#the original memory forgotten by everyone

[runawaycarouselhorse]

[ghostdice]

no because i suddenly need to rewatch suzume

[mango-fizz]

i saw someone on twt saying that seawatt made the fake memory abt the origin of parkour civilization so that hed be remembered by everyone because his level of parkour was erased and forgotten and ive been inconsolable

[klausysworld]

reader and klaus just had an massive argument and he kicks her out the house and invites cami over , reader ends up getting attacked badly in the middle of the night by one of klaus enemies and she calls him and he ignores all the calls until he listens to the voicemail in the morning only to find yn but it’s too late

The Ache Of Agony

Everything had been blown out of proportion. Y/N was a mess of tears and yelling whilst Klaus's paranoia was flaring. Within seconds Klaus had stopped thinking with his heart, looking at her like an enemy instead of his lover. Something to fight not fight for.

He had to get her out of that house before he hurt her; killed her.

However even once she was gone his mind was spinning. She hadn't meant to but she had caused a small sum of pain to him, put his family in danger and for that his mind told him to make her hurt.

Which was how Camille ended up at his house, lashes batting prettily as she sat beside him, leaning into him gradually. One of his hands was tense against the back of her neck, his body unsure how to respond between the battle of his head and heart as his lips neared the blonde's.

Their mouths finally met with a lack of passion on his end meanwhile she relished in finally having what she desired. His eyes only closed for a second before they were open, the look in them distant as he pulled away and let her rest her forehead against his.

The buzz of his phone vibrated against the table making him glance to see Y/N's name. Guilt crawled up his throat like a thousand tiny legs and he felt his arm reach out to grab the device but Cami's beat him to it. She clicked the button on the side and turned the phone face-down, pushing it to be forgotten.

Camille didn't stay as long as she'd hoped, Klaus couldn't go through with what his irrational mind had originally conjured up and he wound up back alone on the couch with his head in his hands.

Drink and drugs filled his body in an attempt to gorget his mistakes but in doing so he forgot her. The phone call and the dozen more that followed.

Morning had long passed before Klaus woke up face down, fully clothed against his bed. Elijah had been the one to drag Klaus downstairs, lecturing about his behaviour. One brief mention of Y/N's name was enough to spark a memory, the faint vision of his phone lighting up for the tenth time whilst his head was spinning a hundred different ways.

Klaus stood up fast, too fast. His body ached to throw up as the blood rushed up but he fought against it and ran for his phone, ignoring Elijah's impatient calling.

"No, no, no, no." He muttered, panic finally setting in as he clicked on the list of voicemails left from her only to be flooded with pure and utter dread when the haunting echo of her screams left the speaker.

Elijah's voice died down and the brother stood in a deathly silence as he pressed the next one. The familiar voice of a couple witches they had been antagonised by were laughing, mocking Y/N's agony as they tortured those cries from her one smiling lips.

"We need Davina, now." Klaus announced though the crack in his voice wasn't missed and Elijah was moving immediately.

Y/N had been looked at fondly by the vampires of New Orleans, wolves too via Hayley. There wasn't a bad word to say about her, so when hearing she was missing and most likely stung up in stitches, everyone was there to bring her home.

Five broken barriers and a covens worth of witches later and they finally had her within reach and yet nobody moved to pull her free of those chains.

Not when her throat was already slit, her body torn open down to her navel. Blood painting her skin, dripping down to the floor in a platter of abstract.

Klaus's heart ached so much he'd rather have had it torn out a hundred times over.

His steps were hollow against the ground as his trembling hands raised to tear apart the shackles that held her wrists up, dangling her from the ceiling like a butcher would a pig.

His arms caught her body with a broken cry, knees giving out but he didn't dare let her touch the floor. She was still warm against him, although that could have just been the blood, still her limbs were still soft and he could still curl her body against his and pretend for just a second longer that she was alive and snuggled up to him in bed like she should have been that night before.

Rebekah's hand touched his shoulder but the whimper that left his throat made Elijah pull her away. "Not yet." He uttered, his own voice struggling to maintain the usual stoicism it held. The other vampires hung their heads in grief, listening to the sobs Klaus Mikaelson whilst Marcel encouraged them to step away and let the family grieve.

Only a few had began to move when a sharp gasp reached each corner of the room.

A sound of terror leaving both Klaus and Y/N when her body lurched to some sort of life. She pushed him off, screaming with fear and confusion. Klaus's hands flew up in an attempt to show no harm and the other vampires were forcefully removed from the building to give her a moment.

Eventually her mind recognised her wrists were free, her insides were intact and the physical torture was gone; only psychological left.

Coming to the realisation she was a vampire hit her too hard after everything else she had gone through in the past hours. All her senses were running too high, causing her to spiral erratically.

Nobody could touch her, talking to her was proving just as difficult and it was eating Klaus up.

Hours dragged by but every minute was another minute closer to truly losing her forever. Klaus was given a glimpse of what her death would do to him and he knew that he couldn't let her go. He would give anything to go back and just let her yell at him, to have just forgiven her and make it up to each other. Or to at least have been the one to leave so that she could have remained safe at home. Instead he threw her out to fend for herself, an angel in a land of monsters.

Exhaustion wrapped its way back around Y/N as her end started to sink in. As her last grains of strength crumbled down the drain, Klaus was finally able to get close enough to hold her red-stained hand. He could feel her inner conflict to pull away or accept his comfort, she was scared and he understood that but he couldn't hold her lifeless body for the second time in 24 hours.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, careful not to speak too loud and irritate her heightened senses. Y/N's eyes were full of such a sadness he had never seen in her before. "Please let me bring you home, if you won't transition, at least be somewhere safe? Somewhere that's not here." He pleaded with her, hoping that of he got her home he could sway her decision.

Lucky for him, she didn't want to see that room for a minute longer than necessary. She couldn't have those walls be the last walls she ever see.

Being back in their bed, her bloody body staining the sheets as she shook worse than a leave on an autumn's night, was so much better than that floor.

The gentle touch of his fingertips on the side of her arm was the most amount of comfort she would accept so it was what he would give. The mere mention of turning shut her down but when her skin started greying, desiccating, Klaus couldn't just watch.

She whimpered a cry when the beautiful taste slipped down her throat, her vision blocked by tears as the hunger vampires had always described to her devoured her whole.

Klaus was finally able to get his arms around her as he felt her submit to the urges and drain blood bag after blood bag that he handed to her.

Klaus had to push the guilt down, he would have to survive her resentment, he would live with her hating him just so long as he never had to hear or see her in that kind of pain again.

He would never be the cause of that, not ever again.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Not Without Me (part 3)

Part 1, part 2

Jason was still absolutely furious, and grieving about what had happened with Bruce, despite Danny’s best efforts to comfort and look after him. The Joker’s death had helped a lot but there were so many other villains out there, and now with the knowledge that Bruce would never change Jason’s thoughts turned to Tim. The new Boy Wonder, going out night after night and putting himself in danger for the sake of adults who Should know better! Leading the Teen Titans and Still working with Batman, when did the fucking kid sleep?!

What was it going to take for everyone to realize he shouldn’t be out on the field?! Maybe an argument could be made for some of the more powerful teen heroes like Superboy, but Tim was Just a teenager! A super smart one sure but he could get hurt so easily, he could die just like Jason had. Was it going to take a serious injury to show them what a bad idea it was? 

And maybe a part of Jason did blame Tim, not for his death obviously, but for taking Robin from him when it had been his pride and joy. It had meant everything to him, and it seemed like between the original Boy Wonder and the new genius boy Jason had nearly been forgotten. 

So no he wasn’t thinking particularly logically when he got ready to go to Titan’s tower, and the closest thing he had to a plan was to get Robin alone and beat the shit out of him until he agreed to put the suit back in the memorial case where it belonged! The anger spiraled up and out as Jason prepared to leave, working himself up into a cold, green tinged fury.

He hadn’t told Danny what he was planning to do, and he hadn’t on purpose. Danny was loyal and sometimes almost too submissive, but Jason seriously doubted his boyfriend would let him do this. Maybe that ever-permissive Danny would have stopped him should have been a sign to Jason he really Shouldn’t, but he was not thinking logically in that moment. His blood was rushing in his ears, which was probably why he didn’t notice someone else was there until the door slammed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Danny demanded and Jason looked up to see him standing in front of the door, arms crossed and legs planted staring Jason down. His head was lifted and there was a stubborn set to his jaw that Jason Hated seeing because it meant Danny was not backing down. Alright, he hated seeing it directed at him, when Danny directed this at other people Jason thought it was hot as hell.

“Out,” Jason practically snarled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stomping towards the door in the vain hope that Danny would get out of his way.

“Like hell you are, not till you tell me Where you’re going worked up like this! What happened?” Danny demanded, and did not move an inch. When Jason got too close and tried to push past Danny he grabbed Jason and pushed him back hard. It was easy to forget how Strong he was.

“Don’t fucking touch me right now,” Jason snarled at Danny who stepped forward, infuriatingly fearless. 

“Or what? You’ll hurt me? Good, then we can actually have a productive conversation about this.” Danny accused, jabbing a finger against Jason’s chest. 

Jason grabbed Danny’s wrist without even thinking and twisted, throwing Danny over his shoulder and to the floor. He tried to bolt towards the door but felt a hand around his ankle and fell heavily as well. He’d only managed to roll over onto his back before Danny was on top of him, his own sharp teeth bared in fury. “You’re not running away from me, Jason!” He hissed as Jason struggled under him, still with just barely the presence of mind to be trying to get Away! If he started fighting Danny, or beating him properly there was no way Jason would be able to stop until he’d tired himself out and wouldn’t Want to go after Tim anymore.

Danny wasn’t going to let go though, and Jason’s eyes widened behind his mask when Danny lunged down, his teeth clamped down on Jason’s shoulder, tearing through his shirt and into his flesh easily. He howled and flipped them both over, the pain and perceived threat of someone near his vulnerable throat finally making him lose control. 

By the time the green retreated from Jason’s vision again his knuckles were bloody and bruised. He was breathing heavily and his shoulders ached, and not just where Danny had bit him but the muscle ache of exertion. Under him Danny panted, eyes closed tight and bruises still fading slowly from his skin under Jason’s stunned gaze. 

He pulled off his helmet and cupped Danny’s face with gentle hands. Danny opened his eyes again and looked up at Jason, eyes bloodshot and suspicious. Jason gave him a small smile and Danny relaxed, smiling back and lifting his arms to drape them around Jason’s shoulders, they were heavy, Jason could practically see that fatigue dripping off of Danny. He kissed his boyfriend gently and sweetly, peppering feather light kisses over any lingering bruises as Danny gave a soft, happy sigh. 

“I need a bath,” Danny murmured softly. Even though the wounds healed the soreness lingered sometimes, baths helped, even if there wasn’t blood down Danny’s face and staining the collar of his shirt. Jason must have given him a bloody nose a few times over.

“Of course,” Jason murmured and got up off of Danny, helping him to his feet before scooping Danny up in a bridal carry. He was light, Jason’s arms weren’t too tired to carry his lover. In the bathroom Jason set Danny down on the counter and kissed him again softly before putting the plug in the tub and started the water running. He grabbed a dark coloured cloth and wet it before handing it to Danny so he could clean the worst of the blood off his face.

Out of habit he turned to leave, Danny still hadn’t let Jason see him with his shirt off so when he bathed he did it alone. But not this time it seemed, Danny grabbed Jason’s arm before he could leave the room, eyes wide and a little panicky. Shit, Jason didn’t mean to upset him! Did Danny still think Jason would try to sneak away once he was out of sight?

“No, please stay,” Danny said softly, looking like he might cry which was a knife in Jason’s heart honestly. 

“Of Course I’ll stay, I just thought-, I mean you’re not going to bathe with your shirt on,” He said, trying to make a joke as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around Danny. For the moment he’d almost forgotten why he was angry before, they’d have to talk about it soon but taking care of Danny came first.

“Well, no, but I don’t want to be alone right now and you’re going to have to see the scars eventually anyway. I just don’t like looking at them, or thinking about them really, but… ya.” Danny sighed and leaned back, finally stripping off his shirt as Jason braced himself, then carefully controlled his reaction and pushed down his nausea. 

Danny’s scars were… extensive. They didn’t make Jason sick because they were unattractive of course, far from it, but because of the story they told. There was the lichtenberg scar Danny had shown him before, branching up his arm and curling over his chest, but that was probably the least disturbing. The most were the surgical wounds. Straight and clear forming a pronounced Y on Danny’s chest and abdomen, there were straight ones down both of his arms, and a vertical one up the front of his throat, though that one was just slightly less pronounced to the point it could be missed on first glance, out of contact with the rest of This.

Jason knew Danny didn’t scar easily, even when Jason had stabbed him in the shoulder the wound had not scarred. How bad, how extensive, how Deep had these wounds been, that they scarred like that?

Jason realized he was staring, and Danny was looking at him with concern slowly transitioning into panic. Jason stepped closer, leaning against the counter between Danny’s legs when he opened them for him, resting his hands on Danny’s soft hips. He pressed his lips against Danny’s forehead, hearing it as Danny let out a shuddering breath he must have been holding. 

“I just… wish that hadn’t happened to you Danny. And I really wish it wasn’t taking so long for my hackers and agents to find out Where the other GIW bases are, I want to tear those people apart,” He said. He could feel the Pits stirring just slightly inside him, though they were too spent to really react right now. 

“I could probably find them myself if I tried, but honestly I’m scared. I’m not sure I’m ready to face them again,” Danny said softly and Jason sighed.

“I get that Danny, it’s okay,” He promised. He wanted to blow up those bases ASAP, especially since they might be hurting other people, but he couldn’t Force Danny. Hopefully his people would find out more soon and Jason might be able to handle it on his own, maybe with some help from old friends.

The bath had finished running so Jason turned away from Danny to turn it off while he undressed the rest of the way. Jason gave him a hand to steady him as Danny stepped into the water and sank down into it with a sigh. Jason sat beside the tub, leaning against the edge and holding one of Danny’s hands as he relaxed. He’d wash off the remainder of the blood when he was ready to get out so he wouldn’t be soaking in bloody water till then. 

“So, where were you headed That upset?” Danny asked, watching Jason with half lidded eyes. 

“You know, one of these days I’m actually going to be going to do something time sensitive and you stopping me like that is going to cause problems,” Jason grumbled without heat. He knew he was a liability at times when his rage really took over and needed Danny with him then more than ever. Danny knew it too judging by the disbelieving huff he gave Jason in response. “I was… not being rational, I was freaking out about the new Robin.

“He’s just a kid like I was, I don’t want him to die,” Jason muttered, crossing his arms over the edge of the tub and resting his chin on them.

“So what were you planning to do? Kidnap him?” Danny asked calmly.

Jason avoided his gaze. 

“Jason… you weren’t planning to hurt him were you?” Danny asked, and his disappointment was cutting and gentle. Jason’s shame was deep and heavy, making him shrink into himself.

“I thought maybe if I showed him how dangerous it was, how easily he could die he might Want to stop,” Jason muttered, barely audibly. 

“You DID die and nearly the first thing you did once you came back was hop back into costume! Do you really think that would stop him when it didn’t stop you?! He doesn’t seem like he’s any less stubborn,” Danny accused him.

Jason groaned and buried his face in his arms, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. He was right of course, Jason had been being an idiot, driven by emotion and the blood rushing in his ears. He should have talked to Danny about this ages ago. “No, it wouldn’t have stopped him. So what do we do?” Jason asked, his voice muffled. 

He felt Danny’s other hand in his hair and leaned in to the soothing touch a little, letting him card his fingers through Jason’s hair. “I know you’re not going to like this Jason, but I don’t think we can make him stop.” Danny said softly and Jason let out a sound that was half a groan and half a growl. “He won’t stop for pain, if we kidnap him we won’t be able to keep him and drawing that much attention to ourselves would definitely be a mistake. We can’t make him stop, but we can probably help him.”

Jason hummed and peaked at Danny who was gazing into the middle distance thoughtfully. “Danny? What are you thinking?” Jason asked a little warily. 

“What did you need when you were Robin? What would have made you stop?” Danny asked, looking back down at Jason. 

It was his turn to fall silent, thinking deeply about that question. He sighed and shifted, leaning his back against the edge of the tub and stretching his legs out in front of him. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling in contemplation. “Someone.. Who would support me unconditionally. Bruce didn’t Make me be Robin, but a lot of the time it felt like it was the only way I could get his attention. Being rewarded for Not going out… help?” He said with a vague little gesture of his free hand.

“Can we try to do that for him? If we can get in contact with him we can offer him support, places to hide if he needs a break from Bruce, help with homework? Whatever he needs. At first he’ll probably take advantage of that as an opportunity to spy on us, but as long as we’re careful about it, that could be our in,” Danny suggested.

“What would I do without you,” Jason sighed, looking at Danny with his damn heart in his eyes as Danny gave him a fond but sardonic smile. 

“Apparently, nearly beat a teenager to death,” Danny said and Jason groaned, his head thunking back against the side of the tub.

“How long is it going to take for you to let that go?” He asked preemptively. 

“Never,” Danny replied blithely. “I will bring it up every time I need to remind you Why you need to talk to me before doing something drastic.” 

Jason groaned again, but he definitely deserved that.

--------

Instead of breaking into Titan Tower to fight Tim, Jason broke in to leave him a note in his room.

Hey Timmy (A.K.A. Replacement)

I know I’ve made a pretty damn terrible first impression but I want you to know that it’s not you I’m mad at. I understand wanting to be Robin, I loved the role more than anything before it killed me, and even though I don’t want any more dead kids I don’t think I can make you give it up. 

But you know it’s dangerous, we both do. If you ever get in over your head, you need a place to hide, get in over your head in a fight? Hell, you need help with your homework. I'm really good with English and Hyena knows more than anyone I’ve met about Astronomy.  

