#it used to make me furious when people would say ‘sometimes love isn’t enough’ because HOW?????? how can LOVE (the most important thing)

[wewontbesleeping]

when you’re in love, really in love, you always feel like you finally did it, like you cracked the code and Beat The Odds and you found It. Soulmates are real and everything is perfect now. When I fell in love for the first time, I thought “how could anyone ever get divorced? just wait until you get THIS feeling, and then you know it will last forever!” and now I look back into that relationship and think I don’t even recognize either person who was in it. Things break and burn and end and it’s interesting to me to see people say about Taylor and Joe “but she really thought it was forever, something terrible must have happened” and all I can say is that we always do think it’s forever, and frankly people who are in love are not the best judges of reality. I don’t know anything about their relationship and it’s honestly not really my business, but I’m just reflecting on it right now as I think about my own long term relationship and the potential direction it will go.

[reddevilproductions]

ANIMANIACS(2020) SEASON 3 EPISODE 8

SPOILERS AHEAD

Alright I’ve seen a LOT of controversy about the beginning of this episode. And I’d like to address it with my own thoughts. I don’t doubt I will get backlash for this, it’s the internet, you get backlash for everything. But I still have a right to an opinion and I’m making the choice to share it so I’m accepting the consequences that come with that decision.

If you haven’t seen this episode yet, I’ll give the gist of what happens.

Specifically the “problem” is the little bit where Yakko and Dot are ragging on their brother. Wakko is so hyperfocused on his game that he is completely oblivious to the world around him.

They make comments on how “the animators could only afford to animate the two BEST siblings”. They dramatically go in about it how they “mourn the loss” of their brother, then immediately move on. They start to plan their own duo plot before Wakko is shaken back into reality. To which they respond with monotone and sarcastic phrases like “oh great Wakko’s back”. As if they weren’t pleased to see him.

I’ve seen people absolutely furious over this. Comparing it to a 90s episode where Wakko was about to be taken by Death and his siblings risked their own lives to fight for him back. Begging on their knees to not have their brother taken away.

Which is a both a wholesome and comical episode to enjoy but I will argue that these two situations are NOT the same. That was the actual DEATH practically knocking on their door. You can’t blame them for getting bent out of shape.

This was Wakko just laser focused on a video game he was enjoying. He’s been shown in the reboot to be more drawn to the different types of technologies and is often seen playing around on them. This type of situation most likely isn’t new to Yakko and Dot.

And I guess I will have to be the one to say it, THIS is the reality of siblings. They aren’t going to be wholesome 100% of the time. This is one of the reasons I really enjoy the reboot, it seems to show that side of having brothers and sisters more so than the 90s show.

Personally, I have 4 siblings. I also take the role as the oldest. And seeing this sketch genuinely made me laugh so hard because it sounded exactly like a situation me and my own siblings would be in. It made them laugh too for the same reason. My little sister went “that’s us!” while giggling about it.

Siblings aren’t always going to be kind to eachother. They will taunt and tease and make claims or argue about who the favorites really are. They’re going to find quirks about eachother odd. There will be some times they’ll act unenthusiastic about you being there. That does NOT mean you don’t care about eachother. Behind everything, the love is still there and it always will be.

I’ll make up dramatics and taunts in regards to my siblings, they’ll shoot them right back at me. There have been times where a few will gang up on another one in their antics. Sometimes you are left out of activities.

But the love never ever goes away. I would do anything for my siblings, I will never stop loving and caring about them. There will be wholesome moments of us playing games, giving hugs and affectionate noogies, or watching cartoons, like Animaniacs, together. But the teasing is always gonna be apart of the dynamic. It’s not bad, it’s normal and we know not to go to far. We apologize when someone is genuinely and seriously hurt.

In my eyes, in my siblings eyes too, Yakko and Dot did nothing wrong. This is almost top tier brother and sister behavior. I know from experiencing it myself.

This segment or reboot as a whole does not take away any other aspect of their previous relationship whatsoever. They are still shown to be extremely kind, protective and loving towards eachother. That part never changed, you just need to accept the good parts with the bad ones. And they’re not necessarily bad parts either.

I cannot stress this enough

It’s

Just

Siblings

And I love how that is portrayed in this series. It really hit close to home and despite all the controversy, I’d say the writers did an excellent job.

[variantia]

BELLUM.   anyway one of the first things I like to do with new characters is ramble enough to make y’all sad so I will say this

my man Venti has MAD identity issues

he started out as this tiny wind spirit, just one among a lot of others, and thinking there was pretty much nothing unique about him, just existing as a gust of wind, thinking he was just one more cog in the great machine of the sky

but ... then he met his best friend, a so-called nameless bard (who’s technically nameless in canon, but me going off a YouTube comment on an ASMR I watched and love, I do have a headcanon name for him) while living under the tyrant who ruled the land which would become Mondstadt ; the previous Anemo Archon / god of wind, who was really more a god of storms who used that to lock his people away, believing the world outside to be too dangerous

anyway, the spirit that would become Venti learned freedom and all that it meant through this young bard, and they became best friends, and eventually Venti decided to help the bard fight and rebel against the tyrant Archon, and they did it !   they defeated him, and in the process, Venti became Barbatos, ascending to godhood

but also in the process ... his bard friend sustained fatal wounds and passed away.   Barbatos carved out the new nation, birthing it as Mondstadt, and then supposedly left it to be.   in reality, he chose not to rule it simply because he wanted his people to know true freedom, not for him to demand it of them.   “freedom when demanded of you by a god... that’s not really freedom, is it?”

so he vanished, but when he did, he decided to create for himself a physical form so that he could still wander and enjoy his country.   his current form as Venti might look young, but he very clearly has the body of an adult, not a child.   his features are youthful because he based them on his friend, the bard, who was ... probably an adult, but still quite young, most likely only 18 or 19.

it was Venti’s way of honoring his friend’s memory.   the young bard wanted to live freely, to see the sky, and he died before he could experience everything he wanted to ... so Venti chose to let his friend’s appearance inform his own, hoping that in some small way, the bard might live on in him and get to experience all these things that Venti does.

the sad truth is, though, that Venti sees himself when he looks at his reflection.   he looks at his face and thinks “this is me” instead of “this is my friend”.   and while that’s healthy in some ways, he’s also afraid that what he did has turned selfish.   he almost thinks he stole everything that the nameless bard was ; his face, his voice, his dreams.

it’s unfortunate.   he thinks that in his attempt to honor his friend’s memory, he’s instead corrupted it.   he sometimes doesn’t know which parts of himself are really his and which are his friend’s, and he is FURIOUS with himself for letting that happen.

the past is one of the biggest reasons he drinks to excess, trying to drown out the pain of over 3000 years of life, and this ... this is one of the biggest things that causes him pain.   Venti is fully convinced that his friend would be angry with him for ‘stealing’ everything that once was his.

he doesn’t understand that he’s not just a ‘fake’, that he is very much his own person, and that his friend is looking down on him happy that Venti is getting to live such a beautiful life filled with music and freedom.

honestly it’s just so sad to see that Venti truly believes he’s done something horribly, horribly wrong in trying to keep his friend’s memory alive.   maybe it isn’t a perfect solution, but nothing ever would be, and it doesn’t make Venti any less worthy of life or love.   he just ... thinks that it was a mistake.

what was he supposed to do, though ?   if he hadn’t done anything, then his poor friend would have been forgotten forever.   and as much as Venti hates himself for choosing to do what he did, he couldn’t let that happen.

[imthebadguyyy]

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.

[danteinthedevildom]

There's a Chat in OM where Satan shows concern over Beel because he saw Beel talking to himself, crouched down in the garden, which Beel later reveals to have been him talking to a very frail plant he found because Mammon told him that talking to flowers helps them grow.

And what I adore about this is that it shows things about the brothers involved that we don't always get to see in the main game, or that are sometimes overlooked for the funny hijinks.

- Beel notices incredibly small details. The flower is small and hidden enough that Satan initially thinks he's talking to himself. He doesn’t actually see the plant at all. And Beel is the tallest brother, so it's not as if his height would be any help to him noticing something on the ground that's small, hidden, and frail, especially when he’s doing a task like watering the garden. That’s just a job to be done, and most people would pay more attention to where the water’s going and how much there’s left to do than they would to each individual flower. He must have been paying genuinely close attention to his surroundings to even notice it to begin with.

- Beel's care for things extends even to nature. He talks to the plant because he wants to help it grow. It's just a small, dying flower, one of however many there are in the House’s garden; there’s no reason to fret over it when there’s probably plenty of other flowers around it, and maybe even flowers of the same species. 

But Beel’s genuinely invested in bringing it back to health. He’s seen this tiny, sickly, insignificant flower, and his first thought is to make it better. It's why he later clarifies the situation to MC, asking for more help, because the flower hasn't shown any signs of improvement.

(Very quietly, it makes me wonder if part of the reason he does this is guilt. Maybe Beel just doesn’t like to see things that are dying.)

- Despite how the brothers act towards Mammon most of the time, Beel fully takes on his advice. He spends days talking to the flower because Mammon told him that's something that might work, and it's only when the flower hasn't gotten better that he seeks more help.

At no point did he question this advice. At no point did he think that the “scummy” second-born would say something stupid, or irrelevant, or unhelpful. Mammon told him to talk to the plant, and he so did.

He says that he asked because Mammon was nearby, but at any time he could have just walked right past him, found someone else, and asked them. He could have completely ignored the fact that Mammon was there - especially considering how little the brothers tend to think of his ideas, to begin with - and found someone “more competent”. But he didn’t.

Which means he genuinely has no issues turning to Mammon for help. He genuinely thinks Mammon can give competent advice.

Out of all the brothers, Beel is usually the best when it comes to their overall treatment of the second-born, so maybe that isn’t surprising - but he can be derisive as well.

So it's nice to see, in a situation where it was just the two of them, without the antagonising influence of the others, Beel show he's more than willing to listen to Mammon as a voice of authority and knowledge - especially over something he's worried about. He respects and trusts what Mammon says, and believes it.

- Mammon saw Beel worried over a plant - something small and insignificant that has no greater purpose in the world and hosts no real interest for either of them - and gave him the best genuine advice he could.

Mammon likely doesn't actually know how to care for sick plants, but wanted to try and give Beel something to work with. We know he cares for his brothers deeply - almost (if not exactly) to the point of self sacrifice - so it's not a stretch at all to say he probably suggested talking to the plant in full seriousness, hoping it would help Beel.

It's a common piece of advice, after all. I've heard people say it all the time, from the most amateur gardener to the most professional; talking to your plants keeps them happy and helps them grow.

The bit that really gets me about it, though, is the fact that Mammon... knew it? Out of all things, you'd expect him to care about gardening the least - and to suggest talking to a plant even less. It goes completely against his image, but not against what we know of Mammon as a kind and caring (as well as emotional) demon beneath the facade.

Him, in a similar position to Beel, crouched down low and out of sight to murmur quietly to a plant he thinks needs an extra boost, is well within the spectrum of things Mammon would do but deny doing if caught.

And I just think it's sweet, imagining him passing on advice he's used in the past over a similar thing he might have done to try and help his clearly worried little brother.

- Satan, in a chat with Solomon and MC, shows genuine care and concern towards Beel.

His first instinct is to ask MC and Solomon if they might know what’s going on. He’s noticed a pattern of behaviour that’s unusual for Beel - “sitting out in the garden, mumbling to himself”, to quote him directly - and once it’s gotten to a point that he’s worried, he asks if anyone else knows what’s wrong.

It shows a fair bit of forethought, too. Satan didn’t immediately assume something was up, didn’t immediately dogpile on Beel; he let it play out, keeping a close eye, until it went on for long enough that he thought it might be something bigger. He’s often shown as being thoughtful about how others might react to things (at least, when he’s not enraged), but it’s interesting to see the actual depth of not only his caring, but his understanding of emotional states and how to handle them. 

Satan isn’t heartless. If he notices something wrong, he’s very likely to approach the person in question (or people he trusts) with his concerns in a very gentle manner explicitly to avoid overwhelming them. He actively cares enough to pay attention to the people around him, and to notice when someone starts acting differently. 

This is especially sweet when it comes to Beel. The brothers have a tendency to treat Beel as the big, gentle giant who doesn’t have a worry in the world except for what he wants to eat. He’s quiet, complains little, and shoulders so many burdens in stride that they often overlook his struggles - if they’re even aware that they exist, because Beel loves his family so much he tries to avoid troubling them.

The fact, then, that Satan not only noticed, not only inquired about his health, but then - when Solomon and MC suggest that maybe Beel’s stressed out and bottling up his emotions - openly says this: 

Just shows so much love. The game sometimes overlooks just how much Satan loves his family, but this? This shows it, without a doubt. 

- Satan messages the chat with Solomon in it. 

This surprised me when I went back to look over the conversation; I genuinely remembered it as him talking to Levi, for some reason. Beyond that, if you asked me who I thought it’d be that he questioned for information regarding Beel’s health, it wouldn’t be Solomon that immediately jumped to mind. 

In this situation, you’d think it’d make more sense for him to ask MC and Asmo (who he’s shown to have a very close and affectionate relationship with), or maybe MC and Belphie (who would probably be the first demon anyone should go to regarding Beel, and who Satan definitely gets on with). 

As far as I’ve seen - which, admittedly, I’m not caught up on any of the Human World events from the main game beyond spoilers I’ve looked up - there’s not a lot of, if any, interactions between Beel and Solomon? Most of them are Solomon trying to give Beel food, and Beel trying to foister that food off onto someone else because Solomon’s cooking is one of the few things he can’t stomach. 

So maybe it says more about Satan’s relationship with Solomon. Looking back through the chats, Solomon feels comfortable enough with Satan to outright ask him if he’s kissed MC (in the chat where Luke overheard Satan and MC talking about K.I.S.S.), and Satan doesn’t react negatively even though it’s a genuinely personal question.

