there. All I wanted to do was learn some dark magic to take control of a kingdom, that’s not too much to ask for, right?”

“Er… I’m probably not the best person to ask about that, but you’re not the only evil queen in the realm.”

“Oh, no, please don’t call me evil, just dark,” Madalena said, raising a brow. “Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Belle. I’m Rumplestiltskin’s housekeeper.”

“May the gods have mercy on you then,” Madalena said, rubbing her head. “Thank you for freeing me, Belle.”

“You should hurry and get out of here. Rumplestiltskin will be home any moment.”

Madalena nodded, raising her hand to disappear, before she paused. “I don’t know where to go. I can’t go back to Keburg, I can’t stay in this kingdom…”

“I think you’ll find allies here if you stay off Rumplestiltskin’s radar. He’s not exactly the most popular man here. Now hurry, go!”

“Thank you again for freeing me, Belle. I’ll make sure to leave you in peace when I come to power,” Madalena said, vanishing in a cloud of black smoke. Where she would go, she didn’t know, but if what Belle said was true, perhaps there was a chance for her to find allies.

Maybe she could take down Rumplestiltskin and take his place.

That might be nice.

She landed in the middle of the woods, on some sort of carriage path. No matter which direction she looked, she couldn’t see Rumplestiltskin’s castle. Hopefully, that meant she was far enough away. Now all she had to do was find some food or shelter. Or, find some people to give her food and shelter. She was still a queen after all… even if she had fallen.

A small village wasn’t too far from where she’d landed, and Madalena sighed, pushing herself into the nearest pub.

“The next round is on me!” a man shouted, lifting an empty stein into the air. “Grimsund shall prosper once again!”

There was a roar from the crowd, and Madalena gasped as a mug was shoved into her hand from the nearest barmaid.

“Oh, I - ”

“No need to worry, Prince James paid for this round,” she said with a grin. “He’s just come back from a giant hunt.”

A prince, huh?

Madalena could work with that.

“Thank you, then,” she said to the barmaid. “Is that him over there?”

“Aye, that’s him, but if you think you’ve got a chance with him, you may want to temper your expectations. The rumor is he’s got a different woman in his bed every month,” she explained. “Truth is, I don’t know if he’ll ever commit to one woman, even if the king forces an arrangement.”

Ah, so it was that sort of deal, hm? Fine. Madalena could take out the competition.

“I see, thank you kindly,” she said, sipping at her beer before sauntering over to the prince and dropping into the seat across from him.

He raised a brow. “And who might you be.”

“I might be Queen Madalena of Keburg, I might be just a figment of your imagination,” she smirked.

James furrowed his brow. “Weren’t you deposed?”

“Details, details.”

James looked her up and down. “Well, what can I do for fellow royalty?”

“That’s just it. I’m not exactly royal anymore, and I just spent eight years trapped in a book thanks to the Dark One. As much as I hate to do this, I need help.”

Setting his much on the table, James leaned forward. “And what can you do for me?”

Madalena waved her hand, magic gathering in it. “What do you need?”

---

“Here you go, Emma, grilled cheese and onion rings. Hey - you alright?” Ruby asked, setting the plate down in front of her.

Emma rubbed her eyes and looked up from the newspaper in front of her. “Yeah, thanks. I’m just trying to find a place for us to live, and it’s not like there are a lot of options here.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me. If there were more affordable houses here, I’d have moved out of the bed and breakfast a long time ago. That, and if Granny would ever let me meet with Victoria…”

The last part was said in a mumble, which had Emma raising a brow. “What do you mean?”

Ruby looked around, before digging through her apron and pulling out a card. “Victoria Belfrey-Polastel. She’s a realtor in town. Wanted to buy Granny’s not too long ago and make it more modern, instead of a dumpy diner and bed and breakfast. Granny hit the roof and refused to ever serve her, but she gave me a card if I ever needed it, but you and your family need it more than I do, so here. Just… don’t tell Granny I told you about her.”

Emma took the card, sliding it into her wallet. “Thanks Ruby. I owe you one.”

“So long as you don’t tell Granny, consider us even.”

And that was how Emma found herself sitting in a way too spotless, modern office that afternoon after making sure Henry didn't need anything.

Seriously, was this Victoria thinking she was selling to celebrities and the too-wealthy in New York City? What was with this place?

“Mrs. Cassidy, welcome.”

Emma briefly considered reminding the woman that her name was Emma, but decided against it. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’m sorry it’s on such short notice.”

“Oh no need to apologize for something like that! This is my job after all, and it’s not often I get a client with a family that needs to be moved. Everyone here just seems to be so settled that they never go anywhere. But what sort of house were you and your family looking for?” Victoria said, flourishing a pen and smoothing out the notepad in front of her.

Emma paused. What were they looking for in a house? They hadn’t had many options when it came to apartments, aside from the location and the spectacular front door that Emma was going to miss.

“Er… at least three bedrooms, although four would be ideal, I guess, so Neal and I can have an office,” she started, running her tongue along her teeth in an attempt to think. “Maybe a nice yard. We’re from Boston and our son has never had a yard to play in.”

Victoria was nodding, scribbling away. “I have two daughters. I get it.”

“Maybe something updated? I don’t know if we can handle moving all of our stuff and finding out the house needs new floors or a new bathroom.”

“Ah!” Victoria suddenly said, tossing the pen onto her desk and rapidly typing on her computer. “I have the perfect house for you, Mrs. Cassidy. 715 Tenth Street. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, nicely updated and a large backyard. It’s an updated Victorian, and one of the best Storybrooke can offer. We can drive over now, if you want to see it?”

Emma nodded, her throat dry.

But Victoria was right, 715 Tenth Street was what she would call perfect for that family, and she signed on the dotted line in the spotless kitchen - her kitchen, and blinked in shock as Victoria passed her the keys.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Cassidy.”