If the old man is with you we won’t let you in, but if You need anything you can call me, or come to the Alley. As long as you’re alone you are welcome, and I swear on my own grave no one will hurt you.

Red Hood

Masterpost

[dcxdpdabbles]

The ballad of Jane doe has me in a choke hold. The lyrics really feel to me and I had an idea of an alternative universe where Jason as Robin and beheaded by Joker as a way to avoid irl identification? Idk he’s insane. 

But the lyrics that really spoke to me were: Oh Saint Peter, let me in!

You must know where I've been

Won't you tell me at last who I am? 

(This can be either Jason revived and never getting his memories back and asking maybe maybe Danny someone who is kinda his minder who he is but Danny never knew him so he can’t say or Batman in a desperate but frustrated way when he’s all vigilante and stuff while fight and takes off his helmet for dramatic effect and maybe Jason never aged and still 15 or he just doesn’t have a head so Danny made one of ecto that is supposed to look like him) 

And I'm asking "why, lord?"

If this is how I die, lord

Why be left with no family

And no friends? 

(Jason never having his memories cries out for any information but maybe someone is blocking his search or some other factor, Jason not having any memories mourns the thought of family and maybe in a fight he’s yelling angrily about the unfairness of his situation and having no one, maybe even a vent to Danny if slimmed him spinned right) 

I’ve got no celebration

Just this consolation

Time eats all his children

In the end 

(Jason not remembering his funeral and his only consolation is his missing head or a scar on his neck from the beheading and this can also relate to clockwork and you know the Kronos correlation, how time has no favorites and everyone will be forgotten just like him in the end of their days wether it be their death or the last time their name is said) 

A melody floats through the air

When silence falls, does no one care? 

(frustration of no one telling him who he is and and maybe there will be a fight scene where he takes off his helmet and asks if anyone- anything cares about his existence in front of Bruce or the batfam) 

how Danny plays into his either this is alternate Jason and Danny being one person and Danny being in an accident which kills him half not and half did or Danny is dead Jason’s minder and they get teleported to another universe where canon is idk :)

I'm not going to lie. This song goes hard for Headless Jason.

I like what you wrote about this being Danny as his alt! Jason, but I also like the idea that Jason's family are descendants of the original Dullahan. He just didn't know it since he didn't know his bio mom.

Anyway, the family gets one extra life, which his bio-mom used up before, and that's why she died in the explosion that took Jason's first life. He wanders Gotham the first year as a zombie because he doesn't have his head until Danny finds it and helps reunite him.

But that year, Jason forgot who he was, and he was filled with nothing but questions and anger. Danny decided to be the bridge between worlds and stuck around to help him. Instead of Jason ending up with the League of Shadows, he is in Ghost King Phantom's court and is living in a small house on the outskirts of Gotham, trying to learn his new ghost powers.

Danny is super excited since this is the closest he's gotten to another Halfa since Vlad, and yeah, it's a little scary that they can't get his head to stick on his body since they've been apart for too long, but Danny is working on it.

In the meantime, they have Jason wear a red Biker helmet that he never takes off. Nothing can go wrong with that! The fact that Joker used to do the same thing as Red Hood meant nothing to Danny and his roommate, who enjoyed gardening, cooking dinner, and sitting together to watch a movie!

The occasional cuddle here and there! Slight domestic bliss sprinkled in!

No, Jazz, that isn't his undead boyfriend. That's just his roommate! So what if they are the same age? Danny is technically hiding from his parents, so he never ventures too far from his property!

Jason likes being in the boonies with him just fine.

[always-just-red]

A/N: Poured my soul into this a couple weeks ago, am dedicating it to everyone who's similarly torn between Sylus and their original LI- especially my fellow Rafayel girlies! This is not going to help! It's going to make it worse!! 🥰

Unspoken

Sylus x Reader 🩸 (implied Rafayel x reader)

Summary: You could fix all of this if Sylus would just resonate with you. Why won't he resonate with you?

Genre: Angst, so much angst, brace yourselves

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, injury detail, blood, swearing, possibly not lore-accurate (I've taken some creative liberties with Sylus' healing abilities and MC's resonance for the sake of maximum angst, because I like to suffer!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Like the first, warm prickle of sunlight when you step out of a cold shadow.”

“Hmm?”

“That is what you said to him, right?”

Sylus’s eyes are closed, his head leant back against the wall and his whole body heavy with tiredness. He doesn’t move as he asks you the question. Doesn’t fix you with that suffocating, crimson gaze— like he usually does— and you almost miss it. There’s a pain to his tone, accentuating the gravel of his voice, and a part of you thinks it isn’t all for the injuries you’ve set about tending to.

If he was looking at you, you would see it, wouldn’t you? That flicker of melancholy that sometimes likes to betray the rest of him. Maybe that’s why he keeps his eyes closed.

You deliberate his words, trying to ignore the way he tenses as you press gauze to a wound on his stomach. They do feel familiar: a simile dancing at the edge of your consciousness, just barely out of reach. It’s hard to pursue the past with the present wetting your fingertips, fresh, hot, and red.

One clue: That is what you said to him, right? Him. Him? Who was—

Ah.

Suddenly the words are your own, at the tip of your tongue, because you're saying them in a memory. You were with Rafayel in his studio, reunited and safely returned from the N109 Zone. He had been holding you close, telling you he’d missed you and that he’d been waiting forever; he was so, so bored. You’d smiled fondly. Laced your fingers through his and resonated: wanting to lose yourself in his power, wanting to forget there was any other kind of warmth. He had sighed softly. The sensation was usually buried beneath blood and battle; you’d forgotten how intimate it was.

Then he’d asked you what it felt like.  

“You heard that?” you say to Sylus.

He hums a little. “Not directly.”

“Sylus.”

His name evokes a faint interest, or perhaps it’s the way you said it: chiding, stern— like you were just getting started. His right eye opens, regarding you warily. “Mmm?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve lectured me, sweetie.” He leans back again, eyes closed. “There is a difference.”

You resist the urge to wring his neck, especially when it’s bared as invitingly as it is now. It feels calculated. Deliberate. You can almost imagine him lying there, anticipating the fatal vice of your hands. It was what he always seemed to want: to drag you into sin with him.

“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you actually listened to me,” you reason, releasing a breath. “You can’t keep spying on me, Sy.”

He hums again: this time sceptically. “Can’t I? But you say such pretty things to him, kitten. It’s like watching a melodramatic film. I’d hate to miss it.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Maybe,” he admits with a half-hearted chuckle. “Then again, maybe not.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pretend it’s because you’re busy. Sylus’s hastily rolled up shirt has slipped downwards, catching the edge of his wound, and you lift it delicately, your fingers skirting over skin. His jaw clenches. His hands fist. His mouth is a tight line and you’re not sure what it’s holding onto more carefully: a short hiss of pain or the rest of his confession.

There are always things he isn’t telling you, but he comes closer to it at times like this, when you could do anything to him— cut his throat, collect on so many bounties— and instead you’re just… nice.

It’s the reason he doesn’t call when he’s slumped somewhere after a shootout, his Evol exhausted and his strength draining from half a dozen wounds he can’t quite heal yet. It’s the reason he lay here for who knows how many hours before you found him, rolling his eyes as you rushed to his side, because Luke and Kieran couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

You want to shout at him— want to scold him for being so goddamn stupid— but you don’t. Here you are instead, humouring him and playing nurse, when a simple resonance would suffice. He’d tried to force it before, but now, when you had thrust your hand into his and willed him to take? He’d snatched his hand back. Insisted on bearing his pain ‘the old-fashioned way’.

He was so fucking stubborn.

“What does it feel like with me?”

Sylus’s voice is gentle but his eyes are sharp— cutting into you like a blade striving for bone. It’s an unintentional violence, a jarring: I know what you’re thinking, but I’d rather hear you say it. Kindred spirits; he sees your mind and your heart and then looks at you like it isn’t a weapon. Like you should be grateful for the knife at your throat because you can trust the hand that’s holding it.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, “if you can conjure up a metaphor for your little artist, you can do the same for me.”

Something is stoked in you, and though you bite your tongue, your careful fingers slip for a moment, pressing into the tender skin at the edge of his wound. Sylus grimaces— hisses— though you could swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You’d sinned, hadn’t you? “You really wanna know?”

He nods, his eyes on you again. It’s your hand on the knife, and he trusts you implicitly.  

“It’s like… the ocean, I guess.”

“Inspired.”

“Shut up—” you flick his forehead— “just listen, ok? It was overwhelming at first. Zayne, Xavier, Raf… They’re all so powerful. But you? It felt like you could drown me. Like you wanted to drown me.”

Sylus is quiet. You’re running an antiseptic wipe over the smaller scrapes on his stomach, but he doesn’t flinch.

“It was consuming,” you carry on as you work. “Frightening. There was so much of it- so much you- filling my lungs, trying to take my breath away. The entire time I could feel how fathomless it was. I knew if I stopped fighting it I would sink, and that I would never, ever stop.”

You can remember it vividly, especially when you’re as close to him as you are now. Though there’s no more dark energy, twisting around you, dragging you closer, you can still feel its grasp. You can see it, too, when you look up at him: hunger, burning red.

It isn’t a command anymore; it’s a longing.

And you both know you can’t give him what he wants.

“But then I did stop fighting,” you continue, because you can at least answer his question. “And I could still breathe. I was still… myself.” You place a hand on his knee. “It doesn’t scare me anymore, Sy. It’s vast and intimidating, but it’s… exciting, too.”

You smile and give his knee a playful squeeze. “I wanna see how deep it goes.”

He’s stoic for another moment, an apathetic gaze dropping to your hand before lifting to your lips. Then he’s smiling too, leaning closer: “I want to show you how deep it—”

“Don’t ruin it.” You push him back to the wall.

He laughs, running a hand through his white hair, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a place in his mind where he’s closing the distance again, and he doesn’t care if you know it. You feel the heat in your cheeks betraying you, so you focus back on the man’s injuries: the gash on his stomach has already bled through your bandages. It’ll need stitches.

You sigh, starting to peel back your previous work.

“Does it hurt?” Sylus asks. “Now that you’ve… stopped fighting?”  

You glance up, and he’s examining his hand like it’s a gun he hasn’t yet fired and so can't know the power of. He flexes his fingers, pale in the light. “A little,” you admit, thinking of Zayne’s ice and Rafayel’s fire. Resonating was always a trust exercise: it could kill you, could burn, and you had to be willing to let it. “But I can handle it.”  

Used bandages tossed aside, Sylus’s wound looks as dire as when you’d first lifted his shirt to find it. You lean back, lips pursed in bleak assessment; somewhere at the back of your mind, Zayne is insisting this is a job for a real doctor.

“That bad, huh?”

You huff in answer, exhausted. You shoot Sylus a look of defeat before gingerly offering your hand.

His eyes flit between it and you, and you have to give another nod of encouragement before he surrenders. He holds his breath— it’s slow— his forefinger gliding tentatively up your wrist, spelling a silent question, before tracing a circle in your palm. He closes his eyes. His long fingers spread yours and he’s claiming your hand with something between reverence and sin.

His touch trespasses delicately. His Evol doesn’t.

You bite back a gasp as power surges through you, dark and devouring. Your eyes snap shut and your hand tightens around his, not knowing if it’ll ground you or drag you deeper, not caring so long as there’s something in all this everything to hold onto. This could kill you— you would let this kill you, but it won’t. Your nails are leaving crescents in his skin and you know, you know, the world will burn long before you do.

This is different than the others. Better than the others.

Suddenly your hand is empty and the darkness is not a promise but a place where you’re alone. Your eyes flutter open, searching for an anchor. Your head is swimming.

“Are you alright?” Sylus is looking at you, his hand on your shoulder, steadying you, and it takes everything in your power not to grasp it again.

So empty. So alone. “I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice is shaking.

“Tch.”

He’s not a man who wastes his time, and he knows better than to push that particular lie. Rejuvenated, he sits up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders— reacquainting himself with the strength of his body. He’s imposing again. Looming over you, again. His wounds have all healed, and you watch as the stains of his blood lift and disintegrate, like embers on a breeze.

His hand moves to massage his neck, and he yawns as he lazily tips his head from side to side. “Enjoying the show, sweetie?”

You don’t really hear him. He chuckles, pulling his shirt back down before waving a hand in front of your face; you catch it in a heartbeat. “Stop it.”

“There you are.” 

He twists his wrist free, but then your fingers are around his hand, turning it over so you can get a better look. Your thumb traces thoughtfully over the marks you’d made. “Aren’t you going to heal—”

“No,” he smirks.

He wants you to ask him why, so there’s no way in hell you’re going to. You both have your secrets: some worn on the sleeve and others, clutched a little closer to the chest. What does it feel like with me? You turn the question over in your mind as you tidy up wet gauze and bandages. You had told him the truth, just not all of it.

Like how you don’t lose yourself in him, but feel more yourself than you ever have.

Like how every time it gets easier, but so much harder to stop.

“So,” you mutter, distracting yourself, “are you happy with your metaphor?”

Sylus mulls it over as he studies you, a faint glow in his right eye. There are also things he wants to say, but he’s thinking of you and the artist, locked in a wistful embrace in a cluttered studio, so he keeps them to himself. His gaze tells you what he doesn’t: that he will bear it with a smile, for you, and that he will hold onto it long after it makes his hands bleed.

“It was a trifle trite, perhaps. Though… sweet,” he purrs. “Who knew a kitten could be so eloquent?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm.” He grins as he looks at your marks on his skin. “That’s better.”

[sun-and-moon-mushroom]

Ok so — Luo Binghe is happily living his life with his husband, all their problems have been sorted out, the human and demon realms are at peace… and then one morning he wakes back up at the base of Cang Qiong, a child again, on the day he was first accepted as a disciple by Shen Qingqiu. He doesn’t know how to get back to his original timeline, or even if it’s possible, but while he’s here… maybe he can make sure things between him and Shen Qingqiu go better this time around?

SQQ doesn’t like him initially, something he’s sort of forgotten over the years, preferring to think of happier times instead. He doesn’t get tea poured on him though, which is his first improvement, and he isn’t kicked out of the disciple dormitories either. Even his first cultivation manual is a copy that’s less damaged than he originally got!

(SJ still doesn’t like LBH much, but unlike the first time around, he doesn’t have a reason to specifically hate him. Instead, he just sees him as something of a sycophant, at least at first — cunning and ambitious, but loyal enough).

LBH manages to get the job of making food for SQQ again, which means he’s spending a lot more time around the bamboo house than he ever did before his shizun had that strange qi deviation, and it’s giving him the chance to see a side of SQQ he never saw before. He can still see the similarities between this one and his husband — they share a tendency for cutting critique, embarrassment over being seen enjoying something outside their role as Peak Lord, and a fondness for sweet snacks. They’re still very different though, and LBH slowly finds himself falling in love with this version of SQQ as well.

Being closer to SQQ also lets him see his interactions with the other peak lords — especially YQY and LQG, and their relationships are so different from what he’s become used to. He knows that SQQ apparently lost some memories during that qi deviation, since he apparently forgot whatever caused him to hate LBH in the first place, since he’s never been able to explain why to him — but he really must have lost a lot to forgive people that he so clearly doesn’t get along with. Sure, part of LBH is glad that LQG isn’t a romantic competitor any more, but that’s no excuse to be rude to his shizun!

Keeping this in mind, LBH decides to try and avoid that qi deviation that changed SQQ so much. The first time it happened, it was a blessing, but this time, it would erase this other version of SQQ that he’s only just getting to know. So he manages to convince SQQ to teach him how to treat qi deviations.

(SJ goes along with it, because it seems more convenient for him, even if he has to read up on some of the theory in order to teach it).

When Sha Hualing invades, LBH is ready — and when SQQ shows up with injuries he didn’t have the first time, LBH is willing to stand up and take on the first fight against the one-armed demon. Instead, SQQ fights the demon who covered his armour in Without-A-Cure, winning easily. Liu Qingge shows up, just as he did the first time, and that’s where things go wrong — when everyone is distracted by his appearance, the defeated demon charges at SQQ, almost getting him poisoned, if LBH hadn’t thrown himself between them.

(SJ was only just able to save LQG due to his better knowledge of qi deviation treatment, but he still ended up getting injuries in the process, and they hadn’t fully healed yet).

LBH wakes up a day later, in the side room of the bamboo house again, still dusty and filled with storage boxes. He’s met by a Qian Cao disciple who explains that, even though the poison ended up not being Without-A-Cure, he still needed time to fight it off, and qi infusions from a stronger cultivator — like his shizun. After they leave, SQQ comes in and asks if LBH knew he was part demon.

(SJ grew suspicious when LBH was so willing to sacrifice himself, and investigated, confirming the poison was actually Without-A-Cure, but he didn’t tell Qian Cao that. From the way he just fell ill from it, he knows that LBH must be only part-demon, although he doesn’t know how much, or if he knew if the poison would affect him or not).

LBH pretends he didn’t, drawing on his memories of the first time he learnt about his heritage, and it seems to convince SQQ. He tells him that he can stay in the sect, but only as long as he can hide his heritage — and if he decides to learn demonic cultivation, he should come to SQQ instead of seeking out any strange old masters who claim they’ll show him the route to power.

(SJ rationalises this as just a way to pay back the debt for LBH saving him from Without-A-Cure, and also a potential way to test out some of the theories about demonic cultivation. Over the next few days, he doesn’t get the chance to sleep, between the chaos resulting from the demon invasion, and the presence of LBH so close to where he sleeps. One day, just before LBH is meant to go back to the dorms, he finds himself collapsing onto his bed out of exhaustion. Rather than the nightmares he’s become used to, all his dreams are peaceful.)