Likewise, Satan, when furious over one of his dramas, immediately turns to the chat with MC and Solomon in it. He explicitly states that he doesn’t know what to do with the feelings he’s got left over from the cliffhanger, and wants to talk it over with the two humans. Which is interesting in two ways: 

+ It shows that Satan is comfortable enough when angry to go to Solomon and MC, confident that they won’t actively make it worse (which is always possible when it comes to Satan’s Wrath once it’s ignited). 

+ It shows that Satan’s more than happy to talk about how he feels in front of Solomon, and actively engaging him in that discussion. Yes, it’s only over a drama, but you don’t often turn to someone you don’t trust when you want to vent over something you’re passionate about. 

There’s a fair bit of trust between them, I think, regardless of how either of them are typically viewed. Plus, the chat’s called Cat (3). It’s almost definitely just a pun, but the fact that a chat with Solomon and MC in it is also named after the one thing that can soothe Satan from an outright rage (as we’ve seen both in OtakuFM and in the main game) is interesting in what it implies about their relationship with him. 

So, back to what I originally pondered: why did he go to Solomon and MC when he was concerned about Beel, and not Belphie (Beel’s twin, most likely to know what he’s up to) or Asmo (who lives at the House and is absolutely more likely to have seen Beel in the garden)? 

He trusts Solomon and MC enough to take the matter seriously, with discretion. 

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

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

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

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

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

Rated T, gen.

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

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

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

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

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

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

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

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

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

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

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

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

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

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

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

“For free?” Rex demands.

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

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

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

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

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

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

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

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

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

“Yeah?”

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

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My last fight--”

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

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

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

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

“Jedi?”

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

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

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

“Bit young for that.”

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

“Not in command.”

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

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

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

This part of the story is his.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the difference?”

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

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

“Time travel.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s say I believe you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That why you’re special?”

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

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

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

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caf?”

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

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

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

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

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

“Try me anyway.”

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

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

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

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

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

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

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

“You’re hard on yourself.”

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

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

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

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

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

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

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

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

It’s Depa.

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

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

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

“Are you Depa?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

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

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

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

Does she?

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

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

Right. That.

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

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

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

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

That was a forgone conclusion.

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

She does.

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

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

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

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

She feels more like a person come morning.

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

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

“Feeling better?”

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

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

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

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

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

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

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

Of course it isn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

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

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

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

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

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

"No, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

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

“Fett?”

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

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

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

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

“And you just kept doing it.”

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

He doesn’t answer her.

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

Rex greets them before she does.

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

She recognizes one of them.

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

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

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

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

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not like they know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

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

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

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

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

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was what?”

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

That’s pretty true.

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

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

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

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

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

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

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

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

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

“I get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

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

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

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

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

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

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

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

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That one gets her an odd look.

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

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

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

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

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

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

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

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

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

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

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

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drop your elbow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

“And you?”

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

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

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

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

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

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

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

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

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

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

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

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

He licks her palm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whose idea was this?”

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

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

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

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

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

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

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

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

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

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

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

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

Then fucking Denon happens.

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

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

Fuel.

Paperwork.

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

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

It’s just a pit stop.

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

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

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

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

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

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

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call me that.”

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

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

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

He’s examining a papaya.

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

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

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

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

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

“It appears so, Sir.”

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

“Seems it.”

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

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

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

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

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

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

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

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

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

This was true and accurate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rex snorts derisively.

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

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

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

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

“Oh, yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

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

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

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

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

“I’m wh--”

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

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

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

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

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

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

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

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

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

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

Rex snorts.

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

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

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

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

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

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

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

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

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

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

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

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

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

He bares his teeth.

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

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

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

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

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

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

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

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

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

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

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

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

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

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

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

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

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

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

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

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

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

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

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

“I’d prefer not to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She goes to the cargo hold.

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

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

She’s fine.

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

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

“Um.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to spar?”

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

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

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

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

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

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

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

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

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

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

“No, you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t break right away.

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

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

“Sokari?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

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

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

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

“Commander.”

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

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

Right, sparring.

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

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

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

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

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

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

“Soka.”

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

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

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

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

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

“Soka?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he does.

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

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

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

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

“He’s--”

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

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

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

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

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

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

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

She shivers.

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

She probably should.

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

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

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

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

Again. Again. Again.

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

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

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

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

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

She just stares at him.

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

She can’t.

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

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

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

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

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

“Tell me something good.”

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

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

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

Good things.

About Anakin.

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

Did they?

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

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

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

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

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

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You... want to be sedated?”

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

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

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

“You don’t know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

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

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

“That’s all?”

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

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not the beskad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not even trying!”

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

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

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

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

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

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

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

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

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

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

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

“What about those not yet born?”

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

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

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

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

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

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

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

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

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

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[drakenology]

Arguments - feat Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima and Tamaki Amajiki

author’s note: i’m feeling angsty today. so this is gonna be about arguing with some of the bnha characters. anyone else feel off today? just me?

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff 🥺, and suggestive themes not full on smut. characters aged up! some of these are long.. i was feeling dramatic

headers from @annicon

Bakugo

as much as i love this man i can admit he would be SOO stubborn

would get frustrated easily

yells 🥺

he knows when to walk away when the conversation isn’t getting anywhere which is good

would NEVER hurt you (i’ve seen ppl write that this mf hits you... girl...domestic violence is not an aesthetic.)

he isn’t the best with words so it’ll take him a little while to admit he’s wrong because he can’t verbalize how sorry he is sometimes

when he does he’ll hug and kiss you and apologize like a million times after he’s done being a stubborn little prick.

gives you the best “i’m sorry “ dick imaginable holy shit

Bakugo done did it. He pissed you off. You were already having a terrible day and then you come home to this motherfucker with a bunch of people over after you told him that you weren’t in the mood for company. So for the rest of the night when everyone left, you gave him the silent treatment knowing that he HATES when you ignore him on purpose.

“Y/N?”

You say nothing, continuing scrolling through your phone to look like you were preoccupied.

“Y/N, what’s your problem? I know you hear me.” Bakugo persists.

You ignore him, turning your back to face him. He grunts and grabs your shoulder, turning you back around to face him.

“Y/N if you’re pissed at me just say that. But ignoring me is fucking immature and it’s pissing me off!” He yells. Translation: “What did I do? 🥺”

“I’M pissing YOU off!? That’s funny. Because it’s not like you didn’t completely ignore my fucking feelings tonight. Why did you invite Kirishima and Denki over after I specifically said I didn’t feel like playing fucking HOSTESS!” You shout back, throwing your phone somewhere.

“Are you serious!? I never told them to come here they just showed up. What was I supposed to do tell them to piss off!?” Katsuki asked.

“YES!” You scream, annoyed that he’s not getting the reason why you’re upset. You never minded having Bakugo’s friends over but you just wanted to have a calm night with just the two of you. You were exhausted and fixing dinner for you and 3 other people and listening to loud chatter about sports and video games was not on your to-do list.

“This is so fucking petty! I don’t get why you’re so mad that they came over.” Katsuki said shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s the problem, idiot! You don’t fucking get it! I worked all day today. I just wanted us to relax but no, you wanted to have a fucking guys night in my living room! It’s the complete disregard for my feelings that’s pissing me off not the fact that they came. I told you I was tired and you having them come over anyways was like a big fuck you to me!” You explain, your face pulled into a face Katsuki knows is your angry face. Bakugo sighs, not ready to admit that he was wrong.

“Tch. Whatever. I’m gonna go sleep on the fucking couch. Let me know when you’re done being fucking frigid.” He shouts, clearly out of anger.

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Katsuki leaves your shared room and slammed the door, you throwing yourself onto the bed. You feel tears sting your eyes as you sob into your pillow. You hated fighting with Bakugo, and you knew he hated it too. He has a hard time expressing himself without getting defensive sometimes. But you knew he felt bad. You sigh and close your eyes and go to sleep.

The next morning you get up from bed and get ready to start your day. You shower and brush your teeth, you and Bakugo strategically avoiding each other all morning to go and do your daily routines. You didn’t utter a word to each other. Just questions and short answers.

“Got work?”

“Yup.”

“When?”

“7:30.”

The silence killed you both as you sat at the table and ate breakfast, Bakugo’s face pulled into a frown as he ate. You roll your eyes and go to put your dishes in the sink and grab his once he’s done. You can hear him get up from his chair as you wash both your plates and dry them. You had assumed he was leaving so you just wash all the rest of the dishes without turning your back. Suddenly you felt familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Let me go.” You say, tearing up at the sudden touch. He was trying to make up with you and you were so ready to forgive him. The tension was almost too much to bear. This fight was small and it turned into something way bigger than need be.

“Not until you listen to me. I’m sorry, ok? I should have never yelled at you the way I did. And calling you frigid wasn’t ok either. I shoulda just told everyone to go home. We have those dumbasses over all the time. One night wouldn’t have killed me. I’m sorry. Can we just forget this shit ever happened? I hate it when you’re mad at me.” He pleaded, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You smile and turn around to look at his face, cupping his cheeks in both your hands as you stand on you tip toes to kiss him. He kisses you back eagerly, happy that you and him are back on good terms. He pulled away from the heated kiss and looks at the clock on the microwave.

“6:30...we still have an hour to kill. If you’re late I’ll drop you off.” Katsuki says, his eyes turning dark with feral lust.

“Late? What are yo-“ you’re interrupted by Bakugo pulling you into your bedroom with determination to make things right.. his way.

Tamaki (🥺 my new found love)

Tamaki is NOT a confrontational person so arguing with you is really hard. He hates raising his voice or even getting to a point to where he’s angry because he doesn’t want to think about hurting you in anyway.

He’ll shut down and turn cold or try and act nonchalant.

he might even avoid conflict by changing the subject

if he’s riled up enough though he’ll cuss you out.. to his dismay

doesn’t like being mad at you and vice versa

hates arguments.. like honestly can you just get over it so he can eat you out now?

speaking of eating you out, he gives apology head and he won’t stop until you say you forgive him.

Tamaki didn’t like to admit it but he was really jealous. Like really really jealous like YANDERE type jealous. You and him were out to dinner with Mirio so you were all chatting about mindless nothing, catching up like you always do. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for you but to Tamaki it appeared that Mirio was a little too playful at dinner with you. He was cracking jokes and poking fun and Tamaki took it as him flirting with you; which Mirio would never disrespect your relationship like that. Rage sat in the pit of Tamaki’s chest as you laugh at all his jokes. He was furious but hid it pretty well for the night.

“And then Tamaki wet himself in front of the whole class when I scared him with my quirk in middle school. Can you believe it?” Mirio laughs, causing you to laugh at the thought.

“Oh leave him alone, Togata.” You giggle, waving your hand in front of your face to stop the tears from laughter. He had been making you laugh all night all to Tamaki’s disliking. He was quiet all dinner, which you noticed immediately after Togata’s last joke.

“Hey Tamaki, is everything ok?” You ask, concerned that he might not want to be out anymore.

“Yeah.” He said coldly. “Actually I’m just gonna go to the car. I feel kinda sick.” He stands from his seat and walks to the exit, absolutely fucking furious that you were “flirting” with his childhood friend right in front of him.

“Awkward. What’s up with him?” Mirio asks, completely dumb founded by Tamaki’s sudden disappearance.

“I dunno. I’m gonna go to the car and see what’s wrong. Do you mind?” You ask, standing from your seat.

“Nah that’s cool. I’m actually gonna head out. You go on ahead, Y/N. I’ll take care of the tab.. this time.” Mirio jokes. You giggle and thank him, walking towards the exit. You walk through the parking lot and find the car, seeing Tamaki sitting in the passenger side with his arms crossed across his chest. What was his deal? You open the car door and sit in the driver’s side to meet a thick tension.

“What’s wrong Tamaki? Do you really feel sick or are you upset with me?” You ask.

“Why don’t you ask Mirio? I’m sure he’ll be able to answer since he’s the only guy you talked to all night. It was like I wasn’t even there.” Tamaki says, calm but obviously pestered.

“Is that was this is about? Tama you know it wasn’t like that. Mirio has always been a jokester what’s the difference now?” You ask, getting a little upset at his accusation.

“The difference is that he was trying to make a pass at you. He was so obviously flirting with you.” He says, his tone becoming stern. You’re shocked at how he was getting, frowning at how unreasonable he was being.

“No he wasn’t, Tamaki.” You say, looking him dead in his eyes.

“Yes he was. I’m not about to fight with you about this he was clearly fucking flirting with you. He joked with you all night and you laughed at every single thing he said. You must want to fuck him, don’t you?” He asked, looking at you with some sort of betrayal in his eyes. This infuriates you.

“What are you talking about!? You know I would never cheat on you Tamaki. Especially not with your best friend. What’s with you!?” You ask sternly, not amused or pleased in the slightest.

“Whatever, Y/N.” Tamaki says, looking out the car window while turning the other way so he’s not facing your side of the car. He knew this was stupid and he knew your loyalty was never to be questioned but he couldn’t shake this feeling of jealousy.

“No. You don’t get to start a fight and then blow me off when you’re through arguing! Talk to me!” You yell, furious at this point. Tamaki shrugs, avoiding the situation entirely now.

“Just drive. I wanna go home.” He says, not taking his eyes off the view from his window. You roll your eyes and start the car, pulling out of the parking lot to start your way home. The drive home was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You were so angry that you didn’t talk to Tamaki the whole way home, knowing you’d probably cuss him out if he said the wrong thing. Tamaki immediately felt bad after picking that fight. He didn’t know what came over him, he knew he had to make it up to you before you two go to bed angry with each other. You approach your shared apartment and park the car, silence still riddling the car. The tension between you both was intense and it scared you. You’ve never seen Tamaki this upset. Jealousy was always an issue for him but he’s never reacted this strongly.

