#my girl deserved so much better like she just got her generational curse lifted and immediately dies???

[ornitharts]

Didn’t hate the finale. Not the best episode of the season but not bad. I actually like Agatha’s sacrifice and ending. She couldn’t save Nicky, but she could save the little twink who reminds her so much of him. I also don’t mind no Agathario backstory. The show was never really about them, it’s about Agatha and her relationship with Billy. I think focusing on her and Nicky and her loss thematically fits so much.

I get that ghost Agatha is silly, but I’ll never complain about more Katherine Hahn.

[robininthelabyrinth]

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that���s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

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

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

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

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

Rated T, gen.

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

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

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

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

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

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

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

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

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

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

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

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

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

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

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

“For free?” Rex demands.

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

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

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

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

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

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

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

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

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

“Yeah?”

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

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My last fight--”

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

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

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

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

“Jedi?”

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

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

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

“Bit young for that.”

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

“Not in command.”

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

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

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

This part of the story is his.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the difference?”

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

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

“Time travel.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s say I believe you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That why you’re special?”

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

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

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

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caf?”

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

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

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

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

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

“Try me anyway.”

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

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

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

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

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

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

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

“You’re hard on yourself.”

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

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

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

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

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

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

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

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

It’s Depa.

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

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

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

“Are you Depa?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

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

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

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

Does she?

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

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

Right. That.

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

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

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

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

That was a forgone conclusion.

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

She does.

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

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

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

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

She feels more like a person come morning.

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

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

“Feeling better?”

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

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

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

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

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

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

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

Of course it isn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

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

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

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

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

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

"No, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

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

“Fett?”

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

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

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

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

“And you just kept doing it.”

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

He doesn’t answer her.

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

Rex greets them before she does.

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

She recognizes one of them.

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

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

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

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

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not like they know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

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

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

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

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

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was what?”

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

That’s pretty true.

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

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

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

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

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

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

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

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

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

“I get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

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

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

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

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

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

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

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

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That one gets her an odd look.

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

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

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

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

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

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

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

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

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

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

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

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drop your elbow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

“And you?”

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

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

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

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

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

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

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

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

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

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

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

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

He licks her palm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whose idea was this?”

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

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

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

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

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

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

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

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

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

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

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

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

Then fucking Denon happens.

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

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

Fuel.

Paperwork.

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

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

It’s just a pit stop.

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

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

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

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

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

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

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call me that.”

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

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

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

He’s examining a papaya.

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

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

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

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

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

“It appears so, Sir.”

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

“Seems it.”

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

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

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

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

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

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

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

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

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

This was true and accurate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rex snorts derisively.

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

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

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

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

“Oh, yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

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

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

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

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

“I’m wh--”

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

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

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

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

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

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

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

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

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

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

Rex snorts.

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

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

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

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

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

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

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

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

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

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

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

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

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

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

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

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

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

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

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

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

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

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

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

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

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

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

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

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

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[cafeacademic]

omg congrats on your milestone!!!! here’s to many more *clink clink*,,, anyways i loVED YOUR ‘off the record’ with fox, and i’m a s1ut for him sOOO maybe prompt 31? f/gn!reader is cool!!

Fox sluts unite I love that man so much. here is some pure smut for our man because he deserves some time off and a bunch of smooches. hope you enjoy my lovely thank you for all your support <33

also i saw that you were working on a new fox thing as well very excited for that👀👀

On Background

click above for AO3 link

Pairing: Fox x Reader

Rating: Explicit (You know the drill)

Warnings: PiV sex, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, teasing, semi-public sex, some objectification of reader (but it's pretty tame)

Word Count: 2.2k

When Fox stumbled into your apartment one night, the first thing he saw was you slamming the door to your closet closed.

“You alright, princess?” he asked warily. He rolled his neck as he removed his bucket, trying to ease some of the tension of the day.

“Yep!” you said a little too eagerly. Fox closed the gap between the two of you, lifting your chin with his forefinger. You looked up at him innocently.

“What are you hiding?” he teased. Leaning into his touch, you smirked.

“Oh, just work stuff. Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you said. Fox narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. “Are you working the Chancellor’s speech tomorrow?”

