#and some people aren’t as informed and/or are viewing him through their own experience as a straight person

[anonymous-tals]

Whether you believe Gob is bi, gay, or some other queer identity, at least we can all band together on the fact that, whatever he is, Gob is certainly not straight.

People will bring up that one line about friendship from the narrator and ignore literally everything else about the character shown before and after that one comment.

“The narrator said it was just friendship!”

The narrator was also confused immediately after making that comment as to why they agreed to have sex on Cinco when they could’ve just avoided it altogether. He was under the assumption that they weren’t attracted to each other and, by them agreeing to just talk that night instead of sleeping together right then, it meant they were trying to avoid it...only for them to excitedly plan to sleep together on Cinco a second later. They wanted to sleep together; they just also liked each other as people.

Also, friendship doesn’t rule out feelings of attraction. Gob wasn’t emotionally invested in any of his other relationships but he genuinely cares about and likes Tony. And, even if it was purely friendship at the time(which I don’t believe it was, but for the sake of the argument let’s say that was the case), is it impossible for him to develop feelings and realize he’s attracted to Tony later?

Also, Gob slept with him and said it confirmed to him that his feelings were real and that he was truly in love with him. I don’t- I don’t understand how you could interpret that as a straight man who is mistaking friendship for romantic feelings.

“He wasn’t shown to like men before Tony so it doesn’t make sense for him to be gay now!”

Hmm…It’s almost like he was a repressed queer man with internalized homophobia and comphet and a toxically masculine father and was hiding it in fear of what his family and the world would think, which was, like, a major part of his S4 and S5 arc…

A fun little thing I like to do when watching TV is take new information that is revealed to the audience and see how that shines a new light on a character or situation that we may have understood as one thing and now, because of that new information, we now understand was something else the whole time.

So, when given new information regarding his sexuality in seasons four and five, behavior in the first three seasons that wouldn’t necessarily be indicative of him not being straight can be looked back upon with this new information and we can understand what was truly going on the whole time.

Also, that’s just not true. He’s said himself and has been implied to have slept with men in the first three seasons.

Gob likes men. Does he like only men? Or, does he also like other genders? Some other third option that’s applicable here? We may divert on this path but what we can say is that Gob likes men. That, we know.

[thrashkink-coven]

OKAY

I think we need to discuss something that I’ve literally never heard any other practitioners talk about but I think it’ll immediately clear up A LOT of confusion! This is obviously my own upg so take it with as much validity as you please.

When doing any kind of work with any kind of deity, you really need to understand the concepts of archetypes and syncretism.

Religion, faith, and mythology, it’s all a big mess. Our clumsy archaic human language and our tendency to destroy and distort information means that the ancient world is really, to our modern understanding, A LOT (and I mean a LOT) of hypothesizing.

We often use the same words to describe different concepts, mix up names, combine names, and misunderstand each other. Such is the nature of humanity.

Theology is always fluid. Different entities have different cultural associations, some major entities or characters are even shared among multiple groups of people. Syncretism means that groups of people develop their ideas with the influence of other groups of people, though shifted to make sense for their personal experience.

My favourite thing in the world is when different religions share stories- viewing history from totally different perspectives- Retelling the same events through the scope of their theology.

This is why we have archetypes. There are many goddesses of love and sex that are associated with the planet that is commonly known as Venus. Why these archetypes emerge in the way they do? That’s up for you to debate with yourself.

The question of whether Aphrodite is Astarte or Ishtar or Lucifer or Helel or Eosphoros or Hesperus is not a question that can be answered entirely objectively. It can never be proven and it can never be disproven. Because sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes the answer is definitely no, and sometimes it’s really hard to tell.

The way that we all experience the energy that is “Venus” is going to be different. If she definitely feels like the same energy as Astarte to you, then that could be the case. There’s no objective authority on reality or faith. There is no reason why the findings of 1000 year old magis are more legitimate than yours. Study, learn, experiment.

I like to imagine it similar to colors. We all agree that wavelengths between 620 to 750 nm are red. We have silly little cones in our eyes that work with our brains to turn information into color. But we all understand that there are thousands of shades of red, and some people can’t even see red. Do you see where I’m going? I hope this makes sense.

Because of the way that we interact with reality, there are as many Aphrodite as there are people who believed in Aphrodite- and this is true for every God (at least in my silly little opinion).

There are as many variations in her energy as there are variations of people who follow her.

I try to scope this around what Jophiel told me once. YHWH created him, sometimes. But not at the moment when I was talking to him. When I asked him if Lucifer was the Satan of Christianity he said “sometimes” as well. It depends. It all depends. That’s the beauty of this weird wacky thing that we do.

Anyways,

I don’t know how else to write this but to say some people aren’t compatible with every archetype lol. This is totally okay though, it’s not anyone’s fault! It’s just like … spiritual chemistry. Alchemy? Stay with me!

Nature has laws. If you try to push against these laws you will experience difficulty and suffering. ☹️

Nature creates certain compounds. Stable compounds thrive 🙂 and unstable compounds explode ☹️. Interactions create products and outputs. When two or more elements that are not compatible are introduced they may have a volatile reaction.

I will not claim to know how divinities operate. This is all just my silly billy pondering. But I do know for fact, that at least in my experience, certain entities that share the same address interact with different people in different ways- and some entities will only respond to you under a specific face. Some entities will share faces, and some won’t even respond to you at all.

I’ll use a couple personal examples for reference.

When I first started working with Prince Cerberus, I addressed him using his Goetic name Naberius, as recorded in the Lesser Key of Solomon. I used his sigil and addressed that name.

One of the first things that came through crystal clear was his request to not be called Naberius. He made it very clear to me that he wanted to he called Cerbere or Cerberus, or that I could make up a personal name, but never should I use Naberius. He did not give a reason but he was firm on it.

Now, does this mean that we all can’t use the name Naberius and that we should all blacklist the name? NO! and this doesn’t mean that anyone who works with Naberius is disrespecting Cerberus!!!

For whatever reasons, I don’t know why, my Naberius is Cerberus. I don’t know if Naberius and Cerberus are the same entity or not, I just know that when I think of Naberius I get forwarded to Cerbere. I’m still able to use Naberius’ sigil, but I always get Cerberus.

That might not be true for you. That might not even be logical. That’s just the way that my spirit interacts with that spirit.

I’ve been a long time admirer of Lord Hermes. I approached him and tried desperately to gain his favor, but he refused 💔💔. He made it pretty clear that it wasn’t going to happen through a few ways, and since then he’s repeatedly rejected me…

lol 🥲

I was confused about that for a while, until I started getting hints towards Lord Mercury.

I can’t explain why, I have no idea what the real reason behind this is, but I feel extremely compatible with Mercury, but not with Hermes, like at all. Their energy feels quite separate and different to me. My Mercury isn’t quick like silver, he’s actually quite slow and contemplative.

I was bummed to not be able to establish a “work” relationship with Hermes but it’s probably for the best. Mercury is an excellent teacher.

What I mean to say through all of this rambling is that these things are not concrete. My Astaroth is only Astarte sometimes. Sometimes they feel very similar, sometimes they feel very distinct.

It’s important to remember that the Gods are not one thing, but many things at once. The answers to these questions are all variable. Only you can find the answers for yourself.

If you read this far you’re a real one 🫡

[montydrawsstuff]

Chaotix going to the ARK together story?

…Yer? I suppose I can give that a go

btw, who even did hire the Chaotix to do all that stuff in shadow the hedgehog?//

”Who’da guessed that dusty old teleport in Eggman’s base still worked? Well… we’re all here now, no thanks to that.. shady hedgehog”

Vector joined the other two of his crew before the main bridge of the dusty -but still spectacular- Space Colony Ark. He took a commanding stance before the main computer and typed carefully.

“M A R I A. Huh, still the same password… guess they didn’t have the same view of cyber security that we got now, huh boys?”

The Chaotix stood by as their faces glowed with the light of the system booting up for the first time in quite a while.

“Nice! Ughhh! It’s all words! Where’s all the pictures? I’m borrrrred!”

“Shuddap, Charmy! We got serious business here! We aren’t looking for comics!”

“I’ll scan what information I can,” Espio offered “Go see if there are any more access points, this may just be a logging interface”

“Ya don’t have to ask me twice!” Vector said, turning quickly with Charmy buzzing behind him. “You go high, I go low- got it, kiddo?”

“Roger!” Charmy saluted and zoomed off.

“If ya got it in ya, give us a shout for any trouble, got it? This place is falling apart as it is, never mind those chaos monsters everywhere!” Vector headed off without a response, knowing Espio was already zoned into scanning through every last word as a speed he didn’t even want to think of.

Each room he entered, Vector struggled to imagine what once was, was this place really the cutting edge research and medical facility he was told? By the sight of ruined halls, trashed computers and cold sterile furniture that did remain- was this place ever inhabited?

“Woof, these people need some rugs, stat. It could really tie the room together…” Vector mused. He stumbled, looking down to see crumpled clothes and ash.

He grimly continued on. This wasn’t a time for jokes.

Espio let his eyes burn tirelessly, scanning every file he could access, unlocking more and more information as he worked. He wasn’t finding anything useful yet. It seemed many of the old Professor’s journals were less about the layout and use of the labs, and more centred on his own research and findings.

To come across files under “Project Shadow” kind of threw him for a bit of a loop. Entry after entry detailing the development of his “Ultimate Lifeform”.

Espio had only passing correspondence with Shadow. He was aware he had some significance and power by their previous interactions, but to imagine someone he had witnessed- had only known as another living breathing person- was once just a subject, even result of scientific research…

He found himself pouring over page after page logging development, experimenting, breakthroughs, discoveries- referring to Shadow the Hedgehog as almost a product, a concept. GUN funding the project to turn the project into some kind of super soldier weapon?

How disturbing, How dehumanising..

“Hey! I found something! Looking Lookie!!”

The Chaotix hustled into a room with a large window, overlooking the Earth. A smaller computer off to the side had been booted up, the monitor lit up with windows detailing the Black Arms.

“Good work Charmy! This is just what we needed! Now let’s do what we were paid to do!”

[lavender-teardroplettes]

Thank you for that post about To. and I am so sorry about everything. This was so well put together and not throwing around straight insults in each sentence. I see both sides throwing around hate without even explaining their sides of why they're sticking up for him or why they're mad. I was also one of the people giving him a chance to come back and apologize, people say stuff in the moment all the time and I felt like he deserved that chance. But, then he just left.

At first I thought his post was okay, I understand not getting neopronouns, not liking the idea of people showing too much at pride parades, or people under 18 getting surgery. Those are things I could understand but when the n*zi and racism down play happened? I was in shock and upset. Still, I wanted to at least give him a chance to comeback fresh and see if he would apologize... but he left.

If I'm being honest. Both sides weren't handled at all properly and you guys who explain it make it so much better to understand then others just writing it off as hate, telling people to kys, or getting called cis and not trans, which I am, as an insult. Everyone is still upset so I'm letting it go but I will stand by what I said and if that gets me hated just for giving him a chance or not supporting either side than that's okay. Thank you again for your amazing post and I hope you have a wonderful day.

TW: I’ll be detailing some of my experiences subtly and trying not to go into full detail.

Hi there. I don’t know who you are, but thank you for reaching out.

There’s a lot I want to say on Tom’s views, but many people have done that for me with their own time and energy and I appreciate them. I’m going to use this space to come out and say that I use neopronouns now in light of the situation. You’re allowed to use he/him, they, them, and fae/faer/faers when talking about me. I’ve been wanting to use these pronouns since first learning about them back in…idk…2014(?), but….I’m Black and of indigenous heritage, it’s hard enough being nonbinary on top of everything.

I highly suggest taking courses in gender and sociology, it was one of the most informative and open spaces for discussing gender, gender expressions, and touches on intersectionality within the Black community and being Queer during my college years as someone who was told that if I entered those spaces that I’d be molested…despite that happening more in the spaces I shared with cis/straight people .

I will echo what a lot of people have said and what I know from my own personal research as a trans person in an unsupportive family and as someone whose partner’s adopted little brother is going through: Children don’t go through gender affirming surgeries. In some cases, a 16 year old can with expressed consent from a therapist, their parents, and themselves. And honestly? It’s no one’s business. Out side of that, most children are placed on hormone blockers until they’re over 18 and able to take the right hormone replacements to experience puberty properly and develop what they need to before surgeries are viable.

On the topic of pride, in my experience in both small communities and going to San Francisco pride, there are safe spaces for children. Parades usually have an itinerary that parents can look at and guide their children appropriately. I am 100% on the side that human bodies aren’t inherently sexual as a demisexual person. It’s on the parents to PARENT their children appropriately, not complete strangers just trying to exist and feel good about themselves for ONCE instead of being afraid of hatred, death….so much…it’s so fucking much…

That being said….yes, I wanted to give him space. I really wanted to give him a chance to do better, but he’s going to have to do a lot more now before I forgive him or accept an apology and actually move on and want to engage with his content again. I just want people to really sit and conceptualize the situation and just how much people are hurting. And if I have to be that voice, then I will be. Please bare with me. 🙏🏽

Again….no harassment towards anyone. You’re allowed to realize your mistakes and apologize, but there’s work you need to do to make it stick.

Edit: Also, people are allowed to be upset, but there’s a line when you send death threats. I AM, however, in the sentiment that the only good N*zi is a dead one. Half of my family didn’t flee to America for no reason- if they weren’t already fighting against them. Those are harsh words, but it’s my truth seeing the PAIN it’s caused my family first hand. I wouldn’t ever wish that on anyone, but you are NOT in good standing with me if you support any form of N*zism.

[mainstoryarchive]

Underachievers - 1: Sleeper

Aira: —wake up.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Meeting room, StarPro

Early summer, a certain room in the Ensemble Square

Aira: —wake up.

Hey, wake up already…

Hiiro: …!?

Aira: Nhya!?

Hiiro: …? …?

Where… am I? Who are…?

Are you… an idol?

…No, that's wrong. You aren’t.

Aira: What? I hate to break it to you but I am an idol for what it’s worth…

Are you still half-asleep? You were sleeping so peacefully, I’m sorry I woke you up…?

But… Look here, at my arm. You’ve been clasping it like a vise for a while and it really hurts, you know?

If you want to boast your grip power that's fine and all, but I'll be troubled if it leaves a mark so can you let go already?

Hiiro: ? Ah! I’ve been a bother!

I’m so very sorry! However I did not have the intent to hurt you! Let me offer you my deepest apologies!

Aira: Haha. You kinda talk like a person from history books. Ra-vely♪

Hiiro: Rafh​…? I apologize if my actions have displeased you. Though I have referenced some of the relevant literature,​ I am still unaware of what constitutes as general knowledge in the city.

Aira: It’s not so bad that you have to apologize for it. No need to worry♪

More importantly, won't you let go already?

Hiiro: I apologize for making you repeat yourself again and again.

…You seem quite delicate, are you eating properly?

Aira: Hm? I am quite the picky eater, but I also make sure to choose what to eat to keep my body in perfect condition.

At any rate, I properly eat three meals a day.

Hiiro: I see, that's great! You can't survive without eating. This is common sense in the city as well. Fuhahaha♪

Aira: (Hm, what's with this guy​…? He's so weird! Though the fact that he's here means that he's probably also an idol.)

(I haven't seen him around here before, is he new? I've been keeping a check on idol shows and information sites all around, but I'm pretty sure I don't know him…)

(Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he's just a lost stranger who wandered in here…)

(I mean, I did hear him mumble something horrifying, something an idol wouldn't ever say in his sleep. )

("I will kill idols", "I swear to crush idols” or the like. ​Hmm, I wonder what he was dreaming of. )

(I somehow can't help but be curious. It does seem like what I'm saying is getting through to him, so maybe I should just ask him directly.)

Hey, you-

Hiiro: Ah! I've forgotten to introduce myself! I am Amagi Hiiro. Amagi being my family name and Hiiro my own.

What is your name? Hehe, it has been impolite of me to speak without introducing myself.

Aira: Eh? Umm… ​I'm Shiratori Aira, I don't really get what's going on but, nice to meet you.

Hiiro: Yes! So your name is Shiratori Aira, I've got it memorized! It's a beautiful name!

Our meeting here couldn't have been just by chance. . I'd love to become friends with you♪

Aira: Huh? F-friends? Uh, it's not like I don't want to but​… Why ?

Hiiro: …Is that a no?

Aira: Uhhh, no, it's not that I won't, I just don't get why so suddenly! We only just met! I just have to wonder why you 're trying to get closer to me so readily.

C-could you be… one of my fans?

Hiiro: ? No, it's just that I believe friends are more important than anything else! It's better to have a lot of treasures. Don't you think so too, Aira?

Aira: Ah, and now you’re suddenly using my first name, no honorifics… Well, not like I really mind that.

I understand you came from the countryside, but over-familiar acts like that will get you hated in the city.