“Y/N?” Tamaki says breaking the silence. You look at him, a little relieved that he’s talking to you again.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I know you’d never cheat on me, of course. But I was just so jealous. It felt like you and Mirio were on a date and I was just the third wheel. The thought of him taking you from me drove me crazy. I wasn’t thinking. Can you forgive me?” He says, placing his hand on top of yours on the steering wheel. You sniffle, tearing up at his apology.

“Tamaki, I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I love you so much. No one could ever take your place, not even Mirio. I’d never betray you like that, ever.” You sob, tears flowing down your face. Tamaki questioning your loyalty really hurt your feelings and he hated seeing you cry.

“I know that. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. It was so stupid of me to even assume.” He says, taking his hand and wiping your tears away. He took your hand and gave it a sweet kiss to soothe you, rubbing circles with his thumb on it as he consoled you. You giggle and wipe your tears, happy that you guys made up after that silly fight.

“Let’s go inside.”

Todoroki

arguments between you two get heated. It gets to a point where sometimes you don’t speak to each other for days. he’ll definitely give small reminders that he still loves you to butter you up to alleviate some of the tension.

raises his voice

just as stubborn as bakugo

to a fault of his upbringing facing his emotions was hard for him sometimes, causing him to be cold when you fight

when it’s time to get over it and make up he’ll make it a huge event; flowers, chocolates and lots of freaky apology sex

cant stand arguing with you just like tamaki but wont back down in the slightest

is sure he doesn’t say anything harsh to make the situation worse.

“Why are you being so stubborn?!” You shout at your bi-colored haired boyfriend. The two of you have been fighting all day to your surprise. Shoto was usually easy going and you two hardly fought. But today, a bug seemed to have crawled up Todoroki’s ass and he’s been picking fights all day. You’ve been arguing about small things like who left the bathroom light on or who ate the last hot pocket. Right now it was an argument about when you’re going to meet his father Endeavor. It’s been almost a year since you two have been together and you don’t even think his father knows you exist.

“For the last time Y/N we’re not going to my dad’s house. That’s final! You can argue with yourself about this. End of discussion.” Shoto says, very annoyed at the thought of being near his father. He still couldn’t stand him, even as an adult. He can’t bring himself to bring you around him because he knows how he can be. If he even says something slightly rude to you he’ll flip the fuck out. You groan in frustration, wishing he’d at least consider.

“He doesn’t know we’re together does he!? What am I to you some secret? Why did you stay with me all this time if your family doesn’t even know I exist !?” You shout, tearing up with seering anger.

“It’s not that. Of course he knows we’re together; my whole family knows! Why do you want to involve him so badly?!” Shoto yells.

“Why wouldn’t I want to meet my fucking boyfriend’s father!? You’re not making any sense.” You say, getting more and more frustrated as Shoto makes excuses.

“You know what? Fine. We’ll go meet him tomorrow. But as soon as he treats you like you’re not good enough for me don’t be surprised when I tell you I fucking told you so. God you can be so stubborn sometimes.” Shoto shouts, rolling his eyes at you.

“Oh I’M stubborn!? That’s rich coming from you. You’re being so unreasonable right now. I know you and your father-“

“YOU DONT KNOW SHIT ABOUT MY FATHER. Stop speaking on things you haven’t the first idea about!” Shoto yells, punching a nearby wall. (Oop.) You flinch, shocked at how angry he got so quickly. You tear up and run off to your bedroom, Todoroki immediately regretting getting so upset with you. He scared you and that’s something he never wanted to do to you under any circumstances. You cried yourself to sleep that night, angry that things got so heated. Why did he react like that? And why was he treating you as if you knew nothing about him and his father. He would vent to you about him all the time and you gave him advice when you could. But tonight you felt like you were nothing but an outsider. Shoto didn’t even bother coming into the room. He couldn’t face you after making you cry. Right now, he hated himself for treating you like that. He was just so afraid of his father’s judgement he didn’t want him to hurt your feelings with how crass he was. If Endeavor found the slightest thing wrong with you he’d never let you or him forget it. He could hear him now calling you unworthy of the Todoroki name. The thought alone enraged him. In his own cryptic way, he was trying to protect you from him but this was no way to do it nor did he have the right. Todoroki slept on the couch, missing your warmth against him in your bed.

The next morning the two of you drove to the Todoroki estates in silence. You were still pissed at him and Shoto didn’t want to say anything to further upset you. He was annoyed he was making this trip in the first place but he knew he had to man up for your sake. It was unfair of him to try and keep you away from his family especially since you would one day take on his name and be a part of the family when he married you. He knew he couldn’t keep you away forever, but god couldn’t he have had a little more time? He dreaded this day.

“Ready?” Shoto asks coldly, trying to hide his remorse from his tone. You nod, getting out of the car before he could walk over and open the door for you. Shoto is surprised and gets out with you, guiding you to his old home. He can’t lie, he’s so fucking nervous. What if he hates you? Not that he cares what he thinks, he’ll marry you anyway but still. He at least wants his blessing. You walk with Shoto to the main room of the home and wait for Endeavor to come downstairs. Suddenly you hear footsteps from across the room. It was him. He was tall and his aura was so dark and intimidating.

“You must be Y/N.” Endeavor says, looking down at your small frame. You nod, a wave of nervousness shooting through your body.

“N-Nice to meet you sir.” You bow respectfully.

“No need for that. Please, have a seat.” Endeavor says gesturing to the couch. You and Shoto sit down next to each other, Endeavor following suit by sitting across from you two.

“So.. how long have you two been together?” Endeavor asks, his booming voice almost sending an echo throughout the empty room. You gulp and look towards Shoto.

“10 months.” He answers for you, taking your hand to calm you. You’re still mad at him but god you’re glad he’s doing his best to ease your anxiety.

“And you just now arrange a meeting? Hm.” Endeavor questions, looking at you as if he was scanning you to find something irredeemable about you. You look down at your lap, unable to keep eye contact with the intimidating man.

“I-I wanted to meet with you sooner. Me and Shoto fought about coming here last night but I convinced him.” You say nervously.

“I see. You seem like an ok girl. Shoto has had his fair share of.. inadequate women in his life so, you’re a step up from the rest.” Endeavor says, motioning for a maid to make you all some tea. You laugh nervously, Shoto squeezing your hand in annoyance. Was that a compliment?

“You two seem like you’ve been fighting.” Endeavor says suddenly, observing both your body language. You’re both shocked as you turn to look at each other. How’d he know that?

“What’s it to you?” Shoto asks, glaring at his father.

“Oh nothing. But if you’re planning on marrying this girl it’s probably best to not argue too much with her. Hell, she might up and leave.”

Shoto looks at you, pain in his eyes. The look on his face alone said “I’m sorry.” Shoto hated to admit it but his father was right. Fighting as much as you have been, especially the fight you had last night was toxic and could take a toll on your relationship.

You smile at him and turn to Endeavor

“I’d never leave him.” You say, snuggling closer to Shoto as he blushed. He was embarrassed that he was being so vulnerable around his father but he knew that only you could make this happen.

After a long conversation with Endeavor and Shoto, you leave with a feeling that you might have won him over. You think? He was hard to read, just like Shoto. He was more like his father than he likes to admit. Shoto opens the car door for you to get inside and then walks to the drivers side to come in. You sit in the car for a while, silent until Shoto grabs you and leans over to kiss you. You kiss him back, tearing up into the kiss.

“I’m sorry, snowflake. I can’t believe I raised my voice at you like that. I was just so scared that he was gonna hate you and say something disrespectful. I should have just told you that instead of being defensive. I’m so so sorry I scared you. Please forgive me. ” He pleaded, peppering kissing on your face.

“I know. And I forgive you.” You giggle, pulling Todoroki closer to you to kiss him again.

Kirishima

Out of all the boys he’s the least stubborn when it comes to fighting. But don’t be fooled, he’ll argue you down. he’s very good at managing his temper when it comes to you.

Regrets starting a fight in the first place

Just wants to cuddle and go back to normal

But when he’s angry hooo boy

doesn’t even yell, he’s like a calm angry which is terrifying

tries talking over you, trying to plead his case

will not rest until the situation is resolved and over with so you guys can move on

like all the others... apology sex

will try not to lose his patience

You and Kirishima had been together for a while now so it was only inevitable that you two have your first fight. You were always a vigilant person and wanted to help others even though you were quirkless like Deku was at one point. Kirishima is protective of you to a fault and the thought of you getting hurt or worse didn’t sit well with him at all. You assured him that you were capable of taking care of yourself and protecting yourself but he wasn’t having any of it. You spent years perfecting your martial arts skills, training your ass off for countless hours everyday and he knew that. But he didn’t want you to one day meet your match without him there to protect you.

“Y/N, drop it. You’re not going on missions with me and that’s final. It’s too dangerous.” Eijiro said, his brows furrowed. He was trying not to lose his patience with you but you kept insisting. He just wished you’d forget about this whole thing; for your safety.

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do! I’m fully capable for taking care of myself and you know that.” You yell, irritated at your boyfriend underestimating your abilities. Eijiro sighs and stands up from the couch to stand in front of you, inching so close you could almost kiss.

“I’ll die before I let you go out there. Do you know what would happen to me; to your friends and family if something happened to you!? We’d be crushed. Please just drop this.” Kirishima says, wanting to avoid this conversation all together. But alas, nothing was changing your mind. You were very head strong and stubborn to no avail so you weren’t going down without a fight.

“You can’t stop me!” You yell

“Oh I can’t?” Eijiro challenged.

“No. You can’t. You can’t treat me like a child, Eijiro.” You say. “How can you say I’m not ready if you don’t give me a chance to prove I am!?”

“Because you just aren’t! Okay!? You say you’re not a child but you’re acting like one and a petulant one at that. Just drop it! God, you can be so stubborn sometimes. Don’t you see I’m just trying to keep you safe!?” Kirishima yells, instantly regretting raising his voice at you and losing his cool. You tear up, furious that he’s treating you like some kid. You grab your stuff and prepare to leave his apartment.

“Where are you going?” Kirishima sighs

“Fuck you, Eijiro.” You say, walking away from him and going outside to cool off. Kirishima tries to grab you before you leave but you snatch your arm away from him and walk outside with a huff and a slam of the door. You wipe your hot tears away and start aimlessly walking down the street to go home. Hell, you don’t even know your way home from Eijiro’s place but you’ll be damned if you go back there. As you walk you see Kirishima’s car pull up to the side of you, driving slowly to keep up with your walking pace.

“Y/N please get in the car.” He says out the car window

“No! I don’t wanna talk to you so just go away!” You yell, continuing to walk as the brisk wind assaults your bare skin. Dammit you forgot your coat.

“Y/N! You’re being ridiculous just please get in the car. You left your jacket; it’s freezing out here!” Eijiro shouts, getting out of the car and grabbing you to pull you inside. You groan, obviously being overpowered by your strong boyfriend. Kirishima slams the door and gets back inside, drives back to his apartment and parks in the driveway. He sighs and leans his head on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry I got so heated with you. But can you blame me? I’m worried about you. Sure we’ll be on these missions together but what if something happens? What if I’m not there to protect you when something goes wrong? These missions are unpredictable; anything could happen and I’d literally die if even a scratch is put on you.” Eijiro pleads. You start crying, sniffling at his words. He was right to be worried.

“I love you, Eijiro and I appreciate you being so concerned about me. But that doesn’t give you the right to shelter me. You can’t just force me to not follow my dream.” You sob, wiping your tears away. Eijiro grabs your hand and kisses it.

“I know. I just can’t bear the thought of you being hurt. But if this is what you really want, I have no choice but to at least see this through.” Kirishima says, holding your small hand in his two massive ones. You smile, putting your other hand on top of his.

“Thank you. Also, I’m sorry for saying fuck you to you. That was mean.” You say pouting.

“It was. Hurt my feelings.” Eijiro said faking sadness, immediately laughing as he watched your face frown up again at the thought of hurting his feelings.

“Oh shut up.”

[ttuesday]

Hi! Could you do one where the fellers take care/react to a reader who has depression and is having a bad day/few days? Thank you! <3 <3 <3

I hope you get through this slump anon, honestly I’ve felt the same way too recently but I’m sure we’re both gonna get through this wave of bad days <3

Arthur

Arthur noticed your change in mood after the first day. He could tell something was off but he didn’t want to push you for answers. He had asked you if you were ok and you’d always reply saying you were fine, though that was an obvious lie. 

After a few days and seeing no improvement in your mode, Arthur decides to push you a little more. This time after you said you were yet again ‘fine’, he sighs “You sure? You seem down lately”. He isn’t great with his words and scared of saying the wrong thing.

He knows that whenever he feels down that saying around camp can do more harm than good, so Arthur suggests you go stake out Cornwall’s factory with him for a mission. Nothing much happens but giving your mind something else to focus on certainly helps.

If you do decide to tell Arthur about how you’re feeling, he stays quiet and nods along to everything you say. Even if you only tell him a small bit, he feels honoured that you trust him enough to say it and he makes sure you know that no matter what, he’s always going to be there for you.

Charles

Charles could tell from your demeanour that something wasn’t right. It’s the little things Charles picked up on, like how you now had to force a smile more often or how you always seemed distracted during conversations. 

Charles overheard a few of the others asking if you were ok and you always gave the same answer so he didn’t bother asking you that question again. Instead he asks if you’ll go hunting with him. He tells you how he needed an extra pair of hands acts totally casual .

After a nice ride through the forest and some relaxed conversation, Charles leads you through to a small opening where he apparently saw some deer. He hopes being out in nature and away from everyone will help your mind relax.

He doesn’t push you to talk about how you feel, Charles just wants you to have a good time and to have a genuine smile on your face. If you want to talk about your feelings then Charles is happy to listen and try to come up with solutions but ultimately he just wants you to have a good day.

Dutch

It took Dutch a few days to fully realise you were feeling down but he does notice it eventually. First he just presumed that you were feeling down because a job didn’t go to plan but he got worried when you’re mood didn’t seem to lighten.

