#summer of whump day 24 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 4 days

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Chapter 24 ~ Getting out

Hidden Depths

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Also on ao3

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW’s: despite Carr having a knife again, she doesn’t really do much with it besides some threatening actions, and I don’t think that needs a tw, do you? No? Cool lol

WC: 3019

Taglist: @dont-touch-my-soup, @kixngiggles

AN: I need to get to a point where I start writing again instead of spending all week editing the chapter I'm about to post so uh, yeah, I'm practicing that on this one XD

Resh

It was the first time he’d been outside in days, and he couldn’t have cared less.

His fever had broken sometime during the night, to the relief of his captors, who may or may not be keeping him alive to use him for his magic. He still halfway expected the prince to show up and drag him back to the torture chamber. He couldn’t keep anything straight in his mind.

The summer sun’s heat beating down on his head and bare shoulders felt real enough, as did the weakness in his legs, which barely supported him. Without Lox under his arm, they wouldn’t have supported him at all. Rowan followed as he was all but dragged out of the cabin, clucking at Lox like a mother hen until the man snarled at them.

Resh blinked against the brightness of the day, wondering why they even bothered. Half-lidded eyes scanned the encampment, not really taking anything in as he allowed himself to be maneuvered about. He didn’t pay attention to whatever Lox was trying to explain to him; why should he care? He wouldn’t have left his bed if it hadn’t been more effort to stay than to leave it.

But his gaze focused when a head of reddish-blond hair popped up, the contrast vivid against the stark white of the linens hanging on the line behind them. Lox caught the movement too, but when the woman turned and began adjusting one of the sheets, he turned back to respond to a question Rowan had just asked.

Resh couldn’t look away, though. The dress was wrong, but the profile, that choppy hair, the way she stood, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye… could it be…

It couldn’t be. Carr was dead. His vision wavered through tears he refused to blink away. He couldn’t break his line of sight or her spirit would disappear, just as it had however many days ago it had been now.

The spirit met his eyes then, and he had to blink because he couldn’t see and he had to see but then she’d be gone…

His eyes twitched, shuttering his gaze for a split second. His heart plummeted. Fuck, shit! He almost didn’t want to look again, to see that she was gone, but he also couldn’t not look. A tear slipped free as he reluctantly refocused on where she’d been, his pulse pounding–

She wasn’t. Wasn’t gone. Her gaze was filled with frustration and a longing he could read from here as her fingers moved clothespins with no purpose he could discern. Could spirits do that? Move things in the real world? Or was this the real world… could be a dream… could be a nightmare, could be…

Resh lifted his free hand to run his fingers over his throat, ignoring the sharp pangs shooting through his chest at the movement. There, the little indentations, the scars from the thorn collar, they were there. Real? Was she real, too? Gods, he wanted her to be real. More than anything.

He had to check, had to see…

Lox tightened his grip on Resh’s waist. “Woah there, take it slow, now.”

“Oh, look! He’s actually looking around,” Rowan said. “I think that’s the first sign of interest he’s shown in, well, anything.”

Their words faded into the background. Resh kept his gaze locked on the woman who looked like Carr. She didn’t look away from him either.

Just as he was getting ready to let himself believe it might actually be her, another man walked up and draped an arm over her shoulder. She broke their eye contact, looking up at the man. Talking to him. Not pulling away, not pulling a knife, not putting him on his ass.

The man started walking, pulling her away with him. Still, he couldn’t look away. Couldn’t let go of the idea… was he imagining things, or was her back a little too stiff, her gait reluctant?

Another person had come up to speak to Lox while Resh’s attention had been elsewhere. Lox’s grip was loose, and Resh was feeling a little stronger now. He could pull away. He could punch that other man in the face and make sure the woman who reminded him of Carr was okay.

They were about to disappear behind one of the cabins, the man’s hand now in the center of the woman’s back, guiding her along. Pushing her along. He ground his teeth, hoping he wasn’t about to fall on his face chasing after someone who probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

But before he could move, the woman’s fingers flashed behind her back, right as they turned the corner.

Resh blinked. That… that was sign.

Stay. The way is clear.

Thieves cant sign.

What the fuck. He shook his head, even more confused. He’d never understood ‘the way is clear’, and he understood it even less now. He was standing here only under the assistance of the man who’d shot him and killed… killed the women he loved… His breath caught in his throat and he forcibly redirected his thoughts.

How the fuck was the way clear? How the fuck was a dead woman signing at him from under the arm of some guy? It was, it couldn’t be, it–

Lox pulled away from him, and Resh lurched, knees almost buckling until Rowan ducked under his arm, taking Lox’s place.

“Can you manage him?” Lox asked them, and Rowan gave a sharp nod in answer. “Good. You know the priorities.” With that, he grabbed Rowan’s face between large, callused hands that Resh had an all too close view of, and kissed Rowan, hard. Quickly, but thoroughly.

Resh tried not to gag.

Rowan turned to him, their lips swollen and cheeks slightly flushed, and said, “C’mon.”

They started moving, and Resh had no choice but to hobble along with them, trying not to wince as the movement stretched the skin in his shoulder and jarred his sore ribs. He’d expected to be deposited back in that room, but they set off across the field, passing the clothesline and going the opposite direction from where the woman who might be Carr had disappeared. He wanted to ask what was happening, but, of course, he couldn’t.