“Don’t remind me,” Fox groaned. The Chancellor’s annual speech was never a fun night for the Guard; they often had to arrive early to help set up, listening to Palpatine fuss for several hours before the actual main event. If that wasn’t already draining, they often had to hear faux praise from the various elites that attended the event, though they knew that most considered them less than human. Sensing that Fox was getting lost in his thoughts, you reached up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll make sure to stop by then,” you said, snuggling into his hold. Fox rested his chin on the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of being held.

~~~

The next day, Fox was running around, trying to ensure that everything was set up for the Chancellor’s speech, at least security-wise. In between pretending to listen to the demands of Palpatine and downing cups of caf from the break room, he would respond to the silly comms you would send him. On typical days, you would complain about your coworkers or send him pictures of cute lothcats you saw on the holonet. Today, however, your messages were suspiciously short.

“Miss you xoxo,” your last message read. That had been nearly two hours ago, and Fox hadn’t heard from you since. It was probably for the best, considering how much work he had to do, but it still hurt a bit.

“Are you stopping by?” he tapped out a message to you. A few minutes later, his commlink buzzed.

“Something came up. Have to take the time to get ready for a work thing tonight,” you replied. Normally, Fox would have sulked at the fact that you couldn’t visit, but he was instead intrigued by the fact that you had followed up your message with a photo attachment.

He nearly dropped the comm when he opened the picture. You were laid out on your bed, crisp white blouse unbuttoned and falling off your shoulder. A thin, lacy bra covered your chest, the material a perfect Corrie Guard red. At the very bottom of the photo, Fox could see that your skirt was hiked up over your hips, allowing just a glimpse of the matching panties.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he typed back. He could imagine you smirking down at your comm as you tapped out a response, the image only making his half-hard cock press even tighter against his codpiece. A soft buzz alerted him to your response.

“Is it a good look? I’ve been told that we’re supposed to dress nicely for the Chancellor’s speech. Wouldn’t want to make a poor impression on my first time covering the event,”

Fox nearly groaned out loud; there would be no way he could concentrate if you were going to be at the speech tonight. All he would be able to think about would be how badly he needed to see you in the pretty lingerie you were wearing.

“You better behave tonight,” Fox responded. It was only a few seconds before your reply came.

“But where’s the fun in that, Commander?”

This time, Fox did groan out loud.

By two minutes into the Chancellor’s speech, Fox was already bored out of his mind. Instead of being on alert for attempted assassinations as Palpatine had requested, his eyes were scanning the crowd for you. The general comm chatter from his brothers had become a background hum as he searched for your telltale white blouse.

When he finally found you, he was almost embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed you sooner. You were sitting in the press box near the front, near enough that you could pick up all the details of the speech but out of the way enough that the Chancellor couldn’t see you. As if you could feel his gaze, your eyes immediately snapped to Fox’s visor. You bit your lip teasingly as you toyed with the top button of your blouse. Fox straightened his posture, hoping to convey as much warning as he could with just his body language. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care; likely the latter, seeing as you popped the button with ease and pulled your neckline open slightly, revealing just the top of the lace covering your breasts.

“Hey Fox, you see that girl in the press pit?” Thire’s voice cut through the comm chatter that Fox had blocked out. Thire’s comment, however, snapped him right back to his senses.

“What about her?” Fox snapped back a little too defensively.

“She’s cute, isn’t she? Keeps toying with the hem of her skirt,” Thire commented. Fox bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his brother.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind tearing that skirt off of her!” Hound added with a snort. Thire hummed in agreement. Before Fox could start yelling at his brothers, Thorn cut into the conversation.

“Hey, vod? I think that’s the Commander’s girl,” he said warily. Thorn was the only one Fox had confided in about his newfound relationship, and that was mostly because he had heard the two of you going at it in Fox’s office. A number of curses poured over the comm, and Fox smirked at the panicked apologies his brothers gave.

Turning his attention back to you, Fox noted that the second button on your blouse had also come undone. The crimson lace was now peeking prominently through your neckline, and you had a smirk plastered on your face. With a wink, you spread your legs in your chair slightly, allowing Fox a glimpse of your panties.

Faking an important message, Fox pulled out his comm and quickly tapped out a warning: “Keep that up and you’re not going to like your punishment,”

You checked your comm and responded quickly, still smirking. “Aww, can’t handle a little teasing?”

Fox growled quietly under his helmet. Just as he was about to type out a message back, he was roused from his thoughts by thunderous applause, signaling that the Chancellor had finished speaking. Mentally, Fox made a note to thank Palpatine for keeping it short this year. As soon as he was off the stage, he sent you a quick message. “My office. Now.”

You were already sitting on his desk when Fox entered his office, swinging your legs innocently.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been trying to get you alone all night!” you said, hopping off the desk and reaching for your lover. Before you could get to him, however, Fox scooped you up in his arms and pressed your back against the wall.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growled, voice still modulated by his helmet. You smirked up at him.

“What, you didn’t like my little show? I got all dressed up for you and everything!” you pouted, reaching to take off Fox’s helmet. His hand shot out and gripped your wrist before you could touch him.

“No way, sweetheart,” he said, grinding against you. “You’re not getting away with teasing me that easily,”

Holding you steady against the wall with his hips, he ripped your shirt in two, the remaining buttons flying around the room. He could still feel the heat of your breasts, even through his gloves. You squealed as he pinched your nipple through your bra, admiring how the bud peaked through the red lace. In the back of his mind, Fox worried that he was being too rough with you, that you might not like how he was touching you. His worries were calmed, however, when he saw the absolutely delighted look on your face as you squirmed out of his grasp and sank to your knees.

“Can I please suck your cock, Commander?” you batted your eyelashes. Fox nodded and you launched for his codpiece, getting the armor off in record time. You grinned devilishly at him as you pulled his cock out of his blacks, the tip already flushed a rosy brown and a bead of precum leaking from the tip. When you licked teasingly up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, Fox reached out to roughly tangle his fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” he warned. You obliged, taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. Fox swore loudly, trying to keep from bucking into your mouth. You worked what you couldn’t reach with your hand, twisting your wrist to spread the saliva that was slicking his cock. When Fox’s grip on your hair tightened, you pulled off of him with a pop.

“Was that what you wanted, sir?” you teased. Before Fox could scold you, his words caught in his chest as you began pumping him again, this time slowly working down him with your mouth. The modulated groans of the clone above you made you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief. When you thought he was distracted enough by your tongue, you slid a hand down between your legs.

“Oh, sweetheart. You just keep testing me, don’t you?” Fox growled, tugging you off of his cock by the hair. You looked down sheepishly, not having expected to get caught. Fox quickly discarded his helmet before yanking you back to your feet.

“‘M sorry, sir,” you said. Fox looked like he was going to fall victim to your puppy dog eyes, but he shook his head and adjusted you so he could have access to your clothed cunt. With two fingers, he slid the scrap of fabric to the side, inhaling sharply when he noticed how wet you were.

“Does putting on a show like that get you this wet?” Fox said, lining himself up with your entrance. “You know all my brothers could see you?”

“Really-- fuck!” your words were interrupted by the stretch of Fox sliding into you with one movement. Normally, you would’ve been upset that he didn’t touch you first, but you were so turned on that he slid in with little resistance.

“They were all drooling over you, sweetheart,” Fox said through gritted teeth as he fucked you. The slight jealousy he felt was obvious not just in his voice, but in the rough way he was fucking you, almost as if he was worried you’d disappear out from under him. You grabbed his chin and kissed him passionately.

“Mhmm, but you’re the only one who gets to fuck me, Commander,” you said when you pulled away from the kiss. “I’m all yours, Fox,”

That seemed to unlock something in Fox’s head, because he began fucking you with even more force, trying to get as deep inside you as he could with every thrust. He began to mouth at your collarbone, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, that’s right. Mine,” he repeated into your neck. You scrambled for purchase on the plastoid armor he was still wearing as he ruined you, moans pouring out of you too loudly for the only semi-private office. Neither of you seemed to care, though.

“Fuck, Fox, I wanna come,” you whined, shivering from when his groin rubbed against your clit with a well-angled thrust. Fox seemed to contemplate for a moment before grinning into your collarbone.

“No,”

“What do you mean no? Shit, Fox!” you cried out. Fox’s thrusts were getting sloppy, and you knew he was close.

“I mean no. I’m gonna fill up this pussy, and then we’re going to go home, and if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come then,” Fox said, voice shaking slightly.

“Shit, you can’t be serious. Come on, I’m so close,” you said breathlessly as Fox’s hips snapped into yours with such force that you slid up the wall you were pressed against.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before teasing me all night,” Fox growled, breathing heavily. You whined in protest, but he had made up his mind. “Fuck, you’re all mine. I’m the only one who should get to see you like this,”

“All yours, Fox. Only yours,” you moaned, and that sent Fox over the edge. He bit down harshly on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan as he emptied himself inside you. Fox slumped against the wall, leaning into your body, and you pressed gentle kisses to his temple as he recovered.

“You know, I love you and everything, but I need you to get me home so you can fuck me properly,” you said, the serene smile on your face in sharp contrast to how needy you felt. Fox pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Are you ever going to learn to behave?” he said with mock exasperation.

“No, you like me better this way,” you teased back, making yourself presentable before pulling a lovestruck Fox out of his office, the two of you too enamored with each other to register the catcalls from the other guardsmen.

[patchofsunlight]

Hands | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Bakugou learned from a young age to keep his hands to himself, even when his entire body longed for touch and his eyes filled with tears at the loss of a comforting habit.

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, angst, touch starved bakugou!!, kind of a character study? i think about him a lot, one kiss, cursing, consensual hand holding (PFFFT), mitsuki fucking sucks but what’s new

I hope you like this!! please remember feedback is always appreciated and all that. thank you for reading!! sorry if it sucks LMAO I DID MY BEST AND I KINDA LIKE IT

When he was a child, before he even cared about quirks or rankings or strength, Bakugou Katsuki loved holding hands.

No one knew exactly why, but that was just something he liked. He would hold Izuku’s hand while they talked and ran around the neighborhood, he would take his teacher's hand in his ever so softly whenever he walked over to their desk to ask a question. Katsuki would latch onto his dad with the most loving, tiny grip he could muster, and he would even interlace pinkies with his mom when she was having a good day and didn’t deem his manners “too soft”,  “too weak”, “too foolish”. Those were nice days in the Bakugou household.

Bakugou Katsuki was five years old when he had his heart broken for the first time. It was a few weeks after his quirk manifested and he was just so excited to play hero (with a quirk, this time!) alongside his friends after school that he didn’t even hesitate before grabbing Izuku’s hand exactly like he always did, jumping up and down with energy and happiness, rambling about how he was gonna be the number one hero one day — until Izuku screamed, pulling his hand away with a painful expression. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows, confused at his best friend’s antics, and then he saw it: the raw, burned flesh of his palm.

Katsuki had hurt his best friend.

It’s very easy to fix objects, his dad used to tell him while stitching up one of his ripped shirts, you just get a bit of glue or yarn and you put it back together, a smile graced his lips at the feeling of his son taking his hand immediately after he let go of the sewing needle, but people are a lot harder to patch up, Katsu. People can’t be fixed, sometimes.

He wasn’t exactly sure of when he started shoving his hands inside his pockets, when he started opening doors with his feet and touching people with his shoulders to get their attention. It took him a while to understand that that first occasion wasn’t an accident, and that controlling his quirk when he got too excited or just overly happy was too hard and the security he got from all those tender touches he so eagerly searched from everyone in his life wasn’t worth the risk. The best thing Katsuki could do, for himself and for others, was to keep his hands to himself, even if they felt cold and empty and his big red eyes filled with tears at the loss of such a comforting habit.

He told himself it didn’t matter. You’d have to overgrow that over time, anyway, his mom reminded him at some point. Such childish, silly bullshit. Only softies hold hands, Katsuki, and we both know you’re not a softie.

It was easy to pretend he didn’t miss it. After a few years, the lack of touch was simply another part of his life he consciously chose to ignore, another longing he conditioned himself not to think about. It wasn’t like many people noted his abrupt change in behavior either — there were other things about him that were much more worthy of attention than that, like his killer quirk and quick brain, like his determination and ambition. Who cared about the fact that little Bakugou Katsuki didn’t want to hold hands anymore? Who cared about the fact that little touchy and clingy Bakugou Katsuki now barely touched others? 

Such childish, silly bullshit. Only softies hold hands, Katsuki, and we both know you’re not a softie.

He met her during his second year at UA. Y/N was mostly quiet, but still friendly and hardworking, fighting hard for her place as the number one student in Class 2-B. A project involving the two classes put them as partners, and project meetings soon became sparring sessions that turned into study group that led to study dates and then real dates and, by the beginning of his senior year, Katsuki had gotten himself a girlfriend.

He wasn’t certain if she noticed the way he purposely kept his hands out of reach when they walked side by side, or if she ever saw how he always made sure his palms were pointing away from her skin whenever they hugged or cuddled. He didn’t think anyone would ever pay enough attention to him to the point of perceiving his hesitancy. It didn’t matter that Bakugou had gained complete control of his quirk, it didn’t matter that he still felt his skin and his hands tingling with the urge, the craving for touch — the satisfaction wasn’t worth the risk, not the stupid satisfaction he didn’t even need. Such childish, silly bullshit. Bakugou Katsuki was doing very well with letting go of old customs, no doubt.

But Y/N noticed. God, of course she did — she noticed all the longing gazes, all the small flinches. She noticed how he never let his hands touch hers and at first it made her worried. Didn’t he want to touch her? Had she done something wrong? Her boyfriend wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, even though he had been putting in the effort to talk to her whenever he felt a bit under the weather or bothered. 

However, this seemed like a bigger problem, like something he would never speak of unless she brought it up. It seemed deeper.

“Katsu?”

He lifted his scarlet eyes from the book in his hands and turned them to her sitting figure. They were both on his bed, despite curfew starting in less than an hour and the knowledge they shouldn’t be alone in his dorm. To be honest, Aizawa was quite used to watching the Class B girl sneak out of his student’s room every other night, wearing one of his many hoodies and those shorts that she always left in his closet. As long as they weren’t causing him any trouble, Eraserhead didn’t cause them any trouble, either.

“Yeah?” his voice was clearly tired after a day full of training and studying, a hint of sleepiness dripping from his tone.

“How come you never let me hold your hand?”

Katsuki froze on the spot, feeling his heart pick up its pace until it was beating so loud he could hear it by his ear, throbbing. He gulped harshly, sweat immediately gathering up on his hands from his own anxiety. She had noticed?

“What do you mean?” he tried to laugh calmly, but his chuckle sounded forced and nervous. He put the book away.

“You never let me hold your hand,” Y/N’s cheeks were tinted red with shyness. She had been pondering on how to talk to him about this for days now, yet seeing him so flustered made her surprisingly tense. “You avoid touching me with your hands in general, actually,” her chuckle sounded as forced and nervous as his, “is… Is there something wrong? Would you feel better if I stopped touching you so much? Does it make you uncomfortable? Because I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Katsu. You can talk to me about things like that, you know it.”

He couldn’t get himself to answer, unable to move or truly process her words. He really thought he had been slick, huh? He really thought she’d never notice, he really thought she’d never care. How would she feel if he told her he was afraid to hurt her, that he was afraid he would lose control of his quirk and burn her somehow, like he had done with Izuku all those years ago? Would she think he was childish and silly, too? Such childish, silly bullshit, Bakugou Katsuki scared of holding hands with his girlfriend, scared of touching her and holding her like she deserved to because what if it went wrong? What if he fucked it up? The best thing Katsuki could do, for himself and for others, was to keep his hands to himself, even if they felt cold and empty and his big red eyes filled with tears at the loss of such a comforting habit.

People are a lot harder to patch up, his father told him. He didn’t want to be guilty of screwing this up, didn’t want to destroy the relationship he cherished so, so much. Would she think he was weak for being this reluctant? Would she laugh at his stupid antics and tell him to grow up and stop being such a softie? Would she get mad? Should he even tell her?

“Katsu?” her soft voice relaxed his muscles like it habitually did, and he sighed deeply before meeting her worried eyes. “Talk to me?”

Y/N had always had this amazing talent of making him feel at ease. Ever since they met, so many months ago, she had this blinding quality that urged him to be quieter, calmer, less defensive. She didn’t even have to try tearing down his walls — they simply melted away when she smiled at him for the first time. He had never really talked about this issue with anyone else before, and he didn’t know how to even start, but Y/N made him want to try. Still, the words felt heavy on his tongue.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered so quietly that she leaned in to hear him, furrowing her eyebrows in disagreement.

“Come on, Katsu. Please?”

He inhaled deeply. She stared patiently, waiting for him to organize his own thoughts enough to explain the thousands of things running through his mind. When his eyes met hers again, he felt warm all over. Katsuki loved the way she looked at him — there was no fear, no ulterior interest, no nonsensical admiration. She looked at him and she saw… Katsuki. Just that. And, strangely, that seemed enough.

The boy averted his eyes from hers. “I don’t want to hurt you with my quirk.”

Oh. Oh? That, well, that was definitely unexpected. The crease in Y/N’s eyebrows deepened. 

“Why would you ever hurt me, Katsuki?”

The future hero lifted his head to look at her instantly, confusion swimming in his red gaze as he answered, “I mean by accident, Y/N. I—,” he almost stopped himself right there, yet her expression caused him to continue, “I really liked holding hands when I was younger, you know? With my friends, teachers, family, and all that,” his ears were bright pink with embarrassment that subsided when she smiled softly at the new information, “it made me feel safe or whatever. Then I—then I got my quirk and, sometimes, when I held hands with people it just—,” he exhaled heavily before letting out a sad, defeated laugh, “I have burned a nasty amount of people. I don’t want to do that with you, too. I’d never want to hurt you.”

Katsuki was hardly a vulnerable person. He tried to be, yes, because he wanted this to work and for it to work he had to meet her halfway somehow during certain moments, but it was so, so difficult. It was so difficult for him to open up and talk about one of his biggest insecurities of all time, about one of the things he most craved for. He didn’t want to scare her away.

“Katsuki.” Her tone was serious and she stared at him with such intensity that he lost the ability to breathe for a second. “I understand where you’re coming from, but that’s bullshit.”

Bakugou blinked. “What?”

“You’d never hurt me, okay? I know you wouldn’t. I trust you, Katsu, so much. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about this before,” she bit her lip thoughtfully while he could only stand there, dumbfounded with her reaction. 

Out of all his imagined worst-case scenarios, this was a surprise. 

“Katsu,” the girl called to him again, smiling lovingly in that way that made his world spin in its axis when they first met, “do you trust me too?”

“Of course I do,” there was no hesitation this time. Of course he did.

“Can I touch your hands?”

Once again, he froze on the spot. She looked at him expectantly.

People are a lot harder to patch up. She was trying, though. She was really trying to fix the ripped pieces of himself he tried to bury under anger and seclusion, pretending there was nothing wrong and that this was just how things were supposed to be. 

Bakugou looked down at his own hands, studying them carefully. With a last shaky exhale, he nodded.

She took his hands in hers, letting her fingers interlace with his cautiously so as to not startle him. Her thumb caressed his palm ever so softly and he fought the instinctive flinch that threatened to push her away. After years without it, this type of touch felt too intimate, too close, too new.

He liked it. 

He smiled.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” Y/N smiled back, grinning when he took it upon himself to squeeze her hand in appreciation. “You’re fine, Katsuki. I like holding your hand.”