Being told "you can’t read the room", or the like. ​Isn't that exactly why you were also told to come here? I think people found you annoying… probably.

Hiiro: ? I do not follow your line of thought. I’d like you to explain in detail.

Aira: Well, I’m not sure either, I only saw some rumors on the internet​​​… But if I end up wrong I'll feel like an idiot and if it ends up true then that’d just be sad.

Because if I put those thoughts into words it feels like it really will come true.

Hiiro: Hm. If you say something, it'll come true? Is that how it works in the city?

Then I'll say this loudly: you and I are friends…☆

Aira: Stop, stop. We aren't friends, we are still just strangers who only introduced themselves to each other!

Jeez… What's with this? Talking with you makes me tired…

Hiiro: I’m told that so often! I wonder why. I’m intending to speak normally!

Be that as it may, are you really declining no matter what​, Aira? Will you really not become friends with me? Is there not even a one percent chance you will?

Ah, I'm so sad! I can feel my heart breaking!

Aira: Ah, jeez. Annoying! I get it already, I'll become friends with you so! Stop trying to get closer, aren't you way too heated?!

Hiiro: I see! So you will become my friend. I feel honored as well as blessed at the same time!

Ah, Aira, my dear friend! Let us get along well!

Please crush idols with me, you and I, as friends.

[ ☆ ]

← prev ❖ all ❖ next →

[talonsaga-trash]

I did not realize how fucking smart Tristan is until this reread. Because unlike Garret, he had absolutely no firsthand experience with dragons, and it still only took until Soldier for him to start shifting his views to fit the evidence he was given.

Look at this from his perspective: he’s a soldier of St. George. All he has seen and heard about from ages 12-21 are that dragons are evil, and in nine years, he’s compiled a lot of evidence to affirm that, because he’s been interacting with Talon. The first scene he’s meeting him, he’s fighting a dragon that has a hand in the South American cartels. He’s probably seen victims of the worst of what Talon does— war funding, human trafficking, drug rings, every damn human rights violation known to man. Some of those former victims might be part of St. George, now. He might even be one of them. And according to the information he’s been given, dragons are all a part of Talon, so there’s no reason for him to believe that dragons can be good. 

Garret gets firsthand experiences with a dragon. Tristan distinctly does not, and Garret gives him no information throughout book 1. So when Garret (a pathos driven character) flips sides, Tristan (a logos driven character) can’t make the same leap because yes, he’s loyal to his partner, but in order to make the leap to dragon’s aren’t all evil, he’d have to accept that Talon isn’t all evil. And from all of the evidence he has, that’s untrue.

So how long, one asks, does it take for him to re-evaluate this? Well, from Garret’s perspective, it takes until about halfway through Inferno, but let’s face it, Garret is not an objective narrator and has a lot of baggage concerning Tristan St. Anthony. And Tristan does retain his caution around dragons until around that time, because that’s the smart thing to do when faced with a 500 pound firebreathing lizard.

In reality, it takes until his and Garret’s conversation in the coffeeshop during Soldier.

The thing is, Garret has been insisting to him since the end of Talon that not all dragons are evil, but hasn’t given any evidence, because all of his evidence is emotion driven, and Tristan can’t trust that. He functions by being able to take information and draw his own conclusions, and no matter how much he may want to, he cannot do that with other people’s emotions. But in Soldier, Garret finally gives him the information that he needs, and says that not all dragons are a part of Talon.

And you can practically see on the page how his demeanor shifts. Immediately, once Tristan can get access to that information, he’s willing to work with Garret. Because sure, that involves trusting his partner isn’t outright lying to him, but that is still a piece of impartial information that he can work with. It no longer asks him to assume that Talon isn’t evil when they’re off committing atrocities. The next scene we see him, he’s able to look a dragon in the eye and have an extended conversation— not a civil one by any means, but a conversation nonetheless. They present a problem, and it takes less than forty-eight hours for Tristan to have a solution.

And you can see those echoes through the rest of the series. Tristan evaluating something, being given new information, and immediately re-evaluating and adjusting his world view as-needed. It’s not until Inferno that he has a proper conversation with a dragon, and by then he’s already adjusted so much of his views that he’s ready to have more emotional conversations (particularly in asking Ember if she loves Garret), backed by the informative knoweldge that he’s already parsed through.

He’s just. So smart. And he deserves credit for it.

[coldforestnight]

Trigger warning for csa and me just musing in your inbox sorry, but I.. how do I say this without coming off like I’m making light of anything, I don’t think someone - or at least a main character let’s call him Logan Roy - committing sexual abuse makes them a one note monster? Like I really do think he has at the very least crossed boundaries with his children, talks like he has, has been besties with Mo and the wolf Pack who are explicitly rapists. I don’t know, I see people saying trying to make Logan a sexual abuser is too villainous and he’s still a fascinating tragic character even if he is. But I also worry that’s my own history and wanting to project my own abuse and you’re good at talking about this stuff.

I agree that Logan has inflicted some level of sexual trauma on his children, and I do agree that this does not make him a “one note villain” or exceptionally monstrous. Let’s not forget this is the racist, misogynistic man who has made billions off stoking America’s bigotry through false information and who views those of lower classes to be literally inhuman, after all.

Please no one take this in bad faith, but: Something I have learned through my own experience with surviving incestuous sexual abuse is that you have to acknowledge your perpetrator not as a cartoon villain who did these things to antagonize or hurt you, but as a person who themself is hurting as well, and most likely caught in a cycle of their own pain or abuse. Of course that doesn’t excuse what they did to you, but it does explain why this awful thing happened. You weren’t abused because you’re a horrible person that deserves agony, you were abused because so many people are flawed and broken, and you have the chance to heal from that.

Logan’s children are incapable of seeing him as a real, human person. He’s like a demigod to them. They aren’t able to deal with the pain he has inflicted on them, because of the power he wields over them (even in death). We as the audience should be able to see him as a man with countless flaws but still human. Anything less than that is an uninformed, uncritical reading of the text.

[pianostarinwonderland]

The Bass, The Drum, and The Piano [On The Dynamic of the Octavinelle Trio]

The Octavinelle trio has a really interesting dynamic with each other that captivates many players, myself included. What I always found interesting is that the instruments that they played in middle school can give a deeper view on their relationship. There is symbolism found in the little band that they formed back then, and I want to talk about it and supplement it using dialogue said in the game. 

Before getting into this post, disclaimer that there will be spoilers from Chapters 3 and 4, Dorm Azul vignette, Dorm Jade vignette, Dorm Floyd vignette, Robe Azul vignette, Robe Jade vignette, and Robe Floyd vignette. I will also mention here that I am not a jazz musician nor have I formally studied music theory. The information I’m putting in this post are from other people that I talked to, research that I have done, and my own experiences as someone who took piano lessons so I may be flawed in some areas, and you’re free to correct me or add on any experiences or knowledge you may have. 

If you're here, have fun because this post is going to be a long one. 😇

Because there's a lot to the analogy of the trio's instruments and their relationship, I'm dividing this post into three parts.

Part 1: Floyd Plays the Drums, Jade Plays the Bass, and Azul Plays the Piano

In Robe Floyd story, Floyd tells Kalim about the middle school band that he, Jade, and Azul created. He was on the drums, Jade was on the bass, and Azul was on the piano. Together, they formed a jazz trio. 

The jazz trio is most commonly composed of a drummer, a bassist, and a pianist. Together, they already have the rhythm, the harmony, and the melody. The rhythm can be found in the drums and the bass, the harmony is played by the bass, and the melody comes from the piano. 

First, let’s talk about Floyd, the drummer. The role of the drummer is to set the rhythm and to keep the music on that beat. The drummer also provides excitement to the music by doing fast solo performances on the drums. 

As we all know by now, Floyd is incredibly moody, and this moodiness reflects in his playing. According to Robe Floyd vignette, he would actually speed up the rhythm, which caused Azul to get mad at him.

Floyd: We had our own little trio going, with Azul on piano and Jade on bass. Azul always got mad at me for speeding up the tempo or doing my own thing, though. (Robe Floyd vignette EN)

However, we should not overlook the fact that he is fundamentally meant to keep the music on the rhythm that he sets. He ensures that the melody does not rush or drag. In other words, he keeps the trio, especially Azul, stable. 

The best example of Floyd keeping this stability is the scene in Chapter 3–23, where Floyd accidentally directs a cauldron towards the safe. 

Azul: Floyd! Watch where you’re directing that spell! You’ve aimed right for the vault, you fool!

Floyd: Whoopsie-daisy. Sorry about that.

Azul: No... The door’s damaged! The dial and hinges aren’t shot, are they?! ...Phew. Okay, good. 

Azul: How many times have I told you not to use your signature spell so carelessly?! What will it take to get it through your head?!

Floyd: I said I was sorry, okay? You don’t gotta get all bent outta shape over one little ding.

Azul: You’d have me save my protestations for when it’s completely demolished, then?! (Chapter 3–23 EN)

We all know that Azul lost control of his emotions in this scene because the safe that got hit contains his contracts, which are not invincible. And initially, Floyd seems flippant about that fact. 

But he’s not. If anything, he’s ensuring that the facade of invincibility that Azul worked so hard to build remains. He’s making sure that the performance keeps on going, tries to make sure that Azul isn’t straying away from the tempo of their figurative music that they’re playing for the students of NRC. Remember that Ace, Deuce, Jack, Yuu, and Grim were in that room. He needed to make sure that the act was still up when Azul was nearly ruining it so that their plan can continue to proceed smoothly later on. 

Even outside of that scene, Floyd has also m that things go according to plan, otherwise Azul would get mad. You could see this in his Dorm story. The entire reason why he buys the rights to Sam’s shop is because Azul would be upset with him. 

Floyd: Azul likes these kinds of shiny stones, so maybe I’ll give this to him.

Floyd: Then maybe he won’t get angry that I wasn’t able to get the rights to that drink from the school store… (Dorm Azul vignette part 3 TL by mysteryshoptls)

Sam: Then… the rights to the Mystery Drink that you originally wanted! How about that!?

Floyd: Eh? Seriously? That okay?

Sam: If I can get my hands on that gemstone, then it’s a no-brainer! Here you go, the contract with my signature that signs away the sales rights.

Sam: As long as you have this, my best-selling product, the Mystery Drink, is all yours.

Floyd: You’re really fired up all of a sudden. Is that rock that valuable?

Floyd: …Eh, I don’t really care, and I’d rather Azul not get angry at me, so whatever. (Dorm Azul vignette part 3 TL by mysteryshoptls)

We know that Azul’s anger will sour Floyd’s mood, as seen in Chapter 3–23 after Azul got mad at him, so in this sense, Floyd wants to keep things steady. He wants to maintain a current rhythm that leaves all of them happy and keeps a certain peace. In fact, he even remarks this at the end of Dorm Jade vignette when Jade comes back.

Floyd: Aha. Feels nice now that everything’s back to normal～ (Dorm Jade vignette part 3 TL by mysteryshoptls)

Now, let’s go to Jade, the bassist. The role of the bassist is to play the bass line. Bass lines are essentially the lowest part of the music that contains the fundamental chords of the music. They also provide the rhythm, so Jade and Floyd work hand in hand when it comes to that. But what the bassist does differently from the drummer is that he lays the foundation for the melody by playing the fundamental chords. The melody can do whatever, but it has to be in tune with the chords of the bass line and keep note of the home chord that the bass line sets, in a way guided by the harmony of the bass. Home chord is the most important chord of any piece of music and the chord where the music would resolve to most of the time, the chord where the music "goes home to".

It fits the nickname that Rook calls him in JP: Monsieur Mastermind. The idea that he is the one who plays the fundamental notes in the music would symbolize that he’s the one who lays the foundation of some of Octavinelle’s plans, which may include steering certain people to do whatever it is he needs them to do. You see this in his Dorm SSR when he makes Vil see him as a person that he can use so that he can get Vil to unintentionally promote Mostro Lounge. 

Jade: Vil-san is quite strict with himself, as well as others.

Jade: That is why I believed there was a possibility that he would keep me by his side and not refuse me simply for being from a different dormitory.

Jade: It was critical that Vil-san would see me as someone he could “use.” (Dorm Jade vignette part 3 TL by mysteryshoptls)

Riddle also confirms Jade’s deviousness in Robe Jade vignette. 

Riddle: He is always plotting with Azul. If anything, he has also taken the lead on some of their schemes! (Robe Jade part 2 TL by mysteryshoptls)

Riddle: At first glance, it may seem like Jade defers to Azul and Floyd, but that is a huge mistake.

Riddle: Sometimes he uses them for his own amusement as well. (Robe Jade part 2 TL by mysteryshoptls)

Since Jade also plays the home chord, he is in charge of making sure the melody remembers to settle that home chord. Since he’s also in the rhythmic section, even if the drummer decides to go off and do something exciting, the bassist still keeps the rhythm, reminding the trio of the beat of the music. This could symbolize how Jade is the one who calms down Azul and Floyd or even keeps them in control, which is shown in a few scenes. 

In the aforementioned scene in Chapter 3–23, while Azul and Floyd were arguing, Jade cuts in:

Jade: Okay, you two, settle down. Otherwise, they’ll get away. (Chapter 3–23 EN)

And they do indeed stop arguing because they completely forgot what they were supposed to do: stop Ace, Deuce, Jack, Grim, and Yuu from getting away. 

In Robe Jade vignette, Riddle tells Jade to stop Floyd from interrupting Heartslabyul’s preparations for the freshmen welcome party. 

Riddle: It is because I am busy that I have been searching for you. I need you to do something about Floyd.

Jade: Floyd?

Riddle: He is continuously interrupting the preparations for the Heartslabyul new student welcoming party!

Riddle: We need to follow the procedures and menu set by the Laws of the Queen of Hearts, so…

Riddle: At this rate, we will not finish the preparations in time.

Floyd: Kingyo-chan, where aaare youuu?

Riddle: He's here…! As Octavinelle's Vice Dorm Leader, you need to keep a proper eye on Floyd, do you understand?

Riddle: Otherwise, it will be off with your head, so keep that in mind.

Jade: Well, I suppose we cannot be causing any trouble for other dorms. Understood.

Floyd: Hey, Jade. Have you seen Kingyo-chan? We were playing, but he disappeared～

Jade: Floyd, perhaps you should refrain for now. Riddle-san is quite busy with his dormitory tasks. (Robe Jade part 2 TL by mysteryshoptls)

Last but not least, Azul is the pianist in this trio. Unlike the drummer and bassist, the pianist plays the melody of the music. If you look up the definition of a melody, you’ll more or less get this: The melody is a series of notes that is arranged in a sequence that makes it memorable and musically satisfying. Essentially, the pianist is in charge of creating the sequence of notes in the music, occasionally having to improvise it. It’s symbolic of how Azul is the one who thinks of the plans, such as the plan to counter the Mystery Shop in Dorm Azul’s vignette, the idea on how to make a better moisturizer than Vil’s in Robe Azul’s vignette, and the plan to expose Jamil in Chapter 4. 

Rhythms can be catchy and memorable, but in the end, the part that people will most often remember is the melody of the music. It’s always the one people will sing when they want to sing a certain tune. It’s symbolic of how Azul is always the “face” of the trio. Even going by the rumors that we hear about what the trio does, it’s always “Azul can make your wishes come true”, even though much of the time, Azul gets a lot of help from Jade and Floyd in granting everyone’s wishes. You see this in Robe Azul's vignette, where Azul was brainstorming with Jade and Floyd for a moisturizer that could beat Vil’s. 

Chapter 3 also pretty much exhibits Azul as the person in the spotlight among the trio. He’s the one who announced to the students who lost to him that they’d have to work for him (and for Sea Witch’s sake, there’s a literal spotlight on him that time). He’s the one who Yuu and Grim challenge in a contract. Whenever people are in a battle against the trio, they always talk about Azul’s abilities. 

Ace: How many kindsa magic can this Azul guy bust out?! I call shenanigans!

Jack: Did Azul’s golden contract deflect all of your attacks? (Chapter 3–5 EN, after the battle)

Jack: Argh... I never knew housewardens were this powerful! (Chapter 3–23 EN, after chapter 3–22 battle)

The melody is also the most interesting and entertaining part of the music, hence why it’s the most memorable. Azul represents that entertainment in the trio’s dynamic, and it’s not a secret that the twins stick with Azul because they find themselves amused by him. This is explicitly stated in Chapter 4–26, when Floyd and Azul were describing to Jamil their relationship with each other. 

Jamil: Yet here you are now, presiding over them as housewarden. You have a curious relationship.

Floyd: Y’think? I just do what Azul says ‘cause it’s more fun that way.

Azul: I strongly doubt Jade or Floyd have any binding allegiance to me. This is all an elaborate game of pretend to them. If I made a poor choice as leader—or even simply a boring one, they would turn on me instantly and seize the housewarden seat for themselves. Not that I’d lose if they challenged me, of course.

