#to clarify my brother is 10+ years older than me

[fearfulachilles]

10. secrets.

chapter ten to buop (nanami kento x reader jjk medical au.) .

full contents here.

summary: yu haibara hosts a poker night. yuji admits a secret he’s kept from you.

warning: sexual scenes.

You.

it's getting better

You fell asleep for no less than 30 minutes, waking up to see Kento had already texted you. It's almost endearing how soon he contacted you. It's blatant that Kento doesn't engage in hook-up culture like you and those your age do.

Kento.

I'd like to see you again.

The age gap between you two becomes even more transparent with his text. It's far different than the usual text saying 'you up? wyd?' that you're used to receiving around 11:30 PM from other guys. There are still a couple of hours before Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara come back from work, you have nothing better to do, and you've had sex at weirder times than in the middle of the day.

You.

same :) when?

Kento stares at your text as he sits in a communal office that physicians have access to, located a couple of stories above the ground level. Usually, the ones on-call or waiting in between surgeries will work on miscellaneous tasks in a communal office, which was what he was doing until he received news that his last surgery of the day was canceled. He relaxes back into the swivel chair, his legs spreading wide and his eyes not moving from his phone screen. He was worried he'd made the wrong move by texting you so soon, and the 30 minutes of waiting for a reply felt longer than all his years in med school.

Kento.

Tonight? I can pick you up.

“Kento!”

The blond surgeon already knows who's creeping up behind him. It's his fault, he left the door open. Though, it could be worse, it could be Dr. Gojo.

“Hello, Yu.” Kento turns in the swivel chair and looks up at his approaching friend.

Yu leans against the doorframe. “I invited Satoru and Suguru to my place for poker tonight! We'll have some beers—juice for Satoru— and snacks, it's gonna be fun. Care to join?”

Kento looks down at this phone, the screen still lit and bright, your few messages displayed. “Uh, yeah, I might be able to...”

Yu has no sense of personal boundaries, it's how he's managed to squeeze his way into Kento's life enough to the point of almost becoming his brother-in-law. Still, Yu prides himself on being a good friend and doesn't let a failed wedding keep him from being one. The brunet doctor reads your name from the top of Kento's screen.

“Hey, isn't that one of the new scribes? Suguru mentioned her. Wait, are you and her—”

“Yu.” Kento interrupts his friend before he can finish his sentence.

He stops and smiles down at the sitting man, wiggling his brows. His prying would be less tolerable if Kento hadn't endured med school with Yu by his side, or if Satoru was the one doing the prying. “Oh, is it a secret?”

“No, it's nothing.” Kento clarifies.

Yu winks at his friend, giving him a thumbs-up. “Got it, 'nothing.'”

A small sigh escapes Kento's lips, his brain turning over with an oncoming headache already.

“You know, you could tell me anything, Kento,” Yu says lowly, sounding more serious than heard before. Yu’s glad his close friend seems to be moving on, he had begun worrying about Kento in the last couple of months. “I know I'm Asami's brother, but that doesn't mean I'm not your friend.”

“I appreciate that.” Kento smiles small.

The men stay in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Yu turns on his heel and walks away, shouting out that he'll see him later. Silence fills the small office again until a small ding comes from Kento's phone.

You.

you don't have to do that

i can drive myself lol

your place?

_________

Kento makes it home an hour later and texts you to come when you want to. You leave half an hour later, not wanting to appear eager.

You've never hooked up with an older man, Choso was the oldest that you've been with and that's only by a few years. Even with a few years difference, Choso was a lot more tending than guys your age. But Kento was on a different level.

Kento was much older, but it showed in different ways.

He was patient and accommodating for your pleasure, not just his. His hands touched you in a way that was more than just to touch you, he was mapping every inch of your body, memorizing which spots make you weak and your skin rise. The same hands you've seen him use to examine his patients and imagined during surgery—big and steady as he handles a human heart with care, are holding your hips, his thumbs firmly pressing into your hip bones, as you bounced on his dick.

Your clothes were discarded after a long and heated make-out session that took place minutes after you arrived, leaving you completely bare inside Kento's home. It's an expensive apartment with an open floor plan for the kitchen and living room; from what you can remember, the bedroom was spacious too. He had giant windows in the living room that were covered with giant curtains, keeping you and Kento shielded as you sat on his cock on his new couch.

Kento was so hard, you felt him deep in your core, and you clawed at his shoulders with each drag of your hips. His fingers move to your ass, both of his hands grabbing onto your flesh and spreading it, making your hole swallow his cock in even more.

“Your pussy's so perfect,” Kento's in awe, his genuine words make you shiver. “So perfect, I fit right in.”

You rolled your hips into him, moaning as you felt the head of his dick rub against your sweetest spot. He lets you fuck yourself on him, his mind buzzing with feeling the softness of your tits press against his bare chest and your ass on his thighs. Feeling your body against his felt as good as having his dick buried deep in you.

“Fits so good,” you pant heavily. You lick your lips, your eyes fluttering close, and move faster. You drop your hips, shoving his curved cock right into your hole and squealing at the fullness you felt before doing it again and again. “So good.”

Kento's stretching you out, your pussy lips spread thin around him, feeling his thick dick slip in and out of you with every move of your hips. You whine when you feel your clit twitch in negligence, but Kento's quick to note your pretty noise and starts rubbing circles on your twitching clit. You're getting his life-saving, medically talented hand drenched with your wetness as he massages your nub.

“Mhmm—fuck, I-I think ‘m gunna cum,” you plead breathlessly, losing your words throughout your moans.

Kento sighs into your ear, he sounds so pleased that you're close to squirting your essence all over his lap and couch.

You're not used to this sensation, the threat of overspilling building and building inside. Your thighs are tired and sore from slamming down on Kento’s cock, but you chase the fire in your lower belly. Most guys your age would take this as a sign to go harder, faster, and completely fuck up your rhythm. Kento keeps steady, one hand hangs lowly on your hip, his notably larger size making you melt, and the other pressing against your swollen clit.

You rub up against the pads of his fingers, the curve of his cock's head dragging against your g-spot makes you drop your head back. You moan towards the very high ceiling of his home, your vision going white as you clench around his girth. His teeth scrape against your exposed neck, licking at your damp skin.

He gives you no time to recover from your orgasm. Kento matches your momentum, fucking his hips up into you, the back of your thighs slapping against his harshly. He can feel your body shake and vibrate as the tip of his cock bullies your cervix again.

You go limp, resting against his strong chest, your arms wrapping around his neck and losing your hands at the top of his hair. You swallow thickly, strung-out moans following.

He holds your body, cradling the crown of your head as his other soiled hand guides your hips, pushing you down on him as he moves up to thrust into you. He’s moving you how he needs you, using your cunt for himself like you were using him. You’re moaning so desperately against his clear-cut jawline, a complete babbling mess.

“Fuck, yes—oh god,” you slur out, your hot breath on his jaw. You’re completely fucked out, you move your hand to Kento’s cheek, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss and he kisses you back. Your hand cups the side of his face, feeling the structure and shape of his face in your palm.

Your cum smears along his dick, white rings forming at the base while the rest of his length presses its shape inside of you. You can feel when Kento makes a mess inside of you and paints your walls with his hot cum. You can feel each drop of it filling you up to the brim.

Kento kisses your cheek and your temple and then kisses your lips. You're dazed, mindlessly kissing back each time until you feel his lips on yours. He's so strong he makes you feel like you're putty in his hands, melting through his fingers as he leans your body in his arms and moves you to lay on your back on the couch. His hands are far too gentle with you to be considered manhandling. His cock slips out of you and your hole's empty, Kento's cum slowly begins dripping out.

You should've known Kento wouldn't be done with you after just one time.

He pressed your knees towards your chest with his strong arms. He sighs, a pussy-wetting sound emitting from deep in his throat as he reinvites his wet cock back inside your gaping hole, pushing past your shiny pussy lips. You gasp loudly and press the back of your head against the soft and expensive material of his couch. His movements are slow until his groin nuzzles against your ass.

Kento steadies his body over yours, pulling his hips back until the head of his dick almost falls out of you, and pushes himself back inside, your pussy fluttering around him the entire time.

You're poison to him, you're an addiction, and he can only think about making his presence inside of you known by leaving an indentation of his cock's shape into your walls. He knows he can't because you mold so perfectly around him every time, adjusting to his thick size and letting him get engulfed by your cunt. There's no bad position with you, so he wants to try them all.

Your breasts bounce with every snap of his hips, and his cock shines with your slick only to disappear in between your legs seconds later, then repeats. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and Kento catches a glimpse of it, his eyes traveling down to your throat as you thickly swallow your pretty scream. Your hair is sprawled out on his couch cushions, your skin contrasts against the color of it.

“Beautiful,” Kento says, but you've gone deaf and don't register his words.

Kento hooks his arms under your knees, your nails dig into his forearm as his body weight presses against you and his hips grind into you. Your vision goes blurry when you feel a hand roll your perked nipple between his fingers. He lavishes your jaw, his hot tongue wetting your flesh and making your body shiver.

You can only focus on a couple of things: Kento's cock reaching new spots within you and the noises that came from it.

Your pussy's overflowing, a river of Kento's cum, yours, and your arousal are getting fucked out of you, wetting your inner thighs and splattering against Kento's navel as he relentlessly thrusts in you. Each squeezed-out strand of slick making it past your deeply stuffed hole comes out loudly, hearing your juices squelching with every drag of his dick made you feel dirty and embarrassed, and you liked it.

“Mhm, ‘m wet, so wet,” you’re barely able to piece together a sentence. You’re too full of Kento’s dick to think clearly.

“Fuck,” he curses, swiping his tongue along his pink lips.

Your body tightens, your lower abdomen twists, your toes curl, and your pussy clenches around Kento’s thick cock. You feel yourself cum around him again, you gasp before whining, turning your head to the side to try to hide your face away from Kento’s eyes.

He doesn’t let you. He cups your chin and easily makes you look back at him. He doesn’t have to say anything, you keep your eyes on him, half-lidded and dark.

Kento’s hips smack into you, erupting a pretty sound out of your lips. Your legs are shaking and you're fighting the urge to push Kento away as the overstimulated pain and pleasure mix so nicely within your core. You're not controlling your breathing or your noises.

It’s like an aftershock, feeling Kento fuck through his orgasm unintentionally causes you to cum again, your body still reacting to your previous orgasm. Your pussy was just so sensitive, you couldn't keep from cumming again so quickly.

There's a moment of quiet, the only sounds were of you and Kento regaining a normal breathing pace. You feel some of your hair stick to the side of your sweaty face, you try to blow it off by huffing your breath towards the stuck hair, but it doesn't work.

Kento's chest rumbles with a soft chuckle then moves his hand to brush away the loose strands bothering you.

“Thanks,” you say very lightly, your voice just above a whisper. Your eyes stare up at him, long flashes flush against your brow bone.

“No problem,” Kento whispers back. His large fingers move down to your chin, he caresses it with his thumb before moving his hand away from your face completely.

The warmth of Kento's body leaves its place above you as he pulls away, his cock dragging out of you, making every drop he's poured inside come out. He mumbles that he'll grab something to clean you with, and walks towards his bedroom. He's naked too, his shirt and pants messily thrown somewhere on the floor.

You slowly raise yourself to sit up on the couch, catching your bottom lip between your teeth as you feel the after-effects of sleeping with Kento. Your legs feel wobbly and you're sore at your hips from keeping the spread open for as long as you did.

Kento returns to the living room with a towel for you to use to wipe the leaking wetness between your legs. He's kind enough to turn around and give you privacy, and a whole view to his bare ass. You stare at it as you clean yourself.

You look down at the mess in between your thighs and notice you haven't been wiping where you needed to. You reach for the shining wetness, gathering some of it on your fingertips, then rubbing it between your forefinger and thumb. You've never been so wet before, you've never cum like that before—or at all before Kento. You've been close to orgasming before, but no one's quite pushed you over the edge like this.

“Are you hungry?” Kento asks, still facing away from you.

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You quickly wipe yourself clean before using the untainted parts of the towel to cover bits of your body. A sudden stomach growl is heard and it's coming from you.

“That answers that,” Kento's voice sounds like it's coming from a smile, but you can't see if it is. “I can cook something up.”

“Oh, no, no, it's okay,” you rush to stand up, your eyes scanning the floor for your clothes. “I'm not even that hungry, I can find something to eat at home.”

Grabbing your shirt and pants, you quickly put them on. Kento doesn't say anything in return, but he hears you shuffling around. He picks up his clothes from the ground and places them on too.

It's already the evening, nearing dinnertime. The sun is setting the sky is quickly turning dusk. Kento insists on walking you down to the entrance of his building and he wasn't taking no for an answer, much like with your parking ticket and paying for your lunch.

“I'll see you around at work.” You say at the beginning of your departure.

He wants to kiss you. You fixed your hair so it didn't seem too blatant that you had been fucked to the point of forgetting how to speak, but your swollen lips had yet to return to normal. The ombré sky outlines you like a painting.

“Or sooner,” Kento replies, exhaling with a small smile.

You smile at his response. “Hope so.”

The way you look up at him when you say your words, it’s luring him in with temptation, Kento was ready to pull you back to his home and fuck you all over again. You turn on your heel too quickly before he gets the chance to do so.

When you get inside your car, you notice you're not wearing a bra underneath your shirt. It's odd because you were wearing one when you left your home today. You look back at Kento's building from the front car seat, huffing to yourself. Great, you left your bra in his living room. You don't have the energy to make your way up to his floor to ask for it back, so you just drive home instead.

_________

You smell take-out food as soon as you open your front door. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi sit together in the living room with noodles hanging from each of their mouths.

“And where have you been?” Nobara questions immediately. “We come home after a long day's work and you're missing.”

Yuji swallows down the food in his throat, coughing before he joins in. “Yeah, we've been worried sick!”

You reach for your phone in your pocket and check the notifications—none. You purse your lips at them. “Not worried enough to text and ask me.”

“We didn't want to interrupt your time with Dr. Nanami.” Megumi answers, then continues eating as if he hadn't spoken. Yuji and Nobara agree with him.

“I wasn't with him,” you begin, but you see no use as the faces of your roommates remain the same, not believing you. “Okay, I was, but it's the last time.”

The three of them hum together, creeping you out as well as making you roll your eyes. You go to your room to leave your bag and return to be with your roommates. They motion towards the plates of take-out food in the kitchen, telling you to get some food before Yuji finishes everything.

“Have you thought about what could happen if anyone else found out about you and Dr. Nanami?” Yuji raises the question once you've sat beside Megumi.

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You haven't given it much thought because you don't think it will last long enough to pose a problem like that. You and Kento were just finishing a night that never happened, a night that started in the seat of his car outside the bar.

“Yeah, who do you think they're firing for having an inappropriate relationship: an easily replaceable scribe or a heart surgeon,” Nobara adds.

The thought scares you a little, possibly losing your job if things were to come to light. You push it to the back of your head because it won’t become a problem. “Guys, Kento and I—”

“Who's Kento?”

“Great, first names already.”

“She's doomed.”

They all mutter over each other, making you sigh and roll your lips in your mouth until all three quiet down.

“Dr. Nanami and I won't have a problem, it was just a couple—“You think back, it was only two trips to his place, but did that count, or did the number of times he fucked you in those two trips count? “—it was just a fling. He knows it, I know it, it's done. No one's getting fired.”

This answer seems to calm their worries a lot more than your first attempt earlier.

_________

When Kento returned up to his apartment, he noticed a few text message notifications on his phone screen.

Yu Haibara.

U coming 2nite?

Yu Haibara.

Gojo & Geto R here.

Yu Haibara.

Just lost $100 2 Gojo in poker.

Kento's not certain why Yu would host a poker night, the man couldn't lie to save his life. He sighs, deciding he’ll head over and help his friend out. If you had agreed to let him cook you food, Kento would have ignored the messages.

First, he heads to his living room to pick up the used towels left forgotten on the floor. As he picks up your used towel, he notices a colored garment poking out from under his couch. He picks it up and sees it's your bra. The lacey material is soft against his fingertips, he remembers feeling it under your shirt. He had dragged his fingers against the hem of it when he first slipped his tongue in your mouth before pushing it up and exposing your breasts. He'll wash it so it's clean for you next time.

Kento makes his way to Yu’s residence afterward. It’s all reasonably nearby, from Kento’s building to Yu’s as well as to Jujutsu Hospital. He’s not sure how far you lived, but he knew he shouldn’t expect a text assuring him that you managed to get home safely. He tries to take his mind off the early evening with you. To do so, he becomes determined to win back Yu’s $100, and then some for himself.

Once Kento had won around an extra $150 from Satoru, the white-haired doctor had begun visibly pouting and was unable to hide his tells in poker. Kento read him like a book.

“I could fire him,” Satoru pondered, his long fingers playing with the colorful poker chips.

Suguru hummed, shuffling the cards in his hands. “You won’t be able to find a better cardiovascular surgeon.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair, thudding against the back of it childishly. Kento’s and Yu’s seats were empty during the conversation, having previously excused themselves to go grab drinks for the next round.

“So, did you see her today? That’s why you were late, right?” Yu is prying again.

Kento holds in a sigh. There’s no use in keeping his friend in the dark when he only means well. He knows you both agreed not to tell anyone, but Yu had already found out he was texting you. Reluctantly, Kento nods.

“Yes, I saw her earlier. It was nice.” There are lines Kento won’t cross, and that’s kissing and telling. He’s strictly private with his love life and even more so with his sex life.

His friend smiles wide and genuinely. “That’s great! Is it serious?”

A breath gets lodged in Kento’s throat and he swallows it down. “No,” Kento says quickly. He grabs a beer bottle and effortlessly opens the cap, then takes a small drink.

“You dirty dog, Kento.” Yu teases, chuckling afterward. He knows how to put a positive spin on anything, it’s no wonder why so many women love having him as their doctor. He grabs an extra beer bottle and a canned soda and heads out of the kitchen to dispense the drinks to his other guests.

“Guys~” Satoru sings. Kento lets out that sigh he held in earlier. “Suguru here wants to steal one of our scribes for his surgeries.”

“You want to do surgery on one of the scribes?” Yu asks bewilderedly.

“No, I simply want a scribe to join me in surgery and scribe operative notes. It’ll save me the headache of doing it after.” Suguru explains, then says he wants you to work with him.

“Can you believe him? He wants to steal her. Kento, are you gonna let him do that?” Satoru pesters, wanting someone to say no.

Kento only shrugs his shoulders and takes another drink of his beer. “She’s not mine to keep or give.”

_________

“One of us should start cooking,” you say, feeling full and sluggish from the takeout.

“We should all fend for ourselves,” Nobara suggests in a voice slow.

“You’d be dead in a week,” Megumi says to her. A quiet ow! is heard from Megumi afterward.

“I can cook. I cooked for Yuji and his brothers a few times. Remember, Yuji?” You begin to reminisce, you always were over at Yuji’s house, and as a token of gratitude, you offered to help his grandpa with dinner whenever you stayed late.

“Please, no!” Yuji’s on his knees before you. “You can't cook.”

You’re taken aback by his reaction. You furrow your eyebrows and look at him puzzlingly. “W-what? You loved my cooking, all your brothers did!”

“You almost killed Sukuna with the Christmas dinner you made in high school,” Yuji confesses. He won’t look you in the eye, his head staying bowed as he continues on his knees. He's ashamed the truth is spilling out like this, but he thought he'd never have to eat your food again. “You almost killed me when you cooked salmon for my grandpa’s 71st birthday. I’m worried Kechizu won’t ever hit a growth spurt because of the baked carrots you made.”

Your mouth is agape and you’re blinking slowly. Yuji has to be kidding. None of them ever let on that your dishes were horrible, apparently life-threateningly horrible. Your cheeks turn pink when you notice Nobara and Megumi watching this.

“I don’t get it…” You trail off, eyes casting down. “Choso always said he liked my cooking.”

A couple of months ago you had attempted to cook a stew for dinner and mentioned it to Choso while you were getting dressed in his bedroom, following a quick fuck session. You invited him to try it when it was ready, which he did. He said it was great, delicious even, he finished it before you could eat any of it. But then, you do remember Choso canceling on your next late-night plans for a couple of days following this, but you assumed it was because he was too busy prepping for his upcoming exams.

Yuji laughs, wholeheartedly and purely, and finally looks at you. “Yeah, because he’s always been in love with you. Of course, he’d say that.”

His laughter dies down quietly and quickly when he sees that you’re not laughing with him. Instead, you’re turning white and your face shows how surprised you are to hear that.

“What did you say?” Your throat feels dry, so your words are quiet. You feel your body become cold.