His smile grew wider and he leaned in to kiss her, living for the feeling of her fingers squeezing his while their lips moved slowly. They had kissed a million times before, yet this felt different. If given the chance, Katsuki probably wouldn’t mind being stuck in that moment forever, with her lips on his and his hands on hers — Y/N had melted away all his walls and defenses from the start, and he was incredibly glad. He was incredibly glad for her.

His heart was beating fast inside his chest, especially when she pulled one of his hands up slightly to let it cup her face. A shiver went down his spine as he felt the curve of her jaw under his fingertips, the softness of her skin touching his. When there was not any air left in their lungs, they parted from each other. She turned her face to kiss his palm affectionately and his entire face seemed to burst with love and gratitude.

“I like holding your hand, too.”

She giggled, and, for the first time, Bakugou felt like it’d be alright if he decided not to keep his hands to himself. Such childish, silly bullshit, waiting around when he could’ve been holding hands this whole time.

A/N: so that was it!!! i hope you liked it!!! hehe hello

taglists

all: @kiedhara @wingeddemonclub @thedemigodsarealivebitch @ray-ofmoonlight​

also tagging @tsuhika bc i am: a fan and you gave us permission to tag you in shit SOO KJSFBIUEFB LMAO SORRY

[unbreathable]

ride home  / S. Rogers

Summary : As a girl you were always told to never accept a ride from unknown men. You knew what could happen, you knew the dangers and heck, you`ve seen how it ruined some girls. But hey, he`s your teacher, nothing could happen. Right?

Pairing : Dark(soft)!teacher Steve Rogers x female Reader

Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, rape, violence, manipulation and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.

Warnings for this one shot : manipulation, noncon elements, rape, use of drugs, lost of virginity. This is some kind of au and Steve might be out of character a little.

Word count : 3.319

Credit : for the gif I used, the credit goes to its rightful creator.

Note : Don’t expect this to be any good. I came up with this over the course of a few hours and I’m still learning how to write one shots, as I find it much easier to write a series. Also I still suck at writing “smut”. I’m trying to perfect it, tho. Promise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one shot till my mind would be satisfied with the way the next chapter of “The Magpie” turned out and would let me post it. :)) Also, please excuse any mistakes I made. Have a great day you guys!

                   Also, to all the writers from this platform : thank you !

Girl found wondering around without any memory of the last few days, claims she had been abducted and raped...

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the case which has been all over the news for the past week. It was quite predictable, really. Young girl, too drunk for her own good woke up by herself in the middle of nowhere. You sighed. In a city as big as New York, cases like this happened almost every other day, but there was always something left behind. Fight marks, blood, hair. Anything that could help the police find the person who did it. This time though, there was nothing.

The poor girl. You couldn`t help but pity her. She must be terrified. All alone against a world that knows nothing better than to judge. You pinched your nose in exasperation.

Cases like this, it`s what made you choose to study law. You wanted to be able to help other women. To offer them a chance at justice. No one deserved to be told that it was their own fault for wondering alone at night or for wearing something more showing. No girl should feel like the law protects only the male population...

“ And what`s your opinion on this matter, miss I`m too busy scrolling on my phone to pay attention to class?”

You cursed in your head, as you put your phone away and lifted your eyes to meet your teacher.

Steve Rogers. America`s hero, savior of the world and an actual pain in your ass, was looking at you expectantly. You held his gaze as you forced your lips to form some kind of smile. Something about him always put you on edge and the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, didn`t exactly help ease the feeling.

“I`m sorry, I was distracted.” you murmured, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he caught you unprepared. ”If you would be so kind...”

You looked at him as you raised one eyebrow. It was always like this. No matter what you did he`d always find something to pick at you. At first you took it as a form of banter between a teacher and his students, but with time it became clearly that he had a problem with you. Your grades didn`t reflect the hard work you always put in. Your extra work wouldn`t be considered. Every time you would as much as look at your watch he`d find something to jab at you. He would also have something to say about every paper you handed him. It was a miracle you even made the grade for his class.

You cringed as you remembered the comments he would make about your life outside his class. You seemed to bump into him on a daily. There was also something, in the way he watched your every move, that it made the hair at the back of your neck stay high on alert. You really couldn`t understand what you`ve done that America`s sweetheart despised you that much.

”The women rights...” he smirked down at you.

“Oh, yes. I strongly believe that women should have got their rights the same time men did.” you smiled when you realized that he wanted to add something else. “I mean we know that every society of this world was built around androcentrism, but if we`re real the women were the ones that kept everything from falling apart.” you drew in a short breath. “Oh, and I believe that 1920 was a bit late for our women to get their rights, since women all around the world fought for it since the 18th century.”

You smirked, as for once in your life the bell rang exactly when you needed it. Forcing a smile his way, you stood up gathering your notebooks. You were quite proud of yourself, not because your answer was the desired one, but because you got on professor Rogers nerves. While he didn`t seem to have a problem with women and feminists in general, he sure had a problem with the way you choose to speak on the matter. From the corner of your eye you saw his jaw twitch.

At first you were afraid to even say your opinion lest you would upset him, but now you enjoyed to see that vein on his forehead nearly pop. You held back a giggle. Oh well, at least you won`t have to see him for the next few weeks.

“Professor!” you rolled your eyes when you herd your bestfriend use her sweet voice. “I was wondering if you`d like to come to our party tonight.”

You stood straight, narrowing your eyes at the one that has been your friend since the first day you came to the city. What the hell was happening. You knew she had a crush on him, everyone did, but she wasn`t the one to just go and ask someone out, especially not him. You watched her in confusion as professor Rogers made his way to the front of the class.

“You know, with everything happening right now, the uni council would let us hold the party only if there was someone that could take care of us.”

“Oh!” you supposed that made sense, but even so why did it have to be him.

“Of course professor Barnes already said that he`ll be there, but we`d be thankful if you came too. Please!” your friend bated her eyelashes at him as you rolled your eyes.

Professor Rogers had a pleased smile as he moved his eyes from her to you. You held his gaze, even going as far as raising one eyebrow at him. He blinked, before turning his head towards the rest of the class.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he said after a short moment dismissively. ”`I`ll be there.”

There was something sinister in his eyes. Something that you failed to see as you made your way out of the lecture class.

“I can`t believe you invited him!” you playfully jabbed your friend in the shoulder as she walked next to you.

“Oh, come on! It’s just tonight, and I bet he won’t be able to stay up that late since he’s like... the same age as history?” she bit back a laugh, as she took your hand. “It will be fun, you`ll see.”

You hoped she was right since you were never a big fan of parties of any kind.

                                       _ _ _

This wasn`t fun. Not at all.

You knew you should have stayed home, yet you still wanted to enjoy the last night with your class mates before break. But this wasn`t it. The music was too loud and you couldn`t even hear what some people were saying. Also you`ve never really been a techno fan. The food was crap and you were sure everyone came just because there were free drinks.

It was well past midnight and you have been there since the beginning, but you were already dreading it. You smiled as your only joy came from watching drunk freshmen being rejected by some of your friends. The girls were ruthless and that made you proud.

“Hey girl!” your bestfriend came by your side, holding two glasses in her hands as her body danced along the rhythm of the music. “Look at was professor Rogers sent us.”

Her words were slurred and you could see that she drank already too much. That`s why at first you thought you didn`t hear her right. While it wasn`t unusual for men to send women drinks, getting a drink from your teacher was something you never thought could happen. It was wrong in a way.

“What?” your eyes widened as soon as the word left your mouth.

You eyed the glass she handed you. It seemed to be one of your favorites, and after the sour taste the beer left in your mouth, that would have been like a desert. Still something made you suspicious.

“Come on, take it!”  your friend pressed as she smiled broadly. “He must have realized that he’s been an ass all year and wants to make amends.”

She was giggling as her glossy eyes drifted around the room. She didn`t seem to be able to focus on anything, but somehow her shaky hands found yours and brought the glass you were holding closer to your mouth. You weren`t exactly sure what came over you, but you opened your mouth and let the liquid go down your throat. Involuntarily, your eyes wondered around till you saw the back of your least favorite teacher. He didn`t even seem to care about anything around him as he was engaged into a discussion with professor Barnes. That alone made you feel safe, even though the drink left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You were too quick to judge, you resonated. This was probably his way of saying: “Sorry I tormented you that much.” You suddenly giggled. It was shortly followed by your friend`s laughter. She threw the glass to the side and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.

You weren`t that much of a dancer. You knew just some basics moves and that was it, but now you didn`t seem to care. You let your body move, and only chuckled when your legs started to feel like jelly. It was a strange feeling. You suddenly felt like were floating.

You furrowed your brows as you started to feel that your body didn`t exactly respond to your impulses. Everything around you happened in slow motion.

You cursed. Just how much did you drink? Moving one hand to your head, you tried to get your senses back, but you found it too hard to do. Your head buzzed. For a second you looked around trying to spot your friend among the sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but it was like you couldn`t recognize anybody.

Fuck this. You had enough of this party already, and the way you felt made you decide that it was time to go home. You moved between the sea of bodies as fast as you could. Your coat and purse were the only thing you spent more than five minutes looking for, but as you found them you practically run out of there.

The bus stop wasn`t that far, but just the thought that you`ll have to go home by bus, made you want to throw up. You didn`t feel well and there was  dizziness that started to overcome you. As you watched the empty street, you cursed again. Of course you`ll have to wait till the next bus came. Damn it! You should really get your license.

The sound of a engine from behind you, made you turn your head. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the Range Rover slow down and actually stop right next to you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the tinted glass, but as a wave of nausea hit you, you moved your head to the side. You didn`t exactly pay attention when one of the windows went down. You didn`t really care. You felt sick, and all you wanted, was to get home.

“ I saw you left the party early.” the deep voice said. “Are you all right kitten?”

You hissed when you heard the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. What was he even doing here? Your heart skipped a beat as another wave hit. You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. Just ignore him and he`ll go away. You didn`t exactly knew why you choose to act like that but there was something in your head that told you it was for the best.

“Come on girl, I have to make sure everyone is safe and sound.” you heard his voice. “If you don`t feel fine, I can take you home.”

The idea of getting home sooner and in a nice car was looking really good right now. But still, you didn`t feel like it was the best for you. You choose to keep quiet for reasons not even you knew. You glossy eyes scanned the schedule of the bus that was right in front of you. Thirty minutes and you`ll go home.

You heard professor Rogers sigh.

“And here I thought you never shut your mouth.” there was a deep chuckle, fallowed by the sound of the engine coming to life. “Look kitten I can either get you home or I`ll go my merry way and let you here all alone... well not quite. But I`m not sure you`d want that kind of company.”

Confusion filled your mind. The sudden move you made to look at him, made you dizzy. You tried to focus your eyes, in time to see him pointing to somewhere behind you. You slowly turned.

A group of guys were eyeing you like a wolf would his prey. Your mouth fell open as they did obscene gestures at you. Your whole body freeze as fear took over you. You knew what could happen. Suddenly you were more sober that ever and as you heard the car start moving, you nearly threw yourself in front of it. On shaky legs you moved towards the door.

“Wait” you find it hard to speak. “Professor, I`m sorry I... please!”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and didn`t even register the way he smirked as you got into the car. Everything was a haze. You only felt like you could breath when the car started to gain speed. You didn`t even remembered to give him your address or anything, but as the car rolled down various streets you were only thankful you were far away from them.

“It such a crazy world out there” professor Rogers voice made you move your head towards him, but as the fear was gone, you started to feel the dizziness again.

With unfocused eyes you watched him. America`s hero was giving you a ride home for free and you were acting like he was your biggest enemy. What was wrong with you?

“I have to say I`m impressed.” he suddenly said as the car started to slow down. “That was one of the strongest drugs that you drank, and you still have some of your conscious left. The other ones were down after a few minutes.”

You looked at him and simply blinked. You wondered if your mind was playing games with you. Surely, he hadn`t said what you think you heard. You must have imagined everything.

“E... excuse me?” you asked dully.

You drew in a shaky breath as your trembling hand went to the door. He chuckled darkly at your attempts to open it. You wanted to scream but as your movement became slower and slower you found that fear wasn`t enough to fuel your limp body.

The car came to a sudden stop. You closed your eyes as you felt hands pulling you back.

“Now, now honey.” you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Don`t waste your energy, you`ll need it.”

You turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes. Something in your head was screaming at you to fight, to run, to get away. You wanted to punch, scratch, hurt him in any way. But your body didn`t listen.

It happened too fast. In a matter of second your dress was ripped to shreds. And your found yourself pressed to the door. He was over you in an instant. Turning your head to the side so that he could stare into your eyes. He had a hungry look on his face. You`ve seen it many times but it never terrified you as much as now.

“Just as pretty as I imagined.” he said in a husky voice.

You squeezed your legs as you felt his hand moving around along your body. He tugged at your bra till the clasps snapped. Your nipples stood erect, you didn`t know if it was from the cold of the car or the heat that was inside you. One of his hands came forward at pinched at your nipples. You made to move, but as sensing your intention he tugged your head back by your hair.

“Don`t you even dare!” he growled as his thumb played with one of your nipples. “I waited a long time for this”.

He leaned forward kissing down your stretched neck. His mouth was hot against your skin. You gasped when you felt his tongue leaving wet traces along your collarbone. He tugged at your hair one more time before his hand went down.

“Always dressing like this world is your own runaway, always thinking that you know it all.” he let out a moan as he squeezed your ass. “Do you know what a face as pretty as yours and an attitude like that do to a man?”

You whimpered. You never meant to catch his attention in that way, you just wanted to feel good about yourself. You wanted to tell him that. To tell him that you were sorry, but your brain didn`t work anymore. There was no reaction even as he spanked you. You felt like you could pass out every second.

“Don`t even think about it!”

You closed your eyes when your panties were soon the same as your other clothes. Slick was going down your legs. Despite everything, you were aroused.

“So fucking wet already. Good girl!” he praised.

You felt his hand descend down to your very core, proding around. You bit your lips as tears filled your eyes.

“How many have been here before?” he gave a low chuckle the same time his fingers pinched your button.

“One?” he mocked as one of his long fingers entered you.

You held back a gasp. Non, no, no. This wasn`t happening. Nobody touched you like that before. Nobody even came close to it. That`s not how you wanted it not how you dreamt it would happen. You wanted dinner, roses, a man you loved... not him.

“Two?” he continued as another finger stretched you.

You felt your walls clench around his fingers, as he moved them in and out ou you, everything while his thumb circled your most sensitive part.

“Fuck... you`re tight!” his breath was ragged, it was like he couldn`t get enough.

There was a sudden pause. In a quick move you found yourself pressed to the door of the car, as he angled your body to have better access to your burning core. He drew in a breath.

“A virgin.” he moaned.

You closed your eyes as you herd him playing at his clothes. The sudden hardness you felt proding around your core, made you shiver. You didn`t dare to look back and see it. You were scared. It seemed too big. You were afraid it would split you in a half.

You screamed when he entered you. The pain blurred your vision. Your whole body ached and tears fell down your cheeks. No, no, no. You bit back a moan of pain when he started to move, not caring about you at all. His moves were rough, punishing.

“Shhh doll, I`ll take care of you.” he rasped. “You must have waited so long for this... saving yourself for me.”

Your body moved in rhythm with his. His cock dragged along your walls as every move sent a wave of pain through you. Soon though, you found the pain disappeared. A strange feeling took over you. It was almost pleasurable. You guessed you would have enjoyed it under any other circumstances. But now? Now you were just tired.

As you passed out, you failed to notice the feeling of something warm flowing through you.

                                          _ _ _

Steve smiled down at your sleeping form. So pretty, even after being used like that. You had a glow. Too bad you might not remember anything that happened. He chuckled. It`s a  good thing he planned to keep you. He`ll make sure you`ll never forget him.

You were his girl after all. The only reason he took that shitty job as a teacher.

[pianorexic000]

Sweetspo Saturday

Hi y’all, so today is sweetspo Saturday.......

it speaks for itself. By the way, none of these are mine. I take no credit I have 0 creativity.

I dream of collarbones and thigh gaps, of hips jutting out and ribs just visible, casting shadows on porcelain flesh. I dream of crop tops and denim shorts, of thigh highs and sugar highs. And when I lay in bed at night, counting the calories of the day before my mind can’t help but wander, and I press into my doughy stomach, feel the hips hiding underneath, and remind myself how far I’ve come, and how far I still have to go.

Please listen, I know, I know it’s hard but listen, focus, you, you the most beautiful person on this whole entire planet you are going to make it, I promise you sweetheart, you’re going to make it. Think about it, think about how skinny you’ll be, how happy you will be, how you are going to be able to wear what you want, how you are going to be able to eat what you want and no one is going to make you feel bad for eating, no one. They’re going to be jealous, so fucking jealous, jealous of how you look and how you feel. They’re going to envy you. So stand up, keep your pretty head up and go. Exercise, drink water, eat less, eat healthy, sleep, do yoga, dance around. Get skinny and be finally happy. Please be finally happy.

You’ve been so disappointed in yourself lately. You’ve cursed those girls with a fast metabolism and regretted so much, sweetie. Countless of times you’ve thought, planned and wished to be skinny. I know you want this so badly, honey. But it’s never going to be given to you, sugar. You have to work for it and make yourself proud! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I know you’re very impatient with your weight-loss. You want to lose it NOW and would do anything to wake up tomorrow at you ugw. But that’s never going to happen, doll. It’ll take time, but you will get there, sweetie. You just have to be persistent and never give up. The road is very long, and there will be days where it’ll feel hopeless, angel. But i promise you that those days where you feel incredibly sexy and comfortable in your own skin are just around the corner. You’ll get there baby, but it’ll take time. So don’t beat yourself up.

You’ll look good in everything; you remember that bikini with the cute print? yes, you’ll look beautiful in it. you won’t look like a fat pig.

people will be jealous; they’ll envy you. you’ll become thinner while others are getting fatter.

you’ll be dainty; you’ll be the lightest in the room. everyone will be able to pick you up effortlessly.

others will compliment you; people will look at you and say “wow, have you lost weight?” “you look great!” “i wish i looked like you.”

you won’t be able to keep more than a cup of food down; you’ve trained your body, you and your body both know its limits.

you’ll have power; you can can control how you look, you’ll have control. self control instead of eating everything in sight. you’ll be proud when you refuse a chocolate bar someone is offering.

are you going to keep saying “i’ll do it tomorrow”

or are you going to start today?

you’ll get there sweetie, make them regret the day they dare call you fat; they’ll start talking GOOD behind your back; “she is losing so much weight omg” “ i wanna look like her.” “im so jealous of her tiny waist.”

make it happen, you cause the gain of weight

and the loss of weight.

It's Okay!

You were really bad this weekend weren’t you? You ate fatty food and cheated on your diet? I know you bash yourself for pushing yourself further from your goal, but it was just Easter and you were enjoying spending time with your family. Unfortunately that included eating. Thin is all you think about cutie, why would you stuff your face uncontrollably like that, sugar? You can’t stop now, i know it’s hard but it’ll be worth it in the end.

Meanspo

Dear You,

You’ve grown up being the “big” girl. You’ve grown up being the “I want seconds” girl. You entered college being the “let’s eat out because it’s easier” girl.