Floyd: Yeah. We stick with him now ‘cause it’s fun. If it stops bein’ fun, we drop him like a bad habit. Easy. (Chapter 4–26 EN)

Part 2: The Unspoken Parts of Their Dynamic

For this part, let’s take a deeper dive on how much Azul, Jade, and Floyd really help each other. This time, however, this will have less quotations from the canon and will be listing mainly the possibilities of how they help each other based on the instruments that they play. 

I already mentioned that the drums and bass play the rhythm (and bass plays the harmony) while the piano plays the melody. Jade and Floyd being the rhythmic section of the jazz trio symbolizes that they support Azul, who plays the melody. The rhythmic section keeps the melody on a consistent beat so that it doesn’t rush or drag, and if ever the one playing the melody has a memory slip, the harmony and rhythm can help him get back on. 

It’s not a secret that the twins support Azul in canon. They help him with his plans, and Azul relies on them. But aside from helping with the plans, it can’t be denied that Jade and Floyd are Azul’s emotional support. We see this in Chapter 3–33, where Azul further breaks down when Jade and Floyd refuse to help and the latter calls him lame. Notably, this is the scene right before the overblot. (I have more commentary on this moment in this post.)

Azul: Jade! Floyd! Ahhh, you’ve finally come back to me. Would you believe that thanks to these fools, I’ve lost all of my contracts? Which is why I’m going to need your powers now. Come on, give them to me!

Jade: Hold on. Your signature spell is so powerful, it’s impossible to control without a contract scroll. You know better than anyone what will happen if you do this!

Azul: But I lost it all, you see? Everything... Aha ha... AHAHAHA! I’m going to revert back to my old self if I don’t act now! 

Floyd: Y’know, Azul, I never saw you as lame before. But now? The way you’re actin’ is pretty lame.

Azul: Ooohh, is that a fact? I’m just a silly little octo-twerp who can’t do anything on his own. That’s why I’m going to take everyone’s powers. I will rise above your perceptions. (Chapter 3–33 EN)

Something that isn't talked about, however, is how much the twins value Azul. Jade and Floyd may claim that they’re sticking to Azul for their amusement, but they do care about him. You see this in Chapters 3–32 and 3–35, when they realized something must have happened to Azul and when they saw Azul wake up after his overblot. 

Jade: We’d best be getting back, Floyd. If the anemones are gone from their heads...

Floyd: Yeah, I got a real bad feelin’ about this. (Chapter 3–32 EN)

Floyd: Oh, he’s awake.

Jade: Azul, how many fingers am I holding up? 

Azul: Eight...

Jade: Okay. You appear to still be out of it, but I’m so relieved. We were able to stop your blot-induced rampage. (Chapter 3–35 TL by shel_bb)

But aside from those moments, Jade and Floyd probably stick to Azul for one thing: the need to be understood. 

Now, I say probably because we don’t know the extent of how much the twins do value him and why they do so beyond entertainment, at least in the canon. But thinking on the jazz trio dynamic, the bass and the drums are stringed and percussive instruments respectively. As for the piano, it’s both. The piano is a stringed instrument because it makes sound by having the hammers make contact with the strings, and it is a percussive instrument because the hammers hit the strings of the piano to make music. This can symbolize how Azul can connect with both Jade and Floyd. 

Additionally, if Azul is the one playing the piano and thus the melody, he’s playing the part that would not only entertain but would also touch people. 

Music in general has been proven to be therapeutic (so much so that there’s even music therapy). Often, we would say that we relate to certain pop songs because of the lyrics, which almost always make up the melody of the song. But even if the music has no lyrics, the melody can still touch us. And again, it’s almost always the melody that’s most memorable. 

Jade and Floyd aren’t people who are easy to get along with due to how intimidating they are. At least on the surface, this doesn’t seem to faze them, but even they want to be understood as well. And Azul provides that for them. He knows the things they’re good at, he knows how to utilize their talents for certain plans, and they’re always in on those plans because of how entertaining they are. But more than that, Jade and Floyd probably gain a certain satisfaction from having someone outside of their little bubble who knows them. 

Part 3: The Bass and Piano

I don’t intend to promote any ships with this segment, but I do want to focus on Jade and Azul in this part. See, Jade and Azul seem to be closer to each other than Floyd and Azul. While Floyd would rather duke it out, Jade and Azul are the type to scheme and use their words to get people to do what they want. While Floyd is blunt, Jade and Azul aren’t above lying. While Floyd can fly on a broom, Jade and Azul struggle in flight class. 

They also have this neat little similarity where Azul’s current pose: 

Is like younger Jade’s pose (on the left):

Now I want to bring a bit of attention onto the pose similarity because there's speculation regarding that. That was Jade in his younger days, when he and Floyd first met and got to know Azul. And if Azul has a similar pose in the present, there's an implication that Azul followed Jade's mannerisms and/or looked up to him as a model for how to get better, and the habits just stuck as time went on.

This leads me to my main points on this part. If Jade plays the essential chords of the music, which acts as a guide for the melody, and he plays the home chord that the melody also has to settle to, that could symbolize how Azul was guided by Jade and was led to “home” (becoming a better person) thanks to him. 

But it isn’t just Azul following Jade. The structure of a piano is so complicated that they can only be tuned by a professional piano tuner. Because of this, if any stringed instrumentalist has to play together with a pianist, the former always has to tune to the piano since they can afford to tune their own instrument. Even if the piano is out of tune, the stringed instruments have to tune to the piano. 

Now remember that Jade plays the bass, and Azul plays the piano. That would mean that for a rehearsal or performance, Jade would tune his bass to Azul's piano. And this analogy could imply that Jade would follow Azul. Even if the piano would be out of tune, even if Azul would be broken, Jade would still follow him.

Drums don't have to tune to the piano. Floyd can do what he wants, but Jade would stick with Azul.

We do sort of see this in the scene before Azul's overblot in Chapter 3–33, where Jade was telling Azul to stop what he's doing or else he might blot too much while Floyd called him lame. But if you were to ask me what would happen after NRC days, if they have to decide whether to stay on land or go back to the sea, I would answer that Jade would probably go where Azul goes based on this.

Final Thoughts

There’s honestly a lot more that I can talk about with this topic, but this post is getting long. It’s pretty amazing how well thought out Octavinelle’s dynamic is. It’s one of the reasons why they’re so popular. But it’s even more amazing when realizing the writers were thinking of them as a jazz trio, who can not only create and accomplish great things together but also help each other out. 

tl;dr Octavinelle is amazing, their dynamic is so hrrrgduurru it goes brbrbrbrbrbrrr

[floraltypes]

lots of innocent and not so innocent touches

With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3

who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader

an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/

please continue to send in asks !!

unedited :/

Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.

The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.

A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.

Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.

Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.

But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.

“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”

“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.

“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.

“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”

“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”

Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.

“Who’s that?”

“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.

“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.

“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”

“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.

“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.

———————-

“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.

Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”

“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”

“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”

“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.

“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.

“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.

“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.

“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.

“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”

“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.

“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”

“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”

“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.

“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”

“Some will do.”

“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.

“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.

“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”

“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.

“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”

“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.

The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.

“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.

“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.

“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”

Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.

Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.

“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.

You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.

It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.

Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.

“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.

You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.

“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”

The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.

———————

The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.

Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.

A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.

Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.

It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.

It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.

It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.

You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.

“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.

“It was. We make a good team.”

“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”

“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”

“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.

“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.

“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.

“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”

“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”

“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”

“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.

[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.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Plum Cobbler

Steve x Barnes!reader, Bucky x platonic!reader

Summary: What happens when Steve confronts the woman who's been sitting outside the compound every Saturday for a month?

Warnings: mentions parental death, some cursing

Word Count: 6315

a/n: This really took on a mind of its own. I was going to make it a series, but I feel like this is the whole story.

Masterlist

Nervous didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling. Sitting in your car, just outside of the entrance gate to the Avenger's compound was never somewhere you thought you'd be. Not until two months ago, when you found your grandmas old scrapbooks.

Of course, you don't know how to get inside. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Why would just anyone be able to walk up to their door?

"Who are you?" The sudden question startled you, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of your car. You turned to look at the source of the voice, shrinking under her watchful gaze.

The one and only Natasha Romanoff was standing outside your car, glaring at you as if she was ready to drop everything to take you out.

"Oh, um. My name is Y/N L/N. I just wanted to talk to Bucky..." Her glare only grew stronger as you revealed why you were there.

"Barnes doesn't talk to strangers." Before you could explain why, she was gone. You watched her walk into the compound until she wasn't in your view anymore.

"Well, that went horribly." You mumbled to yourself. Now what? Should you just sit there until someone else comes out? Will anyone come out?

-

"So who is she?" Clint asked as soon as Nat got back inside.

"Why is she here?" Sam added on.

"Said her name is Y/N L/N, and she wants to talk to Bucky." Nat rolled her eyes.

"Friday, run a background check on F/N L/N." Tony asked of the AI. "What? You can never be too careful, and people shouldn't know how to get here." He explained given the questioning looks from the rest of the group.

"Y/N L/N, 27, daughter of the deceased Kathleen and Grant L/N. She owns a bookstore in Brooklyn, passed down through her family. No criminal record." Friday responded quickly.

"Sounds normal enough, probably a fan?" Tony suggested, looking around the room.

"A persistent one. She's been here for hours." Steve looked out the window, still seeing your car just outside the gate. "How did she find the entrance?"

Everyone shared similar looks, unsure how a seemingly normal civilian found the gate.

"Excellent question, Capsicle. Friday, got any ideas?" Tony, as usual, turned to the AI for answers.

"Based on GPS data from her car, she drove around upstate New York for eight hours every Saturday for the last 6 weeks until she came across the side road leading to the compound."

"Either she's really good at looking normal, or she's just normal." Nat added on, still slightly suspicious.

"Well, she just left. I guess we're not getting any answers today." Steve said from his position still looking out the window.

-

You came back every Saturday for a month. You didn't know if anything would come of it, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. After your parent's deaths, you thought you had no family left. Finding out you were related to Bucky gave you a lifeline. Something to cling to when you felt alone.

So far, nobody else had come to talk to you. You didn't even know if Bucky knew you were there for him.

The fifth Saturday, you pulled your car up to the gate at 9 am, sticking to your makeshift schedule of waiting outside for the entire day. They had to at least be curious as to why you kept coming back.

Unfortunately for you, the weather upstate today was not the same as the weather in Brooklyn.

Around 10:30, it started to rain. Just a sprinkling, nothing you couldn't handle.

You listened to music, read, ate the lunch you packed, played games on your phone, anything to pass the time. You weren't going to force your way inside, but you were definitely going to show that you were interested.

Typically, you would leave at 5:30. It gave you enough time to drive home and heat up dinner, plus you had to check in on your cat.

Today, however, was a different story. Around 5:15, it started pouring. Sheets of water were coming down around you, completely cutting off any visibility through the windshield.

You figured you'd just wait out the rain, but when it didn't let up by 6, you were getting nervous.

-

"She's still here." Steve walked into the kitchen, announcing his news to the room.

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly peak driving conditions out there." Sam easily responded, glancing out the window.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" Steve asked again, pushing the same conversation as always.

Nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes, sick of repeating the same things.

"Look, we figured if we ignored her, she'd eventually stop. Clearly, that might not be working. If you're so curious, feel free to go ask her." Tony gave in, eager to move on from the discussion of you.

Steve contemplated his choices for all of 2 seconds before grabbing an umbrella and walking down the driveway.

-

You had your head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, listening to the rain. Of course you would get stuck here. Why didn't you ever check the weather?

You shrieked when a knock sounded on your passenger side window, not having expected anyone, especially in the rain.

Mr. America himself pointed to the door, gesturing for you to unlock it. You sat up quickly, rushing to hit the unlock button.

He quickly opened the door, shutting his umbrella and lowering himself into the small car.

You were utterly speechless. After your brief encounter with Natasha, you didn't really expect anyone to come talk to you.

Sure, you came back every week, but it was more so to fill the lonely hours you would have normally spent with your parents at the bookstore.

You had other employees to run the shop on Saturdays, allowing you to come here instead.

"Why are you here?" He sounded more curious than anything. Clearly he didn't perceive you as a threat, which was good because you had zero fighting experience.

"To talk to Bucky." Your voice was quiet, unsure how much you should share.

"I know that. Why?" He had fully turned in his seat to look at you, his large frame filling nearly the entire car.

"Well, I found something a few months ago that I thought he should know." You stuttered through your response, mildly intimidated by the man in front of you.

"And that something is?" He questioned further, genuinely curious as to what you want to tell his best friend.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the car, looking at anything but him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before speaking again.

"Look, if you ever want to actually talk to him, you should tell me. Buck's been through hell, he won't just talk to anyone. Especially if he has no reason to."

During your conversation, the rain finally let up. You decided to take that as a sign.

"Can I show you something?" You finally looked him in the eye, nearly forgetting why you were even here at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

"Is it the reason you've been out here every Saturday for over a month?" He joked with you, helping to calm your nerves.

You nodded in response, unsure if you could even speak while still looking into his eyes.

"Then please."

You tore your eyes from his face, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the spot you've claimed as your own. You turned around, heading back to your apartment in Brooklyn.

"Wha- where are we going?" He's clearly surprised by your actions, but he doesn't seem worried.

"I'm going to show you what I found, and hopefully you'll let me talk to Bucky." You paused for a minute, thinking. "Although, really I guess it should be his choice. Maybe you can just give him a message for me, and if he doesn't want to talk I'll leave you all alone."

The idea of never getting to know Bucky, you're only remaining family, hurts, but it's got to be his decision.

Steve just nods in response, still slightly wary of your reasons for wanting to talk to Bucky.

When you're a few minutes away from your apartment, you decide to give him some context.

"You probably already know a lot about me, but let me explain a few things." He silently nods, encouraging you to continue.

"My parents died three and a half months ago." You immediately felt like crying, but did your best to hold it in. Of course, Steve didn't miss the break in your voice. "It was a car accident. The weather was bad. They lost control of the car. They were both pronounced dead on the scene." You parked the car, turning slightly to look at him.

"They were the only family I've ever had, and the were both just gone." You turned and opened the car door, taking a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes. You gestured for him to follow you, locking the car and heading inside your apartment building.

"We were really close. I spent every Saturday at the bookstore with them." You wiped the tears again as the elevator doors closed.

You didn't chance looking at Steve, knowing you would break down at the look of pity.

"I had to go through the stuff at their house. You know, decide what to bring here, what to put in storage, what to get rid of. I found some old scrapbooks, I think from my great grandma."

You lead him into your apartment, locking the door and immediately heading to the kitchen to feed your cat. After you set down the food, you moved to the couch. You had the scrapbooks on the coffee table, having taken every opportunity to look through them.

"I never knew her. My parents didn't talk about her either, I'm not sure if they knew who she was. Her name was Rebecca." You waited a beat, to see if he would understand. When he remained quiet, you handed him one of the books, open to a page with a picture of Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca. "Rebecca Barnes."

You waited again, letting the information sink in for him. After a few minutes he smiled.

"I remember this day." He looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "It was a few days before Bucky was enrolled. We had a picnic." He continued to reminisce, looking through the other pictures in the scrapbook.

"Maybe it's selfish, maybe he won't want to know me, but when I found out I had more family, I wanted to find him." Again, tears pooled in your eyes. "I, I just don't want to be alone."

Steve's smile faltered as he realized what you've been going through, and how you've been doing it alone.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you." He reached out to place a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you.

"Really?" Your eyes were still watery, but a small smile grew on your face.

"I think so. Bucky was really close with his sister when we were young." This time, Steve's eyes grew watery, memories of his youth playing through his mind.

You couldn't take the sight of him being sad, so you pulled him into a hug. He came willingly, letting you bury your face in his chest. He lowered his head so it was overtop of yours, relishing in the comfort of your hug.

You pulled away a few minutes later, not wanting to overstep, but the feeling of his arms around your waist didn't let you go far.

"Thank you for coming out to my car." You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His face was so close to yours, you could make out the individual shades of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me." He whispered back, not wanting to break the moment.

You're not sure how long you would've stayed like that, but a loud crack of thunder jolted you apart.

"What the-" You mumbled, walking over to the window to look outside. Steve followed close behind you, also curious about the weather.

It was now pouring, lightning and thunder cracking overhead.

"I guess the storm followed us to Brooklyn." He joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess so." You looked at the clock, taking in the late hour.

Steve must've followed your line of sight, because he spoke up. "It's getting late, I should probably go."

You immediately shook your head, your fear of travelling in bad weather shining through. "I can't let you leave when it's like this. It's not safe. You, um, you can stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the couch." You grew more confident as you kept talking.

"I couldn't impose like that." Steve shook his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Steve, it's not safe to travel when it's raining like that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Your voice grew tighter, trying not to flashback to the day your parents died.