At least, Rowan had never looked less like the prince with those kiss-swollen lips. And the clearing was definitely not in the capital, not with those huge trees looming all around. For that, he was grateful.

~~~

Carr

They were coming. So soon and not soon enough and fucking shit, she needed the rest of her blades.

Carr twisted the one she’d stolen from Demex in her hand, running her thumb along familiar grooves. Gods, it felt good to have it back, like she’d been missing an extension of herself. She felt more complete with a weapon on her person.

With the blade pressed against the inside of her left wrist, Carr pushed away from the cabin and moved towards the gathering cabin, fully intending to veer off to the gates before she got there. She’d find her stash, and if she had time she’d change out of this motherfucking dress–

A flash of movement caught in the corner of her eye, and she ducked behind the sheets.

“Arah?”

Fuck, that was Rowan. She hadn’t moved fast enough. Carr switched the blade to her right hand, then put what she hoped was a convincingly frightened expression on her face and stepped back out. “Demex said we’re bein’ attacked…” She trailed off as she came face to face with Resh, who was leaning on the healer’s shoulder.

She couldn’t act like she knew him. Or did it really matter at this point? “Uhhh…”

“You’re heading to the gathering cabin?”

Carr nodded mutely, unable to look away from Resh, whose mouth kept opening and closing but not forming anything that looked like words.

“Well then, I could use some help, if you don’t mind,” Rowan said a bit acerbically.

She did mind, actually, but it wasn’t like she could really refuse. “Who–”

“A new one,” Rowan said as Carr slipped under Resh’s left arm. Their tone invited no further questions, and they started moving as soon as Carr was in place.

Carr hoped Resh didn’t mind the feel of cold steel against the bare skin of his lower back.

The gathering cabin was all the way at the rear of the valley, giving her plenty of time to notice things like how heavily Resh leaned on Rowan but not her, and whether slipping the knife pressed against Resh’s back into Rowan’s waist was a good move or not.

For once, she’d really prefer not to harm someone to get what she wanted. Which was Resh, who kept giving her sidelong glances, looking like he’d seen a spirit, and damnit, she wasn’t dead and could he just get that through his head already?

They passed several people heading down, some of whom offered their help, which Rowan refused. Carr seethed a little more each time it happened. The man who tended the animals passed them by without comment, herding a group of goats. Where the fuck he’d put them in the gathering hall was a question she’d prefer to have unanswered, because she really couldn’t get stuck in there.

“Rowan, I can take him if there’re things you need t’ do,” she said, only for her offer to be declined.

Fuck. Was she gonna have to stab them after all?

While she wrestled with a conscience she didn’t much like having acquired, it occurred to her that it was much too quiet. Aside from the activity of a few stragglers, there was no noise coming from the forest around them. Carr’s eyes flicked up to the ridge, where she’d spent some time watching the camp herself. Light glinted off something metal as someone stepped out from the treeline, a bow raised–

“Get down!” she shouted, shoving Resh into Rowan and sending them all staggering sideways. The arrow whizzed over her shoulder as she fell, positioning herself over Resh. Someone released a pained cry in the distance, and Rowan started cursing. Resh shuddered beneath her.

Rage coursed through Carr, and she lifted her head towards the cliff. “Stop shootin’ at the people you came to rescue, you dumb fucking shits!” She thought she saw the bowman startle, then they shifted back, became indistinguishable from the treeline.

“Useless as fuckin’ tits on a turtle,” she grumbled under her breath.

Something shook beneath her, and she looked down to find Resh staring up at her, his eyes wide. And filled with… tears. Fuck.

Carr? he mouthed, disbelief transforming to radiant hope.

“You fucking bitch,” Rowan hissed, and Carr wrenched her gaze away to find the healer staring at her right hand, clenched around the dagger on the ground.

Carr jerked up and away as they lunged for it. Shit, guess she should’ve stabbed them after all. She slashed at the healer when they attempted to disarm her, and they reared back, holding a bleeding hand to their chest.

“Resh, get up,” she urged, positioning herself in front of him. “Don’t want t’ hurt you, Rowan, but I will if you make any more moves towards me or him, understand?”

The look Rowan gave her could’ve peeled the skin from her bones, but they backed away. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Do you?” Carr retorted. “Your crazy fuckin’ leader almost killed us for some fucking gold, and then kidnapped my friend! Only reason I didn’t slit every one of you spineless cunting fark’s throats is because you seemed like decent people. Don’t fuckin’ prove me wrong now.”

She glanced behind her to find Resh still struggling to push himself up. His bandages, fresh and white before, now were splotched with blood.

Carr knelt to help him without taking her eyes off Rowan. “If you’ve got what I think you’ve got in that cabin, go. Get outta here before the rest of the soldiers get here.”

Shouts and clangs of metal replaced the unnatural quiet in the valley, growing closer and closer. Thankfully, no further shots had come from above, but Carr didn’t trust that to last. Although it was fucking ironic they’d shot at the ones they’d come to save.

Rowan’s face fell. As they backed away, Carr felt a twinge of guilt for the likely fates of the ones outside the camp’s walls, fighting for their community’s chance of escape. An escape they’d never get to take part in. Demex, who’d been kind to her, that nasty kiss aside, would die fighting for them, and if she could, she’d make sure he didn’t die in vain.

But first, she needed to make sure she and Resh didn’t get accidentally offed in this rescue attempt. She switched her blade to her left hand, then ducked under his right arm, the blood seeping through the bandages reminding her which side he’d been shot on. “I got you, Resh, c’mon.”

She staggered under his weight, but they both managed to get to their feet. Where his face promptly lost what little color it’d had to begin with. Shit. “Resh, you good?”

He nodded, but she could see it was a lie. His breathing was too fast, too shallow. Beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead, curling the limp strands of his hair.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

His mouth moved, but she couldn’t make out what he was trying to say before his legs gave out. Carr lowered him to the ground as gently as she could. Which wasn’t that gently, not with his dead weight bearing down on her.

“Rowan!” Carr shouted, her hands fluttering over Resh’s bandages, wondering if she should rip them off to find the problem or if that would make things worse. Gods, what if they didn’t come back?

She waited a few seconds, but they didn’t come, so she decided the bandages needed to come off so she could see what she was dealing with. Instead of unwrapping them, she placed the tip of the blade under the strips of linen, ready to slice through, but then someone caught her arm.

They almost lost the hand they’d laid on her before Carr realized it was Rowan. “Oh thank fuck, you came back. What’s wrong with him, can you help?”

“I might be able to if you let me past,” Rowan said carefully, glancing at the knife Carr had shifted to their sternum, angled to stab up under their ribcage into their heart.

Carr hadn’t even realized she’d moved. She dropped her arm but paused before moving aside. “Nothin’ funny, yeah?”

“Kid, I’ve been tending to him night and day for almost a week, I’m not gonna off him now. But I don’t have much time–”

Carr tilted her head, listening to the sounds of the fighting.

“–so if you don’t mind…”

She moved. Her hands trembled as she kneeled on Resh’s other side, knife at the ready. Just in case. But the healer paid her no heed, instead feeling around on Resh’s chest.

Ribs, Carr thought. Fuck. If he had broken ribs, and she’d shoved him to the ground, one of them could’ve snapped, stabbed through a lung… had he been gasping for air before he’d passed out? But there was no blood at his mouth… her mind raced through the scenarios. She’d seen such injuries before. Every one had been fatal.

It was her breath coming too fast now, waiting for the damning verdict, that after everything, she’d ended up killing him herself.

“I think,” Rowan began, then paused to feel around some more. “I–”

“I think you should back away from this man before I slit your throat,” a male voice rumbled.

Rowan raised their hands, a resigned look on their face. “Waited too fucking long,” they muttered.

Carr glared at the man holding Resh’s life at knifepoint. “Brant, you dumbfuck, can’t you see they’re trying t’ help?” When he didn’t move, she hissed, “Let. Them. Go.”

He did, grumbling about the thanks he got for coming to save her life.

“Well?” she asked Rowan.

“I think his ribs are still intact,” the healer said before pulling up the bandage over Resh’s left shoulder. “He pulled the stitches again, though. Fucking pits, it’s impossible to keep them in this kid.”

Carr let out a shuddering breath, ignoring the look Brant shot her way. “Well, why’s he like this then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe overextended himself. But he’s not about to die, and I am, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.”

Brant moved to block them. “The pits you will. We’re rounding up the whole lot of you thieving bastards.”

Carr bit back a scoff; those were rich words coming from him, and from the humor dancing in his gaze, he knew it.

When she regained some control over herself, she said, “Let Rowan go, Brant. This place isn’t what we thought it was, and these people inside the walls have done nothing wrong.”

He raised a brow. “I can’t. We found the exit to the valley before we attacked from the front. There’s no escaping this place.”

Rowan’s breath caught, and Carr watched their face crumple.

Oh gods. If Resh wasn’t in immediate danger, she needed to fix this. “Who’s in charge? Did the Elder come with you? There are women and children here, people like… people like us, Brant.” She watched the meaning of her words sink in.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fine. You two stay here, I’ll go pass the info along. And get someone to come help with Resh.”

Carr nodded, thankful she didn’t need to leave Resh after all. It would be okay. Once he was safe, she’d make sure to speak to the Elder, back up Brant’s words.

She placed her hand against his cheek, the feel of several days’ stubble harsh against her palm. “It’s gonna be alright, Resh, promise.” She’d make sure of it.

The slightest bit of pressure registered against her fingers, as if he’d turned his head into her palm in response.

#hidden depths #original writing #original characters #whump #whump writing #fantasy writing #fantasy whump

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ahsokathegray · 7 months

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Fruitful, Fruitless

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Feb. ‘24 - Give Me a Reason

Summary: The tension between spring and summer permeates the air of Pabu, breathing softly against the ocean, fresh fruit, and the tender lips of two lovers. But even on the most blissful days, the cold snap of tragedy can bite back.

Tags: 18+ smut, language, established relationship, whump, allergic reaction, gardener!rex, sex and fruit don't mix, or do they?, pwp

Word Count: 8,075

A/N: written for my friend @whyamismall as part of febuwhump! (@rexsoka-monthly)

read on ao3! / masterlist

It wasn’t quite summer just yet. The air blew warm now but the ocean was as icy as ever. If a cloud happened to pass overhead, creating shade from the sun, a small chill would still skirt across one’s skin.

Ahsoka had never fretted over clothing options before and she found herself shuddering over her past choices as she currently debated between her coveralls or a sundress.