When will you be the “I eat healthy” girl? The “people can pick me up” girl? The “I love my body” girl?

Today? Oh, right, you say tomorrow. Funny, that’s what you said yesterday.

It’s YOUR fault you’re fat. You don’t control your fatty urges to binge and stuff your face. One day, you’ll regret that. And that day is TODAY. If you regret it, then make a change. Skip that meal. Eat less calories. Exercise and burn what you have consumed and stored from your past pathetic eating habits. Get rid of your fatty urges. BECOME SKINNY…Become beautiful. Because if you don’t start today, you’ll only hate yourself tomorrow… again.

Do it. Do it so you can wear cute short shorts without everyone looking at your thighs and being disgusted.

Do it for that bitch who always called you fat at middle school.

Do it for that fuckboy who never looked at you as girlfriend potencial.

Do it so you can be confident.No seriously you’ll never be confident with that big tummy dude.

Do it so you don't ALMOST DIE in fitting rooms.

Do it for the cute clothes.

Do it for the summer.

Do it for the pool parties and how all of your friends will be SHOOK at your perfect body.

Do it for that life little baby. You deserve it. You deserve so much happiness.

Imagine you’re sitting at your desk in your perfectly decorated bedroom. You’re doing school work (all A’s of course), and since the lighting is good, you stop studying for a second and take a selfie.

You notice your collarbones are perfectly peaking out, and your chest bones are slightly visible. You have no makeup on but you still look absolutely gorgeous. Your flawless skin (that you got from not eating junk food all the time) looks great on your camera. Your thin arms look especially toned in this picture, and your smile is unforgettable.

You decide to post it to Instagram, and it instantly gets likes and comments saying how gorgeous you look. You want to keep studying…but the amount of likes and attention is distracting!

You think to yourself “Amazing how my life has changed. 30lbs ago I barely got 30 likes. My grades were bad and I had horrible acne…it’s so great what being thin can do to a person”

One day I won’t have to suck in

One day I’ll sit down and not have belly rolls

One day my thighs won’t touch

One day I’ll be able to see my ribs

One day I’ll step on the scale and smile

One day I’ll be able to smile at my protruding collar bones

One day I’ll wear the clothes I want

One day I’ll be confident

One day I’ll be skinny

do it for the boy who leaves your snapchats at read. imagine how quickly he’ll reply when he sees how good you look in your new body. do it for the girls you envy, the girls who show up in crop tops and short shorts whilst you hide behind a baggy sweater. imagine how proud you’ll feel when you can finally wear what you want and look just as good, if not better than them. do it for the people who bullied you about your weight and the boys who turned you down because of it. watch them gawk and whisper among themselves at how much weight you’ve lost. do it for the mean girls, the ones that walk around school like they own the place, the ones who’s parties you never get invited to, the ones that all the boys want. prove yourself to them. soon they’ll notice you and you’ll be too proud to care. own your new found confidence, throw your own parties, feel wanted. do it for the boy you’ve been crushing on since the first time you met. make him want you just as you wanted him. laugh at yourself as he chases after you. watch him suffer just as you did. do it for the bikini you’ve never had the body to wear. make your old self proud. wear that bikini. finally feel good in it. go to the beach and the pool and show it off. it belongs on you. do it for yourself. do it for your own happiness and do it right now. you deserve this. it might take some time and maybe you’re growing impatient. but it’s okay, everything good takes time. so be safe, stay strong, and don’t give up. this will be worth the wait. trust me.

I literally cannot fucking wait until I’m thin. I can’t wait to not feel like the outsider in my friend group. I can’t wait to not feel like the ugly friend. I can’t wait to be as thin as my best friend and for people to not see me as a charity case. I can’t wait to be able to go shopping and not worry about what will hide my fat. I can’t wait to see my collarbones and feel great in shorts. I can’t wait to be able to post selfies confidently from any angle and get as many likes as all the thin girls from school. I can’t wait to be someone else’s thinspo. I can’t wait to be happy with myself. I can’t wait to be thin.

Okie lovey, I know you might have had a rough couple of days or maybe you’ve been doing everything right and you just need a little pick me up. That’s okay too. I’m here for you, maybe not there physically but I’m still here. Make some tea, and take a bath; while you’re in there light a few candles and take time for yourself. Paint your nails read a book or simply think about bettering yourself. You’re almost there, I’m so excited for you! I’m going to be there when you cross that finish line (UGW). Finished with tea? Are you hungry? No. Exactly, chin up sweetheart, you got this. I love you

10 Reasons I want to be Thin

1. A flat stomach looks so good in anything. 2. No more armpit fat. 3. Finally have a thigh gap (again). 4. Feel beautiful and in control 5. people you already know will ask you how you did it, new people you meet will fall in love with you. 6. Go on adventures and have fun without worrying about your fat jiggling around. 7. Tan outside or at the lake without wanting to die because you’re too fat for a bikini. 8. Going out to parties and making friends because you’re confident and beautiful. 9. Not wanting to cry every time you see your full body in a mirror/ reflection. 10. Not crying in general anymore. Finally being happy.

11 Reasons Why I'm Doing This

1. To be the skinny friend

2. So I can be lifted up and be called light

3. To wear anything and still look cute

4. To have pretty bones to show off

5. To hear those words; ‘Have you lost weight?’

6. To not feel guilty when having a sweet treat (occasionally!)

7. To wear tight jeans and not have a muffin top

8. To not want to cry every time I look in the mirror

9. To not feel embarrassed in a bikini or swimsuit

10. To sit on someone’s lap without fear of crushing them

11. To finally feel happy with myself

They are in the kitchen making dinner. It smells so good, and all you want to do is have some. But would that make you happy? Would that food actually do anything for you? Sure, it would taste good. But as soon as you swallow, it would be gone. You’d take a drink of water, and the taste would wash away. Five minutes of fun, and then you’d be full. Full of food, regret, hate, shame, and disgust. Today would be yet another day wasted. So go ahead, eat the food. Be the fat tub of lard you always have been. Or don’t. Don’t eat the food. Be a day closer to your goal.

The choice is yours.

[kiranogareru]

DON'T

WARNING: Angst, Bakusquad boys being assholes, violence, bullying, cursing, toxicity

A/N: 3rd person view, this is the first of a few one-shots to come, that will be improved versions of my old imagines on my Wattpad!

'Another day at my most favourite place, UA Hero Academy!' You thought sarcastically

Better known as another day of bullshit you have to endure...

You still don't have a clue how you made it through two years of this already, but it's not like it matters, as long as you are in one piece!

Your time here has been..eventful? Well that's that's one way to put it, for lack of a better word

You are walking to the cafeteria alone as per usual, praying you won't be noticed by them. Unfortunately they are already there, waiting for you to show up, like animals waiting patiently to pounce on their prey and even though the place is packed with students of all classes and departments, they somehow still spot you in the sea of people!

"Awww there she is!" Kaminari mocked using a 'cute' tone and grabbing you by the arm to bring you in the middle of the group

"You made us wait today, not manly at all!" Kirishima feigned sadness and hurt, placing a hand on his chest

"Don't be so hard on her guys. Maybe she forgot where we were meeting" Sero cooed, cupping your face with one hand and applying pressure

The look in his eyes made you uneasy, because you know exactly what is going to happen next. You've gotten used to it by now

"Today has been sooo boring" Kaminari complained

"But that's why Y/N is here man! To make our day better!" Kirishima cheers, balling up his fists and doing his signature pose

To anyone watching you, this seemed like nothing but a normal conversation, but you know better..

"You better get out of here, you damn idiots" Bakugou's voice grumbled from behind you

The words almost filled you with hope, making you momentarily forget who spoke them in the first place and making you feel like a fool for thinking that way

Bakugou was like a leading figure to these guys, so why would he put you above his friends?

If anything, he is only scolding them because there's too many eyes around and they don't want witnesses!

That thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. This is the next generation of heroes? It's just so hard to believe.. it's truly appalling!

Bakugou stayed behind 'most likely to avoid suspicion' you figured

The rest of the boys drag you outside, to a spot you have grown familiar with ever since you were a freshman. It's beside the main building, a place typically void of students or teachers!

They chose this place because they know they won't get in trouble, since this is also a blind spot for the cameras in this area!

Kirishima shoves you to the ground, which Sero takes as a sign to bind your hands and tape your mouth shut, so they can start playing their favourite game with you

A game they like to call "How long until Y/N breaks"

It doesn't take long for the first kick to fly straight to your abdomen, followed by another and a few more..they add a few punches here and there to switch up the pattern

They don't want this to get boring too quickly, of course not! They want to have fun with it..because this is their sick idea of 'fun'!

Kirishima rips the tape from your mouth, since it was starting to peal off with all the blood and spit that had started coating it!

You feel weak, you can't even activate you fucking quirk to try and defend youself! Everything hurts, but what the fuck can you really do at this point?

Hopelessness, defeat, they managed to beat into you, all the things you hate being! They have driven you to a point where you hate yourself, because of what they made you!

'How am I supposed to be a hero, if I can't even save my damn self?'

'I don't stand a chance against them anyway, they have made that very clear, since the first day we met and every time after that'

"Please stop!" You plead over and over, but there is no use however

"Why do you keep doing this?" You let out a pained cry, but the only response you get is in the form of more hits

They are treating you like a sand bag and you don't even know why. You wonder what you could have done to them to deserve this

At some point they stop and a wave of relief washes over you as you think this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

That illusion completely shatters when you hear the voice of someone you know all-too-well and realize why they stopped to begin with, but you don't have time to process anything else, because Bakugou knocks you out!

•••

Your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see being your boyfriend of nearly a year, Bakugou Katsuki!

You take in your surroundings and sit up.

'Was I brought to Recovery Girl?' You question yourself, as your right hand comes up to your head, due to a pounding headache

"Baby are you alright?" He asked, reaching his hand out to touch your cheek

"Don't" Your tone coming off quite threatening, while your fragile figure tries to get up

Your knees give out and Bakugou is quick to catch you and hold you up!

"I'm sorry baby!" He repeats the same words you've been hearing since you first started dating!

"Get the fuck off of me! Let go!" You demand, clawing at his exposed arms in an attempt to squirm out of his grip

He let's go of you and you get yourself back on the bed

He looks at you with so much sorrow in his crimson eyes, but all that does is vex you further, makes you hate him! You can't stand to even look at him anymore!

The sight of his face makes your stomach twist, his presence alone causing your blood to boil and your knuckles to ache for some action!

You're barely able to hold back right now, because looking at him has suddenly become a reminder of an agreement he convinced you to make..

His lips part, but before he can utter another disgusting, half-assed apology, you shut him up!

"No more apologies Katsuki, no more fucking lies, I don't wanna hear it anymore! I've really had enough! I just can't take it!" You stated in an ice-cold manner

"I'm sorry ok?! I couldn't do anything, it's not up to me, I can't tell them what to do! Yes, they look up to me, but I can't control them!"

Can he not hear what bullshit is coming out of him mouth? Can he not hear himself right now?

This is the only thing going through your head at the moment

"I can't stop all of a sudden, they can't know we're dating!" Katsuki says, directing his gaze to the floor

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Without a second thought your hand makes contact with his cheek, the smack echoing throughout the room

A visible, red patch in the shape of your palm forms, as he lifts his head up to meet your burning gaze once more. His expression holds complete and utter disbelief!

"You said that once we got together this would stop, you promised, but it seems like you don't want it to stop! Are you enjoying it Bakugou? Do you get off at the sight of me breaking?" You asked , well aware of the fact that you're not ready for his answer, but wanting to hear it nevertheless

"I swear I will talk to them, I just need a little more time and then-!" You cut his rambling short

"It's always the same shit with you! Spewing fake promises! This time it won't work Bakugou, I don't have the strength to do this anymore! And I don't want to waste my love and time on someone who beats me so people don't associate me with him, someone who goes to this extent so he won't be seen with me!" You confess

"I'll chan-"

"Don't say it, because it's not true and you know that! You always tell me you'll change, but you don't even try!"

"I don't enjoy seeing you in pain, I just can't stop! I've been doing this for so long, I don't know how to be anything else. But I never meant to hurt you!" He finally answered your question

"If you don't want to hurt me, you'll leave me alone! I want to be away from this so called 'relationship', it's not healthy! I need a break!" You reason

"It's not a break if you never come back to me..it's a break up!" He lowers his head once more, hair falling over his eyes, as he speaks calmly

"Come back to you? As if" You scoff, laughing out

He doesn't dare speak, he is simply staring at you, with shocked, red orbs!

"You should have stayed with the League of Villains when you had the chance! That's where 'heroes' like you belong!" You eyes shoot daggers at him,

"Now get the fuck out, you Sludge-Bastard!" You demand, using the name he hates even more than the one Midoriya calls him

He is in tears, as he leaves the school's infirmary

It isn't so much because things ended between you as it is the weight of your words!

Bakugou processes what just happened, wearing a blank expression, while he walks through the halls of UA, tears still streaming freely!

Seems like he put a lot of thought into what you told him, because the next thing you know, a new villian makes his debut

[griffxnnage]

for better or for worse || g.w

general taglist: @chaoswalkinq  @nerdyblogger06 @wand3ringr0s3 -> you can send me an ask, shoot me a dm or comment on this post if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

request: hello! i was wondering if you could write a george weasley x fem!asian!reader imagine where she’s feeling insecure about her body because she has bigger thighs and hips compared to most asian girls (which is looked down on in asian culture) and george comforts her. (there was also an anon who wanted something along the lines of this!)

pairing: george weasley x fem!asian!reader

word count: 1451

warnings: body insecurity, language, mentions of a bad family relationship (very brief), a bit of angst?

a/n: ok, i’m so sorry this took forever, but i hope you like it!! please go drink some water and eat something if you haven’t yet!! <33

Looking in the steamy mirror at my wet, naked body made me feel sick. I hated looking at it, but it was like a trainwreck; I couldn't ever look away. I looked at the excess of flesh around my whole body, the stretch marks that seemed to scream, ‘Look at me!!’ on my inner thighs, my hips, my tummy and my boobs. I turned around and saw the tiger stripes creeping around my bum and the undersides of my arms. ‘Fucking disgusting,’  That little voice in my head sneered.

This was the routine after every shower; I’d look in the mirror and be disgusted by my own body, wanting it to just vanish, but it never did. It just stayed there, stretchmarks, hip dips, cellulite and all. It just was, and there was nothing I could do about it. My family never said anything about me being heavier than the average swimsuit model, but their disgusted glances confirmed their disdain for me and my ‘flab’.

“Y/N? Why are you taking so long in there? Ooh, are you doing your makeup nice and fancy?” I heard muffled George’s voice float under the crack of the door, snapping me out of my trance. “No, no, Georgie, just drying my hair real quick.” I quickly wrapped a towel around my body and set to getting ready for the day. There really wasn’t that much to do; it was a weekend, and Fred was taking care of the shop today, so George would be home all day.

“There’s my beautiful girlfriend, c’mere,” George smiled, lifting up his arms and making grabby hands at me, lying on the bed with the sheets coming up to his waist, exposing his chiseled chest. I smiled at his adorable nature, a side only I got to see, really. He wasn’t this vulnerable with anyone else to my knowledge, and that was one of the many things I loved about him.

“I said, c’mere!!” The grabby hands intensified, and a pout formed on his face. “Gimme my cuddles, love,” Oh, and there went the furrowed brows. “I’m on my way, Georgie, just gimme a minute!” I hurriedly got one of his old t-shirt’s and some pajama shorts and got into bed with him, snuggling up nice and close. 

“Hey, baby, how are you?” He whispered against my hair, pressing a small kiss into my head. I swallowed and lied, “I’m ok, how are you?”

He looked down at me lying on his chest, and took my chin in hand, and made me look at him. “Darling, what’s wrong?” He looked at me with those gorgeous brown eyes of his, the eyes I got lost in so many times, the eyes that seemed to be staring at the very center of me.

“It’s ok, love, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Those eyes searched my face, trying to read the emotions I was feeling. I was always very open with him, so he could read me like a book.

“George,” I murmured, sitting up so I could look at him properly. “Do you think I’m pretty?” It was such a vain question, but at the moment, I just felt like it had to be asked. 

“Darling, Y/N, why do you even have to ask that? You are the most gorgeous person I've ever laid eyes on. Do you want me to list off each of your stunning features?” He looked shocked when the sentence left my lips, and he looked ready to start a fight with whoever put those thoughts in my head.

“First off, your eyes. They were the first thing I noticed about you. The way they slant up and just ensnare anyone and everyone reeled me in, and I was hooked on gazing into them ever since I first made eye contact with you. Next, your beautiful face. What’s not to love? You’re the most dazzling person ever, and it makes me so sad that you don’t know it.” His words were bringing tears to my eyes; I had no idea he thought about me this way.

“And now if we travel a bit lower, you’ll find two of the most luscious pillows I’ve ever come in contact with,” He winked at me, causing my face to heat up immensely. “And just a little further down, you got another amazing pillow, that seems to move a lot whenever I do…” He stuck his cold hands under my (his) t-shirt and tickled my belly, something he knew I could never resist. A fit of giggles ensued for both of us, until I called ‘Time out!!” on the account that air was becoming hard to come by. 

After both of us cooled down, George continued his list of things, something I’d kind of wished he’d forgotten about. “And folks, if you just look over here, you’ll find the thickest thighs and the most beautiful hips you’ll ever darn see,” He giggled, totally thinking he’s the funniest guy in the world. I whined when he started poking at my thighs; they were the thing I hated most. He knew this, but apparently he wanted me to know he loved them, and he only stopped when he started kissing small kisses on my knees, and then began trailing up along my inner thigh, causing my whines to grow a bit quieter, but my breath to quicken.

His eyes were locked with mine as he slowly crawled up my body, making my face and chest heat up again; I cursed myself for being so entranced by him. He continued kissing up my body, stopping when he made it to my boobs, giving them a little more attention than everywhere else, which didn’t go unnoticed by me, and elicited giggles from the both of us again.

When he made it all the way back up, his eyes flitted back and forth between my lips and my eyes. “Y/N, I love you with every fibre of my being. You are the single most beautiful, kind, funny, smart and loving person I know, and I wouldn’t change anything about you, physically or in any other way. I love you for you, and I want you, as you are.”

I couldn’t do anything but fall even more deeply in love with him and bawl my eyes out. Another thing about George is that if he sees someone crying or getting emotional, especially someone he loves, he starts crying too. His empathy is another thing I adore about him. 

“Georgie, what did I do to deserve you?” I gasped, flinging my arms around his neck and pulling him close, inadvertently on top of me, and squashing me. I didn’t care though; I wanted to hold him as close as possible for as long as possible. “I was about to ask you the same question, love,” He buried his face in my neck, pressing small, sweet kisses into my shoulder and collarbone.

From where he was, he whispered against my neck, “I regret nothing that we’ve ever done together. I’ve loved every second of it, and I intend on making a trillion more amazing memories with you. I want to follow you to the ends of the earth, I want to be there for you when you’re feeling low, I want to share those moments when you’re elated. I want to be with you every step of the way, good or bad. You could say, for better or for worse, but I don’t think we’re ready for that, quite yet.” 

I could feel him smirking against my skin, and I just held him closer, I don’t know how I did, but it happened. If we’d been any closer, we would have become one being, just composed of love and nothing else. 

“I love you, so so much, George Weasley.” I whispered in his ear, stroking his hair and running it through my fingers, an action that had become second-nature to me over the course of our relationship. “I was about to say the same thing, love. Stop finishing my sentences, ugh,” He giggled into my skin, shaking his head to tickle me with his nose. “Georgie!!” I yelped, my neck always sensitive.

And yet another tickle fight followed, but this time, the thoughts of our future filled our heads, and only made our love grow ever so much stronger. 

“Hey, Georgie, about that ‘for better or for worse’ thing.” I stopped tickling his neck to gaze up at him. “That sounds like the best damn thing in the world!” I smiled so wide it hurt, and his face mirrored mine. 

“I’m glad you think so darling, because I wanted to ask you a question…”

[hockeylvr59]