His first approach to trying to cheer you up is by giving you materialistic goods. Dutch surprises you by giving you a shiny new pocket watch he just so happened to ‘find’ somewhere and he even gives you some money form the donations box and tells you to buy yourself something nice.

But Dutch can see that his plan didn’t work. Sure materialistic items are nice but they didn’t change how you were feeling. It’s times like this Dutch is happy he has Hosea to give him some advice on how to help you.

While the gang is distracted serving up dinner, Dutch pulls you aside and says “I know you haven’t been yourself lately and I know I can’t make you talk to me but if you ever feel like chatting, I’m always here for you”. He doesn’t want you to feel forced into talking but Dutch wants to make sure you know he’s there.

Micah

Micah knows this sounds kinda creepy but he likes to keep an eye on you when you’re in camp. So because of this, it’s actually pretty obvious to him when your mood changes.

When he tries to get you to open up first, he’s very abrupt and straight out asks you what’s wrong with you. But when he realises this method only pushes you further away from him, he attempts to take a more relaxed and calm approach.

When he sees you’ve trailed off by the edge of camp, Micah follows you out with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He’s always found it easier to talk when he’s had a drink and he’s hoping you’ll feel the same. 

He doesn’t expect you to tell him all about how you feel but if being there and occasionally annoying you works as a distraction from that dreadful feeling, then he’s happy to do that. He wants you to feel like you can tell him things like this, even though he understands he ain’t the most trustworthy person out there.

John

John can be kinda awkward at times and sure, he doesn’t know how to have those deep emotional conversations but he cares about you and genuinely wants the best for you.

He tries to be subtle about it and says little comments every now and again like “Well you know where I am if you wanna talk” or he’ll compliment you throughout the day, just to make sure you know how great you are as a person.

But when he sees you’re not feeling any better, he starts to worry. On the outside it’s easy to see John as someone who doesn’t notice the change within you but the truth is John sees it but he’s scared that if he brings it up, he’ll accidentally make it worse. 

In the end, John goes with what he feels in the moment. Seeing the sad, drained look on your face, John’s almost sure his heart is breaking. Sighing, he holds out his arms and says “C’mere”. John hugs your for as long as you need, not daring to let go first. Sometimes you’d be surprised how great a hug can be.

Javier

Javier likes seeing your smile. It’s the one thing that’s guaranteed to make his day better. One of his favourite things in the world is making you smile, especially since it gives him that butterfly feeling in his stomach. So he’s recognises when your smile seems too forced or as though you’re smiling without genuinely feeling happy.

Javier sits with you and reminisces about old memories, hoping stories of goofy robberies that somehow didn’t get ye killed would make you smile. And it works! …but only for a little while.

Javier knows that this feeling comes and goes, and that sometimes it can seem like it’s in the background of your mind for weeks. When he first left Mexico, he had strong feelings like this too so he knows how each day can differ and how the feeling fluctuates.

But Javier tells you he’ll be by your side for all of it. He wants to be the shoulder you cry on and for the nights that seem long and dark, he’s there. He lets you rest your head on his lap and Javier hums a few songs as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Bill

We all know what Bill is like. It can take him a while to understand how you feel but the main thing is he tries to help in whatever way he can. At first he thinks that you just feel sad over something. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal and Bill just thinks the feeling will fade in a few days. But it doesn’t.

Something that always helps Bill destress and forget about life’s problems for a while is playing with Cain. He’s convinced that dog has superpowers cause Bill’s in a good mood whenever Cain comes around. One day when Cain comes over to Bill for some belly rubs, Bill gets you to join in too.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with the two of them, using Bill’s bandana to play tug of war with Cain and laughing when Cain flops down on Bill, tired from all the games. 

As ye relax, Bill distracts you some more by telling you a few stories, like when he drunkenly mistook a cow for his horse. Bill doesn’t care if he has to tell you a thousand stories and pet a thousand dogs with you, if it’ll make you smile again then he’s willing to do it.

Sean

Sean wants to be the most helpful person ever. He wants to be there for you through it all, holding your hand each step on the way. Seriously, when Sean sees the shift in your mood and notices you aren’t your usual self then he holds on to your hand and doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

Anytime you want to talk, Sean has no problem stopping whatever he’s doing and giving you his undivided attention. You’re so goddamn special to him and he’s scared of losing you, so he puts 110% into making you feel more comfortable in yourself.

Whenever Sean hears about a robbery or sets up a job, he always brings you along, whether you wanna go or not. He doesn’t think staying around camp all the time is good for you so whenever he goes out, he drags you out with him for a change of scenery

Does Sean know what he’s doing or if he’s helping you overcome this? No, he’s just winging it but this man will literally do anything if it means getting you out of this slump.  

Hosea

This is Hosea, of course he notices when you become more reclusive and depressed. Hosea’s a strong believer in love and support helping people get through anything, and so that’s what he gives you. 

It doesn’t matter where ye are, what time of day it is or if you’re in the middle of a shootout, if you need Hosea then he’s there to reassure you and tell you everything’s going to be alright.

He understands how it can be hard to talk about things like this and how sometimes it feels like you can’t put your emotions into the right words. If you try to talk about how you feel but start to get upset, then Hosea stops you and instead suggests you just sit with him for a while and wait for the feeling to pass.

He never tries to pressure you into talking and if anyone gets pissed off cause you’re not ‘pulling your weight’ around camp then Hosea becomes absolutely furious with them, unholstering his gun making sure the person knows they’re a fool for saying such a thing.

[jiminrings]

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

oh

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

[rockingrobin69]

Learning Curve

Four out of five dentists would recommend against reading this piece (1.7k). Think of your teeth! 

“Uncle Harry, did you know Uncle Draco is a weredragon?”

“A what now?” he frowned, tucking the duvet under Teddy’s chin.

“A weredragon. Like how dad was a werewolf, but with a dragon.”

Harry huffed a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t, Ted.” To be fair, considering all the things he’d learned about him since Malfoy adopted Teddy, Harry wouldn’t be too surprised if he actually turned out to be a weredragon. It won’t even be the most shocking discovery.  

“No, he is. All the best people are were-something, he said. So he’s a weredragon.”

Harry resisted the temptation to ask if he was a were-something, too. “All right then, menace, go to sleep. You can tell me on Sunday if you’d seen him turn.” He shook his head through all the begging, bargaining and trickery, until Teddy finally relented and closed his eyes. Harry chewed on his grin, pressed a kiss to Teddy’s forehead, murmured in his ear and left, silently closing the door behind him.

And then heading out with his usual gracefulness – accidentally knocking into the dresser with a big yelp, stepping over every creaking floorboard, smacking against the door because he wasn’t really looking ahead, he was looking for – ah. Malfoy heard him, it would seem. Standing at the kitchen doorway, leaning against it like some sort of model in a Muggle magazine, rolling his eyes. Harry noticed he was holding his breath.

“Care to join me for a drink, Potter?”

He didn’t know why he was nervous. This happened every night.

The thing is, Harry loved Teddy so much. So, so much, he even considered adopting him himself after Andromeda and all. But Harry’s stupid job was too stupid to allow it, and Malfoy was technically ‘family’. And so Harry came by every day – well, night, stupid job and all – to see how Teddy was doing. And then, every night, he’d run into Malfoy, who had no choice but to invite him for a drink. It would be wine, sometimes, or flavored butterbeer, or – and only once – straight up Ogden’s whisky. But mostly it’d be hot chocolate, which apparently was something Malfoy enjoyed, and something Harry seemed to find quite irresistible.  

Of all the new things he’d learned about Malfoy, this was perhaps one of the most surprising. He made the best hot chocolate. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect sweetness, the perfect texture. Perfection in a cup. Harry followed him into the kitchen, sat in his favorite chair (somewhat dangerously with the way Malfoy’s books were stacked so high behind his back), and turned his gaze to the fridge. Teddy’s newest masterpiece was magicked to the door, and even squinting Harry couldn’t tell what it was meant to be.

“A wolf,” Malfoy muttered as he laid a cup of hot cocoa before Harry. “Your godson is very talented, you know.”

Harry hummed into his cup, probably smearing his nose full of whipped cream. “Bet you I could draw a better one.”

He waited. Some nights Malfoy wasn’t in the mood. He’d be tired, or closed off, and they’d just sit there in silence and stare. Some nights he was restless, far too giddy to stay still, and they’d go for a walk in the forest. But tonight –

Tonight Malfoy was game. He scoffed and summoned two quills and some parchment. “Let’s see – five minutes, best drawing wins?”

Harry grinned privately to himself. There must have been something in that hot chocolate, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he just loved spending nights at Wiltshire.  

*

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one Sunday, sliding into his wellies. “Did you know that Uncle Draco had a pet a stag?”

“What?” Harry was busy arranging a beanie on his orange hair with his tongue between his teeth. “A pet stag?”

“Yeah, when he was a kid. I asked him why he likes them so much, and he told me. His name was Arold and he was very stupid, Uncle Draco said.”

“Arold?” Harry laughed, tilting his head. “Ted, you know Uncle Draco is messing with you, yeah? He never had a pet stag. You can’t have stags as pets.” Malfoy had peacocks, which he hated, and the eagle owl, which he loved, and that was that. No stags. Harry knew that. He picked up every single piece of information about Malfoy slowly, carefully, and catalogued it all in his head. Malfoy was afraid of hippogriffs (still) and very enthusiastic about nifflers. He wanted a kneazle really badly as a kid, but his mother was allergic to the fur. Harry knew these things, now. He even had this insane idea to get a kneazle for him and Teddy, a fantasy he liked to entertain from time to time. Teddy’s words brought him back to reality with his cheeks oddly flushed and his ears ringing.

“That’s what he said.”

Harry wondered why Teddy thought Malfoy liked stags to begin with, but he’d already ran outside and jumped into the nearest puddle, so the question had to wait.

Malfoy was in the kitchen when they returned, and Harry plopped down next to a steaming mug of hot cocoa. The clutter all around practically screamed we actually live here, and Harry felt the warmth of it in his bones. His eyes kept zooming from Malfoy, to Teddy, happily blabbering about the squirrel they’d seen on their walk, and something in him thrummed. We actually live here. The flavor of want was sweet and sadly familiar.

*

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one night in November, a tired little bundle of curiosity that ached in Harry’s chest with affection, “What’s emveeos?”

“Huh?” Harry stopped at the doorway, eyebrows drawn.

“Emveeos. Like if I was emveeos of someone.” Teddy gave him an exasperated little look, a come on you should know this one when Harry simply shook his head. “Uncle Draco said he’s emveeos of me.”

“What? When?” Harry’s heart did a funny little leap. He still didn’t really understand the question, but apparently the mere mention of ‘Uncle Draco’ was enough to ignite this heat inside him.

“Because you always kiss me good night.”

Harry could only shrug, but the heat intensified into something near intolerable. “I dunno, Ted. Best to ask him tomorrow, yeah? You know Uncle Draco is better at these things.” Better at most things, really. Cooking, drawing, writing, teaching. He was just good at everything. Even dancing – Harry had seen photographs of a very sulky boy beautifully performing the tango, no joke. And he could make the best hot chocolate. And –

“Okay. Good night, Uncle Harry.”

“Good night, Menace. I love you.” Harry made sure to tell him that every night, even if Teddy was already asleep. It was good for him too, he thought, to get the practice.

That night there were mini marshmallows in the mug. Harry couldn’t help it anymore; he was so enamored with the – drink – it felt a little like an explosive device in his chest. He found a way to distract Malfoy for a couple of seconds while he covertly drew a vial of the cocoa, stashing it in his pocket. There had to be something wrong with it, a potion or something. There had to, or Harry was losing his mind. He’d lost enough things for a lifetime, he thought.

*

“No, Uncle Harry! Cookies first.”

It was the week before Christmas, and Malfoy was out on a last minute gift shopping trip. Harry and Teddy were in the kitchen together, in charge of lunch, though Teddy was more interested in sampling the Christmas cookies Malfoy had made. To distract him Harry suggested they try to prepare Malfoy’s cocoa – well, also so he’d have something hot to drink when he comes back, because Malfoy always suffered from the cold.

“Oh, Uncle Draco doesn’t like hot chocolate,” Teddy shook his head.

“But,” Harry didn’t know what to do with this information, which stood in stark contrast with everything he knew in this life. “He drinks it all the time with me.”

“No, no, he says it’s too sweet. He never drinks it.”

Harry felt utterly lost. The knowledge he’d collected of Malfoy was the foundation with which he was trying to build this – it was what he stupidly thought he could use to make a home. Hell, he’s been practicing – getting ready for – and all this time, Malfoy was lying?

When Malfoy returned Harry pretty much threw himself at him, boxing Malfoy at the door with all his shopping bags.

“You don’t like hot chocolate,” he said accusingly, and Malfoy’s eyes went big.

“What?”

“You don’t. And you told Ted you had a pet stag and that you’ve embossed him or something like that. But you don’t like hot chocolate.”

“I – “ Harry’s never seen Malfoy so flushed in his life, and was furious with how adorable that was. “All right. I don’t.”

“But you make it almost every night,” Harry contested. He felt a little woozy.

“Yes.” When Harry gave an odd grunt, he closed his eyes. “You like it.”

“So?”

“So…” Malfoy’s shrug was so painfully sad. “I thought you’d… come here if you…”

Harry didn’t wait for the sentence to finally come to a stop, it was taking forever. “So you just lied?” 

“No!” two grey eyes opened, sort of panicked. “I just – I’ve been trying, all right? all this time, to learn to… to get to know you. All these things about you, and then I saw how much you liked it when I made hot cocoa for Teddy and – I just. Want you to. Have. Things that you like.”