Yuji cringes and then looks around toward Nobara and Megumi as if asking for a lifeline to be saved. Megumi only shakes his head, unaware of the context of this situation, but he can’t imagine it's good. He remembers Yuji talking about his older brother, Choso, the one in med school now. Nobara waits eagerly for Yuji to continue.

“I… sense I’ve made a mistake,” Yuji says carefully, slowly rising to his feet. He begins to back away but you stand up from your seat.

“What did you say?” You ask again, your voice sounding high.

Yuji still attempts to back away, but Megumi and Nobara form a wall behind him, letting you corner him. Yuji looks over his shoulder to his friends, but he’s only met with a gleam in their eyes for this steaming tea, they're too nosy for their own good.

“Choso told me he’d finally confess to you before you moved here, so I-I thought he did.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me about it, like, at all?” You’re still in denial, waiting hopefully for a punchline to this bad joke. “You don’t think Choso would’ve told you that he talked to me?”

“I assumed you rejected him and both of you were embarrassed—I don’t know! He never told you?”

You shake your head, slowly letting yourself sit back down on the couch. There was always something there when you were around Choso, you could tell, but you never thought it was love—real romantic love. For you, it was the familiarity between you and Choso. There was no awkwardness, no need for a front or to constantly shield yourself. It was comfortable, Choso knew you as you were and was a friend, and he wanted you—sexually, physically, nothing more, not like that.

Well, apparently it was like that.

Megumi cuts the tension and reverts to the original topic. “I can cook. I used to cook meals for my sister when she got sick of the hospital food.”

You look up at Megumi from where you sat, your eyes wide at the news just dumped on you. The one who dumped the news on you knelt back to the ground, his head hanging low again.

“I have it on good authority that my cooking won't kill anyone,” Megumi adds. You scrunch your nose at his comment.

“How come you've never offered to cook before?” Nobara snaps at him, her manicured hands on her hips.

Megumi's dark eyebrow twitches at the outer corner. “Maybe because I didn't want to be your personal chef.”

“Well, if the shoe fits!”

“That phrase doesn’t make sense in this situation!”

The two snarl at each other, but their words fade in the background for you.

Choso... was in love with you. Since when? Before or after you started sleeping together? You hadn’t meant to lead him on, you didn’t know you were. He knew who you were, how you dated guys, short and quick with no strings. Or, you thought he knew.

Yuji shuffles his way towards your side, sitting next to you. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry about both situations: lying to you for years about your cooking, and about exposing Choso’s feelings towards you, most likely ruining your relationship with Choso, whatever the relationship may be.

“What about your grandpa?” You ask quietly. “He always ate my food, he’d ask me to help with dinner.”

Yuji softly recoils and then offers you a sympathizing smile. “He was trying to teach you. He told us to ‘power through’ your meals because he liked having you around.”

It makes you chuckle, but it’s short. That old bastard, you’re confronting him next time you’re back home. Maybe you’ll cook something and force him to eat it, then confront him. You cross your arms, forcing yourself to focus on the years of fake acting and lies just to avoid bruising your feelings from Yuji and his family, rather than focusing on Choso being in love with you.

#jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami #kento nanami fluff #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso x you #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #afab reader #break us on purpose #fearfulachilles #buop

[k1ranishf4]

My Lawyer Dio AU

I just want to clarify that I looked the characters up and researched if their birthdays were established. I’m keeping the canon ones and just made up some for those who don’t have a specified birthday.

We all know that Dio finished law school by the time he was 20 or 21 years old and 120/121 by the time Giorno was four. So I’ll just take this and move everything to the “modern” time.

Which basically means that Jonathan and Dio were born in 1967/68 instead of 1867/68.

But first of all, I’d like to specify that Stands still exist and Jonathan has his wonderful Hermit Purple but with roses. I’ll come up with a name later, I guess.

Also, since Jonathan is very much alive, Dio has his own body and is therefore still his canon height (185cm/6 ft 1 in)

To elaborate further:

Jonathan was born on April 4, 1968

He was 20 in Part 1, so I’ll just keep that in this AU as well. Only difference is that it’s 1989.

Now, I like to think that Dio’s older despite coming to the family later, which is really funny. Like, imagine you’re an only child until one day your father adopts a boy who’s like a year older than you and you end up having an older brother who’s the total opposite of you.

Since there’s no specific birthday, I’ll just make something up. Sooo… Dio: January 2, 1967

Obviously, this is also mudad, so I’m keeping his sons’ canon birth dates. But this also brings a few issues, if you will.

Giorno was born on April 16, 1985, which means that Dio was 18 when our Disney Princess was born.

He’s canonically a manwhore and I don’t intend on changing that anytime soon. He simply fucked around a lot in his last year of high school and the entirety of law school and ended impregnating four women.

I’ve checked and there aren’t canon birthdays for the other three, as well. All we know are their birth years. More to come up with for me.

Donatello: March 12, 1987

The thing is, despite being born in the same year, I like the thought of Rikiel being a few months older than Ungalo even tho he’s the local crybaby at home.

Rikiel: February 25, 1988

Ungalo: September 10, 1988

Now, Dio’s not the only one with children and I want to include George II and Erina too. George II’s canon birth year is 1889, so I’ll keep that as well but it’ll mean that Giorno, Donatello, Rikiel and Ungalo are older than him.

Since he doesn’t have a specific birthday, I’ll just add nine months to Jonathan’s canon date of death, which is February 7, 1889.

George II: November 11, 1989

Guess what, Erina also doesn’t have a specified birthday!! We only know that it’s some time in 1869. Hmmmmmm…..

I want her birthday to be in June, to be honest.

Erina: June 26, 1969

Let’s not forget the grandpa, of course. The only thing I’ve found out is that he died in 1888. I want him to be 45, which would mean that he’d be born in 1843.

So, we’ll just take that and move it to the 20th century and we get May 16, 1943.

To summarize:

George I: May 16, 1943

Jonathan: April 4, 1968

Dio: January 2, 1967

Erina: June 26, 1969

Giorno: April 16, 1985

Donatello: March 12, 1987

Rikiel: February 25, 1988

Ungalo: September 10, 1988

George II: November 12, 1989

Let’s get to how our local hoe finds out about his sons. As I’ve already mentioned, Dio was 18 when Giorno was born but he didn’t know and obviously didn’t get custody right then.

It went like this:

Homeboy was sitting in his study in the year 1990 and was going over the most recent case, when one of the butlers came in and delivered a letter.

It was signed by all four of his past flings and it said that all four of them had a son each. They gave him a location to meet ‘cause neither of them really wanted the custody of them. At first, Dio thought that it might be a lie to get money since he’s the adopted son of a famous aristocrat but he also believed that it might be true.

Jonathan found out, because of course he did, and immediately sent a butler to get the car ready so that Dio could go. Dio didn’t have another choice but to do so, since his lovely brother just had to get involved.

Turns out the letter was honest to God and Dio came back with a five-year-old who had pitch black hair, a three-year-old with brown hair and two one-year-olds in his arms, one of which had dark skin and black hair with hot pink highlights styled into locs and the other with unusual pistachio green hair.

Welp, at least George II wouldn’t have to grow up alone🤷 anyway-

George I was delighted to have even more grandsons but he didn’t exactly approve of Dio being a manwhore, since that’s the opposite of how he raised his sons to be.

I want to include D’Arby and Vanilla Ice (as well as Hol Horse and maybe a few others of the Agents of DIO) as Dio’s personal butlers because it’s fun to imagine his sons judging them because of their fanatical loyalty to Dio, but I’m not sure how.

I’ll probably make him move into a different manor maybe four years later, where he has his own (canon) butlers/servants, whatever you want to call them. But I’ll obviously let them stay in England, a grandpa and an uncle want to see the kids, okay?

Dio still has his shithead asshole personality but he doesn’t go as far as wanting to kill his adoptive family and trying to claim the inheritance via vampirism, to the point where he literally wants to achieve heaven.

Nah, this man cares for them but is extremely bad at showing it, even though Jonathan and George know. Jonathan always knows. Dio had to learn the hard way that he can’t hide shit from his brother.

He has a good relationship with Erina, they constantly make fun of each other and hey, would you look at that! He didn’t forcefully kiss her when they were twelve!! She can kick ass and he acknowledges and respects that.

Coming back to the Stands, Dio noticed that The World is very useful with four rat children who can do nothing but cause chaos and misery for him. Especially when one or all of them decide that running into traffic is how they want to spend their evening.

I’m not exactly sure but I think it’s established in canon that Giorno is the only one who’s a born Stand User. I’ll change that in this AU and make his brothers born Stand User as well.

The years pass, blablabla, Giorno still takes over the Italian Mafia because he can and gets rich even tho he already is and his brothers still don’t know what to do when they’re adults.

But! They find out their older brother has started dating some dude (“his name’s Hugo or something.” “are you stupid, it’s Fugo” “Gugo, like I said.”) and they spy on them when they’re out on a date.

Dio doesn’t exactly care if or whom his sons date, or which gender that person has since he’s a bisexual slut who keeps sleeping around, but he’ll make sure that neither of the four are taken advantage of and checks their partners’ backgrounds and lifestyles behind their backs.

Now, adding the fact that he’s a slut to his career as a lawyer: he wins every case.

Reason number one: he’s beautiful

Reason number two: he’s charismatic

Reason number three: he’s manipulative

Reason number four: he’s cunning

Reason number five: he’s convincing

Reason number six: he sleeps with the judge when his client is actually guilty

One of his sons: are you ever gonna give us a stepmother or stepfather?

Dio, planning his next one-night-stand: step-what?

He reluctantly leaves his sons in the care of his obnoxious brother when he has to go somewhere for work-related purposes. He’d rather die, though. (When they were children, at least. When they were 15/13/12/12, he began leaving them at home in hopes of finding it still in one piece later)

It’s basically a huge mess with a lot of chaos and misuse of some Stands (“didn’t I tell you two to stop using your Stands in the mansion?” “Ungalo started it.” “LIAR! Donatello started it.”) but it’s also fun and Dio wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He promised himself to never stoop down to the level of his piece of shit birth father, and he’s keeping that promise.

Oh yeah, he still poisons Dario before being adopted by George I. Normal, am I right?

#jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando #giorno giovanna #donatello versus #rikiel #ungalo #george joestar #george joester ii #jorge joestar #erina pendleton #jonathan joestar #mudad #jjba headcanons #jjba #lawyer dio au

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

350 of 2023

Never Have I Ever BUT WITH SEX STUFF pt 4

Bold what you DID.

Never have I ever had sex in a church or temple. Never have I ever vomited on someone during the act. Never have I ever answered the phone and had a conversation while doing it. Never have I ever pooped during sex. Never have I ever called someone the wrong name while sexing. Never have I ever worn liquid spandex. Never have I ever done it with someone 10+ years older than me. Never have I ever done it with someone 10+ years younger than me. Never have I ever hosted a sex party. Never have I ever used a female condom. Never have I ever tried something new that I ended up hating. Never have I ever given head on an airplane. Never have I ever gotten head. Never have I ever had sex while watching porn. Never have I ever slept with my gf's/bf's sister or brother. Never have I ever gone to a strip club. Never have I ever paid for an escort. Never have I ever groped boobs (under the bra). Never have I ever been with a furry - not the animals, a 'furry" - the rp furries - to clarify. Never have I ever practiced tantra. Never have I ever given a bj while he was driving. Never have I ever been to an x rated movie theater. Never have I ever paid for porn. Never have I ever eaten whipped cream off of someone.

#survey #bolding survey #themed survey #tmi survey

[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.

#Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Leia Organa #Jango Fett #rex and ahsoka #Quinlan Vos #Tholme #Depa Billaba #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ben Kenobi #Maul #Darth Maul #time travel #de aging #ptsd #trauma #child soldiers #Phoenix Files #Uncle Ben and Little Luke #Auntie Soka and Little Leia #disaster lineage

[worminstuff]

i introduce: tbott shorts! first edition,

same old, same old.

sleepy bois x reader au or as some of you may know, tbott.

set a tad into the future, a short blurb of what’s to come for this series. :) not all of these will be in the future. some may be past memories or even close around when tbott itself was set. i will clarify in all of the future parts of the series aswell:)

no warnings:)

word count: 900

enjoy!! and drink water.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Oi! None of that! You’re supposed to be eating, not plotting. Gremlins.” Phil pointed a spatula to the two boys sitting at the dining table behind him.

Tubbo and Tommy were now about the age of 11 and 10, and they’re the same as ever. Just more dangerous as they’ve got much more knowledge behind their backs.

Much like y/n, Tubbo quickly became a regular around the sleepy house as the pair got older. Tubbo was to Tommy as y/n is to Techno, platonically. Techno and y/n grew out of the treehouse a tad, so the gremlins inherited it quickly.

The treehouse had turned from a lovely comfy book nook area, full of lovely memories, to a sky lair full of chaotic plans.

“When are they not plotting, though?” y/n piped up from beside the two of them. Tommy stuck his tongue out at her and Tubbo followed suit.

Techno passed by Tommy’s chair to get to y/ns but as he passed Tommy he hit him softly on the cheek, “How are the braces feeling, metal mouth?”

“Don’t call me that you cunt!” Tommy blurted, clutching his cheek.

“Tommy!” Phil and y/n both yelled at the same time as Techno stood staring at him, all of them shell shocked.

Tommy’s eyes widened. He looked to the floor, “sorry…”

Phil sighed but nodded.

Techno chuckled softly and continued to y/ns chair standing behind it. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Do you two need anything for the house? Bread, eggs, milk? Anything?” Phil asked.

“Dryer sheets?” Techno said after a short pause.

Phil looked at him with a quirked brow before nodded. “Take what you need.”

Techno nodded and headed off down the hall to the laundry room.

“Y/n?” Tommy turned to his nonblood sister.

“Hm?”

“Can we come to see bonk today? We’ve got nothing to do and it’s all rainy out.”

“Tommy that’s an awesome plan!” Phil answered just as y/n was about to protest. She shot him a glance. “I’ve got to help Sam with something so I won’t be home and I don’t feel like leaving them alone on a rainy day. Take them back with you when you and techno head back why don’t you?” Phil gave a sweet smile and she caved.

“Right, what else should we do other than see bonk?” she asked both Tommy and tubbo.

They shared a glance and then leaned over whispering to each other. y/ns eyes narrowed, she already didn’t like how this was panning out.

“What are you two doing?” techno asked as he reentered finally, “what are they doing?” he asked his girlfriend.

“Plotting our demise.” she huffed.

Techno stared blankly at his little brother before giving him a soft smack on the head “quit it.”

“Oh sure, that’ll do it.” y/n said sarcastically.

“Dad! The married couple is a fight-” before Tommy could finish his sentence the back of his head met techno hand again, “oi! Quit it!” Tommy mocked.

Phil slipped on his shoes and then placed a kiss on y/ns head, and patted all the boy’s heads. “I’m leaving,” he said with a soft laugh as he quickly grabbed his coat.

“Heh?!” Techno quickly looked to y/n in panic.

“Oh yeah, we’re stuck with the rug rats today.” she smiled.

Techno paused, then sighed. He had planned on getting to relax and chill out with y/n for the day. He was excited about it too.

Tubbo and Tommy cheered at his disappointment.

Both boys scoffed down their pancakes as Techno cleaned up the kitchen for his dad, and once everyone was done they gathered their things to head to techno and y/ns house.

“Aye! No lighters in my house please and thank you.” y/n pointed at Tommy as she passed his doorway. Tommy had a lighter in his hand he was about to place in his backpack. Tommy slowly set it back on his desk.

The morning was about as tame as it could’ve been with Tommy and Tubbo, bonk got many cuddles and even played around with them for a tad.

The three of them managed to tire themselves out and actually passed out on y/n and Techno’s bed. It reminded y/n of a fond memory of hers.

After Techno saw the two boys out like a light, he quickly grabbed y/n so they could sit together and chill for as long as they would be able to. He hadn’t seen her much that day, and he wasn’t fond of it.

Techno managed to wrangle her away from whatever cleaning she was trying to do and dragged her to the living room. No to the couch, but to the floor in front of it.

“Sit.” he pointed to the rug.

y/n made a face at him. He huffed a laugh.

“As you would in the treehouse,” he said.

y/n quickly realized what he meant and happily sat on the rug cris cross. Techno followed suit but laid sort of next to her with his head in her lap. y/n pulled the small hair tie that was holding the top half of his hair up so she could run her hand through his hair.

Many things have changed over the years, but some things just won’t ever change for the sleepy bunch.

#sleepy bois x reader au #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy boys inc #sleepy bois #sleepy bois au #techno x reader #techno fanfic #techno fanfiction #technoblade fanfiction #technoblade x reader #lil bro tommy #tubbo #dadza philza #philza #sbi x reader #sbi

[95jezzica]

tbh you can't tell people not to send you questions about iceland ships bc he's a minor and then ship estonia with sweden. estonia is canonically 17 just like iceland. shipping either of them with any nordics is weird

Well, you would have a point if I had ever seen Estonia as 17 years old, but I don't.

In all honesty you might be one of the first people I have personally seen/read who actually sees Estonia as 17? Which is fine and valid, but I also want to clarify that at a bare minimum I see Estonia as 23+ years old, usually even older, and the majority of the Hetalia fans from at least the NB8 countries do the same.

The ages in Hetalia have always been wonky at best, but I don't think I will ever be convinced a nation so closely connected to the Scandinavian and Finnish history have the appearence of a 17y old - especially while knowing the history of Estonian Vikings' burning passion. (10 points for anyone getting the reference.)

Based on history it would even make more sense if Estonia was older than Sweden and Finland, but at the very least Estonia would be around the same age. It's canon hws Sweden existed as a personification during the Viking times, which basically means Estonia also did.

Anyway, we could probaby argue about their ages until we turn blue, but the end of the day we all view characters differently - and that's okay. Please just keep in mind I see Estonia as 23+ years old at a bare minimum, and in human AUs he's usually 1-3 year older than Sweden and/or Finland.

.

Now, my point in the DenNor ask was that I have repeatedly made it clear I see Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Iceland as siblings - but I have also talked about Iceland being a minor/their baby-brother a few times before as well. That's how I view them.

So yeah, it started to get a bit weird and annoying when people kept insisting on asking me for shipping headcanons between characters I have stated to see as siblings.

This is my Tumblr blog.

It's perfectly fine to see characters differently, but I'm not going to make myself uncomfortable on my own blog by making up shipping headcanons for characters I view as siblings, and especially not just because some random anon(s) on the internet asked/demanded me to do so.

I'm happy to answer questions/requests people might have whenever I can, but that also means the asker(s) need to respect my rules and how I view the characters. If they don't agree with how I see someone, that's fine, but then there's also better Tumblr blogs to ask instead.

Do you like DenNor? Ask a DenNor blog. Do you like DenSu? Ask a DenSu blog.

The same could be same about any other shipping out there, not just about Nordics. You wouldn't ask for UsUk headcanons from a FrUk blog, now would you?

So yeah, my point was to not ask the blog who have repeatedly told people how much they love Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Iceland as siblings (or that they view Iceland as a minor, for the matter) for shipping stuff between said siblings.

That's when things get iffy, for a lack of a better word.

.

#Hetalia #hws Estonia #hws Iceland #hws #hws Finland #hws Sweden #hws Denmark #hws Norway #ask #asks

[noritoshiikamo]

Headcanons for the cursed womb siblings when they ship you and choso please 🌝 but choso is like a “job first, love later” kind of guy. He is responsible👏 He wants to support his siblings first👏 But they want nothing more than for their brother to have a lover.

modern au! office worker choso x reader no warning, just fluff. death painting brothers are normal humans, choso is just oblivious, reader is in love anywaysssss okay, i know it said headcanon but i went overboard and i cant help it anymore, choso brainrot tagging: @booksweet , @fushigurocockslut, @lazy10ieiri, @sassyeahhhh, @cotton-curse, @thevoidwriting, @dukinaxael

- job first, love later

you were the first girl choso ever brought home.

except it was by accident. your car had broken down in front of the office and you being typically you, had no idea what had happened to your shit car. “stupid, stupid!” you cursed, opening the front of your car, watching as puff of smoke escaped. you panicked, you never had anyone told you what to do with your car and such.

you were the only child in your family, your mother passed away when you were just a child and your father disappeared. you were sent away to a distance relative, the gojo where you grew up with satoru and his adoptive brother, megumi. but they are useless as a lump of coal. “y/n, are you okay?” you whipped up your head, wiping the dripping sweat off your worried head as you were greeting by a familiar face.