Honest Love || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: And we’re off...What better way to celebrate this man’s birthday than with the first chapter of the sequel??? We’re backtracking a little bit to cover the gap I purposely created so this picks up right after part 24 of Secret Love. We’re going to see a little more of Cale’s POV here in the sequel (***** will be your signal of a switch in viewpoints) and I hope you enjoy that additional insight into this relationship that I am head over heels in love with. Quick shoutout to @nazdaddy​ for the necklace jewelry concept...it didn’t get used before but I didn’t forget about it. I think that’s all I’ve got...let me know what you think. 

Gif Credit: @samgirard​

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3,385

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was shortly after noon when you pulled into the parking lot of the Avs practice facility. You were tired but beyond relieved to have finally reached Denver after a combined sixteen hours in the car over the past two days. Climbing out of the car you stretched, grateful that you had less than half an hour driving left in you after your little detour.

Walking down the hallways of the practice rink, you smiled at the sound of skates on ice as they slowly grew louder. Having been given directions, it wasn’t long before you found yourself standing at the end of the hallway right beside the benches. For a few minutes, you watched the players perform an offensive drill, quickly spotting your boyfriend moving across the ice. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he spotted you as well and after finishing the drill, he skated over, reaching into the bench area. Finding what he was looking for, he continued along, greeting you with a quick kiss as he dropped the item into your open hand. 

“Talk later.” He promised, stealing one more quick kiss before skating away to the sound of his teammates’ chirps. 

“Hey, Makar...if you wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask.” EJ ribbed, shoving Cale gently. 

“Yeah...pay attention.” Nate teased. “I know we’re not as pretty as your girl but…”

“Don’t tell me you dragged her down here just to help you settle in,” Gabe stated, leaning on his stick as he shook his head at the former rookie. 

“Fuck off.” Cale groaned peeking over at you. “I had to get her an apartment key okay. You know...so she can actually move in.” Even from across the rink you could see that his cheeks were flushed and his dimples were on full display as he spoke. His words caused whoops to spill from his teammates’ lips and after watching Cale jostle with them for a few minutes, you shook your head before finally heading back out to the car. 

By the time you pulled into the underground lot of Cale’s…your building, you were ready to go upstairs and just crawl into bed for a nap. Gathering up your purse, overnight bag, and one of the smaller boxes, you locked the car and headed upstairs, letting yourself inside the apartment you now shared with your boyfriend. 

As you turned to head into the main living area, your eyes immediately landed on the ‘welcome home’ banner hanging above the island. Beneath it, a beautiful bouquet of roses was placed next to a bottle of your favorite wine and a small box. Setting your things down, you pulled the small card out of the bouquet, your eyes taking in Cale’s scratchy writing. 

Welcome home beautiful. 

I love you and am so grateful you agreed to move in with me. 

Cale

Again...Cale was just too much and you hadn’t even opened the small box yet. Gingerly picking it up, you cracked the lid open and your eyes went wide. Inside was a teardrop-shaped pendant with a practically flawless opal surrounded by tiny diamonds. This was way way too much but you knew Cale would refuse to take it back. He’d insist that you were doing so much for him that you deserved to be spoiled a little. And it didn’t pass your notice that he’d picked an opal...his birthstone. 

Popping the bottle of wine in the fridge, you gathered up the necklace along with your overnight bag and the box and made your way through to the bedroom. There you found post-its attached to all of the drawers Cale had emptied for you, including one of the two bedside tables. Even though he’d only been in town for a day and a half longer, he’d already gone to great lengths to ensure that you were able to transition into the space as easily as possible. 

Unpacking the few items you’d already brought up, you settled onto the couch for a few minutes just needing to take a breath. This was big...and it would take some time before this place felt like your own. Dozing off, you jolted awake at the sound of the apartment door hitting the doorstop. 

“Hey sweetheart, I dragged Josty with me to come help unload boxes and Calvy tagged along...where are your car keys?” When Cale finally appeared in front of you he clearly noticed your groggy state and immediately the volume of his voice dropped. “Sorry...I woke you didn’t I?” 

“Guess I dozed off.” You admitted, blinking a few times and yawning as you pushed yourself to your feet. “Keys are on the island.” You declared, pointing in their general direction. 

“Hi.” Cale grinned, kissing you again before pulling away to snatch the keys. “Don’t worry about lifting a finger, we’ve got the rest.” He insisted. 

A few minutes later, the three men were dropping boxes off in the living room while you stood looking out the window, taking in your new surroundings. 

“Thanks, guys,” You declared, looking back over your shoulder. 

“No worries.” Tyson insisted. “I live in the building anyway so it’s not really out of my way at all.” 

“And I wanted to meet the woman Cale can’t shut up about.” Matt declared, offering his hand out to shake. “Courtney and I would love to have you and Cale over for dinner sometime next week, I know she’s looking forward to meeting you as well.” 

“That would be great.” You agreed. You knew how close Cale had become with the Calvert’s during those first two playoff series and as much as they were looking forward to meeting you, you were looking forward to meeting them. 

“Well, we’ll let you get settled in, Cale explained that you’ve spent most of the last two days in the car, so I’m sure you just want to get unpacked and spend some time with him. We’ll see you at the team cookout tomorrow.” Matt declared and your eyes went wide at the end of his statement. As you looked over at Cale, Matt tugged Tyson out of the apartment, an unintelligible mumble falling from the younger man’s mouth as they went. 

“Yeah...uh...didn’t get the chance to mention that yet.” Cale declared rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “Mel and Gabe are having everyone over tomorrow. Mandatory start of the season thing.” 

“We’re diving straight into things aren’t we?” You whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry.” Cale murmured. “You don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling up to it, I know everyone would understand.” 

“Cale it’s fine.” You insisted. “Just caught me a little off guard. It’ll be nice to meet everyone right away.” Cale eyed you skeptically before moving closer, his hands settling onto your hips. 

“If you're sure.” He breathed. “Now can we say a proper hello? I missed you, hopefully the drive wasn’t too bad.” 

“It was okay.” You shrugged. “Long.” Trailing your hands up to the back of his neck, you pulled him into a kiss that lingered, your body relaxing immediately under his touch. “How about we let these boxes sit for now and you come take a nap with me?” You suggested, a soft shriek spilling forth as Cale scooped you up and carried you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

“A nap it is.” He agreed, laying you down before toeing off his shoes and sliding under the covers beside you. The moment his warm hand slid along your bare hip, you felt your eyes fall shut, sleep taking over quickly. The bed may be different, but sleeping beside Cale...that was home. 

________

Having spent most of the previous night in bed with Cale, you didn’t have the opportunity to touch the boxes until the following morning. Unpacking led to stressing over what to wear to this cookout and before you knew it Cale was tossing a t-shirt and shorts at you insisting that anything you wore would be perfect. 

The driveway at the Landeskog residence was empty when Cale pulled in 45 minutes later and you looked over at him.

“How early are we?” You questioned, knowing smirk on your lips. 

“Fifteen...maybe twenty minutes.” Cale replied, sheepishly. Flicking his shoulder, you climbed out of the car. 

“My punctual boyfriend.” You declared, following after Cale as he headed up the front path, knocking on the door. It only took a minute for Gabe to answer and when he did he immediately seemed relieved by your early arrival. 

“Great timing...I need help with…” You had barely stepped foot in the house before Gabe was pulling Cale away, his voice falling off. Assuming, probably correctly, that you weren’t getting your boyfriend back any time soon, you continued through the house finding Mel in the kitchen. 

“So Cale doesn’t know how to not be early, and Gabe already stole him so is there anything I can help with?” You questioned, your hands tucked into your pockets as you waited to draw Mel’s attention. 

“Oh my god!” Mel declared, immediately stopping what she was doing. “First...I am so happy you’re here. When Gabe said Cale had asked you to move to Denver I was over the moon.” Rinsing and drying her hands, Mel immediately came to wrap you in a quick hug. “Second...would you mind watching Linnea...she’s starting to get a little restless I think.” 

You’d somehow completely missed the playpen in the corner with Linnea in it, the infant attempting to pull herself to her feet as she whined for attention. 

“Of course.” You agreed. “Not a problem at all.” Seeing Zoey laying on the floor with a ball beside her, you moved closer to the playpen. “Hey Linnea...why don’t we go outside and throw a ball for Zoey.” Your tone softened as you talked to the baby girl, but not to the extent that it would be considered ‘baby talk’. 

With Linnea smiling her mostly toothless grin up at you, you lifted her out of the playpen and onto your hip. 

“C’mon Zoey. Let’s go outside.” You declared, smiling back at Mel as she mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’. After sliding through the backdoor, you headed down the porch steps and into the grass, settling yourself down on the ground, Linnea between your thighs. As you helped Linnea throw the ball for Zoey, it was easy to lose yourself in the sound of Zoey’s playful prance and Linnea’s sweet giggle.

*****

Cale grunted softly as he adjusted the cooler in his arms to open the back gate of his captain’s yard. Of course Gabe didn’t do this the easy way...no he had to fill the coolers with ice and drinks before moving them into the backyard. There was definitely a lapse in common sense there. 

As the gate swung open, Cale froze in place, his eyes taking in the sight across the yard. He was jolted forward when Gabe bumped into him from behind but not even that could pull his eyes away. 

“Dude...what the hell?” Gabe mumbled. “Oh…” 

Cale could feel the heat flooding his cheeks as his heart started racing like he’d just skated a dozen laps. Just when he thought Y/N couldn’t possibly become more attractive to him she went and proved him wrong. Because there she was, dressed in the clothes he had picked with the necklace and bracelet he’d given her resting against her skin. Her hands were wrapped around his captain’s daughter’s hips as Linnea giggled loudly, bouncing up and down on her chubby little legs. The way she held the baby, the way she spoke softly to Linnea, the way Linnea reacted to her presence...it made Cale’s throat go dry and stole the breath from his lungs. 

It had been four months since they’d talked about kids, four months since he’d really thought about having kids. Cale knew that it was absolutely something he wanted someday and that she was the only person he wanted to have kids with. But now...now ‘someday’ seemed too far away. Now...for the first time he didn’t have to imagine what Y/N would be like as a mom and a part of him was screaming loudly that that was what he wanted...no needed. Now he knew without question that as soon as he put a ring on her finger he was going to also try and put a baby in her belly. His baby. Their baby. 

“If you’re going to stand there staring at her...maybe at least move so you aren’t blocking the gate.” Gabe’s chuckle snapped Cale from his daze and his cheeks flushed further as he moved just a step forward, his eyes landing back on his girlfriend as she cradled Linnea against her shoulder, her hand rubbing up and down the baby’s back. 

“Should we tell Joe to prep the ELCs for those mini Makars you’re gonna have her popping out soon?” Gabe teased, knowing look on his face. Suddenly, the weight of the cooler and the way his muscles were straining registered again and Cale moved to set it down near the porch steps. When he didn’t react to Gabe’s statement, the captain’s face turned serious. “Wait seriously...you’re actually thinking about it.” Gabe murmured softly. 

“Thinking about what?” EJ’s booming voice asked as he and Nate came in through the back gate. 

“Calesy here is thinking about knocking his girlfriend up.” Gabe replied, looking over his shoulder to where Y/N had disappeared with Linnea just a moment before. Sounds of disbelief fell from his teammates’ mouths and Cale rubbed at the back of his neck shrugging. 

“It’s not like we haven’t talked about it before.” He admitted. 

“You’re what...four months in and you’ve talked about kids?” Nate prompted. 

“We talked about them the day we got together. It’s not like we were strangers guys.” Cale defended, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So yeah I’m thinking about it. She’s spent most of her life waiting for me...I don’t want to make her wait too long. Maybe we’ll start trying come end of the season.” 

“Well look at you growing up.” Gabe declared. “She’s the one isn’t she? You’re way more confident than when we last saw you.” 

“She’s absolutely the one.” Cale agreed. “Now what else did you need help with?” No one fought him as Cale changed the subject and headed back toward the garage, making a mental note to get better at masking his expressions when it came to his feelings for Y/N. 

*****

You’d laid Linnea down for a nap after she’d fallen asleep on you outside and then had been promptly pulled into a house tour by Mel since you hadn’t seen it before. By the time you made your way back outside with a glass of wine in hand, you found Cale sitting at the table on the patio, a beer in hand as he listened to the guys share stories of their summers. 

Sliding your palm down along his chest, you leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Linnea wants you to know you have good taste in jewelry.” You whispered softly, smiling as his head tilted up to look at you, his eyebrows raised. “She liked the way the sun reflected off of my necklace. She fiddled with it until she zonked out.” Cale’s hum of approval and recognition was soft as he scooted back, seamlessly pulling you down onto his lap. 

There you stayed, Cale’s chin on your shoulder as more and more of Cale’s teammates and their families arrived. As soon as the Calverts arrived, Cale was immediately summoned by Kasey to play and you watched as your boyfriend chased after the four-year-old. This was the first time you had seen him with kids in quite awhile and it only reaffirmed how great of a dad he would be when he decided he was ready to take that step. 

Having finished your glass of wine, you moved to take it inside so that it didn’t get broken. As you reached the kitchen, you saw Mel and one of the other women fawning over something on a cell phone. 

“Oh, Y/N, perfect timing.” Mel declared. “There’s something I think you should see.” 

You took the phone from her, pressing play on a video. Mel must have snuck outside earlier without you noticing because you watched as Zoey trotted over with a ball before racing off again as Linnea tossed it for her. Hearing yourself praise Linnea for her strong throw was slightly odd but as the camera followed Zoey as she chased the ball your eyes fell to the background. Cale was standing there with a cooler in his hands and even with the focus slightly blurred you could see that his cheeks were flushed and the expression on his face was one that was unfamiliar to you. 

Handing the phone back, your mind raced, trying to figure out what Cale had been thinking. There were bits and pieces of emotions you recognized: love, awe, joy; but all together it added up to something unreadable. 

“Should we uh...be expecting any more big changes in Cale’s off-ice life soon?” The other woman questioned, an almost knowing look on her face. Your brain finally placed her as Matt’s wife Courtney but it wasn’t quite fast enough to pick up on what she could possibly be referring to. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You deflected. 

“You mean it doesn’t look like he wants to get you pregnant as soon as possible?” Mel chimed in. “Because that’s all I see. Cale saw you with my baby and he gets that look on his face...he wants to make you a mom, no doubt in my mind.” Swallowing hard, you moved to finally set your glass in the sink. 

“He’s not ready for kids yet. We’ve talked about it.” You explained. “We’re just focused on us right now. We’ve only been together for a few months.” Thankfully, one of the guys walked into the kitchen allowing you to slip back outside. You’d planned on grabbing a water but after that conversation you definitely needed something a little bit stronger. Flopping down on the steps with a wine cooler in hand, you watched as Cale played spike ball with Tyson, Nate, and Burky. Immediately your conversation back in May came to mind and you thought about how Cale had said he didn’t think he’d be so scared about having a baby if the situation was right. That didn’t mean he wanted kids in the short-term or that he was even ready to start thinking about it. But then again...you hadn’t been able to place the look on his face which was abnormal so maybe there was a grain of truth to Mel and Courtney’s presumptions. 

“You look puzzled...everything okay?” Cale’s smooth voice pulled you out of the rabbit hole you’d found yourself in and you looked up at him amazed at how one look settled all of the uneasiness inside you. Cale would let you know whether he wanted kids when he was ready, there was no need to dwell or worry about it now. Kissing him gently, you nodded, letting him pull you up onto your feet. 

“Everything is good.” You assured him. “Just needed a minute.” With Cale’s hand rubbing against your lower back you let him convince you to go get your asses kicked by Sam Girard and his girlfriend at cornhole. It was fun, especially when you made Sam throw backward because he was just too good otherwise. 

By the time you finished your best of three series, the food was ready and you made up a plate, settling in beside Cale on the steps as you ate. After dinner the two of you bowed out because your eyes had started to droop from fatigue. Though the guys chirped him, Cale kept his focus on you until you had slipped into the passenger seat of the car. 

Adjusting to life in Denver was going to take some time for sure. But you were confident it would be worth it because Cale was definitely worth it. 

Welcome Home Gifts:

Cookout Outfit:

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Witchcraft does not reward shitty intentions

Hello, I am a day late with my mythological creatures AU, oh noooooo. Also, I had this filed in my brain as a love potion story and it took me way longer than it should have to realize that there isn’t actually a love potion in it. 

Read it on AO3!

Steve handed him his movies and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Then he closed it again.

"Spit it out, Bambi," Billy said. Steve stared at him for a minute, glancing around to make sure Billy was the only customer at Family Video.

"I just wanted you to know that it's not your fault," he finally said tentatively. Billy thought about all the things Steve could be referring to and decided he needed more specifics.

"What are you talking about?"

"The...thing. The attraction thing." Steve gestured between them. "It's not your fault." Steve sighed as Billy's eyes narrowed. "I'm not trying to make this weird. I just...I've seen how you look at me sometimes, and I wanted you to know that it's not you. It's me." Billy decided to ignore the fear in the pit of his stomach at the idea that Steve had apparently caught him looking. Neil was gone, he reminded himself. Sure, his first impulse was to shove Steve against a wall until he promised never to say shit like that again, but he suppressed it. He wanted to know what the fuck Steve was talking about.  

"Still not following, princess."

"I was cursed. By a witch. So people are, you know, attracted to me." Billy stared at him.

"And that's a curse because..." he prompted.

"Oh, the curse is that everyone is attracted to me, but no one can truly love me until the curse is broken." Steve seemed remarkably cavalier about it. Billy just stared at him again.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, still lost. This was not a conversation he had been expecting to have--ever, really--so it was taking him a minute to catch up.  Steve sighed again.

"I was kind of a shallow dick at the beginning of high school. Someone in our graduating class didn't like it, so she cursed me to experience the shallowest possible expression of love until someone comes along who feels strongly enough about me to break the curse."

"What does that even mean? And how will you know that the curse is broken?"

"Great questions," Steve said. "Unfortunately, the witch in question is still a little vague on the details." He raised his voice throughout the sentence until he was practically yelling the last part. Robin came of the back room and Steve played up glaring at her.

"Wait, Robin is the one who cursed you?" Billy asked. That seemed harsh, even for Robin, who could be absolutely savage sometimes. Also, she was Steve's best friend. Robin grimaced and threw up her hands, already defensive.

"Ugh, we're talking about this? Again? First of all, part of Steve's whole attraction deal is definitely the Fae thing, so you can't put all of that on me. Furthermore, I was sixteen and the girl I liked wouldn't stop looking at him, and we weren't friends yet, and I thought he was just a stupid dickhead jock!" Her gaze went to Steve and her tone was a little gentler, though still exasperated. "How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry?" Steve just shrugged. Billy looked from Robin to Steve and back.

"Okay, first of all, I have never heard about any of this so, yeah, we are definitely talking about it," Billy said. "And secondly, you made it so that Harrington can't experience love, Buckley. That's a lot of apologizing."

"Oh, that is rich coming from the dude who almost beat Steve to death approximately five minutes after arriving in Hawkins," Robin shot back. It wasn't exactly an unfair point, but Billy wasn't going to say that. He stared her down instead.

"Billy already apologized for that. And it was a long time ago," Steve said generously. Steve also generously did not mention that Billy had gotten so choked up he could barely finish the apology, and that he had spent the entire second semester of that year helping Steve with his homework without Steve asking him to. Billy also still sometimes shoveled the walk in front of Steve's apartment in the winter, and he showed up periodically to do maintenance on Steve's car. He was reminded of his guilt every time he saw the scar at Steve's hairline, was all. He definitely wasn't just looking for excuses to spend time with, or in the general vicinity of, Steve. Also, none of that was the point right now because it turned out that Robin had also fucked Steve over. And furthermore, what the fuck was the Fae thing?

"He can't. Experience. Love," Billy repeated. Jesus, Steve deserved better friends. "And also, what the fuck is the Fae thing?"  

"Steve's mom is Fae," Robin said. "And you're always so fucking dramatic. He can experience love," she insisted, but she sounded a little uncertain. "He falls in love all the fucking time."

"Yeah, but no one's ever going to love me back until the curse is over," Steve sighed. He leaned on the counter, looking a little forlorn.

"Every curse can be broken," Robin said stubbornly. "I just wasn't very detailed about the wording of this one."

"And that's important because..." Billy prompted. He let the Fae thing slide for now. That revelation felt like it warranted an entirely separate conversation. Robin sighed.