Harry couldn’t feel his tongue. His head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do about this, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know – he just didn’t know. Sadness was familiar, and losing, and being lied to, but – but this –

“Kiss him, Uncle Harry!” a little voice carried from behind him, and startled he caught a glimpse of blue hair. Hell. A quarter of his age, and Teddy was at least twice as clever. Harry leaned forward and did the only thing that made sense, and the kiss was solid enough to build on. Malfoy’s lips were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hot chocolate, no matter how good, could never compare.

Wow, I really ran away with this one... Today was day 6 of my Seven Sins of Drarry one-shot collection, and was all about - Teddy almost had it: envy! Hope you’re ready to be good, because there’s only one sin left!

Day 1: wrath   | Day 2: lust  | Day 3: sloth  | Day 4: greed  | Day 5: gluttony | Day 7: pride

[raggaraddy]

hello, so if you still take requests i want to request yandere reaction where the reader is as possesive as them, or like she willingly do anything for them and obey them. its totally okay if you dont feel like writing it or maybe you dont take request.. its just im craving reading something like that and youre a great writer :)

A/N: Hi, I am still new to writing reactions, so I hope that this is what you wanted or you at least like it.  Thank you for your sweet comments. Enjoy!

Mine

Summary: When another girl gets a little too comfortable with Jungkook your reaction's a surprise to the both of you.

Trigger warnings: Fighting, mentions of abuse, violence.

Jungkook

You had begged Jungkook to take you with him tonight. He'd been so busy with work lately and you'd found yourself missing him too much when he was gone. So when he said he wasn't staying home tonight, but he was instead going out to a bar with some of his friends, you were enthusiastic for him to take you with him. It had used to be the complete opposite. Every time he left you alone, gave you some time to breathe on your own, you were thrilled. But more and more you'd started noticing him in a new light.

Sure he's rough and demanding sometimes. And yeah, he can lose his temper every now and then. But you're not perfect either, and you know it must be hard for him, especially when you behaved so insensitively at first. However, despite your flaws or his, he deeply loves you. He accepts you for who you are and he wants nothing more than to keep you safe. How could you ever find anyone else who cared for you as much as your Kookie did?

The night started as every night out with Jungkook did. He listed out the same rules over that he had said dozens of times before.

You have to listen to everything he says and do everything he says. You don't talk to anyone unless he's with you, and most importantly, you never leave his sight. You had tried to run off a few times in the past, so you knew how deathly serious he was about that last one.

After thoroughly prepping you, and dressing you, and warning you one last time to mind the rules, the both of you finally went to meet his friends.

"Sit. Here." Jungkook pointed to the booth table at the back of the bar. You slid in and he right away pushed in alongside you, nudging you in further and further until you were all but barricaded against the wall. As his friends began to come in one by one, they all joined in a large group. While the night went on, you talked among his friends and their girlfriends. A few people got food, but most people were just drinking to excess. You of course got the choice of soda or water. Every now and then throughout the evening, you could feel JK's attention on you, and you would hug his arm a little tighter to let him know you were paying attention to him too.

At some point, it was Jungkooks turn to buy the next round.

"Y/n." He whispered lowly. Even in the middle of a conversation and with the music playing in the background, his voice caught your focus right away. You looked up to him, a small smile and big eyes. "I'll be back in a few minutes." His lips pressed to your ear, his warm breath blowing along your neck spiking tingles down your side. "If you even try to move while I'm gone, I'm going to pin you to the table by putting this butter knife through your hand." He twirls the point of the dull knife into the table, scratching the wood.

Your smile grows a little bit bigger at his threat. Not because you think he wouldn't do it, but because you know there is no way he would ever need to do it. You're not going anywhere.

Your fingers linger with his, holding on for a few seconds extra as he gets up. While the conversations go on, your concentration keeps flicking to Kookie. Watching every now and then to make sure he hasn't left your sight either.

On one momentary glance, you catch sight of some random woman standing too close to him. They're at the bar, and it's quite crowded so it could be nothing, but she doesn't look like she is ordering drinks. She's completely facing him. Talking to him.

Slowly your frustration starts to build as a few minutes pass and they stay in the same position. You don't know who she is, you've never seen her before. Jungkook's body language expresses that he doesn't know her as well. She, however, is acting way too familiar. Laughing, smiling, flicking her hair and pushing her chest out like some kind of desperate slut.

You're trying to let it pass. But after only about 10 minutes of silent stewing, that's all you can tolerate. You know your Kookie has no interest in any other girls. He's just too innocent to realize that this girl is flirting with him. That, or he is only trying to be polite.

She crosses the line though when she decides to put her hand on his arm.

He might have told you to stay in your seat, and you know he is going to at the very least slap you for willingly going against his rules, but you have had enough and you're not going to allow this bitch to paw all over him anymore.

Shuffling out of the booth, you take heavy, furious steps towards them. The second you're in reach you draw against Jungkooks side, wrapping your arm around his. At the same time, you roughly and forcefully shove the heel of your palm into this girls shoulder, knocking her back and off of him. She stumbles looking shocked and fleetingly frightened. You're not done sending a message yet.

"The next part of you that tries to touch him is going to get stabbed!" You growl. Jungkook leans back a little to look at you. A mix of intrigue and surprise coming together to form a smirk on his face. It's not just from the forceful action you made, but also the confident, ruthless way you spoke to intimidate her.

This woman is dumb though. She either doesn't see or doesn't understand how sincerely you made that threat. "Wow," she scoffs. Yelling, trying to be louder than the music, "Is this your girlfriend? She's a psycho." she mocks, stepping forward, speaking directly to Jungkook. You pull yourself in front of him, dragging his hand around your waist to wrap on your hip, your fingers lacing over the top of his. Even with you standing between them, eyes burning with hostility she still doesn't back down. "If you want a cool girlfriend, you can come home with me, baby." She propositions him, with the cherry on top of calling him baby. Calling your Kookie baby! Who the fuck does this bitch think she is?!

You snap forward and slam your curled up fist into her face as hard as you can. She mustn't have been expecting that at all because she falls like a ton of bricks. Knocking into two or three other people behind her before she ultimately falls on to the floor.

Honestly, you've never hit someone before, and you didn't realize it would hurt so much. So you have to quickly shake your hand feeling the bones bruised and jarred. You regain your composure by the time she can gain hers and looks back up to you. You step over the top of her getting into her personal space. "Go find someone else to be a pathetic whore with." You snap. "He's mine!"

She scrambles out from under you and back to her feet, sensibly darting away. Over your shoulder, you can see Jungkook taking control of the consequences of your interaction, assuaging the bartender's concerns. JK knows them all, so if they know that it's him, they're not going to make a fuss over it, they'll just let it go and assume there was a good reason.

You latch onto him again as he focuses back on you. Grabbing your hands into his shirt, you hold him closer. "Don't let other girls touch you."  You whine, taking the aggression out of your voice when you talk with him, but not the seriousness.

"Why? Because I'm yours?" He looks down with a smug smile, and a salacious glimmer in his gaze. His tongue running over the inside of his cheek.

You're still so pent up and frustrated, you just want to be as close to him as you can be for comfort. You press your whole body flat to him, feeling warmed by the firm shape of his arms and chest. "Yes, you're mine."

He insists on a small amount of space between you two, gripping onto your upper arms harshly he pushes you back. His free hand comes up and his fingers cling into your jaw keeping you still.

This is it. You knew he was going to hurt you for disobeying. But honestly, it was worth it to keep her off of him.

Looking down at you so intensely, he isn't reacting the way you had expected. His eyes are instead filled with an infatuated allure that's making your stomach tingle and your cheeks feel warm. He rests his mouth next to your ear like he had earlier. "That was so fucking hot Kitten." His teeth nip at your ear lobe, making you shiver. "We're leaving. Just wait until I get you alone. I'm gonna prove I'm yours."   

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls Extra 1

- ao3 -

Lan Xichen spent a lot of time learning his family’s rules.

They were important to his uncle, who raised him, and that meant that they were important to him. They were his heritage and his birthright, and anyway he loved his uncle and it made him happy which was good enough for Lan Xichen, but that didn’t make learning them easy or anything. Each rule had to be learned both by itself and in context with others; it wasn’t as simple as memorizing a list and calling it done. You had to learn them and know them and then live up to them to the best of your ability, and that was the work of a lifetime – which Lan Xichen, now six years old, had been informed was an awful long time.

Moreover, though his uncle had never said so, Lan Xichen had heard from the other people in the sect that learning the rules was important because following the rules would make sure he didn’t turn out like his father, who had let down so many people in their sect. Many of the elders said things like that when his uncle wasn’t around, though his uncle never did – his uncle spoke well of their father, although in abstract tones, but sometimes he looked sad about it, too, and therefore Lan Xichen was determined to listen and learn the rules well so that he would never disappoint his uncle the way his father had.

Of course, there were other advantages to learning the rules.

The commentary, for instance.

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

1

Talking behind other people's backs is prohibited.

“Unless it’s really funny,” Lan Yueheng said, and – as always – seemed not to notice the way Lan Xichen’s uncle glared at him. “Oooh, actually, let me give you an example, I just heard the best story –”

-

“If you don’t understand those around you, you will be at their mercy, rather than they at yours,” Wen Ruohan said, perfectly poised and with a sharp smirk, just the way he always was unless he happened to be talking to Lan Xichen’s uncle. “How better to learn to understand people than to know what others say about them when they are not around?” His smirk widened. “Look at what people say about me.”

-

“What are you supposed to do if you don’t?” Lao Nie asked, grinning wickedly. “Say mean things about them in front of their faces instead? I can do that!”

-

“I mean, if it’s news, it’s not gossip, right?” Cangse Sanren said, tapping her cheek while pretending to be thoughtful as if it would hide her great big smile. “I’m sure that’s how I learned it, and I was a very good student – no, no, don’t listen to what your uncle says!”

-

“Well, I wish my mother would do less of it,” Wen Xu said, rolling his eyes. He’d come along to visit with his father again the way he always did – he was always tagging along with his father, really, and his father indulged him more often than he probably should, according to both sects’ elders. Not that Wen Ruohan listened to anyone but Lan Xichen’s uncle. “Sometimes I think that’s all she does! It’s boring!”

-

“If you mean what you say and say what you mean, then your friends will never doubt you whether you are in front of them or not,” Nie Mingjue said, then frowned. “I mean, I think?”

-

“Listen to A-Jue,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said when Lan Xichen reported on the discussions, throwing up his hands in disgust. “He’s the only one of the lot of them worth anything.”

“It’s his mother’s contribution,” Lao Nie opined.

“It’s certainly not yours,” Wen Ruohan said. “Anyway, what was wrong with A-Xu’s answer? It was accurate.”

“It has nothing to do with the rule!”

“That’s because I’ve already mastered it years ago,” Wen Xu said cheerfully. Surprisingly cheerfully, given that Nie Mingjue was sitting on him again; maybe he’d gotten used to Nie Mingjue always winning.

Lan Xichen’s uncle rubbed his forehead. “A-Xu, if you really want to go copy the rules on humility a few more times, you don’t have to wait for me to instruct you to do so –”

“He’s right, though,” Cangse Sanren cackled from her husband’s lap. “Madame Wen is an amazing source of gossip, but it does get a bit boring sometimes. You can’t punish him for being right!”

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

2

Do not succumb to rage.

“Unless there’s a very good reason,” Lao Nie said, picking Lan Xichen up in one arm as if he weighed as little as a feather, and Nie Mingjue in the other just as easily, even though he was much bigger. “In the world there are many injustices, and it is your duty to fight against them with everything that you have – if you are wholly above the feeling of rage, then you have forgotten your empathy, and soon will follow the crooked path into indifference.”

-

“The issue is succumbing to rage,” Wen Ruohan said. “You can be angry, or even furious, but you should always maintain your self-control. Once you’ve mastered yourself, you can master others.”

-

“He means get revenge,” Wen Xu said knowledgably. “You get angry, then you get even.”

-

“Oh, rage?” Cangse Sanren asked, rolling up her sleeves. “Well, as it happens, I’m going to go have a chat with your mother, I’ll give you a good demonstration of –”

“You are doing no such thing,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said, exasperated. “Get back here.”

-

“It’s a waste of time,” Lan Yueheng said. “Getting angry takes time and energy. Why not be happy instead?” He thought about it. “Well, I mean, sometimes cursing a little bit when something goes wrong is nice. Even the calmest concoction needs to blow off steam sometimes to retain its equilibrium!”

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

3

Do not disrespect your elders.

“And I,” Wen Ruohan said, looking positively gleeful, “am the eldest.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said at once. “Xichen, you hear me? Don’t listen to him.”

-

“There’s a difference between disrespect and disobedience,” Cangse Sanren said. “Being old doesn’t mean being right, it means that there’s a greater probability that they’ve encountered something in their lifetime that will give them an insight you lack. You should honor and respect their insight, but always make your own decisions in the end.”

-

“I mean, you could always listen to me, instead,” Lao Nie said. “I’m your elder too, aren’t I?”

-

“Don’t listen to either Uncle Wen or my father,” Nie Mingjue said, looking long-suffering. “They both like to play tricks.”

-

“Wait,” Lan Yueheng said. “I’m an elder? Since when? That’s a terrible idea!”

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

4

Do not take advantage of your position to oppress others.

“Don’t listen to Wen Ruohan,” Cangse Sanren said.

-

“Don’t listen to Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Yueheng said.

-

“Definitely do not listen to Hanhan,” Lao Nie said. “At all. In any way.”

-

“Probably best not to listen to A-Xu’s dad,” Nie Mingjue said, and glanced over apologetically.

“No, no, you’re right,” Wen Xu said, nodding furiously. “He’s kind of awful about these sorts of things.”

-

“They’re all being absolutely ridiculous,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’m perfectly reliable on such matters. After all, what’s the point of working so hard to obtain and maintain power if you don’t oppress those that deserve it? If you don’t take advantage, who will?”

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

5

Do not make assumptions about others.

“I used to assume that Cangse Sanren was  a normal human being,” Lan Yueheng said. “Goes to show what I know, right?”