[cecaeliana]

@gotnerved​  𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙴   :   𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 ,  𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 (𝟷) 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝.  

it starts simple.

“take a seat.”

“no, thanks, I’m good right here.”

it gets harder.

“why are you here?”

“I don’t wanna be.”

“then why are you?”

why? because of a stupid dare in a stupid game that she doesn’t want to carry on playing but she’s in too deep to back out- and her saviour complex won’t let her. she’s not allowed to say that. so she’ll have to spin a little white lie.

“i owe it to someone,” she says.  

she doesn’t like the knowing look she gets. it makes her want to kick the expensive looking desk over. she doesn’t say that.

“they must be important.”

that’s not technically true. or it shouldn’t be. the opinions of the people watching her shouldn’t be important to her at all. and she’d like to say they’re not. but she’s also a sucker for a popularity contest.

she wonders if the people who are important would want her to do this, talk about her feelings with a stranger and seek some kind of release. maybe they would. gods know she’s fucked up.

she’s been silent for too long, she knows, when they speak again.

“is there something in particular that you wanted to talk to me about?”

she knows they have to ask and she knows that the dare demands that she talk about something, but she doesn’t know where to start. she never has.

“it’s just been kind of a bad week,” she says, tongue pressing hard against the back of her teeth. “but it’s fine, it’ll be fine. i’ve got other stuff to do.”

“you have a busy schedule?”

“you could say that again. but here we are, talking about nothing instead of me being out there doing something useful.”

“is that necessary? feeling useful?”

“sure, no-one ever got remembered for doin’ nothing.”

“you want to be remembered?”

“i want to make a difference. there’s a difference.”

“is there?”

she doesn’t like the implication. it sits heavy in her chest. like an anchor.

“there’s a difference in how you get remembered. you can either do somethin’ good, leave somethin’ behind that people need or want, somethin’ they’re gonna want to keep, or you can be remembered as a monster, a villain. i’d prefer the former. but maybe that’s just me.”

there’s a quiet moment where something is written down and she hates that too.

“and are you? doing something good?” they ask. which she can add to the list of things bothering her. good is such an arbitrary word.

“yeah. or haven’t you heard? I’m turnin’ a garbage dump human rights violation into a place people might want to live. i’m giving everyone a second chance. which is more than i could say for some people. like beast.”

“you’re trying to bring down the system?”

“i’m tryin’ to fix the system! i’m tryin’ to fix the world he broke. to save all those kids he left to rot.”

“do you feel like he did that to you?”

she scoffs sharply. “not on purpose, he just didn’t care at all about the hundreds of starving, beaten, freezing kids he was leaving behind when he chose not to look twice at the isle. but, yeah, i was one of them.”

“what was that like?”

“fighting for scraps? eating food that had already been in other people’s garbage cans? having to carry a weapon with you so you don’t get killed just walking to school? oh, it was great. i really enjoyed days where i had to jam a knife into kids barely older than me just to get ‘em to stop harassing me. throwing things at me. calling me names. pulling my hair. and now, just to add insult to injury, i’m working to make things better for them. for people who have spent years hating me just ‘cause someone else said it was the cool thing to do. and here i am now, trying to give them basic necessities like food and clothes and homes with running water and rooves that don’t leak, like an education and skills they can use in getting jobs. and trying to create jobs. farmland. basic amenities.”

“on your own?”

“always.” it’s a reflex more than anything, but she pauses, and she backtracks. “no, not on my own. there’s a lot of people looking to back me up and help me out. to take some of the strain or whatever. they’re practically queuing up to help.”

“but?”

“but, i don’t want them messing up my system.”

“that doesn’t sound like there’s a lot of trust, there.”

“hey, that’s not fair. I trust them- most of them- with my life. this isn’t a trust exercise, it’s—something else. this is my job.”

“and if they took that away from you, you wouldn’t have anything left? you wouldn’t feel…useful?”

“that is a gross misinterpretation of my words.”

“i’m just trying to understand. why don’t you want the help? it sounds like too much work for one person, but you’ve admitted that you don’t want to share it out.”

“i don’t.”

“why?”

because being queen of the isle means everything to her. because it’s her identity. for so long she’s done her hardest to make a name for herself, one that isn’t the Bad Name. because she doesn’t want to see anyone else struggle under the weight of obligation. because she enjoys it. because she needs to be in control. because she feels like no-one else is capable. because she wants to be useful.

all her life she’s struggled to be useful, to be seen, to be heard, to be remembered. she’d been forgotten by her mother, betrayed and forgotten by her only friend. and no matter how hard she worked or how much she tried, it was never good enough.

but this, this can and will be good enough. not for her ma, who cares what that old bat thinks? but for everyone. the world will see that she’s earned her place in auradon. she’s earned her title. and that she’s finally, finally good enough.

“because other people will get it wrong, weren’t you listening?”

she’s waited too long.

“you must feel like you’ve got a pretty solid plan, to be so confident in it.”

“yeah, i do. i know what i’m doing.”

“it seems like you do.”

“woah, hold up, that’s a weird way to phrase that. it seems like i do? what is that supposed to mean? i do know what i’m doing.”

she has worked too hard on this to be thrown at the last hurdle by someone in a flashy office being paid way too much money to analyse what’s going on inside her head. she’s suddenly not even sure that she wants that analysis. in fact, she knows she doesn’t.

“i didn’t say you didn’t. i was saying that from this short time you seem like a capable young woman with her whole life ahead of her. but i would like to see you again, if you are comfortable with the idea.”

“yeah, i’ll let you know.”

there was no way she was coming back here again. was there?  

“alright, and in the mean-time, work on trusting those close to you. when they offer to help you, try taking it. just something small. say yes. alright?”