“oh, choso, thank god, do you know anything about car? i cant figure out why wont it start,” you cried clutching on his white sleeve before shrieking. you watched at your fingers left black smudges on his shirt, panicked overwhelmed you as you realised you just ruined the chance for help by ruining your savior’s shirt. but choso only laughed, brushing your panicked look aside and handed you his briefcase. “how long has it been like this?” he asked as he rolled his sleeves, you shrugged. “10 minutes? i think.”

“do you have any cloth i can use to check the coolant?” he asked. you nodded and headed to back, throwing the briefcase in the backseat. coming back with an old rag, you were surprise when choso grabbed your wrists. your face warmed up as he twisted and turned your hand, “did the steam hit your hand?” he asked, glancing up to your face. you shook your head and handed him the cloth. you watched as he did his thing, in 5 minutes he had the engine running and the temperature meter down.

“please, cho, let me sent you home. as a thank you!”

he smiled, “you don’t have too, i can take the subway.”

“i insisted!” you exclaimed, “plus i have your briefcase! aha, you need it so if you want it you have to let me drive you home. please?” you insisted, throwing a puppy face as you clutched both hands to your chest. he exhale heavily, before holding out his hand. your brow shot up in confusion, you placed your hand on his larger palm. you looked up to the older man, a small smile on his face. he was holding his laugh. “your car keys, y/n. lemme me drive you home at least,” he clarified, causing you to mentally slap yourself. the keys exchanged hands and you get in the passenger’s seat. he's a careful driver, he used the blinker and didn’t speed, you felt instantly safe under his care.

“do you live alone, choso?” you asked your coworker. he shook his head, “i live with my younger brothers, eso and chizu. our parents died a long time ago.”

“oh, same. my parents died a long time ago. i’m their only child. my uncle took me in, he’s like a brother to me,” you explained, reminded of your childhood growing up with satoru. he might not be an ideal father figure but he loves you like his own sister. the car slowed down in front of block A of some apartment. “you live here?” you asked glancing around. his apartment is definitely on the lower class scale, the building looks like it could be hundred years old with the chipped paint.

“yeah, i’ve been raising my brothers alone. money’s a bit tight, they are still studying,” he explained grabbing his case from the back. “thank you for helping me with my car,” you stopped him, placing your hand on his, “please let me replace your shirt. just tell me the brand and i’ll buy a new one, i’m so sorry.”

choso offered her a smile, waving his hand dismissively. “it’s okay, i can get the grease off easily. i should thank you for the ride instead. i owe you for that.”

“in that case, can i see your home?”

choso looked at you in amusement, his hand reached forward to ruffled your head, “you’re weird, y/n. but okay. a cup of tea won’t hurt.” he was sure that none of his siblings are home, parked the car and let you trailed him as you both entered the lift up to the 5th floor. you didn’t seemed to be bothered by the surrounding, the stray cats and the random pile of garbage, eyes only trained on his back as you trailed him. his house were around the corner of the stairs, further from the elevator with number 532 on the blue door. he pulled out his keys but the door was already opened.

“chizu won’t throw out the trash,” a shirtless guy with a mohawk greeted them, he was instead more surprised to see you hiding behind the man, “oh, who is this?”

“my coworker. she drove me home, i offered her some tea. i thought you two aren't home, clearly i was mistaken,” he mumbled, annoyed that his brothers were actually home. he turned to you who was looking away, he could see speckle of warmth on your face. "y/n, this is eso. eso, go be a decent human being and put on some shirt," choso ushered the man away before calling you in. you could see panic in his face when eso instead announced that choso was bring his girlfriend home to the other brother.

you couldn't help but to laugh.

-

you stood in front of door 532 ringing the door bell.

you could hear some yelling. someone was telling to get the door, someone yelled that they were busy in the bathroom and someone was angry in the kitchen. you felt conscious, maybe this was a bad time. you placed the paper bag on the floor and prayed you can make it to the stair but door opened. a voice greeted you.

"y/n?"

your steps halted. you turned around, flustered that you got caught. choso stood by the door, apron covering half of his bare body with a spatula in the other. "uh hi, i was just here to drop you something," you pointed to the bag on the floor, absolutely refusing to look up, why is he being so attractive in that stupid apron for, you cussed, "i'm sorry for disturbing your sunday, i'll go."

"is that y/n?" a voice in the background called.

choso looked back and nodding, "yup, it is her." you could see the desperate look on his face before another head popped out from the door. it was his younger brother chizu. he took a bite of the pancake, a wide smile on his face, "what's up, big sis?" the boy with the blue hair greeted her. you shrugged, pointing to the bag that's now in choso's hand. "i was just dropping something, i don't want to disturb your sunday," you shook your head but chizu insisted that you stay for breakfast.

"come on big sis, choso rarely bring any girl over, it actually is exciting to finally talk to someone who isn't as annoying as eso," chizu laced his arm around yours and dragged you through the door. you look at choso for help, the man could only shoot you a sympathetic smile before shutting the door. he followed you, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as he watched you sat by the table. eso started filling your plate with fresh batch of pancakes while chizu started talking about this band he started to listen. you listened to it attentively, thanking eso for the syrup before he took a seat beside you.

choso took a peak of the paper bag, a small smile on his face when he realised there's a brand-new shirt in it with a sticky note on top of it. i'm sorry, hope this one fits you- the note said. he looked up to back to the table, you started to look like you belong there. the house has always been empty, it was just him and his brothers. you're just like a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting in a vase in the middle of the table; breath of fresh air to the kusozu family.

"pancakes, choso?"

your voice disturbed his thoughts. "tchh, choso, why you're looking at y/n-chan like that?" eso threw a spoon playfully at the older sibling as he walked to the table, "say, y/n, choso didn't do anything sexual to you or anything right? as your brother i'm worried," your eyes widened as you choked on your drink. chaos ensued in the house as choso threatened to murder the middle child, chizu could only sit back and enjoyed as you tried to calm him down while eso's obnoxious laugh echoed the small apartment.

"you better apologize, you broomhead or i'll murder you!"

eso stuck out his tongue, dodging the flying cup, "never!"

-

"i got something for chizu. would you mind giving it to him?"

you peaked your head in his office, waving another paperbag in hand. choso took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, "you don't have to spoil my brothers, y/n. they are already a brat without you." you rolled your eyes and placed the bag on his pile of paperworks. "my younger brother, gumi- he knew the band's drummer, y'know the band he's been talking about and got a signed album for me. i'm not a fan so i figured chizu would've enjoyed it better than me." he peaked through the paper bag, a small smile on his face as he thanked you. you both sat in silence, you felt like you were disturbing the man so you excused yourself.

"y/n," your hand froze on the handle, "how can i pay up for everything nice you've done to us? i feel like it's unfair that you're doing all this nice things and i don't want to owe you anything." your turn and watched as the man walked close to you. choso looks handsome as usual, the blue tie matched his eyes while his slightly longer hair is slicked back. you recognized the shirt he's wearing, you bought it for him and it was nice of him to wear it to work.

"would like to go for a coffee with me?" you asked boldly.

"it's a date."

-

"it's not a date," choso sighed, combing his hair back.

"it is," eso crossed his arms on his chest, "she asked for a coffee and you said it's a date. bro, it is a date." the younger brother shook his head, motioned for him to part his hair. "slicked back make you look like you're going to office, yuck. if we wanna impressed big sis, you gotta look better than this."

"it's still not a date," choso protested, "it's just a coffee meet up."

the doorbell rang.

"yeah, it's not a date when you spend an hour worrying over your hair, cho," chizu ran to the front door, waiting at the door was you. you didn't have to go up and fetch him at the door, but you actually enjoyed meeting his brothers you didn't mind the hassle anymore. "damn, y/n, you dress better when you're not going to office," chizu complemented you. you could only shake your head, pocketing your hands in the plaid skirt that fell just at your knees, "i only dress up to important stuff, job sucks ass, i ain't spending my good outfits going to work," you kicked off your boots and walked in.

"you listen to that cho, at least she knew that this that is important!"

your eyes widened at his word and the younger brother dodged your fist easily. choso peaked through the door, a smile grew on his face when his eyes caught yours, "huh, i didn't realise we are going to colour coordinate," he said, stepping out. you realised that you both had accidentally matched each other's outfit, speckles of warmth spread all over your face when you noticed how it looks like. chizu, being the loose lip took the words right out of your head, "you both look like you're dating."

"we are not dating!" both of you exclaimed immediately only for eso and chizu to share a look.

"stop that," choso warned, disappearing into the kitchen, "tea, y/n?" you yelled a yes before following him. "don't mind them, they are being an idiot." you watched as he poured sugar in a cup with teabag, before putting the kettle on. "i don't mind," you shrugged it off, fidgeting nervously with the corner of your blouse. the comforting silence that engulfed both of you were short lived.

"oh, choso, i actually want to tell you that i like you!"

chizu's soft voice easily imitated your voice, something you took offended off. you turned around to see the two brothers perched on the kitchen hatch. "i do not sound like that!" you gasped. it was eso's turn, coming through with his rendition of choso.

"oh, y/n! i like you too, but i'm just dumbass and refuse to admit my feeling!"

"i will not hesitate to sent you back to mom and dad," choso warned.

"i also think that eso is way good looking that i am, but i'm scared that he will swoop you away from me," eso continued, at this point even you couldn't hold your laughter as you pressed your palm over your mouth. "what you laughing for, y/n?" choso's eyes narrowed as he glanced at you, huffing in annoyance. "hey! don't be mad at me for laughing, he did it well." you could see his own cheeks growing redder and redder with every mocking.

"go away, boys," you shushed them, walking to choso's side as he poured the hot water in the cup. resting against the counter, you thanked him when the cup exchanged hands, looking down on the swirling liquid that you didn't realise choso's fingers hooking under your chin, tilting your face up. all you realised was his soft lips against yours.

you are kissing your coworker in his kitchen.

"cho-" you whispered between the kiss but he hushed you, his hand now resting against your waist pulling your closer, deepening his kiss, "don't mind them." you tasted like your chapstick, his kiss was soft but it was enough to leave you breathless in his arms. you look in each other's eyes, a new realization to what had just happened had you both flustered.

"god, if our shit imitation would've finally made you both realise that you two dumbass like each other, we would've done this months ago," eso snickered. the two brothers had moved from the hatch to the table, heads resting on hands watching the new lovebird. "would you mind waiting for 5 minutes while i murder my brother? i promise it won't take long, then we'll continue with our date," choso asked quietly, brushing a stray hair off your cheek as you brought the mug to your lips, hiding the small smile behind the cup as you nodded. you watched amusingly, sipping on your tea as the two brothers ran around the small apartment, yelling profanities while chizu hugged you.

"welcome to the family, big sis."

you ruffled his blue hair, your cheeks hurt but you just couldn't stop smiling, "if it wasn't to you, i don't think i wouldn't even dare to speak my feelings. so, thank you. the voice acting was shit tho."

"you thank us, you hate us, geez, big sis, make up your mind," chizu teased you, winking as he brushed it off as a joke, "you help us a lot, i never seen choso so happy before. he worries a lot. about us, money. it was good sometimes to see him put himself first," chizu shrugged, cheek resting on your shoulder, "we survived before, we'll survive now. choso has nothing to worry about. you too, we are alright, okay?"

you nodded, resting your cheek on his head, heart overwhelmed with love for you newly found family, you felt belonged here.

#writing: request answered #writing: fics #choso #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso imagine

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Protect

For Maribat March day 18 theme protect 

Master List 

“DEAREST BIG BROTHER! I’M HOME!” A female shout came from the foyer of the manor. 

Dick, Jason, Tim, Babs, Steph, and Cass were hanging out in one of the many rooms the manor held. Alfred had just walked in with a tray of drinks but froze at the sound of the voice.

“THE HECK!” Was shouted by the same voice followed by Damian’s voice shouting, 

“WHO ARE YOU!?!?! HOW DID YOU GET IN!?!?!” 

Alfred was out of the room in an instant. He was not sprinting but he might as well be with how fast he was walking. The batkids immediately followed after him. 

They walked in on a sight none of them will ever forget. Literally, Jason had taken a picture. A strange woman who looked like a female, miniature version of Bruce had Damian’s precious katana and seemed to be taunting him with it. 

“Miss Marinette!” Alfred called and got both the woman’s and Damian’s attention. 

“Alfred!” The woman replied, running over and giving him a hug, katana still in her hand. 

“Wait, Aunt Nettie?” Dick spoke up, walking over to the pair. 

“Little Wing! Wow, you got so much bigger since the last time I saw you.” She responded, giving him a hug. 

“Wait, wait, your Aunt Nettie?” Jason asked, crossing his arms. 

“Aww, Little Blue Jay, you don’t remember me?” She shot back, crossing her arms as well. 

“Blue Jay, why is that familiar?” Jason muttered to himself, not quietly enough since everyone heard him. 

“Aunt Nettie, you only visited once when he was here.” Dick reminded her. 

“Oh, well that will explain that. Also how many more kids did Bruce adopt? I thought it was only the 2 of you, the Drake kid, and his bio kid.” She questioned, motioning to each child she remembered. 

“The only other kid he adopted is Cass, Steph and Babs are family friends.” Dick clarified. 

“Babs, the first Batgirl correct?” She asked, turning to the girl in question. Everyone froze at that, this girl who was apparently Bruce’s sister knew who they were.

“It’s fine guys, she’s known since the beginning of his time as Batman.” Dick assured. 

“Yep, speaking of my big brother, where is he?” 

“Master Bruce is currently at a WE meeting, but he will be back in time for dinner.” Alfred answered for her. 

“How come father never told us about you?” Damian voiced, glaring at her and looking like he wanted to attack her again. Probably because she still had his katana. 

“I rarely visit nowadays and he’s probably still upset after last time.” Marinette smirked, like she had won some sort of battle. Noticing she still had his katana, she handed the blade back to Damian. 

“Last time?” Tim hesitantly echoed. 

“How about Miss Marinette shares the story in the living room? I can bring snacks.” Alfred offered, Marinette looked like she was about to say something but Alfred beat her to it, “You bond with your nieces and nephews, I will be fine.” 

“Come on Marinette! You can tell them about how you helped train Bruce! Oh did you bring any kwamis with you?” Dick rambled, pulling Marinette with him into the room they were hanging out in before her appearance. 

Once they were all seated Tim started the conversation, “So I’m not hallucinating, you are actually Bruce’s sister.” 

“Yes, Bruce is 3 years older than me. I know that he is Batman and you guys are the bats and the birds.” She calmly responded. 

“What did Dick mean by you helped train Bruce? And what is a Kwami?” Babs continued. 

“Kwami are basically magical beings, kinda like gods, that are bound to jewels called miraculous. Since I’m the guardian I protect these jewels. I trained Bruce by helping my old mentor from Tibet train him.” Marinette explained. 

“What happened last time? And why don’t you visit often?” Damian asked, carefully hidden curiosity in his eyes. 

“Back in my first year of highschool, Bruce was very protective of me. Like very protective. No boy he didn’t approve of, which meant I could never talk to a single boy, could get within 10 feet of me without him present. Asking me out, out of the question. Pretty sure this one guy, Adam, wanted to ask me out but Bruce interrupted before he could. I never talked to him again after that. I got pretty tired of it so I signed up for the foreign exchange program and went to school in Paris.” 

“Wait,” Steph interrupted, “Bruce was an overprotective brother?” 

“One of the worst kinds. I’m sure if our parents were still alive he might’ve been worse than my dad.”

“What importance does this have to the questions?” Damian sneered, annoyed that he wasn’t getting any answers. 

“Hold on I’m getting there. So anyways it was in my sophomore year of highschool at Paris that a supervillain attacked. He called himself Hawkmoth, he used the butterfly miraculous to transform people into his puppets by using their emotions against them. I didn’t think much of it since it didn’t concern me, my host family agreed thinking it wouldn’t last long. But when I got to my room there was a little box sitting on my desk and that’s where I found the ladybug miraculous. The most powerful miraculous besides the cat miraculous. I told Bruce, he wasn’t too happy about it, but there wasn’t much he could do. So much happened in that amount of time that I don’t think I could summarize it all before Bruce gets back but just know that in that span of time I met the current guardian. Hawkmoth gained an ally who used the peacock miraculous, Mayura. Also a miraculous that could manipulate emotions. 

After I and my partner had defeated Hawkmoth and Mayura, sometime during my senior year, we revealed our identities, dated for a few months before I ended things. Then I went back home and Bruce was getting ready to go on his soul-searching journey to be trained by masters or whatever and I suggested he be trained by my mentor who was in Tibet. I went with him, we trained for a couple of months before he left. I decided to stay in Tibet to train to become the next guardian. Eventually my mentor died and gave me guardianship. 

Then I returned to Gotham and Bruce had adopted Little Wing over there. So I stayed here for a while before I decided to go around the world doing guardian things. Bruce didn’t like the idea but there wasn’t much he could do. I ended up catching up with an old friend of mine on one of my travels and we started dating before I came back here. That’s when I met Little Blue Jay for the first and last time.

Before you guys had gone on patrol I tried to ask Bruce to give my boyfriend a chance but he didn’t agree. I’ve always been his little sister in his eyes, I think he couldn’t handle the fact I had grown up. Nasty words were exchanged between us and I haven’t returned since. In the end me and him didn’t work out but I couldn’t bring myself to return, until now at least.” 

“Why now?” Damian immediately pressed once she finished her explanation. 

“Dusuu was missing Alfred. It has been like a decade or something.” She remarked, pulling out a peacock shaped brooch. 

“Didn’t you say that the peacock miraculous was evil?” Cass signed, raising an eyebrow at the brooch. 

“No, I said it was used for evil. The miraculous are technically neutral, can be used for good or evil. Depends on who is wielding them.” Marinette bit back, as a flash of light emitted from the brooch. Suddenly a small floating peacock creature stood in front of Marinette. 

“Is that a kwami?” Steph asked. 

“Yes, this is Dusuu, the peacock kwami of emotions.”

“Hello! It’s so nice to meet you!” Dusuu chirped, “Where’s Alfred?” 

“I am right here Dusuu. It is lovely to see you again.” Alfred spoke from the doorway, holding a tray of snacks and drinks. 

“Alfred!” Dusuu cheered before flying over and hugging the older man. 

“In all honesty Bruce doesn’t sound like the best brother.” Jason pointed out. 

“I know it may seem like he’s a shitty brother, and at the time I totally thought he was and still is, but I know where he’s coming from. Bruce was always the more reserved and protective out of the 2 of us even before what happened to our parents. I think our parents' death solidified his need to protect me from anything and anyone. And we all know how horrible Bruce is at showing his emotions so I know his heart was in the right place. Plus, we’ve had years to cool off, I’m sure we can have a mature conversation now.” Marinette explained, a fond smile gracing her lips. 

Faintly in the distance they heard Alfred say, “Welcome home, Master Bruce.” 

“That’s my cue!” Marinette said before bolting off in the direction of the foyer. 

“Alfred something’s off, what are you not telling me?” The second those words left his mouth a weight connected with his back, arms wrapped around his neck and a familiar, 

“HEY BIG BRO!” Was registered by his ears. 

The weight slipped off his back and as he turned around he was met with the familiar sight of his little sister. “Marinette.” 

“Bruce.”

“You’re here.” 

“I am.” 

“I thought-”

“That I was mad at you.”

“You didn’t visit for 10 years.” 

“Life got busy.” 

They stood in silence for a minute. 

“I missed you.” Marinette whispered, so much different from the girl that was telling them a brief summary of her life. She seemed so much more vulnerable uttering those words than when she had revealed why she hadn’t come back in the first place. 

Turns out that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as Bruce wrapped Marinette in a hug as tears slipped from his eyes. They could hear him whispering over and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did all those years ago.” 

It was weird for them all to see, including Dick who knew how much Marinette meant to Bruce. Bruce kept his emotions so closed up, master of the stoic face, but here he was breaking down in front of the all. Here he was crying and apologizing. 

“I believe we should leave them alone for now.” Alfred spoke up heading for the dining room. They followed. Later Bruce and Marinette would join them, a little red-eyed with their cheeks tear-stained, but small smiles on their faces. 

It was then that all the batkids knew that they would be seeing this ‘Aunt Nettie’ much more often. 

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Look at that, I’m super late again! Nothing new, I think day 14 was a one time thing unfortunately. 

I’ve seen a ton of fics where Marinette was Bruce’s older sister but what about where she’s his younger sister? Bruce would so be an overprotective older brother. 

I hoped you enjoyed this! I’m planning on making a part 2 of this for ‘contest’. So stay tuned!