Steve seemed to realize why you were so worried about the weather, ultimately deciding to agree to stay so you wouldn't worry about him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stay here, but you sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the couch." He refused your offer, not wanting to force you to spend a night on the couch.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, you are sleeping in the bed. You're like two feet taller than me." You exaggerated your height difference, but you were trying to make a point. "You won't even be able to lay down on the couch. I take naps here all the time, it's super comfortable." You argued back, unwilling to allow Captain America himself sleep on your tiny ass couch.

"You know, I should've expected you to be this stubborn. You spent five weeks waiting outside the compound with no contact. Plus you're related to Bucky" He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head. "Fine, I'll sleep in the bed."

You smiled victoriously, jumping up from the couch. "Yay! Do you need anything? I have spare toothbrushes under the sink, and I can probably find you some clothes to sleep in. There's some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry. Oh! And Carrot might try to lay in the bed with you, but I'll try to keep her out here." You rambled, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

"Carrot?" He smiled at your rambling, finding it adorable.

"Yes! Carrot is my cat. She's a cuddler, so consider yourself warned." You paused, eyes growing wide. "You're not allergic to cats are you? I think there's probably cat fur all over my room."

He laughed again. "No, I don't think the super soldier serum left any room for allergies." He quipped.

You smacked a hand to your forehead. "Duh! Anyway, do you need anything?" You asked again, trying to calm your beating heart.

"Some clothes would be great, thank you." The way he smiled at you did nothing to soothe your nerves.

"Okay." You breathed out, finally taking a deep breath. "I'll go grab some, the bathroom is right here if you need it." You pointed it out on your way to your room. "I'm just gonna get changed real quick, and then I'll be back with your clothes."

He nodded again, watching as you turned and walked into what must be your room.

You quickly changed into a t-shirt and sleep shorts. It took a few minutes of searching through boxes, but eventually you found an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for Steve to sleep in.

You made your way out of the bedroom, handing him the clothes.

"Here ya go. Like I said, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, and don't hesitate to grab anything you need from the kitchen."

He eyed the clothes in his hands, wondering where they came from, but not wanting to ask.

Luckily for him, you could tell what he was wondering. "They were my dad's." A sad smile graced your face. "I- I sleep in them sometimes when I really wish I could talk to him."

"Thank you." Steve turned to go to bed, but changed his mind last minute. He set the clothes down on the couch, pulling you into another hug. "You know, I can tell your related to Buck. He always looks out for people too."

You blushed at the compliment, grateful he couldn't see your face. "Thank you, that really means a lot." You stayed like that until Steve pulled back to talk to you again.

"I can take you back to the compound tomorrow, if you want. Maybe introduce you to Bucky."

"Really?! You don't want to talk to him first? Or double check anything I told you?" You were shocked at how willing he was to introduce you to Bucky.

"I trust you. Plus, I think you should be the one to tell him." Steve didn't say it out loud, but he also thought you and Bucky would be good for each other.

Bucky had Steve to connect his past and present, but another person for him to rely on wouldn't hurt. And you clearly were looking for a family connection.

"I would love to. Thank you!" You hugged him again, although quicker this time. You jumped back, excited to collect everything you wanted to show him. "I have to find all the scrapbooks to show him!"

When you turned to start collecting things, Steve put a hand on your shoulder, essentially preventing you from moving.

"Why don't we get everything together in the morning? It's getting late and you should get some sleep." He understood how emotionally and physically draining it could be to relive a loss like yours.

"You're right. I should sleep." You tried to slow your mind down, but the prospect of meeting Bucky tomorrow filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves. You gathered your extra blankets and pillows, setting up a bed for yourself on the couch while he went into the bathroom.

You were snuggled in bed, ready to sleep when he came back out.

"Goodnight, Steve."

His heart contracted at how adorable you looked buried in blankets on the couch, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd only just met you after all.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

-

The next morning Steve woke up at 5, per usual. He didn't want to wake you up though, so, despite his natural tendencies to run 10 miles every Sunday morning, he stayed in bed.

That is, until he heard you shuffling around the apartment.

He poked his head out of the room first, trying to verify that you were indeed awake. When he saw you in the kitchen, he fully emerged intent on helping you with whatever you were doing.

"Good morning, you're an early riser?" His question was completely ignored. Granted you couldn't see him yet, but he didn't know why you would be ignoring him.

He made his way closer to you, tapping you on the shoulder to try and get you to interact with him.

You, in a mixture of surprise and fear, turned and threw an egg at him.

He looked at you in shock, while you stared in horror at what you had just done.

You took headphones out of your ears, explaining why you hadn't heard his question.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" You reached toward him with a dish towel, trying to wipe the egg off his (your dad's) shirt. "You just surprised me! I can get you another shirt!"

"It's fine, don't worry-" You ran out of the room anyway, grabbing another shirt of your dad's from the box in your room.

He couldn't help but laugh, oddly relieved that you weren't ignoring him.

When you reentered the kitchen, a shirtless Steve Rogers was washing your dad's shirt in the sink. You froze, taking in the sight of the man before you.

When he turned back around, your eyes took on a mind of their own, soaking in his toned chest and arms. You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your stupor to hand him the other shirt.

"Thanks." He smirked, but still blushed slightly before he put it on, ringing out the other shirt before handing it to you. "I didn't want the egg to stick to it since it was your dads, so i rinsed it off..." he trailed off, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

"That's really sweet, thank you. Especially because it was my fault there was even egg on it in the first place." You laughed, trying not to blush with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, really. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He laughed as well, clearing any lingering tension. He took a look around the kitchen, taking in just how much stuff you had out.

"What are you making?" He smiled when you blushed again.

"Oh, I was making plum cobbler... I just, I read online that Bucky likes plums, so I thought I would bring him a cobbler." You blushed again, embarrassed by the admission.

"He does." Steve smiled, completely enamoured with your personality. "Did you want some help?"

"Actually, the cobblers are in the oven already. I was going to make breakfast next, though, so you can help with that." You smiled, noting how easy it was to spend time with him.

"Cobblers? I know Bucky's a super soldier, but one would have been plenty." He joked with you, moving to help scramble some eggs.

"Well, yeah. One is for him, but then I thought the other Avengers might be there and I didn't want to not have enough so I made three."

"You're too cute." The words slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying.

You blushed again, a frequent occurrence it seems when you're with Steve.

You uttered a quick thanks, trying to change the subject. "Do you always get up this early?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, typically I don't need much sleep. I usually run in the mornings, try to clear my head."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, moving around each other effortlessly to make eggs, sausage, toast, and smoothies for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you collected the scrapbooks Bucky might want to see. You added his mom's wedding ring, the one your mom wore as well, to the box.

"What's that?" Steve pointed to the box, unsure if his assumption was correct.

You pulled out two scrapbooks, pointing to the near identical pictures of Bucky's mom and your mom after having been proposed to.

"My mom always told me her engagement ring was a family heirloom. I think it was his mom's ring too. I thought he might like to have it. As something to remember her by, ya know?"

You got teary eyed again. Thinking about how much he must miss his family combined with how much you miss your own parents was too much to handle.

You finished gathering everything, putting it all in a box to make for easier transportation. You took the cobblers out of the oven, packing them as well.

With a deep breath, you followed Steve back out to your car, ready to talk to Bucky.

-

"Where the hell is Steve?" Bucky nearly stormed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, calm down tinman. What's up?" Sam replied casually, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Where is Steve? I was supposed to run with him this morning, but he wasn't in his room when I went to find him. I don't even like running this early. I literally only do it because it's what he prefers."

Sam laughed, enjoying anything that annoys Bucky. "Dude, chill. He probably just forgot you were going with him."

Tony walked into the kitchen as well, trying to tune out the whines coming from Bucky, but failing.

"That's what I though, but he's always back by now." Bucky huffed, annoyed with Sam for laughing.

"Who?" Tony asked, now slightly intrigued.

"Steve. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Bucky replied as he angrily ate an apple.

"Really?" Tony sounded mildly concerned, immediately alerting Sam and confusing Bucky.

"You don't think?" Sam asked, ignoring Bucky for the time being.

"I don't know!" Tony looked bewildered. "Friday, where is Capsicle?"

"Captain Rogers left yesterday evening with Y/N L/N." The AI easily replied.

"Who?" Bucky questioned the room, never having learned your name.

"You know the woman who's been sitting outside every Saturday?" Bucky nodded to Sam, unsure why he was bringing it up. "Well, Steve went to ask her why she was here last night."

"Nat told me she was just some fan, wanted to see you all." Bucky furrowed his brow, thinking over the new information on Steve's wearabouts.

"Well, yeah that's what we thought. Look, she said she wanted to talk to you specifically." Sam explained, ignoring the pointed glare from Tony.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky rose from his chair, annoyed at everyone now. "Now she's got Steve?"

"Relax, Steve can handle himself. She cleared her background check. We really don't have any reason to believe he's in danger." Tony's words were more to convince himself than anyone else. He's the one who said Cap should go check it out if he was so curious.

"Steve's too trusting. What if it was a trap?" Bucky questioned, glaring daggers at the other two men.

Before they could respond, Friday chimed in with more information.

"Captain Rogers just entered the elevator from the parking garage."

"See, he's fine." Tony glared back at Bucky, secretly relieved that Steve was fine.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before leaving, heading for the elevators to yell at Steve for ditching him this morning.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Steve was not alone.

"Hey, punk, why'd you ditch me- Oh. Who are you?" Bucky eyed you suspiciously, looking between you and Steve.

Before Bucky interrupted, Steve was trying to reassure you that everything would work out. He had a hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your nerves.

His other arm was occupied by the box of scrapbooks, or else he probably would have hugged you again.

You were holding a large sheet pan, three pie dishes sitting on top.

Steve was blushing, a surefire sign Bucky had seen something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh, um. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N." You froze, not thinking you would have to see him so soon. You could see the family resemblance between him, your great grandma, and your mom.

"The car girl." He nodded, trying to piece together the events of last night.

"Yep, that's me." You laughed nervously, unsure of what he already knew.

"Buck, do me a favor? Let us out of the elevator." Steve eyed him, mildly annoyed with the ambush.

Bucky moved to the side, allowing you and Steve to exit the elevator. You followed Steve down the hall to the kitchen, where you put the cobblers on the counter.

Sam and Tony were still there, eating various foods.

"Well, hello there." Tony greeted when he spotted you, intrigued by the development. He looked at Steve for an explanation.

"Y/N made plum cobbler." Steve said instead, moving his hand back to the small of your back.

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of plums, enough to momentarily distract him from Steve's actions.

"Oh, right!" You took a cobbler out of the dish, moving toward Bucky. "This one's for you, because I read that you liked plums." You handed him the dish, quickly moving back to the others. "I also made a peach and an apple for everyone else." You smiled at Tony and Sam, unknowingly leaning slightly into Steve.

"Why does he get a special cobbler?" Sam whined, eagerly reaching for the other dishes.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Well, except Sam's who were on the peach cobbler.

"Oh, um, well, I was hoping I could talk to you." You looked at Bucky nervously, unsure of how he would respond.

"Anyone who bakes me a plum cobbler can talk to me, Doll." Natasha chose that exact moment to enter the room.

"Who made plum cobbler?" She looked around the room, eyes narrowing in your direction. "How did you get in here?"

"I brought her." Steve smiled at you before walking over to Natasha. He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear, but nobody else. "She's not a threat to your relationship, trust me."

Nat nodded her head, trusting Steve, although not for the reasons he thought. She could clearly see the blonde's affinity for you.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Bucky asked between bites of cobbler.

"It's really a private conversation." Steve answered for you, seeing how unsure of yourself you were.

"Then why do you know, punk?" Bucky countered.

"Well, I had to tell someone so I could finally talk to you. Steve's the one who asked." You smiled at Steve again, trying to convey how grateful you were with just a look.

Steve smiled back at you, while everyone in else just shared a knowing look.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "Buck, can you just come with us?"

Bucky nodded, moving to follow Steve while still eating the cobbler. You followed the two of them as well, growing more nervous with each step.

Steve lead you to his room, placing the box of scrapbooks on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Steve looked to you for an answer.

You took a deep breath, in all honestly you would love for him to stay, but you think you should probably just talk to Bucky first.

"No, that's okay. Come back in like, 30 minutes?" You scrunched up your face, unsure if 30 minutes was long enough, but knowing you would need the deadline if you were ever going to explain it all to Bucky.

Steve nodded, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you to leave the room.

"Um," you turned to Bucky, trying to think of where to start. "I don't know what you already know about me, but-"

"Nothing really. Except that you make a delicious plum cobbler." He smiled, helping to ease your nerves. Food really was the way to this man's heart.

"Oh, I guess I'll start where I started when I told Steve." You smiled at the mention of his name, unaware of your own actions. But Bucky noticed.

"My parents died a few months ago." Bucky's eyes went wide, trying to think of what this could have to do with him. "Um, it was a car accident. They both died on the scene." You took a deep breath, trying to push through the sad parts.

"I had to clean out their house, and I found some scrapbooks that lead me to you." You shifted closer to the bed, looking through the scrapbooks you brought.

You pulled out the one with the first picture you showed Steve, opening it and gesturing for Bucky to take it.

He set the cobbler on Steve's nightstand, cautiously reaching for the book. He looked at the picture for a long time before saying anything. And when he did talk, it was a whispered "Becca..."

He ran his fingers over the picture slowly, just staring. A few minutes later, he eagerly flipped the page. He spent a good 10 minutes just looking through all the books you handed him.

"Where did you get these?" He questioned, although not accusingly.

"I found them in my parents house. They were with a bunch of my grandma's stuff that she had from her mom." You wanted to ease him into it.

"So your great grandma..." He trailed off, disbelief clear across his face.

"Was Rebecca Barnes." You finished the sentence for him, nerves clear in your voice.

You weren't sure what to say next, so you waited for him to make the next move.

"So you're my... great-grand niece?" You nodded at his question, still unsure if he was happy with the news. "God, that makes me feel old."

You nearly cackled, surprised by the joke. He smiled when you laughed, glad to have cleared some of the tension.

"Why did you want to find me?" He questioned, the mood turning more serious again.

"Well, I was really close to my parents. They were the only family I had. When I found out you are family too, I just... I knew I needed to at least tell you." You shrugged at the end, unsure if you really answered his question.

"You wanted to tell me so badly that you sat outside the compound every Saturday for five weeks even after being ignored?" He was in shock that anyone would spend that much time and effort just to talk to him. You started panicking immediately.

"I'm so sorry if you didn't want to know! It was selfish of me to force this on you. I can go, if you want. You don't have to talk to me." You started questioning everything. You moved to put the books back in the box when he stopped you.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, you can keep those. If you want!" Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks when you remembered the ring. You froze with your hand in the box, not knowing if you'd want to part with it knowing you'd never see Bucky again.

"Y/N..." Something in the way he said your name made you look at him. "I- I'm glad you told me. Really glad. I, uh, I never thought I would have family, well besides Steve. You know what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, and you noticed the tears in his eyes.

"I don't want you to go. It's just hard for me..." he paused, trying to figure out his emotions. "It's hard to believe that someone would care about me that much."

"Bucky, I don't know you." He frowned at your statement. "But, I would love to get to know you." You smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not so sure you would." His face was hard, staring at the ground.

"Bucky, you aren't a bad person. I mean, sure you've done bad things, but it wasn't your choice. You were forced to do those things. You can't let yourself be defined by them. You're here aren't you?"

"Here?" He questioned.

"Working with the Avengers, I mean. You go on missions to help save people. That's your choice. That's who you are. I would be honored to get to know that person."

You smiled, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure?" He still looked unsure.

"God, maybe I get my stubbornness from you." You both laughed at that. "I am 100% sure."

"Wow." He shook his head, still in shock.

A knock sounded on the door before Steve came back in. "Is now a good time?" He asked, still standing in the doorway.

You nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." You pulled him into a hug, needing the emotional support.

"Of course. I'm happy I could help." He rubbed your back, reciprocating the hug. "Did you give him the ring yet?" He asked when you took a step back.

You shook your head, reaching into the box for the last item. "I, um, I thought you might want this." You handed him the box, nerves peaking through again.

He opened it, a soft smile on his face when he recognized it. "My mom's engagement ring."

You smiled, happy that he recognized it. "It was my mom's as well."

The two of you stared a the ring for awhile, reminiscing on time spent with your parents.

Eventually, Bucky picked the cobbler back up, not wanting to let it go to waste.

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend. "Wow, jerk. You're just gonna go back to eating."

"Yes, punk. My great-grand niece made me a plum cobbler, and I tend to fully enjoy it."

"Great-grand niece. Ha, that makes you sound so old."

It was fun for you to see the two interacting like this, especially after the emotional hurdles you just ran.

"It's fine, Stevie. Let him enjoy the cobbler." Your face went red, not having meant to use the nickname.

"Yeah Stevie, let me enjoy the cobbler." Bucky couldn't help but poke fun, knowing there was an unspoken attraction between the two of you.