It was the opening day for Pabu’s summer garden market. She’d be there supporting Rex. Naturally, the sundress won, even if it meant a brisk breeze every now and then up the light marital.

Caf was already prepared when she made her way into the kitchen, the aroma of the ground beans wafting through the air. Her favorite mug sat waiting for her on the counter, steam dancing above it. Ahsoka smiled and opened a window; the various scents of flowers and the salt of the ocean wafted in, mixing with the smell of homemade caf.

Store bought caf could never rival the rich flavor that Rex’s had. Something truly was magical about it, whether it was because it was being grown in their back garden or perhaps just by Rex’s hand specifically. She’d maintain that it was him that made it so special.

It was a surprise to them and the Batch that he had turned out to have such a green thumb. After years of violence, he could finally lose himself in something soft.

He’d probably argue with her now though that gardening wasn’t the only soft thing that he was losing himself in.

Ahsoka savored her morning caf and forced herself not to leave the shared home too early, giving Rex time to settle in and acclimate to a rhythm. Showing up at the market too soon might throw him off his game.

Large butterfly wings tickled her insides as she grabbed her woven basket a while later. She then adjusted her braided headdress and exited through the door. It was a gorgeous day. The musical sounds of laughter, music, and waves licking at the beach filled her montrals. Not a single cloud dotted the sky. Ahsoka exhaled and grinned to herself. There couldn’t have been more perfect conditions for the market’s opening day.

She had to stop herself from walking up to the festivities so swiftly, neither Rex nor it was going anywhere anytime soon.

Troves of people filled the square when she arrived, milling about under colorful canopies, tents, and decorated stalls. A hefty portion of Pabu’s inhabitants had to be up here. She laughed, thinking how Wrecker would be none too pleased that he was missing this. He and the Batch had been gone for two weeks and were scheduled to return home later in the evening.

Perhaps she should’ve crafted a larger basket to account for so many mouths to feed.

It was because of Wrecker specifically that Ahsoka was thankful to have some time without the boys every now and then. Their stock of food was always running low, so a few weeks with full cabinets had been nice. It was also partly due to Wrecker that Rex decided to take up gardening. Credits were in short supply, they had seven people in the house, and he said he needed something else to keep his hands busy.

He could only clean his blaster so often.

His fruits and vegetables were impeccable in both growth and flavor. He couldn’t plant or harvest them fast enough, as the Batch and a growing Omega seemed to inhale them. Rex had been particularly excited for Ahsoka to try his avedame fruit, but they’d been devoured so quickly that she hadn't had the chance. The next time they sprouted from soil, he had personally brought a bowl of them to her room — already washed and ready for eating.

It was the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth. He told her to just wait, as he’d set more of the fruit aside to ferment into avedame wine.

After that, Rex tripled his efforts and wound up with a surplus of produce. He’d gift it to the neighbors until other islanders were knocking at the door requesting them and even offering a generous amount of credits.

Hosting a stall at the summer market was the solution. Pabu’s mayor, Shep Hazard, had even started it a month earlier than years past due to high demand.

Ahsoka stood on her tiptoes to look over the heads of the market goers, trying to see if she could spot a certain blue decorated stall. She had no such luck in finding it so she set off, starting from one end and making her way around.

A second basket was added to her other forearm before long, carrying all sorts of goods but mostly food. A new throw blanket was placed on the bottom — Omega’s tooka had claimed her old one, various breads sat atop that, and several spices were tucked amongst the loaves. In the other basket, she had fresh fruits and vegetables that Rex did not already cultivate in their back garden. A third basket was looking to be a real possibility soon.

She meandered along the stalls, conversing with acquaintances and nurturing potential new friendships. Phee Genoa waved her down and placed some found blue jewels into her headdress while Lyana slipped a handmade bracelet over her wrist. Both of them ushered her to their own stall of jams and cheeses, stuffing them into her mouth and baskets alike.

Lyana also had a small jewelry section at the stall, which she proudly displayed her and Omega’s joint creations. The credits made would be split between the girls. Ahsoka bought another bracelet even though she had already been given one as a gift.

Phee was quick to rescue her and walked them back to a stall that Ahsoka had purposely skipped over just earlier. “Now, are you going to tell me why you passed this one?” the woman asked, smirking. “Or am I gonna have to get it out of you? You turned a shade of orange I didn’t even know existed.”

Ahsoka flushed deeply, displaying again the shade of orange that Phee mentioned. “You saw that?”

The older woman crossed her arms and stopped before they reached said stall. “It’s the pretty one, isn’t it? The blonde. How long has it been going on?” She wore a proud smirk, taking great pleasure in the face Ahsoka made at the mention of Rex.

A cool breeze ruffled Ahsoka’s dress and she was thankful that it relieved her full bodied blush. She swallowed thickly and averted her eyes from the stall filled with lacy little things.

“It’s difficult to say exactly,” Ahsoka revealed, looking around for the other party of which this conversation was concerned. “But when the boys left recently, it just—”

“Oh, I see. They don’t know about this little thing going on between you two, do they?”

“No, they don’t.”

“And the kid?” Phee cocked an eyebrow.

Ahsoka took a breath, “I think she suspects.”

The woman laughed in triumph, “I figured as much. There’s not a lot that gets by that one.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ahsoka said. “But nothing really… happened until the night they left.”

A knowing smile was directed towards her. She knew exactly what that meant. “Well, you want my advice?” Phee’s expression turned somehow more smug and she gave one more nod towards the intimidating little booth. “You’ve got a few more hours until they’re back. I’d be making the most of my time.”

This was perhaps the most bizarre… yet oddly validating conversation Ahsoka had ever had. Her face must’ve said it too, as Phee placed a maternal hand to her shoulder and smiled, “Just an old woman’s rambling.”

With that, she disappeared back into the crowd to find wherever Lyana had run off to.

Ahsoka stood in the middle of the market with her baskets hanging low. That was maybe her third conversation with Phee total and the woman had already observed that much. Surely, before today she had an inkling or two about her and Rex. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so… direct. The woman’s advice wasn’t solicited, but not entirely unwelcome either. Ahsoka glanced at the discreet little stall again and her heart rate increased as she actually considered stopping at it this time. Would it be too forward too soon? It had only been two weeks that she and Rex had been phsyic—

“No, you have to come to this guy’s booth. He has the best avedames you’ll ever eat. I’m not kidding,” an enthusiastic Rodian girl told her friend.

Without another look at the little black stall, Ahsoka turned and hurried to follow them, weaving in and out of smaller crowds. Soon, she found that she was at the back of a sizable line. A grin consumed her face when she saw him, placing large orders into bags and chatting excitedly with people. The majority of his stall had been cleared of goods. He’d nearly sold out of everything she’d helped him load up the night before.

Her smile did not diminish a bit as she inched closer in the line. If anything, her face started to ache with the sheer amount of happiness lifting her cheeks. Rex had managed to do it all without help. A small amount of guilt dug a hole in her chest as she found herself wishing she’d come sooner. He might’ve let her bag items or restock what he’d sold.

In no time, she was the next customer in line. Rex was tidying his space and had yet to look up. “Welcome! How can I help you this morn—” his words failed him as he turned and saw who exactly his waiting customer was. That endearing half smile spread over his pretty lips. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met, Miss…”

Ahsoka giggled to herself and played along, “Ashla Tano. And you are?”

He pointed to the sign she’d helped paint that hung over his stall. “Rex. It’s an immense pleasure, Miss Tano.” His hand was extended, palm facing upwards.

She placed her hand in his and he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, his amber eyes fixed on her the whole while. The darkening of her lekku nor the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach could be quelled.

“What can I get for you on this fine day?” he asked.

The selections behind him were minimal, but Ahsoka had made her decision. “Could I get you, by any chance?”

It was his turn to blush, the red coloring creeping up from the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat and gave his reply in a much lower voice, “That’s reserved only to select clientele, ma’am.”

A shriek of a child’s far off laughter lifted the spell between them. Rex straightened and released Ahsoka’s hand, which neither of them realized he’d still held.

“Well, Miss Tano. We don’t have too much left, I’m afraid. I’ve completely sold out of my stonepeaches, but you have to try the avedames instead. I think you’ll like them.”

Ahsoka’s brow markings raised and she sat her baskets on the table. “Alright then,” she smiled.

Rex turned to sift through a crate and spent a few moments looking for the best one. He presented it to her but pulled his hand back as she reached for it. A devilish grin played at the corner of his mouth, “May I?”

“Oh, I’d be delighted,” Ahsoka said, continuing to play this game he’d created and bending at the waist.

She opened her mouth just so and Rex placed the avedame between her plump lips. Ahsoka kept her eyes locked on his the entire time, unblinking, and fluttered her lashes as she bit seductively into the innocent fruit. His own lips parted at the mere sight of it, the muscle in his jaw flexing visibly. She moaned at the taste and watched as the sunny amber of his irises simmered.

After what seemed like forever, she pulled away and composed herself, acting as though she hadn’t just done what she did. “Rex, that was the most delicious fruit I’ve ever tried. I’ll take a small case off your hands. Name your price.”

“Thank you, Miss Tano,” Rex said, clearing his throat and expertly shifting his pants around. “For you? The cost is just one date.”

“Just one?” Ahsoka asked playfully.

He could play too. “Unless you think two is fair.”

“I think two dates is a fine price,” she agreed, nearing him again.

Rex wet his lips. “It’s settled then. But before you go, it looks like you have a bit of the avedame juice just there,” he said, pointing to the corner of his mouth.

Ahsoka perked up and wiped at the wrong side, looking for his nod of approval, only finding that it didn’t come. “Here. Allow me,” he breathed, leaning forwards and swiping his thumb over her supple skin, being sure to graze her bottom lip in the process. He retreated from her bubble all too soon and popped his thumb past his lips to clean it, maintaining eye contact as he did so.

Revenge was literally something sweet.

She caught herself in a blinking fit and squeezed her thighs together, adding the berries to her basket. “I hear avedames make for a sweet wine.”

Rex smiled at the smallness of her voice. “The sweetest. I’ll see you later for our date, Miss Tano,” he said darkly. “I reckon’ I’ll be finished here in about an hour. I’m looking forward to it.”

“As am I,” she squeaked, thanking him and promptly booking it to the little black stall of Phee’s recommendation.