-

“I used to assume that Wen Ruohan was a perfectly normal self-absorbed murderer that would keep his greedy hands to his own people,” Cangse Sanren said, sounding irritable. “And not have perfectly ordinary rogue cultivators followed around by complete weirdos because he’s secretly worried about them like a mother hen!”

-

“I used to assume that people would be grateful when someone rescued them and their husband from near certain death,” Wen Ruohan said.

-

“I used to assume that the funniest thing in the world was watching Hanhan argue with your uncle,” Lao Nie said, chin on his hands. “Little did I know that adding Cangse Sanren to the mix made it even funnier.”

-

“Grown-ups are stupid sometimes,” Wen Xu said. “That’s why you have to verify everything they say for yourself.”

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

6

Embrace the entirety of the world.

“By being righteous,” Nie Mingjue said.

-

“By taking it all over, as far as I can tell from my father,” Wen Xu said.

-

“Depends on what you define as the world, doesn’t it?” Lao Nie said.

-

“Be ambitious,” Wen Ruohan said. “Define it broadly.”

-

“I mean, I don’t think your arms are quite long enough yet, the world’s pretty big,” Lan Yueheng said. “But I pick you up and swing you around, maybe they’ll stretch a little. Want to try?”

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

7

Do not associate with evil.

“I mean, it’s true, but you have to think carefully about what you categorize as evil,” Lao Nie said. “Just being a man-eating nation-destroying inhuman amoral nine-tailed fox isn’t automatically enough to qualify, right?”

-

“That’s, uh, a really weirdly specific example,” Lan Yueheng said. “I feel like at least three of the things on that list probably rise to the level of evil? Or have I missed something?”

-

“Lao Nie said – oh no, not again,” Wen Ruohan said, and patted Lan Xichen on the head before he stalked out the door. “I’m the only evil you should associate with, you hear me?”

-

“I bet she’s got teeth in interesting places,” Cangse Sanren said. “I’ve got to meet her…hmm? Evil? Does that really matter? It’s going to be funny.”

-

“She’s not evil,” Nie Mingjue said. “She’s pretty nice, actually. She calls me ‘meatball’ and ‘pork bun’ and says I’m so cute that she wants to eat me right up.”

-

“I’m pretty sure she means it literally,” Wen Xu said. “Gear up, Xichen! We’ve got to go save Mingjue!”

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

8

Do not tell lies.

“People don’t believe the truth, so why not tell it?” Cangse Sanren said.

-

“Using the truth makes your misdirections more believable and your critiques more devastating,” Wen Ruohan said.

-

“Why would you even want to lie?” Nie Mingjue asked, puzzled.

-

“There’s a difference between not telling lies and not having the slightest bit of tact,” Lao Nie said, rubbing his face. “Maybe you can help A-Jue figure that out.”

-

“Silence is always a good alternative when you don’t want to admit to stuff you’ve done that maybe, just maybe, might annoy some people,” Lan Yueheng said, looking over his collapsed laboratory with a wince. “Not that I’d know anything about that, of course.”

-

“Telling a lie will only get you into more trouble later when they figure it out,” Wen Xu said. “Because then they’re angry at you for what you did and for lying about it. It’s just not worth it!”

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

9

Do not disregard the rules.

“Unless they’re really stupid,” Lao Nie said.

-

“I mean,” Nie Mingjue said, wrinkling his nose. “As a general rule, yes. But it’s different if following the rules would permit injustice to happen, that’s for sure.”

-

“It’s a matter of picking what rule is the relevant one,” Wen Ruohan said. “Be thoughtful, and you can have the moral high ground in any situation…your uncle is irritatingly good at that.”

-

“You’ve got to know what the rule is before you break it,” Wen Xu said. “That way you can decide if it’s worth the cost of breaking it or not.”

-

“If there’s any you think are wrong, you should say something,” Lan Yueheng said. “The rules are a gift handed down from our ancestors and ought to be respected, but each of us has a duty to put in our own thoughts as well – our contribution to the next generation down. Anyway, your uncle will probably be able to put together a reasonable argument as to why changing the rule is appropriate and truer to our sect’s principles than the version carved on the wall. He’s good at that!”

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

10

“I want the rules to be a foundation under your feet,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “They should give you confidence in your actions and pride in your family and sect; they should not feel like they are binding you. If they are, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Maybe if it was just Lan Xichen and his uncle, the two of them and maybe also little baby Lan Wangji and the rather unreliable Lan Yueheng and the even more unreliable Lao Nie, Lan Xichen would immediately and unhesitatingly agree, and then never say anything anyway no matter what he felt. He loved his uncle so much, and every one in a while his uncle seemed so sad; he couldn’t bear to be the one to add more pain and burden to his uncle’s shoulders, already weighed down with the expectations of the sect that should have been his father’s responsibility and would one day be Lan Xichen’s.

But it wasn’t just them, and Lan Xichen frowned a little, really thinking about it. “Maybe,” he said after a while. “Or maybe I’d tell Uncle Wen about it, and then he’d find a way to fix it, or to tell you about it in a way that didn’t make you sad. Does that work, too?”

His uncle looked amused.

“Yes,” he said. “That works. Just remember –”

“Don’t listen to him about ‘oppressing others’?”

“Exactly.”

[itgirlification]

supermodel (2) | jjk

your story with jungkook never seems to end, yet you’re still worried about how it’s gonna end.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: TOXIC (i cannot stress this enough shit is hella toxic), yn is kinda (very) dumb, jungkook is an actual asshole, borderline mental abuse, infidelity, more insecuritiiiies, mentions/hints of sex, etc.

part one part three

There you were in his arms again, with only your panties and his shirt on.

At this point, you couldn’t even explain yourself. You were guilty, but you know what they say; love hurts.

With his arms wrapped around you and you clinging to him like that, you couldn’t care less about what was gonna happen next. You knew you were probably gonna have a mental breakdown when you go back to the dorms but for now, you were okay.

After he came over that night, he contacted you again. He said he didn’t want this to be serious, he wanted it to be a solely sexual relationship.

“You know, you’re the first girl I’ve been with, who seems to like getting hurt and degraded”, he sighs against your hair. “Sometimes I feel like you can’t get enough of it.”

You stayed silent. What were you supposed to do anyway? Tell him he’s right and stay like this for a while or react defensively and start an endless argument? You chose the first one.

“You’re the only woman that’d let me do all this stuff and still love me. Maybe that’s why I came back to you.”

Holding back the tears, you cling closer to his larger body, as if you were using him as some kind of shield. He thought you were an easy target and forgiving. What else would a man want from a woman he was only interested in fucking, a side piece? Even if she’s in love with him, she was gonna ignore that just to spend as much time with him as possible.

“It’s not like you actually came back.”, you responded, keeping your voice as stable as you could. “We’re just fucking.”

Jungkook sighed deeply, most likely noticing your petty undertone. “Don’t be like that. We aren’t fucking right now.”

You weren’t sure what point exactly he was trying to prove, you agreed to be his side chick. Did he think you didn’t know what a side chick was supposed to do? Because you did know, you just secretly thought you guys were meant to be, you weren’t just some side piece.

Looking around the motel room, your stomach began feeling weird. He wasn’t usually cheap, but you guessed he thought a side chick didn’t deserve a better environment than a cheap motel room rent for a night.

“Because we literally just did.”, you calmly said. You weren’t trying to piss him off.

But Jungkook wasn’t having it. Out of nowhere, he shoved you aside and put his hands over his face, noticeably frustrated.

“What happened?”, you weren't sure if asking that was the best option.

Jungkook turns his body to you. “What happened?? You keep on fucking me up and being a bitch about all this and you ask me what happened?”

He was so furious, his eyes were dark and his face was screwed up. You were now both standing, his tall figure towering over yours.

You saw his hand forming a fist and it would’ve been a lie if you said you weren’t terrified. He hasn’t touched you once throughout your relationship, but you never know.

“I didn’t even say anything. Maybe you’re just a little too sensitive.”, you were pouring salt on a wound at this point, but you didn’t want to be weak and let him talk to you like that.

“Me, sensitive?”, his tone was dangerously serene, as he leaned closer to your face. “If I wasn’t here with you, you'd probably still be crying over me. And you know where I’d be? Laying in bed with the beautiful model I have the privilege to call my girlfriend. Yn, I don’t need you. Don’t get bold with me, ‘cause we both know who’s gonna be heartbroken in the end.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, what did you get yourself into again? This wasn’t Jungkook’s fault, this wasn’t anybody’s fault but yours. You should’ve never opened up, you should’ve never said yes to being his side piece, you should’ve never been his girlfriend, to begin with. You stayed silent, but your loud sniffs and your uneven breathing said more than you could at the moment.

“I’m leaving.”, he announced coldly before throwing his black leather jacket over his broad shoulders, leaving you half-naked, crying on the poor-quality motel bed you just had sex on. When he got out of the motel room, you looked outside of the small window, watching him leave in the car he drove you here with.

Now, you had no other option than to call Jane to pick you up since your dorm was a half an hour walk away from the motel and you didn’t have the energy to walk for even a minute.

You weren’t sure if you had the energy for all the questions Jane was gonna ask you when she sees your mascara smeared face and your messy hair. Not to mention the motel. You weren’t a motel type of girl and she knew that.

Still, you called her and she answered almost immediately. “Yn? What happened? I thought you were gonna sleepover at your parents’?”

Sleepover at your parents’ house? You had almost forgotten the bad lie you told Jane just to have sex with Jungkook in this cheap-ass motel. And to think you were convinced you two were gonna stay the whole night.

“Uh”, you quickly coughed to cover up the voice cracks you got from crying. “Yeah, it’s a long story, please pick me up. I’ll text you the address.”

About 10 minutes later, Jane arrived and looked at you like you were out of your mind when you got into the car. “Yn, what the fuck? I was so worried about you. And this isn’t your parents’ house, this is a fucking motel. Did you meet a guy? Did he do something to you? Should I call the cops?”

“No, no, no, oh my god, please don’t”, you knew she was gonna ask a lot of questions. “I lied to you. So what actually happened was me and Jungkook reconnected an-“

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it was Jungkook. So I’m guessing he left you here?”

You hesitantly nodded.

“So when were you gonna tell me you ‘reconnected’ with him? When did you even ‘reconnect’ with him?”, she mockingly asked you. You weren’t blaming her for being pissed off, you’d have been too in this situation.

“A month ago? I think..”, you muttered.

“Hm”, Jane nodded, sighing at your naivety. “And when did he even break up with his model chick?”

You awkwardly looked away and Jane was hoping it wasn’t because of what she thought.

“He didn’t break up with her??”, Jane was beyond frustrated. “So.. you’re like his side chick now? Are we gonna stoop that low for men, yn?”

Jane always wanted the best for you and you knew she knew what was the best for you too, you were just too foolish. And too in love with a man you can’t force into loving you again.

“I know but please can we not talk about this right now? I just don’t feel like it.”, you asked, looking down on your fingers, ashamed of yourself.

“Alright, I’m sorry, babe.”, Jane hugged your side quickly, before starting the engine and heading back to the dorm. “You know I just want what’s best for you.”

You nodded, looking out of the window with your head full.

_

“Bella just texted me and said her birthday party will be 90s themed? Can’t she be a little more specific?”, Jane barged into the room, looking down on her phone in disbelief.

Bella was a person you two met at college in one of your shared classes. She was a sweetheart, but she was a little spoiled too. The only reason why she got into the college was that her rich daddy bribed them, but you couldn’t be mad, your parents would’ve done the same if they had the money.

She was extremely extroverted, a people person. She probably never had a boring day in her life with all the parties she threw whenever her dad and his 20 something-year-old girlfriend were on vacation or business trips. She even had some celebrity friends and would just casually post selfies with them on her Instagram story like it was a normal thing to do. She was basically living the dream, clueless about what real life for others really was about.

Jane had a love-hate relationship with Bella ever since they met. She thought Bella was a nice girl, but it was ‘unbearable’ to have a conversation with her because she was too self-centered to talk about anything else than herself.

You shrugged. “Just wear something Aaliyah would’ve worn.”

“Hm. Fair enough. It’s really not all that deep, actually.”, She said. “So what are you gonna wear?”

“I don’t even know if I’m going, Bella’s parties are boring.”, you answered honestly.

You really weren’t sure if you’d go. You did feel like seeing people and having a little fun but it wasn’t like you ever had fun at any of Bella’s parties. One time, a guy puked all over a new dress you bought just for the party, and another time, you were forced to drink 4 beer bottles. You hated beer.

“Why not? It’s gonna be fun and you’re coming.”, she decided for you, making you playfully roll your eyes. “And wear that black latex dress, I haven’t seen it on you in forever.”

To say that Jane was a fashionista would be an understatement. She was too invested in fashion to be bothered with anything else.

“Alright, but only if we don’t stay for long.”, you tried to compromise with her.

She nodded. “We gotta buy her presents though. Is there even anything she doesn’t have?”

You sighed, annoyed. “C’mon, there’s gonna be at least 200 people at that party, it’s not like she’ll notice if we just don’t get her anything. Besides, she’s rich as fuck.”

Jane snickered at your comment. “Girl, you must not know her, she checks every damn person and probably throws them out if they don’t buy her a Chanel bag or something. Bitch is a little crazy.”

It was amusing because you both knew that was exaggerated. Bella wasn't that serious about gifts. But let’s just say, for the money that her dad had, she was a little too greedy.

But you were too bothered with your own life than to worry about other's.

_

As soon as you arrived at Bella’s mansion, two security guards were standing in front of the door. They let you in as you showed them your invitations. It was a little bit extra, but that’s just how Bella was.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the house was the smell of sweat and weed. Already? You weren’t really surprised though.