"Like I said, every curse can be broken. Typically, an experienced witch will build the conditions for breaking the curse into the spell itself. Said witch will be as specific as possible, to ensure that the conditions are actually met before the curse is broken. If, hypothetically speaking, you have an inexperienced witch who used the wording from a spell template she found on the internet, you get stuck with something vague like 'the curse will be broken when the power of love outweighs the power of the curse.'"

"Ok, so someone just has to love Steve more than you were mad at him when you cursed him. And, one more time, how will you know when the curse is broken?" Robin winced a little.

"There's usually some kind of indication?" It was much more a question than it was a statement.

"I take it that's another thing that is usually covered in the initial spell."

"Yep," Robin said, staring intently at the floor. There was a long silence, and she finally looked up at Steve. "If it helps, I think that curse is probably the reason my love life is a complete disaster. Witchcraft does not reward shitty intentions, even if you're cursing a stupid jock with dumb hair who, at one time, almost definitely deserved it." Steve stared at her, visibly suppressing a smile. 

"That's a really touching apology, Robin."

"Shut up, dingus." She nudged him with her elbow and he nudged her back. Now they were both suppressing little grins.

"I can't believe you're both just fine with this," Billy said, staring at them. He knew he was irrationally angry, but he had a nagging feeling that he had been personally wronged by this entire situation. He chose not to think too hard about why that was. Robin narrowed her eyes at him.

"I tried to lift the curse a bunch of times," she said. "I can't do it. Probably because it was such a shitty spell to start with." She sighed. "At this point I'm worried that if I keep trying, I'll just make it worse." Steve shrugged.

"It's okay. It's not like it changed my life all that much in the first place." Billy's eyes narrowed at the hint of bitterness in Steve's tone. "Besides, it's not like I can do much about it now. Except wait and see if someone ever falls in love with me hard enough to break it." Steve's tone had turned wistful, and he had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Someone will," Robin said quietly. She bumped her shoulder against Steve's and smiled at him. "I know they will, dingus." Steve appeared to come back to himself a little bit. He stood straighter at the counter.

"Anyway," he said to Billy, "I just wanted you to know that it's not you, it's me. And it will fade with time. It always does." He gave Billy a reassuring smile, seemingly unaware of how fucking sad that sounded. Billy stared at him for a long moment, thinking hard. Then he smiled back, a little wolfish.

"Thanks, Harrington. That is good to know." He gave the two of them a little salute and then took his movies and walked out of Family Video.

Billy got in his car, but he didn't start it immediately. Instead he sat there, staring into space. Steve was wrong, obviously; that wasn't even a question. If the only thing Billy felt for Steve Harrington was attraction, his life would be significantly easier. He knew what to do about that. Hell, he probably would have already done it, and he thought Steve probably would have been into it; Billy hadn't been the only one looking for a while now. The problem was that he wanted to hold Steve's hand and gaze into his stupid doe eyes almost as much as he wanted to lick him all over, and Billy didn't have the first fucking clue what to do about that.

It was three weeks later when Robin cornered Billy at the auto shop. His behavior toward Steve hadn’t changed, and sometimes he thought he saw a hint of wistfulness in Steve’s expression when Billy flirted with him. Like maybe he was a little hopeful. Mostly, though, he seemed resigned. A little sad. Robin watched their interactions with sharp, knowing eyes, and Billy wasn’t exactly surprised to find her waiting for him after a long shift on a windy, overcast Wednesday.

Robin’s eyes stayed on him as he approached, and then she glanced down at his pendant.

“You never take that off?” she asked. He was caught a little off guard. He hadn’t expected her to open with that. Or to ask about it at all.

“No," he said, suspicious. "My mom told me to always leave it on,” he added, not sure why he was volunteering information except that Robin occasionally reminded him a little bit of his mom. Something in her affect, maybe. Robin nodded, like his mom's insistence on it made sense to her for some reason. She pushed off the side of his car and waited for him to unlock it.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Go where?” he asked warily.

“My parents' house.”

“Why would I do that?” They weren’t exactly friends, despite all the time Billy spent at Family Video. Robin’s grin was sharp.

“Because I have a theory,” she said.

“Still not hearing anything about why I would want to do this.” Her grin widened.

“Do you want a shot at Steve Harrington or not?” she asked. Billy stared at her for just a second too long without responding, and her eyes sparkled, and then it was too late to do anything but get in the car and let her in the passenger side.

“Steve is cursed, remember?” His tone was acidic as he tried to regain the upper hand.

“He is,” she agreed, “but that might be less of a problem than we thought.” He glanced over at her and then back at the road. It came to him all at once, and suddenly he felt a lot less off-balance.

“You think I'm going to fix this for you,” he said quietly. Robin’s smile vanished and there was a long silence.

“Maybe. Kind of,” she admitted. “But not in the way that you’re thinking.” He glanced over again and cocked an eyebrow.

“Spit it out, Buckley,” he prompted when she didn’t elaborate. She shook her head.

“I’d rather show you when we get there,” she said. “You’ll never believe me otherwise.” He frowned at her, but didn’t argue. He could indulge her for a little while.

When they pulled up in front of her parents' house, Robin didn’t get out of the car right away. She stared up at the gabled  roof of the house instead.

“I don’t take it lightly, you know,” she finally said. She was still staring out the window. She didn’t look at Billy. “I was young and stupid and scared and it wasn’t Steve’s fault I felt that way, but it felt like it was. I did something terrible and I haven’t been able to fix it and it kills me how nice he is about it.” She turned to look at Billy and her eyes were dry, but he could see the emotion there. "I imagine you can relate," she said drily. Then she narrowed her eyes at him, calculating. “I really expected you to be a dick about it. I thought you’d find it so funny that King Steve was totally fucked when it came to love, but you didn’t look amused at all.” Robin’s eyes were intent on Billy. “You looked surprised and then angry, which was interesting. So I started paying more attention to you.” Billy stared at her, torn between anger and fear. Someone paying close attention to his life had not, historically, ended well for him. She must have seen it on his face. “Easy, big guy,” she said. “I’m not threatening you. In fact, I think I can help you.” Yeah. He’d heard that before. But Robin thought he could help Steve, maybe, and that was worth something. He sighed.

“So this theory.” Her smile was bright.

“Follow me.”

They ended up in an attic room at the very top of the house. The floor was bare wood with intricate designs painted on it. Billy thought they were chalk at first, but they didn’t smudge when Robin walked over them. Billy felt a tingle at the back of his neck when Robin closed the door, and then his ears popped. He looked sharply at Robin, who nodded to herself.

“Ok, so I need you to take off your necklace.”

“We literally just covered this; I don't take it off.” She was nodding.

"I know. But we're in a magically sealed room with very solid wards, so whatever your mom was protecting you from can't get to you here." She leaned closer, eyes on his pendant. She held a hand over it, not quite touching, but close enough to make him a little wary. "No, not protecting," she murmured, largely to herself. Her eyes went a little wide and came up to Billy's. "This isn't a protection spell. It's a concealment spell. A major one." Billy felt an echo of something familiar in her words, and it was deeply unsettling. He tried to keep the waver out of his voice when he spoke.

"What are you talking about, Buckley?" She straightened up and sighed.

"Again, it would be easier to show you." He just stared at her, stubborn. She rolled her eyes.

"Ok, fine. Your pendant is absolutely saturated with power. Fortunately for you, the only people you hang out with who are likely to notice are me, because witch, and Steve, because Fae senses. When you said you never took it off, I assumed it was a protection spell, but, well, you used to walk around with an awful lot of injuries for someone wearing a protective charm. That hasn't been true for a while, though." And there it was--the reason close scrutiny was never very good for Billy. Because he had a lot of secrets, and he still didn't like people knowing about them. His face must have betrayed him again because Robin's voice was gentle when she continued.

"Again, I'm not going to harm you. I can swear to it, if it would make you feel better."

"That's not super reassuring coming from someone who inadvertently permanently cursed her best friend," Billy muttered. Robin stared at him for a beat and then nodded.

"I'm going to let that one go because you're so obviously uncomfortable. But maybe be a little nicer to the person who is currently trying to help you."

"Don't need help," Billy said stubbornly. Robin just grinned at him.

"I think you just might. Now off." She gestured at the necklace. "Come on, you can put it right back on, and I promise this is a secure room. It's magically sealed up nice and tight." Billy stared at her for a long moment and then decided to humor her. He wasn't sure why. He lifted the necklace over his head and dropped it into the small silver bowl she held out to him.

"Cleansed and warded," she said, as though he had any idea what that meant. But she handled the bowl with respect as she set it gently on a table behind her. Then she turned and stared expectantly at Billy.

He felt the same as he always did, although he was just now noticing that the room was warmer than it had been before. He glanced at Robin and followed her wide-eyed gaze to his hands. His own eyes went wide as he stared down at them. His fingertips were glowing gold. The sight should have been shocking, but instead it was...familiar. It tugged at something in his mind--

And then he wasn't aware of much at all as a flood of memories swept over him. Sights, sounds, smells, the feel of power in his fingertips. His mother, talking him through the process as she prepared salves and potions and tinctures. The smell of fresh herbs and the mustiness of her drying room. Watching as she worked on his necklace every night for months. Her big eyes, sad on his as she explained. It's not safe, baby. I'm so sorry you have to hide, but I can't be there to protect you. It's not forever, I promise. My sisters will find you and they'll help you. The memories just kept coming. He was drowning in sensation and he couldn't get his bearings...

"--lly. Billy! Are you ok?" Robin's voice finally penetrated the haze of memories. Billy shook his head, trying to clear away the lingering headache caused by the flood. He gradually became aware that he was kneeling on the wooden floor of the room, hunched over, hands on the sides of his head. Tentatively, he lowered his hands and looked up. "Fuck," Robin breathed out. "You scared the shit out of me." She slumped down next to him. His fingertips were still glowing, but at least now he knew why. They sat in silence for a while. Billy eventually shifted until he was sitting cross-legged and closed his eyes, just breathing. The chaos in his head was settling, the memories slotting into place among the ones he already had. He took his time, wrapping his head around the way his entire world had just shifted on its axis. Robin seemed content to breathe next to him for as long as it took. It was a small kindness, but Billy wasn't used to kindness at all.

"So you thought I was a witch," Billy finally said slowly.

"Suspected," Robin corrected. "And I was right." She clearly had any number of questions, but didn't ask any of them. She just looked at him, eyes careful on his face.

"My mom was a witch," he said, trying out the words. They felt comfortable on his tongue. "I'm a witch," he tried next. It felt good. Right. He felt whole for the first time in a long time.

"I picked that one up from context, actually," Robin teased. He glared at her, but she just smiled.

"The necklace hid my power." He sighed. "She was trying to keep me safe." Robin was nodding. She carefully did not ask from what, and Billy appreciated that kindness too.

"Your mom must have been really good," Robin said. "That's major magic." Billy nodded a little. Now that he remembered his training, he knew just how much had gone into the spell. No wonder Robin had noticed it.

Billy flinched at a sudden knock at the door, and Robin's head snapped around.

"Robin? Honey? What exactly are you doing in my workroom?" Robin grimaced. She looked at the necklace on the table. Billy stood and reached for it, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"What if you lose your memories again?" she asked. Billy hesitated. The knocking came again and Robin seemed to make a decision. She tightened her hand around Billy's wrist. "My mom is...a lot, ok, but she's also very good. She might be able to help." Billy considered it. He wasn't ready to lose all those memories again. He let the pendant slide back into the bowl, hoping he was making the right choice.

Robin crossed the room and opened the door. Her mother stepped in, and Billy felt her presence immediately. It was clear why Robin had described her as 'a lot.' She wasn't particularly tall, but the room felt smaller as soon as she entered it. Her eyes swept over the two of them, just as sharp as her daughter's. Billy kept his back straight as she studied him. She closed the door behind her, and Billy felt that tingle at the back of his neck again. This time, though, he knew it was the wards kicking in, and he remembered the sensation from his mother's workroom at home. Robin's mom turned her attention to Robin, and Billy saw her swallow once. He tensed a little, but Mrs. Buckley just shook her head, a little fondly.

"Why exactly you thought I wasn't going to notice power of this magnitude in my own workroom escapes me," she said drily.

"I didn't know what was going to happen," Robin said. Her mother sighed, exasperated.

"That's not really better, love," she said, but there was affection in it. She turned her attention to Billy, eyeing him speculatively as she moved closer and held out a hand.

"Elle Buckley. Robin's mother and local High Priestess."

"Billy Hargrove," Billy said. He wasn't sure how to explain the rest. Fortunately, Robin's mom didn't seem to need much of an explanation. She crossed to the table and passed a hand over the bowl holding his necklace, though she didn't touch it. One of her eyebrows went up and she looked back at Billy.

"That must have been a confusing few minutes," she said. "You won't lose your memories if you put it back on. It will conceal your power from others, but not from you anymore."

"You're sure?" Billy asked.

"I am," she said with confidence. "It was elegant spellwork." She stared at him for a long moment. "Your mother, I assume?" Billy nodded. "She trained you?" He nodded again. Mrs. Buckley nodded to herself and turned back to Robin.

"That was reckless," she said. "What exactly were you thinking?" Robin flushed under her mother's scrutiny.

"He should know what he is," Robin said. Her mother just cocked an eyebrow and held her gaze, waiting. Robin sighed. "And I thought maybe he could help with Steve's curse," she admitted, mainly to the floor. Mrs. Buckley's expression went a little hard around the edges.

"We've been over this, Robin. The Harrington boy can get help from his family if he needs it." Billy looked at Robin, who was still looking at the floor. The Harrington boy? Not Steve, not your best friend. There was a story there. "Besides, Billy needs our help at the moment," she continued. She turned back to Billy.

"You've missed a lot of time as an apprentice," she said. "How old were you when your mother gave you the pendant?"

"Thirteen," Billy said. He wouldn't forget that age anytime soon; it had been a bad year. Mrs. Buckley nodded.

"We'll have to get you set up with someone in town," she mused.

"Not right away, though," Robin interjected. Her mother looked at her, surprised. "He literally just found out. He can take a little while to get used to it, Mom. He's got the basics, right?" Robin glanced at him and he nodded. His mom had taught him enough to keep himself and others safe. Robin's mom looked between them for a long moment, and then sighed.

"All right. Come see me when you're ready to get started. And keep that pendant on, for now, if you're not in a sealed workroom," she said to Billy. He nodded again. He had planned to do that anyway. Mrs. Buckley looked at Robin. "Next time, maybe give me a heads-up before you want to use my workroom? I can only help if I'm actually present when something happens." Robin also nodded, and Mrs. Buckley swept out of the room, pointedly waiting to open the door until Billy had his necklace on. He felt better with it back in place.

Robin led Billy out of the workroom and back through the house, and then followed him out to his car. She stood at the passenger door expectantly. He sighed and unlocked it. They sat there in silence while he lit a cigarette. She shook her head when he offered her the pack.

"What are we doing?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I have two pieces of good news for you," she said. He gestured at her to continue. "You're a witch," she started.

"Wait, what?" he said, acting surprised. The smile vanished off of her face for just a second until she realized he was kidding. She shoved at his arm.

"You dick. I thought you had lost your memories again." She glared at him while he laughed. "What I was trying to say was that there are a couple of implications of your new status that you might find interesting."

"Oh?" he asked, drawing out the word, tone as obnoxious as possible.

"First of all," she said, smile going a little sharp, "curses don't work on other witches. So whatever you feel for Steve is all you, friend." She smirked when Billy looked over at her, and then she kept talking. "That was why I wanted to test my theory so badly." Billy thought about it.

"You know this doesn't actually fix anything, right? He's still cursed."

"Sure," Robin said, "but we found a nice little loophole, and now we can just exploit the shit out of it."

"So what, Steve just has to spend the rest of his life cursed? Come on, Buckley." Robin looked at him and then smiled.

"Hey, maybe the curse will be broken as soon as you kiss him. I suggest you try it. But please do me a huge favor and tell Steve the news when I'm there? I really want to see his face."

"Yeah, no, I'm definitely not doing that." Robin stared at him, amused.

"You don't seem quite as happy as I thought you'd be," she said, and then her eyes widened. "You don't know how to tell him that you like him," she breathed.

"What? I don't...I mean, I do..." She let him flounder, smile growing wider by the second. He finally trailed off.

"Good luck with all of that," she said, gesturing in his general direction. "The good news is that you're a witch and Steve is half-Fae, so you've got a long-ass time to get your shit together. I have a feeling you're going to need it." She opened the car door and got out.

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, and then he felt bad. She had, after all, given him back a part of himself that he hadn't even known was missing. "Thanks," he said again, more sincerely this time. She held his gaze and nodded, giving him a small, genuine smile. Then she closed the car door and turned to head back into her house.

Billy sat there for a while, Robin's words from before ringing in his ears. Do you want a shot at Steve Harrington or not?  He did, obviously, and now he had one. What he still didn't have was any fucking idea what to do about it.

[singingforthepromises]

fruits basket manga lb (chs 131 - 133)

CH 131

We’re learning about the origins of the curse now. Oh boy. 

The cat went to God first ;A; 

omg the cat died first.... 

God saved it!

Oh, the cat didn’t want to have eternal life... and the others and God took that as rejection.... seriously? So petty, honestly. I love learning about how it happened but I’m just like... wtf. It’s like all of this generational trauma could’ve all been avoided if God and the animals hadn’t misinterpreted shit LOl

YUKI’S CRYING ;A;

I totally understand Yuki’s feelings here. It must be hard. You’re free, but you’re also letting go of something that was a part of you for so long, something that helped shaped who you are, no matter how negative a situation. 

AH AJSFJSJF HE CAN HUG HER NOW OH MY GOD I TOTALLY FORGOT IM SOBBING

MACHI IS SO CUTE 

She’s calling him by his first name KSFJSJFJSF

AHHH THEY KISSED! ENDGAME YUCHI! <3

“When did that promise turn into a curse?” What I’ve been asking since since the very beginning rofl

AKDGDKG KYO’S SHOWING KAZUMA HIS BARE ARM IM ;A;

KAZUMA IS SO HAPPY SJJDG

Haru and Rin!! <3

omg look at Tohru pulling on Kyo’s shirt how cute

is Tohru gonna see Akito? <3

SHE’S HUGGING HER! I LOVE THIS! I love that Akito can see that even after the curse has been lifted, Tohru wasn’t lying about being there for her, about being her friend. Akito needed this, honestly. I’m very happy with the resolution of their rivalry. I’m happy with how the curse broke. 

“The Cat’s wish... wasn’t granted... until much, much later.” IM CRYINGGG

CH 132

Starting the last volume... this is so depressing, I don’t want this story to be over. 

Akigure time, lol. 

Oh is this the final banquet? 

IT’S SO NICE TO SEE RITSU AGAIN!! <333

“Things might be a bit tense.” Oh, I’m sure. I don’t think it’s all going to be sunshine and daisies. Akito may be behaving a hell of a lot better and changed her ways, but there’s still a lot of pain here, pain that she directly caused. I’m interested to see how this is going to go. 

LOL @ momiji calling Kyo a cheater we love to see familial teasing!

I love that they’re not all awkward around each other. It just goes to show that a lot of their genuine personalities poked through even among the curse. They all do have a bond, curse or no curse. And it’s very nice to see Kyo being actually included in that bond. 

lool fucking Ayame, man. I love him. 

Aww is Yuki kinda sorta looking out for Kyo around Ayame? I love this. 

HAHA 

“Akito’s ready to see you.” sfjsjfsj

OH WOW.

Look at her? She looks so pretty? 

RITSU LMFAO

Oh, Shigure got her that kimono. 

Yeaaah, this is what I’m worried about with Akigure as a ship. Akito’s better, but she still has a tendency to fly off the handle if she thinks she’s being slighted, and it makes me worried about how they would handle dispites and arguments without getting physical like that, you know? I’d hope that she’d do it less and less as time goes on. 

“All of you are free. And this may come too late, but for everything... I’m...” Oh my god. Is she trying to apologize? 

She can’t, though. It won’t come out. I bet she probably feels like sorry isn’t enough, in some ways. How do you apologize for a lifetime of suffering that you’ve caused, the trauma inflicted on other people? 

I guess Akigure are official, lol. I mean, I’m glad that Akito’s getting a somewhat happy ending. Shigure, I still don’t like him but he’s a fantastic character. 

Akito’s gonna stay at the estate and be the head without keeping anyone shackled to her. That’s as good of an ending as I could’ve anticipated for her. I’ll be honest: I still feel like she got off a little easy. She should’ve faced some legal consequences, at least. But I don’t dislike her like I used to. She’s definitely come around and I’ve partially forgiven her. 

I’ll talk more about my feelings about Akito and everything once I’ve finished, but that’s where I am right now. 