Ahsoka burst into the seaside home some fifteen minutes later, throwing her baskets onto the counter and rushing for the laundry room. She glanced at the chrono and decided she had just enough time before Rex returned home. Her new purchase was snatched from the discreet black bag and thrown into the wash as she set to unloading the rest of her items.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the time ticked by both way too slow and somehow way too fast. It was just one item. It wouldn’t take long to wash and dry, surely.

The washer dinged once she finished putting up the majority of the groceries, signaling the end of the cycle. Ahsoka then popped the lacy scrap of fabric into the dryer and used the Force to push the start button. If Rex wasn’t already headed down to the house, he would be very soon.

Wanting to be as prepared as possible, Ahsoka went ahead and slipped her underwear down her legs, adding them to her basket of other things needing to be washed. Her face flushed with the action and she smoothed her dress down. The garment’s replacement would be finished soon anyway and this only bought her time.

Ahsoka glanced around the house. It was silent and empty now but wouldn’t be for much longer. She did a quick scan to see if there was something else that could be done before Rex’s arrival.

She eyed some of her market finds that still had yet to be put away and it was then that the idea dawned upon her. There was no telling when the boys of the Batch would be gone again. Borrowed time was all she and Rex had while they were around. It was the boys’ house first, after all. She’d been bunked up with Omega for months now and Rex with Tech. Neither of them were too pleased with their sleeping arrangements. Only so much could be done about three bedrooms and seven people.

Now that things had started between her and Rex, adjusting that to their normal schedule would be tough. Being that this was their final night alone, it had to be special…

The new bloom fruit stared back at her and she caved before she could talk herself out of it. This had most certainly not been part of Phee’s advice, but Ahsoka felt that it aligned similarly. She set some aside in a glass dish, slightly embarrassed as she did so. The power Rex exerted over her with his fruit display had been provocative to say the least. It was her turn this time. She’d take the lead. Just the sheer idea of it charged her nerves more positively, but the sudden sound of the door opening caused her mind to go blank.

The dryer hadn’t finished yet. Her time had run out.

Rex burst through the door with several empty stacked crates in his arms, which were hastily discarded on the floor in the foyer. He strode with purpose into the home, out of breath, and with a feral glint in his eye that only doubled when he set his sights on what he desired most. His head cocked to the side and a sinful smile curled at his lips, accompanied by a hungry laugh.

Ahsoka was like an entranced kybuck faced with an approaching speeder.

“Not having second thoughts about our date are we, Miss Tano?” Rex growled, towering over her and taking her lips for his own in a searing kiss.

Oh, how delightfully gone were the days in which he called her Commander.

His hands slotted themselves under her jaw as he kissed her ravenously, drinking in her little gasps. Rex’s mouth was demanding, insatiable; his body moved with him, almost cradling hers. His touch moved quickly from her jaw down the length of her neck, trembling despite the speed at which he moved. Large fingers fiddled with the hem of her short dress. It was as if he had ten hands. He couldn’t touch all of her fast enough.

“This karking sundress was testing me on every level imaginable,” he breathed, squeezing her ass through the fabric. His lips ghosted over her montral, “Is that what you wanted? For me to lose all composure in public?”

A choked moan rattled from her throat. “Am I that easy to read?” she teased, running her hands along his chest, fingering at his buttons.

He didn’t miss a beat. “I think you should be directing that question to the avedame from earlier.”

“You mean the one you fed to me?” Ahsoka asked, speaking hotly into the kiss.

Rex swiped his tongue along her bottom lip then tugged lightly at it with his teeth. “I want you to look at me like you did with that avedame in your mouth, but this time while your pretty lips are wrapped around my cock,” he murmured against her, matching the force of her desperate kisses.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she challenged. “Feeding me in that way.”

He groaned and nipped at her montral, “I’d like to fuck you in this short little dress.”

Her thighs squeezed impossibly together at his words and that familiar throb in her core now demanded attention. Rex couldn’t have been more in sync with her body’s needs. One of his hands ran over the full extent of her backside before drifting under her dress, cupping her pussy, and finding it bare.

Ahsoka shuddered at the touch and Rex’s mouth separated from hers just barely. His lips were swollen with the throes of passion and a chapped, playful smirk adorned his features once the shock subsided. “You’re not wearing anything?” he asked breathily. The pulse point near his jaw visibly picked up in pace.

She bit her lip, prepared to admit what she’d done. But the explanation never came as Rex returned to her with new, intensified need, his tongue combating hers for dominance. Ahsoka was fighting a losing battle, something she was never meant to win — completely by Rex’s design. Her moans were left strangled in her throat as his fingers teased her entrance. The amount of excitement coating them nearly caused his knees to buckle beneath him.

Ragged breaths tumbled past her lips as Rex inserted a single, thick finger. A satisfied groan vibrated against her jaw as he began to move, leaving her cunt drooling in his palm.

Ahsoka stumbled into him, using his body weight to keep herself upright while her hand searched blindly for the apex of his thighs. He hissed through his teeth when she found what she was looking for and she ground against his hand, seeking more. “Fuck. So eager today, ‘Soka,” he breathed.

She nodded furiously, unable to access her words, using her free hand to tug at his wrist, begging him to add another. He was unable to deny her. A gentle kiss was placed the montral cradling his jaw. His spare hand joined the other under her sundress, gripping her hip as a second finger was guided into her wet heat. Ahsoka squirmed, rocking her pussy into his palm as he stretched her.

“Give me one good reason not to fuck you right here in this kitchen,” he growled as her cunt suckled at his fingers. Lewd sounds came from between her thighs as Rex pumped in and out of her.

He felt her clench around him. “I can’t. I— We haven’t done it in here yet.”

A carnal growl emanated from Rex’s chest and he made quick work of his pants fasteners, not even bothering to shove them all the way down. Orange fingers latched instantaneously to his throbbing cock, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his glistening slit and spreading the excitement down his shaft. Rex’s abs contracted with the contact and her lips were seized once more.

His ministrations never faltered, determined to work her until she spasmed blissfully into his hand. He adjusted his palm so that the heel of it was pressed flush to Ahsoka’s swollen clit. She cried out in response, biting down on his shirt briefly. Rex was quick to rid himself of the hindering material, tossing it to the floor. If she wanted to bite something, she could bite him instead.

Irises that were once blue now appeared black as Ahsoka drank in the image of his toned chest, still sprinkled with love bites from the night before. She bit her lip and ran her hands along his abs, dipping between the lines defining his muscles and traveling back down to his weeping cock. Her grip was determined and Rex growled as she began to pump. There was a fiery glint of competition in her eyes.

No.

Rex promptly pulled her hand away, taking hold of her wrist and pinning it at her side. His fingers were removed from her sticky cunt, wet and claiming her other wrist, but not before he sucked them clean of her mess. Ahsoka whined at the loss but her protests were swallowed with the force of Rex’s mouth, turning into sweet gasps as the head of his dick teased her hole.

“Please,” she begged against his lips as he slowly, teasingly slid in and out of her thighs.

He nipped at her bottom lip once more, “Are you going to be a good girl and let me make you cum?” Her hips bucked and he laughed darkly.

“Yes.”

With that, her wrists were released and Rex sheathed himself inside her, the both of them a mess of pitiful noises. Watching her adjust to the feel of him was something entirely cosmic, how her face twitched with each stretching inch of him, how her brow markings knitted together, and how her bottom lip wobbled. His eyes drifted downwards, sparks going off behind his navel as the edges of her short dress showed him where they were connected.

He bottomed out inside her with ease, moaning as her tight pussy hugged his full length. Suddenly, his hands were shaky again as he lifted the material of her sundress, revealing an unobstructed view of where his cock sat inside her. Ahsoka’s pretty cunt was glistening, spread around him like the flower of a fruit in his garden. Rex’s pupils were blown wide as he brushed over the white markings that framed her opening, grazing the nub of her clit in the process.

Ahsoka’s eyes were glassy when he finally looked back up at her. Her chest was rising and falling heavily, her hands pressed into the surface behind her for support.

“Oh, mesh’la,” he whispered, starting to move to provide her with relief.

Their shared vigor returned, his thrusts and the roll of her hips picking up at record speed. She met him with each movement, the sounds between their thighs beginning to echo in the kitchen.

Her dress flapped violently with the intensity of their passions, giving Rex a peep show of sorts as he fucked up into her. It wasn’t long before his wandering hands slid up under the material, large palms spreading out over her abdomen.

“Don’t– don’t rip it, please,” Ahsoka panted.

Rex chuckled darkly, pressing his forehead against hers, “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. How else would I be able to take you in it again?” He lifted her shaky arms up over her head and made quick work of the little dress, leaving it to join his shirt on the floor.

That thing was going to be the death of him one of these days, especially if she wore it when the boys got back. How was he supposed to behave?

Ahsoka grabbed for the hand nearest to her, pulling it and directing him to where she wanted it most. He chuckled darkly and wrapped his fist around the width of her lekku, squeezing gently at the sensitive appendage. A broken gasp was ripped from her throat and her entire body fluttered with the sensation.

Finding out how reactive to touch her lekku were had been one of Rex’s favorite accidental discoveries so far. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about her.

She was close now, he knew by the way her thighs started to jerk. Rex pressed himself back against her and slammed his hips into her smaller ones. An arm wrapped around her lower back and held her close, but no amount of contact was enough. Ahsoka’s breaths were becoming more shallow and kissing him was becoming the most impossible task to complete. Rex nipped at her jaw and hoisted her feet off the ground, holding one slender orange leg around his waist and bringing her home.

Her body shattered around him, her hips an erratic bucking mess as she still sought friction. Rex fucked her through her orgasm, his brows knitted together with the way her pussy clenched and unclenched around him.

Ahsoka’s head fell into the crook of his shoulder, her full body weight now his to bear. He didn’t mind, especially as she peppered little kisses to the skin around his collar bones, nipping lightly.

“You still have some left in you?” he laughed, squeezing her ass and helping her to wrap her other leg around his waist. They both moaned as his cock was still buried to the hilt within her.

She giggled, regaining her speech, “I’m not done with you just yet. I still have a promise to keep, remember?”