Somehow your face got even redder. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Fine, eat your cobbler. Only because I had some of the apple one and it was delicious. It would be a shame to waste any."

You smiled at the compliment, embarrassment subsiding a bit. Steve sat down on the bed between you and Bucky, eager to ask his friend about some of the pictures. Steve put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder as he spoke to Bucky.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, exhausted since your nerves kept you up most of the night. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder, soaking in his warmth as you cuddled closer.

Steve just rubbed your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the interaction, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh my god. My best friend likes my great-grand niece. And she likes him." He said it so matter of fact, the two of you didn't bother denying it. You just smiled, and cuddled closer together.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.23

A Royal Invitation

05/02/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. It took me forever to get out after several life events that just couldn’t be ignored or put on the back burner. I had a lot of fun in the second half of this chapter and I hope y’all find it as entertaining as I did. Let me know what your favorite parts are! I’d love to know. As always, thanks for reblogging if you happen to do so. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is in celebration for three nights after you come home.

They’re not necessarily celebrating your return although that is part of why they’re happy, but the baby. The baby is already so loved. The baby is the city’s hope and future.

You can feel their exuberance when you and Thor take a walk through the city, flanked by Valkyrie with Loki on your left walking just slightly behind you.

He’s busy but smug and keeps his fingers moving swiftly across the screen of a tablet provided by Tony Stark who’d left the city taking Bruce with him back to the United States on Avengers business.

What Loki is doing, what's got him so glued to his tablet, you don’t find out until the evening of the first day of celebrations.

As your people’s cheers, laughter, and music filter in through the long wall of windows that Thor’s had thrown open to let the joviality in, Loki crosses to the long couch across from the one where you sit with Thor.

Legs thrown across his lap, Thor’s hands gently massaging your calves and feet, you lean back against the cushions that Thor set up against the arm for you.

The sitting room is long, rectangular and faces the East side of the palace. You can’t see the entire city and have more of a mountain view than on the West side where your rooms are and you can see the expanse of the ocean.

Like the rest of the palace, it’s decorated in a mixture of wood and silver steel. The chandeliers above are carefully carved and wired, the lighting kept dim. The seats are also wood but covered with soft cushions for lounging and restful naps.

There’s a slightly simpler look to this sitting room. Relaxed.

Before you’d taken your break from being Queen, you hadn’t spent much time in this part of the palace. Nothing had called to you. The garden had been the only spot you’d sought out but this sitting room is quickly becoming your favorite.

“I like it in here,” you confess, smiling at Thor who’s still squeezing your foot gently.

He smiles and meets your gaze, “Why’s that?”

“Because Jane was never in here,” Loki supplies, swiping left on his tablet then turns it to face both of you. “We’ve got more energy signatures. New ones.”

You and Thor sit up a little straighter.

“What quadrant?”

Loki purses his lips and then turns the tablet back towards himself cutting off your look at a map of the night sky.

“All of them. Whatever it is, it’s jumping around. I think perhaps they know we’re watching.”

Swallowing hard, you scoot closer to Thor, pulling one of your legs down as you twist to face Loki a little better. Thor takes hold of your thigh instead as it rests over his and wraps his other arm around your waist, eager to have you close.

Both of you haven’t stopped touching each other since your return last night.

“What does that mean? If they’re trying to confuse us, then they’re headed for us, right?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one, cherub,” Thor’s reassurance comes softly, his smile confident but soft. “Whatever this is, we’ll be ready for it. Have you sent the data to the others?”

“Sif is coming in for a debrief and we’ll send her to relay the specifics in person. It will need some explanation and Fandral will probably only skim the information if we send it to him via email.”

“We must have all of our troops trained for whatever attack is to come. I’m not going to let someone jeopardize our place here on Earth. We will protect our people but we will show the humans that we will defend them too from any threats to come,” Thor declares, his voice deep and determined, even angry.

He doesn’t like someone threatening his new home. Not after what happened to Asgard. The stress is in his eyes and you lean against him which you’re glad does what you want.

It distracts him.

“I had Stark build you a safe room. He called it a panic room, I think? So, should something happen, you’re to go in there and lock yourself in while we deal with any threat.”

You nod but push yourself back again to rest against the arm of the sofa while stretching out your legs again. It feels good and you sigh heavily as you rub your belly. Sitting scrunched up like that had been annoying.

“I have been training though. Even pregnant. At home, Loki would spar with me and help me with my technique. The short swords aren’t heavy anymore.”

Thor looks at his brother who sits smiling proudly at you before he notices the edge in Thor’s electric blue eye.

“It was all done safely. She and the baby were never in danger. I thought it was foolish to have her out there without her swords and the training to go along with them. Just because she left didn’t mean that she could slack off. Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that she needs to know. Even carrying your child, it’s important for her to know. One might even say especially because she's carrying the heir."

Loki’s voice grows steadily more subdued. Sad. Like a bad memory is playing itself over in his mind.

“I was too late, Loki,” Thor interjects, drawing your gaze to him too. He also looks sad. “And if you hadn’t been in that cell you’d have been long gone. Neither of us could have saved her. And you’re right. I know how important it is.”

Thor looks at you and takes your feet back in his hands, “I’m glad you trained. Once our child is born you’ll have to show me those skills of yours.”

Despite the playful nature of his taunt, you can see that he and Loki are both still in the depths of their grief. They must be thinking of their mother.

"So, these energy signatures, you still have no idea who could be causing them?"

The question is pointless. You know they don't know but it's something to say when all you can do is worry silently.

“I have theories,” Loki admits, exchanging a careful look with Thor. “But nothing concrete. Nothing that would put you at ease.”

“I don’t need to be put at ease, Loki. I need to know if there’s something to worry about. This doesn’t just affect our family but our people. If we need to warn them, we can’t be hesitant. Earth deserves a heads up, too.”

This is your job right? The voice of both your new Asgardian family and the people of Earth? This is why you were required to marry Thor.

Thor’s hand increases in strength around your foot as he tries to calm you.

“You’re right, cherub. Loki only means that there is no evidence to prove his theories so until we can find something to link these strange power surges to what he thinks it might be, then we should play this safe and hold off on raising any alarms. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Mm,” Loki agrees, nodding.

You frown, pulling your leg off of Thor’s lap to sit down properly and face both brothers. They sit up a little straighter in response to your own rigid back, your hands on your lap.

This isn’t right, whatever they might think.

“No,” you shake your head and watch as Loki puts his tablet down.

Thor scoots forward, reaching over to take your hand. You let him because he’s not trying to comfort you anymore. Instead, this reach is one of support and when you look at his singular eye, the patch on his empty socket gleaming softly in the dim light of the room, you can see he’s intent on listening and understanding.

If Jane has made any positive impact on you and Thor, it’s this. He’s really listening to you.

“Thor, you and the Asgardians are a unique people. You’ve all had it hard and I’m not trying to say that your struggles haven’t been difficult, but by nature, just by the very way that you all are made and born, you are stronger. It’s in your body’s makeup.

“For someone like me, if I were to jump from that open window, I would die. If you or any of the other Asgardians jumped from that window, you’d probably ache for a while, maybe a few would even get a few broken bones or cuts but they’d be superficial wounds.

“You know from experience how fragile humans are. Both of you,” the look you give Loki pulls his gaze down to his feet. “We’re unprepared for anything other than each other. We need more of a warning than you. We need time to prepare.”

It all falls into place in your head and with confidence you turn to look at Thor, turning your hand over to take his in your own hand.

With a quick squeeze, you scoot just a little closer to him, “Thor, I need to speak to the ambassadors. We need to schedule an official meeting to give them the rundown on what we’ve been doing here and what we’re keeping an eye on. Because, knowing Tony, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything to anyone outside of the compound?”

Loki sits back, crossing his legs as he shuts his tablet off, “No. Stark is as preoccupied about raising the alarm as we are. But now that you mention it, I suppose both we and he are not looking at this from a regular civilian of Earth’s point of view.”

“Y/N,” Thor calls your attention back to him, “This could backfire. We could be doing more harm than good by sharing with them the information we’ve gathered.”

You shake your head, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. The last thing I want to do is cause a panic. But I don't think that’ll happen. It’s not like we’re going to leak it onto the internet. We’re going to meet with the ambassadors and provide this information to world leaders so that they can prepare the way they see fit. Trust me, these prime ministers and presidents and kings aren’t going to just announce to their people that some alien threat is on the way. They don’t want to look out of control or unprepared.

“We need to give Earth’s humans a chance to defend themselves. Even if they end up needing our help, they deserve to know.”

Loki and Thor are silent for what feels to you like a long time. In reality, you know it must only be seconds. However, this is the first time you’ve pushed back with them. This is the first time you’re speaking on behalf of the human race.

It makes you nervous and anxious. Will they let you be Queen in this sense? Or is it all just show?

They look at each other, staring and communicating silently before Loki gets to his feet and turns his tablet back on.

“Well, if I’m to set up a meeting with the ambassadors, NATO, and the UN I should probably get started.”

Your heart explodes with pride. They’re letting you really rule! You’re making a difference. True change. Your excitement mingles with a sudden terror as you realize that your choices are going to affect what will be millions if not billions of people.

Luckily, Loki’s words also serve to distract you from your trepidation.

“Wait, Loki,” you hurry to your feet and scurry to his side before ripping the tablet from his hands and hiding it behind your back.

“Hey,” he protests, reaching around you to try and grab it.

You hurry back to Thor and instead of sitting beside him you plop yourself onto his lap and sit as close as you can to trap the tablet between your bodies.

You can hear Thor’s heart begin to pound. Aside from those kisses yesterday, this is the closest you’ve put yourself to him since you got back. He’d slept with you in your shared bedroom, but he’d laid facing you and you him, a good six inches between your bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, placing his hands along the swell of your tummy. You can almost feel him glowing with happiness.

“As eager as I am to give Earth a heads up, I also think you need a break. The energy isn’t going anywhere and the Warriors Three and Sif are on the watch. Please do me a big favor and just take a day or two? You’ve been at it like crazy since I left the palace and it would make me so happy if my baby’s Uncle Loki would take a breather. He’s gotta be strong and in tip-top shape if he’s going to keep up with his future nephew.”

“Or niece,” Thor interjects. “She’s right, Loki. Rest. We’ll get back on this in two days and you can set everything up then. The city is roaring with celebration. Go out and enjoy it. You always loved a good party.”

Loki glares at the pair of you, “Using the future prince or princess is blackmail. And if I’m out there, what will you two do?”

Thor smiles at him, reaching between your bodies to grab the tablet from where it’s hidden. He sets it aside and his other hand trails over your side before wrapping around your waist to cup your bump again.

“I’m sure my queen and I will find something to keep us occupied. Making up for lost time, perhaps?”

Your neck burns but you grin up at Loki who fixes you with a knowing smile, “Of course. How silly of me. Well, let me not keep you from reacquainting yourselves with each other. If you have need of me, I will be around. Just call.”

“Have fun, Loki,” you call after him.

As he shuts the door, Thor tilts your head to the side, pulling you back against his chest fully so that he can kiss you without prompting.

“Sleeping beside you once more was dreamlike, cherub,” Thor tells you, low and full of want.

“And what would make it more real for you?”

“Shall I show you?”

And he waits, like the jerk that he is. He literally just dangles the carrot in front of you. His hard body pressed against your back, the heat of his legs seeping through your clothes to your skin.

His hands trace tantalizing circles around your stomach but make the slightest tickles to the fold of your pelvis. You hate him!

“Oh my god, hurry up, dummy.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. In an instant you’re in his arms as he settles you on the sofa, his hands already yanking and pulling at your clothes but when your tummy is exposed, he drops to his knees and worships your pregnant body with gentility and softness.

At least until you growl and yank him up to finish what he’s started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets against your skin feel soft as silk. They’re slightly sticky but that’s more to do with your own body’s sweat.

“Why are you up?” Thor’s voice is heavy with sleep.

It’s thick and rough. It makes you smile and your ears burn because he sounds delicious and you missed mornings like this.

“I’m hungry,” you admit.

Thor tumbles from the bed, dragging with him the heavier faux fur blanket that sits at the foot of your bed for decoration usually. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the cord by the door.

“I already called them, puppy,” you assure him, and he smiles sleepily at you before moving towards you.

“I missed my term of endearment. Why a dog?”

As he reaches you, you open your sheet and his eyes roam the length of your naked body before he gets all handsy and dives into the sheet with you, eventually settling his hands on your bum. No groping, just resting. Then slowly he trails his fingers up along the sides of your back up to your shoulders and back down.

It leaves your skin full of goosebumps and you shiver. He misinterprets it and instead of stopping his stroking, he uses his flat hand to create friction instead.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy. They’re cute and they’re kinda, I don’t know, like...clueless?” You laugh because that’s not the word you were looking for but it’s what comes out.

“Uh, excuse me, I have plenty of clues,” Thor argues, but he doesn’t seem offended.

“That’s not the right word,” you laugh again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just want to squeeze you and cuddle you because you’re like this big blonde golden retriever only sexier.”

Thor makes his thinking face as he tries to pull up the picture of the dog breed you just compared him to, and he nods slowly.

“I think I can live with that,” Thor smiles down at you then leans to meet your lips.

You kiss him eagerly, your bodies both humming with anticipation even though you spent the last two days--practically--in bed.

Both of you know that there’s a time when this lust might not necessarily fade but dull a bit? Then again, it is Thor and he’s ravenous for you almost all the time.

You chuckle against his lips and he pulls back to look at you.

“What has you laughing so adorably?”

You let go of the sheet and before it can fall, Thor replaces your hands with his own to hold it up around you both. With free hands you’re able to trace the length of his arms, tracing the large curves. His skin is so damn soft.

You’re still not sure if that’s a Thor thing or an Asgardian God thing? What you know is that you love it and your fingers eat it up every time you touch him.

Whatever laugh or trace of humor you had falls away as you start to really look within yourself and examine why you’re so happy.

You shove your arms underneath his and wrap your arms around him, small whisper slaps of his skin as your hands are splayed out along his wide back. You press your ear against his chest. The thud of his heart is strong and slightly speedy, probably in response to your sudden shift in mood.

The swell between both of you, the little life kicking in response to your mood pulls both your attention for a few seconds before you find your voice.

“I missed you, Thor. More than I thought I would. Way more than I ever knew I could.”

The somber tone of your voice has him giving you a nice gentle squeeze. He likes having you right there right up against him just as much as you like being there.

“Well, you were very angry with me,” Thor reminds you. “I didn’t know your face could make those expressions. That day at your home?”

You hug him tighter, staring out at the small bloom of sunrise in the distance. It’s very slightly starting to glisten on the still ocean line.

“I was angry. But it was more than that.”

“I know,” Thor kisses the top of your head. “I hurt you. What I said, I-I didn’t mean it, cherub. I promise you. It was a temporary insanity. The moment you came into that room after I said what I did, I knew that I could never go through with it. And if you’d told me that we were expecting a child-”

“I couldn’t,” you sigh, leaning back to look up at him. “In my head, if I told you then after what you'd said that I was pregnant and you chose to stay with me, I would live the rest of my life wondering whether you chose me because you really loved me or because I was finally going to give New Asgard their heir.”

Thor’s face crumbles a little, brow scrunched, mouth pulled down at the corners as he shakes his head.

“I will always choose you. Not because you are the mother of my children, but because you are the love of my life. The one I did not expect. The one that I can never chance to lose again. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt me.”

Staring into his eye, the intensity of his gaze, you know that he means what he says. He loves you.

Even though you can’t admit it to him because your reconciliation needs all of the positivity that you can both muster, in your heart, you can’t help but wonder if you can truly trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The days go by like routine after the Asgardians find that they have to go back to their jobs and lives.

As much as they all love a good party, Thor and Loki included if the last two days are any indication, they know they can't keep going and must get back to life as usual.

Thor at first makes an attempt to stay with you. The last few months of being without each other makes it difficult to be apart and for Thor especially, with the baby.

He hates leaving you. He wants to be there for every kick and every shift.

His largest grievance is that he can't listen to your laugh when the baby kicks and it feels weird. This you only find out because Loki, in his annoyance with the constant trips Thor makes him do to check on you when he's in his meetings.

Although you believe Loki, you take all of these little indicators of Thor’s love with ease but with the knowledge that it might very well be fleeting.

You try not to think about it and instead just allow yourself to enjoy the fact that Thor does indeed love you and you love him too. Even if it may not be forever. Even if it can change. Even if the future is now a little less certain.

Your meeting with the ambassadors approaches quickly. It takes a month to set it up. Longer than you'd thought and it doesn't take long to understand why.

"This is the third time they've pushed the meeting back," you gripe, moving over to Loki’s computer to look over his shoulder at the surprisingly very short email.

Please inform Her Majesty, the Queen of Asgard, that we are unable to meet with her as previously scheduled this week and will be in contact as to the next available day.