@maribatmarch-2k21 

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #protect #little sister marinette #big brother bruce #part 2 will be contest

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (10/10) Peter version

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader Warnings: emotional ending but happy! Word Count: 2.8k Part Summary: As the Pevensies time in Narnia comes to an end, Y/N must decide. There isn’t just one question that needs to be answered... who will Y/N pick? Will Y/N really consider staying in Narnia? A/N: And with that one of my first series comes to an end... it’s both exciting yet sad at the same time as I’ve had so much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the series! I appreciate you so much! SOOOO emotional! I never thought of writing both versions of the ending BUT I’m so glad I did so thank you to whoever suggested it!!! I envisioned Y/N picking Caspian, but this ending is gold :) 

Masterlist 

The whole Talmarine kingdom, as well as Narnians, have gathered in the courtyard for the ceremony. Aslan has made the decision to allow some Talmarines to leave Narnia if they choose. Apparently, Talmarines are like the Pevensies and myself I suppose, they're from our world. They traveled to Narnia centuries ago by accident and made a home here. Caspian speaks to his people with such ease as he encourages them to consider the offer. He's a natural-born leader. He's meant to be Narnia's future king. As I come to this conclusion, I take Peter's hand beside me. He glances down at me, having not expected the action. Nonetheless, he gives my hand a comforting squeeze and offers me a gentle smile of reassurance.

"Are you alright?" He questions in a whisper with a tad of worry resting on his brows.

"I just... when we got here I would've done anything to go back home. Now that the war is over and Miraz is gone, I've come to realize I'm quite fond of Narnia," I explain my predicament.

Peter chuckles lightly, pleased with the news considering how much he adores this place. "I always hoped you would. Whenever I told you about Narnia, I wished I could've shown it to you. I'm glad you came with us this time. Now you understand," he reasons.

General Glozelle and Miraz's wife, Prunaprismia, volunteer first with her baby. In honor of their bravery, Aslan blesses them with a good future. The pair walk toward the tree that Aslan has made part in half. Everyone watches in awe the General and former Queen disappear in a blink. My lips part in astonishment. I don't think I'll ever get used to magic. Gasps fall across the crowd and people begin to question Aslan's intentions. They fear this is all a trick.

Peter slips his hand from mine and steps forward. "We'll go," he volunteers us.

"We Edmund frowns, sharing my expression.

"Wait, what?" I express rather rashly.

In my defense, it's justified. Peter never asked for my opinion. He's deciding for me. Aslan... Aslan made it out to seem as though I had a choice, as though we all would have at least some more time here. "Come on. Our time's up," Peter tells me solemnly, but an ounce of hope lingers in his tone. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore," he determines while approaching Caspian to offer him his sword.

"I will look after it until you return," Caspian assures Peter confidently.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan interjects beside me. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy pouts with concern.

"You two are," Peter predicts, glancing between Aslan and his youngest sister. "At least, I think he means you two."

"But why?" Lucy struggles to comprehend the purpose behind this news, as do I. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, Dear One," Aslan voices. "Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live on their own." Aslan comforts each of us with his wisdom.

Though, frankly, I'm finding it hard to swallow this harsh pill. But all things have their time.

"It's all right, Lu," Peter tries to ease Lucy's mind as he takes her hand gently. "It's not how I thought it would be...but it's all right."

Peter directs his attention to me and holds out his free hand for me to take. "One day you'll see, too. Come on."

He offers me a weak smile, not one that shows genuine happiness, but contentment. I ease my hand out to glide it into his, but something stops me. A feeling in my chest telling me not to settle as Peter as with his decision. I shift my head toward Aslan to ask the lion directly. "And what about me?"

My patience is growing thin. All this back-and-forth yet I haven't heard a concrete answer about where I belong. Aslan is constantly confusing me with his tricky wording. One minute he makes me believe that finding him wasn't my purpose for coming here and the next he's telling Peter that his time here is over. I belong where Peter is, I always have. If his purpose is in our world... then so is mine. Then, does that mean I'm like Edmund and Lucy? Am I destined to return in the future? How far in the future? Narnian time is different from ours, who knows how many years will pass before we're here again. It could be another thousand years in Narnian time. "Your course is not as clear-cut as theirs," Aslan states with uncertainty. "You still have much to learn from here, as do Edmund and Lucy. Going back means one day, you will return, as will they."

"So I am to go back," I hope to clarify.

All I want is an answer, to know my path.

"Returning to your world will bring you back here someday, yes, that is a course you may take," Aslan nods calmly.

So, after all this time, after all the back-and-forth, Aslan is guiding me toward Peter. He made it sound as though I had to make this life-altering decision. The first few days we were here, I would've given anything to go back home. I never wanted to be in Narnia. Now that I have my chance to get out and everyone is rushing me out the door, I'm digging my heels into the dirt begging for a moment's pause. All this time Aslan has been pressing me to make a decision, why do I feel as though he's making it for me? It's suffocating.

I glance between Aslan and Peter nervously. Aslan wears his usual gentle and patient smile while Peter is confused with furrowed brows. His hand remains out to me, lingering for mine to join it. I whip my head around and my eyes land on Caspian. His features fall as he comes to terms with my departure. I approach the future King solemnly. All I can keep thinking is 'more time! More time! If only we had more time!' I can't visualize who the 'we' is exactly. When I say it, all I can think of is the riverbank in the forest. I see myself lying beside the river in the plush green, flower-covered, grass. The warmth of the golden sun scatters over my skin. I spent time with both Peter and Caspian there. What I would give to return to those moments. Whether I'm hoping it's with Peter or Caspian, I can't see. Each of them matters to me, on what level I can't decide.

"I'm glad I came," I tell Caspian whole-heartedly.

"I wish we had more time together," the prince sighs, taking my hands in his.

His hands are warm. Mine are always cold. I never noticed that before now. I'll miss that.

"I'm not entirely sure I belong here," I confess timidly, still unsure of my thoughts and Aslan's advice.

"Why not?" Caspian frowns as if my words are nonsense.

"I’m not of this world and if the Pevensies are 1,300 years older than you so am I," I shrug with a hint of a smile as I comprehend how old I am. I'm not a Narnian or a monarch of Narnia. Aslan said I was meant to come here with the Pevensies, but our time is up and I've yet to find this purpose he speaks so much about.

Caspian expresses a faint smile, amused by my humor, but too solemn to fully be happy. Both of us pull the other into an embrace. The words continue to repeat in my mind. 'More time! More time! If only we had more time!' I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking a deep trench and I'm stuck wondering whether I should jump. Caspian and I part from one another. It's painful. I feel safe with him, more secure and understood than I ever have before. I don't want to let go, but at the same time, I'm yearning to cling to Peter.

Peter meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the tree trunk. The Pevenesies begin toward the tree as well, ready to go on.

"It’ll be okay," Peter whispers in my ear as he brings me into his side.

I feel safe here with him. Peter is home for me. For years, he's been my rock, my strength. Through the war, losing my dad, through all the bad, Peter has been my guiding light.

He continues to comfort me. "Everything will be as if we-"

"Peter, no wait... " I shake my head as my steps come to a halt.

It takes a second for Peter to react. He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me. Turning over his shoulder, he gives me a confused look.

"I can’t go back," I voice, but my volume is weak. "At least not yet... not until I know that I've done what I must do."

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I... I think I’m still needed here..." I stammer with uncertainty. "At least... At least that’s what I think Aslan means. He speaks like a fortune teller and it’s confusing!"

Peter switches his now crossed expression from me to the lion. "Aslan, is that true?"

"Y/N’s future is not set in stone as your four’s is in history. She has known that she has to decide her course of action for some time. The clock is dwindling," Aslan explains steadily, looking to me to decide.

Lucy steps forward from behind Peter. "You mean you have to stay here?"

"It means I have a choice," I do my best to word it less harshly to the little one. "Staying here or coming again later. I’m assuming the next time will be with you and Edmund. Either way, I’m needed here. I just know it." I try to explain, but how do I explain a feeling?

"Neither choice is wrong," Aslan injects as he moves to stand beside Peter and me. "Going back to your world would mean you would return with Edmund and Lucy. After that, your life will be as you've always envisioned with who you envisioned. Staying here would be as you've envisioned as well," Aslan explains, giving me a knowing look. "You will prosper in both worlds, in whichever you decide."

Does Aslan know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about the riverbank? Is that what he's referring to? Does he mean that if I stay in Narnia I'll be with Caspian? If I return to England Peter and I will be together? Choosing a world also means choosing between Peter and Caspian.

"But why?" Lucy pouts.

"I don’t know," I struggle to say as my eyes begin to well up.

"I do," Peter voices.

"What?" I mutter.

"I didn’t understand it at first, but Aslan told me something earlier today. He said, ‘as much as we wish we could, sometimes we can’t choose who we love, the world chooses for us.’ You’re needed here. This is why you were brought here with us. When Caspian called for us with the horn, he unknowingly was calling to you as well."

I switch my gaze between Caspian and Peter frantically. Both of them meet my gaze with eagerness, wondering what I'll choose, as does everyone else.

"So I will return with Lucy and Edmund in the future if I go home?" I clarify with Aslan, hoping for a direct answer.

"Yes, if that's what you decide, Child," he nods.

I press my lips together as my throat becomes strained from holding back tears. "Peter I- "

"It’s okay," he assures me as his hand glides up to cup my cheek. "Everything is as it should be."

I can tell he's doing his best to stay strong for my sake. Tears flow from his eyes silently and the sight pierces my heart.

"If this is how it should be, why does it hurt so much?" I mutter, my tone shaky with emotion.

Peter shakes his head as his eyes become glossy. "It won’t forever. We’ll both grow and find that which we were destined to. I always thought we would find that together," he chuckles softly, it's bitter-sweet. "But this is right," he speaks with certainty.

"But I’ll never see you again," I comprehend the harsh reality of it all. "I... I don't want that! I can't imagine my life without you in it! You've always been there and I... haven't I lost enough people already? How many more goodbyes must I say?"

"We mustn’t think like that. One day we'll be together again!" Peter thinks optimistically.

This isn't fair. None of this is fair! In choosing Narnia, in choosing a different life for myself, I'm losing my best friend. I'm losing the one person who kept me going, who gave me a reason to survive.

"I love you," I cry.

Peter grins at my words, a faint and joyful chuckle escapes between his teeth. "And I’ve always loved you, perhaps I always will. We’ll never lose that, even across worlds."

I nod repeatedly, holding onto every syllable. I pray and hope, that he's right. Peter pulls me into his chest and I wrap my arms around him for dear life. I grip the fabric of his loose shirt in my fists. His hand cradles my head as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Do the ones we love ever truly leave us? Is the memory of them strong enough to keep us going in their absence? I doubt a day will pass by where Peter doesn't cross my mind or any of the Pevensies for that matter.

Now that our time has officially run out, I say my goodbyes to each of the Pevensies. I'm not just saying goodbye to Peter's siblings, each of them has become family to me. Lucy and Susan cry with me as the three of us hug each other. Edmund does his best not to show emotion, but I can see behind his stone-hard expression that he's holding back. His tight embrace is enough evidence as well.

When the moment comes for the Pevensies to return to London, I hold onto Peter's hand as I approach the tree with them. His siblings walk a step ahead as Peter walks backward to face me. Until the last second, we hold on.

"Someday," I nod, as though I'm making a promise that one day we'll see each other again.

He nods, agreeing to the vow. "Someday."

Our hands begin to slip as Peter backs away toward the cliff between the tree halves and my breath hitches in my throat. I stare into his sea-glass eyes and the seconds travel rapidly by. In a blink, he's gone, disappeared from my world.

A gasp escapes my lips at the sight. My arm falls to my side as tears glide down my cheeks. My heart sinks as reality hits me that I'll never see Peter ever again as long as we're alive. An arm wraps around my waist, supporting me. Caspian appears in my peripheral vision as my eyes remain locked on the open space beneath the tree.

"It’ll be okay," he reassures me as he rubs his hand up and down my back.

I swallow hard, my face becomes blank other than the tears falling down my cheeks. A deep sense of emptiness consumes me inch by inch starting from my heart.

"As long as you've done what's right by your conscious and your heart, you could never be wrong, Dear One," Aslan advises smoothly.

I stare ahead at the tree, waiting for Peter to reappear though I know he'll never come. Have I done wrong? If this is what's meant to happen, why does it hurt so much? This is agony.

Caspian tries to usher me away, "come, Y/N, we can go back to-"

"No!" I blurt out suddenly, making him halt.

My eyes search the tree in a panic and then I turn to Caspian. "I'm sorry... I... I can't do this!"

The prince's features fall as he processes my words. "But..."

"I'm so sorry Caspian," I cry. "I love Narnia and I'm so glad that we've met but..." I glance over at the empty space where Peter last stood with a deep sigh. "I don't think I can be truly happy here if a piece of me is elsewhere."

Caspian swallows hard, clenching his jaw to withhold his emotions. "You love him," he determines.

Knowing that in choosing Peter I'm hurting Caspian is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Yet, it wasn't until Peter vanished from my sight did I come to realize that the answer to my million questions was right there in front of me this whole time. It's Peter, it's always been, Peter.

I lean up and plant a kiss on Caspian's lips, one last kiss. He deepens the kiss and it's a bitter-sweet farewell. When we part, he wraps his arms around me in an embrace. I wrap my arms around him tightly, holding onto the hope that Aslan is right and one day we may see each other again.

"One day," I mutter against his chest. "One day I hope we're reunited."

Caspian parts from me and expresses a weak smile as he brushes his hand against my cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. "I'll count the days until your return."

“I pray it’s soon,” I confess. “I fear I’ll miss you more than I can bare.” 

In choosing Peter, I lose Caspian. In choosing Caspian, I lose Peter. Neither choice is painless. 

I glance toward the lion, "so am I right about this?"

I can’t leave without being sure. 

"You were never wrong," he smiles.

I switch my gaze to Trumpkin, the crowd of Narnians, and Telemarines. All of them await my next move. Swiftly, I plant a kiss on Caspian's cheek, preparing to rush after the Pevensies. I turn toward the tree with a smile, knowing in my heart this is right. I turn my back to the tree and begin to back away from Caspian as Peter did to me. I hold onto the Prince's hand until the last moment. Our fingertips barely touching.

"Goodbye for now," I phrase lightheartedly with a soft grin.

"Farewell-"

Caspian's words are cut short as my vision changes from the courtyard to a chaotic train station. I'm standing in the middle of the platform as people move about me. The peace of the courtyard is replaced with deafening noise. I blink rapidly, piecing together what's happened. I glance down at my clothes and I'm in my school uniform again. My hair wisps around as a train flies through the station. I'm back, I'm back in London! Peter. I need to find him!

Frantically, I shift between people, rushing through the station to find the Pevensies. They have no idea I'm here. It'll be like a needle in a haystack with everyone dressed in the same uniforms. Perhaps they're where we left for Narnia, by the bench! As the idea pops into my mind, I begin to run. I scan each head, each face, all looking for one. Then, in a flash, I spot the blonde speckled hair I've been longing to see. Peter paces in front of the bench, his eyes on the floor and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are red and his eyes bloodshot. His sisters and brother are huddled together by the bench, likely discussing their departure and my decision to stay. Little do they know...

"Peter!" I shout impulsively.

Peter whips his head around, searching the crowd for me. His glossy eyes are wide with surprise and his lips are parted. The other Pevensie children appear just as shocked. Then, he finds me. Amongst the crowd and chaos, his sea-glass eyes that I've been longing to see again since the moment he left have found me.

"Y/N?" He mouths breathlessly.

Peter begins to shove through the crowd, leaving his stunned siblings behind. I glide between bodies, excusing myself along the way. The seconds feel like hours as the distance dwindles but feels miles long. All I keep thinking is 'get to him! Get to him!' Before, I envisioned the riverbank. I longed for it. I couldn't see who was with me there in my visions until now, Peter. We were at peace, happy even. I believed the whole reason behind my want for those moments was to stay in Narnia. Yet, I've come to realize that it doesn't matter where I am, as long as it's with Peter.

In an instant, Peter's arms wrap around me and he frantically cradles my head, pressing it to his chest for dear life. He parts from me, cupping my face with astonishment.

He shouts, "what are you-"

Ignoring his words, I press my lips to his. Since the moment he disappeared all I wanted was to be with him again. At first, he's taken aback by my action, but after a second he comes to kiss me back. He cups my cheek and deepens the kiss. It’s salty, a mixture our of tears coming together. The world around us goes silent and nothing else matters. Despite everything, the war, the pain, the loss, this is where I'm meant to be. We part only to catch our breath.

"You came back?" He pants, lingering inches from my face. Now, tears of joy fall from his eyes. "But you're needed in Narnia! Aslan even said-"

"Destiny is a funny thing I've come to realize," I chuckle lightly with joy. "Everyone always speaks of it as though it must be an action or place. What if it's a person?"

The edge of his lips curl upward with pleasure, yet his brows scrunch together in confusion. "What happened to someday? You had the chance to be Queen! Grow old in Narnia! Caspian..."

"I was standing there, milliseconds after you left and I realized that none of it made any sense!" I explain breathlessly. "My world wouldn't be my world without you in it. Life wouldn't be worth living."

He gleams, overjoyed at my words. "So it's me?!"

"Oh silly boy, it's always been you," I giggle lightheartedly.

Peter releases a breathless laugh, emotional yet over the moon. He nods and swiftly brings his lips back to mine, holding my face in his hands longingly. No matter the world or time, I will follow him anywhere.

It's him. It's always been, Peter. Now, we have forever.

_____________________________________

Masterlist 

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23​ @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89​ @i-hav-no-life​ @damalseer​

#narnia imagine #narnia #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter #caspian x reader #prince caspian #prince capsian x reader #lucy pevensie

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 10

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot:   You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a   desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer:   Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help  your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

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Chapter 10: Wedding Plans

< | Previous Chapter

Your first night at the new kingdom was rough. You laid in your bed for hours, your blanket pulled to your chin. You wanted nothing more to sleep- it sounded like a blessing at the moment. It didn’t come easy, and you eventually moved to look out the window instead. The blanket hung around your shoulders as you did, a quiet sigh spilling from your lips. The view outside felt completely different at night, the soft glow of the moon spilling over the land. In the surrounding city you could make out the warm glow from the lamps. It was surreal, feeling so much more different than your home.

You pondered about what your life here would entail. Techno hadn’t really said too much. You figured you would be told as the days went on what to expect. You figured most of your time as of current would be dedicated to preparation for the wedding. Maybe even some training, if Techno found time to do so. You didn’t know what his duties would entail, and how similar they would be to George’s. You’d adjust inevitably. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on you, your gaze once more shifting to the bed longingly. You weren’t entirely sure if you would be able to fall asleep just yet. You pondered going to the library, but decided against it. That was on the other side of the castle. You didn’t have the confidence to go alone at night, either. Beyond Techno and his brothers, you didn’t know who to trust.

So, with a defeated sigh, you trudged back to the bed and wrapped the blanket tight around you. Might as well try to sleep. Absorbing yourself into your thoughts would only lead to exhaustion tomorrow. Which wasn’t what you really wanted. You knew tomorrow would inevitably be busy. The wedding had been mentioned multiple times, you knew there needed to be planning for that.

It felt like you had only blinked, head full of thoughts of the wedding, when you were cracking your eyes open. Light spilled into the room through the window you had gazed out of earlier, making you sigh. Breakfast. The thought made your stomach turn a little. This would be your first proper introduction to the court. Sure you knew plenty of people, but you had managed to evade dinner last night due to the tour. You couldn’t as easily escape the obligation of breakfast. If you did, your body would make you pay dearly later. Besides, you couldn’t avoid it forever.

You peeled yourself out of bed, wandering towards the closet. You wanted to make a good impression on everyone, without being so horribly overstated. You freted, before settling on one of your simpler dresses. You set it aside, thumbing through your jewelry for something to wear. You briefly ran your thumb over the necklace Dream had given you, marveling it. It was almost tempting to wear it, to have that comfort and security you had always felt with the blonde. Yet you decided against it, choosing something less understated that your mother had given you on one of your birthdays.

Once satisfied with the choice in clothes, you stole away to the bathroom. It had been a couple of days since you last bathed, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt. You did skeptically eye the full bath, trying to guess when servants had slipped into your room to fill it. No matter. Steam rolled along the surface of it, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you slid into it. It worked rather quickly to relax your muscles and nerves. You definitely needed that. You eyed the small shelf by the tub, picking up a few of the bottles to smell them.

One smelled of vanilla, which you deeply considered. The other you smelled carried the scent of rose and lemon, a scent you easily recognized. It was hardly different from the one you used at home, which you had forgotten to bring. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the base note of patchouli, and you did miss the earthiness just a touch. All the same, you were content that this was here, wherever it came from. You quickly used the bottle to help freshen yourself up. A quick run over with a damp cloth ensured you were rid of any dirt. As the water began to cool, you finally pulled yourself up and out of the tub to dress.