CH 133

AHHH KYORU. THEY’RE OFFICIAL! 

loool who is Mayu talking about? 

OH Yuki and the others know about Akito being a female now? Nice!

“I can’t believe I was so violent... to a girl.” KYO. MY BOY. Omg what a sweetheart? Honey, she was violent to you, too. 

“The last thing I wanted was another guy interested in you.” LMFAOOOO 

YUKI’S DYING

“The mood between the two of them has become somewhat gentler than before.” Somewhat? Girl, they’re friends now, and I’m loving it. It’s so cute. 

“He beat the crap outta me.” YES LOL

“Kyo-kun smiles more than he used to. I’ve come to realize that this is his true self.” ;A;

oh my gosh THEY’RE SO CUTE.

How are they even cuter now that they’re dating?!

“Walking together, hand in hand, isn’t something that I’ll ever take for granted.” I’m cryinggggg. ;a; My babies. 

NOT TALK OF A KYORU BABY MY HEART CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH.

AND GRANDPA KAZUMA!! HE’D DOTE ON THAT KID!

What’s wrong with my bby girl Isuzu? :(

“Not everyone... is in the same situation.” Ah, yeah... 

“How can you act like nothing ever happened? She did all kinds of nasty stuff to Kyo. And she hurt you a lot too. Those wounds will never disappear, will they?” I 1000% understand Rin here. I was waiting for this to be brought up!

Oh, Isuzu, my poor girl. 

This might change later on, but as of right now, I don’t fully forgive Akito, either. There’s just too much that she did to too many people. Like Rin, like Yuki, like Kyo. Even Hatori. I’m generally a forgiving person, but I have a hard time with abusive characters. Maybe it’s from my own past, being a survivor of abuse. Being around it and knowing how they are just impacts you differently, I guess. I don’t know if it’s right to say that maybe people who haven’t experienced abuse are able to forgive easier. 

I haven’t forgiven my abuser, and I never will. Do I still understand why they did it, why they are who they are, and do I still empathize? YES. I feel a lot for people. I feel a lot for Akito on a positive note, and I’m so proud of her progression. She’s a hurt woman who deserved better and who hurt people because she was in so much pain herself. She hasn’t been able to break free of her abuser or heal yet. She needs a safe space to do that, and she’s beginning to learn to be better and be a sweeter person. Tohru showed her that. 

But like Rin, I can’t fully forgive her. If Tohru hadn’t done what she did, hadn’t reached out to Akito, Akito never would’ve changed. She would’ve continued to be horrible and not feel regret for the things she’s done. I appreciate that she was trying to apologize, though. And there are things that I’ve forgiven her for. It’s the worst indiscretions that I can’t. How she treated Rin and Yuki, specifically. I know that she was projecting with Rin. But Rin was a child and an abuse victim herself. Out of all of them, Akito could’ve related to her. Akito knew. She used that instead to hurt Rin, and that is the one thing that I’ll never be okay with. 

“They’ll need time. A whole lot.” Yes. And even then, it may not be enough. Some scars run so fucking deep that even time doesn’t help. I’ve healed from my trauma. It doesn’t impact me anymore. I’ve learned how to cope and move on and now utilize those skills to help others. I think time will help, though, and it may allow others to forgive Akito later. 

Distance is the key here, I think. If they’re not around her, maybe forgiveness will come easier. 

Wow, Akito taking what she learned from Tohru and reaching out to the maid? We love to see it. 

[unprofessional-bard]

Prologue

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller × Female!Reader/OC

Summary: The reader, waiting for a knock on the door by death, is saved by a smuggler with a reputation and a kid she used to watch over at the Boston QZ.

Word Count: 3.341

Warnings: Not too much, just a slightly detailed description of an injury and connections to PTSD.

Author's Note: Oh my, this is the first part of my 8 to 9 chapter long Joel fic!! A little background on the reader/oc:

The reader is ex-special forces captain and now a FEDRA major general in the Boston QZ who sticks to FEDRA in order to survive with her old friends from her pre-outbreak days. Her teams "black ops" reputation is well known around the northeast and it draws unwanted attention on her - it makes her a target. After a mission gone wrong, she finds herself tied to a chair, left to die, when a figure who's supposedly her "sworn enemy" rescues her.

I think I should warn you all now that the bloodshed/gore and the events in this fic in general will be quite realistic, like canon typical brutality but not too often. I'll put detailed warnings in each chapter though!!

Enjoy!

The first thing you felt was the taste of iron when distant chatter made your ears perk up and eyes open slightly. You were sure today was the day that you'd finally find your peace and move onto your next life and leave this miserable one behind, but the voices of what appeared to be a man and a young girl's had put a stop to that. You couldn't hear very well and you also didn't recognise the voices, but now they were more clear as you reckoned that they'd entered the room you'd been in for the past five days or so.

"Holy shit," you heard the girl say. She somehow sounded familiar now that you heard her better.

"Okay," the man. "We should be safe here."

You struggled to lift your head up and open your eyes completely, to speak even, which made things really hard but the little girl noticed you in very short notice.

"Oh fuck!" She exclaimed, probably at the sight of you as she sounded disturbed. "Is she...?"

You finally managed to move your head to the side a little as an answer to her question and whispered: "Help me... Please..."

"Ellie, stay back."

Ellie?

"But-"

"Stay back," the man growled at her. "Let me handle this."

You heard footsteps get closer to you and when you managed to open an eye a little bit, you saw his feet going around you. The sun was shining through the room, it was close to nightfall.

"Please..." you begged, already out of breath. "I- I need help-"

"Joel, she really needs help," Ellie's voice got closer as well.

"She doesn't have any weapons," 'Joel' commented while studying your vulnerable form, but the girl got impatient with a huff and pulled out what you assumed to be a knife. "Ellie-"

Ellie. The little girl from Boston.

What the hell was she doing here?

"I know her! She was at the Boston QZ a few months ago, look!"

"A soldier from the QZ?!"

"I know her Joel, trust me, we can't leave her like this!" She argued while you acknowledged her presence. You felt the copper ropes around your wrists get loose and, god, was it a relief to have them finally off your poor wrists. It hurt like a bitch, having cut yourself as you struggled with your escape -not to mention it was probably infected- but it didn't stop a wave of relief from washing over you.

You almost collapsed when your restraints came off, but a big pair of hands caught you by your shoulders before your face could hit the ground. It wasn't too long before she got your ankles free as well. You were now in the arms of a man who was suspicious of you, who wanted to get rid of you, but all you could say over and over again before you passed out was: "Thank you... thank you so much."

----

"Move!" You flinched at the angry lieutenant yelling at the kids. Ever since they decided to start up a school, this whole apocalypse had become even more difficult. You, as former special forces, always had a hard time ever since you became special forces and you thought that perhaps you'll be done with the outbreak, but the new crooked militia made sure you weren't a deserter.

You were forced to do many things you didn't want to do -and you didn't do them anyway- but you were never killed for it because you were the best and the only special forces left in your area... plus you lied your way out of missions to save innocent lives. You were pretty disciplined, but one thing you couldn't stand for was the harassment of those poor children.

"I'll take it from here, lieutenant." You stepped in before he could say another word. Your reputation over the past years grew and so did your rank, being a superior to many others.

"But-"

"I said I'll take it from here. You're dismissed, lieutenant."

The man saluted and marched away angrily, the kids confused and scared at seeing a new face.

"Alright, let's move along," you spoke in a more sincere and calm tone, which made the children relax.

Whenever they got into small troubles -like skipping class, wandering around etc.- you always took charge as best as you can to help them out. None of those children deserved to be born into this mess, you might as well make it as easy for them as possible.

There were a few troublemakers who were hard to put in line, like little Ellie, but you understood and you stood up for her whenever she was wrongly accused.

Little did you know that you'd be rewarded for your kind actions.

----

A bad dream -a nightmare really- from the day of the outbreak mixed with events from a couple of days back interrupted your sleep. It was the middle of the night, you assumed and cursed at the little amount of sleep you got as you didn't feel rested at all, then carefully studied your surroundings. You were in the same room where you were tied up and left to die, vision clearer and wounds not hurting too much (your face felt cleaner too), but you were in a different spot and lying on your back on something rather comfortable. You turned your head to the right as best as you could to see Ellie and Joel's silhouettes - Ellie on the ground sleeping and Joel sat by the big window of the office, watching outside with a rifle in hand and his other arm resting on his knee.

They really didn't kill you.

You groaned quietly as you slowly pushed yourself up from the couch. It always stood right by the door, but now it was pushed in fornt of the many shelves and tables covering the door. You sat on it for a while before getting up slowly.

Ellie was sleeping by the wall, a little away from Joel but closer to you; quietly making your way over to him and not waking Ellie up in the meanwhile proved to be easy.

"You're finally up," Joel spoke nonchalantly.

"For how long was I out?"

"Two and a half days," your eyes widened. "You really needed that, huh?"

"I guess so... doesn't feel like two days," your voice trailed off as the images from two days ago started appearing in your mind. You quietly leaned back on the wall behind you, then slid down and sat across Joel. He was looking at you, studying you but you were too busy with the flashbacks of a few days prior.

"You okay?" he finally asked, disturbing your thoughts.

"Mhm." You didn't trust your voice

"Tsk, sure..."

A painful two minutes passed in silence. The more you remembered, the worst it became. God, the Hunters, they killed your squad, killed all of them-

"I would'a killed you if it weren't for her," Joel nodded over to Ellie. "Told me about how nice you treated her and the other kids in the QZ..."

You smiled bitterly and nodded. You'd been wondering what had happened to all those kids you met in the QZ: "This is Carmel, right?"

"Yup," Joel groaned, gazing at the dark street a couple hundred feet below you. You focused on the full moon right above you instead and tried to put everything that happened in order: You and six other people -aka Alpha One- were sent after a dangerous group of Hunters, but they had made it out of the city and, under strict orders, you chased them out all the way to Cleveland. It was after Cleveland that everything got fucked.

"Here," Joel captured your attention once more when something soft brushed your leg. It was a blanket. "You look like you need it more than me."

It took you a while, but you eventually grabbed the blanket from his hand with a hushed 'thank you', then showed your bandaged wrists to him: "Did you do this?"

"You're very kind, thank you again." You said when he nodded 'yes'. Your gratitude made Joel's features soften for a very short moment, but he stayed silent. Little did you know that you'd be craving to see more of this side of Joel in about a month.

The past three days had been quite rainy, the weather was chill and if it weren't for the crack on the roof, you wouldn't have been able to drink the rain water that leaked in through there and you would've possibly died.

You wrapped the blanket around your shivering form and dragged your knees up to your chest for more warmth, not noticing Joel watching you from the corner of his eye.

He could tell you hadn't eaten in a long time for your face looked skinny. You were stripped of your tactical gear and FEDRA uniform, only left with your t-shirt, pants and boots; the said pieces of clothing covered in your blood. Your face was unrecognisable when they'd first found you - as if it were a canvas and the painter used blood to paint it. Your eyes were puffy from being beaten up but they were healing, it was by the dog tag hanging by your neck that Ellie recognized you. She cleaned your face with the water which was gathered into a small puddle by the chair you were tied to as Joel tended to your wounds with reluctance but carefully. Ellie had checked if you had a sleeveless undershirt of sorts and once she discovered you did, she decided to get rid of your blood soaked t-shirt which surprisingly didn't stain your undershirt as much as she'd expected.

"You can rest if you want, I'll keep watch?" You offered, the bags under his eyes made you feel bad for him. Poor guy, you didn't even know his story.

"Nah," Joel searched for something to say for a moment. "I'd say the same for you but I think you had one mighty rest."

"Yeah," you smiled apologetically. "'Guess I'll just... sit here."

"Suit yourself," Joel cleared his throat and shifted a little. He was tense, you could tell he didn't trust you but it was understandable. Normally, you would've launched yourself out of there the moment you were awake because god knows what could happen. But the only thing that made you relax a little was Ellie. He somehow looked familiar too but you weren't sure.

Only ten minutes into the silence, you couldn't resist and ask him: "How'd you end up here?"

You didn't realise that Joel's eyes were closed, he must've fallen asleep, for he never answered the sound of your hushed voice. Oh well, you thought, smiling softly to yourself; you grabbed his rifle from next to him and decided to keep watch and try to calm your mind. With everything that you had gone through before you ended up here, it was a little hard to keep calm.

----

"They're headed west, commander, we need to finish them."

"No," you sighed. "We chased them out this far, they won't be coming back."

"But, we have our orders-"

"I know, I know."

"Then let's go!" A man named Gabe who was a new soldier in Alpha One insisted. None of your team trusted this guy because he was willingly siding with FEDRA - something none of you were doing willingly.

A week and a half had passed before you all caught up to them in Pittsburgh. You only managed to capture one Hunter, but he didn't talk. Not so surprisingly, Gabe made him talk with the most brutal torture techniques that you were taught to resist. When Kurt, one of your oldest friends and the oldest of Alpha One, called him out? He pulled out a speech out of his ass (as Kurt had put it) about how the outbreak broke him and whatnot. None of you had found it convincing because of how out of character it was, so you all had to do the only thing left: cut him loose. Get rid of him.

But first, you had to hunt the Hunters down and you needed him, whether you liked it or not.

----

A small gasp from Ellie was what distracted you. You gave her a concerned look as she slowly sat up, breathless.

"You okay Ellie?" You asked quietly.

"Oh, yeah," she gulped. "Hey, you're awake. Are you okay?"

"Never better," you smiled and watched her make her way over to where you were nestled. "You and your old man really took care of me..."

"He's not my old man."

"Right... sorry... who is he though?"

"Joel. A smuggler," Ellie sat across you, her back to the said man. "I'm surprised you don't know him, him and Tess had quite the reputation around Boston."

Tess. Right. Now it clicked. Of course you'd heard of them, who hasn't?

"Yeah... Them I heard of." You nodded thoughtfully. You'd never seen Joel in person, but you'd done Tess a few favors in the past which she somewhat repayed.

But you couldn't focus on anything else but the conversations that occured on your way here.

----

"Commander, with all due respect-"

"Just spit it out." you sighed.

"Something's off about Gabe. We should just dump him in a river, tell 'em he got bit and that he died and go back... Christ (Y/N), we can't go on like this, we're almost in Indiana!"

"I know, Kurt," you exhaled hopelessly.

"We just gotta make sure they don't come back," Amanda, another dear friend from your pre-outbreak times said. "The world's already as fucked up as it is, we could do with less leech."

"Amanda's right, but these folk ain't leech." You reloaded your rifle. "They're goddamn weeds... Doesn't matter how much you cut off, it'll grow back again; but it's a start. We gotta get down to the root."

----

Ellie went back to sleep, knowing you're watching their backs, you'd like to think she slept a bit better. A few hours later the sun started illuminating the sky, which was when Joel woke up.

"Shit," he growled when he noticed you had his 'missing' rifle.

"Mornin'," you offered a small smile, knowing you won't be getting one in return. "Don't worry, you're safe. I stayed right here on this exact same spot the whole night. Relax."

He didn't reply, but you knew he wanted the rifle back, so you extended it over to him. He gave you an odd look, as if he'd been in a cage his whole life and it was the first time someone's been treating him gently, then quickly took the rifle from your hand. He then went to awaken Ellie, but you reached out to him, gently holding his hand to stop him from waking her.

"She went to sleep not so long ago, let her rest for a bit."

"We gotta get going, see if the herd cleared out." His tone was defensive.

"The sun is barely up," you offered. "Wait for another hour until whatever's left of 'em are indoors."

He wanted to argue, but he knew you were right, so he sat back down across you: "Why didn't you wake me up?" he inquired, arms crossed, one leg up close his chest leaning against the window and the other on the floor. Although he looked relaxed like this, he was still uncomfortable.

"Looked like you needed a rest more than I."

"I didn't."

"Don't lie to yourself," you chuckled at his stubbornness. "If I could, I'd trade my two and a half day rest with your five hour sleep. I had been sitting on that chair for far too long anyway..."

He looked at you, quizzically this time, sheer curiosity. You gazed into his hazel eyes for a moment and spoke: "Me and my team, Alpha One- we were after a bunch of Hunters but things went south after Pittsburgh... southwest, more specifically."

"You were in Pittsburgh?" Joel questioned.

"Yeah. We followed them all the way here, but then the bastards got tired of running, I reckon. They ambushed us here a couple of days ago, but a part of the herd you were talkin' about came through and... I don't know, it had been a quiet few days before you two came."

Joel looked away, face mixed with slight guilt and pity, but remained quiet.

"I know they're dead."

"...What will you do?" He asked.

"I can't go back to the QZ. It's better if they think I'm dead. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for so long..." you smiled sardonically. "I could use a different safe place other than a QZ. I don't wanna join another group or nothin'... Now, if there was a cabin on top of a hill or in the middle of the forest, that'd be great."

"So you're just gonna desert?"

"I've been thinking about it ever since I was forcefully recruited by FEDRA."

Joel gave you a look, bit his lip, then looked away for a moment but stayed silent. You knew he wanted to speak, but you decided to keep quiet too and try to figure out where the hell you were gonna go after they move out of here.

A few minutes later, Ellie woke up again. The both of them quickly got ready while you paced around the room, too afraid to go out and see the carnage on the hall.

"Let's go," Joel said once Ellie got her backpack ready.

"Woah, what about her?" She looked at you softly.

"I'll manage..." You tried to smile as best as you could. "My squad had some guns on 'em and so did the hunters. You could find some ammo outside and I can help you clear this place up, then I'll be out of your hair."

"Wait, you're going back to the QZ?"

"I can't. I don't want to. I need to find some place safe and... stay there for the rest of my life. But I ain't going back to the QZ."

"Then come with us," Ellie walked up to you.

"Ellie-" Joel warned.

"Where are you headed anyway?" you asked finally.

"Our destination is different, but we'll be passing by a place named Jackson, out in Wyoming."

"Ellie enough," Joel growled.

"She could help us Joel! She's done good by me all that time I was in that school, I wanna help her too."

Your cheeks reddened at her consideration: "Ellie, I-"

"There's a safe place in Jackson, I think you can manage there." Ellie revealed.

You gave Joel a hard look, but kept your tongue from saying something.

"God dammit Ellie," Joel sighed.

"I trust her, Joel."

You both glared at each other; Joel not trusting you- even despising your existence and you, disappointed that you did your best to earn a little bit of his trust by your gestures but he was just going to let you die out there anyway.

You finally said: "If I ever act up and do something that doesn't sit right with you, you can gladly put a bullet in my brain."

"...Fine."

His word was final. Joel gave in and as much as he wanted to trust you, you had to earn all of it, completely. It wasn't because you were a stranger who only helped a child and now might have a trick up her sleeve to get the both of them killed, however. He didn't owe surviving in this hell for 20 years to trusting everyone and helping them out. He owed it to keeping his guard up and not letting anyone new get close, either killing them or not seeing them ever again eventually. Your case was about the same, but you trusted Ellie and her sincerity as much as she trusted you and you trusted her when she said this Jackson place was actually safe. So, you had to put up with him and he had to put up with you now... for a whole month.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 6)

Sleep takes her regardless of whether or not she welcomes it and her waking comes as a very unpleasant surprise. She is only tolerant of her awakening as far as her daughters go, even then she is  no more able to protect them than her rotting corpse could.

“Mother?” Cassandra murmurs sleepily.

Alcina weakly strokes her hair, “I’m still...here dear.” She isn’t sure for how long. She needs to get up but her body ails her unceasingly and without mercy. She tries to stand, her muscles are all so weak and the pain in her abdomen is still so sharp. She gets to her feet anyhow, she is going to have to endure. Endure until her last breath.

“Lay back down mother.” Cassandra mumbles.

Alcina shakes her head. “I have to do things for myself.” She makes her way across the room, somehow she has to make herself useful. She loathes to think of what Hiesenberg will say to her when he sees her again, the mockery and the endless taunting. And she would deserve it getting bested like that by a human man.

She braces herself against the wall.

“Don’t hurt yourself, mother.” Cassandra frowns.

“Where are your sisters?”

“Daniela thought that it would be nice to make you some new dresses. Bela is better at sewing though.”

“When did Bela learn…?”

“She watched the maiden do it before we turned her into fine wine!” Cassandra replies joyfully.  

Alcina chuckles. It is the first prickle of genuine humor she has had in a while. At the very least it is the first moment that the pain had subsided even just a little. She attempts to heave herself away from the wall and stand on her own. It is still dizzying to look upon her furniture from this vantage point. It is one thing to get adjusted to it from the semi-comforts of her mattress and another thing entirely to walk by the towering room decor.

She inhales deeply--at least she doesn’t have to put thought into breathing anymore. And she takes her first few steps, slow and meek. Cassandra holds out her hand and Alcina takes it, privately pretending that she has done so for the girl’s comfort and not her own.