Bella was standing there, wearing a skintight red dress that, ironically, didn’t really fit her own party’s theme. But she did look absolutely beautiful greeting her guests with the biggest smile on her glowing face. She had her strawberry blonde hair down in elegant beach curls and there were some cute butterfly clips placed in them.

You could recognize that it was her birthday from miles away. She was basically shining.

“Oh my god, Jane, Yn!! I’m so happy to see you guys!”, an overly keen Bella came, hugging you both with strength. “Oh, I see you got me something, girls you know you shouldn’t have!”

She tried hiding her smile at the bags in your hands, freeing the two of you from them immediately.

“It’s your birthday, Bella. We can’t just come here without any gifts, girl.”, Jane smiled. “Happy birthday.”

You looked to your side, admiring Jane’s acting skills. “Happy birthday, Bella! I can’t believe you’re 23 now.”

“I know right, if you were a year younger, you’d be as old as your dad’s girlfriend.”, Jane joked around, making Bella hysterically laugh.

“C’mon, almost everybody’s here already”, Bella excitedly pushed you towards the living room.

The room’s stench was even more unbearable than the one at the entrance, leaving you covering your nose for a second leaving out an ‘oof’.

The 90s trap music was heard extremely loudly through the whole house and there were people dancing and grinding. There were some couples that sat on one of the many couches, acting like they were in their own little world. It wasn’t very pleasant to watch, but you just chose to ignore it. The stench was something you couldn’t ignore though.

You were already bored out of your mind.

A few minutes of pure boredom and dry conversations passed then the music stopped playing and you could hear Bella’s voice calling for everybody’s attention. “I’m gonna open the presents now, so everybody come here and Daphne, please bring the gifts here so I can open them.”

Daphne was Bella’s personal maid. She never really talked, but she did everything she needed to. She brought all the bags to Bella one by one and you could’ve sworn she was trying not to cry out of happiness.

“Oh my god, Jackson”, She cried out as she pulled a pair of Saint Laurent shoes out of a box. “These are so beautiful. You even got the right size. Thank you so mu-“

“Bella, I’m so sorry we’re late, we had to run some errands”, a soft-spoken voice interrupted, making everybody in the room turn her way, just to see the charming model with none other than Jeon Jungkook by her side. Wow.

As soon as you turned your head to see who it was, you turned back around, looking at Jane to make sure she saw what you saw. You sent her a questioning, almost panicking look just for her to shrug.

“Yuki! It’s fine, girl. Come here, I’m opening my presents right now.”, The birthday girl exclaimed, making Yuki immediately hand her her gift.

Jungkook was just walking behind his girlfriend, making no type of noise whatsoever and you prayed he wouldn’t see you.

They sat down at an angle where you couldn’t help but look at them though and you were sure he looked at you for a split second as well. They looked beautiful together.

Bella just continued opening gifts and thanking everybody dearly, but you weren’t paying attention to that. You just zoned out for most of it. Those were a lot of gifts she got.

You couldn’t help but steal another glance at your ex-boyfriend and the girl besides him.

She looked even cuter in real life. Her cheeks had a natural blush to them and her hair was long and healthy. She was thin and her skin tone was warm and even.

You’ve always been insecure about your hyperpigmentation, but she didn’t seem to have any problems with how she looked. She was near damn perfect. Perfect wasn’t real, but if it was, it’d be her.

Jungkook probably never had a problem introducing her to his parents or his friends. You always felt like he had difficulties with that while he was dating you. He just wasn’t confrontational enough to tell you he was ashamed to have you as his girlfriend.

You seemed to be stuck in your place while everybody else was either dancing or making conversation.

Jane was sitting next to you, talking to a girl with blond box braids about a new movie that recently came out. You heard what they were saying, but it sounded like a foreign language to you since you weren’t focused.

“Yn? Are you okay?”, Jane whispered in your ear, hugging your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were invited.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jane. It’s not your fault, I just kind of wanna go home.”

She looked at you apologetically. “Can’t we stay for a little while? I promise it won’t take long, I’m just actually having fun here.”

You had to admit you were being selfish, not just in that moment, but whenever it came to Jungkook. You’ve dragged Jane through all of your shit and never really thought about how she must feel like.

Nodding in response to her. “I’m gonna get myself something to drink.”

You finally stood up from your place, looking around unsure, feeling like you���re taking up so much space wherever you go, even when you were doing absolutely nothing.

You wore the latex dress, but only because Jane insisted and made sure you knew you looked good. She convinced you for maybe a second, but all those insecurities were coming back. You tried sucking in your stomach the whole night, but it just wasn’t enough.

You were asking yourself all kinds of questions. If your arms looked too fat and if your cellulite was visible, if your hip-dips were as noticeable to others as they were to you. You felt like everybody was looking and they were judging really hard.

All you wanted was to fade into oblivion.

You were feeling his eyes on your back and god, you wanted to look too but you fought the urge, just continued walking to the bathroom. You weren’t in the mood to drink after all.

Your gut feeling was telling you he was following, but you ignored it.

Until you were about to close the bathroom door and you saw black timberlands stepping between the door and the doorframe to stop you from closing it.

You sighed, opening the door, resulting in him getting in the bathroom with you.

“Why are you avoiding me?”, the handsome man facing you asked, brown eyes looking deep inside of yours.

“How can I avoid you when you didn’t even try talking to me?”, you asked back, looking away immediately.

You hated how your relationship was just a cycle of him hurting you and coming back, acting like he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he was so good at it too.

He chuckled darkly, letting his eyes glide down your body for a second just to look back into your eyes. “You know exactly what I mean, yn. Don’t play dumb.”

You did know what he meant.

“And? It’s not like I have anything to say to you.”

Jungkook came closer to you, softly wrapping one arm around your waist, whispering in your ear. “You don’t?”

You couldn’t believe how shameless he was, being so close to you while his girlfriend was a few meters away, outside of this door, probably thinking he’s getting her a drink or something. You wondered if he did the same thing to you when you were dating.

“Jungkook, stop. Your girlfriend is here.”, you tried to convince yourself you didn’t want it. “How can you even do this?”

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before, princess.”, He kissed your earlobe. “You can’t possibly think it’s okay when she’s not around, but not okay when she is. It’s the same thing.”

You knew he was right, besides, you were just as guilty as he was. You were messing around with a taken guy and the worst part was, you knew he was taken and you still did it.

“I know, but I wanna end whatever this is”, you hesitated to say. “It’s unhealthy and you already have a girlfriend, why don’t you go and kiss her, why me?”

You were avoiding this conversation ever since this started. Sometimes it’s hard talking about things you don’t actually want to hear about.

“What do you mean?”, Jungkook feigned confusion, but you knew better than to believe him. “It’s easier said than done, yn. We have a history together, you know that.”

“I do, but that’s all we are. History. And we should both get over it.”, you responded.

“But what if I don’t want to?”, it was more of a statement than a question, really. “What if I told you, you’re special to me?”

You were gonna have a meltdown if he continued with this. Why was he so fucking complicated? You knew he didn’t love you so what was it?

“But I’m not. The only reason why you come back is because you think I’m easy material. It’s because you were my first everything and it’s because you know exactly how much you mean to me.”, you cry out, tears coming up to ruin your makeup again. You wished you wouldn’t cry as much as you did. “You know I’ll always let you in, no matter what. I know I’m at fault too here and I’m not blaming you, but please for god’s sake, don’t make it worse on me.”

You looked in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. You felt detached from reality, but not in a good way at all.

Jungkook scoffed, looking down at you. “I know I shouldn’t have tried talking to you. It’s like you can’t even appreciate anybody showing you affection. I’m trying to prove to you, that you aren’t nothing to me and that’s the response that I get. Not everybody’s against you, yn, you’re just too insecure to notice. That’s why you haven’t ever had anybody showing you interest. It’s because you lack confidence and think the world revolves around you. But I did show you interest. In the past and now. But look at you. You haven’t changed at all, still the little yn who compares herself to other girls and thrives off of male attention, because you can’t believe that somebody could love you just for you when there’s skinnier, prettier girls walking around. So what if there are skinnier, prettier girls around? That’s reality, yn.”

You didn’t know what exactly you expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. Looking at him with big, teary eyes, is that really what he thought of you? Of course, it was. Because it was the truth. The cold, hard truth. Not sugarcoated. He knew you better than you wanted him to.

Without a single word leaving your dry lips, you open the door and run out, ignoring him calling your name and the weird stares people were giving you. You needed to find Jane.

Once you found her joking around with a bunch of random people, you go up to her. You most likely looked like you came out of a horror movie.

“Yn? What the fuck happened?”, she lightly took your face in her warm hands and caressed your cheek worriedly.

“Pl- please, can we just go home?”, you whimpered, thankful that everybody was respectful enough to turn around and focus on their stuff instead of ogling at you.

“Sure, sure. Come here”, she took you in her arms and walked you out of the mansion, not caring to say goodbye to anybody.

_

people who wanted to get tagged in pt. 2:

@1-in-abillion @sarcasmflowsinmyveins @chieftoadturkeynickel @madygswich @kb-bangtanenthusiast

thank you for the support love yall!! 💗

a/n: so i know most of yall probably wanted a happy ending but first of all this probably isn’t the ending:) and i wanted to portray it as realistically as possible. It’s really hard to get out of a toxic relationship especially when you’re so in love with them but i’ll see what i can do to make yn happy cuz girly’s going thru it. Btw this wasn’t proofread so there’s probably so many mistakes and i thought this was very underwhelming but i hope you guys like it thank you!

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 3: Counteroffer

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements Continue; Dub-Con; Angst; Politics; Possessive/Manipulative Behavior; Spanking; Choking; Crying; The Dove is Probably Dead: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The return of an old friend brings back the ghosts of old memories.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2

Notes: Shorter chapters my ass, these outlines are getting unreal. Andy Barber has arrived, Steve Rogers does not approve, the Reader bears the consequences. Things are going to be angstier from here on out and I can feel it in my bones. Please don’t yell at me — or do, your feedback is well-loved and appreciated even if it’s yelly.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

You met Andy Barber fresh from the ashes of his divorce, escaping the gossip and scandal and pain of his past life only to dive into the gossip and scandal and pain of politics. Senatorial campaign, in need of an aide and a law student desperate to do more for the people than hours in clinics and mock trials. Hungry for something grassroots, angling for the impossible.

A match. Whether made in Heaven or Hell feels irrelevant now, long ago as it was.

It was then. This… is now.

Hey Sunshine, didn’t think you’d be able to make it.

He looks the same. Keeps the same beard. Same hair. It’s uncanny and familiar and safe all at once and you slide into the booth with your purse by your side and feel genuinely smiley for the first time in a long time.

It’s been a while since I heard that name.

Yeah? It’s been a while since I got to use it.

The silence is heavy, unwelcome, unwieldy, a reminder of the space between what was and what is.

How’re you doing? Last I heard you were making a name for yourself taking down the…

He trails off, eyes fixed on the slide of your gaze, the sudden interest in a drink menu you wouldn’t normally touch, the tremor of your lips. A man doesn’t serve as Assistant District Attorney for the many years he has without picking up tells.

Sunshine.

Andy…

It’s a warning, a plea, a… confession, all at once, and all the dogged determination in the world can’t hold against the break in your voice, in your control. You’ve cried more in the past few weeks than you can recall and now here he is, soulful eyes and a worried expression and he’s never hugged you really, but suddenly you might want it just that much more.

Don’t be an idiot.

It’s dangerous, your stress, and you know it.

Dangerous enough to send you into the arms of the next safe thing — this is why you don’t do this, isn’t it, this reaching out bit, but no advocacy group on the planet is going to save you from yourself today.

I saw… I saw you win that case. Pretty brutal, standing up to the Syndicate, and getting what you did. He steamrolls past the way you wince, his thumb on that metaphorical bruise and pressing, the Prosecutor’s dogged determination demanding answers, I have a friend in the office, he was convinced you’d be climbing the ranks.

Every word is a twist of the knife, couched in quiet concern, gentle admonition, a warm hug in a smoky tenor and you want to tell him everything, you want to break down in his arms and tell him every word, every buried piece of you he never learned, everything that’s led you to this.

You don’t.

You know better than to trust him too. No one’s going to take care of you but you so instead you shake your head and wave it off and Decided going into the private sector was the better option — one big win doesn’t really make up for the stress, you know.

Private sector. That’s what you’re calling the SHIELD Syndicate now? C’mon, Sunshine…

Look. It’s the Syndicate’s New York, when he made the offer it was… safer than saying no. It’s a cushy position anyway, and I didn’t want anyth—

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you and you’re digging a hole trying to explain your way out of it so you just… shut up, shaking your head, It’s not important. I’m fine. I’m more curious about you — what year is it now, your fourth? What are you doing in New York?

The deflection works, but the look on his face is obvious — you’re not getting out of this so easily. He gives in for now, just for now, for you.

Almost fifth, gearing up for re-election. Had a meeting up here… about the organized crime situation for both states, and I remembered you were in the area.

Oh. You… it’s been a while since we talked, you remembered?

You expect me to forget you, Sunshine?

That stops you in your tracks, or whatever road your mind had been racing on, thoroughly not enjoying the defensive you’ve been on since you met with Steve, constantly under watch and waiting for yet one more shoe to fall on you.

That’s fear, sweetness.

Andy…?

You were the best campaign aide I had — I told you then too, I would have made you Chief of Staff if you’d let me.

It’s a good save. A clever save, and you want to believe it more than anything, want to believe it was all business and no pleasure because the alternative makes your nails bite into the table and want to turn tail before he can say another word and he… sees that panic flicker over your face so keenly it’s almost embarrassing.

You’re not used to this.

You’re not used to the warmth of his eyes when he searches your face for the answers you can’t give voice to. You’re not used to the way he reaches for your hand and rests it over your fingers, curling around your palm like he might actually keep you close and keep you safe and keep you free of the demons you made a part of yourself too.