You lingered in the room, fingers running over your dress a few times. Nervously. You really didn’t want to walk into the dining hall alone. As if to answer your silent pleas, there was a knock on your door that you quickly answered. Techno stood on the other end, peering down at you through his glasses. You offered a soft smile, trying to hide your nerves.

“I figured I should walk with you to breakfast. Since we missed dinner and all,” He explained, but you only nodded. You stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you did so.

“Right, sorry about that, still. I appreciate you walking with me.” Your hands once more smoothed down over your dress, almost fussing on if your appearance was perfect. Who all would be there? Perhaps just a few other nobles, maybe the King’s advisors. It shouldn’t be too big, should it?

“Making things seem distant between us would only give people reason to dislike you.” The words only served to make you shudder, a frown on your face. You easily recalled Philza’s words of the advisor, the thought causing your stomach to turn. This was going to be a rough breakfast, you already knew.

“Right. Some people aren’t exactly excited about this. That’s fine. I’m prepared for that,” You muttered in an attempt to reassure yourself. Techno reached up, giving a reassuring pat against your back.

“They’re harmless. It doesn’t matter what they think,” Techno muttered as the pair of you descended the stairs. You sighed but nodded. He was right, honestly. It wasn’t like the king hated you, and the rest of the royal family seemed to at least not hate you. So long as they didn’t hate you, you hoped you could stomach the rest. From down the hall you could already hear Tommy making a fuss, causing you to smile. That helped ease your nerves. It was a different environment than you were used to.

You glanced at the table as you walked in, relieved by the familiar faces around the table. Techno moved towards his father, pausing to pull out one of the empty chairs and motioning you into it. Your eyes scanned the few unfamiliar faces as you sat down, trying to ease your anxiety.

“Mornin’ Techno! Mornin’ Techno’s wife!” Tommy called as Techno sat between you and his father, causing the pink-headed prince to glance at his brother.

“She’s not my wife yet, Tommy,” he simply clarified, sounding far from amused.

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?” Philza detracted the attention from his rambunctious nephew, offering you a smile. You relaxed a little, appreciating the older man’s words.

“I slept alright,” You murmured, offering a feeble smile. You hadn’t slept great, or all that much, and you had a feeling it showed on your face.

“It’s a new place, that’s always rough. I’m sure it’ll get better soon.” You could only nod at his words, thankful for the reassurance. He was nice, and truthfully you enjoyed that about him. He felt very much fatherly. Techno slid a cup in front of you, steam billowing from it. You smiled thankfully, offering a quiet thank you as you picked it up. Tea was definitely acceptable this early in the morning, especially as a slight chill clung to the castle.

The man sat beside Philza cleared his throat, offering a gentle smile. Your attention quickly turned to him, brow furrowing a little. He wasn’t someone you recognized- definitely didn’t meet him yesterday. “A pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Eret- cousin to those three.” He motioned to the prince’s as he talked, and you nodded slightly.

“Nice to meet you. Techno never mentioned having a cousin.” You set down the cup in your hands, glancing at Techno briefly. He furrowed his brow, a soft ‘heh?’ leaving him.

“He likes to forget about him.” Wilbur spoke up, causing Tommy to laugh. You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh.

“I don’t know how! Eret’s been here since he was little,” Tommy spoke between laughter, making your gaze turn back to the brunette across from you. He seemed almost embarrassed, shrugging.

“I’m sure Techno had a lot on his mind whenever he spoke of the kingdom, there’s a lot of people to remember here.” Eret didn’t seem too bothered by the lapse of information, and you shrugged.

“He mentioned Tubbo, though. Is he forgetful enough to mention a family friend as opposed to his actual family?” You teased, throwing a sly grin at Techno. It was easy to slip into this with the egging on of his brothers.

“Oh- Did he really? I mean, I practically did grow up with Tommy,” Tubbo asked, head popping up.

“You’re like a little brother to us, Tubbo. You were always there, Eret didn’t come to the kingdom until Techno was almost seven, remember?” Wilbur pushed, and the brunette seemed to purse his lips in thought.

“Not well, no. We love Eret anyways!” The man between Eret and Tubbo scoffed, a hand holding his head. Tired brown eyes stared at his plate, a glass bottle in hand. He looked rough, stubble lining his jaw and brown locks falling into his eyes. You eyed the brown liquid within the bottle as silence fell over the table.

“That’s Schlatt, the advisor Philza spoke of yesterday,” Techno’s voice came quietly against your ear, making you jump in surprise. When the hell had he gotten there? Your attention quickly turned back to the man as he took a drink from the bottle. Was that alcohol?

Physically, you could see the similarities between him and Tubbo, but that was about it. Even now, the younger brunette seemed largely uncomfortable next to him. It made your chest pang, wondering what all had happened to cause the rift in their relationship.

Schlatt stood up with a grunt, sloppily pushing in his chair. “Come on, Tubbo. We’ve got work to do,” Schlatt called. There was a drawl in his voice that made you rather uncomfortable. You didn’t like him, and you had a feeling it was similar to the way the princes felt towards him.

Tubbo looked down to his plate, seemingly steeling himself. “Yes, Schlatt,” he muttered softly. What had Schlatt done that had made the brunette become so quiet? You didn’t like it one bit. Before Tubbo could even move to follow his father, you spoke out.

“Actually, I was hoping I could borrow Tubbo for today!” Tubbo’s head snapped up at that, eyes wide. You blinked, not even sure what you were saying. Schlatt stopped his walk, bottle hanging from his hand as he turned to look at you. Perhaps glare was a better word? You swallowed, steeling yourself as you continued, “I’d really appreciate his input on the wedding plans.”

“The wedding,” Schlatt sneered, eyes narrowed. His gaze moved from you, to Techno, then to his son. “Whatever, take the bastard for the ridiculous wedding. Like I give a damn.” With his words, he took a swig from the bottle before sauntering out of the dining hall. With his leave, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

A relieved sigh escaped Tubbo’s lips as he slumped in his seat, closing his eyes. “Thank you so much,” He mumbled into his hands. You sighed, shaking your head a little. Not exactly what you had expected, but you’d take it. 

“I hate that he keeps calling you that,” Tommy grumbled, while Wilbur just patted his shoulder.

“It gets him away from Schlatt for today, so what’s it matter?” Wilbur offered with a shrug. Tommy just continued to grumble under his breath while Tubbo offered a weak smile.

“You don’t actually have to help with the wedding. I just didn’t feel right leaving you to go with him.” You brushed it off with a smile. It was true, though. You truly didn’t want to send Tubbo off with Schlatt. The man gave off a bad vibe you didn’t like in the slightest. So, coming up with an excuse seemed the most feasible. The king sighed and shook his head, otherwise staying quiet. You had a feeling this wasn’t too different from a normal morning.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping! If everyone doesn’t mind,” Tubbo sheepishly chimed, moving to rub the nape of his neck. Tommy groaned dramatically, slouching in his chair.

“Tubbo, come on. You’re gonna make us do stupid wedding planning all day? With Eret and Wilbur and Techno? At one time?” You snickered a little as he complained, head shaking. Wilbur smacked him in the back of his head in response to his dramatics.

“Your opinion doesn’t count, Tommy.” His voice was so plain, even as the young blonde whined and rubbed the back of his head.

“I’ll show you what does count! I swear, I’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to remember your own name!” He shoved at his brother, and you shook your head.

“I don’t mind if you tag along, Tubbo. I’m sure the input will be appreciated,” You spoke over the ruckus of Wilbur and Tommy as the two pushed at each other. The words seemed to make Tubbo glow with excitement, almost as if the whole thing with Schlatt hadn’t ever happened.

“Alright, boys, go outside before you break a plate or the table. Go on, do your fighting there.” Philza spoke from behind them, and your head popped up. He must have moved while you were focused on Tubbo. Tommy was stuck beneath Wilbur’s arm, the older yanking him around. Philza unceremoniously pulled out the chairs they sat on, forcing them apart as he shooed them away. He looked exasperated, but fond of their antics all the same.

“I’ll judge!” Tubbo called, standing up hurriedly. He gave a brief, sloppy bow towards the king before running after the two princes.

“Is it like this every morning?” You sat down your utensils, reclining in your seat.

“Not every morning, but a lot of them. It wasn’t always this way,” Eret shook his head but smiled. You turned to Techno, where he stared towards the door with an affectionate look in his eyes. It was almost sweet, seeing the way he gazed after the rambunctious trio.

“It only started to get like that a few years ago. Not quite becoming of princes, but they don’t seem in a rush to behave like royalty.” Techno’s voice had the same fondness his gaze did, and you hummed in acknowledgement as you sipped the last of your tea, cradling the cup close.

“Not anymore, at least. We should go and start doing some planning ourselves,” Philza muttered, turning towards the king. The man nodded, slowly rising from his seat.

“Please see to it your brothers don’t destroy anything this time, Technoblade.” He gave him a pointed look, making him sigh and nod. The king walked away, Philza tailing behind him. Leaving you, Techno, and Eret sitting.

“Well, let’s get started? There’s no telling how long it’ll take. Especially since Wilbur is currently in the process of fighting Tommy.” Eret shook his head as he spoke. You nodded, moving to stand. A hand entered your vision before you could even get to your feet. You shook your head, unable to help a laugh.

“Should I get used to you not letting me get out of my seat on my own?” You managed a lighthearted jab at him as you took his hand, allowing him to gently pull you up.

“Yes.” The way he said it was so flat and monotone, you couldn’t stop the laugh bursting from your lips. You just shook your head, giving a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, Techno. Wanting to teach me to fight but not letting me get out of a chair without hovering.” His lips pursed at that, eyebrows furrowing. Like he saw nothing wrong with it. Not that there truly was, it just seemed almost contradictory. Eret even seemed equally amused, though he didn’t poke at his cousin the way you did.

“I’ll go ahead and get the boys before they destroy each other. I’ll meet you in the ballroom with them.” Techno gently pushed you towards his cousin, before striding off in front of you. You shrugged, walking alongside Eret towards the ballroom.

“It’s gonna be an interesting day, isn’t it?” You questioned, glancing up at Eret. Of course he was tall. It really did run in the family.

“Most likely, yes. They’re never quiet, and Tommy gets antsy quick,” Eret said with a laugh, making you smile. You didn’t think you would mind too much if it made it lively. It would take care of the uneasiness you felt regarding the wedding. A relief to the tension you had a feeling might form if it were just you and Techno.

“You didn’t always live here at the castle?” You broached the silence that had spread over the pair of you, and he hummed a little.

“No. I came around the time I was eight. Their mother was my aunt, and some things happened with my parents. Philza ended up adopting me, so I’m just a cousin on their other side now,” He chuckled, and you nodded. That made some sense. It just seemed the castle was hardly lacking in boys to run the place.

“I see. I imagine that keeps it rather busy here.” You shook your head, following as Eret opened the door to the ballroom.

“Very. Right! This is where the majority of the wedding will be held. The celebrations, namely. The formal ceremony will be held in the gardens, we’ll go through those in a little bit.” Eret clapped his hands together, leading you through the ballroom. He pointed to various spots, explaining the plans he had for the celebrations. You would nod along, pitching in your own opinions when you felt it necessary.

“I think you should go to the brothel and get some women,” A new voice chimed in from near the veranda, making you jump.

“I like the way you think, Big Q! It’s not a party without some women!” Tommy responded, and you turned towards the voices. You blinked at the new person standing among the princes, a lopsided grin on his face. His black hair was splayed messily on his head, smudges of dirt along his face. You had a feeling he had been messing with the other, who also had dirt on their faces and bodies. What a mess. Tubbo and Tommy even seemed to have a few forming bruises on their arms, Tommy’s hidden by the same green bandana he had worn in the portrait you saw in the dining hall. 

“I don’t think the princess is fond of the idea of there being whores at her wedding, Quackity,” Wilbur piped up upon seeing your rather deadpan face. The expression was similarly mimicked by Techno, who stood behind the four of them.

“Princess? Oh- shit!” Quackity did a double take, before giving a hurried bow. Seemingly remembering exactly who he was talking to. Amusement at the almost embarrassed look on his face caused your lips to twitch up into a smile.

“Right. Yes. I would prefer there to not be women from the brothel at my wedding, Quackity.” You tested his name out carefully, and he slowly stood up from his bow. Tommy snickered from behind him, failing to hide his amusement at the fool he seemingly made for himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing softly.

“I would also prefer to keep it that way,” Techno said as he stepped around the group, back towards you. He stood on your other side, leaving you in the middle of the two men. Which made you feel incredibly small.

“You two are so boring, what’s the fun without women?” Tommy groaned, trailing behind Wilbur and Tubbo as they wandered over as well. 

“You’ll have fun anyways, Tommy. You always manage.” Tubbo barely looked at his friend, eagerly listening to Eret as he went over what he had been telling you once more. The group gathered around you, but you hardly minded right now.

“I was thinking, Tubbo and I could do some of the music. We’ll have other musicians too, but I think it’d be nice to be able to play. It’s not every day your little brother gets married,” Wilbur talked, grinning over to Techno. Techno huffed, head shaking as the older affectionately threw out the term.

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” You lit up with a smile, fully on board with the idea. Wilbur smiled back, seemingly fond of your approval.

“And,” he started, his grin turning almost mischievous, “I think it would be even better if our groom here plays a piece himself. You do play violin after all, Techno.” The words made your hopeful gaze turn towards Techno. He looked almost neutral, though his eyebrows were furrowed and a faint flush painted his cheeks.

“Well, I-” He grumbled, looking down to you and your soft smile. He gave an almost frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. I’ll play something.” He huffed a little.

“Perfect! So we’ve got rough plans for the ballroom decorations and the music.” You clapped your hands together, grinning.

“What the hell, Techno? You never play for anyone!” Tommy whined, eyes wide as he looked between you and him.

“It is his wedding, Tommy. It’s only fitting he plays,” Tubbo defended. Tommy, Tubbo, and Quackity bickered about Techno’s playing as Eret led that large group towards the veranda. Techno held your hand as you went down the stairs. Tommy made a mocking gag sound, and Quackity simply imitated Techno, holding his hand out for Tommy.

“Quackity, stop it, I’m not holding your hand,” Tommy complained, nose wrinkling. You shook your head, eyes rolling. They really were like children. 

You peered at the flowers as you walked to the gardens, looking for any you recognized. Eret spoke about the plans, and you absently nodded along. At least until he showed you where the ceremony would be held. “Here?” You murmured curiously, looking at the flowers. Your fingers ran over the petals, trying to note the flowers you did see. The easiest to identify was the roses- why was it always roses? Red bled into the white from the edges, and you smiled just slightly. They were pretty, most of the ones back home were either red, white, or yellow. Rarely hybrids. The only time you received a hybrid of one was from dream, but they were never red and white. Always red and yellow.

Curled near the roses stood a plant with broad green leaves and occasional clumps of pink flowers. It was faintly familiar, and you struggled to place it. You remembered Dream stating that they weren’t the best flower, trying his best to remove it from the gardens. You had no idea why, though, as it seemed to be doing just fine here. A hand grabbed yours as you went to run your fingers along the leaves, tugging it away.

“Careful,” Techno mumbled. He dropped your hand, lifting the leaves carefully. Behind them was a thick branch, coated in thorns. You had barely noticed them, stretching out about an inch. You had been so focused on the flowers.

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning back towards Eret with a soft smile. “This’ll do wonderful. What’s next?”

“That’s most of the basic stuff for decoration at the moment. I think Nihachu wanted to discuss catering? I have to get some stuff together for your dress, but I can come find you when I have,” Eret explained. You nodded, seemingly content with the idea.

“Do we have to come along?” Tommy groaned loudly, clearly growing bored with all of the proceedings. You laughed, head shaking.

“You never had to, Tommy. I think the only people obligated are Techno and I.” You shrugged, letting the group move back towards the castle.

“Come on then, Tubbo. Let’s get out of here, this is so damn boring.” The brunette looked towards you as if for confirmation, and you simply waved your hand. You didn’t expect them to truly tag along for too long. Especially Tommy, he didn’t seem the patient type to deal with planning.

“I’ll come check in later!” Tubbo tried to offer as Tommy, and Quackity, practically dragged him off. For what, you had no idea, but you didn’t want to ask questions. This thinned out the large group, allowing you to let out a soft breath. It was less crowded, which you definitely appreciated.

“Nihachu said she’d be in the dining hall with some samples of food for you to try,” Wilbur spoke, pausing at the top of the veranda. He watched Techno help you up, Eret slipping away from the three of you to go do what he needed.

“Sounds good with me,” You hummed. This might be one of the longer parts of the day, but you didn’t mind. Food was important, especially for a wedding. Even if it was stunning with beautiful music, you knew it would feel empty without proper food. As most celebrations would. Inside the dining hall was the same woman Wilbur was with the day prior, fussing over various plates on the table.

“Nihachu!” Wilbur called, causing the blonde to look up. She grinned up at him, practically bounding over to him to give him a hug. 

“Staying to taste the food?” She asked, focusing on him for a few moments.

“I’d never miss an excuse to eat it outside of meals.” He ruffled her hair, making her wrinkle her nose. She turned towards you and Techno, grin softening to a smile as she curtseyed slightly. 

“I’m Nihachu, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” She greeted warmly. You couldn’t help but return the smile, almost relieved to see another woman among the boys you seemed constantly surrounded by.

“You too. It’s a blessing to have someone who isn’t a prince to deal with.”

“Hey!” Wilbur gasped in offense, echoed by Techno’s quiet ‘Heh?’ of confusion. Nihachu only laughed, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Come on, there’s lots to try and discuss. Everything can be mixed and matched, as well. We have plenty of time between now and the wedding to refine everything.” She motioned the three of you towards the table, pointing to various dishes and explaining them to you. Some of them were unbelievably good, and you made sure to point that out. She seemed pleased with the praise each time, making note to include whatever you praised into the catering.

As she pointed to one of the dishes, you noted the ring on her finger, piquing your interest. “Are you married?” You asked without much thought, motioning to the simple band. Nihachu glanced to the ring, cheeks reddening slightly.

“Oh-! No, not yet, at least. It’s a ring my girlfriend gave me to promise she only had good intentions,” She murmured in embarrassment. Wilbur laughed beside her, trying and failing to hide the fact. She pushed at him slightly, trying to bring the focus back to the food instead. 

After a couple of hours of tasting and discussing, it was finally finished. She seemed content with the feedback, promising she would make sure everything was perfect. She actually seemed quite ecstatic to have the job she did. She simply took the paper she made her notes on, running off towards the kitchens once more.

“Right, all that’s left is the dress. Eret is setting up in one of the spare rooms,” Wilbur informed, motioning towards the exit. “I’m going to help Nihachu clear this.” You looked on in amusement as Wilbur began picking up plates, finding it hilarious that a prince was taking care of dirty dishes. All the same, you didn’t say anything and left the room with Techno. He was quiet as he led you towards the spare rooms, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you need me to help with the dress?” He murmured, not exactly looking at you as he hovered outside the door. You blinked a little, processing the information. He didn’t want to help? Then you realized you were probably getting measurements taken, and who knew what else. Was he too embarrassed to help?

“I should be fine. Why don’t you go talk to your father about getting Tubbo a room here? Get him away from Schlatt,” you offered an alternative with a smile. A look of relief flooded his eyes, and he nodded.

“I’ll come get you in a while,” He informed, watching as you slid into the room. Eret smiled at you from where he was hovering over various fabrics, motioning you towards the middle of the room.

“I see everyone decided to abandon you,” he joked, picking up a strip of paper and walking towards you. All too familiar with the process that was about to happen, you lifted your arms. Eret took the paper, placing it against your arm and marking it.

“Wilbur decided to stick with Nihachu, and Techno really was trying to find a reason to not come in here,” You laughed, watching as Eret moved around, taking various measurements and marking them onto the strip he was using.

“That sounds like him. You send him off?” He leaned down, wrapping the strip around your waist snuggly.

“Told him to talk to his father about getting Tubbo one of the spare rooms in the castle, the boys mentioned it yesterday and I see why.”

“Schlatt is questionable at best. It would do Tubbo good to get away from him. I need to measure your legs,” He murmured, eyebrows furrowing. His cheeks painted pink, and he seemed to have only just realized what it entailed.

“It’s just measurements, Eret. It’s not scandalous,” you muttered reassuringly. You shifted the skirts of your dress as needed. Eret fell silent, seemingly embarrassed as he crouched in front of you to do the needed measurements on your legs. You tried your best to not laugh at how flustered he seemed, keeping any comments to yourself.

“Right, okay,” he cleared his throat, standing up and walking back towards the fabrics. You followed, peering over his shoulder. “Is this everything you were hoping for?”