Should any true trouble arise, please tell Thor that we are more than happy to meet with him.

Sincerely,

Earth AMB Mark Coates

You're seething. You've never been this angry. Never this absolutely heated. Not even with Thor and what happened with Jane can compare to the absolute rage flowing through your veins.

"They don't seem to take you seriously," Loki realizes. "Because you're a woman?"

"Partially, probably," you growl as you move back around his desk to sit in the padded armchair by the window where you'd been watching Thor visit with the Valkyrie.

He's not there anymore though and you can see Hilde and her girls relaxing a little. Adjusting their armor, laughing, sitting and talking. Now that their inspection is over they can breathe.

Why they get so nervous you don't understand. Thor’s such a fanboy. He gushes about them constantly.

"What other reason might there be?" Loki asks, rising and moving around his desk to lean against it casually, hands shoved into the inky black pockets of his slacks.

His jade vest is unbuttoned and the sleeves of his dark gray button-up folded up to his elbow.

Summer is almost here and it's getting hotter.

You don't answer right away. Hands slowly stroking your belly, trying to calm down for the baby's sake. Feeling that upset can't be good for him.

You take a long deep inhale and with a heavy sigh release the stress.

"My Queen?" Loki urges, and you smile.

Realizing he's calling you by your title to reaffirm your place among them to make you feel better, you turn your smile on him.

"You've always been my biggest supporter. You and David," your smile falters. "I miss him."

"Is he still in Baghdad?"

"Yeah. He’s in deep so, no contact. I hope he's okay."

"You know, you do have a part time Avenger as a husband and the best magician for a brother-in-law. One word and we'd be happy to assist with your lawyer's extraction."

"Which is why I don't ask. If he needs help, David will let us know. He has his panic button."

The gift had been given to you by Tony who had made it for you to press when you and Thor had been estranged. An easy way to call for Thor if something should happen.

Your brother-in-law nods.

"I suppose it would be a little like nepotism. Fine. What should I do about the misogynistic email?" Loki wonders.

"He's not exactly a misogynist. Not completely anyway. The ambassador blowing me off has more to do with me specifically than it does with me being a woman."

This seems to set Loki off more than if the ambassador was doing this because you're a woman.

"What right does he have to snub the Queen of Asgard? Doesn't he know what that might do to relations between Earth and our people?"

You shake your head, smiling because his anger makes you feel better.

"No, he doesn't. Because to the world my marriage to Thor is show. It's a necessary political move. They don't care whether Thor and I love each other and Jane and Thor’s relationship was so publicized that it’s hard for them to accept that Thor might actually love me.

"Thor went to extreme lengths to protect Jane in the past. Public displays of affection like that aren't forgotten easily.

"To the ambassadors and probably most of the world, offending me doesn't mean an offense against Thor. To them, I'm a queen in name only. No real power here."

Loki huffs through his nose, standing straight with his hands at his waist before he turns to walk back behind his desk.

He stops for a moment, thinking hard you guess, then whips around and stomps towards you before shoving his finger towards the windows.

"I know it has been a while for me, but I can very easily open another tear in space over New York. Or wherever you need me to. I might need a bit of time to locate the power and forces to do it but I will show the people.of Earth what happens when they underestimate the love of the Asgardian people for their queen."

Leaning back in your chair, you keep your arms around your bump as you watch Loki make his threat.

"That's a bit much for a dude who just thinks that my political marriage is just that, isn't it?"

You keep your face clear of amusement, because it really is very sweet of him to be so upset for you. But you can't help the small smile that stretches your lips.

He deflates, moving to other armchair across from yours and sits but leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's shameless disrespect, Y/N. We cannot let them get away with it. You are Asgardian now. A slight against you is a slight against this Kingdom."

"I know, Loki. But-"

Behind Loki his office door opens. It faintly creeks and through it pokes Thor’s searching gaze.

He looks confused as he scans the room until he spots the two of you and with a little skip in his step and a wide unfettered smile, he shuts the door and moves towards you.

"Hi," you smile at him widely in reaction to the loveable look on his face.

"Hello," Thor replies, his voice low and quiet as he leans down towards you.

"You finished early today," you observe, voice just as quiet.

"You know I hate being apart," Thor whispers and presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is so soft and slow.

He pulls away too quickly and as your heart stutters, you reach up to hook your hands into the sides of his chest plate and pull him back down for another kiss.

He'd worn his full uniform today for an early meeting and the inspection of the Valkyrie. He looks so good but with his hair growing in, now just past his shoulders.

He still has the two small braids you'd worked in on the left side of his head and he looks so good, you might jump him later. If you don't pass out for an afternoon nap.

He pulls away again, this time smiling brightly.

"Will I always get this welcome if I come home early? I might have to shorten my days."

You chuckle as he moves around you and stops by a side table where Loki keeps a few weapons on display on a stand. He starts to remove his harder pieces of armor and places them aside.

"What has you looking so stern, brother?" Thor asks, keeping his back to you both as he moves onto the leather pieces that keep his chain mail from shifting.

Loki sits back, sighing heavily as he considers how much to tell Thor.

"Something I should worry about? Come. Tell me and lessen your burden."

"He's upset for me. That's all."

You hear the clink of Thor's mail as it falls on the table then he's moving around your right to squat by your chair so that he's below your eye level.

"Upset for you? Why?" His look of concern is upsetting and pleasing at the same time.

You purse your lips and look at Loki.

"It might be easier if I showed you," he says then rises and moves to his desk to get his tablet.

Thor reaches out to place his hand on your belly and you place yours over his.

He smiles at you then leans down to kiss your tummy while you run your fingers through his hair and try to ignore the utterly breathtaking and heartaching butterflies that his sweet love on your baby gives you.

"I missed you," he whispers to you.

Again, your heart stutters. He’s so easy with his words. These declarations feel so good but that little voice in the back of your head also makes your heart ache.

You just smile at him. Unable to speak when you feel like you're glowing and grieving at the same time.

"Here," Loki holds out the tablet and Thor stands then takes it.

He moves to the loveseat across from your and Loki's armchairs and plops down before reading.

You watch him, admiring the out of armor look. His black leather pants are just as hugging as they always are. His top, a dark gray long sleeve made with breathable fabric leaves no room to wonder just how defined his muscles are.

He's Asgardian perfection.

He breathes in deeply then exhales loudly, a passing shadow of rage overcoming his Godly features before he tosses the tablet at Loki lightly who catches it easily.

Thor spreads his legs a little, tapping his heels as he throws his left arm along the back of the small sofa, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"Write the bastard and tell him I'm requesting the meeting then. Then my cherub and I will both be waiting to give him both the information he needs to warn Earth and a piece of my mind."

You look down at your feet, heart pounding and stomach tumbling with nerves.

You don't want to be the reason any rifts come between New Asgard and Earth. The whole purpose of the position you hold is to protect the citizens of this city.

"Thor," you warn, turning to meet his gaze only when you know you can handle it.

"He wants me to contact him, so I will. In fact, send a raven instead. Do the works. Scroll. Seal. And when they arrive, give them a royal welcome with trumpets and a guard."

"Thor…"

"They will not disrespect you and find warm welcomes in my home. You are my wife. My Queen! Even if all they assume is between us is political agreement, they should respect the title you hold. We may not be above them, but we do outrank them an they need to know that you are not to be messed with.

"The fact that I love you only makes my resolve stronger."

"Okay. I get it, puppy. And I'm grateful to both you and Loki for standing up for me. With your tempers, no one would believe you aren't blood related. Sheesh."

You gran hold of the arms of your chair and groan only a little as you push yourself up onto your feet.

"Oof," you reach back and place your hand on your waist.

Thor’s arm immediately extends out towards you. Beckoning you to his side.

It takes you a moment but you get your footing back and move for him. As soon as you're within reach his arm is around you, helping you sit down carefully.

He doesn't let you sit back all the way. He pushes you to your left so that you'll shift and sit angled while he sits up straighter and turns to face you.

With gentle but firm hands he starts to work out the kinks and knots in your back.

Unintentionally you moan with relief. Thor’s eyes are on Loki though.

"What was your idea?"

"I offered to open another tear in space above whatever city she deemed proper. With the allowance of time to find both the power to do so and the army to lead through it."

You can't see Thor expression but when he speaks, his disapproving sounds fake.

"I'm not sure even idly that threat is in good taste. But I understand the sentiment."

"Do you really want me to make all of that fuss to make the ambassador come and meet with you?"

"Yes. I think he needs to be humbled. He may be in a position of power and my Y/N may owe her marriage to their insistence and meddling, but she is Queen and they are speakers for Earth. They would not have jobs had we not come to live here. Their disrespect of our Queen is a slight on our people.

"The moment I took Y/N under my banner is the moment she became Asgardian from the tips of her cute toes to the top of her irresistible head. And with our child on the way, they should know better."

Loki gets to his feet and moves towards the door, "Very well. One royal invitation coming right up."

As he leaves, Thor’s focus is diverted completely to you.

"Does that feel good, love?"

You only moan in return.

Thor chuckles and keeps going for a few minutes longer before you push back towards him and he lets you rest your back against his chest.

You can't be scrunched forward too long before your stomach begins to feel squished.

You look straight up at his face and he smiles.

"Hi," you tell him.

"Hello."

You smile.

"Was the massage satisfactory?"

"Mmmm, it was great. Your hands are godly, puppy."

Thor chuckles at the pun but leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"And you, my sweet cherub, are a Goddess. And I will make sure you are treated as such."

[bluecookies02]

Dabi x Reader- I Run To You /nsfw/

warnings: praise/degradation, sex oriented quirk?(meaning succubus-ish!Reader), choking, overstimulation, squirting, pinning/slightly obsessed reader.

The reader becomes a villain-->brief mentions of blood, mentions of Touya's "death".

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Maybe you're supposed to feel some sort of remorse when you see your childhood friend on the screen, blue flames hugging every corner of the building he's in, the poor glass shattering and melting as the reporters hurriedly fly around to catch every evidence and information they can.

You couldn't see much of his face, but the way he carried himself and the exact patterns of his scarred arm were enough for her. You only needed one glance.

It took a few months for you to wrap your head around it. Trying to push down the anger and grief by finding excuses for whatever he's doing. You became obsessed though, super fixated on every last trail of him you can find.

Years went by fast. Gaining the trust of other villains was fairly easy when you share the same hatred for the heroes. It brings you a sense of belonging and they listen. They listen and feel your anger, understand loss better than anyone else you tried to talk to before. You don't receive stupid condolences and bullshit like "it gets better" or "that's what faith had in store for you". You get raw emotion, telling you exactly what you yearned to hear, finally knowing that you're not crazy and that there are people who have enough braincells to see through the terrible facades the society has been smearing over everybody's eyes.

It's hard at first, watching blood and flesh rip through the air you breathe as your shoes leave red trails that follow your step...until they don't...they get mixed and lost and the footprints you once knew were yours look foreign, you don't know where you came from, you just know where you're headed.

You come back to your small apartment almost every night, writing down and scribbling each piece of information before it has the chance to be forgotten, intent on not letting a single detail slip.

You find it bizarre. You wanted to be a hero. For as long as your memory goes, you admired and glorified the kind and selfless faces you saw on TV, and in your own house.

He wanted to be a hero too? Even more than you. You're close, just a handful of months and you'd earn yourself a place. You know it.

Would he remember you?

Your pen breaks under the pressure of your palm, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You stack the notebooks neatly, locking your door before plopping on your pillow.

All of this for a boy...how silly of you...Would he be happy to have someone familiar next to him?

You feel lonely...You miss the comfort of the past and you wonder if he does too. Did he even like you back then? You dig for every memory of him smiling at you, gracing your hand while the two of you played the games on his computer.

Then your eyes wander to the pictures on your wall, collages of newspapers with his face on it. He aged like fine wine. Strong and handsome. His hands are something you can't look away from, his long fingers keeping you in a trance while you snuggle under your blanket, slipping your hand in your shorts. Just this time.

You bend your legs at your knees, head craned to look at the pictures on your walls, mouth loosely open. You take your time working your clit, imagining how he would do it. How he would take his time exploring you after not seeing you for so long.

Your ass bucks off the bed a little, humping against your fingers, almost dipping into your greedy pussy, ghosting over the slicked up hole and spreading the nice coat of the slimy wetness across your folds.

Would he be good at eating you out? Stretching his scarred jaw to fit his mouth over your cunt and lap at it, sticking his tongue out as far as it can go.

You stretch your shorts to fit your hand in, pressing two fingers on each side of the sensitive nub, using your other hand to flick at the exposed pearl. It almost burns from the pressure, too sensitive when it's not hidden under the thin layer.

What if he had his tongue pierced? Imagining the metal on you, swirling over every inch, digging into you as it bumps your clit. You can't make yourself wait anymore, pulling your shorts down and pressing your knees to your tummy. Like he's there in the room, giving him a perfect view of your dripping hole, untouched and clenching around nothing as you trail your finger across it.

You slip two of them in, too horny to drag it out anymore, you start pumping them in and out of your pussy, convulsing and shivering each time you hit that spot while you arch off the bed. Your other hand works your clit, chasing the trashing of your hips while your drenched cunt pools around your fingers, the sound making you high. It's wet and erotic, your palm slamming against your other hand, the rhythm on your clit rushed and messy, interrupting the pace you need.

You imagine his skilled fingers on you again, precisely circling your swollen nub as he stuffs you with his cock, his hot breath on your neck while his dyed hair tickles your face, wet kisses adoring your skin as he's about to stuff you full of his cum, press your legs to your stomach until they feel like they're gonna break. He'd try to go deeper than possible, holding your neck so that he can kiss you properly as your bodies rock the bed.

He'd cum first, seconds before you just to make sure that you milk every last drop as you cum and pulse around his shaft, your pussy gripping and sucking him in while he still balls deep inside you, groaning into your mouth.

The sensation of him shaking against you sends you over the edge, your breath being knocked out of you as your thighs flex and clench together, squeezing your hands and trapping them in place.

You're gasping for breath, eyes closing and ears buzzing from your high, light thrust against your clit coming to a stop as you slowly calm down.

Bliss washes over you as you lay there for a bit, chest rising and falling, your body completely relaxed.

You hope it'll all turn out to be worth it and joining the League would just be another step from many to go. Yet you still hope that your feelings were mutual back then. You experience loss too early in your teen years and a lot has changed since. But one thing was constant, you never stop loving someone even after they're gone, and Touya is the biggest proof of that.

You still had his books, pens, shirts and all of the notes the two of you passed around during dinners or classes...and you held onto them long before you found out he was still somewhere out there.

He was stoic and cold most of the time, his affections looked calculated, keeping you on the line throughout the whole friendship, not letting the two of you slip into a relationship. Pausing his flirting as soon as you seemed to get your hopes up.

If not a relationship, you want closure, and you want him, in any form you can have him.

_______________

Slowly you wake up to a pattern of knocks on your bedside table, not having the time to panic or get scared as you're slipping away from your dreams.

When you finally do see a tall white-haired man next to your bed, you raise your hands up in defense, heart skipping beats and toes curling as you back away to the headboard.

"Quiet a stalker aren't you?" Red eyes pierce through you, your quirk activating for a split second until he grabs a hold of your ankle with four fingers.

"You know what the fifth one does...so behave nicely, I'm not here to kill you" You look around the room, avoiding the uncomfortable gaze of the leader.

The shame of your interior upsetting you more than the initial fear of getting murdered.

"How did you get in?" Your locks are too good to be broken down, your alarm system expensive(but stolen) and working perfectly.

A purple portal flashes in the middle of the room. Well not so perfectly, you figure.

"I won't snitch on your obsession cause I couldn't care less, I want you in the League. Pack your shit or run." Your eyes are wide open, watching as the man slips into a portal and disappears, the purple mist still glowing in front of you.

You hurriedly grab a small suitcase, stuffing everything you know is important, already having some luggage packed in case you had to move fast for whatever reason. It comes in handy being organized.

You hide the newspapers you took off your walls, slipping them between your clothes and zipping the suitcase. First impression matters, so you risk wasting a bit of time to pick out an outfit, making yourself look presentable before you slip into a mellow cloud, dragging your stuff with you.

Your heart is pounding, blood rushing to the tips of your ears and the pads of your fingers, pulsing and warming you up.

The leader greets you again, grinning as he leads you to a room, telling you to make yourself at home.

"I wanted to give you a roommate, but that would be distracting" he teases, his teeth still showing as he closes the door behind you. The room is warm and surprisingly not messy at all. Yes, some things are carelessly tossed on the bed or draped over the chair but everything else is neat. You figure out fairly quickly that it was probably occasionally used.

You take your time to explore the room, piling up the stuff that wasn't yours in one corner of it. You unpack one of your suitcases and half of the other, cursing yourself for bringing the evidence of your little plan.