He gave her a gentle little thrust in response, “Keep talking like that and I’ll finish right here inside you. That’s a promise.”

Rex began to carry her out of the kitchen and towards her bedroom when she squeaked out, “Wait!”

He hummed in question, pulling back to meet such striking blue eyes. Oh, she was blushing big time. His genuine concern shifted, turning to the thing she was eyeing on the tabletop. “And just what are we going to do with these?” he asked, taking the whole bowl of mysterious little fruit.

Ahsoka put her tongue in the pocket of her cheek, refusing to divulge such information. Rex knew well what she had intended to do with these. Again, a low, almost animalistic noise caused his chest to vibrate. She was handed the bowl and he made long strides to her door.

She was laid down gently onto the mattress, both of them whining at the disappointment of being separated. As soon as he was out of her, Ahsoka tugged him down to her level and pressed a searing kiss to the corner of his mouth, guiding him to lay back on the bed.

He swallowed thickly as Ahsoka straddled his lap, the unidentifiable berry between her lips, her slick folds brushing over the underside of his dick. Rex’s hips lifted, his need for her indescribable. She finally took pity on him, taking her seat over his cock, her cunt spreading over his girth and her clit kissing the head. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his skull.

“It’s my turn now,” she said, leaning in and presenting him the berry between nimble fingers.

Ahsoka took immense pleasure in the way he looked up at her, his long eyelashes fluttering and amber eyes alight with anticipation.

“It’s called a bloom fruit,” she provided. “Regarded of high value by Dathomirian night sisters and said to enhance the senses.”

He hummed, rolling his hips against her hot core, “Does it taste as good as you do?” The low lighting didn’t allow him to see her blush, but he knew that it was there.

She licked her lips, “I'll let you tell me.”

Rex opened his mouth and allowed her to pass the fruit between his lips. He bit down and moaned, watching as Ahsoka removed it and then bit it herself behind him.

Fuck.

“It’s sweet, but nowhere as sweet as what’s between your legs,” he decided.

She beamed sheepishly. “Well, I quite enjoy it… so much so, that I think I’d like to lick it off of you.”

He nearly choked at her words, clearing his throat and taking a deep inhale, giving her a speechless yet eager nod. Revenge was indeed so sweet. Ahsoka grinded her aching pussy against his rigid cock as she brought the fruit to his lips again, waiting for him to take a bite before dragging it down his chin and neck. The gasp that left Rex’s mouth was sinful and Ahsoka dipped her head to kiss it off his skin, darting her tongue to lick along his jaw and down the prominent cord of his neck. She latched onto the place where muscle and bone met and sucked.

Two strong hands shot up and took hold of her waist with bruising force. Ahsoka let out a surprised yelp and looked to find his eyes half-lidded and swollen lips trembling with his ragged breaths. That spot had clearly been sensitive.

“Fuck, ‘Soka,” he said. “How did we ever wait this long?”

She took another bite from the bloom fruit and pressed it to his chest, spreading the juice over his pecs and nipples. He shivered.

Her grin was wicked, “There’s no stopping us now, is there? Just wait until you see the little number I bought today.”

Rex’s response was a thumb to her clit and she gave him a pitchy gasp, leaning down to clean the juice from his chest, making a show of it and looking him in the eyes the whole while. His jaw flexed and he made a feral noise in his throat, moving his hands to take hold of her ass and kneading, pressing her further against his throbbing member.

She let him have control for just a few moments, rocking her along the underside of his cock and watching as her breasts bounced.

But Ahsoka found herself throwing her head back and so she was quick to resolve the situation, moving further down his body. Rex grunted in protest but quieted himself as he saw where the fruit’s next destination was going to be.

Ahsoka pressed it to his skin once more, trailing it down his toned abs, relishing in the way he twitched and jumped. The head of his cock teased her neck and collar bones, his excessive precum decorating her sienna skin in a thin sheen. She only hummed and pressed a chaste kiss to his needy head.

The amount of self control within Rex was dwindling. He first bit his heavy tongue then clenched his teeth, forcing himself to lie still instead of grab her and switch positions so that he could fuck her into the mattress.

Instead, he looked up, said a brief prayer to her Force, and released a broken moan when Ahsoka’s hot tongue trailed down down down. She lapped up the juice, flicking her tongue and journeying to where his happy trail led. He was embarrassed at the way his body jerked, but Ahsoka couldn’t have been more pleased with her handiwork.

She was eye level with his cock now, looking on as it leaked like a sieve, throbbing and angry and needing her.

Fek, it was getting hard to breathe.

Rex swallowed and spoke around his tightening throat, “‘Soka please.”

There was that lip bite again. She pressed the berry to the base of his dick and he hissed at the contact, holding back whines of desperation as she moved it along the length of him, careful to avoid the head. The juice trailed down him, gathering at his balls.

Ahsoka had, in just two weeks, managed to figure out how exactly to get him where she wanted him. And all she had to do was be in his presence — all of this was just a bonus.

Maybe he’d hold off on telling her that for now though.

After what felt like hours of tantalization, Ahsoka removed the fruit and considered it. It was coated in a mixture of its own juice as well Rex’s; Ahsoka had no hesitation in popping it into her mouth.

It was the most obscene sight he’d ever seen and fuck he very much wanted to see it again.

She descended upon him, her plump lips wrapping around his cock, looking up at him in exactly the way he’d requested earlier. Ahsoka was going slow, painfully slow, moaning around his length and swirling her tongue around his sensitive head.

Rex coughed, overcome with the sensation. His skin burned; he burned for her.

The sounds she made taking his cock caused him to start panting, desperate for something that oxygen couldn’t provide him.

She lifted from his length with a pop and wiped the mixture of arousal, spit, and fruit juice from her chin. “Most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” she said huskily, taking him yet again.

His cock disappeared once more behind her lips and all self control was lost.

Rex was a mess, thrusting up into her hot mouth like his life depended on it. He was whimpering, face screwing up as he lost control, reaching for her montrals with weak fingers. His vision was going, orgasm imminent, hips bucking erratically as he rasped her name, finishing hard on her tongue and crying out as she swallowed around him.

His eyes closed and he became one with the mattress, hand twitching and body spasming as he experienced a wave of aftershocks. A cool hand was placed on his forehead, accompanied by a sweet kiss.

“Rex?” she asked, her voice sounding like it was under water.

The only answer he could give her was a weak, half smile that faded as quickly as it came.

He faded as quickly as he came.

“Rex?” Ahsoka asked again, her satisfaction faltering.

His erratic breathing had ceased all too soon.

Knocks never came to the front door as Phee let herself in, running. Ahsoka had only left Rex once to retrieve their clothes and Rex dressed from the waist down. She was frantic and most thankful for the woman and her very convenient power chair. Their earlier conversation was now a blessing.

Rex’s unconscious body was placed in the seat and Ahsoka strapped him in, careful to avoid the rash that had bloomed across his body — everywhere she’d touched the fruit to his skin.

The lights in her bedroom had been so low and the curtains drawn. It had spread so fast and without her knowledge.

“How far is the hospital?” Ahsoka asked, trying and failing to regulate her breathing.

“Not far. Come on. They’re expecting us and have agreed not to ask questions,” the woman explained, leading Ahsoka out the door and into the bright afternoon.

Ahsoka ran behind Phee, using the Force to breathe life into Rex. The streets surrounding their home were empty and Ahsoka was most grateful that everyone was still gathered up by the market. Birds still sang and music still played, the distant echoes of laughter reaching her montrals. They were quite the sight running through Lower Pabu, a stark juxtaposition of terror against the backdrop of what was otherwise a perfect day.

Phee took a sharp left turn and Ahsoka maneuvered Rex’s hover chair, holding his head to prevent any possible whiplash. She’d never felt so careless in her life.

He’d made much more noise than what she learned to be his usual that afternoon in the bedroom than he had over the past two weeks. How much of his cries had been due to pleasure versus… Force, she hoped he hadn’t experienced any pain. She didn’t feel anything remotely of the sort from his Force signature. It had unmistakably been from pleasure.

They then burst through the doors of the hospital not long after, the emergency staff already transferring Rex onto a repulsorlift stretcher.

“His name is Rex. Put it under Phee Genoa. I’m with his friend, Ashla. He’s having a reaction and hasn’t responded in—” she turned to Ahsoka.

Her chrono was already out. “Nine minutes now. And his breathing is obstructed. Please help him,” she begged.

“We’ll do all that we can,” the worker said, wheeling Rex down a long, stark hallway. Another worker gave Rex’s party the go ahead and Ahsoka and Phee both rushed after him, following where he’d been heading into a nearby room.

He was hooked up to their machines with unrivaled speed and the medical droids were already prepping their tests. Multiple screens filled the room and Ahsoka bit at her nails — something she hadn’t done in years.

“The patient is suffering a severe allergic reaction and is experiencing disruption to his breathing pathways. I do not know how he has remained alive. He is unresponsive and must be given the proper combative injection or else faces imminent death.”

Hot tears welled up in Ahsoka’s eyes as she witnessed his unconscious body be poked and prodded. His skin was inflamed and blotchy from the mouth down. She couldn’t even react to her desperate use of the Force being the only thing that kept him alive for those few, long, detrimental minutes.

He could be dead. She would’ve been the one to kill him.

The shot was already on hand due to the description Phee had provided to the staff when she called, as well as their physical assessment of Rex upon his arrival. A distressed little nurse droid produced the shot for the medical droid and stood back as it was administered, beginning to articulate to Ahsoka and Phee what it did.

Rex’s chest instantly filled with air, his lungs and passageways opening at last. He fell into a coughing fit and his eyes shot wide, pupils shrinking with the severe light overhead. His body thrashed on the table and a gurgling noise sounded in his throat.

Ahsoka’s sobs were instantaneous and Phee wrapped her arms around her, welcoming the younger girl to cry into her shoulder.

She didn’t know if she was crying more so because it had almost killed him or the fact that he was finally free from the life-threatening reaction. But her chance to expel her emotions were cut short by the nurse droid, tugging at the hem of her dress. Ahsoka sniffed and looked to where it was pointing at the door, the full Batch standing and peering into the small window.

Her eyes closed briefly as she exhaled her frustration and Phee grabbed the door, walking her out into the hallway.

“Is Rex alright? We were landing when Omega saw you guys running,” Echo said, evidently the most distraught of the men.

The words alone were enough to make Ahsoka want to burst into tears again. Phee noticed and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “He’s going to be fine. Just a little allergic reaction is all.”

“Allergies? From what? I thought regs didn’t have allergies?” Hunter asked.