Sleeping closer to him, LBH can now slip into SQQs dreamscape to take a look. The SQQ he married had strange dreams, absurd really, that mix things he’s never heard of with reality (what is a ‘microwave’ and what is it doing in his kitchen???), but this one has nightmares. Even from just a few glimpses, he can tell why SQQ might have wanted to forget those memories, to pretend they didn’t exist, so he pushes them away and replaces them with happier memories instead. A few days of peaceful dreams later, SQQ tells him he can stay in the side room, because ‘it will make cooking easier’.

(SJ still isn’t really sure what to think of LBH although he’s slowly starting to care about him — very against his will)

The Immortal Alliance Conference is coming up, and LBH has a difficult decision to make. He doesn’t exactly want to go back to the Abyss but… if Tianlang-jun gets free again, won’t his plan to unite the realms be the same? If he can find his way into the Abyss and claim Xin Mo before LBH does… no, it’s better for him to take it, to hide it away somewhere. Xin Mo may be considered lost, but there are still stories about where it could be found, some of which he knows to be accurate.

(SJ isn’t sure why his new head disciple seems so worried about the Conference, he’s sure he’ll do fine — he’ll even bet on it, and get some money out of all that work training him that he put in. It’s just a simple competition — what could go wrong?)

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 2

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

series summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up. loosely inspired by the tv series one day!

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse, making out, titty sucking, blink and youll miss it dry humping (lmk if i missed something)

word count: 5.1k

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A/N: im so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter! im so sorry this took so long, this chapter was originally well over 8k so ive just decided to split it, which means the next chapter is pretty much ready maybe ill have it up by wednesday. thank you so much to everyone who interacted, hope you like this. [not beta read!]

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

divider credit @cafekitsune ! title of fic is from 'peter' by taylor swift.

Age 18

“i think that’s enough pictures, mum.” y/n held up her arms to shield herself from any more photographs her mother might take. she felt self-conscious enough already, grimacing at every picture, thinking how the flaws glaringly stood out. her parents thought she looked beautiful as always though, and wanted as many photos as possible to keep as memories of their daughter’s special night. only she didn’t want to believe there was anything so ‘special’ about it anyway.

she heard an impatient car honk coming from outside, just in time for her to make her exit. “let me at least take a picture of you and your date.” her well-meaning mother attempted, earning a whine from her daughter, “for the last time he’s not my date.” not really he wasn’t, they were just going as mates, nothing more, she reminded herself as she waved her parents a quick goodbye.

then why did her stomach flutter seeing aegon leaning against his irritatingly green, flashy sports car. taking a drag of his cigarette, his platinum hair was mostly gelled back, few strands allowed to fall to his eyes either fashionably or as a result of hurry. he was dressed simply, black suit and a white shirt. but seven hells did he wear the hell out of that suit, y/n had to admit. he looked neater than usual, the light stubble he usually carried had now been shaved off, his eyes didn’t look nearly as red as she was accustomed to. he even wore dress shoes, when truthfully y/n had been betting on him showing up in his usual jordans.

she couldn’t help but beam as she realised walking towards him, that all this effort he had made for her. aegon hadn’t even wanted to go to their senior prom. he’d said he would simply throw the after-party for the prom back at his mansion, where he wouldn’t be required to ‘come dressed as a penguin,’ in his words. the entire school knew about aegon’s famous ragers by now, and the night of senior prom was guaranteed to be the greatest ‘one-last-hurrah’.

it was y/n who had wanted to go, in order to live the full high school experience before they would be forced to enter the adult world after summer. and there was no one else she would have rather taken to prom. so, after countless hours begging and pleading (and some threatening), aegon finally relented. but his acquiescence hadn’t guaranteed to her that he would even bother following the dress code. yet, here they were.

she was going to comment on what a pleasant surprise it was to see him look like a ‘penguin,’ when she saw the look on his face. his eyes were suddenly alert and his mouth slightly agape, cigarette in his hand forgotten momentarily with his hand hanging still in the air holding it.

“what is it? do i have something on my face? on the dress?” she patted her cheek in alarm, before looking down at her dress. she’d chosen a simple black, satin dress that hugged her just right, pairing it with the deepest red lipstick she could find. she smoothened the front in anxiety, scared her high heels were going to make her trip on the fabric any second.

“no, it’s just...you look nice. very pretty.” her eyes focussed on aegon’s trying to gauge his expression, but his gaze remained transfixed on her figure.

“is it that shocking that i would look pretty, that you have to go and make that face?” she snorted. that snapped aegon’s attention back to her face with an eyeroll, “i didn’t mean it like that and you know it. you look good, would it kill you to just take the compliment?” her lips turned upwards at his words, “yeah i’m just messing with ya.” she tried to hide how the praise made her feel warm inside her chest.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, targaryen. look you’re even wearing the shoes and everything.” aegon grinned at the words giving a quick twirl to show off his full look. “who knew you had it in you?” she teased.

“had to step up my game. can't let my date outshine me, can i?"

date? the word rang in her ears. did aegon think this was an actual date?

“oh, please,” she tried to maintain a cool façade, seemingly uncaring of his words, “i've always outshined you.”

“only because i let you.” he claimed, flashing her one of those lazy half smiles of his that would make her mind wander to what else he was capable of doing with those lips—

she immediately shook her head to get that image out of her mind.

“got you something. well, technically mum got you something” aegon opened the passenger seat of the car, and retrieved from it a beautiful, very expensive looking bouquet. “she wouldn’t let me leave the house without flowers for my date” there it was, that word again, ‘date’!  she thought, astonished as she received them.

did aegon think this was a date? a date-date? was he expecting something? did she expect something? her mind started to race with a hundred things.

she had to clear her throat to bring herself back to the present, “these are beautiful, tell alicent i love them.”

“great, can we go now? i want to get the boring part over with so we can properly party later at my place.”

the prom itself ended up being less dreadful than aegon had been sure it was going to be. aegon spiked the drinks, and then proceeded to get his friends leon and martyn as drunk as possible. it didn’t escape y/n’s notice that aegon himself, was merely buzzed. she even dared to hope for a second that he was limiting his cups out of respect for her, and her very known hatred of his drinking himself into blackouts.

he remained clear-headed enough to laugh about and reminisce with her over their years at the academy. “no, i remember clearly, you’ve never once said sorry about making me fall on my first day.” y/n accused as she attempted to drink the very strong punch aegon had made for her. “and i remember very clearly, you came in my way.”

she narrowed her eyes at his blatant lie. “cunt.” he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at her drunken-vitriol. “and i think that’s quite enough for you.” he grabbed the cup out of her hands in spite of protests. “good gods, aegon targaryen preaching moderation? must be the apocalypse.” she nudged him playfully.

in that moment, smiling and laughing with her best friend, she couldn’t help but realise that this time of their life was coming to an end. come fall, they would be on different sides of the country.

y/n had been accepted at her first choice, sunspear university only weeks ago, but she hadn’t discussed it with aegon. he hadn’t spoken of his plans for university either but helaena had told her that their grandfather was using his pull to get him into the family alma mater, oldtown college.

any time she had attempted to so much as talk about life beyond school with aegon himself though, aegon would get irritated and cagey, eager to shut down any and all conversations about the future. then again she couldn’t blame him, for some reason her first instinct too had been to hide that acceptance letter from him.

yet as they stood there, she had a feeling that he was thinking about the same great uncertainty that lay ahead too. thinking, that their days of being by each other’s side like this every day were numbered.

“come on” he suddenly offered her his arms, getting a puzzled look in return. “you wanted the ‘full high school experience’ right? dancing at prom is kinda the main thing.”

she let him lead her to the dance floor, feeling her cheeks going red. he brought them right in the middle, and when he placed her arms around his neck, his own hands becoming placed around her waist, she couldn’t find a word to say.

couples around them were slow dancing to some song she couldn’t quiet place, and she couldn’t believe that aegon had willingly placed himself in the scene around them. this suit, the shoes, the dancing, the flowers – none of it was remotely close to his scene. yet she had barely heard him complain. she had to give it to him, he had been on his best behaviour because he knew how much the night meant to her.

“thank you,” she finally said, looking at him with adoration in her eyes. “for agreeing to come.”

aegon’s expression was unreadable at first. after a second he seemed like he was going to lean in towards her to say something, when his eye caught something behind y/n shoulder.

she turned her neck to see who it was and felt her heart drop down in her stomach.

cassandra baratheon, the most sought-after girl at school, her golden hair and confident demeanour were hard to miss. y/n looked up to see aegon was transfixed on the tight red dress she wore.

she felt his hands drop from her waist, “get you something to drink?” but he didn’t so much as look at his friend.

“sure” she mumbled, trying to mask her disappointment, but he didn’t wait for a response before he started walking towards the blonde.

she watched as aegon approached cassandra, his charm on full display. y/n sighed, tired of how predictable his routine was. she danced with a few classmates, trying to keep her spirits up, but it wasn’t the same without aegon.

after a while, she grew tired of pretending and slipped out of the ballroom, certain she wasn’t going to be followed by the only person she wanted to be with. she started walking in the direction of her home, too angry to think to call someone to pick her up.

the sound of her heels against the pavement and the chattering of her own teeth from the unexpectedly cold night couldn’t distract her from her woeful thoughts.

she should have expected this, she chided herself. aegon’s attention had always been fleeting, especially when it came to pretty girls. but it still hurt. she had hoped, maybe just for tonight, things would be different. at the beginning of the night he’d been giving her all his attention, and making her feel as if she was the only one who mattered in that room.

yet, he had to go ahead and ruin that, by chasing one more skirt to add to his long list of distractions from anything that could actually matter.

when she reached her house she was grateful her parents had long since gone to bed, not wanting to talk about her night.  she walked up to her room and changed into some comfortable clothes.

she curled up on her bed, but sleep seemed to escape her. she tossed and turned but she could not forget the look on her best friend’s face when he looked at cassandra baratheon, ignoring her. she couldn’t help but wish that the way his eyes trailed down her figure, the open lust with which he watched her, the desire that carried him away from her – she wanted it all to be hers.

it was perhaps the first time she had admitted it to herself. she wanted this, she wanted him and not just as a friend.

her mind then wandered to that one moment of hope she had not dared to let herself dwell on. the way his hands felt rested on her back, how he looked for a split second as if he were going to lean in to her, what might that have felt like if it had been allowed to go on? would he have kissed her? would his lips have felt as soft as they looked? would his tongue—

she didn’t realise when in the middle of all these wandering thoughts her hand had slipped down to underneath her shorts. over the cloth of her panties, she could feel a wetness building as she slowly rubbed the top of her entrance, her imagination building up the tension between her legs.

just as she was getting comfortable though, she got the fright of her life when she heard her window open. “fuck me!” she sat up straight on her bed, clutching her blanket in front of her chest.

she let out an exasperated breath at the now-messy platinum hair glinting in the moonlight, that she could make out even in the darkness of her room. she moved to get up and turn on the lamp next to her bed. the light revealed a slightly different aegon to the one she had left back at the dance, stumbling into her room.

his jacket now gone, his white shirt was untucked and the first few buttons had been left undone (one of them was missing, from what she could tell), the semi-open shirt allowed her to make out lipstick smears trailing his chest. his eyes were red, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to walk straight, told her he’d returned to drinking at his usual pace once she’d made her exit.

“what are you doing here?” she sighed, crossing her arms across her chest, both defensively and because her bra had been long discarded, which left the tank top she wore revealing far too much for her liking.

he almost looked earnest when he answered “came looking for you. you never showed up to the party at my place.”

“yeah, well i don’t like your parties” “sure you do!” he snorted

“no, aegon i don’t! i never have. i only ever come for you and i’m miserable the entire while, and you never notice!”

he looked hurt at her accusation, blinking as if it had never crossed his mind that she didn’t enjoy getting high and causing chaos as much as he did. that hurt quickly turned into anger of his own as he shot back.

“fine, even if you didn’t wanna come to the party, why did you leave prom so early? for weeks it’s all you wanted to do, going to prom. you dragged my ass there and then just ‘puff’ i turn my back for one second, and you’ve disappeared.” he sounded almost as if he felt abandoned, wounded.

“you seemed busy.” she cooly replied.

“busy?” aegon echoed, his brows furrowing. “i was just talking to people.”

y/n shook her head, her eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and frustration. “you always do this, aegon. you leave me for the first pretty girl that catches your eye.”

he shook his head as if y/n were being the unreasonable one here “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her voice rising. “because it feels like you’re always looking for a distraction. and tonight, i needed you.” her eyes burned as tears pooled in them. “it was our last night in school. it meant something.”

he flinched at her words, the truth of how much he had bruised her, cutting through the haze of alcohol. “i didn’t mean to—"

“didn’t mean to what? make me feel invisible?” y/n's voice softened, the anger giving way to sadness. “it’s like you don’t care.”

aegon stood there, steadying himself by leaning against the desk, looking deflated. “i do care, y/n. you’re my best friend.” she could tell he was trying, trying to make her see he cared, trying to be a good friend. the fact that he had left his own party simply to come look in on her, hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

but unluckily for him, y/n was tired of his constant trying when she knew it never led to any real change.

she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “we need to talk about something else, too. we’ve been avoiding it all year.”

aegon looked up at her, confusion and apprehension mingling in his eyes. “what do you mean?”

“college, aegon. you’re going to oldtown, and i’m headed to sunspear,” y/n said, her voice trembling slightly. “i’ve tried to bring it up, but you always change the subject.”

he looked away from her, fiddling with the rings on his fingers almost anxiously. “because i don’t want to think about it.”

“well too bad, because we have to discuss it” she insisted. “this is big. we’ve never so much as spent one summer break apart, you’ve dragged me to every family vacation and christmas dinner. but come fall, that’s over. you don’t think that’s important enough to even talk about? doesn’t it matter to you at all?”

“of course it matters!” he finally spat out, taking stumbling steps towards her. “i don’t want to talk about it because i know it’ll change everything.”

aegon’s eyes were glassy, his emotions threatening to spill over. “because you’ll be far away, making new friends, living a different life. you get to conveniently walk out on me and my fuck ups. i don’t want to talk about it because you’re leaving me.”

“leaving you?” the aegon that stood before her was shaking like a scared child, gone was the playful, laid back popular boy. for the first time that night, she could see clearly through him, the first time he’d allowed her to.

y/n moved closer, taking his hands in hers. “aegon, i could never leave you.” she promised. “you’re a part of me. distance doesn’t change that.”

“you say that now…” he mumbled, looking away as she caught tears running down his cheek.

“i’m not leaving you,” she repeated, more firmly this time, her heart aching for him. “we’ll find a way to make it work. i promise.”

“do you really mean that?” her hand reached out to his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “with all my heart,” she whispered. the vulnerability in his eyes was raw and unfiltered as he confessed “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t,” she assured him, putting her arms around him as she pulled him into a tight embrace. “we’ll figure it out, together.” she sounded sure, determined.

he clung to her, and she could smell the weed and cigarettes on his shirt, she knew that he wasn’t as clear-headed as he should have been for the conversation they were having. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, y/n.” he muttered into her hair. she smiled against his chest. “lucky for you, you don’t ever have to find out.”

as one of his hands trailed down to her lower back, she suddenly felt her shorts were far too short for her to be having company. his other hand started to rub at her side, his thumb brushing up against the side of her breast and lingering just enough that she knew he could tell she was bare beneath her flimsy cotton top.

they’d been standing in silence for a minute when he suddenly spoke up, “i’m sorry that i mess everything up, you deserved to have me there with you tonight.”

his hand had stopped right by her cleavage, causing her throat to dry up. “it was just a stupid dance.”

“yeah, but it mattered to you.” he brought his other hand to her ass, as he pulled apart slightly to look down at her. her breathing became rapid as she looked back up at him.

in that moment, the tension between them shifted. aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against hers hesitantly. y/n responded, closing the distance again, with more passion.

there was a sense of urgency, a rush as his tongue entered her mouth. the hand on her ass moved to slip past her shorts and panties to grab at her bare skin, causing her to moan into his mouth. her own hands attempted to undo the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt, before letting her fingers roam around his exposed chest.

he pushed them back, till she felt the edge of her bed behind her making her fall back on it, pulling him down with her as she went.

his mouth moved to trail sloppy, wet kisses on her neck, and then down to her collarbone. she could feel him use his teeth, marking her for the next day.

situated as he was between her legs, she could feel his semi-hard on from under his pants, rubbing against her in the most delicious way making her wrap her legs tighter around him, to feel that friction more intensely.

his mouth broke away from her now-sensitive skin momentarily, as he lifted her top enough to expose her breasts to him. his hands roughly gripped the flesh, making y/n gasp with how cool his rings felt pressed to her skin.

his mouth then took in one of her nipples, as she whimpered at the sensation, her fingers pulling his hair as he flicked it with his tongue, before sucking on it.

when he finally lifted his head to look up at y/n, she couldn’t believe the scene before her. in that moment aegon was looking her with a hunger and wanting, that she didn’t think he’d even given cassandra baratheon.

what might come next though, made y/n nervous. she’d never gone this far with a boy before, reasoning with herself that she’d never liked anyone enough. but she could admit to herself now that she’d been waiting to share that experience with aegon, waiting for him to come around.

still, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go all the way, or how to do it if she was.

thankfully for her, aegon reached ahead and merely kissed her lips once more, softer this time. then, even more unexpectantly, he placed a final, tender kiss atop her head, before climbing off from between her thighs and crashing down on the pillow beside her.

she blinked at the figure of him, lying next to her completely relaxed, as if what they’d just done was so routine, it didn’t warrant another thought. “get that lamp light next to you, would you?” he yawned.

as if in a daze, y/n wordlessly switched the light off, plunging the room into darkness.

she could hear him breathing beside her, close enough to block her nose with the smell of cigarettes she was sure she’d have to wash out of the sheets the next day. but with his pale hair falling like that against his fluttering eyes, she knew he was the only person she wanted, flaws and all.

drowsiness began to take over her after sometime, and she wasn’t sure if she actually heard him mumbling “love you” or if she’d dreamt it but she drifted off with a faint smile on her face nonetheless.

the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over y/n’s room. she stirred awake, stretching out lazily when her eyes fell on to the snoring boy beside her. she couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful his face looked, her hand stretching out to tuck behind the strands of platinum falling to his eyes.

she tried to be as quiet as she could in walking to her bathroom. standing in front of her mirror, she noticed the now purpling hickey right by her collarbone. she still couldn’t quite believe that the events of last night had actually occurred, but the evidence was staring her right in the face. her fingertips grazed the bruise, and the corners of her lips turned upwards automatically.

she washed her face and brushed her teeth in a haze, where all she could think about was what was going to happen next. would she and aegon have a conversation about it, or would he pretend it was nothing? oh god, what if he regretted it? the thought made her tense. instead of going back to her room she sat on the edge of her bathtub, nervously thinking about what impact last night would have on their friendship. she couldn’t imagine losing aegon, she thought. if it came down to taking whatever happened yesterday forward or saving their friendship, she would pick the latter, she determined. before she could lose her nerve, she decided to go back to her room with that thought.

upon her return she realised the object of all her anxiety was already up, rubbing his eyes with his palms and groaning, clearly nursing a hangover. her heart suddenly started to pound in her chest. “you’re up early. it’s not even noon yet.” she teased as she came to sit by him. “and morning to you too” he grumbled.