You don't know why you brought it, it seemed useless after you found out where you're going, but you guess it's for sentimental reasons. You didn't plan for it to happen so fast. But they were indeed a bit low on numbers after recent attacks so they must've gotten impatient and started seeking out more people.

You did do everything in your power to get noticed so you do want to take some credit. You smoothen out the sheets before you sit on the bed, thighs rubbing together from nervousness.

Is he on a mission?

How can you play it cool?

What's his favorite food now?

What are his interests?

Does anything make him particularly happy...maybe a hobby?

Should you try using your quirk to lure him in?

Does he know you exist?

Will he recognize you?

Would he remember you even after you tell him?

Maybe you shouldn't tell him.

You stop before you get too deep in your thoughts, deciding that you should make yourself comfortable. It's very likely that he's not there anyways, and he might not even show up soon, sitting there all alone is just making you more anxious.

You decide to leave the room, curious to meet other members that you heard in the hallways a few minutes ago. They were all headed to the same place, so you decided to go to what you figured was the living room.

The smell of alcohol got stronger, and the small giggles and banter got louder. You fixed your clothes one last time before opening the door, seeing the all too familiar faces in the room.

A blonde-haired girl ran to you, almost tumbling them both to the floor as she giggled excitedly.

"I was dying for more girls in this dump, they all stink" she whined, sniffing your shirt. She was grabbed by the collar by the boss, his pinkie up as the girl huffed.

_________________

So that's exactly how you met everyone, sitting on the bar as you silently wished the last member showed any desire in greeting you. He was sprawled out on the sofa in the far end of the room, a beer in hand and a cigarette in his mouth. You've never seen someone so unapproachable before, and it had to be him of all people.

Yet you didn't take it to heart. He was always like this...well minus the alcohol. New people didn't phase him, even more, he hated new. You're not worthy of his time until he deems you as so and you figure he never met "you" before.

But you do glance at him. The whole fucking night, chatting with others but always slipping and almost getting caught. They pointed it out but you just brushed it off as being curious to why he doesn't look like he's enjoying himself.

Even tho, you can practically feel his gaze on your back each time you turn away, feeling flustered you sip on your drink through the night, blushing when you catch him averting his gaze.

He is intrigued, to say the least. The way you move and talk is intoxicating, your voice feeling like something he had forgotten a long time ago. It reminds him of his past and it makes him fairly angry...but it brings some form of comfort he didn't feel in a while. He'll be selfish enough to indulge himself.

And he does. Months. Seeping into years.

________________

Missions are exhausting, so far you've been on more than you could bring yourself to count. On the run for weeks with little to no rest wasn't the luxurious lifestyle younger you dreamed about.

The comfort of the not so soft bed never felt more heavenly than now. A cheap motel wasn't your form of rest either, but you had to deal, hopping in for a not so relaxing shower with water that jumped from freezing to burning hot every second, tho it did an amazing job on easing the coil in your stomach.

Your quirk is taking a toll on you, control over it fading away as soon as you are laying clean and fresh on the bed. Too much...You were working too much and just teasing the victims never seemed to satiate your quirks' hunger. You second guess your path a lot, especially when you end up alone and exhausted, but you never think about quitting...as weird as that feels. It has its perks you guess...

Him being your partner wasn't one of them. He's practically eating you up, showing off in front of you but ignoring you all the same. You feel like crying from frustration, huffing to yourself before digging into your backpack and grabbing your small toy. It's been a few weeks since you could indulge yourself, the tension of your muscles painful.

Tears are almost freely rolling down your cheeks, your quirk making you feel dizzy as you slip the toy against your clit.

His voice is rough and quiet in your head, the conversations you had playing on repeat, searching for anything that you might've missed.

Every time you thought of one, it was followed by a memory of him pushing you away, smirking before going to do his own thing. He always had a smart mouth, flirting with you but making sure to step right off when he feels like he's dancing on that line.

You bit back equally though, returning the snarky comments and putting up a tough facade all while you tried to cling onto every thread of hope he threw your way.

He was almost sure he heard you though, his real name followed by a muffled cough as you tried your hardest to drown it with small talk. A moment of pure joy after you both made it out alive and safe made you let your guard down.

And when he called off the rest of the mission for the day out of nowhere, you were almost sure too.

But he isn't here now. He didn't follow you, and you're certainly all alone in this empty room. He'll come around...or he'll leave in the middle of the night. You wouldn't be able to blame him for either.

He's in the room right next to you, his fist wrapped tightly around his cock and his eyes squinted shut. He knows exactly who you remind him of, knows exactly what he felt as soon as you joined. You were always similar to her.

Awfully similar.

He knows.

It doesn't feel fair. Not to you or him. But he can't think. He can't focus and he can't stop himself from moaning out your name as his cock slicks up with pre-cum, his other going to his balls and squeezing them lightly.

He feels drunk, even though he didn't drink...well more than the usual amount... his body is burning like it's on fire...which isn't a foreign feeling to him. But it's different, the blood in his veins is warm, surging to the tips of his hands and toes as he fucks into his own fist. He's almost in a haze, fighting the urge to get up and slam your door open. If he runs away now, you'll be safer, maybe quit the League if he's lucky.

But he can't win, messily pulling his pants up and slipping on his shoes, grabbing your door handle in less than a blink as he tries to go back one last time. He has a primal need that pulls him towards you, even when he's not in the same room, it urges him to reach out and chase you, grip on the last straw of sanity and happiness that happens to be you.

Your toy buzzes faintly, sweat gracing your body while you so desperately try to cum. You're too sad and it doesn't help in reaching your high at all, but if you don't do it you feel like you might explode. He knows and he doesn't want you. You wasted your life away. You deserve it for being a creep.

He opens the door cautiously, feeling his cock pulse against the loose buckle. The lamp highlights your tear-stained cheeks and it's criminally hot, illegal even, making his toes curl.

You notice him immediately, dropping the toy on the mattress and using the sheet to cover as best as you can.

"I can't believe you" he whispers.

"Please..." you whine, drinking in the sight of him, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. To leave or to stay...any of the two.You know desire when you see it, praying that he came to quench it.

You're so desperate, craving him, letting go of your quirk and sending hormones to clash and bite against his skin.

You'll lie if you have to, say how you couldn't control it for a second more.

Nothing matters now when he's crawling up your naked body like a starved man, ripping the sheets away, digging his nails into your sides as he ravages your skin like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

And it probably is, the soft nibbles turning rough and hungry as you struggle to hold one, tangling your hands in his hair. You try to pull on it, yearning to kiss him and pour everything you feel against his lips, even if you're just a fuck, you need him to know that you never forgot him.

He doesn't budge, instead, he makes quick work of his pants, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

The room is too warm for you, the air too thick to breathe. You don't know if you want to stop and talk first....maybe you'll have the chance later?

"This is your fault" he huffs, slipping one hand to his boxers to ease the tension, gripping his cock tightly. He'll have to rush it, groaning when your legs subconsciously twitch and spread to let him fit in between.

"I feel like a fucking teenager" he argues, cupping your pussy and hunching over you.

He's missing a few steps, but seeing you so desperate and aching to cum urges him to help you out first.

"Since when did you start luring me in with your stupid quirk huh? Part of your little plan?" he questions, not letting you answer.

You're shaking your head, trying to mumble how you never tricked him into wanting you, not until this exact moment. But words are not your friend right now.

His eyes pierce through yours, beautiful blue swallowed up by the black of his pupils, half-lidded stare stripping you naked. Bare and vulnerable as your back arches, ghosting his fingers over the right spots and making you moan out a soft "Dabi".

It doesn't sound right on your tongue, and he sees the way it rolls off your lips, strained and dishonest.

His large hand wraps around your throat, holding you in place as he works the small bud, lowering his lips dangerously close, whispering across yours.

"Don't close your eyes." he demands.

It's in his arms reach, and everything is so close to making sense. If you look at him, he might start feeling like himself again. One of his fingers slowly dips inside your warmth, dragging the pad of it gently while he presses his thumb against your clit.

Your soft lips fit on his, your hands pulling him in by the back of his neck. He wants to make it slow and romantic, a nice reunion, yet he lets you slip your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss.

He's not holding himself up anymore, his body's weight shifting onto you with each thrust of his finger, the clacking sound of your pussy urging him to move even faster, make you feel even better. He adds in another one, watching you mewl and relax.

"That's fucking right, you wanted it, you fucking planned this, you sick fuck" he muses, catching you off guard. There's something bittersweet in the fact that he'll never be able to leave every little aspect of his life behind.

Before you even try to mumble something out, his lips are slamming against yours, teeth clashing and pulling on your soft skin.

You clench around him, riding his fingers greedily and roaming your hands across his back, fisting and gripping at his shirt.

You can feel the blood on your tongue, hissing when he pulls out only to slap his palm over your clit, causing you to yelp and pull away from the kiss.

"Touya, listen-" He shakes his head, nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

"You little stalker...how much work did you do for this cock huh?" he presses against you for good measure, making you feel his hot length on your cunt.

"You have no fucking idea" you snarl, gaining some of the confidence back, wiggling from beneath him.

He kicks his shoes and boxers all the way off, getting on your bed and pulling you to him.

His shirt is thrown messily to the edge of the bed, his hands pressing on the small of your back so that you can tower over him, trapping him between your thighs as he leans against the headboard.

Your ass slides over his cock, your hips moving slowly while he trails your figure, gliding his warm fingers across your thighs and up to your breasts.

Both of his hands cup the soft mounds, eyes glued to yours as he sticks his tongue out of his mouth. Hypersensitive to every little touch, your body shivers as he takes gentle, almost there swipes across your nipple, moving his arms back to your sides while he slips the sensitive bud in his mouth.

He lowers his thumb to your clit, flicking it slowly while he nips at your tits, biting and sucking marks across the smooth skin. His cock hooks and prods at your hole each time you both sway against each other, teasing you until the knot in your belly becomes too tight, skin crawling with pleasure wherever his body meets yours. He can hear your breath hitching in your throat, grinning while he speeds up the work on your clit, patiently waiting for you to start arching into his hand. He's gonna make you feel so good...convince you that chasing after him was the best decision you made in your life. Make up for all the years you had to deal with everything on your own.

He can feel your pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, making him push up in one slow and deep motion, immediately feeling the spasms of your soft walls gripping tight around his length. You let out a shaky breath, riding out the first high that finally satiates your quirk if only for a bit, making you drop your weight on him.

"There we go...Feeling better?" the ground might swallow you up, but when his hips start to lazily buck into you, you get distracted...You didn't notice how full you are, every inch pushing and stretching perfectly. You realize his finger never really stopped, only slowed down while he built up the agonizing pace he's bouncing you on.

You know your quirk makes you needy, but it makes everyone even more so, the realization that he probably feels like 9 circles of hell causing your hips to move, meeting his thrusts more roughly.

His head moves back to the headboard, eyes glued to yours as you ride him, propping yourself on his shoulders.

He ignored the burn of his body, too intoxicated and keen on making you feel better to focus on his aching cock, getting drowned in pleasure now that he can experience everything clearly.

You're beautiful.... and he wants to break you, make you blabber his name as you cling to him like he's the only one that can make you feel good. And he's gonna make sure he is. He admires you for a moment, cheeks heating up while watches your tits bounce, your eyes averting under his stare.

Your world turns upside down, your head sinking into a soft pillow as your legs are pushed as far as they can go.

You're scared to look away now, his gaze never breaking when he starts plowing in and out of your cunt, slamming his cock all the way in with each thrust.

His feet dig into your mattress, making the cheap bed creak.

You don't know where to put your hands, switching from the sheets to your thighs.

"Dumb little whore...is this all it takes?" he moves lower to you, pressing your spit coated lips against his.

You manage to hook your arms around his neck, swinging your legs behind his back.

He's plowing too deep, his navel bumping against your clit. He can't make himself pull out at all anymore, stuck on humping inside your pussy, slamming and angling his cock until you cry out.

Panting and groaning against your lips, he manages to slip a few curses, hissing when he tries to stop himself from cumming. Your quirk is cruel.

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you still as he bottoms out completely, feeling his cock throb and spill, your walls tightening up against his shaft as hot cum paints them white.

He's high and addicted, already fucking his cum deeper, making sure it goes into every little crease and pore it can reach. You slip your fingers to your clit, trying to get yourself off while he rocks both of you.

"You wanna cum? Wanna milk my cock again huh? Want me to knock you up?" He's stammering it out, words spilling from his mouth in a rush, feeling the burning of his sensitive head as he picks up the pace again, slapping your hands away.

He raises just a bit, pressing one of his large palms on your belly.

His other hand slips to your clit instead, circling and flicking it to make you reach your high before he fills you up again.

Your whining does nothing to slow him down, his motions too rough and almost painful, your cervix bruising up when he presses even harder on your tummy, making your hips buck off the bed.

"Want you to cum...want you to make a mess..." he urges, a low rumble in his throat.

You can only nod, grabbing both of your thighs and spreading them further for him, your pussy open and on display to him to watch as it hugs his cock, slick and dripping.

You have to close your eyes, too embarrassed as you feel the burning sensation surge through you, eyes watering from the pressure as you finally let go. Your whole body tenses up, a low scream slipping out of your mouth when clear liquid splashes over your thighs and stomach, leaking onto his cock.

"Fucking hell" is all you can hear before he stuffs you full again, this time dropping onto your chest as his knees and feet numb out, hot breath tickling your neck as he moans against your skin.

Your weak hands slump on his back, muscles relaxed and barely working.

Someone is supposed to say something...minutes passing by quickly.

Your tired voice fills the room, a soft "Touya..." reaching his ears as you trail off. You're not sure what you wanted to say, but he holds you a little tighter, heart beating faster at the sound of his name.

He kisses your cheek softly, snuggling into the crook of your neck. "Fucking creep".

[idontblushsrry]

Kyoya Ootori||SFW Alphabet

A/N: Here’s Kyoya 4 more to go!

Word Count: 1753

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Kyoya shows affection very subtly. Honestly you might feel like you’re stuck in a Victorian novel especially at the beginning of your relationship. He’ll brush his hand along the back of yours and then smile at you like oh that was intentional, ok. He’s really trying his best, but he’s not very obvious with his affection, all of his love tends to be conveyed through words and actions of caring.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Kyoya is lowkey a gossip. He’s not going to tell everyone what information he has but if you come up to him complaining about how so and so was bothering you, he’s already got a journal full of secrets and he’s ready to ruin someone’s career.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Kyoya likes to cuddle but he prefers to be the big spoon, this is solely because he doesn’t want to be woken up early just because you had to go to the bathroom or something. He only cuddles during night time and if you do wake up before him, he’s pretty easily fooled if you just replace your body with a pillow.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He definitely wants to settle own, not just because of his family and him feeling like he’s obligated to settle down, but also just because he’s a traditional person in the sense that he wants to marry the person he fell in love with. As for domestic skills, Kyoya can’t cook or clean for SHIT. The only skill he’s got is probably managing finances and things along those lines but if you asked him to cook, he’d somehow find a way to burn water, just a bad time for everyone involved.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Kyoya doesn’t break up with you via text message (or letter if he’s feeling fancy), he honestly probably just tells you upfront that he doesn’t view your relationship as something he has a vested interest in continuing. Ouch. 

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment for Kyoya has always ben somewhat of an obligation. He feels like he has to propose to you if you’re relationship is becoming serious. He’ll discuss it with you of course, but the man is very committed to those he loves and what better way to show that than marriage?

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Not very physically gentle, again, he’s just not very physically affectionate. When he does initiate physical affection with you it’s always with a measure of unsureness and caution. Emotionally, he’s a bit more gentle. Kyoya looks for the type of person who can keep up with him especially intellectually, with him it’s like no words are needed, you both just get it.

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Kyoya’s hugs kinda suck. He doesn’t give them often, let alone initiate them, and if you hug him, he’ll just stand there kinda surprised and at a loss for what to do. At least he’s nice to hug, he’s got this cologne that smells like a warm fireplace during a winter storm that smells so comforting.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

You definitely say ‘I love you’ before Kyoya. He expresses his love through tender gazes and lovesick smiles so he definitely assumes you get the message. However, if you express to Kyoya that you’d like to hear him say that he loves you, he’ll oblige.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

Kyoya doesn’t really get jealous, it’s not a matter of arrogance, more like, he knows that you’re with him and he’s with you. He doesn’t act out either on the off chance that he does get jealous because he was raised to bottle things up. In fact, the most Kyoya’s ever been jealous was in the beginning of your relationship/before you were dating where he was sure someone was gonna come by and sweep you away.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The way Kyoya kisses is by cradling your face and just kinda going for it. He prefers to kiss you on the lips but he doesn’t mind placing them elsewhere if things get more intimate.