Tech, as always, was quick to provide an explanation. “Regs typically do not have allergies, correct, but Rex’s signature blonde hair color does not come from any chemical. Perhaps this too is another outlier gene he developed in incubation.”

Phee smiled at the man she referred to as “brown eyes” and agreed, “Couldn’t have said it better myself. We’re just lucky that Ashla here noticed his reaction to the fruit in time.”

“Oh no,” Wrecker said, “Rex isn’t going to stop gardening is he?”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but laugh a little past her drying tears, “No, it wasn’t one of his. It was one that I bought from the summer market.”

He gave a big sigh of relief and promptly left with Omega, as they’d arrived just in time to still get to go.

Moments later, Rex was wheeled out of the room, barely awake and weak. He smiled anyway. Everyone had shown up for him. His appearance was jarring for his brothers, who hadn’t yet seen the extent of his condition.

The medical droids had laden him with bacta patches going down his front and disappearing into his pants. For his mouth, there was a salve applied. “All this for me?” he asked jokingly past swollen lips.

Ahsoka’s heart ached but she laughed despite it all.

Rex winked at her and then turned to the boys, “Don’t tell me I look as bad as your faces say I do.”

Hunter glanced between Rex and Ahsoka and attempted to stifle the knowing smirk spreading over his lips. Echo, observant as ever, caught it at the last second. His jaw hung open as he put two and two together, almost getting left behind as everyone made their way to the exit.

The presence of the boys back in the home was a welcome one. Neither Ahsoka nor Rex realized how much they’d missed having them around. It did mean less copulating in every room and on every surface in the little home, which was a downside. But everyone, even Rex, was laughing about the incident in no time.

He’d been quick about crafting a story — one that didn’t involve being naked in Ahsoka’s bed and having her quite literally suck the life out of him. Rex stood by his tale about attempting to bake something with the bloom fruit, getting it on his clothes, and continuing on in the nude. Conveniently, in this story, Ahsoka was up looking for him at the market and not yet realizing he’d already returned home.

It was quite unconvincing, as there was a hole in the poorly weaved lie. What if Ahsoka came back to find him baking and dancing sans any clothing? Rex just argued that the fruit had already begun to take a critical effect on him.

Wrecker was the first one to dive into the pantry, excited to make himself (and reluctantly everyone else) sandwiches with the new bread. Hunter set to unloading their cargo and Echo began with laundry.

Rex sat with Ahsoka on a cozy little sofa, purposefully choosing the item of furniture due to its tight squeeze. They were thigh to thigh and conversing quietly. Thankfully, the blotches on his skin had greatly started to subside and his lips were no longer swollen. He sounded like himself again. Especially when he whispered out of earshot of his brothers, “They gave me a bit of the salve to take home.”

“Did they? What about a few of those shots? Those would be more than helpful to have so this doesn’t spring up again and get out of hand. I’m so sorry this happened, Rex,” Ahsoka whispered.

He skirted his index finger along the hem of her dress, “Don’t worry about me, Ahsoka. I’m fine. I’ve survived worse attempts on my life.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “I was wondering though… if you’d give me a hand with the salve.” The darkening in his honey colored irises was unmistakable.

Ahsoka feigned any awareness of what he was getting at, “It looks to me like your swelling has gone down.”

“Has it?” he quipped breathily, flicking his eyes down to his lap. The bulge there dried her mouth and directed the moisture elsewhere.

She pressed her lips together to fight off her imminent grin, but the flush in her lekku gave her away. “I’d be happy to give you a hand. Maybe though, from now on we will stick to salves and creams instead of fruit,” she said lowly.

“Oh I beg to differ,” Rex said. “So long as we stick to avedames instead.”

“Deal,” she agreed.

They were broken from their intimate little exchange by the clearing of Echo’s throat. He was standing at the dryer with its door open, a lacy red thong dangling from his scomp hand. “So about that story,” he started.

Rex and Ahsoka both flushed a deep crimson. Their attempts at crafting their earlier cover story had been fruitless.

“Didn’t you say Ahsoka bought the fruit that gave you that reaction?”

Ahsoka was speechless, mortified and looking anywhere but at the former ARC. The man seated next to her wasted no time in taking her hand and interlacing their fingers.

Wrecker gasped.

“Oh please don’t try telling me they’re your—”

But Echo’s words were cut short as Wrecker let out a hearty laugh resembling that of a child with a deep voice. “Rex, no wonder you got that rash if that’s what you’re wearing!”

“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what happened,” Rex said proudly, wincing as he stood and winking at Ahsoka. Wrecker was the only one who bought the absurdly evident lie and Rex strode with a limp to Echo to retrieve the dainty little item. His brother wore a shit-eating grin, not altogether surprised that his Captain and Commander had developed such a relationship.

Rex beckoned for Ahsoka to follow him into the temperate Pabu night and she fell into a fit of giggles once the door closed, “Rex you did not have to do that for me!”

“Of course I did,” he smiled, shrugging. “I owed it to you if buying that little number was even as half as embarrassing as that back there was.” The red lace was threaded around his fingers and stuffed into his pants pocket.

Ahsoka hummed.

“You like that?” he teased, pressing a chaste kiss to her montral. She nodded against his lips, taking his arm. “Good. You’re wearing them for me tomorrow. As soon as my dick is clear I’m finishing what we started.”

She shook her head in laughter and in disbelief at how lucky she was. They were finally where they both wanted to be and had the rest of their lives to express their love in any and every form. The air was salty, the waves lapped at the island, and lights decorated every inch of land they could see. Spring flowers were in full bloom. It was still a perfect day. “Where are we going on this fine evening?” she asked, rubbing his bicep.

Rex pointed to a house with a little blue roof, “Phee Genoa’s place.”

“How come? I’m pretty sure she asked you quite specifically to stop thanking her.”

“That’s not exactly what we are visiting for, though I do plan on sneaking in another thanks.”

“Then what?”

He smiled and stopped in the ambiently lit street, tracing the braids of her headdress and touching the new stones that had been added. “Well, she set the boys up with their own house, didn’t she? I’d like to ask her for one for us. So that I can grow fruit that I’m not deathly allergic to in our garden and share avedame wine with you, take you in every room of the house, and bake naked if we must.”

Ahsoka found her eyes hot with tears for a second time that day, this time with a smile wobbling on her lips. “We must.”

#rexsoka #rexsoka fic #rexsoka monthly #february 2024: give me a reason #my fic #fruitful fruitless #ahsokathegray

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makeste · 11 months

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Just out of pure curiosity, isn't this a horrible way to experience the story lmao?

I'm not saying it's for everyone, but it's worked for me personally so far. more than I would have expected, tbh!

honestly though, this might sound kind of backwards, but a big part of my decision to read these chapters early had more to do with me NOT wanting to be spoiled. let me explain.

I went on hiatus from the BnHA manga beginning in January 2022. I remained completely spoiler-free for almost eight whole months without the slightest issue. then August happened. :')

the thing is, despite my taking a break from the manga, I didn't stop reading fanfiction. in fact I probably read more fic than I usually do, because I missed the series and the characters. it may sound odd that I had the time to read fic but couldn't use that same time to catch up with the manga instead, but they're very different things as far as mental load and time commitment. one is very passive, almost relaxed, while the other requires me to be quick-witted and mentally engaged (at least if I want to do a halfway decent job). something which I wasn't really capable of being at the time. so yeah.

anyway so at the time I generally thought of fanfic as a relatively safe activity, spoiler-wise. and to be fair it was. right up until the single most popular character in the series fucking DIED in the most grisly way possible while fighting the main villain, right in the middle of everyone's fucking summer break. after which pretty much the entirety of fandom erupted into "BAKUGOU DIED??!" and "HE DIED THINKING ABOUT IZUKU??!" and "BABY BOY WANTED ALL MIGHT TO SIGN HIS TRADING CARD?!?!" and "RAIN!?!?" etc. etc. pretty much 24/7 on all social platforms for weeks on end.

so what I learned from that experience is that no matter how good you are at dodging spoilers, it is literally impossible to do so when something THAT momentous and life-altering happens your favorite character who also happens to be fandom's most beloved blorbo. hell, I didn't even get spoiled on AO3 initially; they got me over on YouTube of all places. literally nothing I could do to prevent it. and after that, no matter how meticulously I avoided all of the fics tagged with "362: Light Fades to Rain spoilers", I still kept getting caught off guard because people would casually drop spoilers into untagged fics as well. so I had a bunch of additional little details spoiled for me unexpectedly and I was pretty much defenseless against it. pretty much the only way I could have avoided it all would have been to stop reading Kacchan whump entirely. which, idk about you, but to me that would have been a far more horrible fate. :p

anyway so fast forward to last month, and Kacchan finally came back, and you bet your ass I spoiled myself for it immediately. because I knew it would still take me forever to get caught up The Right Way, and in the meantime I would once again be leaving myself at the mercy of the internet. at least this way I have control over where and when and how I find out. and I got to experience the moment via the manga itself, rather than a third party. and I have to say, this way was vastly preferable to the alternative.

and at the end of the day that's pretty much the same rationale I had for giving in and reading 404 - 406 as well. I knew that once Kacchan was back, the pace of the Final Battle was going to start picking up, and things were going to start happening, and I'd rather read all of those things for myself! like just for example, there's close to a 100% chance the "Kacchan" line from this week would have been spoiled for me in someone's fic if I hadn't read 406 beforehand. just little things like that. anyway so this way, no matter what happens to Kacchan and Deku from this point forward, I'll get to read it fresh and experience it in a way that I unfortunately never got to with the chapter 362 moment. and so to me, that's more than worth the trade-off.

#bnha 406 #bnha 362 #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #and honestly these last few chapters have been so self-contained #and focused pretty much exclusively on this one battle #that there really haven't been *that* many spoilers for other things #and the few things I don't yet have context for have been easy enough to piece together even without #so yeah all in all it really hasn't been that bad #and still hoping to finish catching up within a few weeks' time so then this will all be moot

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waterme-stories · 7 months

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Hope Is A Thing With Feathers, day 25

Twenty-eight times Nathan Summers had to watch Wade Wilson die (and the one time he made sure it would never happen again). A drabble collection for @febuwhump 2024