“how are you feeling?” she hesitantly asked, “like i got hit by a bus,” he said, attempting a weak grin.

she gave him a faint chuckle. she looked around the room as silence filled the space. she was hoping that he’d be the one to bring up last night, rather than making her go through the embarrassment and awkwardness of coming to that topic.

how did you even start that conversation? she wondered as she pulled at a few strands of embroidery coming untethered from the rest of her bedsheet. ‘hey last night was the best kiss i’ve ever had, let’s do it again sometime soon’? no, that wasn’t it. she stole a glance at aegon who had picked up his phone, neither of them having said anything to break the silence. i could start by telling him how i’ve always liked him? no that would definitely activate his commitment-phobia, and he’d go running out the door, she realised. sitting this long without either of them talking felt far too weird and she started to panic slightly.

she kept thinking if he was going to approach the topic, wondering if she should instead, when suddenly aegon got off her bed.

“what have we got here” he walked over to the basket where some of her old toys had been kept for her mother to donate when she went to college. “nothing just some old things” she replied, surprised that this was what he wanted to discuss now. he seemed to be entertaining himself by going through her things as if he hadn’t been in her room a hundred times before.

well, if he was going to avoid it, y/n decided she should be the one to rip off the band-aid. she cleared her throat to start speaking, when he suddenly cut her off, “do you still have that lightsabre i gave you for your 12th birthday? the one that used to light up and all?” “no, because you broke it playing with it in my garden that same day you gifted it.” she reminded him, “right…” he muttered, before going back to his rummaging.

this time she stood up and walked over to him, and started to say, “y’know i think we should talk—” “what’s ollie doing here?” grinning, he grabbed an old red octopus from the basket and lifted one of its stuffed tentacles to wave at her. “did this mean old lady steal you from me ollie?” “no, you stole him from me, remember? and alicent had to return it back” she reminded him, snatching the toy back from him in irritation. if he was going to keep mucking about, she was never going to be able finish what she wanted to say.

she exhaled a big sigh, and built up her courage again, “we have to talk about last night—” “yeah, what did happen last night?”

she could only blink, as aegon nonchalantly asked, not even bothering to look up from the box of broken, dusty toys. “what do you mean ‘what happened’?”

“as in how did i end up in your bed?” he laughed, “don’t remember much after us arriving at prom” her heart sank at his words. “you blacked out.” she said in realisation. she turned around and walked back to sit on her bed so he wouldn’t see her wounded expression.

he didn’t even remember what was possibly one of the biggest moments of her life, something so monumental that she’d woken up this morning as if waking up to a new life. all those years she'd spent unknowingly pining for him, she’d thought that now there was finally some hope that she could actually be with him. but one little sentence from him had made her memory of last night dissipate like a mirage.

what had she even been thinking, he was drunk out of his mind and was probably barely in knowledge of himself when they did what they did last night. it was a mistake, and it should have never happened. she couldn’t control the tears slipping down her cheeks, her back facing aegon to shield herself subconsciously.

“you were pretty drunk. you climbed up to my room and we talked for a while. you fell asleep here.” she answered in robotic narration, not daring a look at him. she wiped her face quickly as she heard him stop with his aimless search and come sit next to her.

“sounds accurate. i do anything stupid i should know about?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. it was the standard question he asked when he blacked out. for a second, she wondered if she should tell him everything.

y/n shook her head, smiling faintly. “no, you didn't. just needed a place to crash.”

she thought about it rationally – even if they did talk about last night, what was going to be the best-case scenario? he would be glad of what he did? but even then, what would happen next? she was going to dorne, and him to the reach, and a long distance anything was going to be impossible enough. here they were nervous about their friendship surviving the distance, but a relationship? she couldn’t see any way this would end well.

and this was considering if aegon even wanted any of it. last night may have been special for her, but if drunken fooling around and crashing into bed was all it took to get him to pursue someone romantically, half the school was ahead of her in that line.

this was the best thing for both of them, she sadly thought, to preserve their friendship.

him putting his arm across her shoulders and squeezing her brought her out of her miserable thoughts, “thanks for looking out for me, as always.”

“of course,” she replied softly. “that's what friends are for.”

aegon met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “yeah, best friends.”

a few minutes later she left momentarily to get herself a glass of water but by the time she returned, her room was empty with her window left open and her red octopus missing once again from her bed.

[s-soulwriter]

Twist for your story

Ever wondered why a well-crafted twist is crucial in a story? It's like the element of surprise that keeps you engaged, challenges your expectations, and ultimately makes the narrative memorable. A great twist is the heart of intrigue in storytelling. Here are some you can use!

The Sentient Object: Twist: An ordinary object, like a book, a mirror, or a piece of jewelry, is revealed to be sentient and possesses its own consciousness. It becomes a key player in the story, guiding or manipulating the characters.

The Collective Memory: Twist: A group of characters, seemingly unrelated, share a mysterious collective memory or dream that connects them in unexpected ways. They must work together to decipher the meaning behind these shared experiences.

The Language of Magic: Twist: Magic in your world is governed by a unique language or code. As the story unfolds, characters discover that the language itself is sentient and can influence events and outcomes.

The Eldritch Revelation: Twist: Characters stumble upon ancient texts or artifacts that contain forbidden knowledge about cosmic horrors or eldritch beings. The revelation of this knowledge threatens their sanity and forces them to confront incomprehensible entities.

The Mythical Betrayal: Twist: A character believed to be a mythical hero or savior turns out to be the story's true villain, deceiving everyone around them. The actual hero must rise from obscurity to confront this unexpected antagonist.

The Reverse Time Travel: Twist: Instead of traveling to the past or future, characters unwittingly bring historical or future figures into their present. They must adapt to the challenges and paradoxes this brings, all while trying to return these displaced individuals.

The Living Ecosystem: Twist: The entire world or ecosystem of the story is revealed to be a living, interconnected entity, and the characters' actions have profound consequences on its well-being. They must make choices that protect or harm this sentient world.

The Forgotten Prophecy: Twist: Characters initially believe in a well-known prophecy, only to discover that the true prophecy has been hidden or forgotten, and its revelation drastically changes the course of their journey.

The Inverted Morality: Twist: A society where good is evil and evil is good is introduced, challenging characters' beliefs and forcing them to question their own moral compasses.

The Quantum Reality Shift: Twist: The story shifts between multiple parallel realities or dimensions, and characters must navigate the complexities of these shifting worlds to achieve their goals.

The Manipulative Reader: Twist: It is revealed that a character within the story has the ability to influence the actions and decisions of the other characters, essentially "writing" the story's plot from within.

The Protagonist Swap: Twist: Midway through the story, the perspective switches from the original protagonist to a secondary character, offering a fresh viewpoint and challenging readers' assumptions about the narrative's focus.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

[unoislazy]

Healing Takes Time

(Part 2)

I wasn’t originally going to make a part 2 considering I just wanted everyone to wallow in their sadness. Buuuuttt there were enough people asking for it so I figured I’d be nice just this once and make a Part 2. Can’t guarantee it’ll be good though.

Disclaimer; NSFW is hinted at but never explicitly stated (may come in a later part if I actually want to continue this more)

————————————————————

A day had passed.

A week.

A month.

A year.

Then a few years.

So much time had gone by and you still stared at your door in anticipation sometimes, hoping Mizu would come walking back in. Even if she had returned to you beaten and bloody asking for you to fix her up, you would in a heartbeat. You missed her more than words could ever even think to describe.

You missed her company, you missed her help, you missed… her.

You had only known each other for a few months but the kiss you had shared lingered with you for as long as you waited. A few times you had almost convinced yourself to stop hoping; she had something she needed to do, what reason was there for her to come back to you? Sometimes you worried that she might have died in pursuit of her quest, maybe you should’ve gone with her, at least you could offer her some sort of help.

Not like it mattered now.

You had no way of telling where she was, if she was okay, or if she even wanted to come back.

You hoped she at least thought of you as much as you did of her.

During the time that had passed, you decided to set up a medicinal shop. At least you would have something to fully focus on with your time instead of spending most of it worrying about a woman who you believed had no intention of coming back to you.

Business was slow at first.

Really slow.

You had to put yourself out there, let people know that you were there and what your purpose was.

Thankfully, as time went on, and the more drunkards that managed to stumble their way in after being harshly thrown out, word of your practice spread throughout the town. Any time anyone felt sick, in pain, dizzy, drowsy, anything at all, they came to you. It almost got to the point people treated you as if you had some magic healing power, which of course you didn’t, just a lengthy amount of herbal and medicinal knowledge.

You were happy and before long you had somewhat forgotten about the strange samurai that had graced your presence all those years ago.

Of course you never fully forgot, but she was no longer in the forefront of your mind. If anything she had drifted into a distant memory of what could have been had the stars aligned for you that day.

You often thought about how you’d feel if she had entered your life once again and you never had a clear answer. You’d feel happy that she had returned, angry that she left in the first place, and afraid that she would leave again. Would she look the same as she did when she left? Would she even recognize you? Would she have come back looking for you or would she have simply stumbled across you.

You had a million questions and most of which you had to come to terms with the fact that they might never be answered.

You yawned, turning over on your bed as you stretched, trying to wake yourself up the best you could to start a new day. Now that you had a business to tend to, days off were not a very common thing, but you didn’t entirely mind. More time to yourself meant more time thinking about things that truly didn’t matter.

You finally rolled out of your bed, throwing your sheet off of you and standing up. Just because you liked the distraction doesn’t mean you had to enjoy every aspect of going to work.

You spent time getting yourself ready, at least making some effort to look nice, before you had finally walked out of your house.

You walked down the ever muddy road, passing by others who were starting their day, some who lived there, some who didn’t. As you walked down the road, you spotted a familiar hat walking about amongst the crowd. You didn’t think much of it, many people wore the same type of hat, you’d be a fool to get your hopes up over something so small.

And yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

You abandoned your usual path to your shop, making your way in the general direction of the hat owner, but not making it obvious that you were heading towards them. After all, if it hadn’t actually been Mizu you wanted to at least have the ability to deny ever heading towards them in the first place. You made your way over, dodging and weaving between the people who walked through the busy street and just as you had made it over you saw,

A man.

A man who looked nothing like Mizu.

You knew it, you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, but why listen to your consciousness. You sighed, walking away from the man and heading back on your original path. You knew it wouldn’t be her and yet there was still a part of you that believed she would come back. You felt like an idiot, more than that, you felt like an absolute moron.

Why were you so hung up on this woman that you spent a few months with several years ago. You should be over her by now, you knew she’d have to leave eventually and she did, what was your issue?

Your issue was you loved her. Oh how you hated admitting that, but you loved her more than you had loved anyone in a long time. You both knew she wouldn’t stay, you both got attached, but it felt like you had gotten more attached than she had, and you hated it. If she truly loved you the same amount, why couldn’t she just stay with you? Why did she have to leave?

You wanted to move on, you had to move on, but you couldn’t. No one else had caught your eye since, and you were certain no one else would make you feel the same way she had when you had spent time together.

You too never went far, only sharing that one simple kiss and yet it was all you needed to confirm that you truly loved her.

You sighed again, finally reaching your shop.

It wasn’t common for doctors or anyone with medicinal practice to not just go to peoples houses, but you liked doing things differently. Besides, most of the people you treated were cast out and likely didn’t live around here anyways.

You set up your usual things, tending to some of the plants and herbs you kept around, making sure everything was in its place before you waited.

Oftentimes you wouldn’t get many sellers in the morning, most people were still waking up and going to their own jobs by this point in the day, but you thought it necessary to at least be ready for anything one might deal with during the day.

You sat waiting for a few hours before you finally had someone walk in. A very tall and lanky man that wore a blue outfit. If it hadn’t been for his face, you might’ve thought he was Mizu. He simply asked for some help with soreness which you treated and sent him on his way. After him, the rest of your clients began to pour in, all asking for different treatments and medicines, most of which were just really simple solutions.

You definitely enjoyed your job, helping people was something you always loved to see.

Your day continued on, people going in and out all day until you had gotten a different client.

“Just one second!” You called from the other room, having heard the door slide open. You had been moving some of your things around, giving yourself more room and organizing a bunch. You don’t know why you did it considering you always ended up rearranging things, but it never hurt to at least try and have a system. You wiped your hands clean of the dirt that was never there as you entered the man room again.

“Okay, what can I help you w-”

You froze.

Standing before you was what at first you thought to be a man, but upon closer inspection you realized that standing before you was no man, it was…

“Mizu?” You asked, you felt almost as if you had just been imagining it. There was no way that she was standing there right in front of you, not after the several people you had confused to be her throughout the day, this had to have just been one of those times… Just to an extreme and unhealthy amount.

The woman before you held an expression you couldn’t read entirely. She looked as if she was happy to see you but there was something else hidden in her expression that you couldn’t quite grasp. You cautiously walked towards her as if you made any sudden movements she would just fade away.

You were now standing in front of her, a bit of a distance between you two, but you were still close enough to see the details on her face. You very carefully reached up, your hand grazing against her skin as you took her glasses off, her blue eyes never looking away as she let you do so. Your other hand had now come up, cupping her face as you dropped her glasses on the ground. All the emotions you thought you’d feel were there, but they were much stronger than you originally anticipated. At that moment though, all you felt was relief. She was alive, she came back, and now she was standing in front of you.

You didn’t know how to express your feelings in any other way than moving forward and kissing her much like you had done the day you left. You both leaned into the kiss, all the yearning and desperation you had held back for so many years came back full force as you held her gently between your hands. She too had moved you closer, not wanting to let you go after so many years of being apart.

That was until you pulled away for a moment, the one question still running through your mind,

“Why did you leave?” You asked, your eyes filled with the pain of several years alone as you stared at her. She averted your gaze at first, clearly not wanting to answer as she went silent.

“We both knew I'd have to.” She finally answered, still not wanting to look at you.

“I knew you wanted to but you didn’t have to.” You argued, you knew she was going to leave regardless and there was no changing her mind when she did. But that foolish part of you still had held out hope that she would just change her mind and stay with you, and that foolish part of you is the reason you were hurt so badly now. If you hadn’t held onto that hope for so long, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“I did. I had to finish what I started.” Mizu claimed, and she stood by that claim. It was the truth after all.

“And how long did that take to finish?” You asked. If she had come back right after she had finished her task, you wouldn’t have been so angry, but instead it only fueled your anger as you realized she had gone quiet.

“What, so you just stayed away? Why?”

She stayed silent.

“Mizu. Why?” You persisted. You tried to keep your anger up but your demand for answers slowly began to turn to pleading. You were upset, you wanted to be angry, but in reality you were just hurt. You held out hope for so long that she would return and yet she never did, you thought she died, you thought maybe she had been left badly wounded, but no. She had finished her mission and just refused to come back to you.

“Why?” You asked once more, her silence was the last thing you wanted right now, you wanted her to say something, anything.

“I was afraid.” She finally admitted. Her eyes were shut, she didn’t even want to see the look on your face as you processed what she had said.

“Afraid of what? What could you possibly be afraid of?” You scoffed. In your mind she was a samurai, someone who had faced death and laughed in its face several times. In your mind, she had absolutely nothing to fear.

“That when I returned you wouldn’t see anything but a monster.” She began. You couldn’t see it but her eyes had ever so slightly begun to tear up, she covered it smoothly, not wanting you to notice as she continued, “I was afraid that you would realize that I am nothing more than just a demon with a sword.”

You simply stared at her for a moment.

“Have you learned absolutely nothing about me?”

Her eyes finally shifted towards you, confusion riddling every inch of her face.

“I don’t care about any of that, Mizu.” You began. Now finally having your answer to why she had stayed away, you no longer felt so angry, if anything you were more upset with the fact that she assumed you would react in such a way. “I don’t care what color your eyes are or how good you are with a sword and I certainly don’t care that you’re a woman.” You lightly joked, earning a small exhale in acknowledgement from Mizu. You made your way back over to her, now standing in front of her just as you had done before.

You had spent so much time worrying over her only for her to be avoiding you because of a silly assumption she had made on her own.

“I'm sorry.” She quietly said, her eyes not meeting your own as she continued, “It’s a habit. I just kind of expect it at this point.” She admitted with a shrug. You frowned, hearing such a hearvy admission as if it was nothing that upset you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to change her way of thinking but you could at least try and convince her about how you felt.

“Well what’s important is that you’re back.” You said with a smile. “You plan on staying right?” You asked, your smile dropping for a moment as you awaited her answer. You didn’t want her to leave again, you didn't want to finally be able to feel her again just for her to disappear as if she never existed in the first place. Any amount of distraction in the world wouldn’t be enough to keep you from the despair and anger you’d feel if she had left a second time.