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

Kyoya kind of sucks around children. He’s not rude to them or anything of that sort but he just doesn’t find himself having anything in common with them and doesn’t really care for the topics they find interesting.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Kyoya depend on if he’s off or not. If he has work or an early morning obligation of some sort, you’ll probably have to wake him up. He sets alarms but he’ll just swat at his alarm and then go back to bed, can’t exactly do that with your s/o now can you? However, if he has the day off or doesn’t have to wake up early, he won’t let you leave the bed until he’s ready to wake up. He’s surprisingly hard to move when he’s dead asleep like that.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Kyoya, he tends to stay up late and then just pass out on the nearest surface. If you happen to be awake long enough or pass him on the way to the kitchen/bathroom/etc., please move him into your bed. He will complain about his back problems if you don’t, if you can’t move him (which fair tbh he does deadweight) please give him a blanket and pillow, when he wakes up, it means the world to him.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Kyoya reveals things very gradually to you over time, he’s a very layered person and while certain aspects of his true personality may bubble up, you’re gonna have to put the full picture together on your own. Unless you’re like Tamaki and can just see through all his bs. 

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Kyoya is actually pretty easy to anger. This is because of his no nonsense attitude as well as his general grumpiness with the world. Although, no anger can top Kyoya’s anger from being woken up early.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you?  Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Kyoya remembers every detail you’re willing to share with him. He writes most of it in his notebook but somethings he likes to keep to himself and surprise you with later on.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship was when you suggested your next date be at a flower viewing. Kyoya initially thought it might just be like a boring “commoner” thing to do but as the date went on, he ended up really enjoying himself. The sight of you surrounded by flowers was also a plus

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Kyoya’s family has essentially a private police force, in addition he also has personal guards, best believe, you are protected. Don’t even worry about trying to protect him either, he has people on payroll for that

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Kyoya puts a lot of effort into dates, anniversaries, and gifts. The man always knows when there’s a special occasion coming up and has already planned for every step of the day. As for dates in general, he likes to spoil you. He has absolutely no problem with flying you to somewhere like Okinawa for example, just because

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs? (I’m gonna add arguments here because they aren’t on the prompt list I found))

A bad habit Kyoya has is that he tends to try and test people and their limits with no prompting. He’s very secretive in general so that plus his sudden decisions to test people can lead to some bad arguments. The worst argument you’ve gotten into to date is when he suddenly started flirting back with his guests during the regular day and you got jealous and snapped.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Kyoya is concerned with his looks in the sense that he has a reputation to uphold. He’s not arrogant by any means but he does take pride in looking good. Plus Tamaki recommended a skin care routine to him once and now he’s hooked

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He views you as his better, he doesn’t feel incomplete without you but he can feel himself turning back into his sort of middle school self pre-Tamaki when you aren’t around.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

He has no previous relationship experience. He has experience flirting of course and he’s had crushes before but he’s new to this, please be gentle.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

Kyoya doesn’t like people with forceful personalities. He tolerates it for the sake of being polite and his image if nothing else but this man cannot stand when people are pushy and always have to get their way. He also hates boring people.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Canonically Kyoya is a heavy sleeper, this can be kind of an issue at times. He’s a hard worker who stays up late on things he’s passionate about which means he might fall asleep on whatever’s closest. There’s been more than one occasion where you’ve walked over to him sound asleep on his laptop with a document covered in keysmash from where he slumped on the computer.

[petruchio]

i am so curious to know what your definition of sally rooneyification is as someone who doesnt read much but sees her books everywhere

ok SO! i’ve been trying to collect my thoughts here but i haven’t been able to work out a coherent way to express myself so let me just dump some sally rooney/contemporary lit fiction thoughts on y’all and you can take what you will from it

first off — i actually do like a lot of rooney!! i think normal people is a legit good book. i still think about the “money: the substance that makes the world real” passage. it’s one of my favorite passages on class and wealth in contemporary lit. (and is my love for that passage largely informed by my own life experiences? yes. but i still think it’s brilliant.) i think conversations with friends is ~pretty good~ and it’s a completely solid debut novel. i hated her new book beautiful world where are you and i thought it was bad. but i think she’s a genuinely talented contemporary voice and i think she’s definitely interesting as a popular figure in literature right now.

however, i do think that a lot of what makes rooney compelling gets kind of muddled in the public conversation about her novels.

i think the distinct *irishness* of her work is something i don’t see talked about enough. now, im not irish myself! but i did take more than one irish lit class in college, and i definitely see rooney and her works as an entry into the broader world of irish literature and irish writers. and i feel like that’s something i don’t see people talk about enough, and something that rooneys imitators (who are often not irish) fail to understand as a crucial backdrop of her writing. i don’t really have the energy to get into this any deeper rn, but i think it’s something worth really considering if we’re going to discuss her works.

my problem with the sally rooneyficiation of contemporary lit is kind of my same issue with the post-hunger games ya boom. i just often feel that people took the things that appear on the surface of rooneys novels (a disaffected and emotionally detached female protagonist, lots of sex, vague explorations of politics, characters who use modern technology) and just kind of wrote novels with those things in them without really connecting them to the broader themes. what i think makes normal people brilliant is that everything works in tandem to explore and develop the relationship between marianne and connell — mariannes personality is a result of her family life and the tension that puts on her relationships outside of her family, her relationship with connell being the lens through which we view those relationships. the sex is there so we can see how the relate to each other and their bodies as they grow together and apart over the years. political discourse is central to the entire novel, as their class difference is not just a background for what’s going on, it’s the driving force behind their entire relationship. technology is what enables them to stay close, and yet also what drives them apart (connells emails which develop his creative writing talent which encourages him to write the stories that will eventually take him to new york.)

(this is where i think cwf is a bit more muddled — the elements are there, but they’re just not as developed. for example, the discussions of class are interesting, but they’re not as fully developed or essential to the story as they are in np. they took the whole plot of nick giving frances money out of the show and it… kind of didn’t matter. or, it did, but the story still functioned without it. contrast that to np — if you’d erased their class difference, the whole story would collapse.)

but in a lot of contemporary lit, i feel like those things aren’t being used *to service the narrative* they’re just being used so that it “feels like a sally rooney book.” like, one thing i’ve noticed a lot is that these books have been using a lot of sex scenes to stand in for character and relationship development — and let me tell you! it doesn’t work! because then you’re just including sex for the sake of including sex, not because you have anything interesting to say about it or because it enhances the story or your social commentary in any real way. or characters will use a lot of technology but the books don’t really explore why or what that does to change or affect their lives — it’s just there for realism, i guess. which is fine to a certain extent! but to me, it also feels like it just ends up giving a story bloat where it doesn’t always need it. or the disaffected female protagonists — (and perhaps this is a larger trend than one that we can pin solely on rooney, one which relates to the fact that people with the privilege to have time to write a novel often tend toward one specific demographic and thus one worldview) but wow am i getting bored of books that are centered on a young person who gets into a toxic relationship and has a lot of sex as a replacement for any actual character development and then at the end of it decides that nothing matters anyway and then the book ends. it’s just boring! it’s not anything new! it’s not exploring anything about our society or our inner lives or our experiences as human beings! why is it a story? why a narrative? why not just publish your diary? what are you SAYING!!

i like rooney because i do think she has something to say. do i think she always knocks it out of the park? no. but she’s doing something and it’s clearly resonating with a lot of people. now look, im sure a lot of her imitators have something to say too — but it’s getting muddled in their attempts to recapture the world of rooney — a world which, imo, is distinct to rooney and her perspective and life! id rather see more young writers really stake their own claim on the world, explore their view of contemporary life, and say something original or at least true to them, rather than trying to imitate rooneys style and message.

BUT! to close, i also think it’s worth mentioning… is this really the fault of the writers? the young authors trying to get their debut novel published? the young people who are trying to create a piece of art? NO! let’s not kid ourselves. it’s the publishing houses, the desire only to publish books that are guaranteed to sell, the desire for safe bets in an industry and art form where we *should* be focused on always finding something new.

yeah, that’s right. it’s really not about sally rooney at all. it’s about capitalism.

[cosmicjoke]

So I just got through chapter’s 51 and 52 of Attack on Titan, and one thing that stuck out to me in 51, other than Levi’s obvious, deep anger with Erwin, which I’ll talk about in a minute, was how Levi made it a point to tell Connie that he’d done a good job after coming back with Hange from investigating his village.  Once again we see here Levi’s immense compassion for other people.  Nobody else really thought to give Connie that encouragement, despite his obvious distress in that moment.  They all were aware that Connie had lost everyone in his village, including his family, so it really demonstrates Levi’s thoughtfulness, once again, for other people and what they’re going through, that he takes the time to say just a few, kind words to Connie here.  

Then of course, there’s the big exchange in this chapter between Levi and Erwin, and there’s so much going on here.  But the first thing I noticed is the shift in Levi’s attitude, after he notices Erwin smiling upon hearing Hange’s theory about the Titan’s being humans.  At the beginning of this scene, Levi is showing Erwin a great deal of concern for his physical state, apologizing to him for him and Pixis showing up to talk, knowing how tired he must still be, saying to Erwin that he’ll understand if he would rather him and Pixis just come back later so he can keep sleeping.  Levi is giving Erwin the option here to deal with all of these new developments that they’re all dealing with later, and that offers a really insightful glimpse into the kind of respect and consideration Levi has for Erwin leading up to this point in the story.

What’s really interesting is the shift in Levi’s attitude here, after he sees Erwin smiling.  Levi starts to try and ask Erwin a question, after Hange’s revelations about the Titans, and he sees Erwin smiling to himself with a glazed, distant look in his eyes, and Levi’s horror is readily apparent.  He figures out almost immediately that Erwin is excited by this news, and Levi’s reaction is one of repulsion.  He even tells Erwin that he’s going to make him sick.  I think Levi’s reaction here is also partly fueled by his own feelings of deep dismay and horror at learning that all this time, he’s been killing other human beings.  So to see Erwin seemingly HAPPY about this revelation must seem particularly grotesque to Levi in that moment, while he’s dealing with his own feelings of guilt and despair and hopelessness.  Levi’s anger here is REALLY obvious, as he asks Erwin if this is the real reason he joined the Survey Corps.  We see Levi’s belief in Erwin starting to erode here, in real time.  Part of Levi’s anger, I think, must also stem from knowing that he’s put his faith entirely in Erwin, followed him with full belief in Erwin’s altruistic intentions, but now he has to face the possibility that his faith has been misplaced, that indeed the very REASON he joined the Corps to begin with, his faith in Erwin and his greater vision, may have been built on a lie.  This coming on the heels of realizing that Titans were actually humans, and he’s dedicated himself to killing them for years.  All of this leads you to really understand Levi’s controlled fury at Erwin in this scene.  When Erwin gets annoyed himself at Levi and tells him to lay off of him, and asks him to show him some pity, Levi says with obvious derision that, yeah, Erwin IS pitiful.  We see later in the scene Levi turn Erwin’s own words back on him, about him being mentally and physically exhausted, almost mocking Erwin with them as he reveals to him that he’s chosen to make the 104th his new squad and had Eren and Historia moved to an isolated location.  Levi’s anger here is really palpable, and it demonstrates the tension I think Levi’s probably always had with Erwin and their relationship.

Levi respects Erwin immensely, and I have no doubt he’d been ready to tell Erwin about his plans for the 104th with a lot more cordiality and willingness to involve him in that decision before Erwin’s motivations became revealed to him here.  But there’s always been that kind of conflict between them too, where Levi was willing to put his faith totally in Erwin’s vision, and in his ability to make the right choices, in order to advance the cause of humanity, but at the same time, felt deeply uncomfortable at times with Erwin’s methods towards achieving that goal, his willingness to sacrifice the lives of so many to that end, often resulting in the deaths of soldiers with no, substantial gain to be had.  He’s deeply aware of Erwin’s ruthlessness in getting the job done (we see that awareness later in chapter 52, when he asks Hange if they should run or kill their enemies before they can strike, and says it’s just like something Erwin would do when Hange says both).  It was Levi’s faith in Erwin, though, and his belief in Erwin’s purity and the righteousness of his cause, that allowed Levi to put his misgivings about Erwin’s methods aside, because he fully believed Erwin’s intentions were only to benefit humanity, and win them back their freedom someday.  So seeing Erwin smiling here, and having that faith in Erwin’s intentions thrown into question, alongside the awful revelation that Titan’s are actually humans, is obviously a pretty devastating blow to Levi’s own sense of balance and place, throwing into doubt what it is he’s been fighting for all this time, whether it was even real or not.  It’s like in one, fell swoop, Levi’s lost any amount of certainty in both what they’ve all been fighting for this whole time, and in the person he had put the most faith and trust in to guide them in the right direction.  I’m not sure how people could miss Levi’s anger towards Erwin here, or the reasons for it.  Levi is shown something in Erwin that makes him seriously doubt whether Erwin actually cares about humanity at all, or people at all.  Erwin appears happy that it turned out that Titan’s were humans, and Levi has no context, no way of knowing WHY Erwin would be happy about that.  He doesn’t know about his father, or the things his father told him, or how his father died.  So to Levi, it must just seem like Erwin is getting some sort of sick joy out of the revelation.  Again, to see something like that in the person you believed in the most, a person you admired deeply and thought of as superior to you, as holding a greater vision than you ever could, would be really, really hard.  It’s like Levi’s hero letting him down in the worst way possible.  

I think this should also be looked at in the context of Levi’s own experiences in life, and how that shaped his world view.  Levi comes from an extremely hard, deprived background, one of extreme poverty and desperation and violence.  That background, that difficult childhood, resulted in a necessary cynicism and jadedness in Levi.  He knows the way the world works, knows how hard life is, and how cruel and ruthless people can be.  He grew up in a world where there was no pretense, no civility or politeness to hide behind.  He grew up in a world where it was kill or be killed.  We see this weary understanding of how things really are later, again, in chapter 52, when Levi is explaining to Hange and the rest that they have two options, because the MP’s and those they work for aren’t going to just give up on getting their hands on Eren and Historia.  He knows they’re only going to try more forcefully and violently to get what they want, because that’s the way the world works, and that’s the way people are.  He also shows his worldly understanding of these sorts of things when he asks Hange how many of Nick’s fingernails they pulled, and knows that Nick likely didn’t talk because they pulled more than one.  It tells us about Levi’s experience and how he’s been exposed to the darker, crueler side of humanity, more than anyone else in that room.

So Levi also understands that if they just wait around, they’ll all eventually be killed.  He understands they can’t be passive here, and have to act immediately.  He impresses that reality unto Hange, who’s still reeling from Nick’s death, and forces her to make a decision as to what their next move should be.  He doesn’t allow her to wallow in her despair, and he does this for the sake of Eren and Historia, and all of them.  Once again, we see Levi being most concerned for the greater good, ready to act however is needed to help the most people.  He knows Hange is hurting, but he knows also that none of them can afford to be, as he says to her, timid.  They have to move.  Well, anyway, my point that I’m trying to make is that Levi’s life experience has forced him to be cynical about other people’s motivations and characters, about concepts of nobility and morality.  To look at other people’s true intentions with a skeptical eye, because he grew up in a cut-throat environment, exposed to deep poverty, trauma and pain, where people no doubt would turn on you, or abandon you in a moment for nothing more than a scrap of bread.  With that in mind, you have to realize that Levi’s faith in Erwin is rather remarkable.  That he’s able to BELIEVE that deeply in another person, to believe in another person’s goodness, and purity of intention, given Levi’s background and the life he’s lived, is extraordinary, and really tells us so much about who Levi really is.  Despite every experience in his life informing him  that he should be skeptical and cynical and mistrustful of people and their intentions, despite his every experience telling him that the world is a cruel, ugly, awful place filled with loss, pain and grief, Levi still wants so much to believe in something better.  To believe in purity of hearts and intentions, to believe in a higher morality and goodness.  And despite all of his life experience telling him otherwise, Levi is able to believe that’s who Erwin is.  A person with a higher, better moral standing, a person with a pure and true heart.  He believes it all the way.  So, to then have that faith, which Levi somehow held onto against all odds and reason, dashed against the rocks in a single, terrible moment of realization, would be horrible.  Levi is someone who wants so much to believe there can be a better world, with better people in it.  And I think Erwin represented that possibility to Levi, for a long time.  And so to learn that his belief in Erwin was, perhaps, too idealistic, to have that skepticism that his life’s beaten into him affirmed, rather than rejected, must have felt like the worst kind of betrayal to Levi, and just a crushing disappointment.

Of course, Erwin later is able to prove to Levi that his faith in him wasn’t misplaced, as he lives up to the ideal Levi saw in him to begin with, with Levi’s help and encouragement.  But that’s a different post altogether!  When I get to that part of the manga, I’ll be positing about it as well.

Also, Hange’s own sense of horrible guilt and remorse in these chapters, both over realizing she’d been experimenting on human’s this whole time, and over Nick’s death, was an amazing parallel to Levi’s.  I think the two of them share so many similar feelings and such a similar depth of feeling over everything.  Always trying to do the right thing, and struggling so much with whether the choices they make are the right choices, or whether any of this is worth the sacrifices they’re forced to make.