~~~

Nathan Summers/Wade Wilson, Mature, whump, graphic depictions of canon-typical violence, Wade dies a lot (no like a lot), emotional abuse, drowning

~~~

day 25: waterboarding

The next time Nate sees Wade — well, back up, the next time Nate hears Wade, he’s upside down with water flooding his nasal cavities. The single brain cell that isn’t screaming drowning-dying-fuck-fuck-fuck thinks: Hey, isn’t the gurgle at the next table over a little familiar?

He honestly wasn’t sure he’d escape this one. But as soon as he hears Wade, he just knows he’s getting them home. How is mere technicality.

Later, when they’re warm and dry and safe, he holds Wade tight.

“Never letting you leave,” he murmurs into Wade’s neck. “Never again.”

In his sleep, Wade snuggles closer.

~~~

⇒⇒⇒ Start at Chapter 1 ⇐⇐⇐

~~~

← Day 24 || Day 26 →

#hope is a thing with feathers fic // read on Ao3

#hope is a thing with feathers fic #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday25 #my work #cablepool #cable #deadpool #nathan summers #wade wilson #whump #whump writing #hurt/no comfort #major character death

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wyvchard · 2 months

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Whumperless Whump Event 2024 Master List

Content Warnings for Each One Appear at the start of each entry. Those marked (IEYTD) are short fanfics for the game "I Expect You to Die".

Day 1: Emergency First Aid: Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.” Link Day 2: Does your insurance cover this?: Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.” Link Day 3: Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?” Link

Day 4: It's every day bro: Chronic pain / “I'm used to it.” Link

Day 5: Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / “I'll count, you just breathe.” Link

Day 6: Summer is a curse: “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?” Link

Day 7: Accidental Cryotherapy: Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.” Link

Day 8: Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / “I can close the curtains…” Link

Day 9: White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?” Link

Day 10: Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / “…sit down, I'm calling HR.” Link

Day 11: A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.” Link

Day 12: It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 13: It's just a pebble: Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.” Link

Day 14: Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.” Link

Day 15: I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 16: Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / “You would never say that in your right mind…” Link (IEYTD)

Day 17: In hot water: Dangerously high fever / “We have to get that number down somehow.” Link

Day 18: I don't see it: Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.” Link

Day 19: The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?” Link (IEYTD)

Day 20: It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 21: Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.” Link

Day 22: Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / “I got your hair, it's fine.” Link

Day 23: Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?” Link

Day 24: Be one with the fish: Drowning / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!” Link

Day 25: We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / “I know it hurts. Breathe.” Link

Day 26: That's no barn spider: Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.” Link

Day 27: What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 28: Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / “It's just me, go back to sleep.” Link

Day 29: Wrong place, wrong time: One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.” Link

Day 30: I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--” Link (IEYTD)

Day 31: Only way out is through: Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.” Link

#my writings #whumperless whump event #Wyvie Writes

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whump-me · 9 months

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Conquest, Chapter 24: What Cowardice Looks Like

Chapter 24 of Conquest, a novel-length fantasy whump story about a timid royal clerk captured by the disgraced prince who needs their help to rule their newly conquered country. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: fantasy setting, nonbinary whumpee, male whumper, defiant whumpee, royal whumper, reluctant whumper, emotional whump, thoughts of death, aftermath of watching some really bad things

---

Miranelis

Miranelis sat wedged in the corner of the stall. The straw under them was filthy. It smelled of weeks’ worth of their own waste, from before they had been taken into the palace. The months away had lessened the smell, but it hadn’t cleared it away entirely. And now they were adding fresh odors on top of the old ones.

They had fresh wounds, too, on top of their old scars. Gyoras had treated the wounds with that same salve of his. They were healing faster than the others had, and there were no signs of infection. But every time they moved, they felt another scab strain and pop free. Sometimes blood would leak out onto the straw.

There was always pain. Maybe there always would be. That brief time in the room in the palace, when the pain had begun to fade… that had been a brief illusion. Maybe it had never happened.

Now they had returned to reality. They should always have known this was how it would end. They should never have let themselves believe in that sedating dream.

But the pain barely mattered. Not compared to the memory of the flames.

They saw those flames every moment now, waking and sleeping. It didn’t help that they had nothing to distract them. For days now—six days, by their count—no one had come for them, not since they had gotten back from that trip. Even if they had, though, Miranelis couldn’t imagine anything that would drive that image from their mind.

The flames. Seven hundred years of history, gone. Dozens of lives, perhaps hundreds, obliterated. The smell of smoke on the wind, and under it, a hint of charred flesh.

From the carriage, as they rode away from the flames, Miranelis had imagined they could hear the screams of the dying. The sound probably hadn’t been real. They had been too far away by then, with that thick stone wall to separate them. But that hadn’t stopped the sound from piercing through to their brain. It was the same sound they had heard in the pantry, curled against the wall with their knees up to their chin. And that sound, like the sight of the flames, hadn’t left them since.

The memory of the moment before the flames had been worse. From their position kneeling on the carriage floor, they hadn’t been able to see much. Mostly just sky, and the upper stories of the building, the curtain fluttering, terrified eyes peeking out for a second at a time. But they had seen Kezul, just before he gave his order. Kezul standing before his Wolves, tall and broad, looking exactly like his father. In that moment, even their voice had been the same.

Every time they thought about the summer months, their days in the throne room conspiring with Kezul, they thought they might vomit. How had Kezul ever convinced them to help him? How had they ever thought they were helping their people, and not just saving their own miserable life?

Maybe, for a while, they had been. Maybe Kezul had meant everything he said. Miranelis doubted it, because how could a person change so much in so little time? How could a conqueror with bloody hands turn around and ask humbly how to help feed the starving? And how could that benevolent ruler turn and bloody his hands once again? But even if that were true, even if Kezul had meant it, it didn’t matter. As soon as Kezul’s father had appeared, the rules of that brief summer had no longer applied. The academy had burned, and Miranelis had watched, helpless. Smelling the flesh of the dead as they cooked. Hearing their dying screams.

Knowing themselves for a traitor.

They wouldn’t have been able to stop it if they had tried. And yet, even if they had seen an opportunity, they knew they wouldn’t have tried. They were a coward as much as a traitor. If they hadn’t been, they would have died long before now, and spared themselves this pain.

Their decision to help Kezul had never been the courageous decision. And they had never held any power here. It had been cruel of Kezul to ever convince them otherwise.

But that should have come as no surprise. Cruelty was in Kezul’s blood.

Lost in thought, Miranelis didn’t hear the stable door open. They didn’t hear the footsteps heading toward their stall. Only when the door swung open on its creaky hinges did their head jerk up.

Kezul stood in the stall with them.

The image of that horrible moment came back to Miranelis. Kezul standing before his army. Kezul looking so much like his father that there might as well not have been a difference between them.

Miranelis cringed back against the wall without meaning to do it, an animal reaction. A second later, they looked down at themselves, and felt sick at the cowardice and lack of self-control betrayed in even such small actions.

Miranelis’s gaze darted up to see Kezul looking at them like they were a particularly ugly rat skittering across the straw. “I thought you were above that kind of cringing,” he said, his voice as hard and unyielding as stone. As his father’s.

“I should have known better,” he continued. “So you found a single spark of courage in a sparring session. So you had a few ideas that seemed useful at first. You’re still the same person who hid in a closet when your friends, your queen, were being slaughtered.”

“And what would you call the ones who slaughtered them?” Miranelis asked quietly, even as they pressed themselves harder against the rough slats of the stable wall. “What would you call a person who ordered the Poets’ Academy burned, for no reason, with no warning?”

They didn’t know how they found the strength to say any of that, instead of prostrating themselves at Kezul’s feet and begging forgiveness for some imagined crime. It was what they felt like doing, cringing away, begging Kezul not to kill them. But the thought of doing that made them sicker than the thought of what Kezul would do if he didn’t like what they had to say.

Not that it mattered. No words mattered now. Not when they had lacked the courage and the power to stop him in the only moment that counted.

“Everything we did together,” they continued, even as they looked away from Kezul’s face and stared down at the straw, following the Naskori custom. “You undid it all. Why go to all the trouble of following my advice, if it never mattered to you enough to commit to it? You and I both know it would have been easier for you to burn everything down from the beginning.”