“Of course I am.” She confirmed, a slight smile gracing her face as you happily hugged her. It would be a bit of a weird adjustment for the both of you given your new schedule but those were issues for future you to worry about. Right now all that matters was you and Mizu, and a very much still open medicinal shop that still had clients waiting for help. Once you finally realized this, you had given a place for Mizu to wait as you had continued to help clients, sometimes she even gave her own input on things, having needed certain items for certain issues herself. Although her expertise mainly centered around open wounds and gashes which, surprise surprise, was not all that common when you weren’t going out of your way to fight people every chance you got. You appreciated the help nonetheless.

The sun had already set as you finished up for the day. Mizu had helped you put some things away and get everything ready for the next day. You were beyond delighted to see her again, even just watching her put things away was enough to send you soaring. She might’ve been on the leaner side but Mizu was still uncommonly strong, and you couldn’t help but admire her any chance you got, of course when she wasn’t looking. You certainly weren’t giving her the heavier items to lift for that exact reason, who would ever think to do such a thing?

Once you both had finished up, you slid the door behind you both and began to walk back towards the direction of your house.

“I missed you.” You admitted quite out of the blue. It was clear you both missed each other but neither of you had outwardly said those three words yet, so you figured you’d be the first. Little did you know just the effect they had on Mizu, no one had ever said something like that directed towards her, she felt so… loved.

“I missed you too.”

One wouldn’t expect a relationship that has such little time to blossom to actually thrive but you two worked very well together.

Once you had finally made it inside, you both got yourselves situated and comfortable. Mizu took a small look around, getting used to her surroundings just like she once had. You could see a faint smile on her face as she walked about, looking at the decorations around your home, most of which had not been changed but two or three had been replaced. She then stopped and began to stare at the painting that she had sat and stared at so many times before.

“Hey Mizu?” You called for her, gaining her attention as she looked towards you. You had only changed to a more comfortable outfit, if anything it had resembled what you had worn the day you met Mizu, but something about her shifted.

“Do you mind helping me with this?” You asked, referring to something that you couldn’t tie from behind your back. She obliged, not many emotions could be seen on her face, but she definitely looked deep in thought.

You had made your way over to her, turned around and waited for her to finish tying whatever you had needed help with. However, you couldn’t feel her tying anything, in fact you couldn’t feel her moving at all. That’s because she wasn’t, she had waited for just a moment before she leaned over your shoulder, whispering quietly in your ear,

“How about we make this easier and just make up for lost time?” She teased. It was a small gesture but it was enough to send what felt like a whirlwind through your stomach. You turned back to look at her expecting her to be joking considering you had never heard her speak in such a way but when you had turned back you were met with eyes that were filled with a certain kind of hunger.

She wasn’t joking.

And you’d be damned if you were going to miss this opportunity.

[devilander]

homelander x original female character

A young, newly presented Homelander met Posey Eldridge-Mercier, talented Music student, and was instantly besotted. Connecting over trauma and shared passions, Homelander and Posey thrived in the chaos of their romance—until Vought's interference led them bitterly astray.

Thirteen years later, they meet again; and perhaps what they say is true. No matter how brutal, what you love is your fate.

"There is no democracy in any love relation: only mercy." Gillian Rose

see ao3 for more

After Posey, music lost its place in his life. 

He could still hear it, though. Phantom pain. What those sad, pathetic cripples say they felt—pain in limbs no longer attached, no longer existent. Just like Posey—no more than a phantom, a minutiae of frilly moments he'd all but forgotten. Yet, the music, the intensity of the piano (Rachmaninoff, no?), the fragility of the violin (Dvořák, right?), her dainty fingers both precise and firm; he could still hear it, now and then, as if being suddenly transported to the past. 

He couldn't fucking stand it. 

It was an unspoken rule for those at Vought Tower—from the miserable little ants to Maeve—that certain... tunes were forbidden, unless they wished for him to break their legs. Even humming, if Homelander was in a particularly foul mood, could make him snap. It had happened what, four? Seven? A dozen times? he mused, clenching his fists, a painful smile stretching his face as he listened to random investors, whose names he'd already forgotten, prattle on and on—stock prices, the company's EBITDA, ripples of rising interest. 

A rehearsed act, one he'd mastered many years ago, but grating all the same, to stand still and pretend he actually gave a shit. And the fucking music—

It was a special gala. A celebration of Vought's anniversary; an excuse for networking while booze flowed freely. The New York Philharmonic had been hired, and as the conductor took to the stage, everyone present went back to their seats. Homelander was considering leaving the event entirely—to hell with those cocksuckers—when he noticed it. As the violinists started, intensely, poignant, after the grave sounds of cellos and double basses, one sway of hands in particular called to his memory. 

Even as his eyes took her in, he couldn't believe it. It was like being doused in freezing water (oh, and he was familiar with the feeling, Vogelbaum eager to test his limits, watching calmly as water filled his lungs without killing him). And when Posey's eyes, relaxed and focused, for a brief second found his, he was certain he wouldn't, or couldn't, breathe again. The fucking nerve, how dare she? He was ensnared by his rage. 

He could do it right now, laser her into oblivion as he had done with Madelyn. He could get on the stage, grab her by the neck and—what? Snap it? Have his way with her, in front of all to see? No, no, that would cause quite a scene. He could be patient, wait for the presentation to end while he pondered on what he'd do as soon as he got his hands on Posey once again. Privately, after so long. 

keep reading on ao3!

[crazyk-imagine]

Soldier Boy

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x Supe!reader

Characters: Benjamin "Soldier Boy", Hughie, Billy Butcher, Frenchie, Kimiko Miyashrio, MM "Mothers Milk", Annie "Starlight" Janurary

Warnings: Angst, minor fluff, the boys show is a warning itself, things get rough, ben was brainwashed, reader was forced into hiding, ben loves you but sucks at it, reader wants to kick his ass, a lot goes on here lol

Word Count: 1.9k

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

“I’m sorry there’s another one of you?” Billy asks.

Ben grunts, furrowing his brows. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Frenchie and Kimiko share a look.

“Well- uh- there’s- there’s another supe that was… a part of your team?” Hughie adds with a calm and slow tone, as if he’s talking down a child throwing a tantrum.

“What do you mean? There wasn’t-” He pauses, thinking back to his time before the payback team was officially formed. “You’re lying.” He steps towards Hughie, causing Billy to stand before him.

“Watch yourself, mate.”

“Then his little fuck face mouth better start yapping.”

“Do you really not remember?” Hughie can’t help but ask.

“Does it look like I fucking know what you’re talking about?”

The non-supe jumps at his tone. “Okay, okay. Fair enough. Well,” he gulps, “before there was payback, you- you had a partner.”

“Oh shit,” Frenchie mutters. “The original woman.”

Hughie closes his eyes, slightly shaking his head at his buddy’s poor choice of words. “I wouldn’t use those words exactly but yes.” He turns back to Ben. “She was basically Wonder Woman before Wonder Woman but… cooler. She-”

“She didn’t play by anyone’s rules, much less Voughts.”

Hughie nods, “ex- exactly. You remember her don’t you?”

“Those little dick pricks.” He growls under his breath, taking another hit of his joint. “Fucking erased my memories.”

Billy brows rise to his forehead, “you mean to tell me those dickheads can erase our minds now?”

Ben huffs, “only those who can beat them. Where is she?”

“Uh- see that’s- that’s the thing. We- uh- we don’t know exactly.”

He narrows his eyes at the young man, knowing if he had laser vision, he’d use it.

“They put her away before you rose to fame, which is why her name isn’t familiar.”

-

He enters the bathroom and slams the door shut, causing the walls to shake, almost simulating an earthquake.

He stares into the mirror, reminiscing of a younger him, not that he’s aged but he’s battling an internal battle.

How could he have forgotten you?

Why did they take you away?

Why didn’t he realize it sooner?

He pulls his fist back and listens to the blood rushing through his hand as the glass shatters, falling into the sink, on the counter and to the floor.

He opens the door, pretending like nothing happened. “Alright, how do we find someone who’s been hidden?”

“I have an idea,” Annie adds.

“What’s the plan?” MM asks.

“And no explosions,” Billy adds, glaring at Ben.

“I’m not a fucking kid who needs to be told what to do.”

-

You moan in pain, the container gets colder.

Everything hurts.

You want to give up.

-

He slows down his pace, his body feels colder. He glances down, seeing nothing happening.

His expression hardens, he knows it’s you.

Those fuckers- he should have killed them when he had the chance.

He can tell by the way his heart hurts, it's you but the not remembering hurts him, but why does it hurt so much?

He can’t imagine the magnitude of your relationship having this much of an affect on him.

Fuck, why can't he remember?

-

You want to scream but it’s hard when the mask is snapped in place.

You hate them, hate Vought, hate what they made you.

-

He can’t help but ignore everyone’s wishes to quiet down as he kicks in the door.

His eyes scan around the room before stopping on your previous prison.

He turns, lowering his head; lips snarling at the sight of his precious girl in that damn ice box. “You fuckers have some unpaid debt, I’m here to collect.”

Kimiko pulls Hughie and Frenchie back, the heat already emanating off him before he could let it out.

The cries and plea’s to live and fear of dying do nothing, if anything it’s white noise.

-

More smoke enters your lungs, it’s harder to stay awake.

You don’t want to close your eyes but it’s been harder to hold your breath these last few months.

You don’t know how much longer you can hold on.

It’s like ice crystals are forming in your veins.

-

He lifts his shield and stares down at the bloody mess of what used to be a man- or a woman- he doesn’t care. He straightens himself and takes careful, rushed steps towards you.

He listens for your heartbeat, needing to know if this is all just some sick and twisted lie or if the woman he’s dreaming about is really here.

He leans over and finds your cold face.

The difference between you and him, he got hotter (in more ways than-) and you, you’re cold to the touch and he hasn’t even opened it yet.

“Baby,” he mumbles, the nickname foreign and so familiar on his tongue; it makes him sick to his stomach. He slips his fingers under the handle and lifts it, not caring if he breathes it in too.

“Holy-”

“We came all this way for a dead body?” Billy grunts.

“She’s not fucking dead.”

“Oh my god, they- they preserved her like-”

“The perfect doll they made her.” Ben takes a deep breath, not wanting to blow up… and potentially hurt you.

He can hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and knows you’re under; he doesn’t care how long, he breaks apart the container with his gloved hands.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He lifts your limp figure out and tosses it over his shoulder, keeping his shield in his grasp in case he needs to defend you. “Come on, pansies. Let’s get a fucking move on.”

“Are we really just gonna wait around and see if she wakes up? What if she’s like him but even more violent?” Annie asks.

“She wouldn’t,” Ben hisses. He thought it was interesting that a non-supe was fucking a supe but then realized two annoying people make his head pound.

“If you’re too scared to stick around and find out who she is, then get the fuck out of my face before I mess up yours.”

Hughie pulls her out of the room before she could say anything.

-

Ben turns back to your cold figure. “I don’t care how long it is until you wake up, I’m not leaving your side,” he mutters under his breath.

-

You didn’t realize how long it had been since you moved a muscle until now.

Air fills your lungs, seeming like you can breathe for the first time.

You open your eyes to find the room engulfed in darkness. Your eyes take in the room, stopping on the sleeping figure in the chair near the bed.

When were beds so comfortable?

You push yourself off and take a step towards him, almost collapsing at the sensation in your legs.

You close your eyes and take a moment to process everything.

Your eyes snapping to the left, where noise comes from on the other side of the door.

You glance down at Ben and back to the door, you move away from him.

The hinges squeak and you don’t care if he hears or not, the sound of people talking worsens your headache.

You stand in the hallway, covering your eyes at the lights above.

They stop and stare at you, jaws dropping.

The asian female next to the scruffy man, signs to him, asking what to do.

You sign back and ask her to tell the others to quiet down, all the noise hurts your head.

She owlishly blinks, unsure if she saw what she did.

Frenchie sits there stunned, happy his girl could have someone to communicate with but sad he can’t understand fully what it was you said.

You turn and almost bump into him.

He glances at you, wondering what’s going on inside your head and where you learned sign language. “Sweet-” He groans, staring at the broken dry wall particles floating through the air.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Billy groans.

You glance over at him over your shoulder, the light reflecting off your eyes, causing a flicker of bright light to emanate off them.

He furrows his brows at the sight, sharing a look with MM and Annie.

Ben pushes himself off the ground and glances at you, wondering where the hell this strength has been. He takes a deep breath, wondering what’s going on in your head. “What the hell was that?”

So much for mystery.

You glare at him. “Don’t fucking look at me like that,” you tell him with a raspy voice.

He’s stunned, you weren’t one to curse, even when someone pissed you off so much.

“What the fuck happened?” You aim for him, holding him up by the collar of his shirt. “What the fuck happened to me?”

He glances down at you, ignoring the stares he gets from the others. “I need you to let me down, baby so I can explain everything.”

Your blood boils at his voice.

The memories of the tape recorder playing as you entered that stupid fucking room.

The beginning of the end.

He furrows his brows at the sight of your red, glowing eyes.

Had he been a non supe, he'd probably shit himself thinking you were gonna blow his head off.

You tighten your grip on his neck and slam his head into the wall before letting him fall under your hand.

You walk away before anything can happen to them.

-

You enter the room you found yourself in and talk deep breaths.

You overcame this before and you can do it again.

Ben grunts as he follows you, wondering what the hell just happened. He enters the room and holds his head. He groans, rubbing the palm of his hands into his eyes.

He raises his head in time to see steam radiating off you.

He reaches for you only for his hand to fall at his side as you race to the bathroom.

The door slams shut.

He listens to you, the heavy breathing and the way your hands shake as you try to calm down. “Sweetheart?” He knocks once. “Let me in and I can explain everything.

“No,” you groan.

The shower turns on, you sit in the tub.

He opens the door, knowing you didn't lock the door.

His eyes fall on your figure and walks in, turning off the water.

“Flamer?” He whispers, smiling at your flaming body.

“Soldier?” You stare at him with a wounded expression.

He reaches for your cheek and you pull away.

He reaches for you again. “How could they keep you from me?”

You close your eyes and lean your head into his hand.

You're hot to the touch but he doesn't care especially as he watches the fire die down, his hand no longer engulfed by your tender flames.

-

After much talking, he got you out of the bathroom and comfortable on the bed as he explained it all, more or less dancing around the reason they pulled him out of his prison.

“Does anybody want to explain why the fuck there's ash in the bathroom?” Billy asks.

“I'll pay you back once we're done.”

The man with a plan rolls his eyes. 

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Eleven: Normalcy

Chapter WC: 11,172

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: This chapter is 95% dialogue, and yes I could’ve cut it but…I didn’t want to.

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After a fitful sleep, one fraught with nightmares, you wake early the next morning. 

You’ve taken to writing down your dreams when you wake, no longer confident that the nightmares are truly that and not something more prophetic. After Felucia, you know better. 

You don't write down much, just the barest of details, and a vague recollection, but it's enough. And, when you read them back, a pattern emerges. Ever since you awoke in the medbay, you've been dreaming about golden fields, dust and smoke, and a searing pain in your chest so intense, you wake up gasping. 

There's no one else, just the grass, and the dirt, and the wind, and, above it all, the feeling of something horrible about to happen. It's the same every time. Over and over again in a loop, and you're growing tired of it. And despite your efforts, you're no closer to understanding it.

You haven't told anyone, and you're not sure what to do with the information. So, for now, you've decided to keep the details to yourself, at least until you figure out what they mean.

You set the dream journal aside, and you dress quickly, slipping into a fresh pair of robes and leaving your quarters to resume your duties at long last.

Overnight, there was a fire in the Undercity, and the Council dispatched you to investigate the issue. It's far from the first time such an event has occurred, and after a quick debriefing, you head out. The fire had originated in the abandoned warehouse district and had spread to several nearby structures, making cleanup tricky. You spend the better part of the day assisting in the recovery effort and meeting with the survivors, taking note of their injuries and asking questions where you can.

The next few days pass in a blur of activity, and, before long, you've forgotten about your conversation with Obi-Wan and your evening out together. He doesn't bring it up, and neither do you, and the two of you continue on, acting like nothing ever happened. 

It's not exactly a healthy choice, but some things are better left unsaid. It's not like either of you have had the time to talk about it, either. There's always something going on, and the War keeps everyone busy. It's easier, and safer, and the Council doesn't need any more reasons to scrutinize the two of you. Well, mostly you, but you were doing your best to make sure you were on their good side.

By the end of the week, you and the Coruscant Guard are able to catch the arsonist. A local crime boss, known for his use of black market chemicals, had set the blaze in an attempt to cover up the evidence of his operation. You bring him and his crew to justice, and after a long debriefing with a Senate committee, another subcommittee, and then the Council, you're finally dismissed.

With the issue resolved and your report completed, you find yourself with some unexpected downtime. And for the first time in a long time, you're able to enjoy a bit of a break. 

It's still early when you decide to go for a run, and you're out of the Temple and onto the streets in no time. The weather is mild, and the sun is shining, and despite the constant buzz of the traffic, it's pleasant. You've missed running, the only thing that seems to actually clear your head these days, and it's not long before you're lost in thought, the city fading into the background.

It's been weeks since the incident on Felucia. And since then, you've barely had a chance to process what happened. In fact, aside from the nightmares, the only time you've really been able to stop and think was the night you and Obi-Wan snuck off to the cantina. 

Now, as you jog through the city, the air crisp and cool, and the noise of the world dulled, the memories come rushing back. The conversation with Rex in the woods, the pain of the explosion, and the way the Force had screamed at you. You'd been trying to forget, but, somehow, the memories are clearer than ever. As though the alcohol had stripped away the fog, and now, all you're left with are the images.

The war has intensified in recent months. More troops, more missions, and the losses have only increased. Every day, there's a new report of another battle gone wrong, another platoon lost, another planet captured. 