“It’s… not, no. I never really planned to have a wedding with the prince of another kingdom, let alone one who was to become king. I thought I’d marry a noble in my own kingdom and live out my life there,” You explained. Eret picked up one of the white fabrics, holding it against your body and examining it. For what, exactly, you weren’t sure. Still, you let him do as he needed.

“That makes sense. Are you disappointed with this, though?” He seemed to want to talk, but you weren’t entirely against it. Not many people had cared to ask you how you felt about this whole thing. 

“No, not at all. It presents options I was never granted back home.” Eret held up a delicate lace, layering it over a fabric to hold against you.

“Good. Hopefully everything turns out as you want it to. I think that should be all now? There’s not too much to be done until the dress is actually made,” He murmured, setting the fabrics down.

“Perfect, just call on me whenever you need me to check in or anything.” You beamed, only glancing at the fabrics as he continued to shift through them. You truly trusted him on whatever he was deciding to make. Everyone here seemed competent enough, though it made you feel a little useless. You supposed all you could do truly was offer feedback, which they seemed content with. 

Techno was leaned against a wall outside the room, glancing up when you opened the door. You smiled at him, and he simply pushed off the wall, motioning towards where your rooms were. “Get changed, put on pants,” He said flatly, making you arch an eyebrow at him.

“What for, exactly?” You questioned, following him all the same.

“Unless you want to learn to fight in a dress.” He glanced at you, eyebrows raised in question. Your stomach flipped in excitement, and you desperately suppressed the urge to run to your room.

“I think pants would be better for that,” you laughed, nerves leaking through the sound. Finally, you were going to learn to fight. Next Chapter | >

#dream team #dream smp #technoblade #technoblade x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #reader insert #kingdom au #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois family #t&t

[arlen801]

Ages in Gakuen Bungo Stray Dogs (Headcanon)

To clarify, according to what I translated, after elementary school, education continues with middle and high school.

Middle school = first 3 years in Bungo Academy

High school = last 3 years

And from there, they go to university

Just in case, Dazai has repeated the year several times, I was making the table in a random order and I mention this data of Dazai with other younger characters.

Remember that these ages are not canon, this is just an opinion of mine.

If you speak Spanish, here the original post in that language.

Enjoy reading!

Kyoka Izumi

14

It is specified that she is in middle school so she could be between 12 to 14 years old

Gin Akutagawa

15

She is mentioned once, and since she is Aku's younger sister, she would be one year younger

Atsushi Nakajima

15

Specified to be in first year of high school

Kenji Miyazawa

15

Specified to be in first year of high school

Naomi Tanizaki

15

Kunikida mentions her but it is not specified which grade she is in. She is also mentioned in the game

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

16

Specified to be in first year of high school, one year older than Atsushi to keep the dynamic of Aku being older

Junichiro Tanizaki

16

He's mentioned a couple of times but it doesn't say his grade, I think he's in first year of high school but I still chose that age xd

Ranpo Edogawa

16

I think he's in second year of high school. It's not specified but… He's the president of the student council and at least in my country you can run for that when you're in second year of "bachillerato", equivalent to the year Ranpo would be in.

Akiko Yosano

17

I already found out that she's in her third year of high school.

Chuuya Nakahara

17

It is specified that she is in third year of high school

Ango Sakaguchi

18

Specified to be in third year of high school

Tatsuhiko Shibusawa

18

Goes to the same school as Fyodor, I don't get the impression that he is a repeater

Albatross

19

I haven't read STORM BRINGER yet, but I choose that age since it's mentioned that he gave Chuuya a bike when Chuuya transferred schools so I guess this kid is a student in that school(?)

Chuuya's friends (Flags)

17-20

As I said I haven't read that novel but in an interview it is mentioned that Chuuya wants to meet with them since "there will always be a chance to meet while we are alive"

Fyodor Dostoevsky

20

To me this guy is a repeater just like Dazai, it is mentioned that he goes to another school

Osamu Dazai

21

He is in his third year of high school, but it is constantly specified that he has repeated years many times because he spent more time in the hospital than in school

Sakunosuke Oda

24

He is doing his internship in education, which means that he is in his last years of university.

Paul Verlaine

27

Chuuya's older brother, here they are 10 years apart, period.

Arthur Rimbaud

27

Same age as Verlaine and that's it

Kajii Motojiro

28

Tutor in Atsushi's class, so he remains his canon age xd

Doppo Kunikida

30

A coherent age in my opinion(? He is also a teacher at this AU

Yukichi Fukuzawa

40

Headmaster of the school, about 5 years younger than the original since in an art of this AU, he looked very young.

Ougai Mori

40

Forty-year-old ped0phile vice principal, literally mentioned that he looks out the window at little girls from an elementary school nearby

#english translation #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs gakuen #gakuen bungou stray dogs #chuuya #bsd #akutagawa ryunosuke #chuuya nakahara #dazai #kunikida doppo #yosano akiko #ranpo edogawa

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer I

Part 01: Pick Me Up, No Headlights

series masterlist | next part

summary: It’s your first summer in the Outer Banks.

a/n: I'm so so so excited to introduce my new obx series! This whole thing is based off the song Style by Taylor Swift (which I'm sure you've picked up on lol!) This series is going to be about Rafe during HS so Summer I = the summer before 9th grade and so on and so forth. Enjoy!!

word count: 2k

The Outer Banks was a little bit like a fantasy. The way your mom talked about growing up under the North Carolina heat with her fearless twin brother, Austin, the decades-long feud between the Kooks and the Pogues, the endless summers, it all felt like a movie. There was a specific smile that snuck onto her face when she talked about the place. Their parents had moved away from OBX to the mountains while she was still in college and she’d never been back. Last September, her father's health had taken a turn for the worse and he passed away rather unexpectedly. Your uncle had suggested to your grandmother that she should move back to the Outer Banks since she was also so happy there. To the shock of everyone and your Nonna bought a house on Figure Eight, just a street over from the home your mother been raised in, and moved back to NC.

You’d flown into the tiny Outer Banks airport two days after the Fourth of July and, so far the sky had stayed crystal blue the entire week you’ve been there. It had been great to have some time with your grandmother all to yourself. The house on Figure Eight was huge; you definitely understood why she’d asked your mother if she would spare one of her three daughters to keep her company for the summer. Having the echoing house all to herself sounded glum. Your older sister was spending the summer in Italy for a college-writing program and since you know how to weaponize your middle child charm, you talked your mom into sending you to OBX rather easily.  

“Nonna,” you called down, leaning over the balcony at the top of the stairs. “I can’t find my sandals and I don’t have any other shoes to wear to the Club for lunch.” 

Your grandmother walked into the foyer and looked up at you. “y/n you know I can’t understand you when you yell from upstairs.” She turned around and walked back into the kitchen. You sighed under your breath careful that she didn’t hear you since you’d gotten in trouble for doing that yesterday. 

Your mother use to complain about the way that her mom always felt the need to act - and have her children act - so posh during her childhood but those stories seemed so strange to you. Like a Nonna from a past life, not the one you knew. However, it seemed the Outer Banks had reignited her need to act sophisticated all the time. 

You double-check your appearance in the mirror and then resigned to searching the downstairs of the house for your shoes. 

☼☼☼

Nonna was busy making small talk with some of the other ladies at the Club after lunch but you were antsy to get back to the beach while the sun was still at its peak. You had had all the polite smiling and nodding you could take in an afternoon. 

“I’m gonna- ” you pointed in the direction of the Club bathrooms and your Nonna waved her hand dismissively. You turned on your heel and headed away from her and the others. 

You pushed open the door and was surprised at the quietness. You double-checked under all the stalls to make sure no one else was in there before sitting on the counter and resting the back of your head against the mirror. You knew you were probably smudging the glass but you needed a minute from all it. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t totally in love with the Outer Banks. It was just that your mom seemed to leave out the strenuously boring parts of her childhood - the small talk, the lunches, the emphasis on class. Plus, on top of that, it seems your grandfather’s death has rattled your Nonna deeper than she cared to admit and she’d become overly cautious about everything. She was keeping a much tighter leash on you than was really needed, or so you thought. 

The door swung open and you jumped off the counter hoping whoever had just entered didn’t see you sitting atop it. The young girl stopped rummaging in her cross-body bag and glanced look to meet your gaze. She had on a green and white polka-doted dress and her dirty blonde hair spilled over her shoulders. She looked young, maybe 13 or 14 you guessed. 

“Oh. Hi!” She said. 

“Hi,” you responded. She walked over to stand next to you facing the mirror. She pulled a pink lipgloss out of her purse and ran it over her top and bottom lips before recapping it. 

“Hiding out in here?” She asked. She took your moment of hesitation as an answer. “Yeah, me too. It’s by far the best hiding place. Plus my dad can’t come into the ladies' restroom so it buys me a little time.” She laughed, seemingly at the thought of her dad barging into a women’s bathroom. She looked over at you. “Not to pry but I don’t think I’ve seen at the Club before. Just visiting?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m staying with my Nonna, my grandma, for the summer. I got in last week.” 

The girl smiled big. “The Outer Banks is ah-mazing. Sarah Cameron, by the way.” 

Her genuineness brought a smile to your own face. “I’m so happy to meet you, Sarah. I’m y/n. I haven’t gotten to meet a lot of other kids yet.” 

“I’m not really supposed to know this but my brother talks obnoxiously loud on the phone so it’s really not my fault for eavesdropping, but there’s a beach bonfire tonight down at the cove...it’s a Kook party spot.” She clarified after seeing the confusion on my face. “I’m sure he’d be cool with you tagging along.” Sarah reached into her bag and held out her phone. “Put your number in. I’ll pass it along to him.” 

“Thank you so much,” you said, your heart feeling warmed by this girl's kindness. 

“Yeah, of course,” she stepped forward and wrapped you in an unexpected hug before she exited, leaving the door swinging in her wake. 

☼☼☼

Your phone rang with an unknown number that afternoon around five, just after you’d gotten back from the beach. You answered the call and tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you finished rinsing off your sandy feet. 

Sarah’s voice filled the speaker. “Hey y/n, so I told Rafe about you and asked about the party. He said he’ll pick you at 10. Okay? Text me your address so I can give it to him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay! Umm...one question Sarah. What do I wear to this bonfire?” You asked. 

A friendly laughed echoed through the phone. “Put your bikini under a sweatshirt and some short. You’ll be fine.” 

“Um also one more thing,” You said. 

“Sure!” Sarah replied.

“I think don’t think my Nonna would be too thrilled about me going to this party so could you ask Rafe to turn off the headlights when he get’s here. She sleeps on the first floor and I’m trying not to get caught sneaking out.” 

“Trust me, I know.” You wondered how much 13-year old could possibly know about sneaking out but Sarah was becoming your one friend on the island so you just went with it. 

“Thank you Sarah. I owe you.” 

“I think you’re gonna get along with Rafe great. Okay, talk to you later. Bye y/n!” The phone beeped as Sarah ended the call. You slipped it back into your beach bag and grabbed your towel off the ground, feeling grateful for your new friend. 

☼☼☼

Rafe had shown up at 10:03, a text from another unknown number appeared on your phone announcing his arrival. You'd climbed out of your second-story window and down the attached porch with a surprising amount of ease, only slipping once.

You'd opened the door to the black car and slipped into Rafe’s passenger seat, slight of breath.

Rafe chuckled light. "Hi," he said.

You glanced over, your eyes locking with yours and words escaped you. So Sarah has forgotten to mention her brother was hot. Like the kind of hot girls always giggled about when they passed him in the school hallway. The kind of hot he could probably get away with murder if he just flashed the cops a smile.

That same deadly smile was spreading across his face now. His tongue darted out of his mouth wetting his bottom lip.

"Hi," you squeaked out.

Rafe shifted the car into drive, still refusing to break the eye contact first.

"Should we go?" You asked, your nerves no less unsettled.

Rafe raised his eyebrow conspicuously before turning his head back to focus on the road.

The tension was already killing you and you'd spent less than five minutes together. That was the first moment you realized what Rafe was going to do to your life.

☼☼☼

Your phone pinged as you say around the little bone fire listening to the others talking about the Fourth. You were slowly starting to piece together the names and faces of the other Kooks Rafe had introduced you to.

There was Cole, Milo and Sawyer, who seemed to be Rafe's best friends. Cleo and Riley who welcomed you rather warmly. And Phoebe who had kept her eyes on you all-night in a threatening way that you had tried your best to brush off.

You pulled your phone out of your shorts pocket to see a text from Rafe on the screen.

'Wanna head out?'

You glanced at Rafe to find his eyes already trained at you. You read his text again before nodding your head yes at him.

You turned to Cleo sitting next to you. "It was nice to meet you. I think Rafe and I are gonna go."

"Oh, yeah okay!" She replied. "Wait," she pulled her own phone out of her pocket. "Put your number in. I'll add you to all our group chats. Rafe made it seem like you're gonna be around this summer so you're welcome to hang with us anytime!"

"Yeah, I'm here through August!" You said, smiling at Cleo's offer, taking the phone from her hand.

While you were typing your number into Cleo's phone, Rafe had materialized behind you.

"Thank you so much," you said handing Cleo back her phone.

"Of course!" Cleo replied, her eyes shifting away from your face to look up at Rafe. "Bye Rafe."

"See you later Cleo," he said. "Ready?" He asked looking down at you.

"Hmmhmm," you said before standing up, waving bye to the rest of the group and following Rafe back to his parked car.

"I didn't have anything to drink tonight," Rafe said as you settled into the passenger seat next to him.

"Okay," you replied, thinking back on the night but not remembering Rafe with a solo cup in his hand ever.

"Okay," he repeated back. "I just want to make sure you knew. I wouldn't ever do something that could hurt you."

"Okay," you said again, trying not to read to deep into his comment.

"What you'd think of everyone?" He asked.

"They're nice," you offered. "Different from friends back home."

"Oh, well I hope you'd keep hanging out with me...with us" he paused, quickly correcting himself.

You glanced at Rafe out of the corner of your eye, "Yeah, okay. That sounds good."

"Cool." Rafe said.

His hand on the gear shift twitched, moving the slightest inch closer toward you. You swore you could feel him wanting to grab your hand, to interlaced his fingers with yours but he didn't. His hand stayed in place, his eyes on the road watching as the headlights of the car on the opposite side of the two- lane road grew closer and closer.

Your eyes grew suddenly big with panic and Rafe looked at you with fear written all over his face as you both realized the car was plowing down the wrong side of the street. It was on your side of the road and it was going to hit you.

Rafe frantically spun the wheel trying to avoid the oncoming car but there wasn't enough time.

Your body flew forward on impact before the resistance of the seatbelt caused you to snap back. You felt Rafe’s hand hold onto yours as your eyelids closed and the world faded to black.

#where it leads #where it leads series #obx netflix #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks series #outer banks fic #obx fic

[prince-of-elsinore]

Sam and Dean: psychological analysis and headcanons

In response to this anon ask from the 66 SPN Questions:

6. Do you have any psychological headcanons (or canon interpretations) of the characters?

Anon, this is probably not what you asked for. But I started writing, and kept finding more I wanted to say, until I thought--why not just say it all? And by all, I  don't actually mean all--this is by no means exhaustive. But it was a wonderful, self-indulgent opportunity to organize my thoughts on Sam and Dean's psychologies, and even find some new ideas as I was writing, and to put them out there so others can read and discuss. (Always happy to discuss any of this! Inbox is open.)

As a disclaimer, I know most of these thoughts are probably not original and may be retreads of many things fandom has been discussing for years. I'm not claiming to be breaking new ground here. Also, I sorta float backwards and forwards chronologically in my discussion--some parts pertain more to them when they're young, some to when they're older, and I don't always clarify which. Also, these are generalizations! I point out patterns I notice; that doesn't make them all hard and fast rules, because Sam and Dean are each human and complex!

Here's what you'll find below:

1. Core motivations 2. Happiness 3. Approval and secrets 4. Approval from authority figures 5. Need and attachment re: others 6. Sympathy and empathy 7. Walls—hiding vs. performing 8. Need and attachment re: each other 9. Ambitions and goals 10. Normality and monstrosity 11. Guilt and self-loathing 12. Autonomy and sacrifice 13. Personal identity 14. Concluding observation

1. Core motivations: Dean’s purpose is to protect Sam, obviously. Sam’s purpose, though a little less clear, is to save Dean. Sometimes it’s explicit, as in s3 and s9-10. But I think Sam also wants to save Dean, in general, from himself and from the life. It’s why he pushes against Dean’s obedience to their father. It’s why he tells him to get out and go to Lisa after he jumps in the Cage. At a certain point, I think Sam accepts he can’t “save” Dean without changing who he is, so he chooses to stick by him—because at least then he can make Dean happy.

2. Happiness: Dean’s happiness—or perhaps contentment is a better word—is knowing that Sam is safe and alive. Sam’s happiness is Dean being happy. In Sam’s world, things are good when Dean’s good. I think that, conversely, Dean wants Sam to be happy, and Sam wants Dean to be safe, but they both know and to an extent accept that those things are not within their control, so they focus on what they feel they can control.

3. Approval and secrets: They are each other’s north stars, guiding principles, in different ways. For Dean it’s “look out for Sammy,” for Sam it’s “what would my big brother think/do.” Dean doesn’t need Sam’s approval. Sure, he loves it when Sam admires him, but if he feels he needs to do something against Sam’s approval, he doubles down because approval from Sam is not the top priority. He’ll do what he thinks is right, especially to keep Sam safe, no matter what Sam thinks about it. Sam, on the other hand, does crave Dean’s approval and cares very much about his opinion. It doesn’t mean he won’t go against Dean (all the conflict of s1-5!), but it affects him differently. This leads to different kinds of secret-keeping: Sam goes behind Dean’s back to avoid his disapproval; Dean goes behind Sam’s back so that Sam doesn’t interfere with what he thinks needs to be done.

4. Approval from authority figures: Dean does crave approval from others—specifically, respected authority figures. The big one is obviously John. I think in a way it’s Mary, too, when she comes back. But it only applies as long as the person has his respect. Sam doesn’t crave approval from other authorities in the same way, perhaps because his primary authority figure growing up was Dean.

5. Need and attachment re: others: Sam is the only person Dean cannot live without, but he also makes outside connections of a friendly nature fairly easily. He’s the more socially outgoing brother who latches onto people like Gordon, gets friendly with Ash, and forges connections with Jo and Charlie, just to name a few (and Castiel at times—though their relationship is so inconsistent and often convenience-based I hesitate to include it in this category). Though Sam is Dean’s core need, I do think Dean thrives with other friendships. I’m not talking about found family, though I’m well aware of Dean’s tendency to call people “family” quite readily. Honestly, I think this is a manifestation of his craving for connection with others. Dean has an affectionate and playful nature, and let’s face it, Sam isn’t always super receptive to that—so naturally, Dean seeks out people who are. (I think this is also, in some cases, related to Dean’s craving for approval from others). Of course, none of those other relationships come close to the depth of his relationship with Sam, and when his relationship with Sam is at its best, I don’t think Dean really needs anything else to sustain him. But in reality, it can’t always be at its best.

Sam, on the other hand, doesn’t forge outside connections easily—but when he does, they tend to be deeper than Dean’s easy casual associations (even when Dean has real affection for someone, he tends to keep the tone of the relationship light). It’s pretty clear Sam was a loner kid, and I imagine it took him a while to find friends at Stanford, and even though he loved Jessica he still clearly kept many secrets. That’s the thing with Sam—he’s got walls. Dean’s got his own walls, but they’re different. Sam can seem emotionally open, but he protects his innermost self very carefully and rarely puts his emotions out there in a truly open way—even less than Dean does. I think this is a consistent personality trait for Sam, not one born of trauma (though perhaps exacerbated by it at times). In fact, it’s in later seasons that I see Sam finally, in rare moments, let down those walls, with Rowena and Jack. When he’s young, I think this was partially a coping mechanism he developed for hiding his desires/feelings, even from himself, because he was so unhappy with his life. It means that even though he’s an introspective guy, he’s not as self-aware as he thinks he is until he’s older and more mature. He’s very good at self-deception when he’s young, because as a thinker, he can convince himself of just about anything.

To circle back to attachment, what this means to me is that Sam, while he certainly appreciates close friendships and has a lot to offer those he cares about, doesn’t crave friends in the way that Dean does. I think he desires to be understood (this is a natural human need) but he’s much more comfortable with himself than Dean is, and is somewhat of a loner by nature. This means he’s also not (usually) going to be too affected by the status of his relationships with others. Dean is much more volatile and easily hurt by others (this is where Castiel is a great example).