“I was never here to help Danelor,” Kezul said shortly. “I was here to rule it. Vorhullin the Unmaker knows how to do that better than a timid clerk.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Miranelis asked.

“What?” When Miranelis looked up, Kezul looked like he was going to be sick.

“Watching the academy burn,” Miranelis said. “Did you enjoy it? Did it make you feel powerful? Because I know how working together made you feel. We said starving people—your own army among them. And whatever you say now, you liked that—I know you did. What did burning the academy do? Nothing for Danelor, so it must have done something for you.” To their own surprise, they heard the beginnings of anger in their voice, even though they knew better than to provoke a fight. They tried to stop talking, and found that they couldn’t. “So how did it feel? What made it so much better?”

Kezul’s hand crept toward his sword. His fingers closed around the hilt. Miranelis cringed back further against the wall, until the rusty nails poked into their the scabs of their injured back. They stared up at him, forgetting to look down, and saw only their own death approaching.

They wondered, in a dim and distant way, why they didn’t regret saying what they had said.

Then Kezul’s grip loosened on the sword hilt. He slumped sideways against the wall between the stall and the next, like all of a sudden he needed it to hold him up. “I’m sorry.”

Miranelis would have thought they had misunderstood, if not for the way Kezul held their gaze as he said it.

“Did you just apologize to me?” There was so much they could have said to that. So much they wanted to ask. Like why they thought an apology would matter next to the lives they had taken, the progress they had undone. But they were too stunned by Kezul’s words to say any of it.

“I’m sorry for making you think things could have gone differently,” Kezul clarified. “It was always an illusion. A pipe dream. It would never have worked.”

“It was working. Until you ruined it.” He paused. “Until your father came.”

“Yes,” said Kezul. “My father. He would always have come to see how well I had done on his test. It was my mistake for not understanding what he wanted from me. I was so busy trying to prove myself, I forgot to ask myself what he would want to see.”

“So if you had known he wanted the academies burned, you would have burned them? If you had known he wanted the people to starve, you would have let them starve?”

“Do you think it matters?” Kezul’s voice came out hard and angry, making Miranelis involuntarily try to press themselves even tighter against the wall. But they couldn’t scoot back any further. There was nowhere else to go.

“It was always going to happen this way sooner or later,” Kezul said. “I could have done it from the beginning. I didn’t. So he came in and ordered it. In the end, there’s no difference.”

“He didn’t give the order,” Miranelis said. “You did. I was there.”

“And what do you think would have happened if I hadn’t? The academy still would have burned.”

“I didn’t think you, of all people, would admit to having no power.”

One of Kezul’s hands clenched into a fist. The other reached for his sword again. But he stopped himself. His jaw tightened. He took a breath, and another.

He looked down at the straw.

“I need your help,” he said, in a voice so low and… and scared… that Miranelis could hardly believe it had come from him.

“You need my help,” Miranelis repeated disbelievingly.

“To answer your question, no, I didn’t enjoy it,” said Kezul. “Not at all. Lying in bed at night, I can still hear the screams. It was worse than war. In battle, at least both sides have a chance.”

Maybe Miranelis should have felt sympathy. They felt none. Not for the one who had ordered the academy burned in the first place. What did it matter if he heard the screams of the dying? He should hear them. He should hear them for the rest of his life.

“I don’t want to rule this way,” said Kezul. “I want to go back to what we were doing before. But to do that, we need a way around my father. He’ll never let us do it otherwise.” He looked up from the straw. His pleading eyes—Kezul, pleading—met theirs.

“I came to you the last time I didn’t have any ideas,” Kezul said. “And you helped me work miracles. Help me again now. I don’t see a solution—but I didn’t see a solution when I first sat on that throne, either. You found me one.”

Miranelis swallowed down the words they wanted to say. “It may already be too late,” said Miranelis. “Who will trust you now, knowing what you ordered?” Against their will, their brain started working, the way it had during their sessions with Kezul in the throne room—walking down potential paths, seeing if there were answers at the end of any of them. “But… they may not know who ordered it. You said you would let people leave to spread the word, but I was watching. No one got out.” He shot Kezul a brief accusing look, then forced themselves not to go down that path. They had to focus. “If we can blame it on your father…”

Then only Miranelis would know the truth. Kezul would be blameless in everyone else’s eyes. But Miranelis could think about that later. If there was a chance… if there was even the slightest chance…

“If they blame your father,” said Miranelis, “you’ll be a hero if you’re the one to get rid of him. Then all you need to do is convince him to leave. And if you can’t do that…”

Their voice trailed off. Even though Kezul had asked, they didn’t know whether it was acceptable to say the words aloud. And there was the matter of the guards outside the stable. Probably too far away to hear, but still.

“That’s not possible,” Kezul said, in a voice that left no room for disagreement.

“We can’t work against him. Not while he’s here. What would it take to make him leave?”

“Nothing,” said Kezul, in that same voice. “He wants to be here. Until I’ve proven myself to him. Until…” Now Kezul’s voice was the one to trail off.

“Until you break me the way he wants me broken,” said Miranelis. “That’s the new test, isn’t it?”

“We can’t get rid of him,” Kezul continued. “Nothing stops my father from getting he wants, and no one can change what he wants. We need to find a way to work against him while he’s here.”

“How?” Miranelis demanded. “Do you plan to meet with the heads of the noble houses late at night? Sneak them into the stable, maybe? While during the day, you burn their villages and kill the people they love?”

“I don’t know!” Kezul burst out. He took a breath and spoke more quietly. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. You saved me before. Please—save me again. Save yourself. Save Danelor.”

Miranelis took a long breath of their own as they thought. But they already knew there was no answer to this one. None but the one they had already given. “I told you what needs to happen.”

“If he won’t leave, then get rid of him another way.”

The stall was suddenly, utterly still. Miranelis couldn’t hear Kezul breathing anymore. The air didn’t seem to move. Miranelis couldn’t have spoken if they had wanted to. They weren’t sure they themselves were breathing.

“That’s not possible,” Kezul finally said.

He had said it wasn’t possible, Miranelis noted. He hadn’t gotten angry at Miranelis for the suggestion. He hadn’t said he didn’t want to. He hadn’t said it was unacceptable, cruel, obscene. Just not possible. That meant something.

But it didn’t matter. Because it meant Kezul wasn’t willing to do what was necessary.

“Find another way,” Kezul said. His voice shook. Was he begging?

“I told you what you needed to do,” Miranelis repeated. “How badly do you want this? Do you want this? Or are you just feeling guilty now that you have to look me in the eye?”

“I want it,” said Kezul. “I want it back—what we were doing before. I don’t know how it went so wrong…”

“Yes, you do. It went wrong when you started kneeling at your father’s feet, doing whatever he asked.”

“You don’t understand my father.”

“I don’t need to,” said Miranelis. He felt a sharp burst of anger, but just as quickly, it settled into a curdled pit of disgust. “I understand you. I had it wrong all along. I’m not the coward here. You are.”

Kezul’s hands curled into fists again. “You’re asking me to go up against—”

“Your father,” Miranelis interrupted. “And he scares you. That’s the issue here, isn’t it? How many lives are you willing to sacrifice for that fear? Because that’s what you’re doing. You should at least be honest with yourself about it. And with me. You owe me that much.”

Kezul’s face twisted into an ugly expression. He looked like a twisted mirror of his father. His face had the same deep crags. Miranelis had the sense that they were getting a look at what Kezul would look like when he was older and meaner. But Miranelis had never seen this sort of rage on the Unmaker’s stern face.

“I gave you a way to help your people,” said Kezul. “You think you can turn around and ask me to make war on Kyollen Naskor itself?”

“You gave me a way to help them because it also helped you. And then you took it away.” They forced themselves to their feet on aching legs. How long has it been since they had moved from their corner? They couldn’t remember. “Maybe you don’t want to hear what I have to say. But right now, I’m not interested in you have to say either. What else do I have to lose? You asked me for an answer. I gave you one. You know I’m capable of giving you good advice. If you don’t want to follow it this time, you know who’s to blame for that.”

“Shut up.” Kezul’s face twisted further, until it was unrecognizable. “I came here for help—help that will benefit both of us. I did not come here to be insulted.”

“You came here for a way to get appease your conscience without losing your father’s approval,” Miranelis corrected. “I can’t give you that. And now we both know which you want more.”

Even though he they were openly goading him, they were still surprised when the blow came.

They didn’t see Kezul’s hands move. They only felt the hard thump as they landed on their back, hard enough to drive the wind out of them. Then they were staring up at the roof of the stable. Sunlight peeked through the rough slats.

Kezul stood over them, fists clenched, but he didn’t strike them again. “My father was right.” His voice almost sounded like his father’s. Almost. But the Unmaker wouldn’t have allowed his voice to tremble like that. “You don’t understand your own defeat. It’s time that changed.” As he turned around, he added, “Since you don’t seem to be useful for anything else anymore.”

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @halloiambored @whump-in-the-closet @whump-cravings @sunshiline-writes @annablogsposts @whither-wander-whump @seaweed-is-cool @bloodinkandashes @sonder35 @cakeinthevoid @looptheloup

#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Conquest #fantasy whump #royal whump #nonbinary whumpee #aftermath

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