“Where are we going, mother?”

“Let’s check on your sisters and perhaps I can find myself something to eat…”

.oOo.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Ethan shouts. Lady Dimitrescu is not tucked safely into her bed when he arrives in her bedroom. He runs his hands through his hair, he can’t imagine that she could get very far.

Most likely, she is somewhere in the castle, lurking as she always had. But what if she has gotten herself further hurt than she is already? He imagines that she is the exact sort of woman who would push herself well beyond her limits just to prove something to herself, to impress an audience that isn’t even in attendance.

Or maybe she has assumed that he wasn’t coming back for her. Maybe she has left the castle in search of something to fix her up. But she wouldn’t leave those little demon flies, would she? He rubs his hands over his face and curses again.

He tells himself that he is only frustrated that he had gone all of that way and endured all of the Duke’s chatter and taunting for nothing.

“Got yourself in a really tight situation this time, didn’t you, Mr. Winters?” He’d chuckled. A fool he was to think that that would be the end of the Duke’s commentary.

“I thought up an assortment of scenarios about you and Lady Dimitrescu but this one never crossed my mind…” He had trailed off. “A small human. You might have four daughters to take care of now.”

“Absolutely not, Duke. She’s ill, not a child.”

The Duke had chuckled. “You’ve never overheard one of their family meetings, boy! The woman can cavil and grouse like the most petulant teenagers I’ve come across.” He took a swig of ale. “And that Hiesenberg, what a mouth that one has!”

“Duke…”

“Just how small is she now? I’ve heard hearsay that she was a tiny thing.”

“She’s...she’s small. Yeah.”

At that he had given his heartiest, most bellowing laugh yet. “Oh! What a treat. You’ll have to bring your new missus by when she’s all healed up!”

“She’s not...she won’t be...just sell me my goods, Duke!” He had waved the coins at him. Even a bribe--double the usual charge--hadn’t been able to deter him from his jesting. And so he’d resigned himself to several hours of jokes, gossip, and idle conversation. None of it of any particular importance. And now Dimitrescu is gone.

“Son of a fuck!” He shouts, noting that Heisenberg would probably appreciate that one. He slams his fists against her nightstand, knocking a glass to the floor. It shatters at his feet.

“Haven’t you ruined enough, Winters?” The woman, looking more thoroughly exhausted than before, stands in the doorway pinching her nose.

“I’m sure that you have a lot more glasses.”

“It’s the sentiment, Winters.” She, accompanied and assisted by her daughters, finds her way back to her bed. She falls heavily upon the mattress and just about curls in on herself.  “What kept you?”

“Have you talked to the Duke?” He groans.

The look on her face and that deep sigh tells him everything that he needs to know.

“Now, you might want to start treating me better because I didn’t have to do this…”

“You didn’t have to put me in this condition either, Winters. I won’t thank you for fixing what you broke…”

Broke. He looks her over. Does she really see herself as broken? Really he thinks with the proper treatments she could probably function relatively well. “Well, look, I didn’t just get you medication, I also got some new clothes for you and some food that’s more...suitable for a human.”

She seems none to pleased about this.

“Look, I even got you a new hat, just like your other one.”  He tries.

This seems to lift her mood, if only a little. She reaches for it and fixes it onto her head. It is only when he hands her the pile of clothes that he realizes she is already dressed in something new. Rather, aged but different than what she had been wearing.

“Bela and Daniela made it for me.” She notes.

He doesn’t want to be touched by it but, by God, he is. To think that those beasts have flickers of humanity. “There are two types of drugs here.” He holds them out, “one for diet and nutrition and one to suppress the immune system. Believe it or not, the Duke said that he got a supply just in case something like this happened.”

Lady Dimitrescu takes the pills and supplements.

“He was going to charge me extra too! He said that he was planning on getting extra riches from this, I told him that I put up with enough chatter to get a discount!”

She rolls her eyes. “That man is a character.” She takes a glass of water and swallows a pill. He can’t imagine that someone so small would need any more than one. She seems to stare sadly at her hands. But when she looks upon him it isn’t with as much hatred as it has been prior.

.oOo.

Alcina picks her way through the pile of clothing and, to her relief, finds a pair of gloves. She stuffs her rashed and blistered hands into the gloves, glad to be rid of the sight of them. She hates the sight of them, hates the sight of herself in general. She doesn’t just hate the sight of herself, she thinks that she hates herself entirely.

“Do you want something to eat?” Winters breaks her from her daze.

“Yes!” Daniela declares.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He mumbles.

“A meal would be ideal.” She replies quietly.

The man seems to bite at his cheek before asking, “what would you like?”

“I don’t know, Winters. I haven’t had a taste for human dishes since making dishes of humans.”

For some reason, he chortles at this.

“Surprise me, you’re aggravatingly good at that.”

Ethan nods. “Alright, I’ll cook some potato salad, Mia used to love potato salad especially when I added cider vinegar…” He trails off in thought.

She thinks that the memory is painful for him, it must be with his wife so newly dead. She tries her best to fight off the sympathy but doesn’t quite succeed. She has enough success to not reassure him but not enough to stop herself from pulling him out of his own head. “My girls need food too.”

“They can have some of the salad.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “You need to go hunting. They prefer raw human, but deer or wolf will suffice.”

He sighs and says exactly what she hadn’t expected. “Alright, I’ll show you how to make a good potato salad and then I’ll go on a hunting trip. I’ve already shot dozens of lycans, how hard can one deer be?”

[captain-cerrillo]

Operation Asteria

from x

“Hey loverboy,” Jackson Vance called mockingly from across the open space.

The biotics lit the darkened underground bunker around them, and Isaac turned off the parts of him that couldn’t focus when Eva was near. He wasn’t easily baited and slipped naturally into a familiar, lighthearted rhythm.

“You know, I can’t say I blame you, Cap. I’d abuse all of my power just to get to that sweet heat between her legs too.”

Max Townsend was one of Isaac’s best and oldest friends. He was also a seasoned N7 Destroyer. They’d been cooped up or deployed together for a cumulative total of at least ten years and had spent a fair amount of that time actively trying to kill each other. Which was helpful in a lot of ways generally, but Isaac was extra grateful for it now.

“Look at our girl.” Vance gestured to Eva who looked like she was quite literally fighting for her life and Isaac scrambled to push it all down. If anyone could survive a direct confrontation with two Asaris it could only be Eva. He hoped. “Fucking her way to the top.” Vance faked a sniffle. “I’m sort of proud.”

Isaac didn’t bother to explain the Alliance chain of command. Or how many other old soldiers were more impressive than him. The right arm of his armor frosted as the physical pneumonic of his hand gestures activated his suit’s cryo system to expel a flash freeze that sprayed out in a cone shape in front of him. It didn’t still the Destroyer, but it slowed the targeting mechanisms that his T5-V battlesuit’s VI used to lock onto threats long enough for the Paladin to roll into cover behind a half wall next to a row of terminals.

Isaac could hear the familiar grinding of the suit’s shoulder-mounted hawk missile launcher’s tiny gears as they struggled to shake off the freeze. Vance cursed and leveled his rifle. His armor glowed with a shaky red haze that told the Paladin he’d activated the suit’s devastator mode to boost his damage at the cost of movement. The choice confirmed Isaac’s suspicions that Vance was an idiot thug, not a seasoned soldier, because N7 Paladins were notoriously fast.

“Have you found that mole on her inner thigh? Right in that soft spot where her leg meets her hips. God she tastes so good there.” Vance intended to poke Isaac, but the Paladin didn’t spit back. Eva had a lot of fascinating beauty spots but the one on her chest, closest to her heart, was his favorite. He tried not to think of it.

Isaac popped out of cover, expecting the barrage of bullets to ripple against his suit’s shielding and adjusted his body weight accordingly. He stretched out another pneumonic, detonating the cryo explosion with a burst of fire from his other gauntlet. The plasma blast ate a decent chunk of Vance’s shielding but, again, he wasn’t stopped.

“We’ve got your boy. We’ve got your disc.” The Destroyer grunted as he expelled the heat sink from his rifle and reloaded with practiced speed. “And now we’re going to wipe you off the map before we leave.”

Vance fired a stream of armor-piercing rounds across the open space, chasing the Paladin as he rolled between cover to get closer before the Destroyer could move away. They collided in a show of smoke and fire as Isaac closed the distance only to tuck behind his omnishield when the suit’s shoulder rockets beeped their targeting confirmation. He waited for the ripple to subside and almost let up too early when a barrage of frag grenades shook the ground around him as he hunkered down.

A small piece of shrapnel from the edge of a metal storage crate at his back pierced his armor when one of the grenades rolled past him. He felt the familiar sting of a foreign object bite into his flesh as the scrap metal found a weak joint on the back of his armored knee as he crouched. He couldn’t help the painful yelp as his gloved fingers dug deep enough to pull it out. He threw the bloody piece on the ground, and it made a small jingling sound as it wobbled to a still stop.

“There we go. I knew you could bleed.” The venom in Vance’s voice was dripping. “Do you think Eva is bleeding right now?”

Isaac’s shield fizzled to nothing, and he leveled his pistol expecting the worst. The ringing sounds from the combo explosions and the smoke that filled the space around him were disorienting but he stayed steady on his feet. Isaac choked down the creeping fear at the thought of the Fury being caught in more than she could sustainably handle as every minute of the struggle stretched between them.

He rolled out of the way, just barely, before another rocket screamed by. It impacted another crate behind him that send shards flying. He ducked his back against a wall and popped his shield to spare another jab until the pieces clinked, falling onto the metal floor.

Isaac rolled out of cover, finding his feet lightly, straining his eyes and his suit’s telemetry as he searched for the Destroyer through the smoke. The spot behind his knee stung as the medigel sank in, knitting the raw wound beneath the tight fibers of his undersuit, but he wouldn’t let it affect his certain stride.

He knew he wouldn’t win the long game if Vance had enough ammo so he decided to close the distance. He tucked his pistol and his head, sprinting in a zig zag to delay the missile launcher’s targeting systems until he was close enough to swipe his shield with the full force of his rage of behind it.

The tech upgrades to his kit made a wall of flaming plasma between them and Vance screamed as the rifle fell from his hands to clatter on the floor. Isaac knew firsthand how the heat of the shield could make a man feel like he was going to boil to death in his own sweat. He knew firsthand the impossible weight of it as the tiny motors in his suit amplified his natural strength to unnatural levels.

Vance’s armored boots skidded across the floor and Isaac’s shield fizzled to nothing only for him to step forward and bash the Destroyer again, pinning him against the concrete wall under the weight of the suit and the shield. Isaac was grateful no one would see the way his teeth bared when he doubled down, intent to press the life from the idiot thug before he got another word out.

A cry that his bones recognized as Eva but his ears had never heard rang out in the distance. Isaac’s blood chilled.

“Sounds like they got her.” Vance sputtered, his hands grasping, gloved fingers clawing for purchase but meeting only chemical heat. “Better dead than yours.”

Isaac knew exactly how much pain he had to be in. He knew that if he didn’t move soon the fibers of the undersuit they both wore would begin to fuse with the younger man’s skin in all the hottest places. He knew what that smelled like. He wanted it. But he needed to back up Eva.

His shield fizzled to nothing, and Isaac stepped back to let the Destroyer crumple to his knees. The battlesuit sparked in several critical places and Isaac had a very good idea of the string of system notifications and warnings that the VI must have been spitting out over the Destroyer’s HUD.

“Old age has its benefits,” Isaac started. “Patience. Perspective.” He halfheartedly wondered if the man’s medigel delivery systems were still functional before he kicked him to the ground. “Experience.”

He grunted, a feral sound heavy with the weight of his fear and frustration as he slammed the shield down on the Destroyer’s armored shoulder. Vance howled, a blood curdling scream as the onmishield sliced through his broken battlesuit, biting a chunk out of the floor beneath him with the unyielding impact and cauterizing the wound at the same time.

“You’re an idiot and a thug. And you don’t deserve this stripe.” Isaac bent enough to make sure the Destroyer was watching as he lifted the armored limb that once belonged to Vance and threw it carelessly over his shoulder like he was packing for a trip.

Eva screamed again in the distance and Isaac had to go.

[cloudaura93]

Fall for You Pt.2 - Cindy/Alice Fanfiction (FEAR STREET)

Synopsis: SPOILER WARNING. Please don’t read if you haven’t watched the whole series. The second part of this story. Picks up at the end of the first part and covers the ending of the 1978 massacre flashback. I have an idea for a smaller final story to wrap everything up. Cindy and Ziggy are trying to reunite Sarah Fier’s hand with her body to stop the curse meanwhile Alice is helping in her own way as best she can given the circumstances. AU with alternating POVs between Alice and Cindy. 

Alice’s POV:

I hear Cindy and Ziggy flee the cabin as I struggle to subdue Tommy, my former friend and current possessed killer. He throws me off, recovers, and lifts me up by my neck slowly squeezing my windpipe, and then decides to toss me through the front doors of the cabin instead of strangulation. I land hard with a thud on my back while also smacking my head on the ground.

“Ouch.” I say under my breath as I slowly sit up and start scrambling to my feet. I see Tommy slowly approaching with the axe in hand, and I realize I either need to run away or find a weapon. A weapon. Of course. I reach down and remove the knife from the sheath Cindy used as part of the splint to support my fucked up leg.

“Here goes nothing.” I whisper as I launch myself toward him. When I’m a couple feet away, I throw the knife toward his face where it hits its mark squarely in his left eye as I dodge to the right, narrowly avoiding the impact from the axe swing. It momentarily stuns him as I start hobbling away to hide. I hope I bought Cindy and Ziggy enough time. I hope they are still alive because I’ll be damned if I let some stupid ass curse ruin my life further especially after I just got my girl back. We deserve happiness too.

I expect Tommy to continue pursuing me, but instead I turn around and realize that he is heading in the opposite direction.

“Oh shit!” I exclaim as it hits me that I was only a distraction, and the main target is Ziggy who is at the Hanging Tree with her sister trying to reunite Sarah Fier’s hand to her body. I instantly swivel around and limp behind killer Tommy moving as fast as I can. I try to keep up to hopefully have a chance to warn the girls as they try to stop this carnage once and for all.

We are approaching our mutual destination a few minutes later, and I notice out of my peripheral vision that I’m too late to help. I watch my beautiful snitch getting brutalized by her ex-boyfriend’s axe at the same time Ziggy is being repeatedly stabbed by the Milkman. It’s like some horrible plaguing nightmare, all playing out in slow motion while I’m about thirty seconds away, but hopeless to do anything to help. 

“NOOOO!” I scream out in agony as I collapse to the ground on my knees ignoring the piercing pain in my leg.

As I’m crying for a few seconds, it suddenly goes quiet and I glance up to see all the Shadyside killers have disappeared. I instinctively crawl on my knees toward the girls’ bodies hoping to say goodbye. I’m almost to Cindy when I hear the rustling of footsteps next to me. 

“Alice?!” He says, and I recognize the voice. Nick Goode. Of course he’s here. Fucking Sunnyvale’s prodigal son. The savior. The knight in shining armor trying to rescue the poor surviving Shadyside campers.

“Save her Nick! Save Ziggy!” I shout through choked back sobs willing him to understand my meaning as I sadly reach my girlfriend, and grasp her hand letting the tears flow down my cheeks. I couldn’t save Cindy, but I can at least attempt to keep her sister alive.

“I will. I promise. And Alice? I’m sorry.” Before I can even react, I feel a stinging sensation in my back and as my vision fades to black, I realize that this is how I’m going to die. With a whimper, not a bang. Alone and betrayed by Nick fucking Goode. A literal backstabber. You unimaginable bastard. We were so close. Not that it matters anymore. No one will remember us, and our sacrifice. This will just be another unfortunate and bloody tale of the cursed town of Shadyside. The infamous Camp Nightwing massacre of 1978.

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

Cindy’s POV:

As Ziggy and I are digging down to find Sarah Fier’s body, we stumble upon something hard that we hit with the shovels. 

“I found something!” Ziggy states excitedly. I hold my breath as I help her unearth whatever was buried underneath the tree. It’s a rock with an engraving on it.

“The witch forever lives.” I shakily gasp out.

“The witch forever lives.” My little sister repeats the statement before following up with “Cindy, what does it mean? Cindy?!” She asks worriedly.

“I don’t know.” I answer softly.

“What...where is she? Where’s the body?” 

“I don’t know.” I replied. We share a look first at each other and then at Tommy who is on our tails.

“This way. Come on.” I continue as I grab Ziggy’s arms and drag her up so we can attempt to run away. We turn around and realize that the other Shadyside killers are also here quickly approaching from every direction.

“What do you want, Sarah Fier? You want this?” As I hold up her hand. “You can have it. Just let my sister live. Just let my sister live!” I plead. I drop the hand next to the hole we dug in frustration and grab one of the shovels.

I realize sadly that there is no escape, at least not for me. But I can protect Ziggy as best I can and give her a fighting chance.

“You bled on the bone. They are after you. Get ready to run.” I tell her sadly. I’m so sorry Ziggy. I’m so sorry Alice. I wish we had more time to spend together, to make up for lost time. I tried my best but I failed both of you again. I love you so much. I’ll see you again.

“No Cindy no!” I hear her cry out at the realization of my decision. I hurriedly take hold of her arm again and we start sprinting together. At the last second however, I push her aside and swing the shovel at Tommy where I connect with his head but he immediately retaliates with a smack to my head with the axe’s blunt end. 

I fall down onto the ground hard helpless as I glance out of the corner of my eye to hear Ziggy screaming while being attacked by the Milkman at the same time the axe collides with my chest piercing my insides. Tommy strikes me repeatedly and as blood begins gurgling out of my mouth, I turn my head to face my baby sister who I notice is reaching out her hand toward me. I reciprocate the gesture and say one last thing to her knowing this is the end. 

“Nothing...will...pull...us...apart…” I gasp my final breath as the world goes dark and my eyes slowly close and I feel myself fading away. 

Some time later…

Cindy’s POV:

“Cindy. Wake up. You need to see this...to understand.” A disembodied voice whispers in my ear. I struggle to regain consciousness as I hear the faint sounds of terror around me.

“This is important. Please wake up.” The voice repeats itself. I stir and slowly attempt to stand as I’m feeling wobbly on my feet. Once my balance returns, I instantly realize that I feel different than I did when I was alive not too long ago.

“Where...where am I?” I ask the voice which has a feminine tone to it.

“Not quite sure. All I know is this is where the poor unfortunate souls who have attempted to thwart the Goode family’s treachery end up after they die. It’s sort of like limbo and you are a ghost observing the effects of the curse until one day it can finally end.”

I nod in understanding as I look around and realize that I’m standing at the edge of the clearing where the Hanging Tree is located.

“Sarah Fier.” I reply, finally figuring it out. 

“Yes. It’s me. I tried to warn you. I’ve always tried warning everyone who stumbles upon the curse. No one has ever figured it out completely. You were the closest, but alas you ran out of time just like the others.” She answers sadly.

“Will she live? Did I save my sister at least?” I inquire as I stare at Ziggy who is slowly dying.

“No. You did your best, but ultimately failed. Your girlfriend fared slightly better, but will still pay the ultimate price.” Sarah replies as she teleports us closer to the tree. I stare in shock as I notice my dear sweet Alice stumbling toward my body.

“Alice! No! I have to help her!” I cry out desperately wanting to save her from her fate as Nick Goode drives a knife deep into her back where she collapses onto my corpse, the light leaving her eyes as she bleeds out.

“She’s gone, but your sister will live. Nick Goode will see to it. Take solace that she survives. And your dear Alice will join us shortly so you will be reunited. You won’t share this existence alone..” Sarah nonchalantly explains. 

As if on command, I hear soft footsteps from behind and spin around to face my badass and brave girlfriend.

“Hey snitch.” She greets with a smirk. I race over and embrace her by wrapping my arms around her neck, tears misting at my eyes. She instinctively wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me closer. We hold each other for a couple minutes until I have to ask her a very important question.

“What took you so long?” I whisper in her ear echoing the last time I said that to her when we were still alive. She pulls back from the hug and grasps both my hands with her own.

“Three guesses. Besides, I couldn’t leave you to face this uncertain future alone. You are stuck with me now princess. For better or worse. Not letting you go this time” She beams.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I smile and close the gap between us to gently kiss her on the lips. 

Despite recent events, I still have hope. Alice and I get to spend eternity together even though we are both dead, and Ziggy lives even with survivor’s guilt. It’s not a perfect happy ending, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s better than what most Shadysiders get to experience in their lives.

And since we have been given a second chance to fix our mistakes and help prevent the spilling of more innocent bloodshed, it means we have a chance to help the next generation. To help Sarah stop the Goode family from continuing to enact this curse over Shadyside. Alice and I just need to watch over Ziggy until she’s ready, and then bide our time until the opportunity presents itself to intervene. This time we will be ready, and revenge is a dish best served cold. We are coming for you Nick Goode, one way or another.

The End?