6. Sympathy and empathy: On the surface, Sam appears to be the caring, sensitive brother, while Dean is brash and insensitive. This is a very incomplete picture, however. It mostly comes down to the difference between sympathy and empathy. Empathy is an involuntary response, whereas sympathy is something that a person chooses to express, though that doesn’t make it necessarily superficial—it also comes from an emotional place. Dean tends to be more empathetic, and Sam more sympathetic. Dean, despite his performative walls, is more easily affected on a visceral level by others’ emotions. He is more sensitive, more easily hurt or swayed to anger, and also more easily experiences empathy. This has nothing to do with what Dean thinks is right—it’s another involuntary emotion. He is sometimes moved to express this feeling, but he’s not generally concerned about appearing sympathetic. Sam, with his careful emotional walls, isn’t generally so viscerally affected by others, but he is kind. This is expressed as sympathy, because he cares about others’ feelings, and he wants to be good/morally right. On the one hand, it comes from an intellectual place—“it’s socially acceptable/morally right to express care for this person” (which Dean is less likely to care about)—and on the other, it is an emotional response—“I know what that feels like”—but a more regulated one than empathy, where one almost directly experiences another’s emotions.

7. Walls—hiding vs. performing: It’s interesting that both brothers have their own walls, which they construct as a form of self-preservation, but they have different levels of effectiveness in protecting themselves from outside influence. One difference might lie in what the walls were built in reaction to. Sam built his walls at a young age to separate himself from the outside world because, ironically, it was precisely what he desired, but was not allowed to have. He therefore consciously distanced himself from it, to dull the pain of not having it. The goal of those walls was to have something to hide behind, where he could remain generally unnoticed, so he could conceal his pain from outsiders and even from his family.

Dean took a little longer to build his walls—or at least to consciously do so. He already no doubt fashioned himself after his dad as a kid, and often put on a brave face—for Sam, for his father—when he was not feeling brave. He therefore became accustomed to performing at a young age, and performed many roles for both Sam’s and John’s benefit. He was unconsciously building walls with these performances, concealing his true feelings and desires. Later, I think this started to become more intentional, especially in relations with women/sex partners and especially after the Stanford split, as Dean realized how vulnerable to hurt his sensitive nature made him. It was much safer to perform all the time, and never let his real feelings show. For Dean, even more than Sam, I think he often lost sight of what those real feelings were behind the walls as he tried his best to be the performance he was putting on.

For a visual metaphor, I think of it this way: Sam is a boy at the center of a self-constructed labyrinth. He is almost always able to maintain control over how close people get (except when a few slip past his defenses, at which point he may be susceptible to manipulation). Despite all those elaborate passageways, though, there’s still Sam at the center. It’s lonely there, but he knows himself pretty well at least. Dean is a man in a mask who wants the mask to be his real face. He does everything he can to fuse himself and the mask together. They probably are fused at this point, so it would hurt to take the mask off. His memory of the face under the mask is hazy. He’s afraid, if he looks under the mask, he’ll hate what he sees. He’s lonely because no matter how close others get—and he lets them in close, can surround himself with people—none of them will ever see his true face. But he’s convinced himself it’s better this way, because if anyone saw his face, they’d hate it.

8. Need and attachment re: each other: Clearly, both brothers need each other. Sam’s need for Dean is different than Dean’s need for Sam, though. The way I see it, Dean’s need is one that requires reassurance. Perhaps it traces back to the concern about Sam instilled into him at a young age. I think it was strongly exacerbated by the Stanford split, when Dean realized his and Sam’s desires didn’t align. In Dean’s mind, Sam left once and can do it again—he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sam, on the other hand, has always been able to rely on Dean as a rock, a constant in his life—to the point that, in a way, he takes it for granted when he’s younger. Not in a spoilt, ungrateful way, but in that way that we, as children, might take our parents for granted—they’re always going to be there, right? That’s why, on the few occasions where suddenly, Sam isn’t sure of Dean’s devotion, the rug is ripped out from under him and he’s completely adrift and distraught—seasons 4 and 8 come to mind. Sam needs to be the center of Dean’s universe. When he fears that that’s shifted, that Dean hates him or has chosen someone else over him, it turns Sam’s whole world upside down. For Dean, the fear is that Sam will leave, but it’s a constant, background worry. For Sam, the fear is that Dean will hate him, but since he can usually count on Dean to be obsessed with him, it only comes up now and again. Only Dean can truly hurt Sam, while Dean is vulnerable to hurt from others—though, as always, the deepest hurt can only come from Sam.

9. Ambitions and goals: Sam is the one with greater needs and ambitions outside the scope of their relationship. For Dean, if he’s got Sam and he’s got hunting, he’s content. His greatest accomplishments are taking care of Sam and saving people, and that’s all he needs. I see Sam as craving other sources of fulfillment, though—academic/lore study for its own sake (the pursuit of knowledge), and a leadership/mentorship role. I thought it was very fitting that Sam finds these in late seasons, with leading hunters against the BMOL, then leading the apocalypse AU hunters, then mentoring/nurturing Jack. Dean has always had (and needed) a mentor/leadership/nurturing role with Sam, but Sam also thrives when he’s able to step into that role for others.

10. Normality and monstrosity: I’m just going to link to this post rather than repeat myself.

11. Guilt and self-loathing: This is something they both struggle with and at times, are defined by, but it manifests differently. I think their Hell traumas exemplify their different brands of guilt: for Dean, it’s perpetrator’s guilt. He knows he did something terrible and feels he can never atone for his past actions. For Sam, it’s victim’s/survivor’s guilt. He may not have done anything wrong, but there’s a certain amount of self-blame, especially for perceived weakness. This is another theme for Sam; one of the main faults he sees in himself is weakness—too weak to save Dean from Hell for instance—and as a result tries to shoulder things alone (killing Lilith, Hallucifer, etc). Sam has a need to fix things, to prove to others and himself that he is capable. Dean, I think, sees his main fault as neediness, but really, it’s a deeply buried sense of innate worthlessness. He was taught from a young age that his brother’s life—not his own—was of the utmost value. He internalized that his life was only worthwhile if he could save others, and has trouble with the idea that he, himself, has value beyond what he can do for others.

12. Autonomy and sacrifice: The above leads Dean to have a very constrained sense of his own autonomy. In general, he values duty/loyalty to others over autonomy (although when it comes to cosmic beings, he’s all about free will—see this post if you want more thoughts on that, and Sam’s autonomy). Often, his desire to control others comes from a place of frustration when Dean feels they are neglecting duty/being selfish. I think partially duty towards others is really a deeply ingrained value for him, but there may also be some buried jealousy at play, in that Dean wishes he could act with more freedom, put himself first every once in a while, but doesn’t know how to. Sam tends to value autonomy over duty (this doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in any sort of responsibility—he’s willing to sacrifice for the greater good, after all).  This means he also tends to respect others’ autonomy, though we all know he can get plenty unhinged where his brother’s safety is concerned. The theme of Sam and autonomy has been talked to death so I’ll stop there, but you can click the link above if you want more.

13. Personal identity: One of Dean’s biggest struggles is with how much of his personal identity is received rather than self-determined. He is tasked with taking care of Sam and he is trained to be a hunter; these become the foundations of his identity. He says it himself: taking care of Sam is not just what he does but who he is. Then in season 3, his own subconscious mocks him for his lack of originality, styling himself and all he loves after his father, showing that this is a source of deep insecurity. This discomfort with himself contributes to his fear of being abandoned and left alone with himself. He doesn’t know who he is without Sam—or rather, is convinced he is nothing without Sam, which is why he fights so hard to keep him by his side. It also contributes to his general desire for friends, or better, family: people who won’t abandon him.

Later in the series, I think Dean has come to embrace his genuine self more. He’s nerdy and excitable and playful—and I don’t see this is as regression, but rather a healthy embracing of what makes him happy—not tastes inherited from his father. If it seems juvenile, it’s because it’s the first time in his life he’s allowed himself to express and explore these things. I think his relationship with hunting is also healthier; it’s no longer something he does because it’s the only thing that can give him worth. He does it because he believes it’s right and genuinely wants to help people. He has a more complete sense of self, and while it’s still totally tied up in Sam, he has gained some self-worth.

[I should note that basically everything I’ve written about Dean supports the headcanon that Dean has BPD—a headcanon I accepted after I realized this. For some more great writing on Dean and BPD, see this post by @venhedish.]

Sam has always known what he wanted for himself and rejected what was given to/allowed him. Wanting what he couldn’t have, from a young age, helped him develop an individual sense of self, not defined by others. I think it’s this difference in their sense of individual identity that leads some viewers to think that Dean loves Sam more than Sam loves Dean. He doesn’t, and losing Dean is just as huge a loss and a grief for Sam as losing Sam was for Dean. Dean is central to Sam’s life, and he can’t feel complete without him; however, his identity and every desire has never revolved as entirely around Dean as Dean’s has around him, so Sam has a foundational sense of self that even losing Dean can’t completely destroy. It’s what allows him to rebuild in grief and carry on (whereas I have no doubt Jensen’s right and Dean would waste away in the back of a pool hall without Sam). Dean’s central role in Sam’s life never disappears, though, and it is, in fact, what allows Sam to carry on; an effort to honor his brother’s memory, living in a way that would make him proud. There’s continuity in that for Sam; the craving for his brother’s approval and happiness never disappears. Seeking those things is what makes Sam happy, both in their domestic years together before Dean’s death and in the years after. They are both, after all, co-dependent!

14: Concluding observation: Sam and Dean have many similar issues, desires, and insecurities: the desire for a normal life, the fear of their own monstrosity, the desire for love and friendship, their need and love for each other, their desire for approval/to be admired, resentment at their childhood, the feeling of being impure and unworthy, the desire for freedom, issues with bodily autonomy. Sometimes these are seen as the purview of one brother or the other exclusively, but that’s almost never true when you consider canon as a whole. The difference is in how these things are internalized, sublimated, reflected, and expressed for each of them. It makes sense they would struggle with so many of the same things, because their lives are deeply intertwined and they are in the same boat most of the time.

#spn meta #sam meta #dean meta #sam and dean #winchester brothers #my meta #the brodependency #long post #spn

[airis-paris14]

Dress Up 9

Summary: She’s not his fiancee, but no one needs to know...

Warnings: None

Masterlist || 8 || 9 || 10

"Oh babycakes! We're so proud of you!" Sirobie's mom gushed once everyone made it inside the apartment safely, the paparazzi trapped outside of the building. "Thanks, Mama," the new college graduate smiled as all of her family members pulled her in for a hug. "Siri, Siri," Soleil tugged on her sister's gown to be picked up. "What would you like to eat?" Her father asked as he looked at nearby restaurants on his phone.

"There's a good Italian place nearby, we could order three or four family-style meals. Some of my friends from Wakanda are coming and DaNiyah and Angela's families."

"Sounds good to me," Naomi Johnson smiled as she smoothed down her daughter's hair while she played with her younger sister. "You guys get whatever you want, I haven't had anything I haven't liked since I've gone there."

"Bet, I call first pick," Ahj yelled as he jumped over Sirobie's couch to join his dad in the kitchen. "Boy if you don't stop jumping over my furniture," Sirobie fussed and her father popped her brother on the back of his head. "Ow, jeez. It's not like it won't be my apartment in a few months anyway. "Says who?" Richard Johnson questioned as he scanned the restaurant menu. "I mean I'm coming to Howard anyway, why can't I just stay here?"

"Nice try, but you've got to live on campus, your first year little brother." Sirobie laughed as her brother's cocky face fell. "Man what? I'm too pretty for communal bathrooms."

Sirobie's mother took her youngest daughter into her arms and rolled her eyes at her son. "You'll get over it."

"Just look at it as a right of passage," Sirobie shrugged, finally taking off her gown and cap. "Wait, wait," her mother frowned, "I wanna take some more pictures when the girls get here."

"Mama," the filmmaker whined. "Mama," Naomi mocked her eldest, "Just go hang it up and be ready to put it back on when everyone else gets here."

"Fine," Sirobie sighed and went into her room to hang up her gown, not before grabbing Soleil's hand as she insisted that she walk with her. "Siri, I wanna come stay with you," Soleil pouted as her sister hung her garb up in the closet. "What? You won't miss your friends at school?"

"Nope," the four-year-old shook her head. "Well what about mama and daddy, they'd miss you."

"No they won't, they'll have Ahj."

"Well, you remember how I left home and you only saw me ever so often?" the preschooler nodded. "Well, Ahj is about to do that too. Mama and daddy are gonna need you."

"Oh, but I wanna see you."

"Well how about I see if you can stay with me for a few weeks before I start working. How does that sound?" Sirobie smiled and pinned the graduation cap to her little sister's clacker balls and twists. Soleil nodded and a little grin lit up her face. "When will I get to meet Challa?"

Sirobie froze as her little sister giggled at her reflection with the too big hat on. For a moment, she'd forgotten that Soleil had met and instantly loved the king over the phone. "I wanna see his big house."

"I don't know soso," the big sister sighed.

"Are you sad?"

"Yeah, just a little."

"Cause you miss Challa?"

"Yeah, but it's more complicated than that little one."

What's compicated?"

"It means it's hard to understand munchkin."

The little girl nodded but the doorbell interrupted her before she could ask another question. "Let's go see who's at the door huh?"

"Okay!" the little girl bounced out of the room and Sirobie sighed.

"Eshe! Kasigo!" Sirobie's face lit up as two of her former lady's maids turned friends took off their coats at the door. "My lady," Eshe greeted and both of the women dropped into a curtsy. "Please. Just Sirobie. I'm back to being a normal person again." The former student clarified as her mother, father, and brother looked at her like she had grown two heads. Soleil however, was beaming at the thought that her older sister might be a real-life princess.

"Siri! Are you a princess!"

"No-"

"Respectfully, Lady Sirobie, you will always be our princess." Eshe smiled and Kasigo nodded in agreement. Sirobie blushed and Soleil squealed. "Does this mean I am a princess too?"

"Well of course little one," Kasigo curtsied before Soleil and Eshe followed suit. "Ehse, Kasigo, this is my little sister, Soleil. My parents Richard and Naomi Johnson. And my little brother Ahj."

"A pleasure to meet you all," the two women nodded. "You as well. Thank you for taking care of my baby while she was away." Mrs. Johnson smiled and hugged each of the ladies. "It was our pleasure," Eshe reassured the women. "It is lovely to meet you both as well, but would anyone mind explaining why you are calling my daughter a princess?" Richard Johnson interrupted the exchange.

"Why don't we all sit down first?" Naomi pushed her family towards the couches. " Well Daddy, remember when you called and I said that I was being well taken care of, and not doing anything illegal?"

The father raised an eyebrow and Sirobie knew she needed to get to the point quickly. "The future Queen of Wakanda went missing abruptly, Princess Kamyra, and since apparently, we are doppelgangers for each other, the royal family paid me to be a stand-in until they could locate her. Hence, Kasigo and Eshe, my former lady's maids."

"Yes, we know that your daughter is not a true royal family member, but she is just as graceful, well-spoken, intelligent, kind, caring, funny, and beautiful as any of the best ones we have ever met. Everyone loved her during her time in the country." Eshe elaborated.

"Therefore, we continue to honor her by calling her by her title. Given by the Queen Mother and the king themselves." Kasigo finished. Everyone turned to Sirobie's father and brother, "So the king at the press conference, he was telling the truth?"

Except for the part he omitted where they asked me to stand in," Sirobie nodded.

"Why did he lie?"

"It is complicated Daddy. There is a lot going on in Wakanda and he did it for my safety."

Richard sighed and looked around the room. "Well, this is not how I envisioned this night going." Everyone laughed as the father glanced down at his phone. " I am just glad you are home safe baby girl. I am so proud of you. You're my princess too." The father and daughter embraced. "Thank you, Daddy."

"Come on Ahj. Let's go grab this food." The two men shrugged back on their coats but before opening the door her father paused, "When will I get to meet this king?"

"You already did Daddy. T'Challa."

"Sirobie Johnson, you had me on the phone calling a king by his first name?"

"Daddy, he told me to. I couldn't exactly tell you who he was."

"Jesus Christ the situations y'all put me in," Richard grumbled as he and Ahj headed out the door. The women left behind could do nothing but laugh. Once the quiet settled over the apartment again, Eshe hopped up and grabbed a box she had placed on the floor near her coat. "We brought gifts. The first one is from Queen Mother and Princess Shuri."

Sirobie beamed at the mention of Ramonda and Shuri's names. "They send their regrets that they couldn't make it to your graduation in person."

"I will have to send a card back with you two," Sirobie beamed and carefully unwrapped the intricate vibranium box. Pressing her finger to the lock scanner she gasped as a tiara emerged from the dark purple velvet lining of the box. "Oh my goodness," Sirobie breathed in awe of the delicate tiara. "They thought you might like a more western-style tiara with a little Wakanda flair," Kasigo revealed. In the center of the tiara was a heart-shaped herb and lined on each side of the crown, surrounded by diamond-encrusted leaves was the flower of each of the tribes. "I love it so much," The graduate fought back tears but started laughing when she noticed how big her little sister's eyes had grown. "Don't laugh at my baby," Naomi Johnson laughed and accepted the crown from her eldest so that she and the youngest could admire it.

"They also sent a card but requested that you wait until you are alone to read it." Eshe handed over an envelope. Sirobie nodded and moved on to the next gift in Eshe's hands. "This one is from us, Lesedi too. She is sorry she could not make it."

"She is here in spirit." Sirobie smiled and felt the grin grow even larger as she realized it was a scrapbook of her time in Wakanda. "Guys," she sniffled as she flipped through page after page or her getting ready for balls and dinners, dates with T'Challa, painting, sketching, hanging out with Shuri, and taking tea with the queen. The last photo was one of her putting the finishing touches on T'Challa's portrait. Her engagement ring glistened on her left finger in the sun. "I love it. I didn't even know you guys were taking photos," Sirobie grinned.

"We remembered you saying you used to love scrapbooking, so we thought that one day, you might want some of your memories from Wakanda." Kasigo smiled, "It was Lesedi's idea."

"I'll have to write her a personal thank you." Sirobie wiped her eyes. "Angela and DaNiyah's families will probably be here soon. I should go get dressed again."

"I wanna go!" Soleil beamed. "We'll help as well." Kasigo and Eshe followed Amani into her room and Naomi Johnson laughed.

Eshe worked deftly to fashion Sirobie's hair into an updo and the woman smiled, missing the expertise of her friend. "Siri," Soleil squirmed in her sister's lap, "you should wear your tiara!"

"Maybe later Soso," Siriobie smiled. "No, we actually promised the queen you'd take a picture and we'd send it to her. We can do it quickly before everyone else gets here."

"Yay!" Soleil beamed and Sirobie shook her head as the Tiara was pulled and pinned gracefully to her updo. "Wow, you look just like a princess." The four-year-old gasped. Amani stood and placed Soleil on the ground before admiring her reflection in the mirror. The milk chocolate silk of one of her Wakandan dinner gowns complimented her skin beautifully and the tiara and the Updo finished the facade. It did indeed look like she was staring at the reflection of a princess. "I- I have no words," she breathed and reached up to make sure she was still looking at her own reflection. I haven't looked like this in so long. Sometimes it feels like a dream."

"I assure you it was not a dream," Eshe hugged her as Kasigo took Soleil's little hand in her own. A knock pulled them all out of her reverent silence, "Ro, someone is here and wants to see you-"

Naomi Johnson paused as she looked at her oldest child for the first time dressed like the princess she'd always been to her mother. "Oh, my baby," tears pooled in her eyes and Sirobie giggled and pulled her mom in for a hug. "Oh, you look absolutely stunning. You ladies are masters of your craft," the mother praised and the women bowed their heads in gratitude.

"Oh yes," suddenly Mrs. Johnson remembered why she had come in the room, "Someone is here to see you. They're in the living room."

Sirobie frowned as Kasigo and Eshe realized who had joined them. "Okay, let me take off the-"

"No! I want pictures before you take down all of their hard work. Leave it alone until you come back."

"Mama," Sirobie found herself whining once more but Naomi Johnson ignored it. "Go on, shoo."

"Mama!" the artist stumbled before she felt some familiar hands steady her. "Entle." She turned and came face to face with the man she thought she would never see again. "Your majesty," She stepped out of his reach and his face fell. "You look breathtaking," the king cleared his throat, fighting the urge to freeze. The vision in front of him did nothing to stop help.

Siriobie found herself blushing before straightening her face once more, "What do you want your majesty?"

"Please Sirobie. You know that it will always be T'Challa to you."

"Your majesty-"

"You aren't wearing your ring," the king interrupted. He felt his heart drop at the thought that she had completely written the two of them being together off forever. "I couldn't exactly wear it to my highly televised graduation where everyone wanted a photo of me could I?" Sirobie sneered, anger at the reminder of the hurt he'd caused returning. "Sirobie, there is nothing I can ever say that will make up for what I have done, but I am truly sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe."