It's getting harder and harder to keep up, and you can only hope that when you return to the frontlines, you're ready. You can’t afford to let yourself panic as you did on Felucia, and the consequences of your failure would be even worse.

The thought makes you grimace, and you force yourself to run faster, pushing the memories away. There's no use dwelling on what's already happened, and you need to focus on the present. And on what’s yet to come.

Your run takes you through the Upper Levels of the city, and as the day progresses, the crowds thicken. Soon, the streets are full of people, and you're weaving between them, ducking and dodging, apologizing under your breath. 

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you keep moving, not paying attention to your surroundings. Until, eventually, you stop in front of the clone barracks.

You look around, and when you realize where you are, a frown tugs at your lips. The building looms in front of you, and you stare up at it, more than a little stunned. You hadn't intended to come here. Or maybe you had. You're not really sure.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you watch at the entrance for a few moments before shaking your head. There's no reason for you to go inside, and there's certainly no point in bothering him. He's busy. So are you. The two of you don't need to worry about the other. And you certainly don't need to complicate things.

"General?"

You jump and turn. Rex is standing a few feet behind you, his helmet tucked under his arm. He looks exactly as he did the last time you'd seen him, only this time, his eyes are wide, and his cheeks are flushed.

"Captain," you say, smiling. You wave and nod toward the barracks, trying to keep your voice casual. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are you on leave? I thought the 501st was still stationed on Devaron."

Rex doesn't respond, his gaze drifting down momentarily before he quickly refocuses on your face. He looks a bit startled, and more than a little flustered. 

It's only then that you realize you're still wearing your workout clothes, a sleeveless shirt and shorts that reveal quite a bit of your body, your windbreaker tied around your waist. You're not really one for modesty, but Rex has never seen you like this. In fact, none of the clones have. And it's obvious that he's struggling to keep his eyes on your face. 

Your cheeks heat slightly, and you cross your arms, arching an eyebrow. 

"Rex?"

"Yes?" he mumbles. His widen before they snap back to yours, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. General. It's...you...look good—healthy. Healthy. It’s good to see you looking healthy."

"Well, thank you," you say, your amusement growing. He looks so embarrassed, and yet, he hasn't stopped staring at you, and it's making it hard not to laugh. You shift your weight and tilt your head. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, sir," he stammers. He blinks a few times and clears his throat. "I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting to run into you. Here. At the barracks."

"Right," you chuckle. You take a deep breath and shake your head. "I was just taking a run. Got a bit lost. Guess I was distracted."

"I see."

"Mhm." 

The two of you stand there for a few moments. You're not quite sure what to say. Rex is cute when he’s flustered, but the tension is awkward, and you can tell he's not comfortable. So, after a few seconds, you force a smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your morning. I'm sure you have a lot to do,” you say, giving him a friendly nod. You glance over at the barracks and then back at him. "I should get going."

"No, no, you’re not interrupting," he assures you quickly, and he shrugs, his eyes meeting yours. “I was actually on my way out."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah," he replies, and he gestures to the door. "We got in last night. Just finished debriefing. They're giving us a few days of downtime. Figured I'd take a walk, see the city."

"Ah.”

You look down and fiddle with your jacket, biting the inside of your cheek. This is exactly why you shouldn't have come. Things are too complicated, and you're making it difficult. 

You let out a quiet sigh and look up. He's still staring at you, and he seems genuinely happy to see you, his eyes bright. He's always been so kind, and attentive, and respectful. And he's never once asked anything of you. He's just...Rex. Rex, who treats you like a person, and not just a Jedi.

And, selfishly, you like that. You like having someone who doesn't see you as an asset, or a tool, or a weapon. Someone who isn't afraid to challenge you, and who makes you laugh. Who gives you his full attention and doesn't look at you like a disappointment or a disaster waiting to happen.

While it might be the height of foolishness, and you know that nothing can come of it, it doesn't mean you have to cut yourself off from him completely.

“Would you...like some company?" you ask slowly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "On your walk."

Rex blinks, his eyes widening, and a hint of red creeps up his cheeks. He looks so surprised, and a little pleased, and a warm feeling blooms in your chest.

"I'd be happy to show you around," you continue. "If you'd like. I know the city pretty well."

He opens his mouth and then closes it. He looks a bit like a fish, and, again, it's cute. Really cute. You find yourself smiling wider, and you wait patiently, the awkwardness dissipating and your confidence returning. 

When he doesn't say anything, you roll your eyes. 

"Unless you don't want to hang out with me, and then I'll leave you alone. You know, I can take a hint. I won't be offended."

Rex chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I...would love some company. But you must have better things to do."

"I'm off duty.” You shrug. "And I've been meaning to get back to the city. Besides, you could use a guide. The last thing you need is to get lost in Coruscant. Not a great look for a representative of the Republic."

"Right," he says, laughing. He takes a step toward you, and he smiles, his eyes warm. "In that case, lead the way."

You grin and turn, heading down the walkway. Rex falls in step beside you, and you set off down the street, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you. You lead him down several winding pathways, weaving through the crowds, the buildings towering over you. The sun is high overhead, and the air is warm, and the city is filled with noise, the hum of the traffic, the sounds of the people, the buzz of the air.

You point out various sites and monuments, telling him a little about each, and Rex listens intently, his eyes moving from one structure to the next. He doesn't ask any questions or press for details, and he seems content to let you ramble, his gaze focused on the city.

You continue like that for a while, chatting and strolling through the streets. The city is beautiful, and it's nice to have a bit of a break. A chance to do something, anything, normal.

As you walk, you sneak glances at him, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He looks a bit more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, but you’re starting to notice he’s making a concerted effort not to look directly at you. 

You wonder if he thinks you haven't noticed, but it's impossible to miss. Anytime he catches your gaze, Rex looks away, his cheeks turning pink. It's not a bad look on him, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't find his efforts to cling to professionalism as frustrating as they are amusing.

You decide to take pity on him and put on your windbreaker, zipping it up to cover your exposed skin. As soon as the fabric is covering your chest, his shoulders drop, and his eyes flick back to yours. He smiles, and you smirk back before turning to point out a statue. The conversation resumes, and his gaze never leaves your face.

You spend the next hour wandering the streets and taking in the sights. It's been a long time since you've gotten to enjoy a day without the weight of responsibility and duty, and even longer since you've been able to show someone around. You almost forgot how much you love this city. Or how much you used to.

At one point, Rex stops and tilts his head, looking up at the tall spires of the skyscrapers, the sun shining down on him. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful, and it makes your heart ache. He doesn't get a chance to do this. None of them do. They're constantly fighting, constantly at war, and, if it weren't for the fact that he was wearing his armor, he would look like anyone else out for a stroll.

He deserves this. To feel normal. To live a life that isn't dictated by the needs and wants of others. To know freedom, and happiness, and joy, and love. And you don't know if he ever truly will. You hope he will. But the chances are slim, and it's hard not to feel a little guilty.

"Something wrong?"

You blink, realizing you've been staring at him, and you smile. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You look around, taking in the scenery, and you try to distract yourself. "It's just...been a while since I've been able to do this. I forgot how much I loved this city."

"I can see why," he says. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," you agree. "It is."

You watch him as he takes in the cityscape. He looks so at peace, and so carefree, and the sadness that had overtaken you disappears, replaced by a different kind of ache. An ache that you're all too familiar with. One that you've felt more than once since you were brought back together.

You push it aside and clear your throat. 

"So...where to next? Got any place in particular you'd like to see?"

"No," he replies. Rex turns his attention back to you and grins. "Just thought I'd follow your lead."

"Are you sure?" you tease as you nudge him with your elbow. "You don't have a hidden desire to visit the Museum of Fine Arts? Or the Opera House? You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an all-Bith performance of the Cantina Cantata. It's a Coruscanti classic."

"Ha, ha," he says dryly. "Very funny."

"What?" you ask. You bat your lashes in a show of innocence, and he scoffs. "It's a legitimate question."

"No, thank you,” he says, rolling his eyes, and he gives you a look. "I'll pass. Unless, of course, you want to."

"Force, no," you groan, and Rex lets out a laugh that has your heart fluttering. You smirk and start walking again, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. "There is one place I'd like to go, if that's alright with you. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he admits with a sheepish smile. "We've been eating rations for two weeks straight. Haven't had real food in ages."

"Perfect."

You're getting close to the industrial district, and you take a left down an alley. It's a narrow path between two towering buildings, and the air is hazy, and there's a smell of smoke and fuel. The street is mostly deserted, and you're careful not to trip over any loose stones or stray bits of scrap. 

It's not the best area of the city, but, if there's one thing you've learned, it's that the best places are often in the worst neighborhoods. And this one was the best.

"You sure this place serves clones?" Rex asks warily as he follows you. He's looking around the alley, his hand resting on his blaster. "Seems a little rough."

"Trust me," you tell him. "This place is great."

The alley ends abruptly and you're greeted by the familiar sight of the small diner. It's an older building, and it's been there for a long time, a relic of the old days. The rounded durasteel walls glint in the afternoon sun, the neon sign blinking in the window, and the door is open, the sound of conversation spilling into the street. A few patrons are standing outside chatting, their eyes watching the two of you, but no one says a word as you enter.

"Hi honey," a cheerful voice calls. A waitress droid wheels over, her round eyes shining. "Welcome. Welcome. What can I get for you today?"

"Table for two, please," you say. “Thanks, FLO.”

"Right this way," she chirps, and she spins around, heading toward the back of the diner. 

You nudge Rex, who's looking around the room nervously, and you nod your head toward FLO's retreating form. "Come on. She won't bite."

"I've never been to a place like this," he mutters as he follows you, staying close. "It's so...normal."

"That's kind of the point," you laugh. You glance over your shoulder and give him a reassuring smile. "Everyone deserves a little normal."

"Fair enough." He takes a deep breath and gives you a half-smile. "Thanks for doing this."

"Of course," you say.

You follow FLO to a booth at the back, and you're about to slide into the seat across from him when a large shadow falls over the table. Rex tenses immediately, his hand moving to his weapon, and you whirl around, expecting the worst. But, instead, you're greeted with the wide grin of an old friend.

"Hi Dex," you say warmly. "Long time no see."

You wince as you're immediately wrapped up in a hug, four arms squeezing you tightly and lifting your feet clean off the ground.

"Hey kid!" he booms. "How the hell are ya?"

"Good," you squeak. "And yourself?"

"I can't complain," Dex says. He releases you and sets you back on the floor, his hand on your shoulder to keep you from toppling over. "Can't complain at all. How've you been? Haven't seen you in forever."

"Busy," you reply with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Always working," he sighs. He looks around, his eyes landing on Rex for a moment before focusing back on you, a frown bisecting his face. "Where's Obi-Wan? Not used to seeing one without the other."

"Offworld," you explain. "The war’s keeping him busy."

"Ah," Dex says. "And this is...?"

He nods toward Rex, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a hard line. Dex isn't an aggressive man, but he's no pushover either, and he doesn't suffer fools. You have no doubt that, should the need arise, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And you're equally certain that he won't hesitate to put a few bolts in anyone who threatens his customers.

"This is Rex, captain of the 501st Legion," you tell him. "My friend."

"Your friend," Dex echoes. He stares at Rex for a long moment, his gaze scrutinizing, before he grins and offers one of his hands. "Dexter Jettster. Welcome to Dex's Diner."

Rex hesitates before he takes the offered hand and shakes it. "Thanks. It's a nice place."

"It's a dump," Dex laughs. "But it's mine. And it's been a good place for years."

"Well, it's a great dump," Rex replies. He looks around and grins. "Very welcoming."

"Glad to hear it," Dex chuckles, and he glances down at you and gives your shoulder a squeeze. "Don't be a stranger. You’re always welcome. You tell Obi-Wan, too.”

"Thanks, I will." You smile and watch him go before turning back to Rex. "You good?"

"Yeah," he says. He lets out a deep breath and gives you a wry grin. "For a second there I thought he was going to throw me out."

"Nah," you tell him. You slide into the booth, and Rex does the same across from you. "He has a very strict 'no questions asked' policy. As long as you're a paying customer, he won't bother you. Unless, of course, you're bothering someone else. Then he'll break your legs."

Rex snorts. "Noted."

FLO comes back with two menus, and you both order your caf, the droid zipping away on a squeaky wheel.

"You two are close," Rex says, his eyes scanning his menu.

"Dex? Yeah," you agree as you do the same. "He's a good friend to have."

"I meant you and General Kenobi."

"Oh." You're taken aback by the question, and the tone in his voice. There's no judgement, no accusation, but the statement still manages to catch you off guard. You set your menu down and meet his gaze. "I suppose we are. Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. He glances at his menu and then back at you. "It's just...the two of you seem like a good team. That's all."

"We've known each other a long time," you reply, not entirely sure what he's trying to get at. "And we're good friends."

"I've noticed," Rex says quietly. His expression is guarded and unreadable. He's not being hostile, and his tone isn't rude, but the conversation feels oddly...tense. You desperately want to reach out and sift through his thoughts, but you don't, your curiosity not enough of an excuse to cross such a line. So you wait, your hands clenched under the table, your eyes searching his face for some clue as to where this is going.

Rex seems to sense your apprehension, and he sighs. He puts his menu down and leans forward, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're different around him," he says carefully. "Around everyone else, you're..."

"Distant," you offer. Your voice is soft, and a bit sad. You're not proud of the fact, and you're not sure how else to describe it. "Unfriendly. Cold. Difficult. Take your pick."

Rex is quiet for a moment. He's not judging, and he doesn't seem angry. In fact, if anything, he looks a bit hurt.

"I was going to say intimidating," he corrects, frowning. He tilts his head. "Is that really how you see yourself?"

"Isn't it how everyone sees me?" you challenge.

"I don't."

"Liar.” You scoff. You lean back in the booth and arch an eyebrow. "We barely know each other."

"I think I'm beginning to understand you pretty well," he argues. "And I don't think I've ever met someone more selfless or compassionate." 

"You should get out more."

"Seriously," Rex says. He sits up and holds your gaze. "I’m not the only one who thinks that way. Everyone else, they just...don't know you well enough."

"You don't know me at all," you tell him. "Not really."

"Maybe not," he says. "But I'd like to."

You stare at him, unable to believe what you're hearing.

"Why?"

He's silent for a few moments, his brow furrowing. His jaw is set and his eyes are focused on the table, his fingers tapping against the surface. Finally, he looks up at you, and he sighs.

“Because I think it’s important to know who you're fighting beside," he explains. "And I'd rather die knowing the person standing next to me."

"That's a pretty bleak outlook," you mumble. You can't argue with the sentiment, but the words still sting. You've never been much for talking about yourself, and even less for sharing personal information.

You pick up your menu and hide behind it, pretending to look over the lunch options. "And there’s not much to know."

"I find that hard to believe." Rex reaches out and gently pulls the menu down, his eyes meeting yours. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you. Or pry. I just—"

"I'm not offended," you say, and you shrug. "Just surprised."

"Why's that?"

"It's just rare to hear someone say they'd like to get to know me," you explain. You pause, and then, after a moment, you decide to continue, "Most people either already know who I am or don't want to know. There's no middle ground."

"That's unfortunate," Rex replies. He picks up his menu again and looks it over. "And unfair. You're not all that bad."

"Not all that bad," you repeat with a small smile. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," he says. He glances up at you, and his face is serious, but his eyes are shining with mischief. "I'm an excellent judge of character."

You chuckle, and the tension breaks as FLO returns with two mugs and a carafe of caf. You manage to persuade her to leave the pot, and Rex can't hide his delight at the first sip, his eyes closing as he takes a deep drink, a content sigh escaping him. You bite your cheek in an effort to disguise your smile as he practically moans.

"I take it the stuff in the mess hall isn't as good as this?" you tease.

"Nothing's as good as this," he murmurs. He opens his eyes and gives you a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It’s been a while since I've had a proper cup of caf."

"I can imagine," you laugh, and you nod toward the pot. "There's plenty more."

"You're my hero," he jokes. He picks up the carafe and refills his cup, taking another sip, his eyes fluttering closed again. He shakes his head and smiles at you. "Best cup I've had in a long time."

"I'm glad you approve," you say as you pour your own drink and spoon sugar into it, trying to hide your amusement. 

You're not sure why, but you like watching him enjoy things, even something as simple as a mug of caf. There's something sweet and charming about it, something almost innocent. He's seen far too much for someone his age, and yet, he still manages to hold onto his optimism and his spirit. He's not jaded or cynical. He's a good person, one of the best you've ever met, and you're finding it hard not to admire him. 

You pick up your mug and lift it in a toast. "To proper caf."

"Proper caf," he echoes. He knocks his cup against yours, and the two of you drink. He sets his mug down and leans back in his seat. "So, what do you recommend?"

"What do you like?"

"Honestly? No idea," he answers. He gestures toward the menu. "I'm a bit out of my depth here. Never had real food. Only rations, or whatever the mess serves."

"Right," you say. You take a sip of your caf and scan the page. "How about I order a few things, and we can share?”

“That would be great,” he says, sounding relieved. “Don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Oh, please," you snort. You wave a dismissive hand and give him a smile. "No worries. It'll be our secret."

You flag down FLO and order, and Rex falls silent, his gaze focused on the window, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. The droid wheels away, but he doesn’t look back over. He takes another drink and sighs, his fingers drumming the table, his brow furrowed slightly. 

You tilt your head, waiting, and he lets out a breath, his expression becoming neutral as he turns back to you. 

"If I ask a question, will you answer honestly?"

"Depends on the question."

"Fair enough."

He drums his fingers on the table again, and then he squares his shoulders and clears his throat, his eyes focused on your face. His expression is calm, but you can feel a hint of apprehension. Whatever he's about to say, he's nervous. And that makes you nervous.