Sunshine, why does his voice have to be so soft, why does it have to sound like molten honey on your senses, why does he have to say your name like it’s the very definition of the word hope, If you’re not safe…

No. No you’re not, tell him tell him the truth, tell him you’re atoning for the girl you could not protect tell him you aren’t worth it tell him this is your penance tell him you signed a death warrant tell him tell him tell him.

Andy, really. I’m fine. It’s a good job.

It’s a shit lie.

He drops it. Drops it just long enough for a waiter to finally come by, for his hand to leave yours while he talks through the wine menu. Drops it long enough for you to check your phone, realizing with horror that you must have silenced it absentmindedly sometime on your way here.

Ten missed calls.

All from Steve.

And one text, stamped from just five minutes ago.

[SMS] Either you pick up your phone or I pick you up, Counsel.

The next one comes right before your eyes, a picture of a map and a GPS pin. Your location.

You glance up at Andy, still talking to the waiter about the small plates options, feign a smile and Go ahead and choose, you have better taste than me, and return to staring at the picture and the three dots at the bottom of your screen, waiting to see his next message.

[SMS] Make your choice.

The haptic feedback of your keyboard feels like an electric shock with every letter, hurried fingers until you manage to tap out something that won’t immediately put the man in front of you in the crosshairs of the most dangerous organization in New York.

You can’t do that to him. You can’t.

[SMS] I’m at a dinner with a friend.

[SMS] And since I know there’s no emergencies pressing, I’d like my time, thank you.

You have the good sense to set it next to you this time, watching your screen light up with whatever furious response he sends next, glancing over only occasionally every time another one comes through. Don’t let him control you. Don’t let him think you’re at his beck and call.

You’re not.

You’re free, you’re free and you’re going to prove it.

Sunshine? What’s going on?

His voice cuts through the haze of panic like a knife and you swear you don’t mean to jump but you do and there’s no denying what he notices, eyes narrow and lips turned down in a sharp scowl, Sunshine…?

You are not that girl. You cannot be that girl, never again.

Steel. Steel yourself, flash him a smile, take a sip of the ice water left in front of you while you’d been checking your phone, reset yourself. Steady. Steady on.

Don’t let them know.

Nothing, nothing, just the boss — let him know I was busy.

Why is he texting you after hours? The Syndicate can’t be that busy.

He’s too watchful for your own good. Probably just making sure I’m staying out of trouble.

Are you?

Are you calling yourself trouble, Senator?

You like this. You can handle this, the trading of jokes, the crooked way he smiles. His eyes are a little more distant than you remember but you can still see them sparkle softly when he suppresses a laugh, lighting up properly when the joy reflects in them.

Briefly, you wonder when the last time he really laughed was.

By the time dinner is over, his hand, warm and steady, is back on yours as you talk — and for a moment you almost enjoy the way he runs his thumb over your knuckles absently, like he’s making careful appraisal of each one. Could use your skills for the re-election campaign, you know.

Really? You’ve got a gorgeous approval rating, what are you afraid of?

Not having my good luck charm on the staff.

Andy…

I’m dead serious, Sunshine, you ran that ship. You were what, a 2L? Rising 3? You had canvassing down to a science. We need that energy down on the Hill.

The curve of his fingers is a little tighter now, squeezing yours, like proof of his earnestness and oh, you want to keep believing him. You need to keep believing him.

There’s so much in New York I have to get done first. And besides, you know me. I want a life on the bench.

Justice Sunshine, and it sounds absurd when he uses your nickname and it sounds so real when he uses your nickname and in the warm smoke of his voice those contradictions can live together all at once.

That’s the one. Closest you’ll see me to Washington is when I’m appointed to the Supreme Court. It’s a dumb, arrogant, silly joke but it’s the same one you used to make with him over drinks, teasing him about his political goals and making him promise to “go easy on you” at your eventual Senate confirmation hearing.

It’s the one that makes him crack that too-beautiful crooked smile while he takes a sip of his drink — hiding the curve of his lips behind the rim of a heavy glass.

Well. If you ever decide to ditch—

Ever decide to ditch what?

The world moves in slow motion: hearing the low growl from behind you; Andy Barber looking up and rising to his feet, his hand slipping from yours with just the ghost of his comfortable touch to assure you; Steve Rogers coming into view as you turn, flanked by the not-entirely-unfamiliar faces of two of his enforcers — it looked like Wilson and Banner had been selected this evening — and the sudden pressure of knowing you’ve done something terribly, terribly wrong.

You stood me up, Counsel. Steve’s voice is a threat, a half-drawl as you stand up and face him, Andy right behind you, Something wrong with taking my phone calls?

She was busy, the sound of Andy’s voice is a balm to your soul and fuel to Steve’s fire, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth and resists the temptation to throw the first punch — you can see the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist, can’t you? The slow curve, the watching, wondering if you’ll make the right choice now that someone has chosen to try to lead you astray.

And who the fuck are you? If he can’t get you to respond, he’ll get something from the man talking for you, eyes trained on him like he’s debating whether his own frustration will make this interloper turn to nothingness and return you to his arms where you rightfullybelong.

Do you? Rightfully belong?

Senator Andy Barber. The title practically knocks the wind out of Steve’s sails and you can see it — he may be the Captain here, King of New York, ruler of his domain but he’s not stupid enough to openly attack a man with connections beyond the Syndicate’s web of influence. It’s a comfort and it’s not, all at once.

The room is still, vibrating with tension, the two men staring daggers at one another and you caught in the middle. I worked on Senator Barber’s campaign when he first ran for election, you manage out in some vain hope it might explain and mollify, only to be thoroughly disappointed — and judging by the way Banner winces, only to dig your grave further.

We’re talking about this later, Counsel. You’re coming home.

And what gives you the right to give her orders? You really are going to have to look back at Andy and beg him to not make this worse. You really are going to have to let him see your face, see that you’re afraid, sweetness. He’s not going to let you go easy and this should not terrify you as much as it does.

Senator Barber. It’s fine. Something must have come up,turning to face his burning eyes, until his face softens like he’s seeing you for the first time. And is he? Is he seeing how you just need him to let it go, let you go, drop the protectiveness and step back?

He has to, because he does, nodding before he grabs his coat and glances to the host station. If you say so, Sunshine. Take care of yourself. He doesn’t press, not knowing when he’s beat but knowing when you don’t want him to. When you’re not safe.

And Steve Rogers offers you his hand to walk you out.

And just what the hell did you think you were doing!?

Oh, and you control my time off the clock now too?

He dragged you back home.

No. Not to your apartment, that sanctuary away from all this you’d been allowed to keep as part of the “deal.” His home, the bedroom where you signed yourself away, the space he unraveled you and left you tangled in your new life.

He dragged you back home, in the grim silence of the backseat of his car and you waited. Waited for the inevitable explosion, the one prefaced by Wilson’s nervous looks and Banner’s cautious stare.

This explosion, where he rounds in on you, where livid is still too tame a term.

Meeting with a Senator? Ignoring my calls? I told you, you were mine tonight.

And I told you I had plans.

After I told you that you were mine, Counsel.

Okay. That’s true, even if you’re loathe to admit it.

Plans adjust. Andy wanted to—

Oh, Andy now? I thought it was Senator Barber? You’re really familiar with him, aren’t you, Counsel?

Just what the fuck are you implying?

Maybe you need a reminder of who you belong to.

He loves to do this. Wrap his big hand around your throat, remind you just how easily he can impose his power onto you, watch your protests die behind your eyes when you realize how useless words are in the face of his violence.

The furious look in your eyes is something to behold, the way you embed your nails into his wrist to try and drag him off you, all soft snarls and indignant huffs, You fucking asshole…

You’re mine, Counsel, and don’t you forget it. You gave yourself to me, remember?

Like I… like I had much of a choice, breathy, furious, and clawing at him.

Doesn’t matter. You’re mine, and clearly I need to make sure you know it…

Steve—!

Captain, sweetness, Captain, and don’t you forget it.

There’s a moment, when anger becomes transcendental, when it turns into something cold and calculating and prepared, when a plan forms behind his eyes and you watch as he looks down at you, so full of fury and fear all at once and you watch as he leans in so close and you feel his hand slide until he has you by the back of the neck, until his thumb is the thing pressing under your chin to keep your eyes on him, until the heel of his hand is the thing keeping you from shouting at him further. Such a stubborn little bitch…

You can almost see the words forming in his mind, the ones his mouth won’t say, I could be so good to you, but he doesn’t say them, sliding his lips over yours instead and it is… soft. A capturing of your mouth with his, not caring that you protest, only insistent on leaving you breathless and hazy-eyed from each tug of his lips on yours and there stokes the warmth of more than your rage, a different fire rising in your core, unbidden and unwelcome but yours to own and his to play with.

He can sense it, practically feel it, that mad serum racing through his veins and making his nostrils flare as he pulls back and watches you, lets the scent of your perfume fill his senses like a drug he can’t get enough of and, I should hate you too, for this, whispered low and hushed and you barely catch it, don’t you? Barely, but enough, enough to remember it was said just before he pulls you down with him into the depths of his own lust.

And into his lap, it seems, as he drags you down, sitting on the bed with you draped over his lap, an effortless shift in his skillful hands. You can protest, and you do, even daring to try to pull away with a kick of your legs and an indignant, What the hell do you think you’re doing?But you know it’s all futile, useless as he places one heavy hand on your back and lets the other slide over the smooth chiffon of your blouse, tracing a line along your spine with careful, practiced ease.

Would have preferred this with a little more… circumstance, sweetness, but you need to learn a lesson now and drastic times call for drastic measures.

You can turn your head slightly, to look at him, that wild-eyed fury so sweet on your face and you are still a wild creature he needs to tame but he is patient and he can do this for as long as it takes.

But you’re a sight like this, draped over his lap in a pencil skirt and blouse, so put together and proper and now so prone to him, helpless under the appraisal of his hands and the way he takes no time in hiking your skirt up around your waist. Captain! Your protest is met with a low chuckle, especially as he lets his palm curve around the round swell of your ass, before leaving a light swat on the soft flesh, to draw a yelp from your furious mouth.

If that’s all it takes to get you shouting, sweetness, you’re going to hate what comes next, smug and cruel, as you try to hold yourself up enough to look at him, met with his smirk and the simmering fury still bubbling in his eyes. To say you’re in danger still is an understatement, no doubt, and you know it.

I won’t make you count this time, but piss me off again, sweetness, and we’ll just see how much you can take, you hear me?

Oh you loathe him, really and truly loathe him, hissing with anger and embarrassment, so close to twisting in his arms and clawing at him but remembering his size and just how much worse it could get — but then there lies the undercurrent.

The one you loathe too, more than you hated him, that warmth. Seeping into your core, a low heat kindled by the sly softness of his lips on yours and the sure tenor of his voice, low and soothing even as he promised damnation. The one that — just like now — leaves you flushed and writhing while he purrs threats to you, massaging the soft skin and sliding the lace of your panties down to remove all barriers to the sex he owns so surely.

You open your mouth to argue with him but as you do, you feel his hand lift from your flesh and then the resounding SMACK of palm on skin, turning words into nothing but a sharp cry of pain, surprise, and lust. The heat rises just as your body tenses, reacting to the sudden attack on your delicate form, cheeks flushed. Even as your eyes well with tears your sex strives to betray you and — Oh do you like that, sweetness? — damn him for noticing.

Let me go, Captain, the threat is shaky, your voice wavering with something like want and panic all at once, and all it does is draw another laugh as he soothes the stinging mark left on your cheek, gentle as a lover and four times as cruel.

Do you know what I think, sweetness? And another raise of his palm, to strike you once more, listening to the way that cry of pain and surprise turns into a soft, involuntary moan the moment he begins to soothe the ache, I think you need this. Always so uptight, trying to be the head bitch in charge, aren’t you? Just looking for someone to take over, take control, remind you where your place is.

His fingers slip further, more interested in exploring the soft slickness of your sex, listening to your protests die in your throat with every press of his fingers into your plush folds. That’s why I’m here, to keep you in my lap, all fucked and soft, sweetness. Don’t you worry, I’m going to take care of you. Even if I have to teach you just like this.

You should hate the way he talks, hates how he finds your center with effortless ease, like he’s known your body for years. Holding you down in his lap still as he draws mewling moans from you with every curl of his fingers, finding the proof of his accusations in the slick need coating your thighs, soaking his fingers, You’re making such a mess of me, sweetness. Are you going to be good?

Hiss at him. Snarl at him, buck your hips and twist in his arms, push him away. Do something more than what you are now, with red-rimmed eyes and tears staining your face, do more than listen to him talk, feel his cock pressing against you as you lay in his lap, I’m going to ask it one more time, sweetness. Are. You. Going. To. Be. Good?

He punctuates each word of his question with a harsh smackagainst your ass, leaving little time for you to do more than cry out, until the last spank draws something like a moan from your perfect lips and therein lies your surrender for tonight, that soft mewl of pleasure born of pain and he soothes you again with soft shushes and gentle touches, back to inspecting the renewed slickness of your cunt, back to enjoying that plump tightness wrapped around his fingers and back to trying to control the shift of his own hips and you can feel him, hard against you, needing you as much as he is compelling your body to need him.

Captain… a low, desperate sort of mewl, the squirm of your body less to escape and more to enticeand he notices. Notices the way your fingers try to cling to him, notices how you look so very sweet when you’re so very desperate and in some way this is your own game of control, a push and pull and the curl of his fingers is suddenly so much angrier, driving you to the precipice of the fall and you are tumbling, tumbling down into a darkness of want you may never recover from.

Say it again. Tell me you need me, sweetness, tell me you need me and I’ll give you everything, and there’s an edge to the way he says everything, like he might meanit, like he might give you the world if you just gave in and you hate him, sweetness, you hate him but you need the things you hate once in a while and you can’t keep bearing his fury on your body and so you sob out your surrender and whine—

I need you, Captain, please…

And that is enough.

Let him believe you.