"I know T'Challa, but you blew up my life. I don't even know if I still have a job if we're being honest. The key to being on a film set is secrecy. They can't have a crew member and cast being stalked by paparazzi."

"I found the information on your job and called. I personally explained and smoothed everything over." Sirobie felt her mouth fall wide open, "Well explained everything except the part where I am madly in love with you. I did not think that it was appropriate for-"

"T'Challa, you didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did. I know how badly you want this job. This career. I refuse to be the reason that is stolen from you. No matter how much I truly just want you to move back to Wakanda with me."

"I couldn't either way T'Challa. I couldn't watch you marry and have kids with-"

"We were able to break the contract. I won't be marrying anyone anytime soon."

"What?"

"Kamyra's family tried to have me murdered. She and I got married and then annulled it right after. She's going off to college to get her degree."

"Oh." Sirobie struggled to wrap her mind around the news that had just rushed from the king's lips.

"Sirobie," the king got down on one knee again, "I know that you are not ready for marriage or settling down right now, and I would not be happy forcing you into this lifestyle without you getting to live your own life first, but I am in love with you. Have been since I first laid eyes on you painting on the terrace. I want to see where this goes."

"What exactly are you asking T'Challa?"

"Sirobie Johnson, will you be my girlfriend?"

"We've got a lot to figure out. Including how to clear the air internationally, but, I would love to be your girlfriend T'Challa Udaku." Sirobie beamed as the king swept her up into a bridal carry. "T'Challa put me down!" she laughed. "Yay!" Soleil burst out of her sister's room jumping up and down. "My King," Kasigo and Eshe greeted.

"T'Challa," Mrs. Johnson smiled, "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

The king glanced at his girlfriend, "Only if it's okay with Sirobie."

"If you're up for intense interrogations, I'd love to have you. You'll have to meet the family anyway."

"Oh, I brought you a gift. We'll two really. The king pulled two small boxes out of his coat pocket. Smiling softly, Sirobie opened the first slender box and pulled out a delicate vibranium chain. "It's for your ring. I know you were using one of your old ones, but the promise was that I would buy you a chain before you left."

"Thank you T'Challa," Sirobie smiled. "We can put the ring on it later," she promised before boxing it back up. "This one is kind of part two," the king admitted as Sirobie unwrapped a framed photo of the two on their first outing with the ring. Sirobie was playing the part of ecstatic fiancee' well in the photo as T'Challa had his arms wrapped around her waist and she with her hands on his chest. Ring glistening away in the lightbulb flashes. "This is one of my favorite photos of us," the king admitted.

"Mine too," Sirobie cheesed.

"Come on, before someone notices," Sirobie quickly pulled the King out of her apartment. His chuckle filled the hall as they escaped outside to the city streets. H Street in DC was bustling with recent Howard grads and their friends having one last adventure before adulthood fully set in. The girls themselves were planning to head out a little later, accompanied by the king of course, but Sirobie wanted him to herself for a little while before the night was over. "You wanna see campus or the city?" Sirobie grinned up at T'Challa as they came to a quieter fork in the road. "I wanna see the place that helped make you the amazing woman I am so blessed to call my own." The graduate felt her cheeks heat up as she turned left, guiding the king up the hill to the Mecca. Soon, the quick tour was done and they took a seat on a bench on the yard.

"So, how do we make this work?'' Sirobie asked the moon their only company on the quiet green. "We take it as slow or as fast as you want," the king sighed pulling her hand into his. "Quite frankly," He glanced at the ring that was once again around her neck. A sly grin formed inside as his finger lifting the metal from her neck caused a quiet gasp to escape her lips. He chuckled lightly, twirling the ring around his finger. "If I could have my way, I would have already asked you to marry me once again," He admitted. The new Howard Alumna felt her heart racing as a cheshire grin covered his face. "As much as I would love that," she laughed before becoming a bit more serious, "I got my own life to live first T'Challa. I can't just live for you and Wakanda, just yet. I've got to be more than just his little wife," she sang a quick snicker following after. T'Challa looked at her blank-faced and she bit back another laugh, "Beyoncé jokes, gotta improve your knowledge on that if you're planning on spending eternity with me."

"Oh, Beyoncé the singer? Shuri loves her." Sirobie simply shook her head and leaned on T'Challa's chest.

"Before I forget," the king cleared his throat a little while later before they could head back up the stairs to Sirobie's apartment. They'd wandered around a bit more before deciding it was time to head back and get ready to go out with the girls. "This is for you. I called the loan company and, with your mother's help, was able to finesse your final balance number out of them. I believe this should cover it, and help you get started out in Los Angeles when you move." Sirobie felt her mouth drop open as the 10 digit number on the check became obvious. "T'Challa, I can't, this is more than enough to cover my debt. That's all you promised me. I can't take all of this," Sirobie shook her head and handed him the check back. "No, Sirobie, I wanted it to be a surprise, but your mom expressed her concerns about you being able to afford safe housing in Los Angeles, and I want you to be able to live wherever you want, safely. So I'm buying you a house. We'll you're buying you a house. I'm just gonna help, if you'll let me," the king rambled on as his girlfriend's eyes filled with tears. "I just want you safe," the king sighed as he pulled her in for a hug, "and having somewhere I can come to stay with you whenever I'm in town on business is another benefit."

"I'd love to have you come stay with me and help me choose a house," Sirobie finally answered, accepting the check. "As long as you don't mind Soleil being around, I kinda promised she could come to stay with me for a while until I started working."

"Of course," the royal smiled following Sirobie up the stairs to her apartment. "Besides," he whispered in her ear, stopping her from opening the door, "We'll have time for each other when she's sleeping." He placed a kiss on her exposed neck and delighted in the way she shivered under him. "Where are you staying tonight?" she turned to face him, pulling his face closer. "Ritz Carlton," T'Challa mumbled against her lips. "Good, I'm joining you," Sirobie grinned, finally letting him engulf her in a rough kiss against the door. Careful not to alert anyone inside what was happening just outside the door.

Taglist: @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @waitingonafriend-blog @faatassbitch

#tchalla #tchalla fanfiction #tchalla x reader #tchalla imagine #blackpantherimagines #apbpfics #tchalla x oc #tchalla fanfic #t'challa x reader #t'challa #tchalla smut #t'challa x you #t'challa imagine #t'challa x oc #dressupfic

[ascendance-bookworm]

* * * As of the beginning of Part 4. Work In Progress. * * *

Well, this story has gotten complicated enough that I need to take notes, so I’m going though all the books again, I am going off the English translated books from j-novel club, so any info from the web novel or other sources I’m not including.

I’ve broken it up into parts because it gets long. This is mostly just for my reference as I’m tired of having to keep going back to remember things, and clarify the issues that are happening on the politics side which I can see are going to become more important to the series, and that I kinda gloss over when I read (lol) so I need a refresher, perhaps others will find it interesting / useful too.

As always, feel free to correct me if I make a mistake somewhere, I’m doing my best, but this is just for fun in my (limited) spare time, so...

Ehrenfest Map - Part 1

Purple - Florencia and Elvira’s faction

Yellow - Leisegang faction

Red - Veronica faction (Georgine)

Green - Neutral

None - undetermined

Ehrenfest (Central District) Noble Quarters

- - - Aub Ehrenfest, Lord Sylvester Family

Aub Ehrenfest, Lord Sylvester (30? years-old) dark blue hair, green-eyes

wife, Florencia (formerly from Frenbeltag, 2 years older) pale blond hair

eldest son, Wilfred (10 years-old, 1st year archduke) blond hair, green eyes

daughter, Charlotte (9 years-old archduke) pale blond hair, purple eyes

youngest son, Melchoir (not baptized yet) dark blue hair

mother, Veronica (Sylvester’s mother) (imprisoned) [LN 7]

uncle, Bezewanst (younger brother to Veronica, High Bishop) (executed) [LN8]

older sister, Georgine (married to Aub Ahrensbach)

sister, Constanze (married to Aub Frenbeltag)

half-brother, Ferdinand (24? years-old, High Priest) light blue hair and yellow eyes

- - - Lord Bonifatus Family

Lord Bonifatius (archduke)

first wife ( Leisegang’s daughter )

first son, Karstedt (archduke) (see below)

second wife ( ? )

- second son, ( ? ) (archnoble) jealous of Karstedt

- wife, Gudrun (daughter of Rihyarda, sister of Justus)

- son, Traugott (3rd year archnoble, ex-guard knight to Rozemyne)

- - - Lord Karstedt’s Family

Karstedt (archduke, Captain of the Knight’s Order) blue eyes and brown hair

first wife, Elvira (archnoble, sister to Giebe Haldenzel) brown eyes and green hair

eldest son, Eckhart (archnoble, widow, guard knight to Ferdinand) green hair and blue eyes

-first wife of Eckhart, Heidemarie (deceased)

-current engaged to Angelica

second son, Lamprecht (archnoble, guard knight to Wilfred) brown hair, blue eyes

-engaged to Aurelia, niece of Aub Ahrensbach

third son, Cornelius (5th year archnoble, guard knight to Rozemyne) green hair and eyes

daughter, Rozemyne (secretly adopted)

- - -

second wife, Trudeliede (from Veronica faction)

- fourth son, Nikolaus (recently baptized, 7 year old)

- - -

third wife, Rosemery (from Joisonak) (deceased)

- - - Angelica and Lieseleta’s Family (Florencia or neutral)

Father is a Castle attendant (mednobles)

Mother is Lady Florencia’s attendant (mednobles)

Angelica (6th year medknight, guard knight to Rozemyne) light blue eyes and hair 

Lieseleta (4th year medattendant, attendant to Rozemyne) green eyes and hair

I put Angelica and Lieseleta as more neutral as neither seems to play into the politics so far, I would assume Florencia association due to their mother and Rosemyne, but in general they seem more loyal to the person rather than a faction as an whole.

- - - Damuel’s Family

Henrik (layscholar) (neutral?)

wife, Juliane - two kids (boy and girl) (neutral?)

mistress, Frieda (Guild Masters granddaughter, has the devouring)

Damuel (19-20 years old, layknight, guard knight to Rosemyne) brown hair, grey eyes

I would put Damuel on Rosemyne (Elvira/Florencia) faction, his brother and sister-in-law so far we don’t have anything stated firmly, so I would put them neutral with a lean towards Florencia’s faction due to benefactor/association thru Rosemyne. Since Henrik is joining Rosemyne publishing industry, this seem more solid.  Also his association with the Guild Master and Frieda also firmly put them more on Rosemyne’s side.

- - - Philine’s Family

Kashick (laynoble)

first wife, Theresa (deceased)

daughter, Philine (1st year laynoble, layscholar to Rozemyne)

son, Konrad ( 5 years old ) ( disinherited and sent to the Temple)

second wife, Jonsara ( laynoble? )

son (infant)

I would put Philne in Rosemyne (Elvira/Florencia) faction, she is going independent from her father/family and putting her full support behind Rosemyne. Not sure what her father or step-mother are, but not sure it matters unless they make trouble for Philine later in the series.

Nobles entrusted with land by the archduke stayed in their mansions near the farming villages from Spring Prayer all the way to the Harvest Festival. They returned to the Noble’s Quarter during the winter to pay taxes and give a report on the last year while all the nobles in the city got to work gathering information on everything that happened over the past year. [LN6]

#ascendance of a bookworm #honzuki no gekokujou #Map of Ehrenfest #bw: notes #Work In Progress

[kaito-is-baby]

Devil Town

Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Spoilers about Dabi's identity? (I don't think this is a spoiler anymore lmao) and a little of gaslighting from the reader if you stretch

Plot: AU where Shoto kills Touya on accident, he and Endeavor run away, they end up on a ghost town and meet the reader, this will be a series and I can promise you I have a very good mystery for the town, also this was totally inspired by devil town by cavetown, it wil have many references to the song so… if you are a fan I think you will like this <3

part 1 (previous) | part 3 (next)

The bright rays of dawn streaming through his curtains woke Shoto up, he took his phone in his hands wondering how soon in the morning would it be to have the sun just rising now

9:00 a.m his phone screen read 

Where in the world did the sun rise so damn late?

Shoto found clean clothes on his little bedside table, the very same clothes he was wearing, the same print on the white t-shirt he was wearing was resting on the white t-shirt on his table, the same blue shirt he was wearing could be found underneath the white t-shirt and the very same denim jeans he was wearing too, they had just one diference, the new ones waiting in his bedside table were not soaked in now dry blood from his brother.

Once dressed in his new clothes he opened the door just to hear his father’s voice calling him from behing 

Deciding to ignore him Shoto hurried up to the stairs, soon finding the hostel hall and, in its reception desk, the recepcionist was waiting, her elbows on the tabble, her chin resting on her hands and a little movement from side to side from her head, he found her just like he had left her the night before, the same white striped dressing gown on her and the same 'everything is just a game' expression on her face

The girl waved at him and that was the only thing Shoto needed to take his decision

He approached the girl, ready to ask her what had kept him awake almost all night when she cut him 

“Were the clothes of your liking?” she smiled 

“Eh... yeah, yes they were” so it had been her who brought them to his room and found them in the first place “How... How did you find clothes so similar to my old ones? And... it was already midnight when we arrived, the day had just started when I woke up and they were already on my room where did you bought them?”

“I... made them?” her eyebrows curved “Look, it’s my job to make sure everyone in this town is comfortable, I gave you father clothes too and he did not complain, take them and stop asking so many questions, will you?”

“But... I have one more question” the girl nodded at him, allowing him to continue “I want to know your name” 

She giggled 

“I want to know your real name too, I guess we can’t have everything we want” 

“At least give me a false name so I can refer to you” 

“You souldn't refer to me, you should go out and meet the town's people, you will lose any interest in me as soon as you do so”

“I heavily doubt it”

“But I am sure of it” she said, focusing her eyes on the book she had on her table

If there was something Shoto was more curious about than the girl it was that book, it looked like the usual book they have on a hotel to know who is staying in each dorm but the misteryous girl and her misteryous hostel had no one else hospeding than him and his father, what else could be filling pages and pages of that book? and why would she look at it and have it with her everytime? 

"Look, you are cute, really cute, but I’m not interested so can you please leave for once?” the girl’s angry voice woke him up

“Yes, sorry, I got distracted by...” she would never tell him what was inside that book, would she ever explain anything? “its nothing. I will leave now”

Already on the door Shoto said something else before leaving the hostel “You are really cute too” It was more a muffle to himself than a sentence directed to her yet she heard it and a silly smile appeared on her face

He was shy and unused to romantic interactions

And something much worse, he was in a weird town with a death in his back, this was not the time to fall for someone, less someone even weirder than the town itself

...

The sun rays blinded Shoto at first, how could it be already so shiny when it had just rised?

It’s true one of Shoto’s eyes was blue, which usually make the eyes more sensitive but he had never really be blinded by the sun before 

“I guess the hostel is way to dark and my eyes were not ready for this” Shoto calmed himself 

The whole town had changed, he knew it, his father's car wasn't at the hostel door anymore and the hostel was again at the top of a slope

But this time, under the slope Shoto found what he expected to find the first time instead of a weird forest, a little town

Much to Shoto’s disgrace it was now the entrance to the town and the road he and his father were following what had disappeared this time alongside the lonely forest 

Not more than ten houses, a clock tower and a cafe 

That was what constitued this “town”

He entered the small cafe, trying to get them to give him some information about the whereabouts of the road 

Inside the counter was a blonde boy with a black highlight, laughing loudly at whatever his co worker -a big muscular man with thick lips and scary eyebrows- had said. The big guy was scary at first but once Shoto saw him baking and joking with the blonde his first impresion changed completely, he seemed like a good person

But then Shoto thought to himself, Didn't he look like a good person too? And he was a murderer and no better than his horrible father 

“I’m Jirou and I have to attend you, is there anything you want?” a purple haired girl in the same uniform as the two boys behind the bar welcomed him and guided him to his table 

“Do you have green tea?” 

“No, we got out of it just yesterday but we will have the new cargament by tomorrow!”

“Well then I guess a dark coffe will make it too” 

“Alright, tomorrow we will have your green tea ready eh... what’s your name?”

“oh! right!! you are new!!” the blonde exclamed 

“The name’s Dabi” 

“Welcome to Devil town Dabi!” A pink colored skin girl greeted him

Shoto’s cup of coffe was almost empty when a green haired boy filled with freckless all over his faces entered the saloon, standing on a girl of his same height, big eyes and red cheeks

“Denki please, could you give us some ice for Izuku’s ankle? he broke it again”

“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital instead of asking for ice?” Shoto found himself asking

“Are you going to bring them to the hospital?” A deep and angry voice asked him 

“Don't you have one here?”

“Fuck off bastard, you can’t be serious and I really hate people mocking me” The blonde boy whose deep angry voice belonged to treatened him 

“Uraraka will take me to the city tomorrow to get checked” The injured boy, izuku, affirmed

 “In this shitty town there is nothing more than stupid trees” the angry boy spoke again

“And a road in the middle right?” Shoto asked, trying to find it again 

“What are you talking about?” Izuku asked

“There was a road with a sign with the towns name that crossed the whole town”

“The whole town are 10 houses and this cafe, I think you are mistaken, there’s no road here” the girl who attended him, Jirou, clarified 

“No, there was a road and-” Shoto then found a better thing to ask “the hostel! the hostel at the end of this slope, you have seen it right?”

“Yeah, but it’s been abandoned for years now, none of us has seen it working”  The baker answered 

“I don’t think its abandoned, there’s a recepcionist working on there”

“Who?” Denki, the guy who gave the injured boy the ice, asked this time

“I... I dont know her name”

“Look bastard, if you want to make fun of someone go somewhere else I dont want to see your stupid half burned face”

“Bakugo!” the girl with pink skin reprimanded him

...

Shoto left the saloon after that, wondering if he was the one losing his mind and not the people on this town, his biggest hipotesis was that both, he and the villagers were losing their minds

He wanted answers and he wanted answers from that stupidly misterious girl on the hostel 

He headed to the little amount of trees near him, he remebered, alongside the road were plenty of trees, he heard his mother on the woods. He had to walk through plenty of them until he found the hostel and not a single time did he sight the damn town

Shoto walked miles, he walked through the woods for hours and yet he couldn't find the road to get out of the weird town

He heard his mother voice again, calling him, screaming at him like the day he got the scar he had on his face 

“You said something dumb again” Shoto turned to where the voice came from

Sitting on one of the trees branches there she was, the recepcionist again 

“She’s mad” She jumped back to the ground “At least that’s what they say”

The girl was even prettier at the moonlight, it was easy for Shoto to lose himself on her eyes and forget about everything she was saying 

“Who? Who says that?” 

“The trees, obviously, who else would it be?” she laughed 

“oh” Shoto tried to find what she found so logical on her answer but he did just find it irracional, there was no way the trees were speaking, not even if he himself was hearing his mom coming from one of them “who... who is mad?”

“I'd say it’s your mother, she must miss you, all of you.” Was she refering to his older brother too? “I think this is not what she expected when you left” 

Shoto gulpped

He knew well what the misterious recepcionist was talking about, he left on a mision with his father to bring Touya back and now Touya was dead and both him and Endeavor were missing with no explanation

“But we’re fine, no one’s gonna catch you here” She said, speaking from his back again, she had walked through him while he thought about his past 

“What-?” 

When he turned around she was no longer there and so he decided to leave, it was dark at night already and he wanted to wake up soon, he needed to know more 

...

“Can I get an explanation to that last thing you said in the woods?” Shoto exclamed just the moment he entered the hostel, his voice much louder than he had ever expected it to come

“I... I wasn’t on the woods Dabi, I’ve been here all day” 

“You were on the woods, sitting on a branche you said something about being save here because no one would catch us and-”

“Dabi, I think you need to rest” 

“No, you already said something like that yesterday, when you came from- where did you came from when I arrived at this town? I walked trough the whole forest and didn't see you”

“I was here all day, just like every other day, every day is the same here”

“No, no you weren't, when I arrived here this place was lonely like-” Then shoto remembered what the villagers had said about the hostel “-an abandoned place...”

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t have a 5 stars hotel but I’m not even charging you so-”

“You weren’t here when I entered and arrived later, you were out there and I didn’t see you and this place smelled like... The woods sounded like...” Like Touya, like mom was what Shoto tought to himself

“Do you need me to help you get to your room?”

“No... no, I will be fine”

Shoto set his alarm at 5 a.m, the unnamed girl couldn’t be already up at those hours right? He would take a look at that book of hers and finally discover what was going on here. Was this his own personal hell? Because it sure seemed like it 

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