"The last time we spoke, you seemed certain that the Jedi Council was going to punish you," Rex says slowly. "And you knew how they were going to handle Ahsoka. Like you were speaking from experience."

You stiffen and take a sip of caf, avoiding his gaze and hoping that he doesn't notice your sudden discomfort, but it doesn't take a genius to know that you've been caught off guard. And that you're not particularly keen on talking about the subject. 

You'd thought you'd done well to avoid the topic of your past indiscretions during your time with the Order, but apparently, you hadn't been as subtle as you'd hoped. Rex was too smart for that. You should have known better.

"That's not a question," you tell him. It's an obvious deflection, and the way his eyes narrow makes it clear that he's not buying it. But it's a deflection nonetheless, and you're not inclined to give him an honest answer. 

"Would you be willing to answer if I asked it?" Rex asks cautiously. He hesitates, and you can feel him probing, trying to gauge how receptive you are. 

You give him nothing, your face a carefully constructed mask of polite indifference. It's the expression you'd perfected as a youngling, and the one that has served you well for years. It's kept people from asking questions, and it's kept you from having to answer them. 

Rex seems to recognize it immediately, and he lets out a breath, a rueful smile on his lips. He leans back in his seat, his eyes studying your face, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"What?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"Nothing," he says. He shakes his head and shrugs. "Just starting to understand why you and General Skywalker get along so well.”

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the two of you are both stubborn," Rex chuckles, and he picks up his mug and takes a sip. "He does that same thing, the whole stone wall routine."

"Does he?"

"Yeah."

"Good for him."

Rex scoffs and shakes his head again, but he doesn't say anything, his gaze drifting back to the window. There's a slight crease between his brows, and you can tell he's debating whether or not to drop the subject.

“Look,” he starts. He turns back to you and meets your eyes, his face serious. "I can tell you're not comfortable talking about it. I just...want to know what to expect. What I can do. How I can help."

"I don't need your help," you tell him. It's a knee-jerk response, one that has always been your go-to, and you know it's not exactly true. You sigh and shake your head. "I mean...it's not that simple."

"Okay." He nods, his face patient, his eyes kind. "Can you explain?"

"It's...complicated." You hesitate, and you pick at your nails, staring at the table, your mind racing. You're not sure how to begin, or where to start, or what to say. How to put into words the shame and guilt and regret. You open your mouth, and the words are there, but they're stuck in your throat, refusing to budge.

Rex watches you for a few seconds, and then he sits forward and picks up the carafe, pouring more caf into your mug. You blink, the spell broken, and he pushes the cup toward you along with the sugar you’ve been using.

"Here.”

"Thanks," you reply, grateful for the interruption. You add the sweetener, and stir, your eyes on your mug. 

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me,” he says softly. His hand is resting on the table, his fingers tapping the surface. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressed."

"It's not that I don't want to," you tell him, the words tumbling out. “Well, okay, it is, but...not for the reasons you're thinking."

"Then what are they?"

You sigh, and you rub your eyes, the exhaustion from the night before settling in. You don't want to lie, and you're tired of secrets, and he's been nothing but understanding and supportive. If there's anyone who might understand, it's him. 

"I'm just...not a very good Jedi."

"You can't be serious," Rex says. He looks appalled, and a little indignant. He shakes his head, and his mouth presses into a thin line. "Of course you are.”

"Hardly." You scoff, and you gesture vaguely in the air, not meeting his eyes. "I have a very complicated relationship with the Council. One that involves me doing the opposite of whatever they want me to do. On multiple occasions."

Rex smirks. "Another thing you and General Skywalker have in common."

"Maybe," you admit. "But I've been on their shit list longer than he has."

"And what have you done to earn that?" he asks. His tone is light, but his words are direct, and a little pointed. He's not judging you, but he wants an answer. A real one. And you're not sure you can give him one, but you try anyway.

"I...have a lot of opinions. And I'm not very good at keeping them to myself, as you know. The Council doesn't appreciate it, and neither do some of the other Jedi."

"That's hardly a crime," he points out.

"Maybe not," you concede. There's a moment of silence, and then you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's...something else."

"Something else?"

"It's not just the opinions."

You fiddle with the spoon, trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how much you should tell him. But the truth is, you don't want to have any more secrets. You trust Rex, perhaps more than you should, and the idea of sharing this particular secret with him is oddly appealing And maybe, just maybe, it will help.

"I'm...not always in the best place, mentally," you finally confess. You keep your voice low, and your eyes on the table, afraid to look at him. You've never said the words out loud, you’ve never had to with Obi-Wan, and he’s the only one you’d ever spoken to about this. The only one still alive, anyway. "Obi-Wan's been...kind enough to overlook it. For the most part."

"For the most part?"

"He has his limits," you explain. You run a hand through your hair, your eyes still downcast. "There are certain things that are...not permitted. Or rather, certain ways that Jedi shouldn't behave. And, as far as the Council is concerned, my behavior has crossed that line on several occasions."

"What sort of behavior?" Rex asks quietly.

"You mean besides arguing with them and disobeying their orders?" you counter.

"Yeah."

You hesitate. You've come this far, and you know you've already said too much, but there's no turning back now. You take a deep breath, and you push aside your pride and your anxiety, your eyes meeting his.

“This doesn’t leave this table, alright? If I tell you, it doesn't go any further. No one can know. You understand?"

"Of course," he agrees immediately. "I won't say a word."

You take a long drink of your caf and let out a sigh, your gaze falling back to the table. It's now or never.

"When I was a youngling, I was apprenticed to a Master," you tell him, keeping your voice low, even though the diner is mostly empty. "Her name was Yaddle. She was one of the High Council members. By that point, I’d had a...history. Of trouble. Of making trouble. I was a handful."

"A handful?" Rex asks, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Oh, yes." You roll your eyes, and you can't help the smirk that crosses your face. “Starting fights, running off, talking back, getting in the way, breaking rules. Anything and everything I could think of to get attention."

"And why would a kid like that be apprenticed to one of the most important people in the entire Order?" he asks. "Didn't anyone else want you?"

"No," you admit, and you laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "Not really. Most people didn't want anything to do with me. The Masters all thought I was too much of a problem. Too difficult."

"Why'd she take you?"

"I don't know," you confess. “At first, I thought it was a punishment, but...after a while, I realized it wasn’t. She genuinely wanted me. And she was the first person who did. I mean, really wanted me."

Rex nods, his face solemn. "What happened?"

"She died," you answer bluntly. You stare at the table and shrug, your eyes burning, and you bite the inside of your cheek. "After the Naboo incident, I’d gone to attend the funeral of Obi-Wan’s Master. She was supposed to come with me, but she said she needed to stay on Coruscant. She said she'd catch up later. But later that night, I felt it. The moment she was gone. I just...felt it. It’s hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. The severing of the bond."

"That must have been rough," Rex murmurs.

"It was," you agree. You swallow hard and look up at him, and the concern and sympathy in his eyes almost breaks you. "And the worst part was, no one believed me. They told me it was my imagination, or a trick of the mind, or a hallucination. But I knew what I felt. She was gone.”

"That's terrible," he says, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I can’t say it was entirely unwarranted." You let out a bitter laugh and take a drink of your caf. “After she was gone, I was...angry. Really angry. And the Masters and the Council were so busy trying to keep the Order together, no one paid any attention to me. Which meant no one noticed when I started investigating. On my own."

"Investigating what?"

"Her death." you say. You finish your caf and set the cup down, turning it between your fingers, and you let out a long breath. You glance around and lower your voice even more, and Rex leans forward, his brow furrowed. "It was murder. I know it was. I managed to find a few clues, but nothing concrete, and I…”

You trail off and stop, suddenly unable to continue. Your mouth goes dry, and you feel sick. You know what you did. You know what you've done, but saying it out loud makes it real. It means you're acknowledging the worst thing you've ever done, and, while you've done some terrible things, this was different. This was personal. And it hurt. More than anything.

"You did something." Rex's voice is soft, and gentle, and there's no judgement, only understanding. You don't deserve it. You know you don't. But it's hard to ignore the warmth that fills your chest. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. "What was it?"

“It wasn’t intentional. It wasn't like I'd planned to do it. It just...happened," you explain. Your hands shake slightly, and you curl them into fists to steady them. "Obi-Wan and I had an argument, and I stormed out. I went off alone to the Undercity, and I was angry, and hurt, and...and I wasn't paying attention."

"You weren't paying attention?" Rex repeats, his brow furrowed. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth is a tight line. "What do you mean? You weren't paying attention to what?"

"I let my guard down," you tell him. You hesitate, and then continue. "I should've known someone would be after me. After what happened. But I was too busy trying to figure out what to do next that I didn't even think..." 

You trail off and close your eyes. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over. You open your eyes and force yourself to meet his. "I was tricked into entering a trap. By the time I realized it was a set-up, it was too late.

"I found some of Yaddle’s things planted there, and then I was attacked. They used the Force to restrain me," you say evenly. "They put me in a chokehold somehow. I couldn't move or speak or fight back. They told me that I should've stayed away. And then, they..."

Your throat closes and your chest tightens as the memory flashes across your mind, as fresh as the day it happened. You can feel the cold, damp air of the Undercity, the pressure around your neck, the sound of their voice in your ear, the taste of blood in your mouth. 

The rage and fear and shame are just as strong as they were back then, and you have to clench your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, the urge to scream and break something almost overwhelming. You take a few seconds to calm yourself, and when you speak again, your voice is hoarse.

"They tried to kill me," you say. "And something inside me…clicked. A power I didn’t know I had. I lost control. I nearly collapsed a building on us both. The attacker escaped." 

You pause and take another deep breath. "I don't remember much after that. I was barely conscious. All I could think about was getting out. I don't know how I made it back to the Temple. I only found out later that some civilians were caught in the collapse."

Rex doesn't respond. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set, and his eyes are focused on you. You’re taken aback by his reaction, the force of it a surprise. You had expected sympathy or concern. Pity, maybe. But not anger.

"What?" you ask.

"How long ago was this?" 

“I was twenty, so...about ten years ago."

"Ten years," Rex repeats, his expression darkening. "You've been carrying this around for ten years?"

You sit back and fold your arms across your chest, watching him. You can’t help but feel defensive, and more than a little irritated.

"You seem upset."

"You almost died," he snaps. He lets out a huff and shakes his head. "Someone set a trap for you, and you almost died."

"That's generally what happens when you're careless." You try to keep your tone light, but the look he gives you is fierce. His eyes are hard and cold, his jaw tight, and his shoulders are tense. He's furious. You frown. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"What?" Rex asks. He blinks, and his face softens slightly. "No. No, I'm not angry with you. I'm just...concerned."

"You don't need to be."

"I think I do," he counters, and he leans forward, his eyes searching your face. “Who was it? The person who attacked you?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "I never saw their face. But I have a few theories that I’m still trying to confirm."

"Any suspects?"

"One."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Maybe."

Rex's frown deepens, and he leans back, his expression wary. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, which makes you smile. "I'm not trying to be coy. There's just a lot of information that isn't relevant to the current situation. Or your job."

"I disagree."

"You would," you scoff. You sit back and cross your arms over your chest. "Look, this is...really hard for me, okay? And I'm not exactly eager to relive the whole thing. Especially with someone who could easily report me."

"I wouldn't," he says, quick and earnest, and his brow furrows. “I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. But, if there's someone out there who wants you dead, we should be aware."

"There are a lot of people who want me dead," you reply with a huff of laughter. “That comes with being a Jedi. We tend to piss people off."

"This was personal," Rex argues. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his hands folded on the table. "You said the attacker told you that you should've stayed away. They knew you."

"I did."

"Which means they're likely connected to your investigation into Master Yaddle's death," he points out. “Potentially even the murderer themself.”

"Maybe."

"So who do you think it was?"

You give him a long, hard look, and he meets your gaze. His eyes are unflinching, and his jaw is set. He's not going to back down. And, even though you know you shouldn't, you can't help but admire him for it. He's stubborn and tenacious, and it's hard to refuse him. Harder than you'd like to admit.

You sit forward, folding your hands in front of you, and your voice drops to a low whisper. “Dooku.”

"Count Dooku?" Rex repeats. He blinks, and his eyes widen. He glances around, leaning forward and keeping his voice low. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Dooku," he whispers. His mouth sets in a grim line, and he shakes his head. "That's...that's a pretty serious accusation."

"I know." You sigh and lean back, running a hand through your hair. "Look, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and it makes sense. Dooku has the resources and the ability. Plus, he has a personal connection to Yaddle, and he was missing from the funeral the night she died, despite Qui-Gon being his Padawan. The only thing I’m still shaky on is the motive.”

"That's a solid theory,” he admits, his tone resigned, as he rubs the scar on his chin with his thumb. “On Geonosis, you wanted to go after him. I stopped you.”

“Yeah, well, it turned out to be a good call." You snort and shake your head. “If I had, I'd be dead. He probably would've killed me before I even got close."

"Still," he insists. He takes a deep breath, and he studies your face. "So what happened next?"

"Next? I tried to forget it ever happened. And, for a while, I succeeded," you answer. You can't keep the bitterness out of your voice. "I didn't tell anyone. Not the Council, not Obi-Wan. Nobody."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't have proof. I had a necklace and a few vague memories."

You shrug, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You let out a frustrated sigh, and you drop your gaze to the table.

"It was easier, alright? I was afraid. If I told them the truth of what happened, and the power I used, they'd send me away," you confess. You pick at your nails, and your voice is quiet. "The Council was already looking for a reason to get rid of me. If they found out what I'd done, that I'd nearly killed civilians, even if it was an accident...I’d have been expelled or sent to rot in the Citadel."

"They'd do that?"

"Without hesitation," you tell him. "They're not exactly big on second chances when it comes to the Dark Side. And they were already convinced I was going to fall."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" You glance up at him and smirk. "They were right, in the end."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"No, it isn't."

"Rex—"

"No," he says firmly. He reaches out and gently tugs your hands away from where they're picking at your nails, and he squeezes once before dropping them. "Whatever happened, whatever you did, it doesn't define you. You're a good person."

You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head. "I’d hold your applause until the end."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," you snap. You sit forward, your hands curling into fists. "You're acting like I didn't do anything wrong, or that I'm somehow an innocent party in all this. I’m not. What I did was terrible. And the consequences were severe."

"I understand, but—"

"You don't," you say flatly. "You can't."

He opens his mouth, and you hold up a hand, stopping him. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, forcing yourself to calm down.

"Sorry," you murmur. You rub a hand over your face and shake your head. "This is a lot harder than I thought."

"You don't have to explain anything," Rex says quietly. His voice is warm and soothing, and when you look up, his eyes are kind. He offers a small smile, and you try your best to return it.

"I know. But I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"No," you sigh. "But I'm doing it anyway."

Rex nods, and you let out a breath. You can feel the anger and shame and guilt still simmering below the surface, but it's tempered by his reassurance. 

"So," you continue. "Where were we?"

"After the attack," he answers, his eyes on your face.

"Right. Well, things were...awkward, to say the least," you admit as look out the window. "For a while, no one would talk to me. They avoided me, or looked the other way, or pretended not to see me. Which was fine, I guess. I wasn't exactly keen on talking to anyone either."

"What about General Kenobi?"

"Obi-Wan? No. Not really." You hesitate, and then you shake your head. “Actually, no. Not at all. He didn't say a word to me."

"That doesn't sound like him," Rex remarks.

"No, it doesn't," you agree. You can't hide your bitterness, and Rex seems to notice.

"Did he say why?"

"Not at first. We didn't really speak to each other for the next decade, actually," you say, your tone dry. "We kept our distance. He was busy training Anakin, and I was busy..."

"Busy what?"

"Busy trying not to lose my mind," you answer, your voice hollow. You swallow hard, and force yourself to look him in the eye. "The isolation was hard. No one wanted anything to do with me, and I was...paranoid. I thought everyone was watching me. Waiting for me to slip up. So I kept my head down. I did my duty. I served, I waited.”

"Waited for what?"

"An opportunity." You let out a slow breath, and you can't stop the bitterness from seeping into your words. "Turns out, that opportunity was the Clone Wars. You know what happened on Geonosis, but later, before we were…reunited, I was sent on a mission. I encountered the man who lured me into the trap, and, when I realized it was him, I...lost control. Again."

"You lost control." Rex frowns, his eyes narrowing. He leans forward, his hands on the table, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened?"

“I left my charge to track him down. He didn’t have much to offer, just that he was paid anonymously to lure me into the Undercity." You rub your temples, the memory flashing through your mind. "While I was interrogating him, the Senator that I was protecting was attacked. 

“I hurt people that day saving her, and when I returned to Coruscant, the Council decided that enough was enough. They suspended me from duty and placed me under constant supervision. I was a liability, and an embarrassment. They told me that, if I continued to act like a child, I would be treated like one."

"That's harsh."

"It was fair," you say, and he scoffs. "They didn't trust me. I didn't trust myself. I was angry and reckless and out of control, and I hurt the people I was supposed to protect. The only way I could protect anyone was by staying out of the field and away from the war. I'd failed. I'd let my emotions get the best of me, and it had almost cost me everything."

"That doesn't make it right," he argues. "What you did, losing control, it was an accident. They shouldn't have treated you like a criminal."

"I was a danger," you remind him. “And the Order can’t afford to have unstable Jedi. It's our job to maintain order and peace. We can't do that if we can't control ourselves."

"You weren't dangerous. You weren't unstable," he argues. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "You were scared. I may not be a Jedi, but I know what fear does. It's a survival instinct. And, sometimes, the body does things to protect itself that the mind doesn't understand. You weren't in control of yourself. It was an accident."

"It doesn't matter," you reply. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. “We’re supposed to be able to control ourselves. Our feelings, our actions, our thoughts. We're trained to use the Force, it's not supposed to be the other way around. What I did...what happened...it was wrong. And it can’t happen again. Not ever."

Rex falls silent, his brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on your face. After a moment, he nods, and he sits back in his chair, letting out a long breath. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" you repeat incredulously. "That's all you're going to say?"

"Yes," he answers. His mouth twitches, and his eyes meet yours. "What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," you confess, and you can feel a small grin forming. "Kinda expected you to lecture me, honestly. Maybe argue with me a little bit more."

"Do you want me to?" Rex asks, the corner of his mouth turning up in a wry grin when you roll your eyes. "Because I can. You seem to enjoy arguing with me."

"It is fun," you admit, and his lips curve into a full-blown smile, his eyes sparkling. "And you are good at it."

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late." He chuckles, and it's such a genuine sound that you can't help but join him. The tight knot in your chest loosens slightly, and you let out a breath, a wave of relief washing over you.

You feel lighter, as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. There's a quiet calm in the air, and you allow yourself a moment to relax. You can't help the small flutter in your chest when Rex’s eyes meet yours, his smile bright.

He looks younger when he smiles, the stress and tension gone from his face. You like seeing him this way. Happy and relaxed. It suits him.

"Thank you. For trusting me,” Rex says, voice soft and sincere.

"Well, thank you for listening." You take a drink of caf and smile at him over the rim of your cup. "And thank you for not judging me."

He shakes his head. "You don't need my judgement. You're doing enough of that yourself."

"I am not," you protest. He raises an eyebrow, and you scoff. "Okay, maybe I am. But only because it's true."

"Maybe," he says. "But, if you don't mind me saying, it's also unnecessary."

"I do mind,” you mutter. "I was reckless and arrogant and stupid, and a lot of people got hurt because of it. Including me."

"You made a mistake." He shrugs, and his smile fades, his expression becoming serious. "Everyone does. That doesn't make you a bad person. Or a bad Jedi."

"Then what does that make me?"

"Human."

You snort, and you take a long sip of caf, trying not to roll your eyes. Rex chuckles and ducks his head. "All right, that was cheesy, I'll admit. But it's true. That's what makes us different from droids. We're flawed. We make mistakes. It's how we learn."

"Some of us more than others."

"True."

"You're being too nice to me," you tell him, only half-joking. You finish your caf and set the mug on the table, folding your hands in your lap. "You're making me uncomfortable."

"I'm not," he argues. He tilts his head, studying you. "I'm being honest."

"Same difference."

Rex huffs, exasperated, and his eyes roll up. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"

"It doesn't," you say. You smile, and it's a real one. "Just most things."

He starts to reply, but FLO returns before he can, rolling to a stop beside the table with a tray floating beside her. It's overflowing with food, and the smell is incredible. Your mouth waters. You're hungrier than you realized.

"Here you go," she chirps. She lowers the tray onto the table, and she starts unloading the plates. Rex's eyes are as wide as yours, and the both of you sit in stunned silence, watching as the diner droid arranges the food with a flurry of mechanical arms. "This is the breakfast platter, the lunch platter, and the dinner platter. Enjoy."

"FLO, wait," you call, but the droid is already rolling away. "There's way too much food here."

"Not a problem," she says cheerfully. She stops and turns around, her mechanical arms whirring. "Anything for you, honey. You just let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," you say, smiling. She lets out a pleased beep and rolls away, leaving you alone with Rex and more food than either of you could possibly eat. "Wow."

"Wow," Rex echoes. He's staring at the table, his eyes wide, and you're pretty sure you've rendered him speechless. He shakes his head, his mouth hanging open, and he meets your eyes. "Is it always like this here?"

"I mean, yeah, but this is a lot, even for her," you say. You glance at the tray and let out a low whistle. "She must really like you."

"Lucky me," he mutters, and you snort. He frowns at the pile of food, his brow furrowed, and he glances at you. "So, how are we doing this?"

"You need a strategy for everything, Captain?” 

"No."

"Then stop stalling," you tease, and he fixes you with a flat look. "Just try what looks good. If we can't eat it, she'll pack it up. Don't worry."

"Right," he says. He hesitates, and you roll your eyes and snatch a slice of toast from the plate. "How are we splitting this?"

"I don't know. You pick first, and I'll grab whatever's left." You take a bite of the toast, and Rex gives you a long look. You shrug, your mouth full. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then quit looking at me and eat."

He sighs, but he reaches for a bowl, and for a few minutes, the two of you eat in companionable silence. You keep an eye on Rex, watching him from the corner of your eye as he tries everything FLO has given him. His expression is thoughtful, and he takes his time, trying to decide what he likes best. He's savoring every bite, and every time he takes a sip of caf, his face relaxes, his shoulders sagging. 

It's kind of endearing, in a weird sort of way. And, as you watch him, a small, traitorous part of your mind wonders if it'd be so bad to have this every day. This quiet. This calm. You quickly banish the thought, and you shove another piece of bread in your mouth.

You can't think like that. You can't allow yourself to become attached.

You don't realize you've been staring until Rex looks up, catching your eye. His cheeks flush and he puts down his fork.

"Sorry," he says, a little sheepishly. He gestures vaguely at the food. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry," you cut in. You shake your head, and the words come out without your permission. "It's cute."

Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a short, sharp laugh, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile. "Cute?"

"Yes," you say, and you try to sound confident, but you can't quite keep the edge of embarrassment out of your voice. You duck your head and take a bite of fruit, keeping your gaze focused on the table. "Relax. You're fine."

"If you say so."

"I do."

You can feel him watching you, and you resist the urge to hide behind your hands. Instead, you take another bite, and you're careful not to look at him, afraid you'll make things even more awkward than they already are. You can still feel his eyes on you, and the heat rises in your cheeks, your ears burning.

"So," you start, the silence suddenly unbearable. "Any big plans while you're on shore leave? Aside from eating.

"Not really," he admits. He takes a long drink, and he leans back in his seat. "I was just going to rest, honestly. Catch up on reports. Maybe spend some time in the sims."

"You can't just spend a day relaxing?" you ask. He shrugs, and you can't help but smile. "What do you do for fun?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah." You gesture vaguely in the air, and you tilt your head, watching him. "Like, something that doesn't involve work."

"Oh." Rex frowns and stares at the table. His expression is thoughtful, and you get the sense that no one's ever asked him that question before. He meets your eyes and shrugs. "I don't know. I read, sometimes. Watch the holonet. Train. Nothing exciting."

"You like to read?"

"I like to learn," he says. He gives you a half-grin, and he picks up his fork, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "You can learn a lot from military history. And there's not much else to do on a starship other than train or sleep. Reading's a good way to pass the time."

"Fair point."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," he says. "What do you do when you're not on duty?"

"Honestly? The same thing as you," you confess. He snorts, and you shrug. "I'm not exactly a social butterfly, if you haven't noticed. Most of my free time is spent in the library, or the Temple gardens."

"I have noticed."

"Well, there you go."

Rex smiles, and he shifts in the booth, stretching out his legs. His knees brush yours under the table, and you ignore the rush of warmth that courses through your veins. It's strange. He's wearing armor, and the touch should be cold, hard, uncomfortable. Instead, it's the opposite. His armor is warm and solid and sturdy. Comforting, even. 

You shift your legs away from his. You need to stop.

"Tell me," you start, and Rex glances up. He's still smiling, and he's watching you intently. You gesture at the empty plate in front of him. "Was that better or worse than the rations?"

"Better," he answers immediately. He grins, and his eyes meet yours, soft and bright. "Definitely better."

"Good." You smile back, and you can't help but be proud. Your foot nudges his under the table. "I'm glad."

"Thanks for this," he says, nodding towards the tray of food. His gaze meets yours, and his voice is warm and sincere. "For bringing me here. It's...it's nice."

"Of course," you say. You duck your head and try to ignore the sudden rush of warmth in your chest. You swallow hard and focus on the table, pushing down the feeling. "We can come back again, if you want. There's plenty more I can show you. If you're interested."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he says. His smile is gentle, and he tilts his head. "I'd like that."

"Me, too," you say. You smile back at him, and his lips twitch. His foot nudges yours, and, this time, you don't move away.

The rest of the meal passes quickly. You finish eating, and the two of you sit for a while longer, chatting about everything and nothing until the sun begins to dip lower behind the buildings towering over you.

Eventually, though, it's time to leave. You pay for the food, ignoring Rex's protest with a quip about the Republic’s illimitable pocketbook, and you head outside into the late afternoon sun. The street is busy, filled with the bustle and noise of people going about their lives, and the two of you stand on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do next.

"So," Rex starts, and he rocks back on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks awkward, almost nervous. "I guess I should go."

"Yeah," you say, and, despite the fact that you've been telling yourself all day that this is a bad idea, your heart sinks. You gesture vaguely toward the Temple looming in the distance. "Me too. I've got some things I should probably deal with."

"Right."

The silence stretches between the two of you, and neither one of you moves. After a few seconds, Rex clears his throat, and he meets your eyes.

"Thank you again. For bringing me here," he says, his voice soft. "And for the food."

"Don't mention it," you reply with a small smile.

You look down at the ground and kick at a stray stone, trying to bury the sudden pang of sadness. You'd had fun. More fun than you'd had in a long time, but you're not naive enough to believe that this is something that can happen again. Your schedules are far too erratic, and you're not sure you can trust yourself around him. The brief physical contact is already beginning to wear on your resolve. 

"I'll see you later then," you tell him, forcing a casual tone.

"Later," he agrees. 

He takes a step forward and hesitates. For half a second, you think he might hug you, which is a ridiculous thought. He wouldn't. And you certainly wouldn't let him. But there's something in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes flick down to your lips, the way his hands flex at his sides. 

For a moment, everything feels frozen. Neither of you move, and neither of you speak. The noise of the crowd seems distant, and the world falls away. It's just the two of you, standing there, waiting. Waiting for something, anything.

And then Rex nods stiffly, his hands resting on his hips, and he takes a step back. "Take care, sir."

"You too, Captain."

You turn and walk away.

When you finally make it back to your room in the Temple, you flop down onto your bed, your head buried in the pillow. You let out a long sigh and close your eyes, the sound of Rex's voice still ringing in your ears. 

He'd been kind and charming and sweet, and he'd listened to you and laughed with you and made you smile. And, for a brief moment, you'd forgotten all about the war, the Order, and everything else. You'd just existed.

It was stupid. You were stupid.

But you'd had fun.

It'd been nice.

Really, really nice.

"Shit," you mumble into your pillow. You roll over and stare up at the ceiling, and you groan.

This is going to be harder than you thought it would be.

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[slytherinshua]

SECRET'S OUT

genre. fluff. secret relationship. warnings. kinda scandalous kissing spots (not really suggestive tho). jokes about jeokbong liking y/n. pairing. so mun x fem!counter!reader. wc. 1.5k. a/n. from this request!

“I still don’t like that we have to go this far.” So Mun complained, his pout barely visible in the dark, “It’s cramped.”

“I never said we had to go to a closet. I just said somewhere private.” You defended. The closet had somehow been the first thing your boyfriend had thought of as a private place, and the space for 2 adult sized bodies was definitely limited.

“There’s nowhere private in the new base and you know that. The bedroom doors have windows since it was originally a warehouse.”

“I know. I wasn’t the one who couldn’t go a day without kissing their girlfriend.” You jabbed at him.

“I’m not the one who insisted on keeping this a secret!” He countered, crossing his arms in faux annoyance.

“Do you want to be teased by everyone? Cause I know I don’t… Especially Hana, god.” The muttered remark made Mun cringe as well.

“You’re right, this is better.” So Mun’s hands circled around your waist, pulling you closer in the already close space. “Even if I have to resort to kissing you in a closet.” 

You giggled, hands resting on his shoulders, tiptoeing in order to reach his lips, “How scandalous of you.” You mumbled, smiling against his lips but not putting any pressure into kissing him. So Mun seemed to get inpatient for you to initiate a proper kiss and kissed you first.

In the relationship, you were definitely the responsible one. It wasn’t like you wanted to be, but someone had to do it otherwise there was no way you two wouldn’t get found out by the rest of the team. So Mun did his part in trying not to be too obvious with his lovesick stares or want to be close to you, except recently he was failing.

He kept whispering in your ear at dinner that Jeokbong definitely liked you and was always staring at you. You had rolled your eyes at the thought. Even if he was, you were undoubtedly in love with So Mun and So Mun only. His fleeting jealousy was nothing you were concerned about. 

Mun didn’t like you brushing it off, though, and kept pulling your chair just a little bit closer to his with his foot under the table. It took multiple tries from you to make him stop, especially when Hana had almost picked up on it.

It had been a close call, but you hadn’t been caught yet. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.” So Mun smiled and you ruffled some of the curls on his head as he settled under the covers of his bed.

“I’ll go now, okay?” You crouched down, now being eye level with him. He sighed but nodded nonetheless. You kissed his forehead to sooth him before walking out of his room. You let your shoulders relax— another stressful day was coming to a close, another day where your relationship with Mun stayed a precious secret.

“What are you doing in So Mun’s room at 1 am?”

Hana’s voice made you jump slightly. You spun around, finding her leaning against the kitchen counter, munching on a candy bar and staring you down.

“What?”

“You,” She pointed, “In his room. It’s late.” She swallowed her chocolate bar, narrowing her eyes a bit at you.

“He was just- I was just, uh-” You cleared your throat awkwardly. This was bad. “He was just showing me one of his old comics he made when he was little.”

“At 1 am?” Hana raised her eyebrow, obviously not buying it.

“Yeah…” You walked to the kitchen, flashing the most innocent smile you could muster and opening the fridge to pour yourself a glass of iced tea.

“Well, goodnight, then.” She nodded, hand resting on your shoulder to give you a couple pats. Her eyes widened, “You kissed him in the closet!?” 

You spat out your iced tea in utter shock. Fuck. Hana could read your memories. And you had completely forgotten about that. 

“No!” You yelled defensively, “I didn’t- we- we weren’t-” 

“Y/n, are you and So Mun-” 

“Are we what?” So Mun had walked out of his room, hearing the commotion.

You straightened, eyes wide, trying to relay some sort of message to Mun that Hana was probably about to figure it all out. He didn’t get it, though, and walked towards you both. Hana only needed a second of her hand on Mun’s shoulder to get his memory of it.

She glanced at you and then back to Mun, eyes wide as they darted between you both. You were frozen, panic-stricken in your spot. So Mun was oblivious as always, trying to figure out why you and Hana were acting so weird.

“We need a team meeting to discuss this.” Hana proclaimed.

“What?”

“What?”

You and Mun asked in unison, turning to the other at the same time as if you were synchronised robots. Hana huffed at the fact that you two were still feigning innocence. She quickly knocked on the other counters’ doors, stirring the drowsy adults.

After a couple minutes, they were all gathered around the kitchen table. Jeokbong was rubbing the sleep from his eye, while Motak kept asking what was going on, and Ms. Chu was ready to get the car to catch an evil spirit at any minute.

“Two of our counters have been hiding something from us, with no regard to how we feel about it or how it might hurt our feelings.” Hana started, a pointed gaze on you and Mun who sat next to each other, nervously sweating at the situation. By the time Hana had gone to get the other counters, you had filled So Mun in on everything and he was now as panicked as you, if not more. 

“What? What is it?” Jeokbong asked anxiously. 

“Mun and Y/n… are dating.”

The room practically exploded with shouts and questions. If any of the counters were tired before, they were definitely awake now. The commotion was frankly impressive. 

You had expected teasing, yes. But you had never expected it to be such a big deal. The two aces of the team suddenly being revealed to be seeing each other was quite a shock, though. Especially since no one had even suspected it until now.

“You’re dating Mun?” Motak asked for clarification, and you nodded quietly. “All this time, Jeokbong didn’t even have a chance?”

“W-What? No! No! I-I never liked Y-Y/n, don’t misunderstand!!” Jeokbong started defending immediately, but you barely paid attention.

Mun turned to you, whispering an “I told you” with a small frown. You wanted to kiss the pout right off his face, and you would’ve if you weren’t still surrounded by the rest of the team that were still throwing around question after question— none of which was being answered.

“How long has this been going on?” Ms. Chu asked.

“I never thought Mun could pull a girl like Y/n.” Hana teased. 

“Hey-” Mun defended.

“Guys, stop. Yes, I’m dating Mun, we’ve been dating for months." You weren’t sure why, but you ended up laughing. Even with the chaos that had ensued as soon as the secret got out, it was relieving that you didn’t have to hide it anymore.

You didn’t have to hide the fact that you were in love with So Mun.

You could hug him whenever you wanted. You could kiss him whenever you felt like it. You could go on dates without having to pretend to be going on errands or missions. You could be like a normal couple. You felt exhilarated by the thought.

So Mun nodded at your statement and wrapped his arm around your shoulder to pull you towards him, “Y/n’s my girl… got that Jeokbong?” 

Jeokbong looked utterly afraid for his life which made you crack up. Of course you knew that Mun was only being jokingly possessive of you, but the look on Jeokbong’s face was priceless, and soon the whole table was laughing.

“Now that we have that all cleared up, I think it’s best that we all get back to bed. It’s late for the kids and the grown-ups.” Ms. Chu told everyone.

“We’re not kids,” you complained.

“Sure you aren’t. You babies.” Ms. Chu smiled, patting your shoulder.

“If you two ever break up it’s gonna be awful for the team. So don’t you dare break up.” Hana warned you both.

“Don’t worry. We don’t plan to.” So Mun said confidently, making your cheeks flush.

“C-congratulations on your relationship.” Jeokbong stuttered quietly as he made his way back to his room.

“Thanks Jeokbong!” You replied cheerily.

“Yeah, thanks.” Mun smiled, kissing your forehead to intentionally emphasize it to him. 

“You know that wasn’t necessary.” You scolded him.

“How else is he supposed to get the message?” So Mun frowned.

“We already told-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Mun’s lips were on yours, kissing you in the now empty room. You raised an eyebrow at him when you pulled away, “You just want an extra excuse to kiss me, don’t you?”

“...Maybe.”

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